Chapter 15

When the doorbell sounded, Tyson was bench-pressing way more than he should have been on his own.

It was a cardinal rule not to lift heavy weights without someone there to watch your back, and usually, Tyson had some buddies who’d come over to his building’s gym and they’d work out together.

But these past three days, he’d wanted no one’s company save his own. Fuck, he didn't particularly want his own company.

Using his own free weights was the only thing stopping him from going insane where Birdie was concerned.

Something had happened. Something horrible for her to leave him like that. To just abandon her case and take an earlier flight back to Seattle without even leaving him a message.

He’d have excused it as business, but one, she would have told him, and they’d have caught an earlier flight together. And two, she’d just left her bag, then fled the hotel according to the receptionist who’d seen her run off and take a taxi.

She wasn’t answering his calls or his messages, and Birdie wasn’t like that.

It all pointed to something hurting her, but for the life of him, he couldn’t think what, and Jesus, he hadn’t done anything.

She’d been fine in the suite. Absolutely fine. Had been her usual jokey, playful self.

What the fuck had gone wrong?

The pain was blindsiding him. Hitting him out of nowhere, making the tear of his muscles as he worked out seem like nothing in comparison to the agony in his heart.

He'd never felt like this before, and he supposed that was only fitting. Birdie was one-of-a-kind, after all.

The doorbell buzzed again, and he grimaced, realizing he’d managed to zone it out as he pumped the weight into the air.

Carefully lowering it, and managing not to kill himself in the process, he realized he was lifting far too heavily when he made the final maneuver - getting the bar over his fool head.

He was panting and out of breath when he heard a voice from the door. “Tyson Andrews! I know you’re in there. You get your damn butt out here this instant. I want to talk to you! Now!”

Tyson blinked. “Em?” he hollered, then rushed over to the door. When he pulled it open, she stood there, arms folded across her chest, tip of her toe tapping against the ground impatiently, and a narrowed look aimed his way.

“What did you do to Birdie?”

Her first remark had his mouth dropping open.

“I didn’t do anything!” he immediately defended himself, both his arms swiping up into the air in complete exasperated confusion.

“Bull. According to that bitch of an ex of yours, you were fucking her to seal the deal between Grafix and Hedonist Central. Is that true?”

Tyson gaped at her. “Karen? What the fuck does she have to do with anything?”

“I’m less interested in that and more interested in my question,” Emily snarled.

He propped his hands on his hips and yelled, “No, I did not fuck her to seal the goddamn deal. Fuck, what kind of man do you take me for?”

“One that calls me a dyke and Bernadette a fat bitch to his girlfriend?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Before she could answer, he shook his head then stepped away from the door. “Come in.”

“I’m not sure I want to. Not yet,” Emily retorted.

“You came here for a reason, Em. Don’t be difficult,” he said on a soft, irritated sigh. "Plus, I really want to know what's going on. Why isn't she taking my calls?" If anyone would know it would be her. He'd taken to calling her, but she been ignoring him as well.

Emily being here was a gift from God. One he wasn't about to waste.

She pursed her lips, but with her nose propped in the air, scooted into his apartment.

Her gaze took in the pretty elegant pad, and her brows rose. “You’re doing well for yourself.”

“Not as well as Birdie and you, but I’m managing,” he said wryly. The rent on his apartment alone was six thousand dollars a month… he certainly wasn’t living on the poverty line. “You’re saying Karen spoke to Bernadette? When?”

“When she was in the coffee shop after she’d left you packing. The woman confronted her.”

“Jesus Christ, she’s more insane than I took her for.” He ran a hand through his sweaty hair and scrubbed at his scalp. “I should never have dated her.”

“Hey, I’m into chicks too. Crazy pussy can be hot, but they’re not dating material,” Emily chided him like he was a fool, and that had his cheeks flushing a little with embarrassment.

“Look, whatever Karen said, it was bullshit. Surely Birdie knows that?”

Emily shrugged, managing to look neat and precise in her trouser suit. Irony was, she was his type. From her slenderness, to the elegant suits he’d seen her in twice now…

And yet, she wasn’t Bridie.

Without her ripe curves, her generous form, her warmth…

No one was like Birdie.

He gnawed at his lip as the thought staggered him. It was a wonder he stayed upright.

Leaning against one of the pillars that sectioned off the kitchen from the living room, he watched as she strode into the center of the room and carried on tapping her heel.

“Take a seat if you want,” he offered, feeling confused and, though he was loathe to admit it, vulnerable.

Seeing Em here gave him hope. And hope was a dangerous thing.

Sighing, he watched as she unbent enough to perch her butt on the low black glass coffee table.

“What are you doing here, Em?” he asked softly. Needing her to get to the heart of the matter.

“I’m here because Birdie’s heart’s broken, and I don’t believe everything that Karen had to say.”

He scowled. “Why does she then?”

“Because Karen said you called me a dyke and her a fat bitch. That lent credence to everything else she had to say.”

