Page 151 of Ten Day Affair
"This is insane. You destroyed my life, I moved to another state to get away from you, and the first time I see you again, we're doing it like rabbits in the light of day on my couch," she says into her hands.
"You forgot to add in that you tried to sever my arm in two."
Her hands drop, and she glares at me. “Shit. I forgot. Let me see it.”
I hold out my arm. The skin is an angry mix of red and purple, a goose egg swelling where the door hit. She presses her thumb into the bruise. I jerk back with a hiss, muffling a scream.
“What the hell was that?”
“I needed to make sure it wasn’t broken.”
“Jesus. That hurt more than the damn door.”
She grins. “Good. You deserved that. Don’t think I don’t know what you were doing. You got hurt on purpose, so I’d feel bad.”
“Did it work?”
“It worked, you smug bastard.”
“I may be a bastard, but I’m not smug. I’m just not pretending this didn’t mean something.”
“It can’t mean something, Cole.”
“Why not?”
She stands suddenly, grabbing her shirt off the floor and yanking it over her head.
“Because you lied to me the entire time we were together. Because you bought my hospital, acted like you didn't, and you’re chopping it up. Because you made me fall for you while you were destroying everything I cared about.”
Made me fall for you.
She tugs on her pants and walks to the window, arms crossed tight over her chest. I watch her stare out toward the water.
That one lands like a blow right to my lungs. No matter what I do to try to fix this, that remains. I destroyed everything she ever cared about.
“I’m not involved anymore. I resigned. From the board. From Kings Holdings.”
She turns, arms still folded. “You resigned? Is that more business spin to make it sound noble while you’re still pulling strings behind the scenes?”
“No. It means I walked away completely. I gave up my board seat, resigned from the company, and took my name off the filings. I have no say in what they do next.”
Her eyes narrow skeptically. So I keep going.
"Why now? None of this matters, now that the vote is through. The damage is done, Cole."
“There was a reporter who was closing in. She was going to run a big exposé. She had most of it: the shell company, the vote, the deal. She even knew about you.”
“She called me.”
“Jesus. I was hoping I got to her before she did.” My stomach turns.
“I didn't talk to her.”
“I’m sorry. That’s exactly what I was trying to prevent. I made her a deal. I told her I’d go on the record if she would keep you out of it. I gave her everything, told her it was me behind the deal, that I was the one who stood to profit.”
She watches me, expression unreadable.
"Why would you do that? You're so good at hedging. Isn't that what you're supposed to do in that situation?"
