MISCHA DIDN’T KNOW where to point his focus. Each time he tried to puzzle through an issue, it faceplanted into the concrete wall in his head. He didn’t see a solution for work. For Ash. For—

Fuck, he was making himself dizzier than a poorly executed 360.

He cut through the house, toward the deck, loosening his tie as he walked. He stepped outside, and closed the sliding glass door behind him. The moon was bright enough it cast the concrete of the empty pool in a pale glow.

He stripped off his jacket and tie and draped them over the back of a deck chair, before sitting at the edge of the pool, to dangle his legs over empty air. If he stepped back from everything and looked at with fresh eyes, would he see the solution?

No problem was impossible to solve. Even the Gordian Knot had a solution. Cut it in half with a sword. Maybe Ash had a point—he needed a way to spite Ralph Wolfram.

It sounded so petty when he put words to it. Definitely not business-like. Not that the older man had afforded him a large list of professional courtesies, but Mischa couldn’t wrap his head around tossing away that kind of relationship.

He’d done it before, though. With DM. Found that loop in the contract to break away. This wasn’t the same. It was a loan with a term and the property was collateral. He didn’t pay the bill on time, he lost the goods.

He bit the side of his fist to muffle a shout of frustration.

A warm breeze blew through the night. If he weren’t concerned about noise complaints, he’d board. Feel the wind rush around him in a way only riding could do.

He needed to examine an issue that had a more straightforward solution.

But the one other thing—person—he was fixated on, was Ash. She was an enigma. When things were good, they just clicked. But when she pulled away, it gave him whiplash, to the point he wondered if the good times were her going along with things because it was easiest.

No. He didn’t believe that. There might be cases when she tried not to make waves, but she tended to wear her heart on her sleeve.

If she was going to withdraw every time her past reared its head, though...

He scrubbed his face, not having any idea how that thought ended. It wasn’t like he was prepared to lay down an ultimatum.

The moon moved several inches in the sky while he sat there, letting the problems-with-bad-answers chase each other in circles in his head.

He heard the slide of the door behind him, open then closed. There was no sound after, but it was Ash. It had to be. He didn’t turn. Had no idea what he would say or how he’d react.

“We need to talk.” Her voice was almost as soft as her inaudible footsteps.

Those words no one wanted to hear, in any context. He wasn’t in the mood for melodramatics or drawing things out. “Is that actually what we’re going to do, or will this be tossing words back and forth, with neither of willing to change our mind?”

“I guess that depends on you.”

He gripped the pool edge until his fingers ached. “So, that’s a no from you?”

“It’s not.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t come out here to argue. I do want to talk it through. I don’t see it ending the way I hope—or you do—but I’d rather talk through it than butt heads.”

He didn’t have to ask where this was going. The previous conversation was enough hint for him to know she was going to try and put an end to them. He wanted to not care, but it hurt. Possibly more now they’d opened to door for the relationship becoming real, but either way, it would gnaw at him. “Will you let me talk you out of it?”

“Probably not, but I’m not completely ruling it out.”

Might as well get it over with. Mischa glanced over his shoulder to meet her gaze, then patted the concrete next to him. She sat, keeping enough distance between them he couldn’t feel her, and stared at the empty pool.

“Talk to me,” he said.

“If we break up, are you going to fire me?”

Disappointment jabbed his chest. Expecting her to take things in this direction didn’t make it any easier to hear. “The job and engagement are two different things. I don’t fire people who do good work. So no, if you’re looking for the direct answer.”

“And would you give us a couple of weeks to find a new place?” Her voice cracked, and she paused. “Just through a paycheck or two.”

This didn’t make any sense. If she was upset by the idea, and he didn’t care for it either, why was it on the table? He didn’t care for her hypotheticals or that this had yet to sound like he had a choice. “If this is because of tonight, or Ralph—”

“It is. That’s not all it’s about, but those were catalysts.” She kicked her feet as she talked, watching them instead of him. “You’ve been sweet to put on this show with me, but it’s just a show. It exists for specific purpose, and if it makes things worse for you, it doesn’t serve its purpose.”

The temperature was dropping as the night dragged on, biting through the thin fabric of his shirt. He didn’t care. At least she’d opted to change into sweats and a long-sleeved shirt. He wanted to smack himself for being worried about her being cold, in the middle of them breaking up, but of course he was concerned.

“You’re talking about our relationship like it’s a step ladder.” Exhaustion leaked into his words. “But this isn’t something you get to fold up and trade in for a new one because you can’t reach that top shelf.”

“You do if that’s why you got it in the first place.” Her tone was quiet, but lacked nuance. He couldn’t tell if she was sad. Happy. Angry. If he was forced to guess, she wasn’t feeling. But that wasn’t true. Or she’d look at him.

