Chapter 6
Charlotte
I sat on the floor of the shower for longer than I should have, knees pulled to my chest, letting the water cascade over me like it could wash away more than just the grime of the day.
It couldn’t, of course. Water didn’t work that way. But I stayed anyway, too exhausted to move, too overwhelmed to face what waited for me on the other side of that bathroom door.
Kane Adair. In my apartment. For the foreseeable future.
The universe had a sick sense of humor.
When I’d written that article two years ago, I’d followed the evidence.
That’s what journalists did—what good journalists did.
You didn’t let personal feelings color your reporting.
You didn’t ignore facts because they pointed somewhere inconvenient.
The evidence had implicated Kane clearly, undeniably.
His handwriting on the sign-out sheets. His name on every document connected to the missing drugs and money.
Multiple officers willing to testify that the signatures matched.
I’d had no choice but to name him. No matter what else I might have felt.
And at the time, I had been bitter about my discovery.
So certain that this man had disappointed me just like everyone else in my life ever had.
My father, who’d spent my childhood running cons and teaching me that love was just another tool for manipulation.
My mother, who’d looked the other way and called it keeping the peace until she passed away when I was sixteen.
Every person I’d ever tried to trust, who’d eventually revealed themselves to be exactly what I should have expected.
Kane had seemed different. For two brief, beautiful nights together, I’d let myself believe he was different.
And then he wasn’t.
But the way he’d spoken to me just now in my living room, about colleagues betraying you... it had sounded personal. Raw. Like a wound that had never quite healed.
He understands , some traitorous part of my brain whispered. He knows exactly what it feels like to be sold out.
And Noble and Associates had hired him. A reputable firm, one that worked with celebrities and high-profile clients, one that couldn’t afford to have its reputation tarnished by association with corrupt former cops. Why would Sutton trust someone like Kane if he was really dirty?
You can’t afford to trust him , I told myself firmly. The water was starting to cool, but I didn’t move. He could have been corrupt once and decided to go straight. People change. Or maybe he’s just good at hiding who he really is.
But Kane had never turned anyone else over when the scandal broke. Never said a word in his own defense—I’d asked around back then, trying to understand. He’d just... taken the accusation. Let himself be pushed out of the force without a fight. Without so much as a statement to the press.
I hadn’t been stupid enough to try to get an interview with him. Given our history, that would have been... complicated. Or maybe it had just been cowardice—an inability to face the man I’d thought I could trust. I hadn’t wanted him to see how close he’d come to breaking my heart.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said out loud, my voice echoing off the tile enclosure. “You scened with him twice. That’s not—”
That’s not enough to break your heart , I tried to tell myself.
But it wasn’t true, was it? It hadn’t been about the number of times we’d been together.
It had been about the connection. The way he’d looked at me, touched me, held me afterward like I was something precious.
The plans we’d made. The future I’d let myself imagine only to be devastated by someone I’d cared about.
I finally stood, grabbing the shampoo and working it through my hair with more force than necessary. I was stronger than this. My father had spent my entire childhood breaking my heart over and over again. I knew better than to hand that power to anyone else.
But I couldn’t shake the memory of Kane’s voice when he’d talked about trust and betrayal. The weight of experience in every word. How he’d looked at me like he knew exactly what it felt like to realize the people you counted on had sold you out.
If only he knew how easy it was for me to believe my colleagues might betray me.
Loyalty wasn’t something I’d ever been able to count on.
And Calloway was rich, powerful, connected—if he had police on his payroll, it wasn’t much of a stretch to imagine he had reporters too.
People who’d look the other way, bury a story, tip him off when someone got too close.
What upset me wasn’t the possibility of betrayal. It was that I hadn’t considered it sooner.
I’d been so careful about who I’d told. So methodical about protecting my sources.
But lately, with the story building momentum and Ruth finally agreeing to go on record, I’d gotten.
