Page 95 of Bossman

I took a step closer, forcing him to look at me. “You know what? You’re right. Because the right man for me would have the balls to at least give me the truth. I have no idea what happened, but I don’t deserve this.”

I saw a flash of something in his eyes, and for a half of a second, it looked like he was going to reach out to me. But he didn’t. Instead, he took a full step back, almost as if he needed distance to keep himself from touching me.

I began to turn around—wanting to get the hell out of there so I could disappear with some shred of my dignity intact—but then turned back.

“You know the worst part of this? You were the first person who’d made me feel safe since I was a kid.”

Chapter 30

CHASE — TWO DAYS AGO

“There’s a Detective Balsamo here to see you.”

My secretary’s face was wary when she came into my office. I had an eleven o’clock meeting I was already running late for after my director of marketing had interrupted my morning to tell me what he thought of my new relationship.

This day was getting better by the fucking minute.

“Can you call R&D and tell them I’m going to need to reschedule?”

“For later today?”

“No. Leave it open as of now.”

She nodded. “Should I send the detective in?”

“Give me five minutes, and then she can come on back.”

I drew the electronic blinds and opened a text message from Reese canceling our lunch date. Could this day get any shittier?

Perhaps I shouldn’t have challenged the powers that be with that question.

Nora Balsamo was the lead detective on Peyton’s case. She was early thirties, slim, attractive, with blonde hair that was always pulled back in a ponytail. The first time we met, I’d looked right past her—literally over her head—and asked her captain for a more experienced detective. I never even gave her a chance.

Those early days were definitely not my best. Looking back, I’d wanted everyone around me to pay—especially the cops. I blamed them for not doing more to help Eddie. Early intervention could have changed everything. Today, however, even though Peyton would never be an easy subject to speak of, I was in a better place, more accepting of how the past had shaped who I was today. I was pretty sure my therapist was driving around in a Range Rover from her hours spent making that acceptance happen a few years back.

I stood when Detective Balsamo entered and walked around my desk to greet her. “Nice to see you, Detective.”

She smiled. “Is it? I’m pretty sure you’ve been avoiding me the last two weeks.”

I’d forgotten she called bullshit as sport.

I chuckled. “Maybe I was. I’m sure you’re a great person, so don’t take this the wrong way, but I never look forward to your visits.”

She smiled, and I motioned to the seating area near the windows.

“Can I get you something to drink? A bottle of water?”

“I’m good. Thank you.” She sat on the couch. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. Really good, actually.”

I took the chair across from her and caught her looking over my shoulder out the window. It was impossible to miss Peyton’s giant-sized face still painted on the building across the way. Her eyes returned to me without her asking a question, verbally at least. The woman had a stealth ability to make me offer more than I ever wanted to.

“We’re actually in the process of planning a new marketing campaign,” I said.

She nodded and kept looking at me pensively. It was probably my own paranoia, but I always felt like I was being observed around cops.

“So, to what do I owe this in-person visit, Detective?”