And even if there had been an investigator on the road that night tailing her, someone that Amanda had been trying to escape, wouldn’t it still be an accident? It wasn’t like the P.I. had tried to run her off the road. It wasn’t like he’d meant for this to happen.
Donovan was taking too much of this on himself.
And the more I thought about it, the more I understood how he felt—I really did. Death did that, skewed things, built nests of guilt out of twigs of misdeeds and neglect. When my father died, and I’d been across the country at Harvard, I’d blamed myself for not being around. If I had been there to help carry the burden of raising Audrey earlier, maybe he wouldn’t have felt so much pressure. Maybe he wouldn’t have had the heart attack that had killed him.
I did blame myself. A lot of the time, at first. It didn’t mean I’d actually killed him. And even though Donovan had been overzealous in his passion, he hadn’t actually killed Amanda.
Maybe no one had ever told him that before.
I looked up to find Donovan watching me with hawk eyes, probably trying to read my mind. “I know you feel responsible, but this wasn’t—”
He cut me off. “This wasn’t my fault? I paid that driver to be there. I told him not to lose her. I told him to be aggressive.”
My heart pinched. All these years he’d been holding this inside. Been carrying this weight himself.
I shifted so I was facing him with my entire body. “Donovan…” I said gently, tenderly, wishing I could take his pain away.
“And it won’t happen again,” he stated emphatically. “Do you see now? How I can’t let it happen? How I won’t be that person again?”
I couldn’t stand it anymore. I jumped up and ran to him. “You can’t do this to yourself.” I threw myself against him, running my hand over his chest. “You can’t keep holding yourself hostage over something that happened over ten years ago. It was an accident.”
He refused to hold me in return. Refused to even touch me. “It wasn’t an accident. It was my fault. She’s dead because I loved her.”
I reached up to cup his cheek. “You can’t spend the rest of your life punishing yourself for something that you didn’t intend to happen. You can’t spend the rest of your life alone.”
He stepped back, pushing me off of him. “I’m not punishing myself for anything.” His expression was hard, his tone harder. “I’m making sure that no one else gets hurt. I’m keeping yo—” He cut himself off. “I’m keeping others safe. Like I should have kept her safe.”
We stared at each other, unmoving. We were at a strange stalemate. In simple terms, I wanted something that he refused to give. If it were really that simple, I could walk away. I could recognize the futility of fighting for him and walk the hell away.
But it wasn’t that easy. It was thread upon thread of complicated, so many strands between us that wove us together. Even when he’d first taken my virginity, back when I’d been naïve and innocent, I knew that his broken fit my broken.
I ached for him now. I agonized for every day he’d let himself believe he deserved to be alone. I anguished thinking that he might walk out of my apartment without me changing his mind.
I couldn’t let that happen. I refused to let him leave without a fight.
But he’d already pushed me away, already withdrawn. There was only one way I knew to reach him.
“Donovan,” I said, untying my robe and letting it fall to the floor. “Touch me.” I approached him and wrapped one hand around his neck and rubbed the other over his cock, which instantly came alive under my palm. “Touch me,” I whispered again, as I pulled his mouth down to cover mine.
He hesitated only a few seconds before he tangled his fingers in my hair and yanked it until I moaned against his lips. Then he devoured my cries with his tongue, licking them up, savoring them.
Soon he began biting down my jaw and neck.
I pressed my mouth against his ear and told him what he needed to hear. “I know you’ve been carrying this weight around for so many years, and it’s hard to put it down because you don’t know how not to carry it anymore, but you have to put it down now. Put it down and let me make it better.” Let me love you.
His kisses slowed as I spoke, and by the time I’d finished, he’d completely stilled.
Then, suddenly, he yanked my head back again, hard. Harder than he had ever before. With his other hand at my throat, his eyes pierced into me. “Who could forgive a man for something like that? Who would want a man like that?”
“I would!” I cried, meaning it with everything I had in me. “I do! I forgive you!”
He searched my face, and for half a moment I thought I had him. Thought that he got it. Thought that we had a chance.
But suddenly the green flecks disappeared from his eyes and they turned dark.
“Well, I can’t,” he said roughly. “I’m not risking anyone, Sabrina. This is the life I’ve chosen, and I’m not changing it for you.”
Without another word, he pushed me away and walked out the door, leaving me naked and broken and alone.
Chapter 31
Monday morning I woke up with puffy eyes and a pounding headache.
Coffee and a long shower helped with both, but even though I knew makeup would fix the rest, I called the office and said I’d be in a couple of hours late so I could miss the operations meeting scheduled for that morning. I knew I’d have to deal with seeing Donovan eventually, but it didn’t have to be first thing on a Monday.
Though we hadn’t said it outright, I’d gone to bed knowing that the way our conversation had ended probably meant the end of our short-lived relationship. Even if Donovan intended to continue our sex-only situation, there was no way I could. I’d already fallen so hard. It already hurt so much to let him go. I couldn’t risk getting any more entangled if he wouldn’t give me anything in return.
