CHAPTER THIRTY
Rule No. 7: I’ll never make sense. Trying to understand me will be a waste of time. I’m broken and I don’t want to break you.
Do you feel secure now? Do you see how accessible you are while teasing me to come get you? I could have had you, Mia, but I prefer you to know when you’ve been caught.
Scanning my eyes over the handwritten words, over and over again, I had a mix of emotions battling inside me. Anger. Fear. Excitement. Need. Elation. It was a cyclone of confusion, a tidal wave of indecision, an elusive whispering suggestion that I had thoroughly lost my mind. I should have run this note to the police the second I opened it, but instead I sat on the side of my bed, silently wondering if this wasn’t the moment that Donovan had been leading me to all along.
Dropping the note on the table, I showered while considering how I could finally prove Donovan was my stalker. No ideas had come to me while the heat of the water poured over my head. But while drying my hair, while getting dressed and carefully applying my makeup, the answer to the puzzle came to me so suddenly it was like a freight train slamming through my thoughts, knocking aside all the frustration I’d felt.
I had a sample of his handwriting, all I needed was another sample that I watched him write so that I could bring it home and compare.
Glancing one last time at the note where it sat open on my bedside table, I admired the masculine script, the perfect loops, the tight angles, the flourish that portrayed a practiced hand.
I didn’t run to my car that morning, instead I walked, enjoying the streaming sunlight that broke through the ever-present clouds. I smiled at people who passed me. I held my chin up with pride.
While driving to work, I didn’t worry that I would be fired. Jackson, I was sure, was hoping that Donovan would march me out the door immediately upon my arrival, but I was beginning to believe that doing so would destroy all Donovan’s carefully constructed plans. Perhaps, it was Donovan’s intent to fire me once the game was through, but I’d been smart over the last few weeks, putting away the extra salary he’d given me in my raise, saving instead of spending so that I would have a cushion should I lose my job.
Assuming I could still run to Trevor, I convinced myself that regardless of what happened, I wouldn’t be forced to leave to city to return home to a father who would smile to know I’d failed.
After parking, I strutted my stuff to the office, ascended the stairs and walked through the door with exactly thirty seconds to spare. As usual, the tablet sat in the middle of the reception desk. Typing out my message, I watched the seconds tick down and hit the send button exactly at eight.
I’m here.
A minute passed, then a second minute. A third, and then, Damn. I have nothing to criticize you about.
Smiling to myself, I flicked a glance up at his hidden cameras, wherever they were. I’ve learned how to play the game, Donovan. May I please get to work now?
Satisfied with my not-so-hidden reference to the Dark Realities game we’d been playing, I smiled again. I was getting as good as him at running this stupid maze.
It took three seconds for his response. We need to talk.
Yes. Yes, we did need to talk and I also needed to come up with a plan to convince him to handwrite a note for me so that I could compare the writing to my stalker’s when I returned home. You’re right. We do. Will you-
Before I could finish typing, the door opened, a beautiful man with bruised eyes walking through. Donovan leaned against the wood, his gaze shadowed and his hair messy, as if he’d been running his hands through it all night. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night, like he’d been up watching another person sleep.
“You look like hell,” I teased, even if the words were sadly true.
Rather than reacting, Donovan inclined his head toward the back office. By the weak set of his shoulders and the heaviness of his eyelids, I could tell he’d gotten little rest the night before.
Without saying another word, I stepped past him through the door, not looking at him again until I was seated in front of his desk and he settled in the chair behind it.
When he didn’t sign immediately, I prodded the conversation along. “What would you like to talk about?”
Us. You. Your job here.
“Am I fired?”
His lips pulled into a line, the skin wrinkling between his tired eyes. No, he answered, shaking his head as he turned to stare out his window.
I hated the silence, was scraped raw by the apprehension of his lengthy pause. This is the moment when most people drop the hammer, when the word ‘but’ is uttered and followed by some equally heartbreaking decision.
