“What do you suggest?” I ask, curious as to what her answer will tell me.
“You tell me, Alex. You’re the brains.”
That’s tidy. I ask her for help, she has what she needs to expose me. I don’t, and I’m on my own, with the walls closing in and the clock ticking.
“I’m not sure I pay you enough,” I mutter.
She inclines her head in agreement. “You did reject my last request for a pay rise.”
I watch this woman, sitting opposite me, herexpression wholly unguarded for once. She’s bared her soul—if she’s to be believed.
But my every instinct tells me Icanbelieve her.
I admit, I don’t understand love. It’s not an emotion I’ve ever seen a need for. Control? Yes. Ownership? Where Vicky is concerned, absolutely. But love? A weakness. A delusion. A chemical illusion and a loss of judgment. I fail to see the appeal.
Yet Vicky loves me, and apparently Rita does too.
“You know I don’t love you,” I say, testing how far this goes. “Why are you still here?”
She gives a bitter laugh. “Alex, did you miss the part where I told you I know you pretty damn well? It’s not that youdon’tlove me, it’s that youcan’t.” She sighs, shifts her laptop to the side of her chair, uncrosses and recrosses her legs. “If you can love Victoria, then… I suppose that’s something.” Her head tilts. “Can you?”
“What ‘something’ is that?” I ask. “Do you expect me to believe you’re suddenly altruistic?”
“Would you accept romantic?”
“No.”
Hurt flashes in her eyes, but it’s gone before I can be sure. “Sentimental, then.” She waves a hand. “Call it what you will.” Her gaze hardens. “You have to make a decision.”
“About what?” If she’s asking me to pick her over Vicky, it’s not a contest.
And that’s the moment I realize: I need to get out. I need away from this Company, before it’s too late. Not just for me, but for Vicky, too.
It should be a harder decision than it is. It would have been, before they threatened her.
“What you’re going to do,” Rita replies. She pauses, looks down at the floor, presses her lips together, then meets my gaze again. “How you’re going to…escape.”
That’s a damning word, and it mirrors my own thoughts. As usual, Rita’s always a step ahead. She’s just put herself out there, making it clear she knows the stakes. If I was Fournier’s man, she’d be exposed for that. She knows it, and she still said it.
Part of me regrets I can’t offer her what she wants; we really are the perfect match—on paper.
But it’s Vicky that I can’t stop thinking about. It’s Vicky I…care about.
The revelation is like opening my eyes and turning on a light. Idocare. Icancare.
The money never kept me up at night. The power never made me check a map every five minutes to see where someone was. Only she does that.
I want her safe, whatever the price. Even if that means I have to trust Rita, and take that risk.
“If I leave, you’ll need to go, too.”
“I’m well aware.” She shrugs. “I was only here because you were. The work-life balance sucks, and the coffee’s shit.”
I laugh, even though the joke doesn’t deserve it. “Very well. One last project?”
“Of course.” She gives me a smile, tinged with bittersweet sadness. “I’ve never forgotten who I work for.”
It’s late when Vicky texts me.
