Page 45 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part Two

“Are you sure you don’t wanthisjob?”

Melissa makes a pinched face.

“Oh, God no. Managing a team of sad workers dealing with complaints about computer logins and printer screw-ups? No, thanks.”

I hum in response, and we fall silent.

“Liv,” Melissa says, “I can be an asset to you if you let me. You do so much on your own, and you’re amazing at what you do. But I worry about you, because I don’t think you realize how many people have knives positioned at your back.”

I look at her, stare into her eyes. She’s still holding back information.

Just then, Zane knocks on the window next to my door, peeking his head inside. I’ve been avoiding him all day, primarily out of embarrassment over my behavior toward him in the conference room, but also from the fact I know I’ll have to explain myself to him, and I want to put that conversation off for as long as I can.

“Liv,” he says, his face serious. “Got a minute?”

I could push him off for another few hours or even another day, but the way his jaw tightens tells me avoidance time is over.

“Yeah,” I say, blowing out a breath. “Come on in.”

Zane enters the office and stands in front of my desk, silently staring at Melissa. My assistant looks at me with an unreadable expression.

“Melissa, thank you for your grace. Can we pick this conversation up tomorrow? Why don’t you head out for the day?”

Melissa smiles, but it looks more like a grimace.

“Sure thing, Liv,” she says, heading for the door. Right before she leaves, she turns and gives Zane a hard look before catching my gaze as well.

She doesn’t trust him, but Zane is my business partner, my friend. What would it mean if I couldn’t trust him, either?

The door shuts behind Melissa, and Zane looks me up and down before sighing and pointing to the seating area Melissa and I just used.

He sits on the sofa, and I finally unfreeze my body and sit in the armchair across from him.

“So,” he starts, a wry grin on his face. “Busy day?”

I cringe, not wanting to play at whateverthisis.

“That was Storm Sandoval,” I say. “I’ve told you about him.”

His eyebrows come down in a severe frown.

“What? Why was he here? Does he want to see the kids?”

As always happens when Zane mentions the twins, I clam up. He knows of them and has met them a few times, but I’ve made it a point to keep my family life and my work life as separate as possible. Outside of the small, framed picture on my desk, there aren’t any images or mementos from the kids, and I never talk about them in the press. I don’t have any social media, either. It feels safer that way.

“No,” I bite out. “He wanted to…” I gape at Zane, it suddenly hitting me that maybe telling him what Storm said is ill-advised. Maybe he’s someone I need to look out for, just like Melissa warned. Does he have a knife pointed at my back, too?

“Liv, what is it? Whatever it is, I’m here for you. You know that,” he says, and when I don’t respond, he moves closer, putting his hand on mine.

“Listen, set aside the…romantic feelings between us. Before anything—before business, before the valuations and acquisitions, I am yourfriend, Liv. You can tell me anything.”

Suddenly, I feel like an ass. Zane has done nothing to indicate that he’s untrustworthy. In fact, over the last several years, he’s been the main person who’s had my back. He’s been a cheerleader, a shoulder to cry on, a rock.

He’s my friend.

Chill, girl. Chill.

“He wanted to talk about the Keystone acquisition.”