KIRKLAND: A Standalone Romance (Gray Wolf Security)

by Glenna Sinclair

  I covered his mouth with my hand, emotion swelling inside of me. “It isn’t a face I’m falling in love with,” I murmured. “It’s a mind. A heart. A person.”

  And there it was. The swift realization of the fact made me realize it was true. I was in love with the man I was hurting the worst with my cowardice, and I was helpless to do anything about it.

  Chapter 17

  I wanted nothing more than to continue to kiss Roland, the tangle of wrongs inside of me be damned, but it was too sweet for me to deserve it. I had to pull away or risk losing everything. I couldn’t do this to him. I couldn’t betray the love that was rearing its head inside of me.

  “I should go,” I said, laying my hand on his cheek, my heart dying a little when he almost flinched away from my palm on his scar but forced himself to stay still. Why did he trust me so much? Couldn’t he see what was happening? This was going too far. The feelings I had for him were real, but so was the betrayal. Now that we knew we loved each other, nothing could be the same. Each time I reported back to Dan would be even worse than before.

  “I wish that you would stay,” Roland said uncertainly. “But I know why you think you need to go.”

  How many more pieces could fracture off of my heart before I didn’t have one anymore, just a bunch of broken shards stabbing me from the inside out?

  “If this is real,” I said slowly, “then we’ll know it.”

  “It’s real,” he whispered.

  “Then let’s take our time about it,” I said, forcing my trembling lips into a smile. “We’re not going anywhere. There isn’t any hurry, is there?”

  “I guess there’s not,” Roland said softly, pushing a strand of my hair behind my ear, caressing my earlobe. “I just…I supposed I’m afraid you’re going to go to sleep tonight and wake up and have second thoughts. Which is fine…it’s fine, if that happens. I just…I just hope it doesn’t.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen,” I told him, stepping back a little. “Not for me anyway.”

  “You think I’m going to wake up and feel any differently?” he asked, scoffing. “Okay, maybe I’ll wake up and find I love you a little bit more. That would be the only change I could foresee.”

  No, he might wake up and realize that I was the reason he almost lost business in Nigeria. That was what I was afraid of; both afraid of and wishing it would happen at the same time. If Roland realized the truth, he could end all of this before it went too far. It was already too far. However, if he arrived at the truth himself, and soon, it would be better for both of us.

  I just wasn’t strong enough to give it to him.

  “Good night,” I said, smiling at him. “Thank you again for the wonderful dinner.”

  “You’re cooking next time,” he reminded me.

  “Wrong. The crockpot is cooking next time.”

  Roland laughed, and I realized it was my favorite sound in the world. It was my favorite sound, and I was in a sweet, living hell of my own making.

  The next few days were a true struggle, and worse than ever before. They were wonderful where Roland was concerned—wonderful edged with terrible. His morning coffee and newspaper now came with a lingering kiss that made me tingle for a whole hour afterward. I felt as light as air working just outside his door, struggling to focus on the tasks at hand while knowing full well that he was probably watching me through the camera positioned above my desk.

  I liked the idea of his murky blue eyes on me.

  It was during one of these distracted afternoons when I was trying to catch up on my digitizing—the task I let go first if I was falling behind in other areas—and made a stunning discovery that allowed a few of the puzzle pieces still rotating in my head to fall into place.

  It was a string of memos I was scanning into the system, which wasn’t atypical, of course, except for the names on the memos: Sam and Dan. Some digging in the box I was working through turned up several more, and after a quick perusal, I realized she’d been Dan’s assistant at one point in time.

  That was interesting. With as much as she liked to talk, I was surprised that Sam hadn’t brought it up before.

  I set aside the memos and walked across the office, stopping to lean on her desk at the front of the room.

  “Doing anything for lunch?” I asked. “I’m in the mood for something greasy from downstairs if you are.”

  “Poor thing, hungover again?” she asked, smiling salaciously. “You’d been good for a while, always bringing your lunch and working at your desk.”

  The truth was, I’d been spending most of my lunches with Roland, inside his office, talking about both business and social topics, but I was glad the office gossip didn’t know that.

  “I’ve really got to back off of the drinking,” I laughed, shrugging. “Hangovers now aren’t those painless things I had back in college. These are real.”

  “They only get worse,” she confided. “I swear, I had one after two glasses of wine the other night.”

  “No,” I hissed.

  “Let’s go right now and put you out of your misery,” she said. “Anything to wrap up before we head down?”

  I glanced across the office, back toward my desk. Roland would expect me for lunch, as had become our habit, but I was sure he’d understand.

  “No, please, let’s get a cheeseburger immediately,” I moaned, and we were off to the cafeteria.

  Once we were down there, away from Roland’s cameras and the ears of our quieter coworkers, I got straight to the point.

  “So I was scanning in some interesting memos today, you know, as part of the whole digitization process,” I started, but Sam snorted and waved her hand in my face.

  “Boring,” she complained. “I want to hear about what you did last night to get hungover today.”

  “That’s just the thing; the memos weren’t boring,” I continued, refusing to be derailed. “They had your name on them.”

  “So?” She laughed. “Do you know how many damn memos my name is on?”

