Page 52 of A Convenient Secret (Merged #3)

The marketing director’s face reddens. “We have been successful with that image for years. It’s part of our brand. People expect it.”

“People who are our customers may take comfort in it, but it doesn’t speak to anyone else. It certainly doesn’t speak to the younger generation. Let’s challenge the team to bring the campaign into the twenty-first century.”

Shocked faces stare at me. My heart beats so fast, they must hear it.

“Is this what your father wants?” the Head of Marketing scoffs.

“I’m the CEO at the moment, and that’s what matters. I want to see your proposals next week.”

He opens his mouth, but I turn to the head of HR. “I would like a proposal on how to create a more inclusive environment to attract female talent to the top positions at the company.”

I don’t know her, but she’s been silent at all the meetings, trying to blend into the background. A smile grows on her face at my words, and she nods.

“Okay then. Good job, everyone.” I stand up, my hands only slightly shaking.

The HR director approaches me. “I will send you my proposal today.”

I frown. “You knew I would ask?”

She shakes her head. “No, but I have tried to present it since I started a year ago.”

“I look forward to reviewing it.”

“It’s good to have you on board.” She leaves, and I smile for the first time in two weeks.

“Ms. Spinelli, I’m sorry, but Mr. Quinn is here, claiming he’s your husband.” My father’s assistant shrugs. “I told him that he has no appointment, but he just sits in the reception, refusing to leave. Should I call security?”

Her words penetrate my brain, and spread like a livewire dropped in water—sparking, hissing, sending shockwaves through every nerve.

My pulse trips, a wild rhythm of thrill and anxiety, while my stomach tightens as if bracing for impact. The rush is electric, overwhelming.

Heat spreads over my face as I try to find a regular rhythm for my breathing, and look like a reasonable person at the same time.

People who had booked a meeting here start wandering in, hesitating at the entrance when they see me.

“Right,” I croak. “Give me five minutes before you show Mr. Quinn to my office.”

I dash from the boardroom, forgetting my tablet and all my documents. Entering my father’s suite, I run for the bathroom.

Fuck, why didn’t I wear makeup? I’m dressed for the job, but my face looks like… well, like I haven’t slept, or taken care of myself.

I open the mirror cabinet, but of course my father doesn’t have blush or lipstick hidden here.

I splash my face with water, more to cool myself than to improve anything. What am I doing?

I hear the door of the office open. Fuck, it’s been five minutes already? For weeks, time has glided like molasses, and now, when I need a minute, it flies.

“Ms. Spinelli?” the assistant calls.

Okay, I just stood up to a room full of men in suits; I can face one more. I step out, my heels sinking into the plush carpet that covers the lavish office. Immediately, I realize how wrong I was.

I can’t face him.

The sight of him knocks the air out of me. He looks the same and different. Familiar broad shoulders, immaculate suit, mussed-up hair, and that dark gaze of his. His confidence spreads through the room, but there is something hesitant in his entry.

For a beat, time stops, and we stare at each other. I’m rooted to the floor, trying to tame my racing heart. It’s like all my bodily functions have narrowed into the loud pumping in my temple, so there is no energy left to breathe, think, speak, or anything else.

Declan turns to look at the assistant, and she shrivels under his scowl before she rushes out, leaving me alone with him.

Another lifetime passes as we just stand and look at each other. I will my legs to stay put, and it takes an inhuman effort not to run toward him.

“Seagull,” he rasps, and there are so many emotions behind that name, my knees buckle. The reverence and pain in his tone are almost my undoing.

And his voice. That voice has owned me for over a year. And at this moment, it arrests me with the same need as always.

But he isn’t just a voice to me anymore. And I’m not the girl I was then—as much as I wish for things to go back to one of those beats of time when we were whole.

“You came,” I breathe, as if it isn’t obvious.

“We need to finish our last conversation properly.” He puts his hands in his pockets. I wish that posture didn’t affect me as much.

It’s just a man with his hands in his pockets. I can repeat that to myself endlessly, but that doesn’t make it true. He’s way more.

“Declan, nothing we can say will change the fact that I’m here and you’re there.”

“We will get to that part. Do you want to sit?”

I definitely need to sit, but I resist. “I’m good.” That’s a gross exaggeration. “What are you doing here?”

“First, I came to apologize.” He pulls his hands out and clenches his fists, but then puts them back into his pockets.

Once I would have considered it an arrogant gesture. I know he does it to control his reactions. I wish he wouldn’t because I want to see his reactions. I want to feel them. I want to experience them.

I want him to be vulnerable with me.

I want to see he’s hurting as much as I am.

“For what?” I lick my lips, and his gaze drops there briefly before he locks it with mine, and I regret I didn’t take that seat.

The intense longing in his eyes hits me like a wrecking ball.

