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But I had my Astor pride, and the pain speared through me in waves that threatened to knock me off my feet. I clenched my jaw, and waiting for my latest flareup to pass, focused on studying his reflection on the glass.
The small, vertical scar that split his eyebrow and slashed his upper cheek on the left side of his face had been freshly stitched the last time I saw him. In spite of it, he continued to be the most handsome, attractive, arrogant son of a bitch I’d ever laid eyes on.
The sight of the scar revived the sorrow that sat in my chest, a constant weight that had never lifted. It reminded me of what we’d had before he fell out of love with me. The wound had thankfully spared his eye, but not my heart. It had marked him physically and maimed me emotionally. It was a symbol of the dividing line that separated happier times from my miserable life now.
Even though he was only five years older than me, strands of silver glinted platinum under the lights, gleaming within his brown hair. The pain relented for a moment. A sweet but treacherous memory stole into my mind.
I’d witnessed his first grays pop up while he was still in his early twenties. They had arrived early to his life and lent him his unique brand of hot and sexy gravitas. Laying naked on a bed of blankets in our secret spot, running my fingers through his short hair under the light of the stars, with my soul brimming with his love and my body sated, I’d teased him. I’d joked that, since I was the one who’d given him all of those grays, he wasmysilver fox.
With a flash of white teeth, he’d agreed on both counts.
How young, happy, and hopeful we’d been. How stupid, naïve, and pliable I’d been.
My pain ramped up. I dug my teeth into my lip. Another glance showed me Dash’s forehead furrowed as he scrutinized me. He took one more step toward me.
“Don’t,” I repeated, knowing that, if he touched me, my weaknesses would bubble up to the surface and my strength would dissolve beneath his touch.
I couldn’t afford to break down. Not now. Especially not in front of Dashiell Dagger, the man who’d built me only to destroy me. He’d betrayed me. There was no going back.
Braced on the window casing, I willed myself to process the facts. My father had dropped dead in his office after a contentious board meeting. The coroner had concluded that his cause of death was a heart attack. Since Father passed, I’d been swamped, going on automatic, making thousands of difficult decisions each day. I hadn’t had cause or time to question the coroner’s conclusion. Until Dash showed up, stopped time, and forced me to see through the fog dulling my senses.
Heart disease was a silent killer, but my father had been the picture of health until the very moment he died. He’d had no history of heart problems, was in the care of the best doctors in the world, and had just aced a comprehensive physical last month for life insurance purposes. A heart attack was always a possibility, but had he really died from cardiac arrest?
“Did you—?” I winced, struggling to conceal another surge of pain and forcing my words out. “Did you just say that Father was murdered?”
“Yes.”
The certainty in Dash’s voice stoked the flames consuming my stomach. If he was here, in this building, making these allegations, he had proof.Conclusiveproof.
My father had lots of enemies. Many of them would benefit from his death. The pain in my stomach spiked.
Shit. Not now.
I was strong. I was capable. I could handle the crap raining on me by the gallons. I shut my eyes, settled my forehead against the cold pane, and, willing the pain to go away, considered the emotional rollercoaster that had me facing off with my lover-turned-nemesis.
I reminded myself that Dash wasn’t here because he lovedme. The notion had been a fleeting, stupid, wishful thought on my part, an insidious hope that had crept into my thoughts when I found out that he’d demanded to meet with me right away. As soon as I’d felt the sting of hope, I’d quashed it, and yet it irked me to no end that I’d immediately cut short my meetings in Philadelphia to fly back to see him.
The last time I’d seen Dash had been after Nix’s memorial service at my father’s Fifth Avenue penthouse. Father had chosen that miserable day to tell me the truth and end my life as I knew it. After that, the meeting we’d had with Dash ended us.
Another bolt of pain wrenched me out of the past. Time to face the facts and get Dash out of my life for good. Drama had never been Dash’s style. I’d known the man had something important to say. But murder? No, I hadn’t expected that.
“Tell me.” I turned around to face him, leaning my hips against the window sill to stay upright. “How do you know that my father was murdered?”
“I got a tip and looked into it,” he stated succinctly.
“Who gave you this tip and how did you look into it?”
He eyed me wearily. “We’re getting ahead of things here.”
“Dash.” I met his gaze head-on. “Just tell me.”
His chest rose with a deep breath. “I got the tip from your father.”
“He’s dead.” I crossed my arms. “Stop bullshitting me.”
“I’m not bullshitting you.”
His earnest expression reminded me of the intense, solemn young man he’d been. For an instant, my heart softened toward the old soul I’d loved so hard and for so long.
