CHAPTER NINETEEN
Brooke
When I opened the door, I suddenly knew what Jack meant when he said, “Be prepared.”
And I was anything but.
I’d done a lot of stupid things in my life, but I’d never hated myself as much as I did when I opened the door to my apartment and saw Cameron standing there.
To say it was a surprise was an understatement. I’d quietly sneaked out of headquarters, feeling miserable as Cameron and his campaign workers scurried around like mice with their tails cut off. I was planning on getting my gym stuff together for a sparring workout, since I really, really needed to punch something.
After giving the documents to Kiera, I honestly thought she’d hold on to them for me, that she would have waited until I was better prepared. But it was her father, after all. Could I really blame her for passing the vital information on? And did I subconsciously know she would?
I was so hurt. So confused.
I almost hadn’t gone in to work today. I thought I’d at least have a couple days to decide what to do, but nope. Shit had hit the fan. Maybe a twisted part of me had wanted to keep going through my normal day-to-day charade, knowing his world would soon crumble around him. Of course, once the shit did hit, I’d expected Violet to fade quietly into the background as he struggled to pick up the pieces.
But when the shit went flying, it flew everywhere, covering everything in its vicinity, and I could do nothing but stare mutely as he stood in front of me.
Smart as he was, I’d known that he’d eventually put two and two together, and try to confront me. I’d thought by then, I’d be in Quantico, training for my new career.
I hadn’t expected him to show up at my doorstep the very same day.
And the worst part was, despite having just received a near fatal blow to his political career, a career he’d been bred for all his life, there was no hate on his face. No anger.
Just overwhelming disappointment.
So I did the first thing that I could think of. I tried to the slam the door in his face.
He blocked it, though, with his fist and forearm, shoving it open with incredible force. I backed away, afraid of what he might do. No, Cameron had been bred for refinement, and he knew control. I knew he wouldn’t hit me, but he was a man with a silver tongue, who knew how to inspire or wound with words. Before he’d started to speak, I’d already begun to steel myself for a lashing that would sting worse than any physical force could.
Don’t feel guilty, I reminded myself. This man was sleeping with you while shopping for engagement rings with his girlfriend.
I thrust my chin into the air and affected indifference as he strode into the room and stopped an arm’s length away from me. “So?” I said coldly, crossing my arms. “Say what you’re going to say, and leave.”
“I thought you would have something to say to me.” He crossed his arms, waiting.
The more he stared at me, the more my stone façade began to chip away. “Like what? What do you want me to say?”
He let out a bitter laugh. “Well, why don’t you start from the beginning. When we met, it wasn’t by chance, was it? You knew who I was all along?”
His hands were clenched into fists, but he was doing his best to maintain that classic Brice composure. He had every right to hate me. He’d hid behind that mask, and for weeks, I’d pretended I had no idea who he was. I’d sat at his headquarters, pretending to be a good little worker, meanwhile conspiring to destroy him. I hated him for proposing to Bernadette, but he hadn’t wanted to rip me to shreds, the way I’d done to him.
Now, I felt myself crumbling. I nodded slowly.
“Geez, Cassandra,” he said, running his hands through his hair and pacing away from me. He turned, his eyes trained on the floor. I could tell he was processing every little lie I’d told him, and the enormity of my deception had just begun to dawn on him. “I mean. Wow. You’re responsible for this campaign finance fiasco?”
I opened my mouth, feeling fully defeated. The only words I could think of, I’m sorry, didn’t seem like enough.
“So let me ask you this,” he said finally, glancing up at me. My heart nearly stopped when his eyes, so cold, like two arrows, hit their mark. “Who sent you? Someone was paying you, right?”
I suppose I should have hidden Owen’s involvement, but at that moment, I couldn’t think straight. All I could do was think that in my jealousy over his choosing Bernadette, I’d gone and slammed the door on any possibility of “us.” If there’d ever been a chance, however minuscule, that he might’ve recognized he couldn’t live without me and come knocking on my door, I’d destroyed it. Now, my heart really was being ripped apart. This was worse than learning he’d chosen her. A thousand times worse. Holding the tears back, I said, “Owen Blakely. He’s my best friend’s father.”
