Pinning my lips so my mouth doesn’t gape, I wander through the space, my fingertips trailing across the decadent fabrics and various shelves, my lungs empty. “Ryker, this is … I could never wear the same thing twice for months. And months. Probably a year. This is too much.”
His face remains impassive, voice casual. “Nothing is too much. It’s part of the agreement.”
“I didn’t see anything about clothing. And I don’t understand how you managed all of this in a day.”
“We have enough people working for us that we could construct a castle in an afternoon.” He sticks his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “It was the clause about providing all essential tools, accommodations, and necessities for you to adhere to the contract.”
“Oh, that one.” A half-laugh, half-strangled scoff tumbles out of me. “I interpreted that to mean items like a laptop, Post-it Notes, and a staple gun, but cashmere, Birkin bags, and Jimmy Choos make sense, too, I guess. In your mind. I just …” I twirl around to face him fully, wondering if all these years apart andall the messiness I experienced with Dalton has caused me to lose touch with reality, to misconstrue things. “You’re mad at me.”
“Yes.”
“And we’re not friends?” I prod further.
“No.”
Frustrated with his unwavering one-word answers, I fling my hand back to the toy kingdom hethrew togetherfor my three-year-old. “And Remy is Dalton’s son.”
He shrugs, though his jaw could cut glass. “With your beautiful smile and my goddamn middle name. Your point?”
That hint of my unhinged Ryker urges me to press. His restraint the last twenty-four hours has been so unnerving. He’s been hot and cold and everything in between. From flirty to all business, his only definitive statement is that we aren’t friends. I’m stumped.
“I don’t know.” I shake my head, scouring my mind for the right question. “Why the overtures?”
“I kidnap in style.” Inside his pockets, his fists curl, and he huffs, showing me more of the man who can’t hold things in. “When have I not fucking taken care of you?”
“You always have, but … something’s different.” I don’t bother concealing the ache in my voice when I launch my accusation. “You’re hiding things.”
“Yes,” he responds without apology.
“Why?” My pulse gallops ferociously. I feel dizzy.
Again, he stares right into the deepest crevasses of my heart, making me feel both naked and seen for the first time in years. “You’re not ready.”
I blow out a choppy breath, heeding that caution. I might not be prepared to hear what I’m about to ask, but I’m desperate for a scrap of truth to piece things together. “If there isn’t anythingabout Dalton’s father to tell me, is it about my parents? Is that what you’re hiding?”
In a single stuttered heartbeat, he’s in front of me, crowding me near the tall shelving, hands still in his pockets, possibly strangling the life out of those dice he was fiddling with earlier. “What are you talking about? Did you remember something?” At my silence, he grinds his teeth, and his rumbling tone is lethal. “You’re hiding things too.”
“Yeah,” I admit, working through an arduous swallow.
Even without him touching me, his intensity seeps into my skin.
“Why?” He repeats my query, provoking me to follow suit.
“You’re not ready.” The scope of what’s going on here is still hazy, but elements are becoming clearer. “Was the indefinite time frame more accurate than the five months you amended?”
His icy blues thaw with both anguish and empathy. “What do you think?”
Nothing is adding up. Or everything is.
“Maybe that I need a minute.”
“Hey.” He smooths my hair away from my forehead, his touch so tender that it almost hurts, his gaze romping all over my face, his voice an alluring blend of satin and gravel. “You said it. We’re not the same. So, we need to find our way through this. Together.”
A pause that is teeming with unspoken messages severs his reassurance, until he carries on. “The clothes and accessories are to give you a strong start. I want you to feel like yourself again, to show up as part of Axel’s team and know you’re an asset, the most badass attorney La Lune Noire has ever seen. Whether that’s the Mercy from five years ago or a brand-new one.”
His belief in me is disarming. It’s been a long time since someone has championed me that way—not since him. But it’s more complicated now.
Whatever this tantalizing spark is zapping between us, it elicits pandemonium in my mind and tingling inother places. I want so many contradictory things. To melt into him or run far away, to explore a path that was never supposed to be mine or blockade it so I don’t lose everything. It’s too much to process. Things I once denied are living and breathing, morphing me into a liar. And the things I thought were lies suddenly have a thread of truth to them. Everything is upside down.
