“Damn. How many secret passages lead to this floor?”
“Two,” James says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Plus elevator access. Security reasons. Nate designed the whole thing.”
I shake my head. It all seems a little over-the-top to me, but Sequel is a huge global company. James is worth more than all the rest of us combined, so I guess he has to be careful.
We walk past empty conference rooms and a neat, two-desk office I assume belongs to James’s assistants. Finally, he opens the chestnut door to his own office and beckons me inside.
I’ve never been to James’s office. I guess that’s not a big surprise—of all the guys, he’s the one I’m the least close to. He’s so cold, aloof, and disciplined, and I’m—well, the opposite of all those things. Basically, James and I would both jump in front of a train for the other one, but we don’t exactly sit around and put on face masks together. Luke’s the only one who gets the importance of skincare.
The office decor is all icy whites and steely grays. On the wall behind James’s desk is the mother of all corporate art pieces—eight feet tall and wide, all in gray, makes you feel the absence of feeling. It’s anti-art, and it’s probably what the inside of James’s soul looks like.
“Dude, have you thought about redecorating?” I ask. “I’ve got an extra dogs-playing-poker painting if you wanna lighten things up in here a bit.”
He shakes his head, going right to a bar cart to pour us both a nice glass of Twisted Devil whiskey. He takes a seat on the gray leather sectional couch and gestures for me to sit on the other side of the L-shape.
“So,” James says.
Then he waits.
I sigh. “I didn’t kiss Pippa. Not…not tonight, anyway.”
James nods. There’s no judgment on his face, no recrimination. “Okay.”
Relief washes over me like a tidal wave. Muscles I didn’t even know were tensed immediately relax. Fuck, I didn’t realize how much this part had been weighing on me—the fact that nobodyknew, the fear that my friends would turn away from me if they did. James’s quiet acceptance means more to me than I ever thought it could.
I throw back some whiskey, and it burns sweetly in my throat.
“I have kissed her, to be clear. A lot. I’ve got a long fucking list of things I’d love to do to Pippa, and I’m nowhere near the end, but I’ve definitely gotten started.”
“So this has been happening for a while.”
“Yes and no. Physically, it’s only been a few weeks.”
“And…emotionally?” James’s mouth moves awkwardly around the syllables, like even acknowledging the existence of emotions is more than his cold little brain can handle.
“A long time. A long fucking time.” I almost empty the glass of whiskey in another long sip. “Since I fucking met her, man.”
There it is. The truth, out there, finally. I’ve felt like this since I was fourteen, being introduced to the pretty girl with too-long dark bangs almost covering her hazel eyes, looking at me like I might bite.
Every day before Dad and Emily got married, I prayed they’d call it off. If they broke up, the crush wouldn’t mean anything. As soon as they said “I do,” I was perverted. Some pathetic, depraved nymphomaniac who was so messed up, he wanted his own fucking sister. The fact that she wasn’t blood was a technicality. It didn’t absolve me.
So I swallowed it down, hoping it would go away. It didn’t. It just got worse and fucking worse, the more I got to know her. Then one night, near the end of high school, we were both stupid enough to kiss, just once—enough to seal my fate.
“Tell me the truth, James.” I look up at him. “How fucked up am I?”
The edge of his mouth twitches, a hint at a smile. “No more fucked up than I already thought you were. She’s not your real sister, Ryan.”
“You’re my friend, though.”
“Ish.” There’s a flash of humor in James’s cold eyes, which might be the weirdest thing that’s happened all night.”
“What will the rest of the world think?”
James tilts his head. “Do you care?”
“Yes.” I shake my head. “I mean, I don’t care what strangers think, but I care about you guys. My poker buddies. My family.”
“Ah.” That’s all James says. I know he won’t feed me empty promises, telling me that everyone will be okay with it. If James is cool with it, I’m guessing that Nate, Beau, and Luke would fall in line. But our parents…