“But?”
Turning to me, he locked his eyes to mine. But I think you should go work in the main building. I have a small marketing department, and there is an opening for you.
He wanted to send me away. To a building he never visits, and to a place where I would be out of sight. I didn’t understand how this fit in with the game, with the chase, with everything he’d done up to this point. Why trap me only to send me to a place where I would be free? And then it hit me: Jackson. He hated the idea of Donovan and me. He hated having to constantly babysit his friend in order to prevent the destruction of Stone Industries. And in that hatred, he was doing everything humanly possible to keep Donovan trapped in his cage, to prevent him from moving beyond the tragedy that had changed his life.
Perhaps now that I’d figured out the game, now that I’d called Donovan out in my messages from last night, Donovan had determined that I was no longer a useful player, and had succumbed to Jackson’s demands that I be sent away.
“This is because of Jackson, isn’t it? What did he say to you? Why are you listening to him when all he wants to do is keep you chained?”
The resentment in my voice echoed off the walls with a strength I was just now learning I had. Confrontation had never been easy for me, but in the past few weeks, I was becoming less fearful of it. Searching Donovan’s face, I found surprise and confusion, regret and utter exhaustion. But he didn’t respond immediately, his face pulling into the blank mask he used so well to close his thoughts off from the world and lock himself behind walls that prevented anybody from reaching him.
I wouldn’t let that happen. Not now. Now when I knew he was reaching out to me in other ways, even if they were less than honorable.
Brows pulling together, Donovan leaned back in his chair and studied me right back. But still, he didn’t answer, and his silence was beginning to piss me off. “Tell me!”
Flinching in response to my demand, he answered, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Jackson has nothing to do with this. It was always the plan to let you take over the marketing department. I only gave you this job to see how dedicated you are. Filing is beneath you. You have too much education, too much experience to be a simple clerk.
Laughter bubbled out of me, most of it brought on by the insanity that comes with lack of sleep. “I’m an Administrative Assistant. Your assistant. Not just some clerk that files papers.”
Donovan’s expression softened. I don’t need a full time assistant, Mia. I never have. I can hire someone part time now that you’ve cleaned up the mess in this office. Don’t you want this? I thought you’d be happy.
“No, I’m not happy. Because I don’t think this has always been the plan. I think this has everything to do with what happened between us yesterday. And I also think you’re doing this to run away from your feelings for me.”
Standing from my seat, I planted my hands on Donovan’s desk, leaning over so that I was dangerously close to being directly in his face. His brow arched in that arrogant way of his, but I ignored it. He wouldn’t close himself off from me. Wouldn’t run me through whatever bullshit maze he’d created and then toss me aside like I meant nothing. I knew this was Jackson’s idea, knew that the man who claimed to be Donovan’s friend was doing everything in his power to handicap Donovan and prevent him from moving forward.
“Tell me you feel nothing for me. If you can tell me that with sincerity behind those blue eyes of yours, then maybe I’ll believe you.”
He wouldn’t be able to say it while staring me in the face, not with what I knew, not with what he knew I knew. Why expend the energy on all the games he’d played if letting me go had been the planned end result? It made no sense. Not that Donovan Stone ever made sense. But still, I couldn’t see a man as focused as him wasting time on a useless endeavor. There had to be an end game I wasn’t seeing, a result he was aiming for that was far out of my grasp.
What I feel for you has nothing to do with the decision I’m making.
Another bark of laughter burst from my lips. “Really? Because you’ve been doing everything you can to be close to me. Your games are tiring, Mr. Stone, and you know as well as me that it’s time to end them.”
Brows pulling together, Donovan did an excellent job of appearing as if he had no clue what I was talking about. But he also did an awesome job hiding the fact that he was the man behind Dark Realities, which meant nothing he said or did could be believed. I was going on instinct at this point, tossing logic out the window because my heart was involved. I wanted this man. Wanted him more than I’d ever wanted another person. And for that reason, I could foolishly forgive him for the games he’d played, but I’d be damned to just let him gather his toys and slink away from the playground.
