“Right. Not yet. This is killing me.”
“Try being me,” I murmur, enduring the rest of the ride by silently assuring myself I did the right thing, while worrying about Shane’s reaction.
“Finally,” Jessica says, as we hit ground level and follow the crowd out of the car.
“This way,” she says, linking her arm with mine, and leading me toward the garage, where we exit into the parking lot. She releases me. “What did you do?”
“Shane ordered me to piss off his father and get fired so that no one thinks I left because Shane is protecting me.”
She blanches. “What? Why? What happened to the whole ‘using you’ routine?”
“I don’t know. Something must have happened, which is why me staying is more important than ever. I’m sitting at the window, open to his enemies.”
She holds up her hands. “Okay. Okay. I have to tread cautiously here or Shane is going to hang me by my toes in some public place.”
In other words, she agrees with me, but works for him. “I’m not leaving,” I announce.
“Shane can just fire you himself.”
I shake my head. “Not anymore.”
“Once again. What did you do?”
“I told his father I slept with Shane, but that it’s over. I told him Maggie warned me that I was being used, which she did, by the way.”
“I told you that would happen.”
“Yes and it sucked but it helped me today.”
“This is holy batshit crazy.”
“I’m not even done yet. I told Brandon Senior I was afraid Shane would fire me and he promised me job security.”
“Oh my God, Emily. Major respect for you right now because that took courage, but Shane is going to be furious.”
The garage door opens again and my gaze jerks in that direction, finding Shane standing there, his expression hard and his eyes steely gray. “Speak of the devil,” Jessica murmurs softly.
Shane seems to hear her, flicking her a look. “Leave.”
She grabs my arm and squeezes before walking to the door, but before she exits, she pauses next to Shane. “She’s protecting you,” she says. “Don’t forget that.” She doesn’t wait for a reply—which I doubt she’d get—entering the building and leaving me alone with Shane.
He steps forward and I don’t know how, but without ever touching me, the man backs me against the wall, his big body crowding mine. Everything about him is big and angry. “What the hell was that?” he demands, his voice a tight band, ready to snap.
Quite clear on what “that” is, considering he just met with his father, I state my case. “You need me to stay. I have access to information that can help you.”
“What I need is for you to do what I tell you. No want. Need. Demand. Nothing has changed. Today is your last day. If you show up tomorrow, I will personally escort you out. Do you understand?”
I swallow hard against the hardness of his energy, and I want to argue, but I believe him. He will escort me out. I nod. “Say it,” he demands.
“I understand.”
He studies me for several heavy seconds, seeming to weigh my sincerity, before he steps back, giving me space I don’t want, my gaze falling on his tie to discover it’s the one I chose for him.
“Emily,” he says, a soft command demanding I look at him, and when I do, that connection is like an electric charge going through me, touching me everywhere when he is touching me nowhere.
“I won’t be the reason you get hurt,” he says, a vehement rasp to his voice. He turns and leaves, the door shutting behind him.
I swallow against the sudden thickness in my throat, and while his coldness hurts, no matter what his intentions, I remember two things only. What I’d felt when I looked in his eyes, along with him wearing that tie, tells me no matter how hard he’s pushing me away, it’s not the choice he wants to make. And if he really feels this is the right move, I’ll respect his wishes, but damn it, if today is my last day, I’m going to make it count. This good little soldier will leave here with every piece of data that can possibly help Shane win his war.
Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness. I am kind to everyone, but when someone is unkind to me, weak is not what you are going to remember about me.
—Al Capone
CHAPTER TWENTY
SHANE