MIRANDA

I didn’t tell Dylan I loved him back last night.

How could I when I’m keeping so many secrets from him?

And of course, him being him, he didn’t press me or even look upset when I didn’t say it back. He just kissed me and held me tight all night, then woke up early and cooked me breakfast in bed.

I push my chair away from my desk and look out the window. My office isn’t huge but I have a good view. I stand up and stretch my legs as I look out on the city.

I’m sore and my eyes close in shame remembering exactly why. What was I thinking going to Dylan’s office like that last night?

Was I trying to test him? To see if he was like his brother?

I rub my temples.

Dylan’s nothing like Darren. I knew it the second he touched me in the alley. I realized how stupid I was to have ever second-guessed him so then I decided to just be with him, to live out the fantasy like we always did.

But then he ordered me on my knees. Just like his brother had earlier that day.

It was too much, too soon.

Not that Dylan could have known. Not that I had any business being there, doing anything like that when I was still so emotionally fucked up from the afternoon.

And God, the horror on Dylan’s face when he thought he’d hurt me.

I’ve never hated myself more than I did in that moment.

That I could make him think that for a second—

I just wanted to run away. To break up with him because I’m toxic. Couldn’t he see that? The fact that I sought him out at all after what happened with Darren is so fucked up.

And if he ever finds out my connection to Bryce, it will only hurt him. I should never have sought him out in the first place.

And God, if Darren releases that video.

I’ll ruin him.

One way or another.

I’m going to ruin this beautiful man.

And I was still too selfish to break up with him. I told myself I would when we got back to his apartment. But then he held me and the next second, made such sweet love to me.

Even now, I’m justifying it. Because, after all, Darren might still release the tape even if I did break up with Dylan. He didn’t ask me to break up with Dylan. He asked me to get Dylan to reconsider the contract with ProDynamics.

Underneath, I know it’s just selfishness. I can’t bear to lose him. Not yet. Getting lost in his arms last night was everything I needed. More than I ever expected or ever hoped for myself. I never even knew anything like that kind of passion and connection existed.

I love you.

I flop back down in my chair, running his words over in my head for the millionth time. He loves me.

But would he still love me if he knew the truth? The whole truth about how I let Bryce whore me out? About how Dylan himself had been one of the men who had used me, along with his own horrible brother?

Thoughts of Darren only make my stomach sour. Dylan has no clue that he’s in business with a viper. Another secret. But is the only way to protect Dylan really to betray him by pushing him into doing what his brother wants? To lie to him and manipulate him?

If I push it hard enough and make it obvious enough what I’m doing, maybe Dylan will want to break up with me. Maybe I can make it look like that was why I pursued him in the first place. All so I could secure the contract for my company.

Maybe he’ll get disgusted with me and make the break I can’t. Then he’d be free from my taint.

God, even the thought sends my heartbeat racing in terror. A life without Dylan?

I haven’t known him long and I might never be able to admit it to him, but God, of course I love him. When you meet the other half of yourself, you’re a fool if you don’t hold onto them as hard as humanly possible.

Meeting him has been like… like coming home. That’s the only way I can describe it.

So there’s only one way forward.

I can’t lose him. No matter what.

I breathe out and reach for my phone and type out a quick text, then hit send before I can second guess myself:

Swamped today but missing you. Think you could come by the office to have lunch with me at my desk?

His response was almost instantaneous: I’ll bring Chinese takeout from that place you love.

I’m a wreck for the rest of the morning, barely getting anything done other than answering a few emails. Every few seconds, I glance back at the clock. Naturally, it’s moving at an agonizingly slow pace.

A couple of weeks ago my boss himself came by my office. He said he’d heard that I was dating a Lennox brother.

“You know bids are still out for their new robotics line. Whoever gets that contract will be secure for the next decade. So maybe you could smooth the way or put in a good word for ProDyn—”

“Absolutely not.” I was so vehement and righteous in my indignation. “I do not mix my work and personal life and I won’t apologize for it.”

“I’m sorry,” Rod backpedaled, lifting his hands, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to try to put you in an awkward position. Forget I said anything.”

I heard what he was really saying. Don’t mention him trying to pressure me to Dylan. The last thing Rod wanted was a negative impression of ProDynamics making its way back to Dylan either. I just lifted my chin. “Like I said, I keep my work and personal lives completely separate.”

