Reveal (Wicked Ways #2)(20)

My chest burns, and I feel like I stumble aimlessly until I find a set of doors that lead to an outside terrace. It’s done in all stone with ivy climbing up the walls and a view of the city beyond, but all I can think of when the fresh air hits my lungs is that I can finally breathe.

With my hands braced on the railing in front of me, I close my eyes for a beat to collect myself.

And of course, when I do and finally look up, Ryker is standing beside me.

“Stop referring clients to me.” I say the words in a huff, and they’re nowhere near the things I want to say, but they fall out nonetheless.

Good, Vaughn. Fricking perfect.

“Okay.” He draws the word out and just stares at me with expectation in his stance and a plethora of emotions in his eyes.

“I don’t need your pity, and I sure as hell don’t want to owe you anything because you’re referring people my way. It might assuage your own guilt for doing what you did to me, but it doesn’t fix a single thing on my end.”

“I wasn’t aware that’s what I was doing.”

“Pretty damn obvious to me. Fifteen new clients calling out of the blue? All given my number by you? Really?”

“Giving business referrals to clients of mine is just that, a referral. It’s part of the reason you took me on in the first place. I won’t apologize for that.”

“Good.” I snap the word out, knowing I’m throwing the whole kitchen sink at him and that I just agreed with him when seconds before I was arguing the opposing side of it.

“Good,” he says, and I detest the amusement that laces his voice and ghosts in the curve of his smile.

I hate that I almost smile in response, that he can come out here and think he can charm me with his patience so that I forget what he did and how quickly he found another to take my place.

“You sure move on fast.”

He grits his teeth, and I can see him fighting back the urge to shake some sense into me. “She’s the president of the charity’s daughter.”

“Even better.”

“And a close family friend.”

“Oh, someone of the right social caliber, then. I’m sure you’ll be happy.” I have so many smart-ass things I could reply with, but I refrain because none of them will do a damn thing to make me feel any better.

“I missed you.”

“Couldn’t have missed me too much. You didn’t chase after me.” The last sentence is out before I can catch it, my own mind still hung up on five minutes ago—hell, on what happened in the Hamptons—when he did chase. When he did try to bang down my door only to be ignored. When he did come back to my house after that to speak to me. And of course, he did chase just now when I walked away.

But I don’t correct myself. Because even though he came to find me, even though he’s standing before me with hurt in his eyes, I’m more hurt. Instead, I just stand there and stare at him with my hands gripping my clutch while his singular look squeezes my heart.

“I didn’t chase?” He shakes his head. “Was this a test? Were you trying to see if I’d run after you so you’d believe I cared for you?”

Yes. No. I don’t know.

“Because I have chased you, Vaughn. I’ve chased when I’m a man who never chases, and you know what? Every time I do, you say no in some way or another. Did I fuck up? Yes. So it seems to me it doesn’t matter what I say or do. You’re going to hold it against me and ruin whatever it was we were working on defining between us.”

I’ve fallen in love with you, Vaughn.

His words from the other night repeat in my head, and I want to shut them out. They run a loop as he stares at me with puppy-dog eyes, and I wonder how the hell I’m supposed to know what to do next. Am I not forgiving him when I should be? Am I being too stubborn, someone others would dub a stupid female, like the ones I sometimes yell at in my old black-and-white movies? Or am I right in my thoughts and deserve more than this? More than him?

“What is it you want from me, Ryker?”

“You.”

“You did have me. My heart. My trust. Me.” I hold my hands out to my sides. “I think you’ve had a fair enough chance.”

I turn to walk away—back into the party because noise is better—but his hand is on my elbow.

“I already told you what happened. I can explain more if—”

“Empty explanations mean nothing. The damage was done the minute you thought it was okay to do it in the first place.”

“Christ, I fucked up.” He pounds a fist on the railing.

“Yeah. You used me.”

“You’re right. I did. I had a split second to make a decision about how to get that bastard to confess what he had on you. The choice was boys-will-be-boys versus making demands I knew he’d balk at. I chose the first. It was wrong. I fucked up in the worst imaginable way by doing so. I can’t change what I did, and I know I’d do it again in a heartbeat if I knew for a fact I could keep you safe. That I could get him to tell me whatever it is he has on you so you never had to worry about it again. So keep raking me over the fucking coals if it makes you feel better, Vaughn. Keep making me pay whatever price it is you feel I need to pay. Or just keep pushing me away because it’s easier to do that than to realize that you and I are fucking incredible together. Your choice.”