Chapter 11 #2
He told me the truth in that storage room. Every word of it. He tried to stop it. He wrote formal objections. He flagged the ethical concerns. He specifically mentioned protecting Leena’s clinic.
And that board member Xavier buried it.
Okay, breathe.
You need to breathe.
I’m not breathing.
I keep reading. There’s another email where Corin responds with increasing urgency, arguing that the delay will give Diana time to cover her tracks. That Leena and the other partners will be collateral damage. That they have a fiduciary duty that supersedes reputation management.
Xavier shuts him down again. Threatens to remove him from his own company if he pushes further.
And then silence.
Because three days later, the scandal broke exactly how Corin predicted it would. Diana had shifted the narrative. Leena’s name was dragged through the press. And Corin couldn’t defend himself without breaching confidentiality and violating his fiduciary duties to the fund’s investors.
Holy shit.
He wasn’t just telling me what I wanted to hear. This is documented evidence. The kind that would hold up in any court. Timestamped, archived, sealed by Xavier himself.
But... what do I even do with this?
I could pretend I never saw it. Shove it back in the filing cabinet, finish organizing the rest of the files, go back to my villa and pack my bags. Two days left. I could just run out the clock.
That would be the smart thing.
The safe thing.
But when have I ever done the safe thing when it comes to Corin Saelinger?
“Hey,” Corin says from the doorway, and I jump.
I immediately set the printouts on the desk.
Try not to look too guilty or anything.
“You’ve been in here awhile,” he continues. “Everything okay?”
I don’t answer immediately. Finally I slide the printouts across the desk toward him. “You told me the truth.”
Corin goes completely still. “What?” His voice is careful.
I tap the papers. “During the storm. When you told me. I believed you at the time. Mostly. But there was this tiny part of me that wondered if maybe you were just telling me what I wanted to hear. Making yourself look better so I’d sleep with you again.”
Way to sound professional.
He flinches. “Amara—”
“But this.” I gesture at the printouts. “It’s proof. You tried to stop it. Multiple times.”
He picks up the top page, and I watch his jaw tighten as he reads his own words from five years ago.
“Where did you find these?” He doesn’t sound angry. Just weary.
“Filing cabinet on the right. Archived board minutes.” I cross my arms, then uncross them because it makes me look defensive.
Corin sets the papers down carefully, like they might explode.
“I’d forgotten these were here.” When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper.
“You know, I’ve spent the last five years convinced I was complicit.
That I enabled Diana’s fraud by not pushing harder.
That Leena’s destroyed reputation was my fault.
That losing you was exactly what I deserved. ”
My throat feels tight. “It wasn’t your fault.”
He’s close enough now that I can smell his scent. Leather and sea-salt and that faint cedar smoke that clings to his clothes.
My body remembers what we did in his study.
The way he lifted me against the wall.
The way he made me come apart with his hands and mouth and everything else.
Focus.
This is important.
“So what now?” he asks. “What changes?”
I consider that. “I already forgave you when you told me four weeks ago. So. Nothing, I guess?”
“Nothing? And us?” He gestures vaguely between us. “The contract ends in two days. You were planning to leave.”
How does he know that?
“I was considering it,” I admit. “Seemed like the smart move. Professional boundaries and all that.”
His jaw tightens. “Right. Professional boundaries.”
Is that regret in his voice? Well, can’t let myself read too much into it.
Not when he’s the one who drew those boundaries in the first place.
Not when he looked at me post-orgasm and said ‘we can’t do this again’ like I was a mistake he needed to correct.
“I figured after the contract ends,” I continue. “I’d head back to Manhattan and we’d both move on with our lives. Clean break.”
“That’s what you want?” His voice is rough now. “A clean break?”
What I want?
God, what a loaded question.
What I want is for him to tell me that he was an idiot that night. That pushing me away was the stupidest thing he’s ever done. That professional ethics be damned, he wants me and he’s willing to figure out how to make it work.
But I’m not about to hand him my heart just so he can reject it again with another speech about ethics violations and power dynamics.
“I want...” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “I want to know if that night in your study was you genuinely worried about professional boundaries, or if it was you looking for an excuse to put distance between us.”
He goes very still. “You think I wanted distance?”
“You literally told me we couldn’t do it again five minutes after finishing inside me,” I point out. “So yeah. That’s kind of the vibe I got.”
“Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Amara, that wasn’t—I was trying to do the right thing. You’re my employee. Your work—”
“Ends in two days,” I interrupt. “So if it was really just about professional boundaries, then it won’t be a problem anymore. Will it?”
He meets my eyes, and I see hope there, mixed with fear.
“No,” he says quietly. “It won’t be a problem anymore.”
“Then I’ll think about it,” I tell him, even though my heart is already making decisions my brain hasn’t approved yet.
He almost smiles. “Fair enough.”
“But Corin?” I pause at the doorway. “Next time you want to push me away, just say so. Don’t hide behind professional ethics and make me guess whether you actually want me or not.”
And then I leave before he can see how much this conversation has undone me.
Always have to get the last word in, don’t you, Amara.
Outside the windows, the sun is low in the sky. Late afternoon stretching toward evening. I walk through the main clinic in a daze, barely registering Marisol’s cheerful goodbye.
In the parking area, I see a figure leaning against the building. One of Corin’s security team. Thorne, maybe? Or Keon? I can never tell them apart when they’re just standing there halfway across the lot like that.
He nods slightly as I pass. I nod back.
I open the door to my rental car.
Two days.