Page 13 of Tangled IN LIES (IN YOU 3)

“I’ll be traveling to the Middle East to see if we can extend our business there. Would you like to join my team and me? It would be hectic, but it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity to see how it works.” He digs his chopsticks into the noodles, twisting them until he has a fair amount on them.

“It sounds awesome,” I smile.

We slip into the conversation about work like it’s natural to us. By the time we finish our lunch, I have more knowledge about the company than what I started with. It’s just this feeling in my belly that concerns me. I keep slipping into this sensual energy pulsing around us, consuming my thoughts and obliterating logic.

4

Ignited

~Mark~

I almost blew it.

But when I noticed that wound on her hand, something propelled me to see it from up close. It looked like a replica of my own, except Cassandra’s scar was etched by the debris and mine with a scalpel. Grazing my fingers over the scarred tissue in the center of my chest, I recall how it felt to touch hers. I could feel the nerves on my own wound respond like we were connected with a live wire, pulsing with so much potency it took me by surprise.

I didn’t even notice how space between us melted, and we stood inches apart. The feel of her skin and subtle reaction to my touch drove me to explore it further. I don’t know, if we had a moment longer, I wouldn’t have had the strength to step back without a taste of her lips. I’ve never had such a strong impulse to get close to another human being. Until her.

For the next two weeks, I tried to keep my distance so Cassandra would feel comfortable enough to work here and establish her own position. Robert, as if knowing, took over her training, utilizing her skills as he saw fit and befriending her in the process.

“You are avoiding her,” Rob speaks with his mouth full of food.

We decided to have an early lunch close to the Fading Ink cafeteria since we both skipped breakfast. Thinking about Cassandra, I rub my chest as my scar in the middle starts to ache.

“You okay?” Rob asks, knowing I must take extra care with my health. He puts down his food and brings me another bottle of water. I always keep myself fit, eating well, knowing I must be in shape to stay healthy.

“Thanks.” I gulp half of it before answering. “I’m fine, just worried about the Middle East debacle. I spoke with Aaron. He wants to end our agreement.”

“I don’t get it. Why?” Rob’s right. Before us, their company was about to go bankrupt. “What do they want? More money?”

I shrug because during these conversations I just got more and more frustrated. His answers were sketchy, and that made me suspicious about where the Moudis stand.

“Do you think he got a better deal from someone else?”

“Who knows. Ready?”

Rob nods, pushing his empty plate in the middle, and we both leave, taking a walk through the park. My gaze snaps to the family of six playing near the swings, their laughter drifting to us. But when a man picks up a girl, my breathing halts as the memories force their way into my mind.

His hand on me. His breath wafting off him, as he . . . His gaze dark with corruption, plowing into me. Being completely alone with my own pain and shame. And acute need to dive deeper into the chasm and drown in there, so the reality wouldn’t hurt this much.

My gaze zeroes in on the man’s hands, his face, his reactions. From where I stand, the man looks just like him. I fight the urge to snatch the girl from his hands and hide her from him. But I often see evil in people, not the light.

So, I force my legs to move, fighting a PTSD episode from taking over. Not all fathers are monsters, I remind myself while pressure clutches my chest like shackles. Breathe.

After we return to Fading Ink, we both dive deep into work, and Robert forgets to interrogate me about Cassandra. For a little while, I forget her too. But not for long.

“Mr. Lawson, Darren Cade is calling. Shall I connect you?”

“Yes, please.” I swivel around in my chair, so I face the beautiful panorama, dusk painted in red and orange hues. I exhale a long breath, knowing this conversation was long coming. Surprisingly, it took Darren two weeks to call.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, old man?” I grumble my greeting.

“Why is Cassandra Cade working at Fading Ink, Mark? I thought I was clear when I told you to stay away from her.” His words are full of hidden disdain for the woman who became their son’s widow just a few hours after they exchanged vows.

“And I thought you knew me better than this, Darren. I don’t do well with orders. I’m my own man, and your permission to hire new staff was never required,” I reprimand him in a tight tone, irritated he’s patronizing me.

“Have some respect, son, I won’t tolerate you speaking to me this way.”

Perhaps this works with his sons but not with me. The more he tries to exert his authority over me, the more I’m tempted to push him back and show him who I am. Since his son died, Darren thinks he has a grip on me, that I owe him my obedience. Except, he’s wrong. I’ll never allow another man to take control of me.

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