Tough Enough (Tall, Dark, and Dangerous, #2)(72)

I frown. I had forgotten about the incident with Ronnie. He most definitely knew my secret, saw my scars firsthand. And as much as I would love to refute the accuracy of what Rogan is saying, I can’t.

Even in my tiny little world inside the studio, I’ve heard the rumors floating around about Ronnie’s fascination with Victoria. If he knew how she felt about me, maybe he gave her some dirt to get in her good graces.

“I’m sure neither of us rank high on his list of favorite people,” Rogan adds, watching me with hopeful eyes. “Please, Katie. You have to believe me. I would never, never do something like that to you.”

Like he’s been able to do from the day we met, I feel Rogan softening me, taking the edge off my anger, soothing my hurt. Breaking down my defenses. But it’s no matter. The fact remains that he can’t be trusted. His associations prove that.

“Fine. I’ll give you that one, but what about Senator Sims? And Calvin? How could I ever trust someone who’s in league with men like that?”

Sadness steals over Rogan’s handsome face and stabs at my heart. “They’re just business associates, Katie. Nothing more. I had no way of knowing what they’d done to you.”

“But you can understand why I can’t have anything to do with them. Nothing. At all. Ever. Right?”

Rogan gazes intently at me. His silence might be more painful than anything else. Something tells me that this is the one thing he can’t explain away. Can’t fix. Can’t or won’t.

He looks defeated.

“Yes, I completely understand. And as much as I hate them both for what they did to you . . .” I see his jaw flex as he looks away from me, like he’s resisting murderous impulses. “As much as I’d like to tear them both limb from limb, there’s nothing I can do about it. They’re . . . I can’t . . . There’s just nothing I can do.”

Suddenly I feel desperate, desperate for him to explain it away in terms that won’t rip me apart. But I’m terrified that he won’t. “But why? What are they to you?”

“They’re . . . well, Senator Sims is my benefactor.”

I guess, when it boils down to it, I was secretly hoping that Rogan would be able to explain away his association with the two most awful men that I know. Part of me even expected that he might chase me down in Enchantment and explain it all away and we could pick up where we left off. But reality isn’t like a romance novel. Sometimes there isn’t a happy ending to be had. Sometimes things just don’t work out.

“So this is about money? You’d keep people like that close to you for money? Knowing, now, what they did to me?”

I’m incredulous. I’m confused. I’m devastated.

“It’s not about the money.”

“Then what is it about?”

Reaching out to take my clasped hands in his, Rogan closes his eyes and drops his forehead onto them. “Katie, please. You just have to trust me.”

You have to trust me.

That’s not an answer. Not a denial. Not an explanation. Not a promise or a platitude. Because it’s the truth. He can’t even deny it. He has no quick excuse or story to tell. So he’s hedging. The fact of the matter is Rogan has a price. A literal price. And nothing is worth more to him. Not even me.

“Trust you? Trust you? How can I trust you? I feel like I don’t even know you.”

There is a physical tightening of everything from my sternum to my navel. It feels as though an excruciating weight is bearing down on me and I’m struggling to resist. My muscles tremble with the effort not to be crushed.

I just want to fold over, to curl into myself and vanish. How could I be so wrong about someone?

You were about Calvin. Now it’s happening again.

Rogan releases my hands and leans into me, cupping my cheeks. I feel the tears that I can’t hold back stream from the corners of my eyes to pour over his fingers. His expression is urgent, determined. Desperate.

But he’s an actor. To be fooled would make me foolish.

“Katie, you know me. You know me. Better than probably anyone in my life, you know me. Please just trust me. One more time. I promise you I’m not like them. If there was anything I could do, any other way . . .”

I reach up to wind my fingers around his wrists and tug them away from my face. “There’s always another way. You just have to want to find it.”

Rogan drops his hands and leans back before running his fingers through his short hair, sending it shooting out in twenty different directions. “Katie, please! You have to believe me. Can’t you just . . . Rrrrah!” With that growl of frustration, Rogan straightens and turns away from me, lacing his fingers behind his neck as he paces. When he swivels back to me, he just looks . . . beaten. “I know you want me to fix this, but I can’t. I wish there was something I could do, but there’s not. This is beyond my control. Please, just give me the benefit of the doubt. At least give me some time to figure something out. Please.”

I take a deep breath and bolster myself against the desire to crawl into a corner and die. I gave my heart away and this is what it’s come to.

I’m resigned. The least I can do at this point is try to retain some amount of dignity. I stand to my feet, legs shaky, knees wobbly, and I pray for strength before I speak. “It won’t matter, Rogan. We’re just too different. We were kidding ourselves to think otherwise. Go back to your people. And I’ll go back to mine. All I ask is that you stay away from me. If you respect me or ever cared anything about me, you’ll do this one thing for me. Please.”