Page 64 of The Burdens We Share
I flush under his eyes and he softens his voice as he reaches up and tips my chin up with his fingers, “You are beautiful in every fucking way, Ivory Aslan, and I am so sorry that the world made you feel anything but.”
I don’t say anything back. Instead, I close the distance between our lips and I kiss him so hungrily because there are no words to express how he makes me feel. I was a fool for ever feeling embarrassed. I was being insecure yet again. I’m working through it and I have this perfect man to thank for it, to guide me through it.
I kiss him until the air escapes my lungs and I’m just running on fumes. He breaks the kiss and smirks against my lips, “Breathe.”
I chuckle as he kisses my forehead. “Make me a promise.” Hewhispers against my skin.
“Anything,” I whisper back.
He lowers his eyes to meet mine, “Promise me that you will never put yourself through that again. That if you start struggling, you’ll come to me or one of the girls.”
I nod and that agreement is powerful. I’m taking full control of my own life. “I promise.”
A flash of relief flickers in his eyes before sadness seems to take over. “I never want to see you like that again, Ivory. You have no idea what it was like to watch you fall like that. To have to see you in the hospital.”
I frown, “I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head, “I don’t want your ‘I’m sorry.’ I want your ‘it will never happen again.’”
“It will never happen again,” I raise my chin and say those five words with so much confidence, so much conviction, that I know he believes them, but more importantly, I believe them.
He seems satisfied with my response because he smiles at me and reaches for my container, placing it back in my hands before reaching for his own.
––––––––
I SIGH AUDIBLY, RAISINGmy feet and resting my heels on the corner of his desk as I wait for him to come back. Dallas stepped out about thirty minutes ago because Harvey called with some emergency meeting for the sharefolders. Or was it shareholders? Oh, who the fuck cares, it’s one of those two.
I’ve been occupying myself by touching everything in Dallas’ pristine office. I even find that I get amused at the thought of him losing it overseeing my fingerprints on his glass desk. The man is neurotic and can’t stand a mess. We really are a perfect match, you know? He’s obsessively clean and I make a mess of everything.
I’ve touched pretty much everything, and I haven’t found anything interesting. His computer screen is on with some spreadsheet with a ton of numbers I can’t decipher. My eyes linger on his computer screen. The computer is the only thing of his I haven’t touched. I smirk as I sit up straight and scoot closer to the desk. I sort through his tabs, finding nothing interesting. I look down at the apps he has and find a minimized screen idling next to his trash. I click on it out of curiosity and when the screen maximizes, I suck in a sharp breath and feel the color drain from my face. There, in front of me, is the face of my tormentor. Connor Mulligan stares back at me from some kind of digital file.
I scrunch my brows as I quickly read through the file. Dallas seems to have an entire file going on Mulligan’s history from when he was born to how many traffic tickets he’s ever gotten. Dallas really got detailed with his report. I know I should exit the screen and stop snooping because before, my snooping was innocent. This feels like crossing some invisible barrier, but I can’t stop. I don’t know what it is, maybe some strange sense of Stockholm syndrome that makes Connor so interesting to me. Whatever it is, I can’t look away. So I continue to read. I skim through page after page after page and find that the documents must have been scanned and originally on physical paper because someone, Dallas, had annotated them. There are question marks and numerous unanswered questions.
Part of me wants to believe it’s paranoia, that both Dallas and I are still paranoid and that’s why he has so many questions and why I can’t look away, but I have a sick feeling in my gut that it’s something deeper, something worse.
I read that Connor is a normal guy. Aside from a few speeding tickets, he’s never broken any laws. He’s an active member of his church and even volunteers at a local food bank. Dallas’ annotations seem erratic, and worried, almost as if Connor’snefarious side isn’t making sense to him. He wouldn’t be the only one. How could this man be the one that tormented me for so long?
The office door swings open and I jump in my seat, sucking in a small breath. Dallas has a smile on his face that falls when he takes in my face and also what I’m doing. “Ivory,” his voice comes out low.
“What is this?” I ask, my voice cracking.
He locks the door and slowly walks over to the desk, holding my gaze the entire time. “Why are you snooping?”
“What is this, Dallas?” I ask again, desperation in my voice.
He makes it to stand beside me, looking clearly at the screen. He leans against the edge of the desk and takes a deep breath. “I became obsessive after we identified him. I wanted to know every detail about his life, I wanted to know about every single breath he ever took.”
“Why?” I ask, my voice almost a whisper.
Dallas shrugs, “I don’t know. I guess it just made me feel that I was protecting you by learning every detail about him. I have no idea how to explain it.”
I look at the screen quickly before I swallow and look back up at him, “You aren’t telling me something.”
He gives me a long look before caves, seeing something on my face. “You’re right.”
“What is it?”
He pauses before he answers, “I have a feeling that something is off with the whole situation.”