He nodded and ducked out of my office without another word and that was that.

And now here I am. It only took a Darren sized wind to swing my moral compass so far from north I hardly recognize myself as I wait for Dylan to arrive.

It’s finally half past twelve and I can’t stop my toe from tapping nervously on the carpet underneath my desk. It’s a terrible nervous habit of mine. Thank God the office is carpet, not tile. With the carpet, no one can hear the tapping, and from the waist up, I can usually manage to look completely composed no matter what’s thrown my way.

Of course, the stakes have never been so high.

Right on time, I hear a knock at my office door. I shoot to my feet even as I call out, “Come in.”

Dylan pushes open the door with a wide smile, holding the bag of Chinese takeout like a proud delivery boy.

In spite of everything, seeing him brings a genuine smile to my face. I don’t know how to describe it exactly, but Dylan’s very presence makes me relax. He just exudes this energy of masculine protection that makes me want to kick off my heels and run the few feet to him, then throw myself in his arms.

If only I could confess everything to him.

But God, what would Darren do if I did? Dylan obviously has no clue what kind of man his brother is. For them to have both gotten to this age without Dylan the wiser, Darren must be one slick bastard.

Just the thought sends shivers down my spine.

So I don’t throw myself into Dylan’s arms. Instead I just smile and gesture at my desk. “Lay out our feast. I’m starving.”

Dylan’s smile dims for a moment like he senses there’s something off with me but he comes over to the desk and starts pulling boxes out of the bag, along with chopsticks.

Okay, here comes the bit of acting I’ve been prepping for all morning.

I pick up my laptop and move it over to the edge of my desk and then start shuffling the papers I had spread out.

They’re blueprints and test output reports of our newest processor with my scribbled handmade notes in the margins of all the papers. Something I did only so it’d seem believable for me to have actual printed out papers on my desk instead of just on my laptop.

But now I’m embarrassed about how blatant my ploy to gain his interest is. And I have to stop myself from cringing when he asks, “What’s that you’re working on there?”

Shit.

He’s taking the bait.

You need this. He needs this, even if he doesn’t know it. Darren will ruin him if you can’t convince him to take the deal.

I continue stacking the papers. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

He snatches one before I can add it to the stack. “The ProX8 Processor.”

“Hey,” I grab playfully for the paper. “That’s proprietary information.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’ve already seen all the specs when your boss put in his bid a month ago and sent over a prototype for us to test.”

“Yeah,” I say. “But if you were interested, we would have heard by now. And it’s fine, we have other contracts.”

I snatch the paper out of his fingers, right as a furrow scrunches his brow.

“You guys put in a bid with Pantheon?” He doesn’t even try to hide his disapproval in his voice, referring to the collaboration proposal sheet I just snatched out of his hand. “Their laptops are shit. It’ll make your company look bad when their machines malfunction. You’ll be tied to them in people’s minds.”

I shrug. “We know their motherboards don’t have the best reputation but they’ve assured us they’ve improved quality control in the last few years.” When his expression doesn’t change, I sigh. “You know how hard it is to get contracts in this day and age. Intel cornered the market and companies like yours are exploring other solutions. We have to take what we can get.”

“But this is your central product line you’re talking about,” Dylan argues.

“It’ll be fine. We’ll request some further quality control measures as part of the contract.”

But Dylan’s just shaking his head. Vehemently. “Miranda, I’ve seen their factories. A lot of our workers in Thailand come from Pantheon factories and the conditions are terrible. They’re little more than sweatshops. Their safety standards are shit, they don’t treat their workers well, and their products come out half-assed. You can’t accept a deal with them.”

I frown down at the desk.

This is exactly the reaction I was hoping to get from him but now that I am… Is this how easy it was for Bryce every time he manipulated people? Manipulated me until he had me exactly where he wanted me caught up in his spider’s web until I thought I had no way out?

Dylan runs his hands through his hair. “I really thought the RISC chips were the way to go but every time I turn around, we run into one problem after another with them. This weekend was just more of the same.”

I feel my eyebrows pop up at this.

“Maybe as much as I want them to work, Darren’s right, the tech just isn’t there and we should try again in a few years with the launch after this one. We’re running out of time to start getting our line in production. We have to figure out the processor situation.”

Darren.