.. excited. Careless, maybe. It was entirely possible someone at the paper other than my managing editor had noticed I was onto something big.
And if Calloway was smart—which he clearly was—he’d have people in place ahead of time, watching for exactly this kind of situation.
Had I let the magnitude of this story go to my head? Had I been so focused on the prestige, on taking down a monster like Calloway, that I’d forgotten to be as careful as I should have been?
My stomach lurched at the possibility.
I finished washing and rinsing my hair, added conditioner, then worked soap over my body without really thinking about it. Tried not to think about the fact that only a few flimsy walls and a doorway separated me from Kane.
He was still annoyingly handsome. Still radiated that quiet authority that had drawn me to him in the first place. And I hated— hated —that his commanding attitude just made me feel all...hot and bothered.
I’d never been dominated the way Kane had dominated me.
Never experienced the kind of scenes that left me floating in a haze of endorphins, my racing mind finally, blissfully quiet.
The orgasms he’d given me were still the benchmark against which all others fell short.
Every time I touched myself alone in bed, it was his hands I imagined, his voice in my ear, his commands that sent me over the edge.
It was hard when he gave me orders now— keep the curtains closed, don’t leave the apartment, let me handle this —to not remember how much I’d enjoyed following his instructions in very different circumstances.
I turned off the water and finally got out of the shower, dripping wet and staring at my reflection in the mirror. I was being a coward, hiding in here. I knew it. But I couldn’t quite make myself return to the living room where Kane and all those good memories between us were impossible to ignore.
Eventually, the sound of someone knocking and the front door opening forced my hand. The food I’d ordered had arrived, which meant I couldn’t stay in here forever without it being obvious I was avoiding him.
I toweled off quickly and pulled on clothes without really thinking—my usual lounging-around-the-apartment outfit.
It was only as I reached for the bedroom door that I realized what I was wearing: an oversized band t-shirt, the collar so stretched out it kept slipping off one shoulder, long enough to give the impression I wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
And beneath it, just a pair of tiny cotton workout shorts that barely covered the curve of my ass.
No bra. No underwear.
My hair was still damp from the shower, clinging to my neck in wet tendrils.
For a moment, I considered changing. But then I’d have to admit—to myself, if no one else—that I cared what Kane thought. That his presence affected me. That I felt anything other than professional tolerance for the man assigned to keep me alive.
Absolutely not.
I pushed open the door and walked out.
Kane was at the dining room table, laying out the containers of Chinese food I’d ordered.
He glanced up as I entered, and I watched his gaze travel over me—quick, involuntary, and immediately shuttered.
But not before I caught the flash of heat in his eyes.
Not before I saw the way his jaw tightened, his hands stilling for just a fraction of a second on one of the cartons of food.
My skin prickled with awareness. Heat pooled low in my belly and my nipples tightened into hard points, entirely unwelcome.
I looked away first, crossing to the table and dropping into the chair across from the one he’d chosen. The shirt slipped off my shoulder again, exposing the curve of my collarbone, and I tugged it back into place with an irritated yank.
It slipped right back down, and I was too aware of Kane’s gaze on my bare skin. Too conscious of the way his attention seemed to track my every movement, even when he was pretending to focus on the food.
Kane wasn’t stupid. If I went back to change he’d know something was wrong. And I would die before I gave him the satisfaction of knowing he’d rattled me.
“Mildly presumptuous of you to order for me without asking what I’d like, don’t you think?” Kane’s deep voice cut through my spiraling thoughts as he indicated the spread on the table.
There was something in his tone—not quite playful, but darkly amused. Like he knew exactly what was happening in my head and found it entertaining.
“Who said any of this was for you?” I kept my voice cool as I reached for the container of lo mein. “I’m starved.”
A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You can’t possibly eat all of this on your own”
“Watch me.”
But Kane was already helping himself, loading his plate with fried rice and orange chicken like he belonged here, like we were two normal people sharing a meal instead of enemies forced into close proximity by circumstance.