The Hidden Truths Series Box Set

by Brittney Sahin

  Yeah, sure.

  “Think about what we’ve talked about, and I hope we can make a deal. I’m sure when you see the numbers, you’ll be as excited about this as I am.” He faced Olivia. “Why don’t you get Connor a drink?”

  “I’m good. Thanks.” I angled my head at Lauren. “A word, please.” I left Declan’s office without looking at Olivia and waited in the hall for Lauren to join me.

  “Sorry,” Lauren said once she pulled the door closed behind her. “I should’ve—”

  “Damn right you should have talked to me first. Don’t ever go behind my back again.”

  She pouted and leaned a little closer to me as Declan’s office door opened.

  Olivia’s eyes rounded with surprise, and I moved away until the wall pressed hard against my back. Lauren’s hand fell to her side, and she shot Olivia a tight-lipped smile.

  Olivia tucked her hair behind her ear and moved past us. She had the wrong idea about Lauren and I. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” I was in no mood to have any type of conversation with her. My ability to trust Lauren was growing thinner by the moment.

  I didn’t give her a chance to say anything; I hurried down the hall in search of Olivia. “Wait up,” I called after her as she reached the bar.

  She turned to face me. “You and Lauren, huh?”

  I tugged at the knot of my tie, loosening it. “Not even close.” Not that I needed to explain. “Can we get out of here?” I needed to see how much she knew about Declan, to try and chip away at the façade of the so-called deal my father had made with Declan before he died.

  She cupped her neck with her hand, tilting her head back as she shut her eyes.

  “You okay, Olivia?” I looked over at the bartender, who was now pressing his palms to the counter and focusing on me.

  “I’m good, Bobby. Thanks,” Olivia responded as her eyes flashed open.

  The bartender kept his eyes on me for a moment longer as he slowly wiped down the counter. “Let me know if you change your mind,” he added in a deep voice.

  I tipped my head before focusing back on Olivia. Without thinking, I found my hand on her forearm. My damn hands kept wandering to places where they didn’t belong.

  She lowered her eyes. “We can go back to my place.”

  15

  Olivia

  “Did Sean decrypt any of the files from Declan’s computer?”

  “He thinks we should have something by morning. I don’t know if it’ll be useful, but we’ll see,” Blake answered. “How’d it go tonight?”

  I shoved both hands into my hair and leaned my forehead against the steering wheel while I thought about what to say. “I have a lot to tell you, but I’d rather do it in person. Connor’s on his way to my apartment.”

  “Why?”

  “He wants to talk.” Was Connor going to make a deal with Declan? The thought made me ill. If Connor knew who Declan was—really was—would he consider it? Despite our past, I wanted to protect Connor, but I knew I wasn’t allowed.

  Lies. Lies to get to the truth. That’s how it was supposed to work.

  As I turned off my car I remembered what else I had wanted to tell Blake. “Can you look up Lauren Tate? She was at the meeting, and my gut’s telling me that she’s more than just an employee at Matthews Tech. She’s pretty damn friendly with Declan, and pushing the deal hard.”

  “I’ll look into her.”

  “Thanks. See you in the morning.”

  “Stay safe.”

  I ended the call, shoved my burner phone in my purse, and hurried to the elevator so I could get to my place before Connor arrived.

  I halted when I stepped out of the elevator, not expecting to see him standing outside my apartment door. His back was pressed against the wall with his head lowered and eyes shut.

  “How’d you beat me here?”

  He pushed off the wall as his eyes flashed open. “I know the best roads to take—even after all these years.” He stood off to the side of the door, his eyes on me, and I tried not to inhale the piney scent of his cologne as I shoved my key in the lock.

  “Want something to drink? Wine? Beer?” I shut the door after he entered. “Tequila?” I teased.

  The heated look he shot me had my stomach doing somersaults. “Only if we use salt this time.” He popped open the top button of his silvery gray dress shirt. His tie was missing; he must’ve gotten rid of it in his car.

  “How about wine?”