In the morning light, however, I found clarity. While he’d been resolute in his conviction to not let anyone in, it was possible that Donovan could change his mind. I was pretty sure we’d already grown into something more than he’d intended, and now that he’d heard me—now that someone had finally told him that he didn’t need to keep punishing himself for Amanda’s death—maybe he could start to get over it. Things change. People change. I was mature enough to know that. After all, I’d been determined not to let him in my panties when I’d first started at Reach, and look how long that lasted.
Just.
I couldn’t wait for him to come around. I could hope, but I needed to be ready to move on.
Today was not that day.
When I did finally make it into work, I spent the day locked in my own office putting together summary reports for SummiTech. What better way to nurse a broken heart than to throw myself into work? Plus it was a surefire way to not bump into Donovan in the hall.
Late in the afternoon, though, I had to venture out to get Weston’s approval on a project and it required a physical signature.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, seemingly distracted as he flipped through the pages of the proposal, and two different people walked into his office to set things on his desk before he’d finished perusing it.
“It looks good,” he said finally, signing his name on the designated pages. “Can you email a copy of the projected expenses to Audra?”
“I already sent it to Barrett.” Barrett held a similar position as me, only he oversaw Operations and Finances. He reported to Donovan. “Is this a procedural change?”
“Just for the time being. We’re still trying to figure out how to reshuffle duties. I’m taking most of the load, as you can see.” Another employee walked in with a stack of mail and set it on Weston’s desk and then hurried back out. “But I’ll be out for the wedding and the honeymoon soon so I can’t take all of Donovan’s tasks.”
I was about to tease him for the millionth time about taking a real honeymoon for a fake wedding, but then I registered the rest of what he’d said.
My t
hroat suddenly felt tight. “What do you mean? Why are you taking Donovan’s tasks?”
He wrinkled his forehead. “Oh, that’s right. You missed the meeting this morning. I announced everything then. Donovan left for France today.”
I could feel the color drain from my face even though my heart was all of a sudden working overtime. “What? Why?”
“To take care of the merger with Dyson Media. With the wedding approaching, he decided he should be there to make sure everything happened smoothly. I mean, he just decided last night that he has to be the one to go, and that it has to be now. He must have sensed a change in the economic winds or something.”
“Just decided last night,” I repeated, my stomach knotting. He’d left because of me. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
Then he wasn’t going to give us a chance.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “How long will he be gone?”
Weston ran a hand through his hair. “Depends. He might just stay to handle the merger, which could be a month, two months? Or he might stay longer if he thinks that’s necessary. He has to read the situation when he gets there.”
He put his hands behind his head and leaned back, his eyes suddenly narrowing. “I’m surprised he didn’t tell you. I’m guessing that means things aren’t going well between the two of you?”
I turned my head and stared out the transparent walls of his office so he wouldn’t see my lip tremble. “There isn’t anything between the two of us.”
“Come on, Bri. Don’t give me that bullshit. That’s coming from Donovan, not you.”
A day ago I’d have agreed. Even that morning I might have confessed more of the situation to Weston. But that was when I still had hope that something might change. That was before I knew for sure that Donovan had no interest at all in working anything out.
I met Weston’s eyes and said sincerely, “It’s the same answer coming from both of us.”
Standing up, I gathered the reports I’d brought in and headed out of the office. Before I got out the door, though, my curiosity got the better of me. “Weston, when Amanda died, did Donovan ever say he blamed himself for her accident?”
He tilted his head, thinking. “No. Not that I remember. Did he say that to you?”
I shrugged. “I think it was just survivor’s guilt.” It was pointless to wonder about this further. “But…” As pointless as it was, I couldn’t stop myself from asking. “Did he ever mention working with a P.I. back then?”
“He had a P.I. look into the accident?” Weston asked, misunderstanding me.
I didn’t bother to correct him. I was already sharing too much of Donovan’s secrets. “Something like that.”
“Never told me anything about it.”
I nodded. It was my cue to go.
Except I didn’t go. I took another step toward Weston. “If I wanted to try to talk to the detective…” Maybe if I saw the report myself. Or if I talked to the guy that he had hired, I could better understand why Donovan blamed himself.
It was stupid.
Because even if I could find the detective—unlikely since I had no name to go on and it had been more than eleven years since he’d been hired—and even if he could shed light on the accident, what did I think I’d do after that? Fly to France and demand that Donovan give a real relationship a chance?
Laughing silently at myself, I dismissed the idea. “Never mind. This is an impossible task. I don’t know why I’m asking.”
I started to leave again, but Weston stopped me. “You know, if Donovan did ever hire a P.I., he’d have hard copy records. He’s funny about the Internet with that kind of stuff. Hacking and privacy and all that. Which is why he uses more cabinet space than anyone in the building. It’s annoying as fuck.”
Ah, something else I didn’t know about Donovan. There was so much I didn’t know. Why I ever thought we’d be a good fit was beyond me.
I forced a smile anyway.
“Point is, I don’t know if he’d have anything that far back, but you could check his files. Let me get you a code to his office.”
