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Incredibly, I find myself grinning back. That’s my brother, quick to forgive, even an asshole like me. Except, of course, any person who threatens Violet. Then forgiveness isn’t an option.
“Look.” I lean forward and clasp my hands, forearms on my knees. “It’s not just the company. Neither of you would let anyone hurt your women. I don’t want Chloe to be hurt. What do you think people will say about her?”
Tate cocks a brow. “I guess that’s up to you, isn’t it?”
I scrub my hands over my face. I’d give anything for my mind to be as clear and focused as it used to be. Not torn between competing priorities.
Cole laces his hands together over his stomach and leans back. “What did she say when you told her you were moving her?”
My body tenses like it does every time I picture the hurt in her expression. “That we should take a break.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“No. I wanted to do damage control. She suggested a break so we could figure out our priorities.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
Fuck. When did my brother turn into a goddamn shrink? “I feel like shit. Is that what you want to hear?” Hands in my hair, I tug, relishing the pain. “But I need to get the company through all these big changes. We have to navigate these next few months, then Chloe and I can bring our relationship into the spotlight on our own terms.”
“And will she still be waiting once those things happen?” Tate asks.
My stomach lurches sickeningly. The possibility that she won’t be isn’t something I want to contemplate.
He props an ankle over a knee and drapes an arm along the back of the couch. “Because it sounds to me like you already know what your priority is. And it doesn’t seem like it’s Chloe.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHLOE
Iswirl dark paint on the canvas, a lock of hair hanging over pale gray eyes flanked by smile lines. As I sit back to inspect my work, my heart thuds painfully.
It’s been a week since I left King Plaza. Since I walked away from Roman. He messaged me that first night, but I was too confused, too full of conflicting emotions, to talk. I told him again that we should take some time apart. He seems to have taken me at my word. And I hate it.
I hate not talking to him, I hate not seeing him every day, and I hate the distance between us. But more than all of that, I hate that I’m a secret he has to protect. I don’t want to be a risk to his goals, and I can no longer wait around, hoping his priorities will change.
Yes, I can find another job. If I do, then maybe, given time for the world to forget I was ever his assistant, he’d be okay with shedding light on our relationship. But I don’t know if I’d ever feel completely confident in the strength of it, knowing he’ll always put the King Group first.
Working at Wright Construction has been… different. I’m in a similar role but reporting to one of their VPs. When Ethan dropped by on my first day, our conversation was a littleawkward, considering how our one and only date ended. But apparently, he’s in a new relationship and happy, so we moved past that pretty quickly.
I miss seeing Sophie at work too. The last time we talked, she told me the official story is that I was moved so that a person from the King Group who was familiar with the joint project could be on hand for support. I’m not sure how many people actually buy it.
I wipe my paintbrush on an old rag, then set it down and head out of my room.
When I walk into the kitchen, I find Dad and Carol locked in an embrace and immediately stumble to a halt.
They don’t notice me right away, but when I clear my throat, they leap apart. I almost laugh at the expression on Dad’s face. He looks like a teenager being caught by his mom.
I cross my arms, playing up the role. “Care to explain yourselves?”
“It’s not what it looks like,” Dad says.
That sends me over the edge, a snort escaping me.
Carol covers her face with her hands, breaking into a fit of giggles. “Please don’t ground us!”
Her laughter is so infectious that it sets me off too. Despite the constant ache in my chest, seeing the two of them together makes me happy.
Dad looks between us, his brow furrowed. “You’re not mad?”