“Don’t make me ask again,” I say, tone clipped but calm.
“I never left. Came down here when everyone else left for the night so I could be here for our morning workout, sorry I missed the last few days, but my keycard seems to be malfunctioning,” he grins at me, taking another step forward as I parry back.
“Not a mistake,” I respond, lifting the foam roller a little higher in warning. Not the most menacing weapon, but I didn’t have a lot to work with.
He wraps one hand around the end of the roller andtugs, pulling me into his arms effectively eliminating the space I was desperate to keep.
“Much better,” he murmurs as I lift a hand to steady myself against his wrinkled dress shirt. I think I’ve finally found my footing when I lean back to look at him, and it’s like being knocked on my ass all over again. The playful grin is gone as he looks into my eyes, searching for any hint of warmth he isn’t going to find.
I move to step out of his arms, but he gives a gentle squeeze against my waist, and the feel of being back in his arms pausing my escape. The same arms that once felt like the safest place in the world, now a reminder of how easily I was lured into a lie.
“Please, Harper…”
“Don’t,” I cut him off, closing my eyes for a moment, regaining my composure before I cover his hands with my own, gently moving them off my body to hang like dead weight at his sides.
“You don’t understand, I needed—” he starts, but I can’t hear his excuses. The pretty lies he tells himself to justify the way he violated my home, the way he used me.
“I do understand,” I keep my tone empty and neutral, the effort of holding in a scream causing my eye to twitch. “You had—I’m sorry,have—a job to do.You keep drugs off the streets, and that keeps people safe.”
“You understand…” he repeats, skepticism coating each word.
“Yes. I understand,” I tell him, my face giving away nothing.It’s like every insufferable monologue from a man has trained me to keep my face blank and my opinion to myself. But this time it’s for my benefit, not his. He has already taken too much from me. I will not let him see the damage he has caused, the devastation left in the wake of his empty words.
“But you won’t forgive me.” It’s not a question. He already knows it’s the truth. I step closer to him, my hand slithering uphis chest until it rests against his cheek. His breathing becomes more labored as I stroke my thumb across the apple of his cheek. From fear or nerves, I can’t tell.I don’t care.
“I let you into my home. Into my bed. I trusted you with my secrets and my life.” I lean into him, and the venom I tried to hold back seeps into my words.His hands remain at his sides, tense and rigid as my words bite into flesh. “I believed you were worthy of that trust, of me. I made a mistake, many in fact. So, I will smile and play nice while you deceive my staff and my patrons, while they fall for thischaracteryou’ve created.” I step back letting my fingers fall away slowly, knowing this is the last time he will feel a soft touch at my hand. “And when this is over, you will never set foot inCirqueagain. The memory of you will fade, your name will be forgotten. There is nothing to forgive, because there is nothing left.”
“Sunshine…”
“Have a good work out,Mr. Graves.” I turn around and start to walk away before he finds the courage to speak.
“You promised.”
Tell me you know I love you. That you know this is real.
“Then you’ve made liars of us both.”
35
COLTON
My eyes track her glide through the club, smiling at patrons as hands clasp shoulders and lips press against cheeks. She’s the same Harper she’s always been: commanding and unapproachable, but desired by all. My eyes are not the only ones focused on her movements, Wade taking my place as her ever-present shadow.
How little he appreciates being so close to her. How much I took it for granted.
She has made good on her word—our conversations have been perfectly amicable. It’s been excruciating. I was prepared for ire and vitriol, for her to hate me for a time and rage against this thing lost between us. I was ready for a fight.
I wasn’t prepared for indifference, as though she spoke the truth when she said there was nothing between us. I’ve spent four months watching her use that mask on others, wearing a blanket of calm until long after the opponent has fled. Little by little, I watched her relax in my presence until she was as comfortable with me as she was with her own blood. That foundation we built is crumbling at my feet, and I find myself once again desperate for a peek behind the mask.
“Stop staring. It’s creepy.”Speaking of her own blood.
“Hello, Sadie. Are you having a good night?” I ask, steeling myself for whatever barb she’s come prepared with. Harper might not want to fight, but her sister hasn’t pulled her punches. At all.
“Better than yours will be,” she replies, her voice laced with mischief—the kind that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand tall—as she concentrates on the tablet cradled in her crook of her arm. Sadie, I have come to learn, is the embodiment of sunshine.Until she isn’t.
She’s sneakier than I ever gave her credit for, appearing in places as though she walked through the wall, silent and menacing. Sadie’s tactic is subtler than her sister’s, though no less effective. In many ways, I think she might be more terrifying than her older sister, having learned from the best and twisted that dark monster within to bend with her skill set.
Harper saw the darkness within and let it consume her. Sadie tamed it.
