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“Shouldn’t you be glued to your desk?”
“Nice try.” He flicks the note back at me and sits up straight. “Is it true we bought Monroe?”
I actually laugh at his question, because that’s definitely something Damon would never do, especially not without talking to me first. Or at least talking to me about it during the weekend.
“That’s not an answer, Avie.”
“Of course not.”
“That’s not what all the little birdies are saying,” he sings with mock innocence.
“I’m sure we don’t pay you to gossip on company time, Mr. Clay.” My gaze flicks to my open door to find Dex standing there.
“I was just asking Ava about Monroe.” Owen stands, shrugging at Dex as he makes to leave.
“Oh. I’m pretty sure no one’s meant to know about that yet, seeing as it only completed this morning.”
No. It’s impossible. But Mom’s remark from the other night echoes in my head, “How could you ruin Monroe? Hand it to Damon Coldwell on a platter?” and my heart falls to my stomach. A cold sweat chills through me as I grab my cell, ready to call Damon and clear this up.
“That’s not true.”
Owen’s gone when Dex saunters in, smiling. “You better believe it. Monroe is officially a part of the family.”
“My father would never sell…”
He looks around my office, chuckling like I’m a naïve little girl he’s got to school. “He didn’t have a choice. Damon made damn sure of it. Why did you think he practically handed you this job without an interview?”
Because I’m the best, I reply to myself in the same words Damon’s spoken to me.
“How well do you actually know him?” The sorry way he’s looking at me tightens my chest. And I’m going through everything I know of Damon. All the moments we’ve shared, especially the last few days. All the beautiful things he’s uttered to me. But the nagging inside me starts doubting everything. All the shit he’s done before keeps revolving around my head. He’s a master manipulator. Damon knows what to say to get what he wants.
“You’re lying,” I shake myself free of the doubts, holding onto what he said about the future—our future.
Yes, Damon Coldwell is an enigma. He’s a complicated man, but he would never steal the only thing I had left of my family. He wouldn’t steal from me the way Marsh did—right under my nose. Especially not after all the ways he’s cursed my ex for what he did to me.
Or would he?
“I don’t lie.”
“That’s what every liar says.”
“The only reason your father gave Marsh your job was because Damon convinced your fiancé to send us his resume—” Dex pulls a rolled-up envelope from inside his suit jacket, throwing it onto my desk so that the CPM mail room markings stare up at me with the date the envelope was received. When I glance inside it, my chest threatens to crush my insides. “—and of course, your father didn’t want to lose him. He’s like a son to him, or so I’ve heard.”
What?
“Don’t look so disappointed, little mouse…”
Little mouse.
My hand works my chest, trying to loosen it so I can breathe. So I can make sense of all this.
Damon wouldn’t play me like this. He wouldn’t. After everything…
What if…
No, he wouldn’t tell me he loves me while stabbing me in the back.
And I know he loves me. I do. You can’t fake the way he looks at me or the way he touches me or…