  “Yes, but these memos were from your time as assistant to one Daniel Shepard, our handsome young vice president,” I said triumphantly.

  Sam paled and, for once, had nothing to say. I blinked, surprised at the reaction.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quickly, setting my cheeseburger back down on its plate. “Have I said something wrong?”

  “No,” she said faintly. “You’re new here, and really, not many people know about it. I’d like to keep it that way, if it’s all right with you.”

  “Of course,” I said quickly. “Whatever you want.”

  “I was Dan’s assistant, but he wasn’t very nice to me,” she said. “He wanted to be president of the company, and he was always trying to get me to do things, like eavesdrop on people. That’s originally why I started working as the receptionist there on the beast’s floor—I mean Roland’s—Mr. Shepard. But then I told HR that I’d prefer to stay there as receptionist, not Dan’s assistant anymore, because he’s kind of crazy. It made me uncomfortable, and they smoothed it all out, and that’s that.”

  “I’m sorry for bringing it up,” I said. “Really, Sam. I thought it was strange that you’d never told me, especially since I’m Roland’s assistant. But I guess I know, now. I won’t tell anyone else.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “Now. Enough about that little bit of silliness. Tell me all about your wild night.”

  One fake story of bars and debauchery later, and I was marching into Roland’s office.

  “Dan’s tried to get control of the company from you before,” I said upon closing the door, carrying my laptop under one arm. We were about to have a conference call with contacts in Australia and New Zealand—the expansion into Oceania that Dan had wanted. We were both excited, but I had to figure this out.

  “And a good afternoon to you, too,” he said, his eyebrows raised. “Where is this coming from?”

  “I had lunch with Sam,” I said. “I didn’t know that she was Dan’s ass
istant, but then I saw it on some old memos I was digitizing, and she confirmed it. She said that he was always telling her that he wanted to be the president instead of you. Do you think he might ever try to do it again?”

  “Beauty, please remember that you’re getting your intel from the woman with the biggest mouth in this entire building,” Roland said, making a show of rolling his eyes. Yet, one of his hands gripped the arm of his chair, the tips of his fingers turning white with the pressure.

  “You’re paying me to use my brain, aren’t you?” I asked. “I’m asking whether Dan might attempt a coup again. You know he was behind the debacle in Nigeria.”

  “With Mason?” Roland frowned. “I got all of that sorted out.”

  “I know you did,” I said. “But it was Dan, right?”

  “He’s just trying to assert some control,” Roland said dismissively. “He wouldn’t try to…if he had tried that in the past, he would have better sense than to try it again.”

  Or he’d wait until he’d found the perfect weapon before trying it again—me, a person who had intimate access to all of the knowledge he needed. The burger didn’t feel good inside my stomach at all.

  The phone rang and Roland held out his hand to the empty chair across from him. I assumed the position and opened my laptop, trying to fight off the roar of panic in my head as Roland made the customary introductions and explanations with the executives across the world, trying to distract myself from the idea that Dan was trying to remove Roland from power. I focused on each and every word that was spoken, concentrating on getting it right as I typed. I didn’t want to think about what it made me to have the role that I did in this power play. I had been the most powerful piece to Dan’s arsenal.

  We’d been in the conference call for perhaps fifteen minutes before disaster struck.

  The door popped open and Dan walked in unceremoniously, not bothering to shut it behind him, the bright light from the office beyond cutting into Roland’s dimly lit space like a knife.

  “We need to talk,” Dan announced needlessly. He’d already made such an entrance that the desire to share discourse with his brother could’ve been left unsaid.

  Roland didn’t even say anything to the people on the other ends of the conference call. He simply pushed the button to end his connection and looked at me pointedly.

  “You should go,” he said. “I can tell this isn’t going to be one of our friendlier family discussions.”

  “I can’t say that I remember having a friendly family discussion with you, big brother,” Dan said, grinning, his tone mocking. “And I think Beauty here should stay. Maybe she’ll offer you some of that famous advice.”

  I froze halfway out of my seat, clutching my laptop. I really, really didn’t want to be here for this, for whatever was going to be said.

  But Roland heaved a huge sigh. “Fine,” he said. “But close the door.”

  “Beauty?” Dan held his hand out.

  I got up to get the door, but Roland lashed out.

  “You don’t tell her what to do,” he snapped. “You’re the one who came in here on a mission. You close the fucking door, you little shit.”

  “It’s really not a problem,” I said, my voice shaking. The fact was, Dan did tell me what to do. He told me what to do all the time. I took orders from him, but Roland didn’t know that. “I can get the door. And I’ll just leave you two to discuss whatever you need to talk about.”

  “Stay!” they both commanded at the same time.

  I sank back down into my seat, bewildered. Dan snorted at Roland before going to close the door to his office, and Roland raked a hand through his hair before shaking his head apologetically at me. I really, really didn’t want to be here. I had no idea what Dan wanted to say to his brother with me as a witness. Nothing good could come of it.

  “Say what you’re here to say,” Roland said, as Dan walked back across the room. “You interrupted a very important phone call.”

