And now I’m . . . shocked, seeing us on her computer screen, me pounding inside of her, her head thrown back, her long legs wound tight around me as she clutches my shoulders with her hands. There’s no sound, but I don’t need to hear it to remember. She’s panting hot, encouraging words, and I’m sliding so deep inside her I groan her name, ready to give in to the urge and let my orgasm take over.
Damn. It’s sort of hot, seeing us together like this. Maybe I can understand why she kept it, but still. She should’ve let me see this. At the very least told me about it. I hit pause, catching her at a particularly good angle. The expression on her face tells me she’s pretty damn close to orgasm.
I really like seeing that expression on her face, but live and in person. Not on a video I happen to discover hidden away on her computer. Why would she keep it? Was she hoping to somehow use it against me if I did her wrong? I’ve gone out with vindictive women before. Women out to get me before I got them, always on the defense when I never thought that way in the first place.
“What are you doing?”
I glance up to find Marina standing just inside her office, her eyes bloodshot, her expression tight. She looks terrible.
So, so sad.
Pushing away from her desk, I go to her, but she dodges me at the last minute. “What happened? Are you okay?” I ask, worry consuming me. She’s acting odd. “Gina said you went home because you weren’t feeling well.”
“I’m fine. Really.” She runs a hand over her head, messing up her hair rather than fixing it. She’s looking at me like she doesn’t quite know what to do with me. “I had a headache. So I went home. Had an interesting conversation with my mother too. Let me tell you, it didn’t help with my headache whatsoever. I’d say after her news, it’s even worse. I had to get out of there, so I came back here.”
My heart skips over itself. Shit. “What did you two talk about?” I ask, afraid to hear her answer.
“Oh, you know. She’s worried I’m going to die a bitter, single, jobless old woman.” One delicate brow rises and I know exactly what she’s referring to.
Double shit. This is not the way I wanted her to find out.
“Marina,” I start, and she holds up her hand, silencing me.
“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” she says quietly, her expression flat, her eyes dim. “Tell me the truth. When were you going to let me know huh, Gage? When?”
She knows. I’d asked her father to keep it a secret so I could tell her she’s not losing the bakery and I withheld the information too long. Now she’s pissed. “It’s not what you think—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“Then what am I supposed to think? I don’t understand how you can keep something so incredibly important from me. Who are you? Why would you do this? The bakery closing changes everything, my entire life! I’ll have nothing. No job, no nothing. All because of you.” She rushes toward me, shoving at my chest so hard I take a step back, shocked at the force behind her push. “You’re evil.”
Wait. Her dad didn’t tell her about the bakery. This is even worse. She thinks I’m trying to shut her down. “Marina—”
“Shut up. You’re a liar. Withholding information is just as bad as lying. I can’t believe you would do this to me. I thought you lo . . .” She clamps her lips shut, closing her eyes and slowly shaking her head.
“Let me explain myself. It’s not what you think,” I start, but she opens her eyes and glares at me.
“Don’t bother trying to explain, Gage. You got what you wanted. I knew you wanted to buy those buildings from the start, so I don’t know why I’m so surprised or hurt. I guess I got too caught up.”
Damn it. She’s not even listening to me. “What about your secret?” I toss out, my voice flat.
Her eyes widen, tears sparkling in them. Damn it, just the sight of them makes my chest ache. “What secret?”
I fold my arms across my chest, leaning against the edge of her desk. If she won’t even listen to me, then I need to get the truth out of her regarding the security tape. It’s weird that she never mentioned it. “I think you might know what I’m talking about.”
Chapter Fourteen
* * *
Marina
I HAVE ABSOLUTELY no idea what he’s talking about. I’m not the secret-keeper in this relationship. He is.
And boy is his secret a doozy, one that’s going to change my life forever.
He acts like it’s no big deal.
“Stop playing games,” I murmur, letting my anger fuel me. He’s propped against my desk, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his biceps straining against his long-sleeved shirt, but I ignore the way my body responds to his. He always makes me feel this way. Hungry, desperate, needy. All for him.