“I never called either of you anything like that,” he immediately denied, then, scouring his memory banks, “Maybe once I mentioned I had a gay friend back at school. But that’s it. I never went into any details. I sure as shit would never have said anything like that. Firstly, I didn't know if you were gay or not. Sure, I had my suspicions. But nothing concrete. And Birdie is. Not. Fucking. Fat! Jesus, she never was. Why the hell would I say that when I never thought it in the first place?”

Emily shrugged. “Still, it’s a pretty specific lie. You have to admit, Ty, you can see why Bernadette is so shaken up about this.”

“It is, you’re right.” He rubbed his chin. “I’ll look into it.” Like he’d meant to look into how Karen had found out where he was, which hotel he was staying at, and the room he was in too.…

Someone at work had obviously been feeding her tidbits.

The thought had fury rushing through him. He wasn’t sure who it was aimed at. Himself? Or Karen?

But though he'd intended to look into how Karen had found out all that information, his interest had paled in comparison to what was going on with Birdie. Nothing mattered, he realized. Nothing but her.

How had he been so blind?

“I can’t believe she’d think I was only sleeping with her for the deal we were discussing with my work,” he bit off hoarsely, shaking his head. “We weren’t even talking about it all that much. If anyone brought it up after that first day, it was her. I lost interest a long while ago. I only wanted to reconnect with her.”

Emily studied him a while, seeming to test his earnestness and monitor how credible it was.

He must have passed the test because she pursed her lips. “So, what are you going to do to get her back?”

His mouth opened then closed. “I have no idea,” he stated blankly, taken aback at her words. She believed him. That belief had him shuddering with relief. “Would you get me into the office? Your security keeps tossing me out.”

She grimaced. “She’s given counter orders that can’t be cancelled.”

He blinked, astonished at Birdie’s behavior. It was obviously a testament to how badly he’d hurt her. And fuck, he hadn’t done anything. Was it possible that she felt as intensely as he did about her? That her feelings were strong?

Rubbing his temple to dispel the ache gathering there, he murmured, “Why are you willing to help? You do believe me, right?”

She shrugged. “I’m helping because Birdie has pined for you for a long time. She was lit up like a star when you were in the office with us. It was wonderful to see… For so long, she’s been so focused on the business. Unable to think of anything or anyone else, and I’m worried about her. She’s going to burn out soon if she isn’t careful, and I saw and heard on the phone a side of her that’s been lost ever since Grafix went public.” She shrugged her shoulders again. “I’m just nervous for her sake. I think you could be good for her if you aren’t fucking her over for money, that is.”

He pursed his lips, disappointed that she hadn't said outright if she believed him or not. “I earn enough to live comfortably, Em. I’m not chasing her for her goddamn money. Jesus Christ, I know it’s a long time since we’ve known each other properly but you know I’m not like that.”

“People change, but no, I don’t think you’re like that.” Emily sighed, leaned her elbows on her knees. “I think you’re going to have to catch her on her way out of Grafix.”

His eyes narrowed with interest. “You mean on her way to her car?”

“She gets driven most places, now. Has a security team and everything.”

He blinked at her. “You’re not serious?”

“She’s a very wealthy woman, Ty,” Em scoffed. “Surely you realized she’d have protection.”

“But… the hotel? Nobody was there? I never saw anyone watching over her.”

“They were there. They’re always there,” came her smooth retort.

Astonished and aghast, and now realizing why Bernadette had been so hesitant for him to touch her intimately in a public place, he wanted to smack himself for not realizing she’d have a security detail, maybe several, assigned to her.

Jesus, he’d been around rich business people long enough to know they needed security just as much as teeny bopper stars and actors and actresses. It had been dumb of him to think otherwise where she was concerned. Yet, Birdie didn't act like she was crazy rich. It was easy for the Bernadette of old and the Bernadette of new to merge and confuse him.

Running another hand through his very disheveled hair, he asked, “You call me when she’s on her way out, and I’ll be there.”

She studied him a second, the glance somber. “Don’t hurt her, Ty. I will make you pay if you do.”

The look Emily sent him was dark, and it quelled some of his natural exuberance over having the chance to explain the situation to Birdie.

When they’d been in front of the fire and she’d mentioned she would sign on with Hedonist Central, he should have said, then and there, that business was only secondary to the relationship that was forming between them again.

Hell, lower than fifth.

He hadn’t thought about work once when they’d finally been together like a couple.

Work, targets, commission… it all meant jack.

“Don’t hurt her,” Emily said again, this time softer. Less dangerously and more pained, like Birdie’s pain was her pain. And who knew? The women were so close, maybe that was possible.

With a sigh, he promised, “It was never my intention to ever hurt her. Em, I haven’t even done anything wrong. If anyone’s hurt anyone, she’s hurt me. She should have given me a chance to explain, dammit.”

Em conceded that with a nod. “I told her to talk to you, but you have to understand, when anything but business is concerned… Birdie’s like the girl you knew back at school.

“Lacking in self-esteem and confidence. It’s just how she is.”

His nostrils flared. “I intend to rectify that.”

Her smile was slow. “Good.”