Page 8 of Bona Fide

She peers up at me, eyes glistening with unshed tears that she tries her best not to let fall. It cracks my heart right in half watching her silently seek to hold herself together while the problem stands before her in a Hugo Boss suit. I’d literally do anything to keep her from feeling like this. I’d cut off my arm just so that she’d be able to get some sort of deserving payback on me.

“You didn’t hurt me,” she vows, raising her chin. “Because we weren’t anything.”

My brows snap together. “That’s not true.”

“It is true. You’re not my boyfriend. We’re not dating. I was just a quick fuck and—” My hand shoots out to grab her bicep, and then I yank her into my chest.

“Don’t ever say that to me again,” I snap. “You were never that to me. If I wanted to fuck someone and not deal with the aftermath, I could’ve gone to the VIP in Laison and gotten a blow job for a few hundred bucks.”

“But I was free,” she retorts. “I can see why—” I shake her to stop talking. To stop making it sound like she’s a whore that I wanted to use just to get my dick wet.

“Stop. You’re not someone I picked off the streets to satisfy a need for me.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Reagan,” I warn. “Stop. Don’t make this something that it’s not. It wasn’t like that for me.”

I’m falling in love with you.

I have, and I’m not sorry about it. I want her smart ass and the fights. I want the bad times and the good. I want to be the one she wakes up to, kisses goodnight, and longs to go home to.

I want it all—with her.

“Good for you, Governor,” she drones. “Now, let go of me.” Hesitantly, I drop my arms and offer a step back to give her some space.

Some space.

Pushing Reagan into a corner will do nothing for me. It’ll only cause her to push back. I’ve done enough as it is right now. Demi means absolutely nothing to me, but she doesn’t know that. My wife is a regret and mistake that I made a long time ago. Someone I should’ve seen past and never tried to forgive.

And now I’m reaping the consequences for it.

Every single one of my sins is laid out for her. I’m an open book, ready to delve into the pages and read off my story. There is no happy ending, not yet. Not until Reagan forgives me and understands my point of view. How things got so messed up and what I’m planning to do about it.

What I’ve always planned on doing with my unwanted baggage.

“I need you to draw up paperwork to terminate our contract,” Reagan professes. “I won’t work for you anymore, I’m done.”

I shake my head. “It’s not done. I can’t be done with you. You mean more to me, Reagan. Every moment you’re not here, I think about you. I fucked up. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. But if you’ll let me—” She reaches into the pocket of her pants, and I swear by the way that she’s standing, she’s going to pull out a gun and shoot me with it.

At least she’d be the last thing I’d see.

Pulling out a roach, she flicks a lighter with her other hand and lights the fucker.

I blink, she’s fucking serious right now. She’s trying to push a button, attempting to get me to let her go. I hope this isn’t her main game because it’s weak and not going to work.

“What’s it going to take?” she asks me through a deep inhale of her blunt. “What do I need to do to get you to do it?”

“I just want you to listen to me. There are so many—” She steps in my direction, leading me back before my ass hits the edge of my desk.

“What will it take?” she repeats, her violet eyes roaming my face. “Everyone has a price.”

“Not me,” I deadpan. “All I want is you.” A soft scoff leaves her nose as she eyes my lips. My cock spasms in my pants at how close she is to me. How my hands want to roam her face and body to make her believe that what I’m saying is real.

But I’m not playing into this because I know what she has in mind.

“How much of me?” she retorts in a whisper. “How much is enough?”

“In a perfect world, the whole thing. But we’re not going to play this game, Reagan. I’m not letting you go, nor am I nulling our contract. Not until you hear everything that I have to say.”

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