Say You Still Love Me(64)

Dad offered me sad smiles and calm hugs, and kept telling me that I was beautiful and smart, and that hooligan didn’t deserve a Calloway.

My teeth are clenched so tight that my jaw begins to ache. I should have known.

Do I confront my father now, though? Or should I wait until he recognizes Kyle and blows up, sends him packing?

Kismet or not, coming to this building was a ballsy move on Kyle’s part, given the risk.

Is he just stupid? Or does he think the risk is worth the potential reward? And what is that reward, exactly? Is it working with me again? A friendship with me?

Or more?

My stomach flutters.

Kyle is single.

He moved here, in part, because he wants to be in my life again.

And the only reason he ever left in the first place is because of my father.

Three truths I need to decide what the hell I’m going to do with.




“You want me to help you poach Jack’s assistant?” I glare at David in disbelief as we ride the elevator down to the lobby. I was almost successful in ducking out without notice, until David came barreling out of the restroom and crossed my path.

“She doesn’t want to work for that stooge,” he argues. “She basically told me as much.”

“No, she did not.” Cheryl is the minutes taker for the Monthly Women’s Network meetings I lead at CG and a sweet, single thirty-eight-year-old mom who I suspect is in love with her boss—our CFO, and a married man. Then again, maybe that’s why she’d want to move desks—unrequited love is unenjoyable, but especially so when you have to face it day in, day out.

“Just ask her, would ya?” David pleads.

“Why me?”

“Because, I can’t! Obviously. Jack would kill me. And you’re . . . you! And a woman, and, I don’t know . . .” He throws his hands up in the air, as if giving up. “It’s what you women do!”

I roll my eyes as the elevator door opens. “See you tomorrow, David.”

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“Home.”

He checks his watch. “It’s only three!”

“I have a headache,” I lie, and am saved from further conversation as the elevator doors close, carrying my personal pain-in-the-ass back upstairs. The truth is, I’m going home to curl up under my covers and ponder this morning’s revelations. I’m going home to hide from life, and from my father before he gets back from LA this afternoon, until I decide how best to address his deep betrayal.

“You’re off early for a change,” Gus notes as I push through the security gate, my laptop bag strap already digging into my shoulder.

“Long day.” I steal a glance at Kyle, who’s occupied with a phone call, his free arm settled across his chest, making his bicep bulge. He was lean when I knew him, but far from scrawny. Now, though . . . what would it feel like to smooth my hands over his sculpted body like I used to do?

Kyle is available, that voice in the back of my mind reminds me, and with it brings that familiar flutter in my stomach.

“Nothing like that’s been delivered yet, ma’am,” I hear him say politely, his golden gaze settling on me. “Sure thing. I’ll keep an eye out for that cookie platter . . .” His lips curl into a smile and, for the first time in years, I see it actually reaching his eyes. Reminding me just how much I always loved feeling his smiles on me. “No, I’ll make sure Gus doesn’t eat any of them this time.”

“What’s she goin’ on about! I’ve never stolen anyone’s cookies!” Gus sputters, but it’s followed up with a sheepish grin. “I may have sampled one or two.” He winks at me before his brown eyes shift behind me. “Good to see you again, sir. Hope your trip was successful. Where were you this time?”

“Chicago, to look at an investment property,” comes my dad’s gruff response.

He wasn’t supposed to be back for another hour.

And I thought he was in LA?

My heart begins pounding in my chest as I smooth my expression and turn to meet my father’s stern face.

Is it true? Did you pay Kyle to break my heart?

I’ve always known that there is this hard, controlling side to him. I’ve just been fortunate enough to avoid its wrath. Or so I thought.

“Piper?” He frowns curiously. “You okay?”

I force a smile. I guess this confrontation is happening now after all. Because Kyle is standing right there. The boy he paid off is only a few feet away.

I brace myself, waiting for him to look at Kyle, waiting for those harsh features to scowl with recognition when it clicks.

Dad checks his watch. “You meeting someone?”

“No. Headache.” My blood is racing with the anticipation of what’s to come. What will I do? How will I react?

“Hmmm . . .” His brow furrows. “Go home and get some rest, then.”

“Yeah. That’s the plan.”

He cocks his head curiously at me, but then, as if deciding something, turns his attention away.

To Kyle.

His eyes narrow, and I hold my breath, preparing myself to intervene before my father causes a scene in our building’s lobby.

“There’s a panhandler near the east entrance. I’m assuming you can’t see him on the security feed and that’s why you haven’t done anything about it?”