Chapter Twenty-Three

Carrie

Reid and I clear the hallway and he steps to my side, his hand catching my elbow, heat radiating up my arm with the touch. “This way,” he orders, the words low, but hard.

We round the bar and bring Nicholas Miller into view, a man I’ve met briefly through my father. He stands to greet us, his thick hair gray, his suit expensive, and his attention on me. “So good to see you, Carrie,” he greets, offering me his hand.

“Good to see you too,” I say. “And to deliver an update. As I’m sure you noticed, I was meeting with Elijah Woodson, doing my due diligence as Reid requested.”

“Yes,” he says, glancing at Reid. “Due diligence.” He looks at me again. “How did that go?”

“As Reid warned. Not well. He’s luring us in with money, but he has his eyes on a high-risk pet project that I suspect our competitors already passed on. Frankly, I doubt we would see any money but that which he’s allocated for the high-risk project.”

“This is disappointing,” he says. “I met with Elijah and he talked about a couple of high-rise Asia-based projects.”

“High-rise Asia-based projects are high-risk,” I say. “Believe me. You have to have every duck lined up, and not a feather missing, to ensure you don’t lose your ass to regulations, laws, and currency issues.”

“And yet Elijah is willing to take the risk.”

“Elijah only loses his money,” I reply. “We lose the money of those we convince to jump on board and invest, as well as our own money, and that of the stockholders. In the end, a failure would leave Elijah looking like a victim of our mishandling.”

“And since I have bad blood with Elijah,” Reid interjects, “he could spin his loss as some sort of personal punch from me, which damages my company and family as well. Frankly, I wouldn’t put it past him to pull out at the last minute and cause a default of the project that he’d pin on me.”

Nicholas arches a brow. “He hates you that much?”

“He does.”

“Even if there wasn’t something personal involved,” I add. “I’d never recommend we take this kind of risk while recovering from two bad hits. Not unless we’re trying to sink the ship. That’s my two cents, but I’ll leave you two to talk this out. I need to go finish up with Elijah.”

“Will this be presented to the board?” he asks.

“No,” Reid says. “An opportunity to go bankrupt will not be presented to the board.”

I try to step away and Reid catches my arm. “I’ll go with you. Goodnight, Nicholas.”

“Are you sure walking away from Elijah isn’t personal?” Nicholas asks.

“Money is always personal,” Reid says. “I don’t plan to lose mine. If you’d like to pitch losing yours to the board, feel free to formally request a meeting. Goodnight,” he repeats and turns us away from the table we never even sat down at.

“Why did he just ask if it’s personal?” I ask, softly. “You told him it was personal.”

“Elijah told him. He met with him before I arrived and told him we have bad blood in a play to get me unseated.”

“He really hates you.”

“Yes. He does.”

“And you thought I was a part of all of this,” I say. “So much for trust.”

“We’re going to talk trust tonight.”

I don’t have the opportunity to reply. We step to the edge of the table where Elijah waits on me. He stands and his focus is on Reid.

“Reid,” he states, and it’s not a greeting but rather disdain on his tongue.

“Revenge is not a game that you want to play with me or Carrie. Consider this a warning. Your only warning.” With that he snags my elbow again, turning me toward the door, my mind reeling. What went down between these two? We exit the restaurant and cross the lobby of the building, and I open my mouth to ask questions right as Reid softly warns, “Whatever you’re about to say. Save it for when we’re alone.”

“I can wait,” I assure him, and when I dare to meet his eyes, he’s quick to reply.

“Remember you said that. I sure as fuck will.”

He opens the door to the building for me and I exit to the street. I rotate to face him and he snags my hand, leading me toward a black sedan that I assume is a hired car. The heat radiating off our palms and up my arm momentarily stalls my brain, but once I’m in the back of the car with him sliding in beside me, realization hits me.

I face him while he addresses the driver. “Home,” he orders the man, and then looks at me. “This is not the place to talk.”

“If you were in a hired car,” I demand, “why didn’t you take my calls?”

“Your calls change nothing.”

“Have you listened to my messages?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“You obviously don’t understand ‘not the place.’”

I scoot closer to him, and grab his arm, leaning in to whisper. “I need you to listen to those messages.” I look up at him and say the word I’ve never said to this man. “Please.”

“Whatever you said won’t change what you did.”

“Then I might as well go home because we have nothing to talk about.” I scoot away from him and settle into the leather of the seat, aware now that we are already moving.

“On the contrary,” Reid says softly. “We have much to talk about and much left unfinished between us.”

I don’t reply. I’m angry. I’m hurt. I don’t know how I got into a place with this man that he can hurt me, but I did. And so we ride, side by side, tension radiating off of us. He grabs his phone and punches a button before pressing the cell to his ear. I don’t know if he’s listening to my messages. I tell myself I don’t care anymore. We are enemies. We always were or he wouldn’t assume my actions are those of an enemy. I sink deeper into my seat as well, the space between us feeling wide. He’s not touching me. He’s always touching me. I’m not sure what this says about where his head is right now. He finishes listening to the messages, whatever messages he’s listened to, and slides his phone into his jacket pocket.

He doesn’t speak and he doesn’t look at me.

And so, I continue to sit here, aware of him in every possible way, inside and out, in a way I have never been aware of another human being. I hate him. I want him. I’m furious with him. It’s a theme. I feel all these things every time we’re together. I try now though to set aside lust and anger and think about where his head might be right now. He was set up. From there, my thoughts chase every feeling he might be feeling and I come back to trust. He told me to trust him, but he wasn’t willing to do the same of me.

The car stops in front of a building that I now believe to be Reid’s apartment, where I’m not going with him. I open my door and he catches my wrist, following me out of the car. He pulls me to him and slams the car door shut. “Do not even think about running from me right now.”

“I don’t run. I walk away when it feels appropriate and that’s about control. Mine. Not yours. I’m walking away. That’s what feels appropriate.”

“You’re going upstairs to my apartment with me and if you think I won’t throw you over my damn shoulder and take you there, you’re wrong.”

“Why?” I challenge. “So you can fuck me and your anger out of your system?”

“Yes. That is exactly my plan. Now are you walking, or am I carrying you?”