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I shake my head. “I confronted him when I was his bodyguard. I took on his security detail so I could have this conversation with him. But Declan had no idea about the incident. He didn’t know Diana was stalking him, let alone that she’d broken into his home. He doesn’t manage his social media or his PR. Gio was his PR manager’s assistant at that time. She’s the one who monitored his social media and picked up Diana’s messages."
“She’s the one who discovered Diana when she broke into his home. She’s the one who didn’t listen to Diana, who called the cops on her. A part of me understands why she did it, and yet”—I crack my neck— “yet, I can’t help wondering, what if Gio had given Diana a few seconds of her time? What if she’d taken the script from her and told her she’d give it to Declan. Even if she hadn’t, my sister would have felt heard. It would have made her feel like there was a chance for her. It might have bought her a little more time. Enough for me to have met with Diana and understood her frame of mind. I could have helped her. My sister would still be alive.” The pressure drums against my skull. I grab tufts of my hair and tug. "Fuck!"
Edward scrutinizes my features. "Are you upset with Gio, or are you using this as an excuse to not blame yourself?"
"What?" I flinch.
"I’m not the best when it comes to understanding relationships but what I have is perspective. I can’t claim to know how it feels to be in your shoes, but it certainly seems obvious that you’re avoiding the real issue here."
"The real issue?" I manage to keep emotions out of my voice, not that it fools Priest, for he tilts his head.
"You married her and didn’t inform the rest of the team."
"Fucking hell." I throw up my hands. "I should have known you guys would find out about it."
"And you’re entitled to your privacy, but if you loved this woman and intended to spend your life with her, you’d have announced it to the world."
Anger squeezes my chest. "My not announcing to the world that she’s my wife has nothing to do with my sister’s suicide."
"Hasn’t it?" He meets my gaze with a challenge in his eyes.
I look away, then back at him. "Our marriage is a farce. I proposed the arrangement so I could get my grandmother to go through with a life-saving procedure and so she could get revenge on her douche ex."
His gaze stays steady. He doesn’t seem surprised by my revelation.
"What?" I scowl.
"I’ve heard that before," he drawls.
"You’re not making sense."
"It seems to be a common theme where my friends are concerned. Men who conveniently use the front of a 'fake relationship'"—he uses air quotes—"to deny their feelings for their woman, until they come to their senses and realize their mistake. And then need to grovel non-stop, and sometimes, that isn’t enough to make things up."
"Is that what happened to you?"
"Me?" His expression turns bleak. "I never got that far. She decided I wasn’t the one for her. And she was right. I would have made a poor life partner. I hadn’t sorted out the stuff in my own head. How could I focus on anyone else? How could I fulfill her needs when my own were so twisted out of shape?"
"And now?"
"I know I made the right decision. I’ve loved and lost and realized, it’s not for me. I’m better off focusing on other things. Things that impact a wider number of people."
"Hence, you took on the role of the General Manager?"
"I did it because I could." He hesitates. "Because it gave me the sense of purpose I was looking for. Because I could give direction to the team, and I hoped it would help me find my own direction."
I chuckle. "You always this philosophical?"
"If that’s what’s needed."
"Is that what I need?" I can’t stop the skepticism from creeping into my tone.
"Isn’t it?" His lips quirk. "You need to man up to your feelings. You’ve used every possible excuse to stop yourself from committing."
"My sister’s suicide is not an excuse," I bite out.
"It’s not. I can only imagine how difficult it must be to be in your shoes right now. You’re blaming yourself for what happened to your sister. You’re taking that out on Gio.”
“I’m not.”
