It was almost impossible not to. He was kind, funny, wickedly smart and just plain wicked. He’d discovered her secrets, gotten her to confess her fantasies—even the disapproving professor one. She was ready to come again, just thinking about his long fingers wrapped around that ruler. And now, seeing the photo of the rope coiled on his desk? She was a goner.
Sighing, she squirmed in her chair and tried to think about the situation as logically as possible. She’d changed her mind about wanting a relationship. Well, with him, anyway. She didn’t want one with anyone else. Just Rory. And Rory? He’d given no indication that he had feelings for her beyond shagging her and having her do math so he didn’t have to. She glanced down at his message, again. As much as she didn’t want what they had to end, tonight would have to be the last night. She wasn’t sure how much more her heart could take if it wasn’t.
A knock sounded on her door, and she quickly logged out of the blogging site in case it wasn’t Rory.
“Come in.”
Annie opened the door and stuck her head in. “Pay day,” she sang. She walked in and handed Tristan two envelopes. “And it looks like it’s bonus day for you, me and Clover. So glad you came up with the modeling idea. Now, I’ve got vacation money!”
“That wasn’t me. That was all Rory.”
“Well, he wouldn’t have come up with it if you hadn’t complained about stereotypes. So, thanks for that.”
Tris smiled and shook her head. “Any time.”
After Annie left, Tris opened the regular pay envelope and filed the stub as the check had already been deposited directly to her bank. Then, she opened the second envelope. And her blood ran cold.
She had to have read that number wrong. There was no way that she’d done fifteen hours worth of modeling. She checked the number again. Fifteen thousand dollars. Fifteen thousand dollars.
Without a completely clear thought of what she was going to do or say, she flung open her door, not caring that it slammed against the wall, the sound reverberating down the hallway. She stormed into Rory’s office, heedless of the fact that Jeremy, one of the programmers, was standing at Rory’s desk pointing out something on the screen of his laptop.
“I need to speak with you. Immediately.” She was surprised how level and even her voice was, because it was all she could do not to scream.
Rory glanced at the other man. “Will you excuse us, please?”
Jeremy looked back and forth between her and Rory and finally said, “Sure, man. Lemme know when you’re free, and we’ll finish this up.”
Rory nodded, his eyes never leaving her.
Tris stayed by the door, shoving it closed after Jeremy passed through it before marching over to stand in front of Rory’s desk. Now that she was in here, overwhelmed by both memories and the man himself, she had no idea where to begin.
“Is this about the message I sent?”
That simple question shook everything loose, and she found her tongue. “Oh, it’s about a message. Just not the one you’re thinking of.”
“What’s wrong?”
“This.” She held the check out so he could see it. “This is what’s wrong.”
His brow furrowed. “Is it not enough? You know I’m shit at math. I can issue you a new one.” He smiled as if that would fix things. “Just tell me the right amount, and I’ll get it to you, immediately.”
“By my calculations, rounding up for a full hour, it should be five thousand dollars. This check is for fifteen thousand dollars.”
He stared at her blankly for a moment then the beginning of horrified understanding slowly dawned in his eyes.
“Since I only did roughly five hours worth of training and photo work, I can only assume that the rest is for the time we spent having sex those first two nights. That matches up with roughly the times I left here.”
“Tristan…no.”
“So you’ve got ten more hours of me on film around here somewhere? Ten hours worth of work that I have no recollection of?”
He slowly shook his head.
“I didn’t think so.” Her hand closed into a fist around the check, crumpling it in her rage. “I don’t know what the hell gave you the impression that I was down with having you pay to fuck me, but I am not your whore, Rory Brecken. I have no fucking clue what you did with those other models or what you paid them for, and to be honest, I don’t care. But I do care that you apparently think that I’m the kind of person who would have sex for money. In fact, I care about that a fuck of a lot.”
His face had gone pale, and he continued to stare at her, that same horrified expression twisting his features.
She tossed the ruined check on his desk. “I don’t want this. Any of it.”
“Tristan, wait a minute…”
“Wait for what? For you to explain how this is all some kind of misunderstanding? Even if, somehow, you’ve rationalized it so it is, it’s still not okay.”
Her heart ached—both for how badly he’d hurt her and how painful this seemed to be for him. She shouldn’t care about his fucking pain, but some stupid part of her did. That same stupid, stupid part of her that gone and fallen in love with him.
“Unless you want me to leave, I’ll continue to work for Brecken Games, but I’m done modeling for you. I won’t do any other side projects for you, and I won’t speak to you about anything that isn’t tax or cash flow related. Do you understand?”
“Tristan, I—”
“Also, I’m taking the rest of the day off. Dock my pay if you need to, but I’m out of here until Monday morning.” She turned and walked out into the hallway, unable to care that some people were poking their heads out of their doorways, and some were just standing around, clearly waiting to see the freak show.
Grabbing her laptop and purse from her office, she pulled the door shut behind her, only to nearly smack into Rory’s chest. She turned away from him and started down the hallway, but he caught her arm, stopping her.
