"Of course," I said, keeping my voice level. "What's on your mind?"
She looked around the room, meeting Kevin and David's stares in warning.
"I'd like a private word."
Kevin scrambled for his things like a madman, David no better. The two of them rushed to the door, Kevin dropped his favorite fountain pen but didn't come back for it. One foot already through the door.
Jennifer tilted her head, studying me with the same focus she brought to hostile negotiations. "The Davidson situation."
I stiffened. "What about it?"
"The official story is that he leaked manipulated numbers. Doctored documents designed to tank the merger and make Elion look weaker than it was." She paused. "That's what Falkirk's PR team is pushing. That's what the press ran with."
"Right," I said carefully.
She met me head-on. "And that's bullshit." She leaned forward, finger pointing at me. "You know it and so do I."
My face went cold. So did my hands. Every instinct suddenly cataloging the woman in front of me—not as a friend, but as a threat. One that could eat me alive.
I didn't answer. Couldn't.
"Well?" she pressed. Mouth set in a wire-thin line.
I looked down, clicking my lacquered nails against each other in my lap like a schoolgirl who'd just been caught cheating.
"I don't know what to say."
Her bottom lip quivered. "Tell me the truth, Emma."
My mind raced, searching for a solution. An answer for something I was still questioning myself.
"I don't know," I said, raising my head. "Honestly. I don't."
She shook her head, hurt etched across her face.
"I know it isn't good enough and I wish I had more," I murmured. "But it's all I have."
"That doesn't make me feel any better."
I nodded. "I know."
Her shoulders slumped. "I thought you trusted me more than this."
"I do—" I blurted, reaching for the hurt I knew I wouldn't be able to soothe.
"No," she whispered, voice cracking. "You don't."
And in that moment I wanted to tell her everything. Damien and I. How he'd protected me. Protected her. Protected Elion. But I couldn't. Not yet.
I closed my eyes, drawing a breath that came too tight.
"I can't tell you everything, Jennifer." I opened my eyes, meeting hers. "But I can promise you two things."
I held up a finger. "The first—I promise I will. I'll tell you everything. Everything I possibly can. But I can't today. And I need you to trust me on this."
It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either—and I hated what it made me.
She blanched, mouth opening, words on her tongue. But I continued, raising a second finger.
