But the whole time, all I can think about is the weight of her hand in mine, and how much I want it back.
CHAPTER 9
Remy
It’s been seventy-two hours since Montana. Seventy-two hours since I woke up in Enzo’s arms and had to pretend it meant nothing. Seventy-two hours of avoiding eye contact and keeping my distance and trying not to think about how his thumb traced circles on my hand in his sleep.
The problem is, I’m not only thinking about Enzo. I catch myself staring at Ansel’s hands during meetings, wondering what they’d feel like on my skin. I watch Breck smile and want to know what’s real when he stops performing. I want to kiss him hard enough that he forgets to be anyone but himself.
The triplets are each pulling me in different directions, and I don’t know how much longer I can pretend I’m not affected.
Probably not much longer.
I’m three steps from my office when Damon appears in the hallway, blocking my path.
“I want to talk to you.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
My hand tightens on my coffee mug. “I’m busy. You know, doing the job you told everyone I couldn’t handle.”
I don’t miss his subtle eye roll. “This won’t take long.” He steps closer, lowering his voice. “You remember that littleside project you did in college? The one where you accessed university financial records without authorization?”
My blood runs cold. I shared this with him when we were together, a vulnerable moment in bed when I thought I’d found someone I could trust with my secrets. “That was five years ago. I was exposing fraud.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He leans against the wall, casual. “What matters is that it’s still technically illegal. Computer Fraud and Abuse Act, remember? The same law we’re using against the guy who breached our systems.”
I force myself to meet his eyes. “What do you want?”
“I want you gone.” His mask slips, and I see the ugliness underneath. “Quit. Walk away. Tell them it’s not a good fit or whatever bullshit excuse you want to use. But leave.”
“Or what? You’ll report something that happened when I was twenty-one?” I cross my arms. “While you’re at it, tell the investigators about the time I jaywalked in college. Really round out the criminal profile.”
He pushes off the wall. “One anonymous tip to the right people, and suddenly, the triplets’ star employee is under investigation. Do you think they’ll keep you around during that mess? Do you think they’ll trust you?”
Heat floods through me—anger, fear, and humiliation all at once. “You’re bluffing.”
Please be bluffing, I silently hope.
“Try me.” He takes another step closer, and I hate that I back up. “You’ve got until Friday to resign. Otherwise, I make some calls.”
“Is there a problem here?” Ansel interrupts.
I didn’t hear him approach, but suddenly, he’s there, and I don’t know whether to be scared or relieved.
Damon straightens, smile returning. “Just catching up with Remy. We were just finishing up.”
“Good.” Ansel doesn’t look at me, but his hand settles on the small of my back. “Remy, I need those Montana debrief notes. My office?”
It’s not a question. It seems that nothing with Ansel ever is.
“Of course.” My hands are shaking, and I grip my coffee mug tighter to ensure I don’t spill it.
Ansel guides me past Damon with a hand that’s both gentle and possessive. I don’t look back, but I feel Damon’s stare boring into my spine.
I try to find any trace of the person I fell for. The Damon who brought me soup when I was sick. The man who remembered my mom’s birthday without being reminded, and who stayed on the phone with me for three hours when my dad’s diagnosis came back, so that I wouldn’t have to cry alone.
That Damon feels like a ghost. Someone who died and left this bitter stranger wearing his face.
We don’t speak until we’re in Ansel’s office with the door closed.
