Chapter 9 #2
Swallowing hard, I enter the information, followed by a string of commands, wait, and then he’s there—or one of his guys is—and the blinking prompt appears. The cursor is on the third line. In the third space.
Once I enter the request here, there’s no going back.
My pulse is racing so hard that I can’t hear anything except the whoosh through my ears.
The way my heart slams into my chest sickens me.
This is a mistake. I know it is, but I’m dead if I don’t do this.
That candidate I was with has to be dead, but I don’t know who did it.
I know it looks like it was me. If it was the Menellis, then I’m trusting that’ll hurt less than if I called my family.
Because there’s no way back from here. It’s not just asking for help from someone who is not Ferro.
It’s asking the Ferro enemy for help. Betrayal. They’ll never take me back.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend. God, I hope that shit is true.
It’s better to beg forgiveness than die.
I wonder who I’ll be begging tomorrow?
Watching the blinking cursor on the screen, I pull in a long steady breath and exhale just as slowly. My fingers tremble above the keyboard. Waiting. This is a crossroads. There will be no going back. I’m running straight from one Hell and into another.
A tear drips from my cheek onto my forearm and runs down my wrist before it trickles onto the desk. My lips are pressed into a thin line, held in place by my teeth.
I stroke a key and then another, entering the request, pecking the keys one at a time.
Before I can finish typing, the lights flick on, blinding me.
Without looking behind me, I reach for the wall and firmly yank the power cord, killing the input.
Every hair on my body stands on end. Every inch of me is ready to fight or flee.
My fingers curl into fists as I whirl around, grab the chair, and swing it up in the air, getting ready to hurl it.
But when I look up and see the man standing before me, the man blocking the doorway, I hesitate.
Chase.
His gaze fixates on me and then quickly lands on the chair, silver legs ready to come down hard on his skull. Chase gawks at me before the makeshift weapon slams into the floor with a deafening clang when I drop it.
Something like hope floats up inside of me.
It’s him. He’s here. I want to grab the front of that wrinkled blue shirt and hold him.
I want time to stop and give us the moment we should have had together.
Instead, I stand there with my brow pinched and my heart pounding, because I got to see him one more time.
My lips press together rapidly. I want to say something, but I can’t form words. My heart is breaking.
Chase meets my gaze and holds it. His eyes flick to my wet cheeks and then the chair, lying sideways on the floor.
My voice is so small, I don’t think he can hear it. “But I can still hear music…”
Chase must catch my voice because he nods slowly—his eyes dip to the computer cord lying on the floor, before lifting to meet my gaze once more. “That’s the replay on my phone.”
I don’t understand. He must see it on my face, so he explains, “It’s a recording. I always record myself when I’m composing. I didn’t expect to see you there. In the balcony.” He considers me for a moment. Remaining several strides away. Tension is laced through his body, the column of his neck.
“I didn’t expect to see you either.” I’m too stiff. It’s everything I can do to stand there and not fall apart.
Chase moves towards me. Stops. Waits a beat, and when I say nothing, he cocks his head to the side. “Why do I think you’re still lying to me?”
“I almost threw a chair at your head. Do you really think I thought you were there?” My chest rises as I breathe in rapidly. What’s happening? The way he’s looking at me makes me want to slink away.
Dodge. Evade. Don’t pull him into this. Don’t. I look away from him and scoop up my wallet and keys from the desk. I plaster a plastic smile across my face and force my voice to be lighter. “Not a moment ago, but today, earlier—yeah.”
I move to walk past him, but he blocks me. I look up at him from under my brows, at the chair lying on its side, and then back at him. “Step aside.”
Chase folds his arms over his chest. “Absolutely not.” And it feels like the world is breaking apart under my feet.
Every muscle in Chase’s body is corded tight.
“Every part of me is telling me to get the fuck out of here. Which is why I can’t walk away without knowing what’s wrong.
Tell me.” His voice is confident, but compassionate.
No. Absolutely not. “Nothing. I forgot something for work. And you—you just surprised me. That’s all.”
Shaking his head, Chase doesn’t back down. “That’s not it.”
When he doesn’t move out of the doorway, I’m forced to back away. I don a fake grin, tuck my Crayola hair behind my ear. “You know I’m twitchy. You’re lucky I didn’t taser you again.”
He inches closer, that blue gaze boring into me.
I back up.
Chase watches me, silently questioning me. From the look on his face, lying is one of the worst sins. I can see it in his mouth. The way he holds back words. The way he doesn’t breathe them to life as easily as I do.
The vulnerable man from the stage is gone. In his wake is Chase Fuckin’ Desparaux.
Swallowing hard, I raise my hands, palms towards him. “Listen, we had one date. I don’t have to tell you anything.”
He doesn’t flinch. “True. But don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.” My words are knives, cutting the tension between us, but more pressure grows in its wake.
Chase gets in my space without touching me. His voice is soft, careful, like he’ll spook me. “Are you hurt?”
“No, don’t be—”
Annoyed that I lied. Again. He cuts me off, asks differently, “Fine, are you in trouble?”
“No.” My voice is hollow as I blink up at him. Meeting his gaze.
We both know it’s a lie.
Nerves lick the insides of my stomach, forcing me to press my lips together. Nervous laughter finds me. You’d think I never lied before. Never conned men and ruined them utterly. I’m acting like a schoolgirl.
In that moment, I wish I could call Bryan. I want my twin. I’ve wanted his help for so long, and I miss him so much, but Bryan is gone. Something in my chest tightens, threatens to fracture.
The pressure builds and builds until I let out a rush of air into Chase’s downturned face. Because he’s not backing off. He won’t leave. And I want to cry because I can’t involve him in this.
His voice is a whisper, “Is something wrong?”
I nod once. Eyes glassy and burning, I finally lower my lashes and lean my thighs back against the desk. I choose my words carefully. Poisoned barbs, every one of them. “You really think a guy like you can help me? With those delicate fingers? And that bleeding heart? Please.”
The expression on his face changes. Looks like I’ve punched him in the stomach. “Stop it. You know I can—”
All the false bravado comes back to me, fills my body in full force. I’m radiating confidence. I step into him, press my fingers to his firm chest, push as my words slice him open. “No, YOU can’t. You’re not that kind of man, so let’s stop pretending, shall we?”
There’s so much tension rolling off Chase in that moment.
I know he’s ready to fight. But he backs down.
Steps away from me. He offers a slight bow and folds his arm in front of his waist, tipping his head forward like a gentleman.
“Excellent. All pretense dropped.” A brittle laugh crawls up my throat, but I swallow it back down.
As I pass him, Chase reaches out and grabs my upper arm—stopping me. “It didn’t have to be this way.”
“There is no IT,” I snap at him. I annihilate every shred of compassion left within me to keep the coldness in my voice, but I do. The look I shoot at him could cut diamonds. “So, walk away, Chase Desparaux, because this girl is way out of your league.”
The last sentence is a ballbuster, and it strikes Chase in a way I didn’t expect.
Instead of releasing me, Chase pulls me close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath wash across my face. I trip over my feet as he snarls in my face, “All you people are the same. You think you’re better than everyone else. Well, fuck you, and the rest of your Ferro family.”