Page 58 of My Office Rival (Keep Your Enemy Closer #2)

JASON

T he door thumped shut, and I finally turned to look at Cynthia.

The little glances out of the corners of my eyes hadn’t been enough.

She was radiant, but a little less put together than usual, and I loved it.

Her hair was wild, unbound, and her cheeks were pink.

That just-fucked look really works for her .

Sitting across the table from her, pretending that I didn’t know what she looked like naked, had been torment. But now, I met her eyes and her expression shifted to outright distaste. This is so much worse. Had I thought we were going to have a heartfelt reunion in this conference room? Idiot.

She opened her mouth, and I tensed.

“How are you, Jason?” Her throaty voice rolled over me, and it was everything I could do to not close my eyes in pleasure. Mild words when I thought she might want to throw things at my head.

“Good, I’m good,” I responded inanely. I stared at her for a beat. Plush lips, wild curls, flashing eyes. Everything I want . “So, shall we get to it?” Anything to avoid this crushing need.

“Sure, let’s talk business,” she responded acidly, before folding her hands on the table.

I fumbled for words. “So, if I go through my checklist, did you send a preservation notice to the client and the firm?” Do you miss me? Do you crave me the way I crave you?

“Yes, I sent one on the day we flew out from Booth.”

The day she’d left me. The day before I’d had woken to my empty bed and shouted my frustration to the rafters. I clenched my hand under the table.

“Great,” I said in a monotone. Don’t let her see how hurt you are. “Did your client agree to cooperate with the investigation?”

“Define cooperate,” she replied crisply.

Oh, she was pissed. You have no right to be angry. You walked out on me .

I casually propped my hands behind my head. This old combativeness, this animosity, now this was comfortable. Easing into it felt like putting on an old boot.

“Are they going to provide the documents we need, or are we going to have to drag it out of them? Out of you?” I asked. Do you wish I could drag it out of you?

Her eyes narrowed, and I was thrilled by her reaction. This was a game. Who would break first? I had decades of practice controlling myself.

“They’ll provide whatever you need. But I’ll be gone, so it won’t be my problem.” She sounded so smug, so uncaring.

It was a punch to the gut. I flexed my hand behind my head, imagining I was grabbing her and bending her over the table.

“Right. I forgot.” I think about it every day.

Her eyes glittered with malice. “You forgot,” she said coldly.

“Got a lot on my mind,” I said mildly. “And you and Gerald are willing to sit for interviews if required?” It might be the last time I see her .

“Depends on whether it works with my schedule.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and I saw red.

She was so ready to be done with me and never look back. “I could force you,” I said coldly.

“You would, wouldn’t you? Anything to win. Never willing to take one tiny step to compromise.” She shook her head. She’s not talking about the deal anymore. I narrowed my eyes.

“You’re the one leaving, not me,” I bit out. Because everyone left.

“For my dream job!” she burst out. She stood in a rush, her face tight with frustration and her wild curls shaking around her head.

“Your dream job that I had to convince you to take. You’re running.” At my words, her eyes widened. I’m going too far. A pit yawned in my stomach, the doubt and self-loathing threatening to swallow me whole.

“Fuck you, Jason.” She paced the room, shaking her head.

“You know, this is so like a man. You want me to give up this dream for you. For what? To stay home and be a housewife?” Her eyes cut to me and I froze at the depth of her anger.

I want you in my bed and in my life. Choose me.

For once, someone please choose me. My chest threatened to cave in.

“Not fucking happening,” she continued. “Nothing to say?” She stared at me for a beat, maybe two.

I was frozen, my pulse fluttering in my throat, like a rabbit trapped in a snare.

Everyone leaves. Say something. Say anything.

Her brows drew lower. She scooped up her papers and stuffed them into a folder with shaky hands.

Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes wet with angry tears. I was the world’s biggest jerk.

“Cynthia, I—”

“No.” She cut me off. Her gaze was steely. “I don’t want to hear from you. I don’t want you to text me. Even though you haven’t, and I keep hoping you will.” She gave a short laugh and my breath seized in my chest.

Don’t let her see your pain. Every schoolyard bully, every taunt, every beating rose to the surface. Every time I had shoved down my past and my anger and my pain. This was a road well-trod. The coldness protected me. It would do so again.

I stood slowly, my face a cool mask, towering over her, and shoving my hands into my pockets to keep from grabbing her. “Don’t worry.” I forced a lazy smile. “I wasn’t planning on it. Mr. One Night, isn’t that what you called me? ”

“I thought this was…never mind.” She shook her head.

“Different? You thought this was different?” It had been different. Special. Perfect. “Don’t kid yourself.” I let my lips twist in a cruel imitation of a smile.

She looked stricken and my gut twisted. This is unforgivable. It didn’t matter. She was running. She didn’t want me. Better to show no emotion, feel no pain. Push her out the door.

She backed away slowly and then whirled and left.

I sank into the chair and let my head drop into my hands. You’re an asshole. You didn’t need to do that . I hurt her. I pushed her away. Like everyone.

I needed to go for a run. I shoved out of my chair and out of the office.

It started to rain midway through my run, and I welcomed it, throwing my head back and letting the drops splash against my face.

My feet carried me almost effortlessly down the East River, faster, faster, until I felt like I was flying.

I never listened to music when I ran, instead preferring to listen to the breaths sawing in my chest and the even footfalls I made when I was in a rhythm.

And still I couldn’t forget her. You might never forget her .

She might have been the one . How quickly things turned to shit.

The deal was fucked and my origination credit was gone.

Two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars down the drain.

I wanted to scream into the wind coming off the river.

That meant a year, maybe two, at the firm?

Fuck . A year or two of late nights, the ever-present fear of discovery, coming home alone, except for the occasional woman I met on the app.

And how could that compare to what I’d had with Cynthia?

It couldn’t . Those were casual fucks. She was the first woman who’d ever slept in my arms. For the first time in years, I had slept through the night.

I pictured a faceless woman taking her place. My stomach roiled.

Stop thinking about her. Stop tormenting yourself. Every footfall chastised me as I tried to outrun the pain. I returned to my apartment, the emptiness yawning. I showered and thought of her and my fucked-up life. I toweled dry and thought of her. This has to stop . I texted Miles and Jonah.

Jonah

I need a break. Gotta get out of my head.

Miles

Want to go upstate this weekend?

Jonah

Did you just invite yourself to my house?

Jason

Let’s do it. Which one of you is driving?

Jonah drove like a bat out of hell and took turns with speed that had me clutching the handles. Miles was marginally better, except he had horrible taste in music and insisted that it was “driver’s choice.”

Jonah

My house. I’m driving.

Jason

Hopefully we survive to see the house.

Miles

What’s going on with you? More texts?

Jason

It’s her. I’ll tell you about it at the house.

Jonah

I have updates for you on the search.