“Ivy. Get in.”
She wouldn’t look at him. She kept walking, hoping he’d go away but also perversely wishing he’d stay close. Wishing he’d somehow figure out what was wrong and tell her he was going to make it all okay.
Ivy knew that was never going to happen, but somehow, the thought of losing him completely was even more unthinkable.
She watched her feet moving along the sidewalk, refusing to look up to see what was around her.
After a time, she assumed he’d driven off and left her alone.
And then she bumped into a strong body standing in front of her. Looking up, she saw it was Cullen.
She crumpled, sobbing, into his arms, and he held her tightly. “What happened?” he whispered in her ear. “Tell me. Tell me and I’ll fix it,” he said.
That made her sob even harder, because it was exactly what she wanted to hear, exactly what she needed him to say.
Except that she knew she could never tell him the truth.
Cullen stroked her hair. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered. She could smell his cologne, and his scent, and she melted into him, relishing the feel of his suit against her cheek, and his hands in her hair.
His body felt warm and strong and real. How could he be capable of all the terrible things people were saying about him?
“I don’t think it’s going to be okay,” she admitted.
“Come on,” he told her, taking her by the hand and leading her to his waiting car.
She dutifully got inside and sat there, while he went around and got in the driver’s side. As he slid into the driver’s seat and shut his door, Ivy stared straight ahead.
Cullen began driving, not speaking for a time.
After a few minutes, he glanced at her. “Tell me what happened. Was it something to do with that guy you were talking with in front of our offices?”
She couldn’t believe he’d so quickly landed on the truth. Ivy shook her head. “I don’t…I don’t know what you’re even talking about,” she lied.
“Don’t pretend, it’s beneath you,” Cullen said. “I saw you out there having a bite to eat and chatting with that guy on the bench across the street.”
“Were you spying on me or something?”
Cullen shrugged ever so slightly. “I always keep track of those I care about. And yes, I watched you talking to that guy. I recalled you were with him at the bar the other night, too. What’s going on? Are you interested in him?”
“God no,” she muttered. “He’s disgusting. A pig.”
“That’s pretty strong emotions for someone you hardly know,” Cullen told her.
“I really don’t appreciate being cross-examined like this.”
“You sound guilty.”
She froze. “Don’t accuse me of things.” But the truth was, she did feel guilty, just not for the reasons Cullen thought.
Tell him now. Tell him the truth about Lucas. Tell him about the email. Tell him everything and be done with it.
She opened her mouth, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Lucas had gravely frightened her with his threats of retaliation if she spilled her story to Cullen.
Lucas worked for the government and he was telling her that Cullen Sharpe was bad news. How could she possibly know whom to trust?
Could she be dumb enough to go against the FBI? That would almost certainly ruin her life.
Cullen sighed. “It’s as if you want to make me angry.”
“I don’t,” she said, clutching her hands together as she watched the traffic out her window.
“Then why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
He sounded genuinely wounded, and it hurt Ivy to know that she was the cause.
“Lucas is a fool,” she said, finally. “He was just chatting about nothing,” she continued, hating the sound of lies coming so easily out of her mouth.
“But he’s interested in you,” Cullen pressed.
“I suppose, in a way,” she admitted. At least that had the ring of truth to it. Lucas was interested in her—interested in using her to get information about Cullen.
“Why are you giving him the time of day?” the CEO asked, sounding flustered.
“I’m not,” Ivy replied. She took a deep breath and looked up at him. “Listen, I can’t do this right now,” she said.
“You can and you will,” Cullen told her. “I need answers.”
She glared at him, her pain and sadness and fear transforming into anger. “How dare you,” she said.
He glanced at her, brow furrowed, cool blue eyes analyzing. “How dare I?”
“You want to grill me about my life and what guys I do or don’t talk to. Meanwhile, you’re a hypocrite.”
“Watch what you say,” Cullen warned her.
“You haven’t told me one thing about yourself, not one single thing.” Her hands curled into fists as she thought about it. “Maybe if you’d been honest with me about yourself, I wouldn’t be in this fucking position right now.”