  “Sure.” He followed me down the hall and into my living area. It wasn’t a big apartment—less than eight-hundred square feet. A tiny living room connected to a small galley kitchen. But what the apartment lacked in entertaining space, it more than made up for in bathroom. The master bath had a giant claw foot tub, and sleek gray tiled shower, which had a window overlooking the city. I was such a girl when it came to bathrooms.

  “Sorry my place is so small,” I said as I retrieved a bottle of wine from the rack. “Pinot okay?” I grabbed the wine opener from the drawer in front of me.

  “Sure,” he answered while coming up behind me. “Let me,” he offered, his breath whistling through the hairs on the back of my neck.

  A flash of heat tore through me. “Thanks,” I said, gulping. I bumped into him as I tried to move out of his way. The kitchen was too small for the both of us. “Sorry.” As I tried to get free, my hands found his chest.

  I could feel his heart pounding beneath my palms, and his gaze dipped to my mouth. “You’re in my way,” I sputtered before pulling my lip between my teeth. I needed to get it together. We’d been in my apartment less than five minutes, and I was already growing warm from the memory of his mouth.

  My body was betraying my mind.

  “Sorry,” he muttered and stepped to the side.

  My hands slipped from his hard chest, and I clenched them at my sides for a moment, pressing my nails into my palms, hoping to slow my heart and gather some control over my libido.

  He turned away from me, and I reached for the glasses. I heard the familiar pop of the wine uncorking. “Here.” I held out the glasses and watched as he filled the red liquid almost to the brim.

  “Rain.”

  “What?” I shook my head.

  “It’s raining.” He set the bottle down on the counter and tipped his head to the kitchen window. Water drops flicked against the glass, the soft noise becoming hard splatters as the rain grew more intense.

  “Guess we got inside just in time.” I left the kitchen. It was too small—I couldn’t breathe. I sank on the brown leather couch and stared at the table.

  He leaned his shoulder against the cut out framed entrance to the kitchen and took a sip of his wine. “I don’t want to lie to you, Olivia.”

  My head jerked up in surprise.

  “I came here for one purpose.”

  My heart thundered in my chest, and my body ached with the need to be touched by him.

  “Being around you is hard for me. But this is how serious I am about this deal with Declan.”

  Oh. I forced my shoulders back and tried not to shrink with disappointment. There was no need to be upset about the fact that he didn’t come here for . . . “What are you trying to say?”

  He moved away from the wall and slipped into the lone, tan chair by the sofa. He set his wine on the glass coffee table and rested his hands on his lap. He looked casual—even his lips were relaxed—this was new.

  “I want the truth from you. Should I make a deal with Declan? I want to turn this company over to my brother in a better condition than it was left to me, but I’m not sure if I can trust Declan.”

  You can’t, I screamed on the inside. “I can’t tell you what to do.” But God, did I want to. He may have burned me in the past, but I didn’t want to see him mixed up in this. Of course, Blake would kill me if he knew I’d steered Connor away from the deal. Hell, Declan would, as well.

  “Connor—” I cut myself off. I had no idea what to say. I wished he’d never walked into the nightcl
ub that night. “You run a billion-dollar company now. You need to make that decision for yourself,” I forced myself to say.

  He pressed his hands to his knees. “You’re right.”

  “But . . . I’d say to go with your gut.” What was I saying?

  Connor reached for his wine, and I brought my glass to my lips.

  “Why’d you lie to me?”

  I spit out my wine, and it sprayed onto my dress. “Shit.” I jumped to my feet. “What are you talking about?” Did he know? I racked my brain, trying to consider how he’d figured out I was FBI.

  “You should wash that out before it stains,” he said in a monochromatic voice.

  “Um. Yeah.” Relieved to have a minute to gather my thoughts, I rushed to my bedroom and shut the door behind me. I peeled off my dress, tossing it to the floor, and rummaged through my dresser until I found a yellow T-shirt and black yoga pants.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I lashed out at myself in a hushed voice as I stared at my reflection in the dresser mirror. I needed to get a grip. I wasn’t some nineteen-year-old, lovesick girl. I was a trained agent.

