“Bree.” He says my name like it’s a complete sentence. Like it explains everything.
“What thefuckdid you do?” I press.
He has the decency to flinch, but he doesn’t look away. “I made sure he couldn’t hurt you. Or anybody else. Ever again.”
“I told you not to!” The words rip out of me, louder than I intended. “I told you this was my story. My choice!”
“And I couldn’t watch him get away with it,” he argues.
I’m shaking now. All fury and tears. “You promised me. Youliedto me.”
“Yes,” he admits.
No excuses. No justifications. Just that single devastating syllable.
“You can’t just—” I stop. Start again. “You can’t use your money and your power to decide what happens with my life.”
His jaw tightens. “To expose a predator? To stop him from doing to someone else what he did to you?”
“That wasn’t your decision to make!” I yell.
He takes a step closer. The air between us crackles with tension. I can smell his cologne, woody and spicy, and I hate that my body still responds to him even when I’m this angry.
“You wanted to ignore him and move on.” His voice drops. “Fine. But I couldn’t.”
“So you hired investigators? You dug into my past without telling me? You. . .” I struggle to find words big enough for the betrayal.
“Dug into his past, not yours!” Nico argues. “The investigators were told to steer clear of you.” He steps closer still. “Look, this is about a man who destroyed your career because you said no. This—”
“I know what he did!” My voice cracks. “I lived it!”
His eyes bore into mine. “I hired people to find the truth. I didn’t blackmail anyone. Didn’t manipulate evidence. They found six other women. Six. And the university buried it every single time.”
Six women. The number from the article. “That’s not the point.”
“It’s exactly the point,” he replies. “This wasn’t just about you. He’s been doing this for over a decade. And now he can’t anymore.”
“Another powerful man deciding what’s best for me.” The words taste bitter in my mouth.
His expression breaks, and I see the pain and hurt my words caused.
Good.
“I know.” His voice is rough now. “I know Icrossed a line. But Bree, I couldn’t.” He struggles, and I’ve never seen him struggle like this. He touches the scar along his jaw. An unconscious gesture.
“I’ve spent my entire life unable to go back and stop what happened to me,” he finishes. “But I could stop this one thing, for you, so I did.”
The confession hangs between us.
And god help me, I understand it. I really do.
The broken logic of it, the desperate need to protect someone from the pain you couldn’t protect yourself from.
But understanding doesn’t fix what he broke.
“You lied to me,” I say quietly. “You looked me in the eyes after I told you the most painful thing that’s ever happened to me, and you promised you wouldn’t do anything, and then you did it anyway.”
He forces a wan smile. “Yes.”
