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The anger still blazes inside me, but the sharp sting fades.
I run a hand through my hair.
“It wasn’t Destiny,” I say crisply, letting it sink in further.
“I don’t think so, either, sir,” Hannah agrees.
Goddamn.
I nod sharply. “We need to figure out who. Are we missing a unit?”
“I’m having Carol Garcia check inventory now. She was the last one in the lab during that time, but it was during your excursion.”
I swallow a few more curses, wishing like hell something made sense.
Hannah narrows her eyes, taking in my expression. “Forgive me for saying, Mr. Foster, but you seem relieved.”
“Do I?” I’d hoped to hide that.
“I wouldn’t mention it if you didn’t...”
There’s no point in pretending. Not to my mind reader of an EA, who’s mastered the art of deciphering my every expression.
“Perceptive as always,” I say.
“May I be blunt, sir?”
“Are you ever anything less?”
“...did you sleep with Miss Lancaster?”
Fuck.
There’s no easy answer to that.
Obviously, I want to tell her I didn’t—that I would never, ever dream of doing something so monstrously stupid.
But I did more than dream.
And definitely not just once.
It was the best damn boneheaded move of my life, absolutely ravaging Destiny Lancaster for several days in paradise.
Before I can force anything coherent out of my mouth, there’s a knock at the door.
Hannah doesn’t have time to get up.
Not before Destiny sails in without waiting for an invitation, swinging the door shut behind her.
'A sight for sore eyes' doesn’t do this justice.
Her face is flushed, the color high and bright on her cheekbones, and she can’t meet my gaze.
She looks miserable, though.
Probably worn to the bone from tromping through the office with everyone staring at her on the walk of shame.
Something I’m not used to feeling wells up in my chest behind the usual anger.
