Page 28 of Reveal

“Even better.”

“And a close family friend.”

“Oh, someone of the right social caliber, then. I’m sure you’ll be happy.” I have so many smart-ass things I could reply with, but I refrain because none of them will do a damn thing to make me feel any better.

“I missed you.”

“Couldn’t have missed me too much. You didn’t chase after me.” The last sentence is out before I can catch it, my own mind still hung up on five minutes ago—hell, on what happened in the Hamptons—when he did chase. When he did try to bang down my door only to be ignored. When he did come back to my house after that to speak to me. And of course, he did chase just now when I walked away.

But I don’t correct myself. Because even though he came to find me, even though he’s standing before me with hurt in his eyes, I’m more hurt. Instead, I just stand there and stare at him with my hands gripping my clutch while his singular look squeezes my heart.

“I didn’t chase?” He shakes his head. “Was this a test? Were you trying to see if I’d run after you so you’d believe I cared for you?”

Yes. No. I don’t know.

“Because I have chased you, Vaughn. I’ve chased when I’m a man who never chases, and you know what? Every time I do, you say no in some way or another. Did I fuck up? Yes. So it seems to me it doesn’t matter what I say or do. You’re going to hold it against me and ruin whatever it was we were working on defining between us.”

I’ve fallen in love with you, Vaughn.

His words from the other night repeat in my head, and I want to shut them out. They run a loop as he stares at me with puppy-dog eyes, and I wonder how the hell I’m supposed to know what to do next. Am I not forgiving him when I should be? Am I being too stubborn, someone others would dub a stupid female, like the ones I sometimes yell at in my old black-and-white movies? Or am I right in my thoughts and deserve more than this? More than him?

“What is it you want from me, Ryker?”

“You.”

“You did have me. My heart. My trust. Me.” I hold my hands out to my sides. “I think you’ve had a fair enough chance.”

I turn to walk away—back into the party because noise is better—but his hand is on my elbow.

“I already told you what happened. I can explain more if—”

“Empty explanations mean nothing. The damage was done the minute you thought it was okay to do it in the first place.”

“Christ, I fucked up.” He pounds a fist on the railing.

“Yeah. You used me.”

“You’re right. I did. I had a split second to make a decision about how to get that bastard to confess what he had on you. The choice was boys-will-be-boys versus making demands I knew he’d balk at. I chose the first. It was wrong. I fucked up in the worst imaginable way by doing so. I can’t change what I did, and I know I’d do it again in a heartbeat if I knew for a fact I could keep you safe. That I could get him to tell me whatever it is he has on you so you never had to worry about it again. So keep raking me over the fucking coals if it makes you feel better, Vaughn. Keep making me pay whatever price it is you feel I need to pay. Or just keep pushing me away because it’s easier to do that than to realize that you and I are fucking incredible together. Your choice.”

I stare at him—his words hit to the very core of everything I feel, and yet nowhere in there did he mention how his actions were beneficial to his client. Nowhere in there did he say he put me in more jeopardy than I already was. Nowhere did he explain how offering my body to the senator was going to win him whatever erroneous blackmail items he supposedly had on me.

The words poor baby ghost through my mind but don’t pass over my lips, because this, him, us, is just all too much. It hurts to look at him. To still want him. To still love him.

To finally want something I can’t have.

To maybe believe him.

“Excuse me.” I avert my eyes. “Archer must be looking for me.”

I escape without saying more, uncertain how I’m supposed to feel and unwilling to forgive.

And with my heart a lot worse for the wear.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Vaughn

“Stop staring at him.” The warmth of Archer’s voice hits my ears, and I know he’s right, but I argue with him anyway.