This is why I don’t let people in. She knows my stories now. She’s touched them and tasted them. I’m not sure what to do with someone who learns my secrets, only to cut me off. This stranger who’s currently my partner in crime, a co-conspirator in a betrayal I’m only pretending to believe in.
Why won’t she talk to me? I thought maybe as the day wore on, the ride through the Southwest terrain and into Austin would change her attitude, but no luck.
As frustration builds, so does my irritation. This might be a captor/captive situation, but I’ve gone above and beyond. She’s alive because of me. Had Declan implemented the Trinity Plan any later, she’d already be in the hands of the Russians, Grigori Rostov’s guys. She’d probably be dead.
Or wish she were.
My gut clenches at the thought. I glance over at her again.
I can’t find a single scar or read a single thought. She was more vulnerable pressed against my cock in the office closet at the Cypress than she is now, after I’ve touched, licked, or fucked every inch of her perfect body.
I’ve played the hero and acted as her personal chef. I’ve served as her bulletproof vest. And just like with Declan, it’s not enough.
A dull ache throbs beneath my rib cage. I urge myself to stop acting so dramatically. It’s a blow to my ego. That’s all.
In these last twenty-four hours, I seem to have lost track of the mission and become nothing more than a tool for others.
Maybe she’s figured that out too. Is she over me? Am I not enough? Am I a simple toy she’s had her fun with?
She analyzed every other truth inside me without breaking a sweat. Maybe she found my best-kept secret.
That I haven’t thought for myself in years. I feel like my free will vanished ages ago. That I’m chasing after some kind of validation from Declan that he’ll never give.
Has she seen all the way through me? Am I no longer appealing to someone like Trinity, who’s all books and brains?
I thought, after last night, things would change.
She seemed so open. She shared so much.
I was sure she trusted me completely.
Now? It’s like we’re back to square one.
I eye her pink cheeks, her little ski-slope nose. Her shimmering, coppery hair that challenges the sunset to a duel of color.
She’s beautiful and infuriating, and I don’t know what to do with her.
I shift in my seat, but my pants stick to my thighs and rub my stitches. A small grunt escapes me before I can stop it.
From the corner of my eye, I catch her head shifting in my direction before stopping short. She just talked herself out of showing concern.
A few days ago, she could’ve been a free woman. But she decided to stay, to help me, to offer me a new life.
To trust me.
Where the hell did that Trinity go? What’s this new role?
Declan always told Connor and me to “marry young and marry dumb.” It wasn’t until I met this woman that I realized he wasn’t being his normal sexist self. Managing the mind of an intelligent woman is exhausting. I’d rather face down Andrei’s thugs, ten to one, where at least I can see my odds as they come at me and strategize effectively in real time.
Even so, Trinity’s mind is her most attractive quality. If I want to understand her, I need to understand that brain.
Or at least try.
Maybe she believes she can mess with me by acting like the sex meant nothing.
Fine by me.
I’m used to being out in the cold, Trinity.
