Page 22 of Discretion at Its Finest

“I was a part of their lives, Genevieve… More than anything, I was a part of yours.”

She tried to shift back, but the chair wouldn’t give.

“I know you,mon amour.”The French slipped out low, rough at the edges. I hadn’t meant to say it.

Her eyes darted away, pretending not to hear, pretending that the language of us still wasn’t buried somewhere under her skin. It fucking pissed me off that she could still lie even about that.

“Don’t,” she whispered, swallowing, voice barely holding steady. “Don’t do that.”

A slow exhale left me, brushing her cheek. “And you know me… What could I possibly be thinking about your son, Vieve?”

She didn’t speak. Her chest rose faster, the curve of it trying to distract me, the softness of her skin testing my patience.

“Why…” I leaned in closer, my mouth at her ear, my voice a rasp, “…are you trying so hard to protect him fromme?”

She tensed under me, her legs tightening, the closeness of our bodies overwhelming her.

Every inch of her remembered me. Even if she wouldn’t admit it or fucking say it.

Then her eyes met mine, stubbornness, need and a faint look of exhaustion in her gaze. “Because… I don’t know you. Not anymore.”

My hand gripped the arm of the chair tighter. I could’ve grabbed her again. Could’ve forced her to look at me, breathe me in, remember who the fuck she used to belong to.

But instead, I stepped back.

And she fled like her skin was on fire, as if the air between us had burned her. Her eyes flashed once, fury and fear tangled together, and she turned toward the door.

I didn’t stop her from running this time as I watched her hand shake as she reached for the handle and pulled it shut behind her. I stood there, breathing hard, my own hands still shaking.

The scent of her clung to me, to the room, filling it with vanilla, lavender and guilt. I wanted to rip the truth out of her throat. She was hiding something. Hiding the truth from everyone…from me. I’d seen it in the way her eyes moved, in the tremor under her skin.

I didn’t want to speculate. I’d done that before, built the impossible in my mind, told myself the reality of the situation wasn’t true.

But the thoughts, the lies, weren’t just in my head this time around… they were in her gaze. Her mouth could spew all the lies in the world, but her eyes couldn’t hide the truth. All the smiles she forced, the guilt she wore like armor…

Whatever she was protecting, whatever she thought she could keep from me… I’d tear every inch of her perfect little world apart until I found it.

Chapter ten

Genevieve

Exiting the conference room, I calmed my racing heart as best as I could. It wasn’t effective, but that wasn’t my main goal. I just needed to get Eugene and leave. Being in this building, in the same space as Reid, I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t bear him.

Approaching Raymond’s office, I knocked once and stepped inside. Eugene was asleep on the couch, his small body curled toward the wall, one fist still wrapped around his favorite toy car.

My heart clenched.

Raymond looked up from his desk. He didn’t smile or pry just yet. He only let out a tired sigh. “He fell asleep about fifteen minutes ago.”

I crossed the room slowly, heels silent on the carpet, eyes fixed on my son. I knelt beside him, brushing the hair from his damp forehead, fingers trembling more than I wanted them to. His lashes lay dark against flushed cheeks, his chest rising and falling, the same soft rhythm I used to fall asleep to.

Behind me, Raymond’s voice came quiet. “Are you all right?”

From his tone he already knew the answer. “Gonna head home,” I murmured. “It’s been a long day.”

Raymond leaned back, exhaling. The weight of everything was finally settling on him. “Reid sure knows how to stir a pot.”

“He shouldn’t be here,” I said, still watching Eugene’s chest rise and fall. “He’s dangerous. You know that.”