The Dirty Series 2(21)

He reaches out one of his strong hands. I want him to be reaching for me, cupping the side of my face, pressing against the small of my back while he kisses me like tomorrow might never come. Instead he flips open the portfolio and scans the top sheet.

“I have no problem with this schedule.”

Christian’s voice gives away nothing, but his eyes…

I want to say, why did you lie to me? I want to say, how could you? I want to say, take it back. I want to howl my heartbreak at him.

I say none of those things.

Instead I say, “Wonderful. I won’t take up any more of your time today, Mr. Pierce. I’ll see you on Monday for the veteran’s benefit event.”

And then, even as my heart is tearing in two, I rise from my seat and extend my hand across the desk to him.

He rises to meet me, his eyes never leaving mine, and puts out his hand.

Takes mine in his.

Shakes.

Like we’re business associates, and nothing more. Yet at the touch of our skin I feel it—that connection, that undeniable recognition…

My heart is never going to be whole again.

He drops my hand and turns to go, and I sit back down, my fists balled in my lap.

Christian pauses, his hand on the door handle, and looks back at me.

“This?” he says, waving his hand between us. “It isn’t over.”

Then he’s gone.





Chapter Forty-Four





Christian



I don’t know what came over me back there.

That’s a fucking lie.

I know exactly what came over me, and what came over me is that I’m in love with Quinn Campbell. I’m in love with her, and there’s nothing that anyone can do about it.

On Monday, I put some things into motion. I made a few calls. I consulted with a few people, anonymously, because I’m not as stupid as my decisions make me seem.

With every moment that’s passed since I left my father’s office on Monday, the way ahead has become clearer and clearer. It’s like a light has gone on in my head, illuminating everything I need to do with such clarity that it’s blinding.

I don’t care.

The only truth that matters is that I have to get her back.

When I sat down across from Quinn, I saw the struggle in her eyes. I saw what she was trying so valiantly to hide. I saw it in the way there were tiny crescents on two of her knuckles from clenching her hands into fists. I heard it in the tired strain in her voice. And I felt it between us, the connection stretched so tight it’s ready to snap.

But it hasn’t yet.

That’s what buoys me as I get the hell out of HRM’s headquarters and slide into the back of the town car.

It’s not over for her.

She might tell herself that it is. She might even tell other people—Carolyn comes to mind—that she’s done with me. I’m only surprised that Quinn didn’t admit it to me just now, during the meeting. She prides herself on honesty. I haven’t forgotten how she told me she learned about Elijah—the person she thought was Elijah—while sitting at that very desk. It’s not like her to hide things, which means that I hurt her deeply.

It also means that she hasn’t made up her mind yet.

She’s hedging her bets, not wanting to give up more information than is absolutely necessary.

Once again, I’m impressed by her professionalism in the face of total devastation.

When I got up to leave, I couldn’t keep myself under control any longer. I had to say something, anything, to acknowledge the situation we’re in. I certainly didn’t plan it, otherwise I’d have said something other than “this isn’t over.”

Of course it isn’t fucking over. If nothing else, we have to work with each other until…

Until what? Until she rats me out? She’s not going to do that. If she was going to, she’d have done it by now.

What else is there to do?

She could quit.

No, she couldn’t. Quinn isn’t a quitter. She came out here to build a new life for herself, and she’s not the kind of woman who’s going to flee the city without giving notice just because a new relationship didn’t make the cut.

Or so she thinks.

While Louis navigates the town car through the midmorning traffic, I fight the urge to tell him to turn around right now.

It’s not over.

I want to go back there and explain what I’m planning to do, but it’s taking longer than I expected to get all the pieces in place.

There’s also the fact that she probably thinks I’m a disturbed liar—a felonious criminal. Maybe she even thinks that I murdered my brother.

It’s also entirely possible that I’ll be prosecuted for identity theft once…

I can’t think about that now.

The only thing that matters to me is how I feel when I’m with Quinn, and how she feels when she’s with me. The only thing that matters is us.