“Please, Tristan. We need to talk. I can explain—” The normal raspy sound of his voice mixed with his pain, and it just about brought her to her knees.
“Let go,” she said quietly but evenly.
“I promise, I can explain what I—”
She shook her head, her eyes burning with the sudden sting of tears. How had she fallen in love with someone who would do this? Who would treat her as if she was nothing more than someone he’d hired for his convenience? Which, given the nature of their relationship, was exactly what had happened here. She was an idiot. An absolute idiot. She tried to tug from his grasp, but he held firm.
“Don’t do this. Please.”
She closed her eyes and tilted her head back for a moment willing away the moisture. Opening them again, she met his gaze and whispered, “Red.”
His eyes clouded with anguish, and his hand fell away.
She’d never felt so empty and alone in her entire life.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The entire weekend after it had happened, Rory fought the urge to show up on Tristan’s doorstep and beg for forgiveness. Of course, he didn’t know where she lived. He could have checked her employee files, but that would have felt like a gross invasion of her privacy. He’d already hurt her enough. He didn’t need to add stalking to the list. Christ, he’d been tempted, though.
Instead, he’d settled for texting her. He’d asked for a chance to explain and apologize. She hadn’t responded. He’d explained and apologized. She hadn’t responded to that, either. He’d told her he missed her. Which he did. Terribly. His chest had ached from the sheer pain of not being with her and knowing he likely never would again. There had been no response to that, either.
Having spent nearly the entire weekend in his office working on drawings and animation sequences, he’d watched from his window as she’d arrived that Monday, head down as she’d entered the building, and he’d listened to her shut and lock the door of her office. He’d heard Clover and Annie enter and exit Tristan’s office several tim
es during the day, and he’d also gotten the cold shoulder from both women when he went to pick up mail and check the programming department’s progress with the expansion project. Not that he could really blame them. He’d hurt Tristan. Badly. And he hadn’t a fucking clue how to fix it.
Now, almost two weeks later, he still didn’t have any idea of how to fix it. He didn’t even know if it even could be fixed. But he was determined to try. Movement near his doorway caught his attention. As usual, he hoped against hope that it was Tristan, and, as usual, it wasn’t. Clover stood there, instead.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
He nodded, and she closed the door behind her.
“I wanted to let you know that the presentation is ready for this afternoon’s press release.”
“Great. Thank you.”
She fidgeted, twirling the end of her pigtail around her finger.
“Is there something else?” he asked.
She leaned forward conspiratorially. “If anyone asks, you had to twist my arm to get this info, but Tristan is seriously considering turning in her two week’s notice. There’s a good chance she might leave the country, so you should probably get on that, and stop it from happening.”
The stab of fear he felt was immediate and undeniable. If Tristan left, he might never have a way to make things right with her. He might never find a way to tell her he loved her. And, fuck, he did. At first, he hadn’t been convinced it was love, but as time went on, he realized it had to be.
It must have shown on his face because Clover pointed at him and said, “I knew it.”
“What?”
“You do care about her.”
“Of course, I do. Why would you think I didn’t?”
“I didn’t. Annie thinks you don’t. Because you’re not breaking down Tristan’s door to apologize and make this right.”
“First off, I’m trying to give her space and respect her…boundaries.” He’d almost said limits, but that could have provided more information than he wanted to share with Clover. “She said she didn’t want to talk to me about anything that wasn’t work related.”
“Well, then I guess you’re going to have to figure out how to make something work-related real, real personal.”
Well, that would be easier said than done. “And secondly,” he continued, “is there anyone in this damn company who isn’t discussing my private life?”
Clover tilted her head to the side as though she were thinking. “Nope. Probably not.”
He dragged his hands through his hair as an idea occurred to him. It wouldn’t solve the problem, but it might at least get Tristan’s attention. He looked up at Clover. “I’m making a last-minute change. I’m going to do the intro and show some of the new character concepts and talk about what inspired it. Then, I’m going to turn it over to you, and let you and Jeremy finish the presentation and answer questions. Are you okay with that?”
She nodded, eyes wide. “You hate public speaking. What’s going on?”
Truth be told, he’d rather chew broken glass wrapped in tin foil than talk to a room full of bloggers and journalists, but there were some things he couldn’t avoid. He met Clover’s gaze. “There are things that need to be said tonight, and I need to be the one to say them.”
A smile spread across her face. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”
Hopefully, Tristan would be, too. “I need a favor.”
“Name it.”
“Make sure she’s there. Tell her…whatever you need to tell her, but make sure she’s there.”
Clover’s smile grew. “I’m on it.”
“Thank you.”
“Just fix this.” She turned toward the door, then back around to face him. “When you two were sneaking around, you were happier than I’ve ever seen you. I haven’t known Tristan as long, but I do know she was happy, too. So, seriously, fix this,” she said again then looked him up and down and shook her head.
“Also? Change your clothes, dude. And take a shower. The shower’s not gonna help those giant bags under your eyes, but it might help something.” She frowned. “You look like hell. Not that she looks much better, mind you. But, yeah. Shower.”