A strange, sardonic smile spread across his face. “Your best friend’s father,” he repeated, letting the words sink in. “Well, that’s just perfect. And here, I told my father that I didn’t want to put an investigator on him because I wanted a fair fight.”
My breath hitched. He had?
It was too late to save myself. I knew that. But it didn’t stop me from trying. “I’ve always wanted to work for the FBI, but it’s nearly impossible without experience. He told me that if I did this, he’d personally recommend me—”
I stopped when he laughed bitterly at my poor excuse to justify all my terrible sins against him. He stalked over to a wall and stared at it. When he spoke, it was to the wall, as if I wasn’t worth looking at. “I’m laughing because the funny thing about this is, my father’s old friends with the head of the FBI. I could have put in a call too. And I wouldn’t have asked you to fuck someone over first.”
“No, I just had to fuck you.”
He turned around suddenly, his eyes narrow. “That’s bullshit. You didn’t have to do anything. I’d do it for Violet too. I’d do it for anyone.” He exhaled a long breath. “Jesus, Cassandra, or Brooke, or whoever you are. Is that what you think of me? Do you really think I’m that much of an asshole?”
I shook my head. “No, no, I—”
“So you’re on Owen’s payroll too. Was sleeping with me part of the job? Really? Were you just going through the motions, fucking me all those times, hoping I’d let something slip that you could take to Owen?”
“No,” I said fervently. “I didn’t expect to — I never meant to — I didn’t think it would go as far as it did.”
“And when it did?”
“By that time I was already in love with you. And I told myself I would never hurt you. And then you... you told me about Bernadette, and I—”
“Bernadette?” He closed his eyes, and let out a sigh of complete devastation. It was like a dagger in the heart, the way he so easily dismissed my profession of love. Maybe he would have cared, once, but it was clear my feelings didn’t matter anymore. “You’re going to bring her up now?”
I stared at him, feeling so hollow and lost that I needed to lean against the sofa to keep myself erect. My voice was small, and I had no pride left. No stake in this for either side, except my own now. “Out of curiosity, you have no reaction to what I just said? I love you, Cameron.”
He looked at me like I was infected, deranged. “Really? I don’t know what to believe anymore, considering so much of it was a lie.”
“No. It’s the truth. I know you were only with me a handful of times. And I know I didn’t tell you anything about myself, so you didn’t get a chance to know who I really am. But in the meantime, I was with you nearly every day, and I got to know you. And… I did fall in love with you. I know you’re marrying Bernadette because of some sense of duty to your father, but she doesn’t deserve you. She doesn’t, and I don’t. But I do love you, Cameron.”
He let out a bitter, short laugh. “What do you expect me to say now? That I love you too? After what you did?” His composure was tight and rigid, almost forced. “The ironic thing about that is when I came back here after last weekend, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I thought there was no way I could go through with it. I was going to tell my father to go fuck himself, and…”
My heart was already in my throat. He was? But he paused there, as if he had no idea what he would have done. Certainly not be with me. That was impossible, even before he’d learned who I was.
“Like you always said, it doesn’t matter.” Then he shook his head slowly, and his eyes trailed back to the floor. “Congratulations, Cassandra. Blakely should give you a raise. You destroyed me. Completely and utterly.”
I nodded, and the tears that had been stinging my eyes started to overflow. “For what it’s worth, Cameron, I am sorry, and you don’t deserve what I did to you.”
Apparently, my apology wasn’t worth very much to him anymore because he looked around my shabby apartment as if seeing its contents for the first time. My family photographs on the walls, my shelves of books, my favorite afghan tossed over the back of my comfy couch, and so much more. It was everything he once so desperately wanted to know about me, right there in front of him. But then he shook his head sadly, threw open the door, and stepped outside. “And one more thing, Cassandra,” he said, without a glance at me. “I do know you. I think I know you pretty well, now. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
And he left.
I sank into the nearest chair and buried my face in my hands. I knew that I’d never find what I was looking for. Because everything inside me screamed that it had just walked out that door.