“No,” he says immediately. “Absolutely not.” He stops himself, jaw tightening. “You’re more than qualified. That was never a question.”
I stare at him, willing him to continue.
He just shrugs. “It’s almost over.”
That’s what breaks something open inside me.Almost over?
Notyou’re about to win.
Notthis is yours.
Just… almost over.
“I need to go.” I step forward, the beloved hum of the office screaming in my ears.
He closes his hand around my arm. “If there is trouble, real trouble, you can come to me. Always.” His voice is low and ominous.
The wordalwayslands heavier than it should. Does he know who my father is? I’m dealing with onerevelation already. I don’t have room to contemplate another one.
“Thank you, Cal.”
He nods and leaves me there, gawking after him. It has all been just a game to them. My future has been a game to them. Fuck.
And what does he mean by real trouble? I thought I was so smart, using my mother’s maiden name, but clearly the Merged partners did their research. Of course they did.
A hollow laugh rattles in my chest. Jesus. I thought my game was clever. And if they know I’m Roxanne Lock, then Liam fucking Stone has probably known all along.
A small part of me still hoped this was all just a coincidence. A wild chance he ended up here, getting close and personal with the older sister.
Goddammit.
On impulse, I march toward Liam’s office and barge in without knocking. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice whispers that I should first collect information and calm down. That voice doesn’t stand a chance.
Liam looks up and smiles. I’m hit with a tsunami of conflicting feelings—heat, fury, attraction, betrayal—crashing on meall at once.
It stops me in his doorway, my pulse racing. My mind scattered. My heart… let’s not involve that organ.
I’ve grown to appreciate that smile of his. One he doesn’t really offer much.
He looks so fucking good behind that old museum piece of a monitor. One he never got rid of. Just to tease me.
I glare at him without speaking, letting the silence stretch, daring him to fill it.
But also wondering,What did I want to say or do here? Why do I even bother with confrontation?
“What a pleasant surprise.” He stands up and saunters around his desk. “I thought theaffairwas over,” he teases.
“You’re engaged to Tawny Lock?”
He halts, his smile morphing into something else. Something guarded. Frowning, he opens his mouth, but reconsiders.
I’m not sure if he’s assessing how much I know, or if he’s coming up with his own spin on things.
When he says nothing, I continue. “You know I’m her sister.”
It’s a statement. I don’t need to ask. I might not have details, but I can make educated assumptions.
“As much as our fathers would love to bless that union, I’m here because I was never interested inmarrying a child.” His words land like a slap, not cruel, but precise. I step back.