  “You okay?” A fist tapped at my door.

  “Yeah.” I swung open the door, and Connor’s muscular body filled the frame. His eyes shifted over my shoulder and to the bed.

  He propped a hand to the wall just outside my bedroom and tilted his head. “Why’d you lie, Liv? Why’d things go down the way they did?”

  The past . . . He was talking about our past, not the present. I released an inner sigh, and I ducked under his arm, exiting my room and re-entering the living area. “Your father told you, huh?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, if you had stayed around instead of running away to join the military, I could’ve explained.” He shot me an ‘are-you-kidding’ look. “Fine.” I shook my head. “Do you remember the first time you asked me out on a date?” My hands tightened into fists at my side. Not because I wanted to hit him, but because it helped me think—helped me contain my emotions.

  “Of course I remember. I asked you out how many times before you said yes?” The skin around his eyes crinkled as his lips pulled together into a semi-smile.

  I moved to the window and stared outside as the sky opened up before us. The rain slammed the city streets. “You and your friends were sitting near me at the bar. I heard you guys talking. I could tell you all had money. Your friends, Tim and Freddie, were comparing their expensive sports cars, and you—well, you were just looking at me. You weren’t saying anything. But I listened to them talk. I couldn’t help it—they were loud.” My eyes searched for his reflection—he was back in the tan chair.

  “And?” he pressed.

  I relaxed my shoulders but kept my eyes on his through the reflection. “I heard your friend Tim tell you to hit on the bartender—that was my sister, and you said she was too young for you. You only dated older women.” My voice faltered as I spoke, and I hoped he didn’t notice. “Well, if my sister was too young for you, then you’d never be interested in me. I was younger than her. And so when you asked me out, I said no. Not only was I too young for you, but we ran in completely different circles.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why you lied.” His voice was thick, cutting.

  I turned to face him, and his eyes focused on mine. His face was all hard lines and his jaw ticked, noticeable even beneath the stubble.

  “You wouldn’t give up. I figured you’d go off to grad school or something, not hang out in the city. Anyways, I told you I took time off high school, which was why I was only going into my sophomore year. I just didn’t want to let myself even hope there could ever be a world where someone like you dated someone like me. I never thought we’d last more than a few dates.”

  “Someone like you?”

  I swallowed. “Yeah. I was barely nineteen, poor, and had a shitty life. You were twenty-two and rich.” God, it sounded so pathetic, saying it out loud. But I’d been young and foolish. I was different now. Wasn’t I?

  “I kept coming to that club every weekend because of you. Hoping that you’d finally say yes.”

  “And I did.”

  “But why lie?” He scrutinized me, probably wondering if I’d lie to him again, right now.

  I lowered my head and stared down at the hardwood beneath my feet. “I thought that once you discovered I was so young, that I was only allowed at the club because my sister had got me a fake ID . . .” I couldn’t continue. I didn’t want to think about her. It hurt too much.

  I leaned forward and pressed my hands to my thighs. At the moment, I wasn’t a tough FBI agent. I was a young kid again, someone broken and afraid.

  “Olivia?” Connor was at my side, his hand on my back. “What’s wrong?”

  “I thought you would’ve at least come to her funeral.” I stood upright and stepped away from his reach, trying not to cry.

  His eyes grew wide. “What are you talking about?” He was shaking his head.

  “You don’t know?” How could he not have known what happened? No, he ran off to the Marines as my life spiraled out of control.

  A stabbing, burning pain bubbled in my chest, and I pressed my hand to my throat, struggling to breathe. “I’ve worked too hard to let you do this to me.”

  “What are you talking about?” he demanded as he moved in front of me and cupped my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

  “Jessie died,” I gasped as tears pooled in my eyes. “She was shot while bartending at the club.”

  “Oh God. I’m so sorry.” His hand dropped heavy to his side, and he took a step back and turned away from me, running a hand through his hair, mussing it up.

