“Sinclair put it there.”
I look up as he re-enters the room. He wasn’t gone long; Molly must have gone straight to sleep.
“You don’t have many photos,” I say, more a question than an observation.
“I know.” He walks over and looks at the photograph. “After they died I took a lot down. Seeing them every day made it harder. But maybe it’s time I put some up again.”
“Maybe,” I agree.
I don’t think I’d ever be able to take the photograph of my mother down from my bedside cabinet. I love seeing her smile every day, as a reminder that I had her once. But we all deal with grief in different ways, and I can’t judge Sullivan for what he’s needed to do in order to cope with his.
He clears his throat. “You know my mother was having an affair before she died? With her childhood love.”
I don’t say anything to confirm I already knew. He doesn’t need reminding that one Google search of his name, and all of his family’s tragic past comes up for the world to read about.
“The guy came back to New York recently. I paid him a visit with my uncle and a couple of our security team.”
“You did?”
His profile is rigid as he keeps his attention fixed on the photograph and my gut twists at what that could mean.
“I didn’t hurt him, Tate. But I damn well wanted to.”
I breathe in and let it out slowly, the knots in my gut loosening in relief that he hasn’t put himself in danger of legal repercussions because of this man.
“That must have been tough. Seeing him.”
“It was. I hate him for what he did to my father. He didn’t find out about their affair until after she was gone. He’s lived with questions ever since. One’s he can never get answers to. And then this guy walks back into our lives more than two years later and churns everything up again with some flimsy story he’s concocted about their deaths. All just lies with no proof. That much was obvious when we paid him a visit. I think he just wanted to cause us all pain again out of bitterness that she was never going to leave my father for him.”
“I’m sorry.”
Sullivan’s eyes pinch at the corners, and he inhales slowly before tipping his head back and blowing out a deep sigh toward the ceiling. “Thanks, Tate.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
The question is pointless, I know it is. I can’t possibly have anything to offer, other than listening if Sullivan wishes to talk to me.
He lowers his head, his gaze capturing mine, and runs his tongue over his teeth like he’s contemplating whatever it is he’s thinking about saying.
“Go on,” I encourage.
His attention drops over my uniform, roaming over my hips and breasts.
“You could let me kiss you again.”
“You want to kiss me?”
“More than anything.”
I twist my head to one side and study him with a smile. “You ask so nicely, yet in business I know you’re a man who takes what he wants.”
He steps closer. “That’s business.”
“So what’s this?” I slowly wave my finger between our chests.
His gaze heats as he looks down at me. “This is me spending time with the woman I can’t stop thinking about… You know I can’t stop, right?” He hitches one of those sinful brows.
I search his eyes, wanting to dive into them and swim alongside every sexy husked word that leaves his lips. But a niggling part of me is still reluctant.
