His voice is low, raw, affected, and this, in turn, affects me. Perhaps more so because there is a hint of something in him right now that is not about me, but the family—his brother and mother, even his father in some ways—that he has lost. I wrap one arm around him, pressing the other hand to his face. “I’m not going anywhere but to our living room where you’re going to open your computer and write your book.”
“Allie—”
“I’ll let him do his job, Dash.” I soften my voice. “Thank you for doing this.”
He studies me a moment, his expression unreadable as he says, “Tyler wants you to come back to work.”
“How do you feel about me going back?”
His hand settles low on my back and he folds me close. “I can’t protect you from Tyler. That’s your job.”
In other words, he still believes Tyler wants to sleep with me. It’s my job to turn him down. “He wants me because he wants to replace her.”
“You said it. Not me. Let’s go home.”
He releases me and we waste no time leaving Tyler’s house behind. On the ride back to the apartment, I call my bank and credit card companies. Once that’s done, it’s done. And only a half-hour later, we’re in the apartment, and Dash locks the necklace in his safe.
“What did Tyler say about the necklace?” I ask.
“Not much,” Dash says. “But you’re right. He’s not happy about it.”
“At some point, you’d think someone would come looking for it.”
“Neil’s going to try to connect the dots between it and the sender.”
A few minutes later, we settle down in the living room, with both our MacBooks open. And I don’t go to Instagram, nor do I reach for the journal in my purse. Because Dash doesn’t seem to understand, that he’s my obsession.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
For the rest of the weekend, Dash and I tune out the rest of the world. I settle into the apartment, our apartment, and refuse to think about how temporary that might be. I claim my space in the bathroom, utilize certain drawers that are now mine, and take over a small share of closet space. How small doesn’t please Dash.
“You don’t have enough clothes.”
“I couldn’t bring my entire apartment to Nashville,” I remind him. “I have another closet in New York City. And when you live in New York City, you learn to mix and match, and use your space wisely.”
He grunts his displeasure but doesn’t push the topic.
We decide that as much as my mother’s waffles appeal, this is a good time for us to settle into us. We make breakfast together, workout together, work side by side, and then take an evening walk together. And we talk. That walk lasts until midnight because we just keep walking and keep talking. When we go to bed that night, I’m thinking about his remarks about not really knowing my past enough to fully understand me, which he’d made back at Tyler’s house. Nothing about that statement rings any less true and the idea that he doesn’t really know me is starting to burn a bit more than expected.
But the past doesn’t matter, I tell myself. No matter how humiliating.
I snuggle under his arm, and on his shoulder, and tell myself it doesn’t matter. But a little voice in my head tells me I’m wrong.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Before sunrise on Monday morning, Dash heads to the boxing studio for a weekly workout with an old FBI pal, while I’ll be heading into my own battle: my meeting with Tyler. “Keep the car,” Dash says, palming me the keys at the door. “I’ll jog to the studio.”
I blanch and recover with instant rejection. “What? No. I’m not driving your brand-new BMW again. It makes me nervous.”
He leans in and kisses me. “Yes,” he says, “you are.” He winks and with that, he heads down the hallway.
I take a step to follow him and halt. I’m still in only his T-shirt that I’d slept in last night. I sigh and give up. It’s a short drive. What can go wrong?
Forty-five minutes later, I’m dressed in my favorite black Chanel skirt, a black blouse, a red belt, and a pair of knee-high boots. I grab my purse to slide my make-up bag in and manage to dump it, just like I did the night I was with Tyler and his father. Jack Hawk had picked up that velvet box, opened the lid, and stared at the necklace.
“It’s beautiful. Why don’t you wear it instead of carrying it around?”
“It’s not mine. It belongs to—a friend. I told her I’d ship it to her and didn’t have time to get to it today.” The lie does not flow easily, but rather, like a lie—awkward and heavy.
He shuts the lid and hands it back to me. “Too bad. It would look lovely on you, Allison.”
I have no idea why that moment interjected itself into my mind right now, but it was strange, almost as if he was flirting with me. But I don’t think it was about me. Somehow that was about him and Tyler though I’m not sure how or why.
My gaze goes to the journal that is now on the floor and sitting open to a page. I stare down at it, determined not to read it. But it’s there, it’s calling me, and I pick it up, the words jumping out at me. I’ve never known a man who can be as powerful and confident in a custom suit as he is naked in his own skin. The thing is that all people see is that cold, hard part of him when I have seen beneath the man he allows them to see. I’ve experienced his touch when it was both punishingly erotic and then when it was a tender caress. I’ve seen that tenderness in his eyes, as well. I’ve seen vulnerability in him, too, that no one would believe he’s capable of ever experiencing. But oh, he has, he does. Why do they think his wall is so wide and high?
I see the gentler side of him and with that perspective, one day I woke up and discovered, he owns me—in every possible way. I can’t change that though Lord knows I’ve tried and failed. I knew he’d hurt me. I knew my feelings for him were a problem. In his defense, he warned me. He told me he wasn’t the guy you take home to mom.
