Chapter 14
Formalities
CORMAC
It takes more than one try to get Skyler off our asses. I still don’t know him well enough to decipher if he was oblivious or pointedly pressing my buttons.
From what little I have learned, I fear it’s the latter.
He seems the type who believes that being a bother is the same as being a friend. Begrudgingly, I have to admit that it’s charming, in the way a new puppy that won’t stop humping everything is charming.
It took glaring daggers at him over Brigit’s shoulder to get him to leave her alone, droning on about the fight and how he pummeled that man.
Another asshole who questioned the validity of the fights, a small man who really had no business going up against someone as notoriously vicious as Sky.
Guiding Brigit into my office with a palm on her lower back, her warmth radiates into my hand, the heat reassuring me that she’s really here, she’s really real, and she really just came all over my hand.
I’ll be riding that high for the rest of my life.
More than the absolutely stunning exultation of her release, there’s something deeper than the lust barreling through me every moment we’re together.
If souls exist, hers calls to mine, a siren song I can’t resist. The melody of her breathing, the choreography of her measured, careful steps, she’s the only depiction of a goddess I believe could be real.
And being in her life, being the one who introduces her to new parts of herself, is a gift I refuse to squander.
I want to reach the deepest parts of her, explore everything she’s been too afraid to. I need to discover the pieces she hasn’t let anyone else bring out.
I know this is fucking crazy. We’ve supposedly spoken less than a handful of times, only three of which I can remember.
But there’s a knowing that’s deeper than just memory. It’s instinctual, intrinsic.
I’ve never believed in past lives or a greater power, but somewhere in my core, I know I would chase her across galaxies, across timelines, into every universe and life that might exist for us. I refuse to believe there’s ever been a moment in time where we haven’t been circling each other.
Like now, as she walks to the far side of my desk, trying to keep a barrier between us as my legs beg to follow.
She smooths the tiny dress down her thighs before sinking into the chair, waiting for me to do the same.
Sitting across from her, I can’t shake the daunting feeling of deja vu washing over me.
“We’ve been here before,” I say aloud, not asking but telling.
With a heavy breath, she nods, “Not here, no. But as I said, we met professionally before. You insisted on an in person meeting. I assumed it was— nevermind. It doesn’t matter what I assumed. You offered me a job and I turned it down.”
“You assumed it was what?” Whether she believes it’s important or not, every piece of my missing past matters.
Her nose scrunches with discomfort, those adorable little lines running down it appearing as she does.
I let us sit in silence as she debates whether she’s going to answer me or not. I’m in no hurry for this meeting to end, and if she is, she’s going to have to give me what I’m looking for.
With a groan, she finally tells me.
“The night we met, I was finishing up my internship at a law firm. They had offered me a full time junior position,” her shaking hands ease her wild strands from her shoulder. “And I figured since we had met, you were looking to work with the firm itself and I was your contact.”
“And then I offered you a job instead.”
“You did,” she nods.
“And you turned me down.” I finish the story, knowing I’ve only gotten the most surface-level version of it. “Makes sense if you were already contracted with another position.”
A humorless laugh and a snort slip from her before she can stop the incredulous noises from escaping.
“My offer was retracted before the internship ended.”
“Why?”
She sniffs, “Professional misconduct.”
“Jesus Christ, what did you do?”
“That’s really none of your business,” she bites. “The point is, it didn’t work out, and I was still too busy licking my wounds to take on this,” her hand drags through the air, gesturing towards me and the contract on the dark wood between us.
“This?”
Leaning forward, she spreads the pages, “I wasn’t qualified for what you needed.”
“But that’s not why you turned it down.” She hasn’t outright said it, but it’s written across her face that her reasoning for rejecting the offer isn’t as black and white as she’s pretending. “So what is? What is in this contract that scared you away?”
Shaking her head, she focuses on the papers before us, her eyes darting everywhere but near me, "You work with a lot of legally demanding substances and machinery. I don't know much about your line of work, so I can't really say what's standard, but a lot of this seems out of the realm of normal.”
Suspicion crawls up my spine. I can't say what compels me to accuse her, but I can't stop it. "You're lying to me. Again."
She stumbles over her argument, "N-no, I'm not."