In a way, this man’s ridiculous games helped tear me away from my timid shell, and now it was my turn to tear down the walls he’d constructed around himself after watching his fiancé die.
What games are you talking about? I’m not playing any games.
“Really?” My eyebrows shot so far up my head, they’d most likely disappeared beneath my hair line. “You were the one to lay down rules, Donovan. And you have been the one who’s been making my life a living hell just so you could be close to me while hiding who you are. If you don’t think of those as games, then-“
He shot out of his chair. Taking a position that mirrored mine, he was practically nose to nose with me as he leaned over his desk, anger rolling behind his blue eyes that made me want to close that small amount of distance to kiss it away entirely. It irritated me to no end that in this ten minute meeting, he’d already knocked me off course. Where I’d wanted to sneakily prove that he was the man behind Dark Realities, he’d skillfully turned this meeting into a stand off, two broken people learning what it meant to finally come out and admit they were ready to be fixed.
I’d laid my cards on the table. Now, it was his turn.
Swallowing down the desire I had to kiss him, I challenged him instead. “Tell me you don’t feel this, Donovan. Tell me you really want to see me go. Because if that’s what you want, then I’ll leave. Entirely. I won’t work in your marketing department. I won’t stay in the city where you can continue watching me. I won’t play your games anymore just because you can’t get over your own bullshit to be a normal human being. And I certainly won’t prance around and make demands just so you can sit back and pat yourself on the back for helping me become a stronger person. I won’t give you that.”
Seconds felt like hours as we both stared at each other silently. And just when I thought he would tell me to leave, that he would close himself off and lock himself behind the same frustrating walls he’d always used to hide, a sigh rolled over his lips as he pushed away from his desk and gave up.
I never meant for it to go this far. I never intended to fall for you. I don’t know what to do.
He was scared. That much was obvious. But unlike the woman I’d been when he first interviewed me, I wasn’t scared any longer. Donovan might not have known what to do, but I did.
Pushing away from the desk, I rounded the side of it, shoved his chair out of the way and stood toe to toe with my boss - the man I wanted, the man who had been my stalker all along. And rather than continuing the tiresome games he’d hidden behind since the moment we met, Donovan was going to come clean, once and for all.
“I know you care for me. I know you want to break out of your shell and move on from what happened in your past.”
The skin between his eyes wrinkled, his gaze darting to that damn picture before meeting mine again.
“Yes,” I answered the silent question. “I know about that. And yes, I did break your stupid rules by digging into your past, but I consider that a minor invasion into your life in comparison to how you’ve invaded mine.”
Stepping even closer, our breath collided, our lips so dangerously close that a fire could have erupted between us and it wouldn’t have been hotter than the combination of our body heat, the infusion of our souls as we stared at the reason both of our lives had been flipped upside down. My breath caught at the force of it, my brain deciphering and dedicating to memory every vulnerability that flashed across his expression.
Donovan had seen me at my most vulnerable. The son of a bitch had stood over me as I slept. It was about time I saw him at his most vulnerable.
“I want you,” I admitted on a whispered voice, my words colliding against his skin, my mouth inching closer to his. “And you want me. So instead of worrying about what you should or shouldn’t do, why don’t you just forget about all the stupid games and kiss me?”
Heat flashed behind his eyes, edged by indecision. Prodding him had worked in the other game. I’d sent the message that had him sneaking into my bedroom once again. Perhaps, prodding him with the same challenge now would finally end this bullshit standoff, so that both of us could move forward.
“I mean it, Donovan. I’m not scared.”
With lungs struggling for breath, with a mind racing over everything that had brought us to this point, and with a heart that was a drum beneath my ribs, I issued my challenge.
“Come and get me.”