I draw in a breath at what I can easily compare to the conversation I’d had with Dash that first night with him. And yet, I did take him home to mom. And she loves him. God, what am I doing with Dash? What are we doing? My eyes lower to the journal again.
I knew it would eventually transform from pleasure and mutual obsession to pain and not the good kind, as he would call that of our little games. The kind of pain that comes with heartache. I was right, of course. It’s happening. The heartache has arrived. I fell in love and I swear I thought he did, as well. I felt it when I was with him. And yet, today I will face him and know that last night he dominated me, had me every which way he wanted me, and I liked it.
Today, I don’t. Today is different. And I’m not sure either of us can handle that.
I shut the journal and do so with a twist in my gut. I don’t know where Allison is right now, but I know one thing. I wouldn’t blame her if she left Nashville. This city was not kind to her. And if Tyler did love her, why did he let her go?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I arrive at Hawk Legal with time to spare and am eager to get my meeting with Tyler behind me.
This is exactly why I exit the elevator and I don’t turn right toward the main lobby and my office, nor do I head to the coffee bar for the coffee I crave desperately. Technically, I don’t even work here. I resigned. Instead, I turn left and head straight to the doors that lead to Tyler’s offices. As usual, it seems, his secretary is not at her desk. Almost as if he runs her off or she hides from him. Whatever the case, her absence just makes this all the easier to work through.
I charge down the hallway, willing my racing heart to calm down. I don’t even know why I’m so hyped up. I don’t need this job. Okay, then again, if I decide to stay here in Nashville, I’m not living off Dash. I don’t know if we will even last and even if we do, I’m not going to make him feel his money matters to me. It doesn’t. That means I need a job and this job is a good job, and my duties are duties I feel passionate about. Suddenly, the dynamic of this meeting has changed. I’m not as in control as I once thought my
self to be.
Tyler’s door is open and I step to the entryway to find him standing to the left of his desk, almost directly in front of me, facing the window.
“Come in, Ms. Wright,” he states as if he has eyes in the back of his head. And who knows, maybe he does. He turns to face me, and I’m struck by how good-looking Tyler truly is, perhaps more so now than ever as the words in the journal play in my head: I’ve never known a man who can be as powerful and confident in a custom suit as he is naked in his own skin.
“Shut the door,” he commands, and it is a command. The man oozes in your face dominance, while Dash might have a dominant streak, he manages it in a far less intrusive fashion.
I shut the door and step more fully into the room. “You used me to get to Dash.”
“I used you to save Dash,” he counters.
“After you used me to punch back at him over Allison.”
He arches a brow. “Is that what he told you?”
“That’s what I’m telling you.”
He steps closer, leaving only a few steps to separate us. He towers over me, his expression unreadable as he says, “You used your job against me. That’s unacceptable, Ms. Wright. You are in or out. Decide now.”
I wonder if he’s trying to intimidate me, and I suspect most people would, in fact, respond accordingly. But I work for the Comptons in a business filled with the rich and famous. Not to mention, my editorial experience forced me to critique some of the most talented authors on planet Earth. My chin lifts and I say, “I will not be used against Dash.”
“In or out does not require commentary.”
“In,” I say. “I made a commitment. I’m passionate about the work I’m doing here.”
“And after the event is over?”
“Are you offering me a job?”
“You spoke to me about motivations. I’m simply trying to understand yours.”
Being near my mother, I think. Being with Dash. Being happy. But I say none of this. I stick with what is relevant to his needs. “Right now,” I say, “I’m here to make the auction a success but I’m not going to stay in your house, Tyler. Not after what happened the other night.” I hesitate and ask, “Could it have been Allison? Did she come back?”
“Allison wouldn’t have run away.”
I inwardly flinch at what feels like a jab, as if he’s saying that I’m running away, but I’m not. I’m here. I’m standing in front of him. And as for the other Allison, the journal tells a story he is not. “Not even if she thought I was your new woman?” I challenge.
There’s a tic in his jaw, a darkening of his eyes. “It wasn’t Allison.”
“You weren’t sure when I talked to you.”
“I’m sure now.”
“Did you talk to her?” I press.
“No. I did not talk to her. Go to work, Ms. Wright.” He offers me his back and then he’s behind his desk, dismissing me with words and actions.
I’m not as easily dismissed as I once might have been. It seems I’ve changed, grown even, over the past couple of years.
I follow him, stepping to the opposite side of the desk, but I can’t seem to figure out what to say. Growth comes slowly, it seems.
Tyler arches a brow at my silent intrusion while I battle over words and the wisdom of speaking that truth. Because you can doesn’t mean you should. That is a lesson I’ve most certainly learned the hard way. I want to tell him how much she cared about him. I want to tell him to find her and tell her he loves her, too. I know he does. I can feel it when I say her name, almost as if he quakes inside. But I can’t do that without telling him about the journal, which doesn’t feel right. I settle for, “I’ve been thinking about getting a cat so I went to the shelter where Allison volunteers.”
“You’ve been thinking about getting a cat? But you’re going back to New York?”
“Yes,” I say. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.” I shift back to what is important. “They haven’t heard from her, either. When I was there, a man showed up looking for her. He wouldn’t tell me his name.”
