Page 65 of Fighting for Scarlett

For a guy who had spent a lifetime avoiding anything that even hinted at commitment, it was surprisingly easy to offer those things. His decision to not let a woman get close was his fear and resentment talking. Once he was able to shove those aside and see the good sides of love it was easy to let this woman in.

There was just something about Scarlett that called out to his soul.

Something he was done running from. Done hiding from. Done pretending didn't exist.

Another sneaked glance came from Scarlett as he scrolled through the files he was supposed to be reading. Prey had sent some to him and Scarlett for them to go through while they went through the rest of the suspects, since time was of the essence they were dividing to conquer.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked. Just because he wasn’t going to push didn't mean he didn't want her to know that there was nothing she couldn’t come to him with. However big or however small, he was there to listen and help however he could.

Her gaze skittered away, back to her own laptop. She was fiddling with a ring on her finger, something he noticed she did when she was anxious or nervous, but not when she was lying. It was a tell he didn't want to let on that he knew because he liked that there was a way he could tell that she needed him even if she wasn’t ready to outright tell him that herself.

“Yeah, fine,” she mumbled, although she was twisting her ring at a near-frenetic pace now. So fast he was surprised that it didn't go spinning right off onto the floor.

Turning his chair so he was facing her, Tate reached out and grabbed the arms of her chair, turning it, too, so they were facing one another. Wanting to push her just enough to remind her she was safe here, that he wanted to be her safe place, but not so hard that he got her to shut down completely, he tugged her chair a little closer.

“Something is bothering you,” he stated, trying not to let on just how badly he wanted her to be able to trust him. Telling himself that trust had to be earned was easier than actually living it. But there was no way he could just wipe away the pain he’d caused her. He had to work to prove to her that he could be trustworthy and dependable. Patience. That’s what he needed to have. Not his strong suit but Scarlett was worth the effort.

“I … it’s just … umm …” she stammered as he waited her out. He wanted her trust, but he wanted it given freely because it was real, not forced and fake.

So, he waited.

And waited.

Then was rewarded with Scarlett’s nervous gaze shifting back to meet his. “Do you think … less of me?”

“Less of you? Why would I?” He wasn’t following where she was going with this. There was nothing about Scarlett that didn't make him think she was the most amazing, strong, and determined woman he’d ever met.

“Because of umm … what I told you last night.”

He was still not quite sure what she was getting at. “About the drug you were given?”

A shaky nod. “I begged, Tate. Begged. For them to touch me. I hated the thought, but I was so desperate for something to release that need clawing inside me. If you hadn't rescued me, I would have eventually caved and given him what he wanted to know.” There was so much guilt and pain in her eyes that he couldn’t not reach out to her.

Scooping her up, he settled her in his lap. “Sweetheart, that’s the goal of torture. To break you. Almost every single person in the world, regardless of their training, is going to eventually break under that much pressure.”

“I hate that I begged those disgusting men to touch me,” she whispered, pressing her face against his neck.

He could not take away that experience no matter how much he wanted to. All he could do was be here to help Scarlett deal with the fallout. “You did the only thing your body could in the moment. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of, Scarlett. Nothing. Not a single thing.”

“Then how come you didn't want to make love to me last night?” There was a thread of self-doubt in her voice he ached to soothe away.

“Because I was trying to do the right thing and not push you into something you weren't ready for.” Now, he was having his own major bout of self-doubt.

“You weren't worried about that before.” Scarlett lifted her face to look up at him.

“Before I didn't know the whole truth about what had happened to you.” As soon as he said the words he realized he had confirmed Scarlett’s fears that he did indeed see her differently now, even if that wasn’t how he meant them.

“So, you do think less of me.” There was devastation in her voice, and Tate hated that, once again, he had been the one to put it there.

Before he could offer reassurances that it wasn’t what he meant, that he didn't think less of her, he just wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to do something that would hurt her, her laptop chimed with an incoming email.

When she went to shift off his lap, Tate tightened his hold, keeping her where she was and instead reached over to grab the laptop and pull it closer so she could see what Prey had emailed them.

Only Scarlett’s eyes flew to his when she opened the email. “Tate, look,” she said, pointing at the screen. “The email, it’s not from Prey. Well, not really anyway. I think it’s from the mole.”

Shoving away his need to reassure Scarlett of his feelings for her, reminding himself that his priority had to be her life, Tate looked at the email. It was short, an address, an invitation to come and meet to talk, as well as a threat not to alert anyone else. While the person didn't outright say that they were the mole, it was the only logical conclusion, and he wondered if whoever was trying to sell the formula and set Scarlett up had done so under duress. That had always been a possibility and the mole wanting to meet could reinforce that.

“We have to go,” Scarlett said, already trying to scramble off his lap.

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