Chapter 9
Remy
It’s been seventy-two hours since Montana. Seventy-two hours since I woke up in Enzo’s arms and had to pretend it meant nothing. Seventy-two hours of avoiding eye contact and keeping my distance and trying not to think about how his thumb traced circles on my hand in his sleep.
The problem is, I’m not only thinking about Enzo. I catch myself staring at Ansel’s hands during meetings, wondering what they’d feel like on my skin. I watch Breck smile and want to know what’s real when he stops performing. I want to kiss him hard enough that he forgets to be anyone but himself.
The triplets are each pulling me in different directions, and I don’t know how much longer I can pretend I’m not affected.
Probably not much longer.
I’m three steps from my office when Damon appears in the hallway, blocking my path.
“I want to talk to you.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
My hand tightens on my coffee mug. “I’m busy. You know, doing the job you told everyone I couldn’t handle.”
I don’t miss his subtle eye roll. “This won’t take long.” He steps closer, lowering his voice. “You remember that little side project you did in college? The one where you accessed university financial records without authorization?”
My blood runs cold. I shared this with him when we were together, a vulnerable moment in bed when I thought I’d found someone I could trust with my secrets. “That was five years ago. I was exposing fraud.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He leans against the wall, casual. “What matters is that it’s still technically illegal. Computer Fraud and Abuse Act, remember? The same law we’re using against the guy who breached our systems.”
I force myself to meet his eyes. “What do you want?”
“I want you gone.” His mask slips, and I see the ugliness underneath. “Quit. Walk away. Tell them it’s not a good fit or whatever bullshit excuse you want to use. But leave.”
“Or what? You’ll report something that happened when I was twenty-one?” I cross my arms. “While you’re at it, tell the investigators about the time I jaywalked in college. Really round out the criminal profile.”
He pushes off the wall. “One anonymous tip to the right people, and suddenly, the triplets’ star employee is under investigation. Do you think they’ll keep you around during that mess? Do you think they’ll trust you?”
Heat floods through me—anger, fear, and humiliation all at once. “You’re bluffing.”
Please be bluffing, I silently hope.
“Try me.” He takes another step closer, and I hate that I back up. “You’ve got until Friday to resign. Otherwise, I make some calls.”
“Is there a problem here?” Ansel interrupts.
I didn’t hear him approach, but suddenly, he’s there, and I don’t know whether to be scared or relieved.
Damon straightens, smile returning. “Just catching up with Remy. We were just finishing up.”
“Good.” Ansel doesn’t look at me, but his hand settles on the small of my back. “Remy, I need those Montana debrief notes. My office?”
It’s not a question. It seems that nothing with Ansel ever is.
“Of course.” My hands are shaking, and I grip my coffee mug tighter to ensure I don’t spill it.
Ansel guides me past Damon with a hand that’s both gentle and possessive. I don’t look back, but I feel Damon’s stare boring into my spine.
I try to find any trace of the person I fell for. The Damon who brought me soup when I was sick. The man who remembered my mom’s birthday without being reminded, and who stayed on the phone with me for three hours when my dad’s diagnosis came back, so that I wouldn’t have to cry alone.
That Damon feels like a ghost. Someone who died and left this bitter stranger wearing his face.
We don’t speak until we’re in Ansel’s office with the door closed.
“Sit.” He gestures to the couch, not the chairs across from his desk.
I sink onto the leather, suddenly exhausted. “I already gave you the Montana notes.”
“I know.” He moves to the bar cart in the corner, pouring amber liquid into two glasses. “But you needed an exit.” He hands me a glass and sits beside me. He is close enough that my pulse kicks up for reasons that have nothing to do with Damon.
“How much did you hear?” I ask.
“Enough.” He takes a sip of his whiskey. “What does he have on you?”
Straight to the point. No preamble. Very Ansel.
I could lie. I should lie. But I’m so tired of carrying this alone.
“When I was in college, I hacked into the university’s financial system.
” The words tumble out. “There were discrepancies, funds disappearing. I proved the CFO was embezzling. I delivered all of the evidence anonymously, of course. But they fired him and restructured everything. However, I did it without authorization. So, technically, it was illegal.”
Ansel’s brow quirks up. “And?”
And? I just confessed to a crime.
“And Damon is threatening to report it if I don’t quit.”
“He’s bluffing.”
