Page 115 of Not In The Contract
Or rather, a mistruth. Not necessarily deceit, but the absence of truth.
“Devon,” I called softly, and she looked at me properly this time. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She was quiet for a beat, and she braced herself like she might say something but blew out a long breath instead. “I’m just a little tired,” she said with an easy smile. “I’ll see you back at the house.”
She left before I could respond and I frowned at her urgency. It had just gone three in the afternoon. Very few places would close that early, if she really was running errands, so why would she be in a rush? Unless she was supposed to be meeting with Paula again and she was late…?
No, that wasn’t it. She was only scheduled to meet with Paula again the following week.
Sometime during my musings, Katya had walked in with a fresh pile of paperwork and set it on my desk with athunk.
“Busy?” she teased, knowing damn well we were all busy.
I glared at her. “Did Devon say where she was headed?”
Katya gave me a funny look but shook her head. “She just said she had some things to do.” Katya shrugged. “Do you want me to ask the driver?”
“No, God, no.” I panicked. I wasn’t a psychopath. “I was just curious.”
Katya looked at me for a long moment before seeming to give up on whatever she’d wanted to say. “Well, these are the scheme proposals for Taylor’s resort chain in Singapore,” she explained, tapping the stack with a manicured fingernail. “I don’t envy you, these are brutal.”
I sighed and lifted the first page, wincing as I read the first line of requirements. “It’s going to be a long night,” I murmured sadly.
When Devon left earlier that day I hadn’t been sure what to expect. The house was silent as I walked in, the quiet broken only by the security guards confirming their positions as well as my own.
Her absence had been torture. I’d had no idea thatnothaving someone around could be even more distracting than having that person in your face all day. With the amount of work on my plate, my nerves had been rubbed raw.
To put it plainly, I’d missed Devon. A lot. The hints of resignation in her usually bright eyes had plagued me until I was ready to fling myself into oncoming traffic.
I wondered what it could have been, if it had been my fault. And if it had been my fault, how could I fix it? Time was a much more valuable resource when it came to Devon, since we had so little of it. I didn’t want to waste it on something I could easily fix.
“Devon?” I called out experimentally, listening to the painful echo of my voice in a seemingly empty house.
Maybe she wasn’t home yet? It wasn’t unusual for her to spend her evenings with Tamera whenever their schedules lined up.
But, no-
“I’m in here,” came her reply.
… she was home.
I followed her voice into the kitchen, finding her sitting on one of the bar stools, cradling an empty mug.
“Hey, are you okay?” I asked, my eyes scanning for any sign of obvious trouble.
But she seemed physically fine.
“I should be,” she answered sullenly. “But I’m not, and I hate myself for it.”
My body locked up, frozen in place by the visceral mixture of anger and hurt on her beautiful face.
“Is there something I can do to help?” I offered cautiously, but she shook her head.
“I need to talk to you.”
Those words slammed down on my shoulders like a brick house but I forced my legs not to buckle under the pressure. When have those words ever been a precursor to a great story?
“Go ahead,” I said, as calmly and evenly as I could manage.
