“I have keys that will get me past every deadbolt.”
He must’ve come in through the back before his driver knocked on the front door? I don’t even care. He’s in my house. He came for me.
My pulse goes wild, throbbing in my throat. He’s so insanely good-looking I can’t focus. It’s not just the sexy suit, the alluring eyes, and strong jawline. It’s the proud way he holds himself, the confidence he carries through every action. He radiates tenacity and strength without opening his mouth.
I clear my voice. “Was I supposed to get in the sedan?”
“You tell me.”
“I think…” I scrunch my face, contemplating. “It doesn’t matter. The point was you wanted me thinking about the night we met.”
Stern and indifferent, he crooks a finger, commanding me closer.
I’m captivated by his eyes. They’re things of beauty and power, made of magical ingredients that fuse with my eyes to create an unbreakable spell. I have to physically shake myself to look away and put one foot in front of the other.
Stepping into the kitchen, I pause just out of arm’s reach. “How did you know I moved back into this house?”
“I had you followed when you left the casino.”
“You didn’t know I was in town?”
“No.” He casts a clinical glance around the kitchen. “How did you get the house back?”
“Apparently, Cole bought it a month after I sold it. You haven’t talked to him?”
He shakes his head, expression tensing. “Why isn’t he here with you? He stopped answering his phone when—”
“I left. Or rather…he left. But it’s not what you think.”
I need a drink, and wine isn’t going to cut it. Crouching, I dig through the bottom cabinet until I find the bottle of scotch I bought a couple weeks ago. Then I pour two glasses and slide one to him.
“When did you start drinking scotch?” He lifts the tumbler to his perfect lips and sips.
“Tonight. Can we…?” I point toward the sitting room. “Sit down?”
At his nod, I lead the way.
We settle on opposite ends of the couch, cradling our drinks. I take a second to steel my backbone. I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to fuck this up. I’m just going to lay it all out, honestly and maturely.
“I never got over you.” I gulp down a swallow of scotch and launch into a fit of coughing.
Fuck that shit. I set the glass aside, wait for the burn in my throat to subside, and turn to Trace.
He watches me with disinterest, but I don’t miss the twitch in his fingers. He wants to reach for me, and I desperately want to be worthy of his touch.
“I tried to make it work with Cole.” I brush the hair from my face. “We had the connection, the commitment, it’s just…it wasn’t the same.” I stare into his eyes, let him see the raw wounds in mine. Wounds that bleed for Cole. “When he came back from the grave, I wasn’t the same person. I loved another man, and I still do.”
“But you picked him.” His hand balls against his thigh. “He’s your first choice.”
“He was a choice. Don’t you get it? You were never a decision.” I breathe in, recalling the words he said to me. “You’re the realization clawing at my insides without coercion or doubt or the pressure of time. My heart beats for you and only you, not because you command it, but because we’re meant to be.”
He sets the glass on the coffee table and rises from the couch, staring at the front door.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, heart aching. “For everything, but mostly for making you so unhappy.”
“I’m a grown man, Danni.” His voice is harsh, snapping through the room. “I don’t need your apologies or your coddling.”
Sucking in a breath, I jump to my feet. “I’m not coddling, dammit. I’m fighting.” I dart around the coffee table and stand before him, tilting my head back to see his face. “The day we went on the balloon ride, you told me I made you ridiculously happy, like you discovered a magical cure. You said you wanted to lock me away and protect me. Remember that?”
His jaw stiffens as he glares at me. Yeah, he remembers.
“I want to make you feel that way again. Lock me away, Trace. Do whatever you want with me. Just let me in.”
His unnatural stillness makes my scalp tingle. I search the shadows darkening his face, looking for hints that he’s considering my words. I only see pain.
He reaches into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, removes a folded document, and offers it to me. I don’t have to open it to know it’s an employment contract. It’s not a tearful reunion , but it’s a lifeline, nonetheless. I grab on with both hands.