43. SARA

“That was so much more fun than burpees,” I pant.

Chance nods. “Probably burned more calories, too.”

I look around his bedroom and see the clothes piled in random spots where they landed after we flung them when we got here. A night breeze is lifting the sheer curtains over the window next to the bed, helping to cool the aftermath of our passion.

He reaches an arm around me and pulls me close. We lay like that silently for a while. Tonight has been probably the most incredible night of my life.

So why can’t I get Quentin Pearce out of my head?

“Everything okay?” Chance asks.

I come this close to just saying yes before I stop myself. Not being honest with him was what led to me losing him all those years ago. Now I have a second chance. And no, the irony isn’t lost on me.

“There’s something I really should talk to you about,” I say gingerly. “But I don’t know how to do it.”

He sits up, eyes wide. I can read his mind in that gesture.

“I’m not pregnant, dummy.” I give him a playful smack as he exhales heavily.

“Okay,” he says. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, anything you have to tell me will be a piece of cake.”

“Even if it’s about Quentin?” I ask.

He sighs. “I suppose. Why, what’s up?”

“He called me yesterday demanding an update.”

“That’s fine,” he shrugs, lying down again. “Like I said, don’t worry about doing your job. I’m good with it.”

“I had to give him something, so I told him about the only thing I’ve found that might be a red flag.”

“What’s that?”

I take a deep breath. We’re wading into uncharted waters here.

“That there’s no real accounting of where the capital came from during Atlas’s expansion phase a few years ago.”

Chance’s body tenses next to mine. He’s silent long enough for me to start worrying.

“What did Pearce have to say about that?” he asks finally.

“He assumed it was an angel investor. But there’s no ownership equity that I can find. Unless it was one of the Sullivans, of course.”

Silence again.

“Chance, I don’t care what Pearce thinks. I know everything is aboveboard at Atlas. And if he has a problem with the truth, he can go fuck himself. I’m not going to make things up to help him steal your company, no matter how much he offers.”

He rolls over to face me. The intensity in his gaze gives me goosebumps. Please don’t tell me everything is going to come crashing down again over this. Please.

“Do you trust me, Sara?”

That’s not what I expected. “Of course,” I say.

“Thank you. That means a lot to me. Now I have to ask if I can trust you not to tell Pearce what I’m about to tell you.”

“Off the record,” I say, pretending to lock my lips with a key. “Journalism grad, remember?”

“I just don’t want to put you in a conflict of interest.”

I shake my head. “Like I said, the longer this goes on, the more I think Quentin Pearce’s interests can spin on my middle finger.”

I wasn’t trying to be funny, but Chance chuckles anyway.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he says. “Would you mind taking your phone out of your purse?”

I raise an eyebrow but do as I’m told and hand it to him.

“What are you doing?” I ask as he fiddles with it.

“Taking you off the grid.” His fingers emerge with the phone’s SIM card and place it on the nightstand. “You can’t be too careful with a guy like Pearce. I want to eliminate the possibility of eavesdropping.”

I wish I could say he was being paranoid, but after overhearing Quentin’s conversation at his office, I really can’t.

“Okay,” he says, looking me in the eye. “Here’s the truth: you’re right, the angel investor was one of the Sullivans. In fact, it was Sully himself.”

I snap my fingers. “I knew it! Pearce can suck it. But wait, where did he get the money?”

“That’s what we need to talk about. And it’s all as off the record as you can get.”