“What about Saturday? You said you were as interested as me, in trying to see if there’s more between us. Now that doesn’t matter, because of some country club ladies gossiping like petty high school kids?”

“It’s the kind of gossip that could cost you your business. And I’m not ignoring what you and I talked about, I’m...” She sighed.

He waited for her to finish the thought. When she didn’t, he said, “You’re what?”

She glanced sideways, finally meeting his gaze from under her lashes. “I’m questioning your sincerity.”

“Excuse me?” Not what he expected at all, and the simple statement gnawed at his senses.

“I like you. I like spending time with you. Hell, I trust you. I don’t trust anyone except Kelly.” Now there was sadness in her tone. A faint kind of despair that added another layer to the weight pressing in around him.

“So what’s the problem? Take Ralph out of the equation. This is just about you and me.”

She shifted to tuck one leg under the other knee, and face him. “But it’s not just about us. Because since you’ve found out who I was, since I told you the story about growing up, you’ve treated me differently. Not just then, though. When I broke my arm. When I lost the apartment. Your attitude toward me shifts a little more each time.”

“Because we’re getting to know each other. That’s part of a relationship.”

“No.” She shook her head. “The kind of relationship I want is more of an equal partnership. I don’t want to be coddled or sheltered or placed on a shelf like a fragile, delicate China doll.”

“You’re projecting. And possibly listening to Victoria more than you should.”

Ash pursed her lips and raised her brows and stared at him for several second. “At least you’re not above telling me I’m just imagining it.”

That wasn’t what he meant to do. “I’m sorry you see it that way. Any of it.” His voice didn’t hold the apology he wanted it too.

“Speaking of Victoria, do you know what she said to me tonight?”

“Not a clue.” And he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“She told me she didn’t care what those people thought, she was there for their donations.”

That sounded like Victoria. “And?”

“If I wasn’t there tonight, would you have stayed longer?”

“It’s not that simple.” No matter his answer, he was fucked. A yes proved her point, and she’d see no for the lie it was.

Her thin-lipped smile said she knew it. “You asked me to remove everyone else from the equation earlier.”

“And you didn’t.”

“But I told you why not. I didn’t avoid your question.”

He’d give her the answer she wanted, as much as he hated proving her point, because it was the truth. “I left for you.” Because she hid in the bathroom for half an hour. Because she was obviously bothered by the evening. Because he wasn’t an asshole. “I would have done that for anyone.”

He wanted to smack himself the moment the words were out. Way to stick the nail in the coffin and drive it in.

She twisted her mouth. “Exactly. But if you’d rather not look at it that way, if there’s any chance our splitting up will give you an edge to get out from under my dad’s thumb—”

“You know he won’t actually extend my contract if we’re not engaged anymore, right?” Mischa didn’t want to do this attack on two fronts, because then he couldn’t fight it. If she thought he was sheltering her for whatever reason, that was an entirely different conversation from what to do about the business.

“I know his associates will take you more seriously if you’re not with me.”

“They didn’t before. It doesn’t matter what that man drilled into your head. You’re not responsible for everything you come in contact with, if it goes bad.”

“Pot, meet Kettle,” she said. “You’re not responsible for saving me. From... I don’t know what you think I need protecting from. Dad? I can deal with him.”

“Can you?” That was the wrong answer, but none of the reasonable ones had worked.

“That’s not fair.”

Because any of this was fair? Not a great bar for measuring life by. “What do I need to say to convince you I’m interested in you? Not saving you. Not sheltering you. But that I’m interested in making us work?”

“What do I have to say to convince you I’m not?”

The question hit him like a punch to the gut. That wasn’t congenial, lets-talk-this-through conversation. “In other words, when you said you were hoping I’d talk you out of this, you didn’t mean it.”

“I’m not yours to save.”

That was getting old. He stood and brushed off his slacks, then offered her a hand up. He ignored any heat that flowed between them at the contact, and tugged her to her feet. Mischa tugged her close enough their noses almost touched. He needed to know he had Ash’s full attention. “You’re right. You’re not. I’m not in the savior business, and if you think that’s all this is, we’re better off apart.”

With her right here, it was easy to see the red rimming her eyes. The firm set of her jaw that might be to hold things inside as much as out of stubbornness. He told himself he didn’t care. He was happy to listen. To work things through. But he was done playing stupid games and treating life like a yo-yo.

And he didn’t seek the highs and lows of those emotional rollercoasters anymore.

Her chin quivered and her nostrils flared, but she held his gaze. “Then it’s settled. We’re done.”

“It definitely is.” He let go of her and turned toward the house, forcing himself to feel the satisfaction of being the one to walk away. He refused to dive into the same hole he did after Victoria. Even if this was nothing like that. Even if he ached and shook and was furious at how things were ending. Even if the thought of losing Ash gnawed through him from the inside out.

He’d recover, and until he did, he just had to spill concrete through his veins, and move on.