"What are you hiding from me, Brigit?" I stand, both hands on the table, leaning over it, trying to contain my frustration. It’s not her fault that she’s somehow holding a portion of my past. But I’m desperate to understand what could have been so bad that she turned down a job that paid exponentially more than she could have made as a junior lawyer elsewhere.
A heavy breath escapes her unbidden, and goosebumps rise along her arm where it rests on the table near mine.
"I'm not hiding anything," she insists. "I'm just..." she clears her throat.
“Just...?”
“Look,” she sighs, leaning forward. “This compensation package, plus some of the strange wording about legal proceedings if there’s a dissolution of our agreement, and the lack of conduct expectations…
not to mention the very thorough NDA, I knew from one glance at this contract that you did illegal shit. ”
“You do illegal shit,” I laugh.
A small smile drags the corner of her lips up.
“You forget this was years ago. A lot has changed for me since then. But I was 24, I had just been fired for misconduct. I could see red flags all over you and this contract and couldn’t afford to get wrapped up in another fucking mess.
But I figured you were just using banned imports or something. I never expected that you...”
“Ran a crime ring and killed people.”
She pushes down a heavy, nervous swallow. “Yeah. That.”
I let out a breath.
I don’t remember my last lawyer leaving, but I do know she was good at her job. If she had written my hiring contracts and NDAs, they would have been ironclad.
“What did you get fired for that made you so sensitive to this?” I can’t stop the curiosity, even though the answer to this question won’t change anything about our situation. It didn’t escape my notice that she said she saw red flags all over me, too.
“I’m not answering that,” her lips purse together, and for the first time since we’ve met, I know I’ve found a line she won’t let me cross.
I’m sure somewhere in my arsenal I can dig for the truth, but I want her to tell me.
I want to be the person she trusts with her secrets, not someone she hides herself from.
“Fine,” I nod.
She stands, smoothing her dress again, “Great. Can I go now, Mr. Fomori?”
“I think we’re past such formalities now, Brigit,” I chuckle, the sound dark and wild with desire, “I’ve had my hand buried between your thighs and licked your cum off my fingers.”
She has no response, silently seething as her cheeks burn red and her eyes drop to the hand that brought her to orgasm less than thirty minutes ago.
I can’t help but chuckle, taking in the beauty of her furious expression. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”
“I’ll get a cab,” she tries to speed walk away from me, but in her sky-high heels, there’s no way she’s escaping that easily.
Catching up in only a few long strides, I wrap my arm around her shoulders, dragging her out the office door onto the main bar floor under my hold. “I insist.”
She rolls her eyes before letting them land on mine, her cheeks still bright pink in the flashing lights. “That won’t work forever you know. Eventually your threats won’t hold any weight.”
“I’m not threatening you,” I grin, “Not right now, anyway. Come on, I just want to make sure you get home safe. This is a dangerous part of town. Tons of criminals. I’ve heard there’s even,” I look around the bar, pretending to search for something before pulling her closer and whispering, “a murderer around here.”
Despite herself, Brigit laughs, trying—and failing— to hide the sound by biting her bottom lip.
Silently, I guide her out to my car, easing her into the passenger seat.
The ride is mostly silent, aside from the one time she tried to give me directions before remembering that I’ve been there.
Twice.
That she knows of.
With her seatbelt halfway off, she freezes and looks at me, her eyes wide and nervous, “Cormac.”
“Brigit,” my gaze drifts across her face, cataloguing every shadow and line, hoping that if I can just stare hard enough, it'll guarantee nothing will take the memories of her from me again.
“Now you have your answer.”
“Right.”
“So we’re done. You’re going to leave me alone.”
No, I’m not.
But I don’t have a good excuse to keep pestering her.
“Nah.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know the truth about me and what I’ve done,” I shrug, panicking and scrambling to find any excuse to keep feeding my addiction.
Her jaw drops and her brows furrow, the volume of her voice growing with her exasperation, “Because you told me.”
“You asked,” I explain, though I know that reasoning is flimsy at best. “In any case, I’ll need to keep an eye on you. Make sure you’re not plotting to turn me in.”
Her teeth grind as she narrows her eyes at me, vitriol and a touch of fear bleeding into them. Her mouth opens and shuts, whatever argument she’s thinking to make falling flat before she can even utter the words.