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“Last night?” He blinked at me in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“You can’t just brainwash me.” There was an edge of desperation in my voice. I tried to remember techniques I’d learned in therapy to deal with stress, but they all escaped me.
I am strong. I am strong. I am my own woman.
He took me by the hand and tugged. I tried to remain rooted in place, but he was too strong. Holt stopped when he felt my resistance.
“We need to talk and we’re not having this conversation here.”
He waited until I gave a subtle nod before he led me down a narrow hallway. I cursed myself for giving in so easily. I didn’t owe him an explanation. Didn’t owe him anything. Yet I felt compelled to follow where he led.
Just like I always did.
Holt moved with determination. The music had only faded a fraction, still too loud to be heard without shouting. He pushed through a door with an exit sign lit above it into a stairwell. The echo of the door closing bounced off the concrete block walls. The music muted.
He released me and raked a hand through his hair, pacing in a small circle. “I know my behavior,” he paused and looked at me, yanking on his thick locks, “hasn’t been the best.”
I wrapped my arms around my middle and hugged myself, staring at the ground.
“Brainwash? Baker, I don’t know what to say to that. I’d never . . .” Anguish filled his eyes. “Why would you think that?”
I lifted my gaze to his. “It’s what men do.”
He froze. “Not all men,” he said quietly.
Allmen, I argued in my head. Instead of saying anything, I just lifted my chin.
“Seduce you? Yeah, I’m totally guilty. And obviously I’ve done a bang up job of it.”
“Seduce. Brainwash. They’re really one in the same.” I shrugged, but my insides had gone cold.
Holt’s stare burned into me. “What happened to you?”
His voice was lethally low, as if he were furious on my behalf. When he figured out who I was, that anger would evaporate in an instant.
“Nothing that matters.” It was a lie. What happened to me defined the person I was today no matter how I tried to get away from it. I’d managed a new start, only a few people I’d confessed the truth to.
This . . . the woman in the dress who had a dream job working at a fashion magazine? She was a facade. Nothing more than a thin veil disguising the ugly truth.
He stepped closer. “I think it does. A whole hell of a lot.”
I held my ground, though I hugged myself more tightly. “I don’t care what you think.”
Holt recoiled as if I’d slapped him. Instant regret flooded me. Was this my new tactic? Hurt him before he hurt me?
A vein pulsed in his temple, but he nodded once. “Fair enough.” He let out a frustrated breath. “Then let’s get to what exactly you think happened last night.”
I lifted a shoulder and painted a look of indifference on my face. “Iknowyou didn’t come home.”
Light dawned in his eyes. “And where exactly do you think I was?”
“Never gave it a second thought.” More lies. And he knew it.
“Then why’d you bring it up?”
I shrugged again, wishing I hadn’t.
He edged closer to me until I felt the heat radiating off of him. “Why do you think I spent the night out?”
