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I imagined that I could let myself care for her. That over the next year, we could forge something between us. But without trust, there’s nothing. Nothing but a flimsy illusion built on sex and a few midnight confessions.
I walk to the table where we dined just a few minutes ago. I sit and pour myself coffee. I sit back and gaze at her over the rim of my cup. I give her no emotion, no sign of the fury clawing inside me.
“Explain.”
Her hand tightens on the rail. I find myself curious as to how she’s going to spin this. Will she simply own up to the fact that when she reacted with such theatrical offense back in Paris, she had just been baldly lying and doing exactly what I had accused her of? Using our marriage to further her career? Or would she try to play it off, come up with an excuse for what she has been doing behind my back even if she slept in my bed?
“When I saw Louis Paul’s name on that paperwork in your suite, it brought Texas back.”
I stay silent. She hesitates, her throat working as she swallows, before she continues.
“I found the timing of his visits to Walter odd. I couldn’t find anything and as I started to focus on my other project, I decided to drop it.”
“Until I provided you with the perfect opportunity to continue your work.”
She flinches. My anger multiplies at the tiny sliver of guilt for hurting her. I should feel nothing. She is the one at fault.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Of course it wasn’t.” I take a sip of coffee. It burns its way down my throat, gives me something else to focus on. “Tell me, Juliette, how was it?”
She looks away then. I thought my heart already crushed. But the sure sign of her trying to come up with an excuse, of continuing to lie to me, grinds it from tiny shattered pieces into dust.
“I reached out to a couple of my contacts. Not for a story,” she insists as she looks at me again. “I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t missed something again.”
“So altruistic reasons then? Nothing to do with a future story, another lauded investigation by the infamous Juliette Grey?”
She looks at me with heartbroken eyes. In that moment, I despise her for it. For making me care. Making me think that I might have a shot at happily-ever-after.
“You know I was considering giving up investigative reporting.”
“You said you were. I have no way of knowing if that was just another lie you told me or had any basis in truth.”
“It’s the truth.” She releases the railing and stalks toward me. “You saw my photos. I told you everything.”
“Everything you wanted me to think and believe.”
She stops then, looks at me as if I’m the one who’s caused all of this.
“Is that what you really think?”
Her words catapult me back to Paris, to that moment when I felt lower than dirt for jumping to conclusions and accusing her of using our marriage to advance her career. That moment, and my subsequent apology, led to our dinner at the Eiffel Tower, our lovemaking after.
“I think you’re far more dedicated to your career than I gave you credit for.” I sit up then, lean forward, pin her with my gaze and let her see the depth of my anger. “You lay next to me in bed this morning when I talked about Paul Properties. When I unburdened my soul to you. You didn’t think to mention that you were looking into him then?”
“What was I supposed to say, Gavriil? Oh, thank you for sharing the worst possible moments of your life and all the great things you’re doing despite the trauma you’ve suffered. Oh, by the way, did I tell you that the man you might be making your next big deal with is suspected of trafficking?”
“You could have told me in Paris. You could have told me numerous times. But you didn’t. I had to find out from someone else. Had to find out by having the deal I’ve been working day and night on yanked away from me.” I can feel the next words building in my throat, know deep down that they’re wrong. But I can’t stop them. “I think in your desire for revenge on anyone worth over six figures, especially the offspring of Lucifer Drakos, you decided now was the time to kill two birds with one stone.”
She rears back as if I’ve slapped her. I almost hate myself for what I’ve said, for voicing my deepest fear as fact. But I also know it doesn’t matter what she says in rebuttal. Nothing can fix what she’s done.
The words are cruel. But they will sever all ties. I need that. I need to never, ever have hope that something could change.
Her eyes glint. Her lashes sweep down. She inhales deeply, then looks up at me. I don’t trust the sadness I see in her dark brown gaze even as I can feel something inside me wanting to reach out, wanting desperately to grab at that last thread that might somehow make this all right again.
“I hid something from you. I’ll apologize for that, and for what it’s caused. My contact has always been reliable, so I didn’t think twice about asking them for more information.” Her shoulders sag, as if the weight of the world has been dropped on them. “Louis Paul is clean. Whatever he’s doing in Dallas is personal.”
Beneath the betrayal, I can at least respect Juliette’s ability to ferret out information. But I don’t trust a single word she says right now. If Paul has any connection to Walter’s human trafficking ring, I need to know about it. Not only can I not risk Drakos doing any dealings with him, but I will personally do whatever is in my power to put him in prison where he belongs. If he is innocent, I will be working night and day to get this deal back on track.