  “What, to your contact in Africa?” Dan scoffed. “We’re never going to be successful in Africa, Roland. It’s a fool’s dream. It just isn’t the right market. If you’re doing it to invest in a continent, you’d be smarter investing in the Red Cross or Doctors Without Borders or something. Shepard Shipments isn’t going to do a single thing for Africa.”

  Roland frowned. “I don’t know who your contact is, Dan, but you’re wrong. Africa is poised on the brink of an economic explosion, and if Shepard Shipments got in now, it would be beneficial to both that economy and our company. But I don’t have to explain it to you. It’s none of your business, at this point.”

  “You’re wrong there. It is my business because I’m the vice president of this company.”

  “And I’m the president,” Roland said, placid. “Which is the way it’ll always be. You don’t have the contacts, experience, or attitude to make the kinds of decisions this company needs its president to make.”

  “And you don’t have the face,” Dan retorted, angry. I flinched at the personal attack, but Roland seemed to brush it away as easily as if it were a pesky fly.

  “The company is ready to expand, and it’s going to expand into Africa,” he said. “You didn’t need to know that, but now you know. It’s a done deal.”

  Roland seemed so adept at shutting down his younger brother that I wondered just how often he had to do it. Dan’s eyes, darted around, searching, until he launched into his next diatribe.

  “If that’s your defense for Africa, then what do you have to say for yourself on Asia?” he demanded, surprising Roland yet again. “That’s right. I have eyes and ears, Roland. I know what’s happening around here.”

  “What’s happening is that you probably have your claws in some poor girl in Japan or Nigeria or South Korea and you’re pumping her for information,” Roland answered calmly. “It’s disgusting, Dan, really.”

  Or he could have his claws in me. Was Roland really blind to the fact that Dan and I had dated, that he could have manipulated me easily during that time and had? I was sitting right here in this room, witness to all of this lunacy, and all I could was watch and hope their attention remained on each other.

  “You need me to run this company,” Dan was saying. “You lock yourself away in this office, or up in the penthouse when you’re feeling extra sorry for yourself, and you rely on me to present a good face—or at least a whole one—to the public. Without me, there wouldn’t be Shepard Shipments. There’d be an ugly old man locked away in a tower.”

  “The only thing you are, Dan, is a face,” Roland said tiredly, and I realized this wasn’t the first time they’d had this argument. I didn’t understand why, but that revelation made me really sad. Roland had talked to me about this—one of his uncomfortable truths about his brother—but I still didn’t like the obvious fact that they’d actually fought each other about it. “You have no substance beyond what is on the outside. You’re not a savvy businessperson, and you’re not a great person, on the whole.”

  I didn’t want to be in this office any longer, watching two brothers tear each other down. I couldn’t do it. I was casting around, searching my brain for some kind of an excuse to leave, when Dan’s response froze me where I sat.

  “At least I’m smart enough to know who I can trust.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Roland demanded, as my eyes slowly crawled upward to meet Dan’s. His stare was boring its way into my head, and I knew this was where he was going to make his final stand. That day had come at last, the day when Dan was going to lay all of his cards on the table in an effort to wrest control of this company from Roland just for some twisted idea that he could do it better. He had no idea what he was doing. All he saw was something shiny that he wanted, not a goal he could actually achieve.

  He would burn this entire place to the ground if he thought it would benefit him in some way, and I was going to be a party to that.

  It finally dawned on me—and maybe I’d always sort of known—that Roland wa
s going to find out the truth of everything that had been going on, right underneath his nose. The only thing that was different was that it would be better—so much better—if he heard it from me. The blow would still fall heavily, and it really might break him, and there wasn’t a thing I could do to protect myself anymore, but at least it wasn’t a blow landed by his brother.

  “Roland, I’m Dan’s contact.”

  Now both brothers were staring at me, their eyebrows raised to an identical height. Had it not been for Dan’s beard and Roland’s scar, it probably would’ve frightened me just how much alike they looked.

  Roland gaped at me wordlessly, and I could smell the bullshit brewing in Dan’s brain, so I plunged forward.

  “He’s been blackmailing me for a while now, since that day I didn’t show up to work,” I explained, “the day I said I was sick.”

  Roland’s eyes narrowed, now, and his mouth snapped shut, but I wasn’t about to be interrupted, not when I was on a roll. If I stopped, the truth would never get out in the way it needed to.

  “I’ve been feeding him information about the conferences calls,” I continued. “Not everything, not about the new contacts in Oceania, but enough to keep him satisfied, to keep him thinking he was completely informed.”

  It was Dan’s turn to narrow his eyes. When he pursed his lips, I pushed myself to go on. The only way to defeat him was to turn myself in. I knew that now.

  “He was blackmailing me because there was something I wasn’t telling you,” I said, holding Roland’s gaze, unwilling to look anywhere else. I had to do this. There wasn’t any other way around it. “There’s something you don’t realize about the wreck, the one that killed my parents and your fiancée and Caro, my friend, the girl who was driving the car that hit you all.”

  I took a deep breath. It was now or never.

  “I’m the one who’s really responsible, not you,” I said. “You were just in the wrong place, at the wrong time. I’m the one at fault.”