Page 32 of Twisted Trust

She refuses to look at me. “Why what?”

“Why were you panicking? You were always in control of yourself. What changed?”

Her eyelashes flicker as she rolls her eyes. “Panic attacks aren’t a sign of weakness, but of course, someone likeyouwould think that.”

“Then educate me.”

“That’s not my job.”

She hasn’t lost her irritatingly sharp wit, at least. “You could tell me or we could spend the entirety of this ride with me trying to guess all the possible scenarios that would send someone like you into a panic.”

She glances briefly at me and then the door, likely weighing up her chances of escaping the vehicle against my own irritating tirade of questions.

She comes to a conclusion and her shoulders droop slightly. “It was a long day.”

“No.” What a half-assed excuse. “Long days don’t result in that.”

“And you claim to need education,” Maeve mutters.

“Tell me or I guess.”

Years ago, this would have been friendly banter that dissolved into tickling or a make-out session.

Now it’s a battle.

“I was fired.”

Oh. Not at the top of my list of guesses. “Why?”

“Because of you.”

Her head snaps around to face me and fire blazes in her gorgeous blue eyes, like the first rays of sun creeping across the ocean.

“Me?”

“Yes! Because of you, I got into trouble from maintenance last week, which is a mark on my record, and then this week, I just happened to piss off someone so rich that the hotel would rather fire me than risk losing the thousands he spends on rooms. Because appeasing fucking rich assholes likeyouis allthis city cares about. I’ve spentyearsensuring pompous fucks like you have the time of their life here, but that apparently means nothing once some fucker gets his wallet out and starts threatening to never come back! So yes, I blame you.”

There’s pain hidden in Maeve’s voice.

It surges up each time she swears, like each curse is a lock keeping her true feelings simmering beneath the surface.

She’s hurting and for some reason, she blames me.

After what happened in the elevator last week, there’s a chance I carry some of the blame, but if I’d known it would be an issue, I would have cleared that up with the hotel owner immediately.

But why do I care?

So what if she’s jobless?

That’s nothing compared to what she’s done in the past.

“You really think what happened in the elevator was the swaying factor in your employment?”

I can’t stop myself.

I’m pushing and snarking like a reflex and my heart aches at the sudden yet brief flash of hurt in Maeve’s eyes.

Then her expression hardens like stone.