Samson
I move down the hall deliberately, the way I’ve been trained to move since I was old enough to understand what it meant to be watched.
Because I am being watched. Always. I learned that a long time ago. Doesn’t mean I’ll do what I’m supposed to or what I’ve been told to, but I’m still being watched.
It’s brisk outside, and I welcome it. I need something that doesn’t feel like her because I can still feel her everywhere. On my hands. On my mouth. In the space between my ribs where things don’t usually land.
That’s the problem.
Not what happened. Hell, I fuck women all the time. That’s nothing new.
What’s sticking in my craw is that I don’t feel like I chose this. I wanted her. Still do. But that was hardly the first time I’ve wanted a woman and chose not to take her because it’s not good for the long term.
I know damned well Delaney Cross isn’t good for me in the long term.
I took her anyway. It happened. I let the wrong head do the thinking. Exactly what Nate warned me about.
That’s unacceptable.
I cross the street without looking, still unable to get her out of my mind.
Her hands.
Her voice.
Then show me.
I should have walked away.
I didn’t.
But it didn’t change anything.
She’s a problem, but the situation is still manageable.
I open the door and get in. For a moment, I just sit there, hands on the wheel, eyes forward.
I feel…unsettled.
I don’t like unsettled.
Unsettled leads to mistakes.
Mistakes are never an option.
I start the engine and drive to Vexley House.
Nate is already there when I walk into the office.
Of course he is.
He’s standing by the window, jacket on, tie perfect. He doesn’t turn when I enter.
I move past him, set my keys down, pour a drink I don’t need or want.
He speaks without looking at me. “You crossed the line.”
I take a sip. Let it burn. Like I said, I’m always being watched.
“I handled it.”
He turns, his green eyes sharp. “No,” he says. “You didn’t.”
I set the glass down. “I did.”
His jaw clenches. “I told you she was a weakness.”
“Say it again and I’ll put my fist through your face.”
Nate shakes his head. “Dad trained you well. He trained us all well. You’re the oldest, and he made sure you were the strongest. I don’t doubt you could slam me through a wall, but you’re forgetting that Dad gave me a purpose in this family as well.”
He doesn’t have to say more. “She’s contained.”
“Is she?”
I don’t answer. He watches me. That’s the problem with Nate. He doesn’t push harder. That’s my job.
His job is to wait. To negotiate. To turn black into white with mere words.
And he’s damned good at it.
“Did she demand any answers?” he finally asks.
“Yes.”
“And?”
I meet his gaze. “She didn’t get any.”
“She won’t stop,” he says. “Not unless we stop her.”
I don’t respond.
He steps closer now, closing the space between us. “She’s not supposed to matter to you.”
“She doesn’t,” I say.
But the words, though I want them to be true, sit like acid on my tongue.
Nate stares at me for a good minute before he speaks again. Then, “You keep telling yourself that.”
My muscles tense but I don’t move. Don’t react. I step past him. It’s time to end this conversation before it becomes something else.
Before he pushes further.
Before I give him more than I already have.
“It’s handled,” I say.
“For now.”
I pause at the door but don’t turn back toward him. If I do, he’ll see it.
Whatever this is between Delaney and me, Nate will see it. He can read people better than anyone I know, and though I’ve learned over the years to hide everything from him, this—this thing that I don’t quite understand—is stronger than I ever imagined it could be.
I leave the office and walk into the hall.
And for the first time since I stepped into Delaney’s apartment…
Since I put my hands on her…
Since I let this go further than it should have…
I allow the thought to land fully.
I didn’t handle it.
I lost control with her.
And that is exactly how all of this starts to go wrong.