Page 60 of Entwined With You

He glances down at the tear-stained material that, if we’re being honest, is probably a little snot-stained now, too. “It’s not a problem. You can cry on my clothes anytime you wish. Hopefully the next time you do, it won’t be because I hurt you.”

I blink. “You didn’t hurt me. I’m the one who walked away. Who didn’t trust you. I should never have—”

He cuts me off with a finger to my lips. “I propose a truce. You didn’t hurt me, and I didn’t hurt you. And the next time one of us doesn’t hurt the other, we’ll sit down on the couch with a glass of wine or whiskey and either talk it through or get wasted and roll around naked until we forget what the problem even was.”

I’m fighting to hold back another round of tears. “I love you.”

“Never stop saying that.”

“I won’t.”

“And will you do one other thing for me?”

I nod.

“Will you trust me. No matter how crazy something might seem, will you trust me that I’m doing the right thing? Will you trust that I won’t ever lie to you?”

“Yes,” I say, flinging myself at him, my arms going around his waist as I hold him close, never wanting to let go. But I do, of course. Eventually I step back, glance around the mostly bare room for a box of tissues, then dig in my purse for a crumpled one when my search comes up empty.

“Brax?” I ask, my eyes sweeping the room again. “Why are we having this conversation in here?”

“I need to tell you something. I thought it would be easier in a conference room.” His voice is calm and level. Eerily calm and level.

“Because of the visual aids?”

I was being sarcastic, but he just nods and says, “Yes.”

“Oh. Okay. Should I sit down. Because I kind of want to. To be honest, you’re freaking me out a little.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” I’ve pulled out a chair to sit in, but he’s perched on the table beside me. “I have a few things to tell you. You won’t like it. But I need you to listen. Can you do that?”

He’s still speaking in that eerie calm, and I’m certain that’s the freakiest part of this entire situation.

I’m wrong.

Twenty minutes later I’m sitting numb in my chair, having been battered with words like manipulation, enemy of the state, crimes against the state, unsanctioned missions, high-level conspiracies, and on and on and on.

“You can’t be serious. That’s the stuff of Hollywood, not real life.”

He shakes his head. “On the contrary, it’s about as real as it gets. The Sisters, for example. That supposed laser weapon that Group Ultra is trying to prevent going active by protecting those diamonds?”

I nod, still numb.

“They’re not trying to keep the diamonds from that weapon. They’re trying to gain control of the weapon.”

“You’re sure?” I can tell from his face that he’s sure. And when he turns on the giant screen, then scrolls through some slides he’s preloaded to his phone, I see just how deep this monster he’s talking about goes.

I bolt to my feet. “I think I’m going to be sick.” I start to run toward the door, then stop, just letting the waves of nausea pass over me as a truly vile thought enters my mind. “Am I in trouble?”

“No, baby. No. You’re here because we need your help.”

He presses a button and tells the woman he responds that he’s ready for Ryan. A few minutes later, a gorgeous and familiar-looking man steps in. “You’re Jamie Hunter’s husband,” I blurt, then blush like an idiot. Now really isn’t the time.

He only laughs. “I’m surprised you even noticed me in whatever photo you saw. Most people only see Jamie.”

“Can you blame them?” His wife is a stunning actress whom the camera absolutely loves.

“How are you holding up?” Ryan asks. “Did Brax fill you in?”