It was useless—I’d already determined that.
But what if it wasn’t? What if there was something to find?
I waffled for several seconds. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to overstep.”
Weston winked. “If he didn’t want me to use it, he shouldn’t have given me his code.”
Weston was right—Donovan did have more cabinets than anyone else in the building. But it didn’t take me long to realize that most of them contained standard documents for the office, so I didn’t spend much time perusing them.
It was the two-drawer cabinet behind his desk that interested me because it was locked.
“I don’t suppose you have a key to the small file cabinet?” I asked Weston when he answered his phone.
“Sorry. I gave you everything I got.”
“It was worth a try.” I hung up the phone and swiveled back and forth in Donovan’s chair. My eyes landed on a picture on his bookshelf—the same one that I’d seen the first time I’d talked to him in his bedroom back at Harvard. It was a picture of him and Amanda, an engagement photo, I remembered thinking.
This was the woman he’d been obsessed with. The woman he’d been addicted to. The woman he’d loved.
I wanted to see it closer. Wanted to see her closer.
The photo was on a high shelf, so I couldn’t examine it well where it was. I reached up on my tippy toes to grab it and bring it out for a better look. As I pulled it down, I found the frame was loose, and something fell from the back.
A small, drawer-size key.
No. It was too coincidental.
I was already laughing at myself, but I had to try it. I walked over to the cabinet and slipped the key in the hole. I turned it and tried the top drawer.
It opened.
It was wrong to look through his files—I knew that before I put the key in the lock. This wasn’t like Weston giving me the code to the office. This was crossing the line. This was going through Donovan’s personal things, and I’d pretty much convinced myself that I wasn’t going to actually look at any of his files. I just wanted to see if the key fit and all.
But once the drawer was open, the label on the very first file caught my eye. And now I couldn’t stop looking because it said in black, bold letters: LIND, SABRINA.
The folder was thick, and it definitely wasn’t an employee file. Those, I knew for a fact, were kept in HR. There was no reason for Donovan to have a file on me. So why did he?
With my heart pounding, I pulled it out of the drawer and carried it to the desk. I sat down and opened it up.
Inside, there were pages and pages of information on me. All kinds of information. My transcripts from college were there. A copy of my rental lease for my first apartment in California. Another document appeared to be an invoice from the headhunter who had found me my job at NOW in Los Angeles. The bill, it appeared, had been paid for by Donovan Kincaid.
There was more. So much more. Candid photos of me over the years. Copies of articles I’d had published in various marketing magazines. Receipts for security installations in places I’d lived. An itemized list of all the things the movers had packed up from my house and moved to New York City on Reach’s dime.
And then there were the papers regarding Theodore Sheridan, a slim stack of court documents that showed he was serving time for a sexual assault. The date showed he’d been prosecuted three years ago. There were invoices from the victim’s attorney. These were also paid for by Donovan.
It took me almost half an hour to go through everything in the file. When I finished, I sat back in the chair, my skin tingling, my chest tight, my mind buzzing.
There was too much to think about. Too many emotions to sort through. I didn’t know where to begin, and even if I figured that out, I sure as hell didn’t know where to go from here.
But, as messed up and confused as I felt, there were two things I now unde
rstood without a doubt about Donovan Kincaid.
Number one—this was what he meant when he said he got obsessed with women he loved.
Number two—Donovan was in love with me.
Epilogue
“Can I get you anything, sir?”
The stewardess was attractive. Big tits and blonde hair. Barbie doll attractive. Not beautiful like Sabrina. I’d never used this stewardess before. Flying last minute like that, I took what I could get.
“I’ll have a scotch, neat. Nothing else.” I added the last part, hoping she’d get the hint that I didn’t want to be bothered. It was a long flight to Paris, and she was the kind of woman who liked to think that meant it was okay to get cozy.
“Yes, sir.” She gave me the kind of coy, innocent look that only the dirtiest women know how to give. That one was going to be trouble. I was already planning for it.
To be honest, there was a time when I might have taken her up on whatever I was sure she was going to offer, though I preferred to be the one doing the propositioning. But I didn’t have an interest in it anymore. Not when I could still taste Sabrina on my lips. Not when I could still feel the weight of her pleas tugging at my chest.
The stewardess brought me my drink, and I thanked her with enough of a growl to set her scampering. I took a hard swallow, letting the burn dull all other feeling. Then I pulled out my phone and loaded up the only picture I kept of Sabrina on my cell. I had hundreds of her, sure, but this one I’d taken myself, while she’d been sleeping in my bed. It was my favorite. She was naked, the sheet only pulled up to her waist, but what made it special was that she was curled up in my arms.
It was the only picture that had ever been taken of us together.
If I wanted to keep her safe, there would never be another one again.
“We’re ready for takeoff, Mr. Kincaid, as soon as you are.”
I looked up to see the pilot standing in front of me, waiting for my command.
I wasn’t ready to leave her. I’d never be ready.
But I knew what I had to do.
Need you Now (Top Shelf Romance Book 2) Page 28
