27. Michelle
MICHELLE
Aura is packed, even on a Wednesday. The line snakes around the block, music pulses onto the sidewalk like the night’s already in full swing. I push past the crowd and head inside.
Vinnie showed up at the agency earlier, rattled and panicked, demanding answers I didn’t have.
I told him to go home and wait for my call.
I didn’t tell him who was helping me or what I was doing, only that I had it handled.
Then Dean called and asked me to come by.
I’m hoping that means he has news. Good news.
My pulse picks up as I move through the club, weaving past servers and cutting through the usual crowd. The noise, the chatter, the flash of overpriced shoes and designer jackets, it all fades into the background as I head for the office.
When I reach Dean’s door, it’s already ajar.
He’s inside, waiting, with a drink in his hand and his sleeves rolled up.
He looks like he hasn’t slept. His jaw is tight, and when his eyes meet mine, he doesn’t smile.
He just gestures toward the chair across from him, and in that moment, I already know this isn’t going to be good news.
“Thanks for trying,” I say as I lower myself into the chair. “I can’t tell you how much—”
“Don’t thank me.” Dean’s voice is stern, his eyes fixed on some point beyond my shoulder. He doesn’t look at me.
“No, seriously. I know Vinnie’s a mess, and this wasn’t your problem. You stepped in anyway. That means a lot.”
He rubs a hand along his jaw, then takes a slow sip of his drink.
“I didn’t do what you think I did.”
The words hit with just enough weight to make me sit up straighter. I blink, trying to catch up.
“Okay,” I say cautiously. “Then what did you do?”
Dean finally meets my eyes.
“Vinnie came to me. Monday night. He was here after I left your place,” Dean says. “He told me you were overloaded. That you weren’t seeing the bigger picture. That you might leave the agency. That it was his. He thought he could win my business.”
My stomach twists. “He said that?”
Dean gives a slow nod, and it all clicks into place. Of course. All those clients I lost to Vinnie, it was him. He was going behind my back, approaching them directly.
How long has he been doing this?
I stare down at the floor, everything slotting into place. I thought I was the problem. I thought I was failing on my own. I blamed myself for all of it. Then I look at Dean.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Thought I’d handle it,” he says.
“What does that mean?”
He exhales hard through his nose.
“I got his permit pulled.”
I don’t move or breathe. I just stare at him. A slow, hollow ache builds behind my ribs. Not anger. Just a creeping disbelief, like I’ve stepped off a curb and only now realized there’s no ground beneath me.
“You should’ve told me,” my voice cracks on the edges. “The second he came to you, you should’ve said something. But instead, what? You thought you’d ruin his life?”
“I thought I was protecting you.”
“By deciding what I can and can’t handle?”
He shakes his head. “You don’t get it. He came in here and tore you down. He’s lucky he’s still standing. I wanted to do worse.”
“So what?” I snap. “You want a thank-you for bankrupting him instead?”
“I just wanted to tie his hands long enough for you to win. I screwed up. I know that.”
I look at him. The lines around his eyes, the exhaustion written across every inch of him. He hasn’t slept. Probably hasn’t eaten. He’s a mess. My anger doesn’t vanish, but it thins out.
“It’s not okay,” I say.
“I know,” he says softly. “I’m sorry.”
He stands, watching me like he’s not sure if he’s allowed.
Then he comes around the desk and reaches for me.
He pulls me into a hug, arms firm around my back, holding on like he’s afraid to let go.
My heart is still racing, and my thoughts are a mess.
But his arms stay steady, his hold strong and certain, and I let myself lean into it.
Eventually, I let out a breath. The weight of it all presses in, and I start to sort through it. Dean crossed a line. He should have told me the truth. That’s not something I’m ready to let go of. Not yet.
But I understand why he did it. It was stupid and wrong. But it wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t trying to hurt me.
Vinnie is different. What he did wasn’t one bad decision, it was a choice he made over and over. He chipped away at me quietly, all while pretending to be on my side. He didn’t just lie. He made sure I failed. That’s not something I can forgive. Not now. Maybe not ever.
“Alright,” I say finally. “I’ll deal with this. But if you ever go behind my back again—for anything—we’re done.”
“There’s something else,” Dean says, and quickly adds, “it’s not that bad. But you’re not going to like it.”
He hesitates, then sighs and rubs a hand down his face.
“I bought a place. On Redwood Drive,” he says. “I saw how close the numbers were. I saw how hard you were working. And I thought, if one deal could make the difference…”
I stare at him, stunned into stillness. The eco-home? Dean bought the eco-home.
“I shouldn’t have done it. I know that,” he says quickly. “You would’ve gotten there on your own. I should’ve trusted that. But I just…I wanted to help. I love you, Michelle. That’s all it was.”
I shake my head.
“Dean, that’s not helping. That’s rigging the game.”