I frown. Is it really a problem with the RISC chips themselves or is Darren doing something to sabotage the experiments? Would he do that, just to get his way?

I think of him standing over me in the dining room, that smug, superior smile on his face.

Yes, yes he absolutely would.

But Dylan is still talking.

“And it’s not that the ProDynamic processors were bad. I had engineers run tests with every processor that came in with the bids and the Pro processors performed among the best, and the price was right.” He sighs. “I just really wanted the RISC chips to work.”

He pauses, looking out the window. “But maybe it’s time we took another look at—”

“Come on,” I cut him off, offering a half-hearted smile, pushing a box of General Tso’s his way. “Eat it while it’s hot.”

I open up my sweet and sour chicken and shove a huge bite in my mouth. I can sense that it’s delicious but it tastes like sandpaper. My appetite is completely gone.

“Miranda?” When I look up, Dylan’s watching me with a hawklike gaze. I shiver underneath it. “Is something wrong?”

“What?” I try to laugh it off as I choke down my mouthful of food. “Of course not.” I shove another large piece of sweet and sour chicken into my mouth.

I can’t answer pointed questions with my mouth stuffed, can I?

For a few blissful minutes, it’s silent, the both of us eating.

But I can feel Dylan’s eyes on me. Does he see my guilt written on my face? In the slump of my shoulders? Written in a scarlet letter across my forehead?

Jesus, I barely had to do a thing. He was talking himself into doing exactly what I wanted. Well, what Darren wanted. God, I feel sick. Shoving food down my throat is not helping, either.

“Enough,” Dylan says, slamming his food down on the desk after several more silent minutes have passed.

“What?” I jump at the sudden action.

He yanks the box of chicken out of my hands and throws it back into the bag, along with his and the other few containers on the desk. Then he stands up and walks around to me.

“What are you—”

He doesn’t answer, he simply lifts me up off the chair and bends me over my own desk. He gives my ass a sharp smack before yanking my skirt up.

I gasp at the rough treatment. But at the same time, when he reaches underneath my underwear to probe at my entrance with a finger, I’m already slick with wanting him.

He strokes me up and down between my lips and finally slips his forefinger inside my sex. All the while he strums at my clit with his thumb, and I’m putty in his hands.

I hear the telltale jingle of his buckle unbuckling and then oh God, oh yes, I feel the head of his cock at my entrance.

He bends over my back and then thrusts inside. I bite my lip and groan as I grip the edge of the desk, loving the invasion. Loving him.

In minutes, I’m on the edge. I clench around him as hard as I can, reveling in the feel of his intrusion as he slides in and out.

It’s difficult but I muffle my whimpers, biting my own hand to stifle the pleasure that wants to scream out of my throat.

So close. It’s right there. I swivel my hips and press back against Dylan with his every thrust. Almost there— Just one more—

Dylan drops his hand around to strum my clit and oh— It starts to hit. But then, wha—

Dylan stops.

Everything.

Just.

Stops.

I whimper and look over my shoulder. Dylan’s face is serious as the grave.

He leans over and breathes kisses over my temple. My entire body shudders, tremors of the waiting orgasm still teasing me.

“It seems like the only way I can get complete honesty from you is when I have you like this. With my cock buried inside you.”

He shifts, pulling out and then shoving to the hilt again and I stifle a groan.

“Now tell me what’s wrong and why you clammed up earlier when I was looking at the blueprints. And don’t you dare try to lie or hide shit from me.”

I can’t help the tear that crests and then falls down my cheek.

Of course he could see I was lying. I can’t keep anything from him. He’ll see through my bullshit every time.

But I have to protect him.

That’s what love means, no matter the sacrifice to him.

So I tell him as much of the truth as I can.

“If Pro got the contract with Lennox Brothers, it would solve so many problems,” I confess, my voice watery. “But I hate the thought, hate it,” I whisper vehemently, “that you would think I would ever use this relationship to get ahead at work.”

I reach back and grab his face. “I swear,” I look him in the eyes, “I would never do that. Never use you just so I could get ahead. You’re everything to me.” I press my forehead to his. “Everything. You’re my everything.”

He pulls back and then surges inside me again. And again and again.

“Jesus fuck, I love you,” he whispers harshly before his lips crash down on mine and my orgasm finally crashes over the edge into a blinding white light.