Chapter Fifteen
For the first time in years, fear curled in Ryan’s chest. It snuck up his throat, choked his thoughts and paralyzed his muscles.
He’d fucked up. Bad.
His future and all he’d worked to obtain sat on the precipice of her discretion. The Boardroom had always been a calculated risk. It’d been the one and only dalliance he’d ever let himself have in his forty-one years of life.
And now it could sink him.
“I was,” he stated, despite the screaming urge to deny his own admission. He’d been in the Boardroom with her. He’d fucked her twice. Inhaled her scent, tasted her skin, her mouth, her pussy until he’d drowned in the decadent flavors.
He couldn’t deny those things even if it cost him everything.
She sucked in a breath, acceptance passing over her features in incremental shifts from understanding to resolute. And she’d never been more beautiful.
Brie Wakeford didn’t cower or crumble or preen under the weight of her newfound knowledge and subsequent power. Her initial fiery reaction had given way to this cool control he could only admire.
She’d pulled her hair into a low pony about an hour into their working session, but thin wisps fell free now to frame her face in tempting softness. Her cheeks were flushed an alluring shade of red that’d risen with her anger. Resentment spewed from her glare to darken those normal blue eyes to a deeper, richer hue.
The power she held over him extended far beyond her knowledge of his sexual activities.
Her firm swallow hitched her throat and dragged memories of that same action beneath his palm. The feel of the muscles working. The power that’d hummed through him at her blind trust.
Would she ever trust him like that again?
No. She had no reason to.
“So where do we go from here?” Her voice had dropped to the focused business tone she’d employed in all her professional interactions with him. He never thought he’d miss that huskier, playful one. Or the softer one that could beg so beautifully.
Where was his head?
Emotions such as loss were something he’d purged long before he’d reached middle school. Attachment to anything, even his favorite stuffed animal, only resulted in its accelerated demise.
He checked his rambling thoughts behind his wall of useless items and shifted through the available tactical strategies. Every battle had a weakness along with a possible settlement.
“In many ways, I believe that is up to you,” he finally said. “But I should remind you of the NDA you signed prior to entering that room.”
Her nod was slow and cunning. “As did you—I presume.” The slight lift of her brow brought another wave of brash respect for her. She’d earned a heavy dose of that over the last hours of work, but to see that same calm intelligence applied now hitched it up another level.
“I did. As does everyone who chooses to play.”
“The details and clauses left little room for litigation.”
He ignored the shot of pride that could lead to arrogance at her unintentional compliment. “As all solid NDAs should.”
Her soft humph held only a small dose of mirth. “Nicely done.”
He didn’t deny or affirm her assumption when there was no point in it. “Your private activities will remain as such within the group.”
“The group?” There was no way to miss the dose of sarcasm attached to the question.
Years of practice kept his frustration from escaping. “If you have a question, ask it. Fishing will get you nothing.”
A long moment ticked by on the wavering line of her mouth. It lifted, fell, pinched slightly before a disbelieving smile broke free. She shook her head, arms falling from their crossed position over her chest. Her fingers started that quick running tap against her thumb before she spoke.
“How much will you honestly tell me?”
“How much do you want to know?” He could answer open-ended questions with questions all day.
“God.” She clamped her mouth shut, eyes closing briefly before her shoulders fell from their stiff hold. “I can’t do this now.” She shook her head in a defeated motion before she moved back to her computer and proceeded to shut it down.
Ryan had no words. Nothing, when he should be laying down promises and platitudes. Yet the contract they’d both signed didn’t need clarification. She understood the law and the terms of the agreement. What happened in the Boardroom was completely separate from the office. She should understand that without him needing to explain.
He bent over his computer, pointedly rejecting the notion of disappointment that tried to wedge its way into his chest. “I have a meeting first thing tomorrow, but I can meet you in here at nine,” he told her as he checked his calendar.
Her stunned stare caught him off guard when he glanced up. He lifted a brow. Was she going to refuse to work with him now? And there was nothing he could do or say if she did.
“I have a dentist appointment in the morning,” she finally said.
Regret snuck in to settle deep in the pit of his stomach. She was by far the best employee he’d worked with since joining the firm. He understood why Charles had laid exclusive claim to her almost as soon as she’d been hired. Her attention to detail and intuitive understanding of both the law and the information required to defend the case had been refreshing.
He straightened, debate clashing between calling her on the apparent lie or letting it go. She slipped her suit jacket on, scooped up her personal items and headed toward the door. He’d reserved the room indefinitely, so the files could remain in their organized stacks, but would she be back?
Her skirt swished softly in the silence that seemed to deepen the closer she got to the door. An errant thought hammered that he should be doing more to stop her. That he hadn’t secured her assurance of secrecy or any real understanding of their current professional footing.
Her hand was on the doorknob before he finally found his voice.
“Brighton.” Her name flowed out on the deeper tone he reserved for the Boardroom. He hadn’t consciously thought to use it, but there it was.
She froze, visibly tensing. Her scowl could’ve cut him if he’d had thinner skin. As it was, it left a grazing slash somewhere near that empty space in his chest. The burn warned of trouble he’d avoided his entire adult life.
“Yes?” The flat note left another cut that he dismissed. There were far deeper and worse ones that could be inflicted with a simple tone or selection of words.
The last glow of the sun cast soft shades of orange and pink into the room in a final battle against the harsh cast of the fluorescent lights. She was stunning even in her guarded anger—or was that disappointment? Her suit was tailored to accentuate every curve that shifted the basic black from sedate to alluring.
“Brie is safe with me.” Always. He shoved the truth out before he could check the statement against the long list of possible consequences. She deserved to know that bit and he wouldn’t keep it from her.
Her eyes fell closed in a slow descent that lasted through a long inhalation. They gave away nothing when she reopened them. “And what about Brighton?”
“She’s safe too.” Probably more than any person in the office, including himself. “I respect them both equally.” How could he not?
Her shoulders lifted with another deep intake of air. Did she believe him, or did she doubt everything he said? Did it matter?
For his career, yes.
For himself, no.
The lie ripped open to release the remnants of his father’s cackling laugh that he’d thought he’d banished long ago. It bounced around in his head, mocking him.
She left without another word. Her departure sucked the air from the room and took his volleying thoughts with it. There was nothing he could do about her or the knowledge she now had.
No, there was a lot he could do. There was nothing he was willing to do—yet.
The outer office echoed with the deserted emptiness that was his comfort zone. The lights would dim automatically before long, but hours remained before the cleaning crew appeared.
He pulled his chair in and sat back down. He blinked at his computer screen, mind blank.
Do you even have emotions? The accusation tossed out by his ex-wife had bounced off him back then. There’d been no need to respond when she’d already formed a conclusion. But now, he found himself pondering the question.
He snatched up a notepad littered with scribbled to-dos for the case and homed in on the top one. It was pointless to waste time or energy on anything else. And he had even more work to finish now that Brie was off his team.
Brighton.
Ms. Wakeford.
Brie was a part of his past, and after tonight, he’d be lucky if he ever caught a glimpse of her again.