Page 83 of Masquerade

“You’re being selective in your objectivity. Another set of objective facts says I have a history of working with environmental organisations.” Kate tried to reason with him while her heart skittered like a trapped bird’s. “There’s never once been a whiff of disloyalty. George vetted me. Your friends in Montveau vetted me.”

“Why do you have a little nest in the country I’m not allowed to visit even in a life-threatening storm. What would I find there? A report for Futureproof Mining?” His voice was husky.

“There’s stuff there from past research. As Rory told you, that’s where I was based for months. All my work for you is saved on files on Clelland’s server,” she answered his questions, increasingly convinced he wasn’t hearing a word.

“Don’t make this harder than it is.” His voice was harsher for its soft tones.

“You don’t look like it’s hard. You’ve got your take-no-prisoners game face on. Blind prejudice is beneath your professional skill.” Her control slipped.

“So, you’re the lawyer now?”

“I’m asking you to consider all the evidence. Why would I change now?” Anger snuck in behind her shock.

“You tell me.”

“I could.” She huffed out a breath. “But then it’s your head, not your heart, that’s listening to me.”

I need your heart to trust me. For you to say, hey I saw this today, tell me all about it. I need you to ask for an explanation with me in your arms and your cheek resting on my head.

Pushing his hands into his trouser pockets, he withdrew behind the camouflage of his expensive suit. “Selina used those same words when I confronted her.” And the memory sealed him in angry-hurt isolation.

Kate had slammed into the wall before she saw it. Selina’s double-dealing still stood between them. Her hand crept to her throat. “What do we do now?”

“You should leave.”

Uncertain of her emotional bearings, she reached into her bag. Her book’s solidity steadied her. Mere minutes earlier the book had held a promise for her future and for their relationship. She pushed past it, digging deeper until her fingers closed over her keys. She fumbled with the keyring, her fingers trembling. Cold despair made her clumsy. She slid off her security card for Clelland’s offices and then the key card for Liam’s apartment.

“You’ll want these?” Her question was a challenge. Her attempt to snap him back to this room, to her, not the past and Selina. She set the keys on his desk.

He glanced at them before pocketing his house key and sliding the other into a drawer.

“I’ll let George know.”

“I’ll call him myself.” Her vision blurred. Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she wouldn’t let him see her cry. “I did not go to see Futureproof Mining. I did not breach the confidentiality clauses in my contract with Clelland. I did not betray you on this case. I don’t know how to put it plainer than that.”

“So, I imagined you at the Futureproof building in a blonde wig.” He was an injured animal. Maybe that entitled him to roar.

“Not your imagination. I was there.” She’d failed to reach him.

He looked like she’d delivered a knockout punch, staggering back a few steps. In a way, she had. She’d told him her secrets one at a time, testing his reaction at every point. Unfair to them both.

“I agreed to an affair. That’s because I was afraid to share my hopes and dreams with anyone. But a relationship dies unless you share.” She tried to smile, and her chin wobbled. “But every day we’ve been together, I’ve shared more.” A fine time to learn she couldn’t protect her heart by coming out of hiding one step at a time.

“I was making you earn my trust. I admit that, but I was also trying to earn yours,” she confessed, his withdrawal leaving a bone-deep ache. She drew a breath to anchor herself. “I understand what Selina did to you, but I’m not her. I care for you.” She should have said I love you. Except that would be like throwing petrol on an open flame, and desperation made her incapable of thinking except in clichés. “What are you afraid of sharing?”

He flinched, and despair coiled in her gut, because she was sure there was something critical to this conversation he wasn’t telling her. She tucked her elbow closer to her side, in turn tucking the soft leather shoulder bag against her body. The outline of her author’s copy pressed into her flank, her talisman. The equivalent of finding a four-leaf clover, seeing a shooting star and hanging a horseshoe on her front door all rolled into one. “I’m sorry I’ve hurt you. Please talk to me.”

The silence was oppressive, filling the space between them. Her heart stopped.

“I was looking forward to showing you this.” Pulling her book from her bag, she placed it on his desk. “Goodbye, Liam.”

* * *

Liam rested his foreheadagainst the door after she left. The feeling he’d damaged something precious made his bones ache. Lifting his head, he swung to face the desolate room. Why was he blaming himself? She’d been the blonde in the skin-tight outfit entering the Futureproof Mining building.

“Sweet Mary and Joseph—what was I supposed to think?”

He’d seen the beginnings of fear in her eyes when he’d talked of following her into the building, of checking each floor where the elevator stopped. Trying to deflect guilt back on him. Well, she’d succeeded. He rubbed his face with his hands, disgusted he’d behaved like Andrew feckin Levin even for a feckin instant.

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