Page 65 of Speak of the Devil

“Forced proximity, you mean.”

“Tomato tomahto.” Something is so satisfying about using her words against her. Not that I find it a thrill to win, although I typically do, but that she knows I was paying attention.

When I reach Stuart, I turn around to see her scrambling to keep her skirt from blowing in the wind. I grin from watching her, from feeling like I just won the lottery with this second chance, and because she’s fucking more spectacular than ever.

As soon as she slips into her car, I ask Stuart, “Tell me again what she requested. I missed it.”

“You didn’t miss anything,” he says. “It’s a sealed document. We won’t know what it is until after the forty-eight hours.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

“Neither do I, but you already agreed to it, so it’s a done deal.”

“Well, fuck.”

He opens the door to the Lamborghini parked next to my Ferrari, making me realize I pay him way too much. He tosses his briefcase in the passenger’s seat, then says, “She guaranteedus it’s not financially motivated, and it won’t give her ownership of any part of your personal property or business. If you ask me, she wanted control.” He slips inside the red sports car. “I wouldn’t worry about it. What could she possibly want from you if it doesn’t pertain to getting a share of something you own or a piece of your fame?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s a mystery, but you’ll know soon enough.” I shut his door for him, not liking how wide it opens near my car anyway. He rolls down the window. “Let me know when you’re done with the forty-eight hours, and I’ll retrieve the envelope for you to open.”

“Will do. Thanks for coming out here.” You’d think I was asking him to travel to Barstow. It’s just not Beverly Hills.

“That’s my job.”

Slipping inside my car, I can’t help but replay what happened inside. Not the negotiations. That went as planned, except for the surprise Cat threw in at the end. The elevator was an unexpected development in the story. I chuckle, a smile working its way out from the memories. She probably thinks I paid someone to make that happen.

I shift into reverse and pull onto the main road with so much spinning through my thoughts. I got the days I wanted with her, but she twisted the plot right out from under me.What game is she playing?

The same one I am. I just wonder if her end goals are the same.

The ten months without her were brutal, but that’s what it took for me to realize what I lost. I came here on a mission because of the time apart. I’m also a better man for it. But can I be the man she needs?

I fucking hope so.

I’m still uneasy about the unknown, and she’s packing a punch with her comeback request. It doesn’t seem to pertainto financial gain. That makes it worse. Unpredictable. I would have given her anything she wanted—my pride and joy Ferrari, a million dollars to get the house she lost back, or my fucking house. She could have had whatever she wanted.

Instead, she’s going to hit me where it hurts. It only makes sense since I broke her heart first. And there’s a strong possibility that she won’t forgive me even though I’m destroyed. That won’t stop me from trying. Her forgiveness matters more to me.

Forty-eight hours. That’s all I have to prove I’m a changed man.

Me:

Hi, it’s me.

It took me all damn day plus the week and a half I let pass to get the courage to text Cat, and that’s what I go with? I’m even cringing. Sitting on the deck, I drop my head into my hand and rub my temple.C’mon, babe, text me back.

The sun is setting, so I look out to enjoy its beauty, but my hands are sweating, so I drag my palms down my jeans-clad legs. I used to be able to enjoy the sunrise or sunset on a surfboard in the ocean—starting my day and leading into a night of trouble once I got off the water. I’ve gotten away from surfing but can’t shake my past.Specifically, Cat.

She saw me for who I was and wasn’t putting up with that shit. I don’t blame her. I respect her more for it. She should never settle for less. I take another shot of courage, the beer talking me into sending another text. Logic tells me to wait a fewminutes. I’m on my first lager, so I don’t fall for the tricks beer plays on its victims.

A message pops up and relief washes through that I didn’t jump the shark on this situation. I look at my phone on the table.

Cat:

I thought I blocked this number.

Grinning like an idiot, I laugh before I question whether she’s joking.Shit.What do I say to that? I reply:

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