Page 140 of The Price of Forever

“Aren’t you? You’re fucking kissing him in public. Jordan, Cora is devastated. I thought we could keep her from needing to know about this, but…dude. What are you doing?”

My insides felt like a ringing bell on the brink of shattering. I didn’t know what I was doing, I just knew that I needed to keep it going, for just a bit longer. “Axel, I told you—he pays so well—”

“And I told you that I’ll double whatever you’re making from him,” Axel snapped. “That man is scum. Unless this is some sort of payback or something?”

“Payback?”

“Yeah, are you mad at me and Damian still? Is this your way of getting back at us or something? Fuck, Jordan—this is fucked up, ya know?”

“Axel, it’s not like that, I promise.” My voice quaked now. This had spiraled out of control, and I felt like everyone was slipping out of reach.

“Just end it with him.” Axel sounded like he was pleading. “That’s all I ask. I don’t want this to break Cora’s heart again. You deserve so much better than him. It breaks my heart, too, to see you with an asshole like that. Please, Jordan. Please.”

I gripped the phone so hard I thought it would snap in two. I had no idea what to say. Other than “Okay.”

Axel’s desperation lingered in the air even after we hung up. I texted Cora after I’d disassociated for a while, eager to begin repairing what I could.

JORDAN: Hey Cora. Can we talk?

By the time I went to bed, she still hadn’t responded.

And in the morning…still nothing.

I needed to get this intel to save my brothers, but going through with it just might ruin everything.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

SEVEN

“You’re such a stud, Eli…this party will be the perfect chance for us to slip away.”

The staticky sound of Jordan’s words rang through my head like a gong. I heard every breathy thing she whispered to him on their outings over and over in my head. As the self-appointed data sifter for our undercover mission, I listened to every minute of every “date.” And after almost six hours of sifting through files today, I needed to pack it up.

I might physically disintegrate from how badly I needed Jordan back in my daily life, if I didn’t.

I pushed away from my computer desk and stood, stretching. It was damn near dinner time, and I’d been in this office since eight a.m. I was ready to eat, and I was ready for my second workout of the day. I was also ready to put my fist into Eli’s face so many times he could never kiss anyone again.

So far, my workaholic plan to distract myself showed only limited success. But it was the only way forward. I couldn’t get close to Jordan now, because if things went south, it would all come crashing to the ground. Her brothers were mad at me; they were mad at her; and if we couldn’t prove that this had been for some greater good, then what was the fucking point?

She’d end up an outcast; I’d end up jobless.

We’d all be miserable and broken.

I returned to my apartment with a heavy heart. All day every day, I waited for some call or text from Damian or Axel that would deliver the final you’re fired. It hadn’t come yet, but I knew it had to be around the corner. After Cora was sent that picture by her friend in Adobe, I wasn’t sure how much further we could push the envelope. The shit was hitting the fan in every way possible and all at once, including my burning need to ask Jordan for a second chance.

I was scared of losing you. I didn’t think I could fall in love again. But I’m already there. I imagined pulling her into my arms, feeling her tightly packed frame against my body, the delicious heat of her. We’ll find a way to make it work. Because none of what comes next is worth it if I don’t have you at my side.

I played around with what I might say, even though I had no idea when I’d get a chance to say the words. At this point, I doubted she’d even let me near her long enough to get out three words. I’d have to send a written letter via Trojan or Chico. And maybe it was better to wait until this thing with Eli ended. I was torn up with indecision and anxiety as I went back to my apartment, finding it empty and dark. I flipped on the lights and started prepping dinner, a good old-fashioned rib-eye and baked potato.

My stomach growled as I cooked. My metabolism was hard to keep up with these days. And I hadn’t even knocked out my second workout of the day.

Trojan barged into the apartment just as I pulled the potato out of the oven. The steak was sizzling on my cast-iron grill, sputtering and making my mouth water as it cooked.

“Hey, buddy,” I said over my shoulder as he stomped up to the island. He heaved a big sigh, dropping a bag on the kitchen island.

“Don’t you ‘hey’ me,” he grumbled.

“Wow.” I turned sharply, lifting my brow. “Is somebody hangry?”

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