Page 110 of Blind Prophet

“Yeah?”

“Your boss’s brother is a frequent visitor.”

“Ryan? He doesn’t have a brother.”

“I don’t know a Ryan. Jack Sullivan. His brother, Liam, from what I understand, is a fixture on the scene. Lives in Houston, but he travels.”

“Jack’s not my boss.”

“He owns your company. Doesn’t that make him your boss?”

“Technically.” I hold up a hand. “I don’t want to hear about Sophia’s father’s sex life.”

“Not her father, her uncle.”

“Same,” I say. “None of this is material.”

“Maybe,” he says.

“What does that mean?”

“Just that maybe you should broaden your scope.”

“That reminds me. Can you get me a list of your father’s staff? Everyone who works with him?”

He sighs like he’s tired, and I can understand why he is, why I keep coming back to him. But he is my assignment, and I need to focus and clear him. There’s a sadness to Dorian’s expression, and I sense he’s about to say more when my phone lights up.

SF

We need you back here tomorrow. A car will pick you up at 9.

Is she still on about my safety? No, they heard everything Dorian said. He shouldn’t be a suspect—not anymore. My assignment must be changing. Dorian reads the message on my screen, and I lift my shoulders, shrugging because I learned at the same time he did.

“You can’t stay the weekend?” He’s incredulous, and I don’t blame him. I said I’d stay the weekend.

“Can we not argue? Can we just go to bed?”

His entire expression changes, and the next thing I know, I’m in the air, legs around his waist, being hoisted up the stairs.

“What’re you doing?” I shriek, laughing.

“Fulfilling your wishes, because I thought you’d never ask.”

CHAPTER26

DORIAN

Last night, I slept better than I have in years. Yes, the day had been exhausting and the sex fulfilling. But it was more than that. She’s the missing piece, and my soul isn’t at peace unless she’s near. The thought is hokey and cheesy, but it’s the only explanation I have.

Yes, last night cradled in my arms, she accused me of only wanting what I can’t get. She did that years ago, too. Shortly after I proposed, a story broke about her stealing a friend’s boyfriend in high school and also in college. The story implied she was conniving and a woman leveraging relationships for connections and social upward mobility. I made the mistake of assuming it to be true and asked her about it. She took off her engagement ring and walked out of the restaurant. It took me two months to win her back. I had to propose three times before she said yes again. There was a time when I suspected she might have been right, that I fell hard and fast for the one woman who was willing to walk away. But it’s deeper than that. When she’s with me, I can breathe.

What I’ve got to figure out is how to ensure that when I’m with her, she can, too.

She types away at her laptop, absorbed in a discussion with her colleagues.

She’s mentally vacated, lost in her world.

This morning when I woke, mindful of her early planned departure, I came down to get her coffee and discovered her cleaned clothes had been delivered and left in the entry. I brought everything to her, she showered, packed, and opened her laptop.

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