Page 77 of Discretion at Its Finest

He paused. “And they didn’t,” he said.

“But eventually they will. Even when they do, we let them. The paper trail is clean. Traces back to Gregory’s mishap. It will just look like another bleed in the Newman Trust list of failures.”

The plan was foolproof, both he and I knew that. Which was why when he closed the folder, nodding silently, the tension in my shoulders dropped only slightly. I didn’t let him see the brief moment of relief though.

After a moment, his eyes drifted back to Genevieve once more before finding mine. “You’re really going through with this?” I didn’t respond, and he shook his head. “All right.” He tossed the folder to the side, crossing his arms with a shrug. “You got everything you wanted, Reid. Newman Trust is bleeding out. The money’s moving clean into your accounts. You found out your half brother’s son is actually yours and you fucked his fiancée as payback.”

“Don’t start.”

“No. Truly, congratulations. Everything is happening exactly the way you planned. Gregory’s days are numbered, Raymond worships the ground you walk on. Public image is soaring, approval ratings through the roof. There isn’t a man in this country with the leverage to bring you down right now. You’re untouchable.”

“And what exactly is your point with this?”

“My point,” he said quietly, “is what happens when you’re not.”

I couldn’t stop my eyes from rolling.

“You went to New York for Newman Trust, for revenge, to leave them with just as little as they forced you out with…” He tilted his head slightly. “But you’re not planning on leaving, are you? Not without her or without the boy. You’re getting attached, Reid.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” he asked. “Because the Reid I know doesn’t lose sleep over a woman he’s supposed to be using. You came here with intent, every move calculated, making sure you were ahead every step… but at this point I’m not even sure you know what your next move is.”

My jaw clenched as I watched him grab the folder, eyes averted from me as he walked to the door. “I’ll be waiting outside,” he muttered before the door closed behind him, silence engulfing the space mixed in with Genevieve’s soft breathing.

Alexander wasn’t wrong. I knew that. I’d known it the second she walked back into my orbit like the last three years hadn’t happened. I had one objective. Take back what was mine, leave them with nothing, walk away untouched.

And I still let her back in, dismantling every wall I put up. If I was being honest with myself, I didn’t know what was next for us. I didn’t know if I could ever forgive her or if I wanted to destroy her life so I could finally have my revenge… or finally have her to myself. And at this point… I didn’t know if there was a difference anymore.

Genevieve

I woke up in crisp charcoal sheets, that faint hint of mahogany and cedar warming my insides. Sitting up, I brushed my hair out of my face, glancing around the bedroom that wasn’t the guestone I’d been forced into. I shifted, the fabric against my skin unfamiliar.

I glanced down to find I was in one of Reid’s shirts. It was long on me, sleeves brushing my wrists, the collar loose where his hands must have pulled it over my head. My pulse stuttered. The memories from the night before came back in fragments. Our discussion, then my nervousness, his dominance… his touch, guiding me, possessive in a way that hadn’t asked permission because it hadn’t needed to. The way my body had followed before my mind caught up.

The room was dimmed, curtains half-drawn, early morning light spilling into the room. I was in his bedroom. I knew it without needing to look. Everything was too ordered to belong to anyone else, all dark and sharp edges of wood and marble.

The door opened behind me and I turned. Reid walked in barefoot and shirtless. Pants hanging low, a mug in each hand, steam curled into the air from both. He didn’t look surprised to see me awake.

“Morning,” he said.

My throat felt dry. “Morning,” I whispered.

He crossed the room and held one of the mugs out to me. Black coffee, exactly how we both liked it. I hesitated before I accepted it. Our fingers brushed as I grabbed it and I felt the small and unmistakable spark.

I took a sip. “How did I get here?” I asked quietly.

Reid leaned back against the dresser, watching me over the rim of his own mug. “You fell asleep on the couch.”

“And then?”

“I carried you… got you relatively comfortable before letting you get some rest.”

I nodded silently. He didn’t tell me if he slept beside me. Part of me wanted to know, but I didn’t press for those details.

“I-I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” I muttered, a hint of pink climbing my neck in embarrassment, and his jaw clenched, his eyes raking over me as the shirt fell down my shoulder.

“You needed it,” was all he answered.