He nodded, and she darted out of the room, probably to report to Annie, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He needed to pull his head out of his ass and figure out what to say. No matter what, he had to get Tristan to listen to him. Whether or not she accepted his apology would be up to her, but he at least wanted the chance to make it. He wanted the chance to explain how much she meant to him. What happened after that was in her hands.
After adding several more images to the presentation and typing up a few remarks, he checked the clock. If he hurried, he had just enough time to make it home and shower, change his clothes and get back here before the press conference started. Right now, he wished like hell he’d had the foresight to have the builders install a closet and built-in dresser in his private bathroom. At least, then, he wouldn’t have to go home for clean clothes. Sighing, he opened his door and stepped into the hallway right as Tristan was opening her door. She froze and stared up at him.
This was the first time in almost two weeks that he’d seen her from less than a distance of twenty feet away. There were dark circles under her eyes, the purplish bruises highlighting the sea-glass green color. It looked as if she hadn’t slept in days—possibly longer. The anger he’d seen flashing in her gaze was gone, and in its place was nothing but a wary kind of sadness. He’d done this to her. He’d hurt her so badly she couldn’t bear the sight of him.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she backed away, closing the door. The latch had barely made a sound, but the finality of it echoed in his heart.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Tris slumped against her office door. That was the closest she’d come to Rory in days. And it was too bloody close. All she’d wanted to do was throw herself into his arms. Which was beyond ridiculous. He’d looked as awful as she felt, and the pain and longing in his eyes battered her heart. She reminded herself about the money. But it didn’t have quite the same sting after he’d explained. She hadn’t responded to his texts, and she wasn’t planning to, but she had read them.
There was a part of her that understood that he’d made a mistake and completely fucked up. He’d paid her from the time she’d entered his office those days until the time she’d left it. He hadn’t intended for it to seem as though he was paying her for sex. He hadn’t paid her for any of the other times they’d been together, but the damage had been done.
If nothing else, it reminded her that falling in love with him was the stupidest thing she’d ever done. Seriously? What was wrong with her that she’d fall for a guy who’d not only sworn off any kind of romantic relationship, but also paid for sex—even if it had been inadvertently? But she hadn’t been able to smother her feelings for him. Instead, she sat around replaying every last detail of every encounter they’d had. And, instead of any kind of closure, she was left wanting his hands on her body, his breath on her neck and his words in her ear.
She thought about him constantly, and she’d come to the conclusion that the only way she was going to get over Rory Brecken was to get as far away from him as possible. She hated that it had come to this. Her job was amazing and so were the people in the company, but staying here wasn’t going to work. Maybe her parents were right and she needed to return home to the U.K. She wasn’t going to let them pay off her loans like they wanted to, but she’d posted her resume online and indicated that relocating wasn’t a problem. Whatever position got her away from here the fastest would be the one she’d take.
Clover burst into her office. “I need a favor.”
She tried to force a smile for her friend’s sake. “What’s up?”
“Rory wants me to do the second part of the presentation this afternoon, and I’m really nervous. I was hoping you’d come with me.”
The last thing she wanted to do was be in the same room with him, and he was bound to
be there—it was his company, after all—but how could she say no to Clover? She watched Tris with a hopeful expression, and Tris frowned. “Fine. But I’m out of there as soon as you’re done speaking.”
Clover’s hopeful smile faded.
“What?”
Fiddling with her hair, Clover said, “Actually, I was hoping we could go out afterward. I really want you to meet Jenny.”
Clover’s new girlfriend. She’d been trying to get Tris to meet her for days, but Tris thought a lot of it was an attempt at getting her to leave the house and actually talk to people.
“And, with you leaving here as soon as someone recognizes you for the math wizard you are…”
Tris rolled her eyes. “Guilt. The most powerful motivator of all.”
“So you’ll come out with us, tonight?”
“I guess.”
The other woman clapped her hands. “Good. I’ll come find you after the conference.”
Tris sighed. She didn’t know how yet, but she was going to end up regretting agreeing to any of this. Several hours later, she sat in the back row of the largest of Brecken Games’ media rooms, listening to the intro music to Dark Soul’s Night and watching images of herself, Clover and Annie flashing up on the screen. They were modified, and people who didn’t know them likely wouldn’t recognize them, but she could tell. She flashed back to that first night when she’d entered Rory’s office and found him intently sketching her. Shoving away the memory, she focused on the stage. And immediately regretted it. Rory stood next to a table where Clover and Jeremy sat, and adjusted the microphone on his headset.
“Good afternoon, and welcome to Brecken Games.”
He was hiding it, but she knew him well enough to know he was uncomfortable. Whatever. She refused to be concerned about him. She couldn’t believe she had to sit through Rory’s part of the presentation. God, just listening to his voice sent all her nerves rioting. She’d tuned out everything he’d said after his welcome, but somehow the words, “tell you all about the inspiration for the character diversification” sank into her consciousness, and her head whipped toward the stage to find his eyes on her. Even from that distance, his gaze was a palpable thing. He looked away from her and addressed the room at large.
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