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“Are you really sleeping with other people right now?” I ask, trying not to sound as broken as I feel. “Because you’re right. I certainly did not agree to that.”
He exhales sharply through his nose. “No. I’m not.”
I don’t believe him. Why would I? “But you obviously want to.”
Declan’s face hardens even more in the dim light of the storage closet. “And so do you.”
I snort. “Really? In what universe would that be true?”
“This one. The only reason you didn’t go out on a second date with that barista was because he got transferred.”
“Who, David?” I blink, surprised and thrown off by his words. “No. That wasn’t the reason we didn’t have a second date. It wasn’t because he transferred to a new location. I turned him down when he asked again because…”
The next words die in my throat as I fully process what Declan just said.
“How do you know about the transfer?” I demand, shoving against his chest. “There’s no way you can know about that.”
“Sure I can.” He holds his ground, his eyes glinting. “When a better offer comes along, you say yes. A door opened for that barista, and he walked through it.”
“You made that happen,” I say, and it’s not a question. It’s a fact. I’m suddenly seeing Declan for what he is: a billionaire with the money, power, and connections to make something impossible like that a reality. He didn’t like that I was spending time with David, so he literally removed him from the equation.
“You were jealous of David for going out on a date with me,” I murmur, stunned. “This is about more than just the sex. You wanted me to be yours—exclusively yours. Which means you actually must give a shit about me beyond the bedroom. Are you going to admit it?”
Declan releases my wrist—the sudden coldness of the air on my skin is the only reason I realize he’s been holding on to it this long—and steps away.
Both of us are quiet for a long time. I’m actively holding my breath until I can’t anymore, letting it out in silent puffs, when he finally answers me.
“I told you it was a mistake to do this,” he says, sounding defeated. It’s a new look for him, and I don’t think either of us like it. He swallows hard, then shakes his head. “You want more than I can give, Spitfire.”
* * *
Declan
Wounded. That’s what Sophie’s green eyes look like right now. Bruised. In pain.
It’s not what I wanted to fucking do.
The last thing I wanted was to hurt her.
But the last thing I’m going to do now is back down. The point I’m making is too important to ease up or apologize. This is a point the beautiful, fierce woman in front of me needs to understand. Maybe one that she hasn’t been able to grasp until now.
Fuck feelings. She can’t have them for me any more than I can have them for her. It’s not going to work. Not with me being her boss. Not with her being my employee.
And since she wasn’t willing to take no for an answer regarding this job, she needs to accept it about this.
I watch her come to grips with what I’ve told her. With what had to be said. Watch her green eyes go from glassy to dull. Watch the walls go up. Watch her carefully arrange the features on her face until no one could guess what is going on in her mind.
I know though. That’s enough of a punishment.
After what feels like an eternity but can only be a span of seconds, Sophie quirks a half-smile at me and lifts a shoulder.
“You’re probably right,” she says with deceptive lightness. “This was never a good idea.”
Goddammit it. I fucking hate this. Hate the lack of depth behind her eyes. Hate that I’ve done all this to her. To us. Hate how fucking necessary it is.
“Excuse me,” she says, looking pointedly at the door as she blinks rapidly. “I have work to do.”
I do the only thing I can do. The thing I have to do.
