Page 43 of My Dear Mr. Corporate

CHAPTER 20

Bryan

“I don’t think your mom can possibly hate me any worse,” I made a half-hearted attempt to joke on the way back to Tate’s home. As though it was my fault for getting shot at in her home and then the police crashing her party, Mrs. Rosenbaum had looked at me like I belonged at the bottom of her shoes. At least no one would forget the stressful long night.

After the police had arrived no one had been allowed to leave until we were all questioned, me more rigorously than the others. By the time the police officers had finished with me, I didn’t know if I was defending myself for being shot at or reporting the incident. We had been held back for hours while they cross-checked the guest list determining who had left prematurely. They hadn’t shared their findings with us.

“It’s not your fault you were shot at,” Tate remarked, still tense from the unexpected events of the night. He wasn’t the only one. For a second when that gun had been pointed at me, it wasn’t my past life that had flashed before my eyes. It was all the promise of the future with Tate that I wouldn’t get to live to see fulfilled. I’d never wanted to be more alive than in that moment.

A part of me still hadn’t registered all that had happened. I was still in a state of shock because I had no clue what to think. The officers had asked me who would want to kill me, and I drew a blank. I had no altercations with anyone, at least, that was what I told them before I remembered my arguments with Keith and Gio. Only one had been in attendance. While Tate had left me with the officers to go for our car I had explained the exchanges between Gio and me to the officers. They had noted his absence and planned to keep in touch.

I gnawed on my bottom lip, wondering if I should bring it up to Tate that I had told the officers about Gio’s absence and our arguments. He was so tense that I didn’t want to get him more upset, especially when nothing would more or likely come from the incident. The police were leaning towards a mistaken identity, but they hadn’t officially concluded the case. In any event, they still had to find out who that bullet was meant for and who had been behind the trigger.

Sensing how troubled he was, I reached across his lap to rub his thigh. His muscles were knotted with tension and I hated seeing him this way.

“The police seem to think it was a mistake,” I said to reassure him. “I’m sure I’m not in danger or anything.”

“But we can’t be certain,” he answered. “I’ll be worried about you until the man responsible is caught.”

“They may never find out who it is,” I answered gently, soothing myself as much as I was soothing him. “We just have to continue with life and hope for the best.”

Even as I said it my stomach was knotted in fear. What if it was not a mistake and the bullet had been meant for me? What if it hadn’t meant to scare me but to kill me? I sifted through my memories and tried to remember if I had pissed off anyone of late. I wasn’t the type to tick off people and only Keith and Gio still came to mind. There was no way in hell Keith could have gotten onto the Rosenbaum’s gated property. He was also not a cold-blooded killer. Yes, he was a sadist and he wouldn’t mind beating the shit out of me if it got what he wanted but shooting at me was too much, even for him.

I didn’t know Gio well enough to decide what he would or wouldn’t do. Love did make people do crazy things and he was clearly in love with Tate. Would he try to scare me off by shooting at me? As much as I tried I could not remember the type of shoes he had been wearing at the function. Then I would know for certain if he was the culprit.

Throughout the ride home, I ruminated on whether or not I should say anything to Tate about my suspicions. I didn’t want to wrongfully accuse anyone, but this was my fucking life and the guy had access to me through Tate. By the time he pulled into his garage and parked the car, I decided to tell him.

Tate cut the ignition switch and the powerful purring of the vehicle stopped. He sighed like the world was on his shoulders. He made no attempt to get out of the car.

“Hey.” I turned on the light in the car and unbuckled my seatbelt, so I could move closer to him. “It’s going to be fine.”

“I’m scared as hell this is going to happen again,” he remarked. “And I don’t know what to do about it. I feel so useless in all this.”

“We can’t think that way. We’ll never have peace of mind if we do.”

He released his own seatbelt and moved towards me. I met him in the center, our lips crashing together. I clung to him like a hopeless man who had just glimpsed his glimmer of light. I kissed him back, craving more of that light. Our breaths came out harsh as we panted against each other. He cupped a hand to the back of my head and kissed me like he was providing me with oxygen. I moaned and pressed my hands to his chest. His heart was pounding in his chest. He had really been scared about losing me tonight.

I tore my lips away from his and gasped for air that my starved lungs needed. I clasped the nape of his neck just as he had mine and placed my forehead against his. I didn’t need to speak the words and for him to say them was unnecessary. Words could not bind us like the emotions I saw in the depths of his eyes.

“Let’s go inside,” he said, turning his head to kiss my hand.

We entered the house together and he set the alarm code. “I need a drink. I’ll be up in a minute.”

I was too drained to take the stairs to the bedroom, so I took the elevator, swearing. How should I go about telling him my suspicion? Once in our bedroom, I changed into a pair of shorts and was pulling on a tank top when Tate entered. He had a drink in his hand. He was different from my foster mother who usually drank herself into a drunken stupor. He did enjoy his drink, but I had never seen him drunk, not even when he was home.

He placed his drink onto the dresser and reached for his jacket to undress.

“Let me help you with that,” I volunteered.

He didn’t resist so I helped him out of his shirt as well. I had him sit on the bed so I could help him with his shoes. Once they were off along with his socks, I finished undressing him until he wore nothing but his navy-blue boxers. When I would have moved by him to put away his clothes, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him, pressing his face to my abdomen. I hugged him back to me and closed my eyes. We stood like that as seconds ticked into a minute.

“Tate,” I said his name hesitantly. Even as I prepared to share my concern with him, I felt nervous doing it.

“Hmm? Ready to go to bed?”

“Just a minute,” I told him, rubbing his shoulders. “How well do you know Gio?”

He stiffened against me. “What?”

---