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I shake my head, though what I’m denying I couldn’t say. He turns his face into my palm, his eyes sliding closed again like he needs it, like a drowning man breathing air again for the first time.
“Nic, you have to talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
He makes a quiet, pained sound, then takes a deep breath and a big step back, out of my reach.
“What—”
“I swore I’d never touch you.”
“You haven’t.”
The heat in his eyes when his gaze comes back to mine is a shock, skittering across my skin like a caress.
“You mean, you wanted to touch me?” I say. It’s only barely a question. “I don’t understand. I’ve been here for a year. You hardly look at me. You’ve never once said anything?—”
“What would I say?” His laugh is short, low, ugly, and utterly without humor. “You’ve met my father.”
My stomach tightens. “You’re not him.”
“No, I’m not, nor will I be. I refuse to become him,” he says. “Everything he said to you that day, I’ve heard him say to his own employees at one time or another. First, a secretary. Then, a couple of his personal assistants. A few of the first female department heads, even, before I learned to stay away. He’s been coming on to nearly every woman who comes through his office for years. Decades, from what I hear. I won’t do it. I will not be that man.”
He takes another deep breath, turning his back to me, facing the bookcases we’ve almost finished restocking.
“I’m sorry for being inappropriate just now. You have my word; it won’t happen again, but I’ll understand if I’ve made you uncomfortable. You can absolutely count on me as a reference, if you choose to?—”
His words choke off when I slide my arms around his waist and hug him from behind.
“All this time, I thought it was just me,” I whisper to his back. It’s easier to get the words out if he’s not looking at me.
He stiffens, frozen again for the single longest moment of my life. Then his hands come up to cover mine, gripping them in place.
“What about Finn?” he asks. His tone says “Back Off” in big bright letters, but I’m onto him this time; he’s trembling again, his hands holding mine tightly.
My face is pressed to his back, both seeking his warmth and shoring him up, but unable to show my face when I say the words out loud, giving him nothing but the truth.
“God help me, I want him, too.”
I’ve never wanted anything the way I want these men. The way I want them is different, distinct from each other, but so familiar it’s as though the idea has always been there, as though we were only ever all three of us headed to this moment.
Nic pulls free. I let my arms drop.
The office door opens. The police officers say good night, letting Nic know someone will be up shortly to help seal the door for the night. Once again, it’s the three of us alone.
A man shows up only a moment later with some plywood to prop up until the replacement door is delivered tomorrow. I stay busy—God knows there’s plenty to do—while Nic and Finn help him set it up.
The last two hours have put my life into dramatic perspective. The break-in scares me… of course it does. I know we weren’t in particular danger; whoever did this waited until the office was empty to take whatever they could find. Petty cash and my laptop, the latter of which would be easy to pawn or sell for more cash. But even with the weird, indecent, overexposed feeling it left behind, I realize we aren’t in physical danger.
But I also know that whoever’s behind this is escalating. I’ve heard enough true crime stories to know that’s bad.
I’m approaching a crossroads, and the direction I choose tonight is going to change the course of my life, one way or another.
I’ve never been attracted to two people at the same time before, unless you count Eric Northman and Bill Compton. Never in real life. Certainly never two people who were often in the same room as me. And I’ve never had feelings like this for somebody who I’ve trusted with my body like I have with Finn or to whom I’ve given most of my waking hours for a year, like Nic. I can’t even count the number of ways this could go very, very badly.
But what if it doesn’t?
Nic and Finn say goodbye to the door guy. I’ve managed to clear most of the papers off the floor, all of which will have to be sorted and filed some other time, because I’m too keyed up to focus on anything but the men in front of me. They’ve fallen silent, picking up stuff, making piles like mine.
“Let’s leave it. We’ll deal with all this Monday,” says Nic. His voice is rough.
