Page 34 of Fallen Dane

Which is hypocritical bullshit since I know Dane has been responsible for an unknown number of deaths at the hands of the Ravens. It’s just another example of the double standards for men and women within our world.

With no other choice left, I’ve spent the last several days betraying my husband. And I fucking hate myself. I meant what I said—a part of me hates Dane, too. I don’t hate that I killed Gerald, but I hate that these pricks hold control over mine and Sloane’s lives.

It’s comical really that I’m losing sleep from lying to Dane. I fucking murdered my last husband, and I sleep just fine. My vibrator got a lot of use watching him slowly die, and I reveled in the power I had to write my own path forward. Now the risk of disappointing Dane Sinclair is what’s going to fucking break me.

As much as I might have feelings for Dane, nothing is more important than keeping my daughter safe.

So here I am, standing in Dane’s office while he’s gone to a Council meeting.

This is the eighth time I’ve snooped in here this past week. I started small—testing to see if he’d notice. For the first two times, I just came in here and pretended to look for a book. When Dane didn’t mention it, I hoped if I kept my visits short, he wouldn’t think anything about it.

I know he has cameras. So I’ve been careful, and I always have an excuse if he should find me in here.

I come in for ten minutes at most. I pretend to shop on his computer while I’m actually going through his files. So far, I’ve found account numbers for three offshore banks in the Cayman Islands and confidential files on each of the many Talons that Dane has the authority to deploy when needed. I wasn’t able to open all the files I’ve sent to Harrison. He can figure it out. I just want this to be done.

It will hopefully be enough to get Harrison off my ass and put this mess behind us. The asshole hasn’t bothered to respond to me yet, so I keep digging for more.

Dane won’t be home for at least another hour. The login information for one of his Cayman accounts is on the screen in front of me. Three hundred million dollars just sitting there, and that’s only one of the accounts. I take a photo with my phone.

The torture of betraying Dane this way is becoming unbearable. If I didn’t find ways to make him rough with me, I don’t think I’d survive it. I’ve been nothing but a brat to provoke him.

The worst part is that the more I make him punish me, the more affectionate he is afterward. For the man he is in front of everyone else, it’s a whole different side of him I’m certain no one has ever seen.

And I’m fucking addicted to him.

Who the fuck am I kidding? I’m in love, obsessed, and ready to burn the fucking world down for him. And I know he doesn’t feel the same.

So, I’m destroying any chance of happiness because of my past bullshit. Every single time I come into this office, I’m only making things worse. And if he finds out, who knows what he’ll do to me.

Every day I pay my penance by making him punish me. It’s the only thing that makes the guilt and fear of losing him bearable for a few hours.

He doesn’t know that every time he makes me scream his name, I’m silently begging for forgiveness I don’t deserve.

I close the financial files and pull up a shopping website, just in case. I let a few minutes pass, actually browsing through designer handbags so it looks legitimate in case he’s watching or checking my account.

After I purchase a bag I don’t give a fuck about, I close the laptop.

“Did you buy yourself something nice?”

I drop my phone. It hits the hardwood floor with a crack, and I go completely still when I see Dane.

He’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. He’s still wearing the suit he left in an hour ago. His expression is perfectly calm.

I’m shaking so hard my knees almost give out.

“I thought you were at the Council meeting.” My voice comes out shaky.

“I know you did.” He pushes off the doorframe and walks into the room. His steps are slow and controlled. “That was the point. I never went to the meeting, Whitney. I’ve been watching you on the cameras this entire time.”

Of course he has. Because I’m an idiot who thought I could spy on Dane fucking Sinclair.

“I wanted to see how far you’d go.” He stops a few feet away from me. “Turns out, you’ll go pretty fucking far.”

I’m frozen in place with my phone on the floor between us. My brain screams at me to run, to lie, to do something. But I can’t move.

“I can explain—”

“Can you?” He bends down and picks up my phone and sets it on his desk. The screen is cracked. “Please. Explain why my wife is in my office every time she thinks I’m not watching, accessing my computer, taking photos of my files.”