“What do you mean?”
“I mean there is too much at stake.”
“I don’t understand. Dominic, we’re married,” she smiled weakly. “We’re allowed to kiss. To even feel something like that…”
Shaking his head, he waved a hand to dismiss what never should have taken place. “Your gossip rag is unearthing too much trouble. You’ve opened Pandora’s box without knowing a thing.”
Whatever softness he might have prompted in their kiss now faded. She turned to stone as her shoulders stiffened. It hurt this time to see her expression close. Bitterness flashed in her eyes as Verity asked, “Then you do fault me for having my journal.”
“Journal, rag, newspaper, it means nothing to me.”
“It means everything to me!”
He forced a sharp breath. It wasn’t meant to be an insult but apparently that was how she took it. Moving on, he tried to explain, “Your edition has reached all of London. You said too much.”
“The truth deserves to be shared,” she defended herself.
“Even if it hurts people?”
“I…” She hesitated before nodding.
He sighed. “Do you even know who it will hurt?”
Verity looked away for a moment, her brow furrowing. She gave it a moment before turning back to him. “I know some of what I said may not be entirely correct. But I had to try. I have too many questions that cannot be answered. If someone else can find the answers… Or if I can learn them by sharing these clues… It must mean something to someone. Won’t it?”
Catching himself from making accusations, Dominic pressed a hand to his head. He didn’t like complicated matters like this. If only Cassian could have already talked to her. If only Verity had never written the piece. If only so many things hadn’t happened.
“I don’t even know how you knew,” Verity muttered under her breath.
“The clues were there,” he informed her shortly. “I’ve known for some time and that alarming piece confirmed it for me.”
She jerked her head up. “Then you do know something.”
“I merely understood you, not that I know everything.”
“But you know something? I don’t understand. Why haven’t you said anything to me? We’re married, Dominic. Why wouldn’t you tell me about knowing about my journal? There’s so much we could have talked about. We could have had conversations. I could have made my piece better, or changed it. Maybe it wouldn’t even be necessary,” she started to ramble.
Dominic held back a wince as he heard the hope growing in her voice. That she wanted to have that semblance of control again. That knowledge.
How well he knew the feeling.
“I chose not to,” Dominic interrupted her at last. “That was my choice. My timing.”
She paused for a moment before expelling a breath. “Is that all you have to say? To leave me so close and so far from understanding anything?”
Needing space between them, Dominic glanced around before moving around to the other side of his desk. The large furniture piece offered protection. Instead of sitting, he leaned forward slightly with his fingertips pressed against the familiar wood. He knew every groove now.
Verity stepped forward and tucked her feet under her once she took her seat. Then she sat there, watching and waiting.
What is safe to tell her? To keep her informed and still safe?
“You are correct,” Dominic grudgingly released the words one at a time, “That your uncle’s death was not what you were told.”
“Oh.” She clasped a hand over her mouth.
Tension vibrated through the rooms. Even as he dropped his gaze, he felt the tightness in the air. She looked at him waiting. Not impatiently, almost fearful. Because once he said anything, he couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t pretend.
Tell me you don’t want to hear it, Verity. You don’t want to know.
