He nearly ripped the painting from the wall as he opened the entrance to the secret passageway. To Chase’s office.
He counted the doors, stopping at the fourth. Grasping the handle. Knowing that whatever—whoever—was behind this door would change his life. Forever. He took a single, stabilizing breath, and opened the door.
He was right.
She was behind her desk, head bowed, writing, a stack of cards next to her on the great expanse of oak. Memory flashed—days earlier. She, on the edge of that desk in this white room. His hands and mouth and body on hers.
He’d rushed, thinking they were in Chase’s offices.
Thinking they would be caught.
Thinking she belonged to another.
Wanting her for his.
He was consumed by anger and fascination, disbelief and respect.
She did not look up from her writing as she heard the door open, instead waving a hand in the direction of the stack of letters at her elbow. “These are ready to go,” she said. “Is Bourne here yet?”
He closed the door, locking it in a single motion.
She looked up at the sound of key in lock, her gaze finding his, shock in her eyes as she shot out of her chair.
She was wearing trousers again.
“Duncan,” she said.
“Bourne is here,” he said.
Her brow furrowed, and it took her a moment to understand what exactly he meant by the words. “I—” She stopped. “Oh.”
“Tell me,” he said, and it occurred to him that the night prior, he’d spoken the same words to her, hoping she would finally tell him that she loved him.
Now he would simply settle for the truth.
When she did not reply, he repeated himself. “Tell me.” The words came out harsh, nearly broken. When she shook her head, he repeated himself, the words coming on a near-shout, “Tell me!”
There were tears in her eyes, in those beautiful amber eyes that he had marveled at so many times. He wondered what the tears were for—if they were because he’d discovered her secrets, or if they were because she realized that a betrayal of this size would be impossible to forgive.
That a secret of this magnitude changed everything.
She opened her mouth. Closed it.
“Duncan,” she whispered. “I was not ready for you to know.”
“Know what?” he asked. And he commanded her a final time. “Tell me. Say it. For once in our lives, tell me the truth.”
She nodded, and he watched her throat work as she searched for the words. Not many words. Three of them. Utterly simple and somehow tremendously complicated.
Finally, she met his gaze, unwavering. And spoke.
“I am Chase.”
He was quiet for so long, she thought he might never speak.
A dozen possibilities rioted through her, every one a question. But when he did speak, it was not a question, but a statement, filled with disbelief and awe and something else that she hesitated to name. “I was so damn jealous of him.”
She did not know what to say when he ran a hand through his hair and continued, “I thought he owned you. I couldn’t understand why you were so committed to him. Why you protected him so well. I couldn’t understand why you fell into my arms even as you chose him, time and time again.”
“I didn’t choose him,” she said.
He met her eyes. “You chose this place.”
“No,” she said, wanting him to understand. Wanting him to see. “I chose safety. Security.”
“I could have given that to you,” he said, the words coming out like rolling thunder. “Christ, Georgiana, I wanted to give it to you. All you had to do was trust me.”
“Why would I do that?” she asked, suddenly desperate for him to understand. She came out from behind the desk. “I’ve spent my life around dangerous men . . . and you might well have been the most dangerous one of all.”
“Me?” he asked, the word incredulous. “From the moment we met, I offered you help.”
“No,” she said. “You offered Georgiana help, but once you discovered her connection to the Angel, once you discovered that I was also Anna, you offered me a trade.”
He stilled.
She knew she should not punish him for it—knew she had done far worse—but she could not stop herself. Feeling defensive, she said, “Tit for tat, Duncan. And a threat to reveal my secrets.” She shook her head. “I was party to the deal, no doubt. But do not for a moment think I have not learned in all my years as Chase that business is not friendship. And that trust is not a part of business.”
“This hasn’t been business for a long time,” he said.
She knew that, of course. Knew, too, that this might be the only time she was ever able to tell the truth.