“Maybe.” I set my glass down. “But he’s right about one thing. If he reports this, the investigation would be a nightmare. For your company and for me.”
Ansel stands abruptly, and for a second, I think he’s going to leave. Instead, he pulls out his phone and dials.
“Get in here. Now.” He ends the call without waiting for a response.
“What are you doing?”
“Ending this.” His jaw is tight, and I realize he’s furious. Not at me. But for me.
The door opens. Damon walks in with his usual swagger, but he falters when he sees me on the couch.
Ansel stands between us. His voice is deadly quiet. “Close the door.”
Damon does, wariness creeping into his features. “What’s this about?”
“You threatened Remy.”
“I don’t know what she told you, but—”
“Don’t.” Ansel’s single word stops him cold. “Don’t lie to me. I heard the entire conversation.”
Damon’s face flushes. “Fine. I threatened her. But I wasn’t actually going to turn her in. I just want her to leave.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Having her here is hard, Ansel. I still have feelings for her.”
The room goes silent.
I can’t process what he just said. Damon has feelings for me? From where I’m sitting, it looks more like a bruised ego and control issues. But sure. Let’s call it feelings.
Ansel goes completely still, and when he speaks, his tone is colder than I’ve ever heard it. “Let me make sure I am understanding you correctly. You have feelings for her, so you want to ruin her life?”
“Fuck.” Damon looks at me with desperation in his eyes. “No. Well, maybe. I don’t know.”
Ansel closes his eyes and shakes his head in disbelief. “I can’t look at you right now.”
Damon throws up his hands in desperation. “What the fuck, Ansel?”
“Get out of my office.” Ansel takes a step toward him, and Damon actually backs up. “Before I forget we’ve been friends since college, and throw you out that window.”
Damon laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You’re going to choose her over me?”
“You threatened an employee.” Ansel’s control is cracking, fury bleeding through.
“I told you that I wasn’t actually going to do it!”
“I don’t care.” Ansel moves closer, and I see Damon swallow hard.
“If you were anyone else, you’d be fired.
Escorted out by security. But because we’ve been friends for so long, I’m giving you one chance.
One.” He leans in, and his voice drops to something lethal.
“If you ever threaten her again or if you so much as look at her the wrong way, I will destroy you. Professionally, financially, personally. Do you understand me?”
Damon’s eyes widen. “Are you serious right now?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
Damon glances at me, then back at Ansel, trying to gauge if this is real. I’m wondering the same thing. The violence in Ansel’s voice sends a shiver down my spine that isn’t entirely fear.
Damon laughs, nervous and uncertain.
Ansel doesn’t blink. “Get. Out.”
Damon looks between us one more time, then turns and leaves. The door closes with a soft click that feels louder than a slam.
Ansel stands there, breathing hard, staring at the door like he’s debating going after him.
I’m too shocked to say anything.
He turns to me, and the intensity in his gaze steals my breath. He crosses the space between us in three strides, then stops, like he’s physically restraining himself from getting closer.
“Are you okay?” His voice is rough.
“I’m fine.” It’s not entirely true, but it’s all I can manage.
He turns away, shoulders tight. “He had no fucking right.”
I get up and walk over to him, standing in front of him. We’re in each other’s space now, the professional distance gone. I have to look up to meet his eyes.
“Remy.” My name on his lips is almost a warning.
“Ansel.”
His hand comes up, and for a second, I think he’s going to touch me. His fingers hover near my face, close enough to feel the heat, before he drops his hand and takes a step back.
“You should go.” His voice is strained. “I have calls to make.”
“What kind of calls?”
“The kind that make sure Damon’s threat stays buried.” He moves to his desk, putting distance between us. “That university incident? It’ll never see the light of day. I’ll make sure of it.”
“You can do that?”
He looks at me, and there’s something raw in his expression. “I can do a lot of things.”
I swallow hard. That sentence is going to replay in my head later. Probably at an inappropriate time.
And watching him wield that kind of power, and knowing he used it for me? I liked it way more than I should.
“Thank you.” My words are inadequate, but coherent sentences are beyond me right now.
I walk to the door on shaking legs. My hand is on the handle when he speaks again.
“Remy?”
I turn back. He’s standing behind his desk, hands braced on the surface, looking at me with an intensity that makes my knees weak. “If he tries anything again, you come to me. Immediately. Understand?”
“I understand.”