Page 183 of Twisted Knight

Not because he genuinely wanted to.

But because guilt is a powerful emotion.

Because he had to try to salvage our working relationship somehow.

Because he felt bad.

The taste of salt hits my lips. My own tears streaming down my face. My own heart lodged in my throat.

I need to get out of here. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t process.

I don’t know how I manage it, but I straighten the stack of papers and put them back in the drawer how I found them. I shut it, then stand there and look at the closed drawer.

Oh. My. God.

This is so much worse than I could have imagined. He betrayed me. He looked me in the eyes, he let me be vulnerable with him, all while sharpening the knife to stab me in the back.

I rush from the office, locking the door behind me, and get on the elevator as fast as I can. It’s only when I’m tearing out of the parking lot that I think about the cuff links I left on the top of his desk.

He’ll know I was there.

He’ll know I left them.

But will he know that I know about everything else?

I pound the heel of my hand against the steering wheel, the tears coming harder now.

When was he going to tell me?

Or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was going to string me along, have me get everything done he wanted, and then let me know that oopsie, he wasn’t going to uphold his end of the bargain.

I don’t know where to go. I don’t know what to do. I sure as hell don’t want to go to the airport and hop on his private jet bound for Georgia.

But if I stay here, he’ll seek me out. He’ll demand to know what’s wrong.

If I go, I’ll have a few days away from him. A few days where I can truly process the heartbreak—because yes, fuck it, this is heartbreak in so many ways—before I have to face him again and … and what?

Act like nothing happened?

Confront him and let him know I was in his desk?

The pain in my chest is crushing. The memories of this weekend are more than soured. The tears on my cheeks are like acid.

I don’t know.

I just don’t know.

But I head to the airport.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

I need the reprieve.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The distance.

Ring. Ring. Ring.