Yeah, yeah. Like you care.
I stood up to follow after him, but when I heard the apartment door shut, the first thing I did was pick up the night cream by the side of my bed and throw it across the room.
Once again Donovan Kincaid had proven to me that he was a total asshole. It was not the first time. Not even the second time. Why, then, was I always surprised when he showed his true colors?
A Dangerous Devil, that’s what he was. A Dangerous Dark Warrior Devil.
After kicking a few things and locking the door, I took a scalding hot angry shower. I was angry as I washed my hair. Angry as I scrubbed myself clean. Angry as I erased every trace of Donovan from my body.
And it wasn’t just Donovan I was angry with. I was angry with myself. More than anything else, I was angry at getting caught in his trap. I was angry for caring. I was angry, because if I wasn’t, then I’d be hurt, and I was pretty sure that would feel even worse.
Twenty
I spent the weekend engaged in a teeter-totter of thoughts where Donovan was concerned. He pissed me off; he didn’t piss me off. I cared; I didn’t care. It was just sex; it was more than sex. It didn’t matter; it mattered.
By Monday morning, the conclusion I’d come to was that I was a strong woman who’d had dirty sex with a powerful man. It had been my choice, and I owned that. I was grateful for that choice. It had been consensual, and there was nothing to regret or be ashamed of.
What I didn’t own was the disrespectful way that Donovan had left, and that had nothing to do with me—that was on him. I refused to feel bad about it. He obviously had a fear of women growing attached to him. If he’d thought that I’d grown attached after one roll in the hay or that I’d misread the situation, he’d worried needlessly.
Or maybe he’d worried as he should. I’d thought about him for ten years after the first roll in the hay—if that wasn’t attachment, I didn’t know what was.
The point was, I wasn’t planning to cling, and if he thought I was then he needed to get over himself.
The only thing I hadn’t decided was whether or not I planned to say something about his nasty departure. Yes. No. The answer changed by the hour.
It would have to be a bridge I crossed when I came to it. Luckily, I didn’t see much of Donovan on a day-to-day basis without going out of my way.
Problem was, there were other people that I did see on a day-to-day basis. And, as I stepped into the elevator and found myself standing next to another man in a suit who was both my boss and had seen me naked, I realized I’d forgotten to consider how I planned to deal with Weston.
“Morning,” I mumbled, unable to meet his eyes. What were the rules of etiquette in this situation? Did I need to tell him about Donovan? Did I owe Weston a heads up? We weren’t together, but we’d almost made out just hours before I’d ended up in bed with his best friend. What was my obligation here?
While I bandied the two options—tell, don’t tell; tell, don’t tell—Weston fidgeted next to me. His eyes seemed focused on the dial watching as the elevator climbed from floor to floor when he abruptly burst out, “We need to talk.”
Oh, shit.
My options suddenly seemed slimmer.
Or, maybe I was jumping to conclusions.
“If this is about Friday…” I paused, realizing that wasn’t specific enough. “If this is about the restaurant, I don’t think there’s anything else that needs to be said.”
“This isn’t about the restaurant.” He couldn’t look at me either, I noticed.
“Oh.” My hands were sweaty. He knew. He already knew. Donovan told him, and he knew. “Okay.”
I took a breath.
This was fine. I’d tell him that I was planning to tell him today. He couldn’t be that mad. We weren’t a couple. He was engaged to someone else, for Christ’s sake.
The elevator arrived, and I followed Weston onto our floor. Might as well get this over with. “Right now good?”
He looked at me as though he hadn’t expected anything else. “If you’re free...”
“I’m free. I’ll just drop off my bag and be there in a few.”
I took my time in my office, checking in with my assistant, and trying to decide what I’d say to Weston. But I could only dawdle so long, and there wasn’t much I could think of to say except the truth, so it was only ten minutes later when I arrived at Roxie’s desk.
“He more relaxed than he was the other day,” she told me, which lifted my spirits. “But something has him on edge. Good luck.”
“I still hear you,” Weston called through the open door.
“Thank you,” I whispered to Roxie. “I think I need it.”
At least I looked good today. I’d worn something different than usual—a short black skirt and a white fitted button-down blouse with a ruffle. I’d paired the whole thing with stockings and black high heels. It was less of a power outfit and more feminine, more demure.
Ah, crap. Weston probably thought I’d worn it for Donovan.
Huh. Had I?
No way. I hadn’t dressed for anybody but myself. Most likely.
I took a deep breath and walked into Weston’s office. He shut the door behind me but kept the windows clear. Like he had the last time I’d visited, he sat behind his desk and invited me to take a seat in front.
And like the last time, I crossed one leg over the other and tried to stop the nervous tapping. Well, at least this would be out in the open once and for all. No more coming to Weston’s office and fretting about what he knew about Donovan and me.
Silly, too, considering that Donovan and I had already dissolved into a big fat nothing.
I sighed.
Weston inhaled. “Friday night,” he began, “after you left the restaurant…” He trailed off as though unsure how to finish the sentence.
And how could he finish it? You left the restaurant and fucked my friend and now I’m confronting you about it. Nothing he could say would come out politely.
I had to help him out. This was my burden more than his. He shouldn’t have to be the one struggling to come up with the words. “Things change, you know, Weston. Things don’t always happen the way we plan and—”
“I slept with Elizabeth,” he blurted out.
I actually had to replay what he said in my head before responding. “Uh, what?”
Totally not where I saw that going. Not even a little bit.
“I slept with Elizabeth. I didn’t mean to. And I don’t know where things are headed in the future, but I thought you deserved the truth.”
“I see.” So he didn’t know about Donovan.
Did this mean I had to tell him anyway?
“Are you upset?”