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It’s an inside threat.
But anyone who’s breaking into my office is on a fool’s errand. My desk contains nothing sensitive, and my computer has security that would make even professional hackers reconsider their options.
Who the fuck is in my office?
It only takes a glance at security outside the door a moment before to see. Raven.
My brow furrows, and a deep crease settles in my forehead. What the hell is she doing? She knows I’m not there. I wait a moment and then one more for her to remember my schedule and that I’m not there. But she doesn’t leave.
It takes great effort to shut down every thought that comes to mind. I quickly change into some casual clothes, jeans and a T-shirt, before heading back to the office. The security staff give me a double-take. They’ve seen me after hours. It’s just theclothes that seem out of place. I give them a wave and stride with purpose to the elevator.
Raven Hill. What are you doing?Anxiousness has my hands clamming up. I clench and unclench them, waiting for the floor to ping.
The office is dark, but it’s the in-between time after everyone leaves for the day and before the cleaning crew makes their rounds. There shouldn’t be anyone here. In fact, it’s usually the precious pocket where Raven and I would be having our ‘review’ of the day.
That thought makes the blood in my veins run cold.
I walk silently, listening, and I don’t hear anything. I wait a moment, waiting to hear the clacking of a keyboard or a drawer opening. Something, anything. But there’s nothing.
I push my door open, hoping not to startle her but to see what the hell she’s doing. She shouldn’t be in my office and she damn well knows it.
What the hell is she thinking?
As I turn the lights on, she looks up, and I can see that her eyes appear haunted, like she’s being torn apart by something.
“You know we were meeting at my place later, so what are you doing?” I ask quietly, shutting the door behind me.
A million thoughts bombard me at once. Betrayal, confusion, denial, and even a tiny bit of hope that I’m wrong because I trust her that much despite the current scene before me.
“I always come here after work. My feet just kinda brought me upstairs,” she says, her voice monotone. She blinks, and a silent tear rolls down her cheek.
My heart races. She’s lying. What the hell is going on?
“What’s wrong?” I cross the room slowly, my footsteps on the soft carpet louder than they should be. Coming around my desk, I perch on the edge just to her side and force myself to assume a position of relaxation, crossing oneankle over the other and clasping my hands in my lap so I don’t touch her. Not until I know what the fuck is going on.
Because something sure as hell is happening right now.
You don’t know what it is, I try to remind myself, but the acid in my stomach is rising. Although I've been in this situation before.
She looks up at me, her eyes glassy, and for a moment, I think she’s going to lie again. It takes everything in me to sit still and wait. To have patience.
Then she does it.
Raven looks up at me and swallows thickly. “I went grocery shopping this weekend. Afterward, I always go to Goldman’s Café for cheesecake. I had just sat down when…”
She pauses, her chin dropping, but I can tell that her eyes go distant, like she’s reliving the moment she’s telling me about. “When what?” I ask gently.
She drags her eyes back to mine and says three words I never expected to hear from her. “Evan sat down.” She swallows thickly, and anger simmers inside me.
My fists clench on the edge of my desk, and I can feel the material creak underneath my grip. “What did he have to say?”
I imagine the worst—that she’s going back to him. I imagine the best—that she ripped him to shreds right there in the café.
“He told me that you have an email, one that you’ve been using to blackmail him,” Raven says. “He says you did the same thing to Olivia.”
“And you believed him?” I ask and then correct myself. “You believe him?”
“Yes and no,” she says with a shrug as if that answer doesn’t stab me directly in the heart. “I don’t think you would blackmail your ex. What you feel for her is too deep still.” Her voice cracks. “When you told me about her, it was pain and hurt in your voice, not hate. Evan? Yeah, I think you would.” Her eyes meet mine, and her lips tilt up ever so slightly at the corners. “But I don’t think I care. I think I’d blackmail him too if I had anything on him that mattered.” She licks her lips, like the ugly truth of the admission is bitter-tasting.