His expression tightens. “His name is Brad Waters.”
“How do you know who I’m talking about?”
“I know who is asking around about Allison.”
“Okay. So, Brad Waters. You know him?”
“I know him,” he says, but he gives me nothing else.
“What if she left to get away from him, not you?”
That ticking in his jaw is back. “Go to work, Ms. Wright.”
My lips press together as I bite back a more detailed probe. “I’m going to work.”
“Excellent idea. I wish I’d had it.”
I hesitate again but turn and head for the door. Once I’m there he says, “If you resign again, regardless of reason, I’ll accept it.”
I rotate to face him and when I would push back, he adds, “I can either count on you, through all highs and lows, or I can’t count on you at all. That is simply how it is and will be.”
There’s really no pushback to that statement. His house, his rules. I respect him as my supervisor. It’s the personal lines with Dash he crossed that I have a problem with.
I turn to face him and say, “Understood. I want to be here. I’m going to do a good job. And on another note, I can’t leave this office without telling you that I don’t believe she would ghost you, Tyler. Ever.” I turn back to the door but not before I see the jolt of pain in his eyes.
As my hand closes on the knob, he says, “Everything is not what it seems, Ms. Wright. Remember that. It will serve you well.”
There is a vibration to his voice, emotion he doesn’t quite check and I’m reminded of the journal yet again: The thing is that all people see is that cold, hard part of him when I have seen beneath the man he allows them to see.
And so have I, I think. And so have I.
I don’t turn around again.
I leave the office. And I do so with more questions than answers.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Once I’m in my office, I settle in and realize just how much I didn’t want to say goodbye to this place. I really am passionate about what I’m doing here. I’m helping a charity and therefore, helping people in need. I don’t think I realized how much I need that in my life. In a highly familiar, and endearing way, Katie pokes her head in my office with coffee in hand.
“Have I told you I love you?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “Nor have you told me you’re dating Dash Black.” She sits down in front of my desk and offers me a cup. “How did I not know this?”
“How do you know this?” I ask, accepting the cup.
“One of the girls saw you two together at Aldean’s place.”
“Oh yes, well we are, in fact, seeing each other.”
“My God,” she gushes. “He’s so good-looking. And talented. And rich. How did this happen?”
“We met on the elevator and he was helping me a bit with the charity auction. Plus, you don’t know this, but I was an editor at the publishing house he started out his career at. We didn’t meet then, but it was common ground.”
“You live a dream life.”
I blink at that. I live a dream life. Her perspective gives me some perspective. I’ve been allowing a bad time in my life to define my entire life. I’ve been blessed in so many ways, including my mother not just beating cancer, but her just being my mother. And my stepdad is pretty wonderful, too.
“You’re living it with me,” I tell her. “We’re at Hawk Legal doing great things. This is our life.”
Her lips curve. “You’re right. Too bad Jason Aldean is married. Maybe he’d walk in the door and marry me.”
I laugh. “Your Mr. Right will walk in the door one day. Be picky. Believe me, that’s good advice.”
Bella appears in my doorway, looking like the blonde bombshell that she is in a navy-blue suit dress. “Walk me to the coffee bar, will you?”
Katie rotates and waves to her. “Morn
ing, Bella.”
“Morning, Katie,” she says. “Don’t worry. I won’t keep her long.”
I’m struck by how sweet Bella and Dash are to everyone around them. No one would know how successful they are from how they treat others. Katie heads to her office and Bella and I walk toward the café.
“So,” she says. “Tell me about you and Dash.”
“You know about me and Dash.”
“I know everything is different with Dash since you showed up, Allie. And that’s a good thing.” She squeezes my arm and we step into the café.
“Everything is better with me since Dash too, Bella.”
“I’m so glad.” She places her order and as soon as we sit down, I say, “I moved in with him.”
“I knew you living in Tyler’s place was not going to fly with Dash. Good. That thing with Tyler was weird. Really weird.”
“There was never anything between me and Tyler,” Bella.
“I know,” she says. “But Dash needs to know, too.” Her name is called from the counter. “Be right back.”
She hurries to the counter and I smile. I really do like her. She feels like she could become the sister I never had, which is a crazy thought. I’m not marrying Dash. He’s not the marrying kind and neither am I. Bella rejoins me, coffee in hand, and says, “This Allison thing is worrying me. She’s on my mind. I think we should talk to Tyler.”
“Dash met with him yesterday and I talked with him this morning. He doesn’t know where she is. And Dash is hiring one of his old FBI buddies to find her, just to give us all peace of mind. I think I’m driving him crazy with my obsession over her.”
“I’m glad he did. I really am. That gives me peace of mind, too.” Her phone buzzes with a message. “Speaking of old FBI buddies. One of them just saved Dash’s ass.” She turns the phone in my direction and shows me a photo of Dash leaving the gym with his black eye in focus. The headline reads: Talk about keeping it real. New York Times bestselling author of the Ghost Assassin series, Dash Black, leaves the boxing studio with a black eye after brawling with a former FBI pal.
Because I Can Page 9