“I know,” he says, softer now. “Vinnie was rigging it too—”
“That doesn’t mean I stoop to his level.”
“You didn’t. I did. It was a bad call.”
I let out a breath, the weight of everything shifting, just slightly.
“You spent seven million dollars,” I say, “on a terrible investment.”
He gives a small, wry smile. “Maybe. But you’re not.”
It pulls a reluctant laugh out of me. I look at him and I see the guilt, the stubbornness, the impossible kind of love that drives people to do stupid, reckless things.
I don’t like what he did. I’m not getting over it tonight. But I know why he did it.
He loves me.
I sigh and lean into him. My forehead rests against his chest, and for a moment, I stay there. I’m tired. Still frustrated. But it’s softened now. And as infuriating as he is, I understand why he did this.
“And there’s nothing else I should know about?” I ask, pulling back just enough to see his face.
“No,” Dean says.
“I mean it, Dean. No more backdoor fixes like I can’t handle things myself. If something comes up, you tell me. You’re honest, or we’re done.”
He meets my eyes and holds the look. “There’s nothing else. I swear.”
I study him for another beat, searching for anything that doesn’t sit right. Then I exhale and nod. I believe him.
“I guess I should go deal with Vinnie.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No. I can handle him.” I start to pull away just as a knock breaks through the quiet.
Dean lets out a breath and calls out, “Yeah?”
The door swings open and two men step inside.
Both are tall, broad, impossible to ignore.
One wears a tailored dark suit, no tie, with stubble along his jaw and a heavy watch visible at his wrist. The other is in a white T-shirt, jeans, and worn boots.
A gold hoop glints in his ear, and thick gold rings cover his fingers.
He’s got a mustache that should look ironic but doesn’t.
I frown, trying to place them. I’ve never seen them before, but something about them is off.
Maybe it’s instinct. They’re both strikingly good-looking, the kind of men who turn heads without trying.
But that’s not what bothers me. It’s the energy they carry.
Dangerous. Tightly wound. Predatory. The kind that makes your body go rigid before your mind catches up.
“It’s not a good time,” Dean says.
Mustache doesn’t flinch. “Should we take a number?”
The other one glances at me, amused like I’ve walked into an inside joke. He lifts an eyebrow.
“You gonna introduce us?” he asks.
Dean’s clipped. “Levi.” He nods at Mustache. “Drew. Michelle. She was just leaving.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, turning toward the door.
Drew steps aside with a mock flourish, hand to his chest. “After you.”
Levi groans. “Seriously?”
“What?” Drew shrugs. “I’m just looking.”
Dean’s voice cuts in. “Eyes off.”
Drew snaps his fingers like something clicked.
“Ah. Corvette guy was worth the trouble then.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Dean says.
I stop. Cold shoots through me. I turn slowly, my heart hammering.
"What did you just say?" I ask, eyes on Drew.
"Me?" he says. "I didn't say anything." He says it smoothly enough that I almost believe him. I look to Dean. His face is stone. Poker face flawless. But I know what I heard.
"I heard Corvette," I say.
"No one said anything about a piss-yellow Corvette, alright?" Levi says, gesturing me toward the door.
Dean closes his eyes for a few second too long. Caught.
"Explain," I say. But I don't need him to.
The pieces click into place one after another, too fast to stop. The last time I saw Josh, there was a black Mustang parked across the street from my building. Two men inside. I told myself it was nothing. Probably PIs on a cheating spouse. I brushed it off.
But now I'm staring at those same two men. Same clothes. Same faces. Standing in my boyfriend's club. And suddenly, I know exactly what this is.
"We'll talk about it later," Dean says, his mask sliding back into place.
"You had me followed?" I ask. Then I turn to Levi and Drew. "Did you break into my apartment too? Go through my drawers?"
Levi shifts, eyes flicking to Dean. "We didn't do that."
"It's not as bad as it sounds," Dean says.
"You scared Josh off. That's why he stopped calling. What did you do? Threaten him?"
Drew and Levi don't answer. The silence is enough.
A heavy ache settles in my chest. Not shock. Not heartbreak. The slow realization of everything I got wrong.
I thought Josh ghosted me. I thought I'd pushed him away.
I carried that blame. And when I started falling for Dean, I told myself it was my choice.
That I was moving on. That I was choosing him on my own terms. But now I see it.
He wasn't just there when I needed him. He was shaping things from the start, moving pieces I didn't even know existed.
Minutes ago, he looked me in the eye and promised there were no more secrets.
My heart doesn't break. It folds in on itself like a tired muscle finally giving out. This isn't sadness. It's exhaustion.
"I told you to be honest, or we're done," I say quietly. "You weren't honest."
Dean's expression shifts. I see the instinct to reach for me, to fix it. But I'm already moving.
I turn and walk. One foot in front of the other. Out of the office. Through the door.