“For letting you leave.”

I blink. What the hell? And suddenly, the latent fury that I’ve been stifling blasts into a fire. “ Letting me leave? This is exactly why I left, Declan, because I’m not your property, or your employee.”

“Technically, you never quit.”

“Are you for real?” Thank God I’m not closer, because I want to slap him. I can still throw a stapler.

“Fuck, Lily, please just let me say what I came to say before I fuck it all up.”

I fold my arms over my chest, glaring at him.

“Maybe I wanted to own you. But only because you owned me first. Completely, painfully, unconditionally. Without you even knowing it, you owned me. I’m not going to apologize for that.

But I’m sorry for keeping things from you.

I’m sorry for not believing we might have a chance.

For thinking my only chance with you was so brief, I needed to trick you into it. ”

My chest constricts, burn searing my throat and itching my eyes. He didn’t think he had a chance with me? As far as apologies go, this one is the worst, but in some twisted way, the best I could have imagined.

“I kept things from you too.” I don’t say it to absolve him, but to put our relationship into perspective. We didn’t communicate well.

“To protect me and my kids. Don’t try to share the blame. The blame is on me. Only on me.”

He lifts his chin, challenging me. Even his admission of guilt carries an air of confidence. Why do I find it so attractive?

“Declan.” I sigh, not even sure whether I want to unwrap all my reservations.

He eats the distance between us and takes my hand. I need to snatch it away to protect myself, because his touch has never resulted in sensible behavior or logical choices for me.

He tugs me gently, so I’m forced to step closer. As soon as I’m in front of him, he squeezes my hand, but doesn’t invade my personal space. On some level, it’s almost worse.

I withdraw my hand from his and hug my arms.

He hangs his head, the pain we share palpable in the air. We share it without talking about it. We feel it without naming it. What we don’t know is how to get out of this limbo. Well, I don’t .

“I want to put an oversized photo of you on my wall,” he says.

I frown. “What?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not expressing myself properly, but I’m on Rachel’s side.”

Okay, maybe his cologne wiped my brain, because I really don’t follow. “Who is Rachel?”

He shifts from one foot to the other, frustration clenching his fists. “That episode of Friends where they argue whether Ross cheated. There is no such thing as a break when you love someone the way I love you. I can’t possibly imagine being with any other woman.

“You might be on the other side of the world, not talking to me, but that changes nothing. There is no break from you, Seagull. You’re it for me. Whatever you decide, I will only ever love you.”

God, how I wish these were the words he would have said before I left. “I wish you wouldn’t have said that.” My voice trembles.

He flinches, his face falling and rearranging itself into a stony expression. “Oh, I see.” His voice is still the voice I adore, but the tone is like a cold shower.

“Do you? Because I don’t see how this could work.

I never knew being in love hurts so much.

I’ve been miserable without you. Without Zoya and Zach.

But my father needs me here, and I don’t see how this could work.

So I appreciate that you came to finish our last conversation, but let’s not torture each other any longer, Declan. ”

“You want to stay here?” he asks curtly.

I sigh. “I’m hurt by your actions, but I believe you. I believe you did it because you wanted to be with me. It’s the most fucked-up way to start a relationship, but I believe you did it because you saw something in me that pulled you in.

“You say I owned you before we married. Well, until I moved into your house, I didn’t even know you knew I existed—”

“You must know by now that’s not true.” He takes a step closer, but thinks better of it.

His touch would be devastating.

“We can’t continue where we left off, Declan. But I’m not sure if I know how to redefine the dynamics between us. I come from a family where I only witnessed that when you want something you take it, no matter what, and not in an ambitious, healthy way, but in a domineering, rotten way.”

I glimpse the photo of me, my dad, and my brother on the shelf behind Declan.

“I know firsthand that love can make you overlook a lot of that. Forgive, accept, make excuses. I don’t want to live like that.

I don’t want my children to live in such a toxic environment and grow up believing that’s the only way. ”

“What are you saying, Lily?”

“For the past two weeks, I pictured you showing up and hugging me. And then everything would be better. Only I realized that I don’t want to be that girl who is silently waiting for your touch and attention.

I want to be the woman who deserves it. But I also want to be the woman who makes her own choices. ”

He stares at me, and I wish I could see what’s happening behind his stormy expression. I wish things were different. I wish I could know I’m making the right choice.

I wish I could know if one can function with their heart shattered.

Finally, he nods. “You want to stay.” This time it’s not a question; it’s a statement.

I nod regardless, and the last whole piece of my heart cracks.

“Okay,” he says and whips around.

“Where are you going?”

But my question reaches the open door as I watch Declan storming down the hallway. And, just like that, he is gone.

I close the door behind him and slide down, wondering whether I’ll ever stand up again.