  “She was caught in the crossfires of a turf war between the Russians and Irish. I didn’t know the place was owned by the Irish mob; that’s how she got me the fake ID. I never would’ve taken it had I known . . .” My mind flashed to the night, and my body trembled. “I saw it happen. I was at the club that night. Drinking my sorrows away. And I couldn’t save her.” My voice cracked. “The club cleared out during the gunfire. She motioned for me to run before she ducked down behind the bar.” My beautiful sister. My only real family. Our bucket list had been extensive, and it included doing so many things together.

  “I’m so sorry. If I’d known—” He pulled me to him. His arms were warm around me. “I’m so sorry,” he said once again, his voice breaking.

  “A bullet ricocheted and hit her.” My body was shaking. The emotions pulling at me were too strong to fight. After years of bottling everything inside, turning to my work to hide the pain . . . I sobbed.

  He didn’t try hushing me. He just held me, rubbing my back.

  After I calmed myself and wiped the tears and black streaks of mascara from my face, Connor scooped me into his arms and carried me to my bedroom. He shouldered open my bathroom door and gently released me.

  I leaned against the counter, rubbing my arms, and watched him move to the bathtub and start the water. “What are you doing?”

  He glanced at me over his shoulder as he tested the temperature of the water and adjusted the knob. “How about a bath? I’ll be right back.”

  He came back with a full glass of wine and set it next to the tub. “I’ll be just outside in the living room—I don’t want you falling asleep in there. Take your time.” The back of his hand touched my cheek, and I sucked in a breath.

  “I’m sorry for—”

  His finger touched my lip, silencing me. “Try and relax,” he said in a low voice as his light green eyes held mine for a few long beats.

  He blinked, shook his head a little, and left.

  Once the door was closed, I retrieved candles and matches from beneath the sink. I peeled off my clothes in a haste after lighting the candles, turned off the lights, and rushed into the tub. I shut my eyes once the water swallowed my body, and I tried to ignore my brain’s protestations. How damn odd it was to be in a bath while my ex was just outside. And not just any ex, but a man I needed to
spy on—and possibly arrest.

  The pain eased up a little as my body relaxed. My thoughts drifted as I heard the rain pound hard on the streets, which were a couple stories below my apartment. I really hoped the case would end soon. I wasn’t sure how much more I could bear.

  A twinge of guilt poked my core. And then the guilt expanded to a gaping hole in my stomach.

  “Connor?” I called out, not sure what the hell I was doing.

  “Yeah?” he answered, his voice muffled by the door.

  “You can come in.”

  The door opened slowly, and I was grateful for the bubbles and dim lighting.

  Connor leaned his back to the counter, folded his arms, and faced me. He didn’t look the least bit skittish. In fact, he appeared comfortable standing in my bathroom while I was naked a few feet away. And his confidence turned me on.

  My skin flushed and warmth spread through my limbs. I wanted him. And God did it hurt. I stared at his magnificent body. He’d popped open a few more buttons, exposing his tanned chest and throat. His sleeves were rolled up, his shoes were off, and his jaw was tight. Resolute.

  I wondered what God was thinking when he’d designed such an amazing specimen of a man. Did he draw up some architectural plans first—carved, sculpted, chiseled . . . a little of this, a dash of that . . .

  I must’ve been more than tipsy, I realized.

  “Are you okay, Olivia?” His voice was low and gravely. I wondered why, but then I caught sight of his massive hard-on.

  Oh wow, did that make me forget everything. My knees popped up above the water, and I sat up a little more without thinking, my nipples lifting above the surface of the water.

  Connor pushed away from the counter and stood above me, his eyes darkening with lust.

  I wanted him, even just for tonight. I shut my eyes, trying to ignore my brain, which was shouting, “I can’t. I’m undercover. It’d be wrong!” But when my eyes opened and focused on his mouth, that voice grew silent.

  “Connor,” I said his name like a cry.

  The water raised as Connor, fully clothed, stepped inside the bath. I stared at him, part in shock, part in awe, as he braced the sides of the tub. Oh my God. I found his legs and my hands slid up his slacks. I shifted forward onto his lap.