Page 94 of Misdirection

Another few seconds passed before he asked, “Did you know I worked at Conglomerate before you came here?”

“I didn’t,” Olive said quietly. “I had no idea. Then when I saw you . . . I didn’t want to lie to you. But you know what the stakes are . . .”

“I wish I could argue with you. But I can’t. Plus, there are so many other more important things to be upset about.”

More silence stretched between them.

Jason took a long sip of his drink and stared straight ahead. “I can’t believe we’re sitting here right now. I used to dream about this.”

Olive noted his word choice of “used to.” She didn’t hold him at fault for it.

She understood.

They’d both moved on. A lot of years had passed. A lot of changes had taken place.

She glanced at him, and their gazes met.

Something passed between them—a zing of electricity.

Suddenly, Olive could hardly breathe.

Their feelings for each other were still there, weren’t they?

That fact scared Olive more than any enemy possibly could.

Olive wasn’t sure how it happened, but she and Jason had somehow gravitated closer on the couch. Had she moved or had he?

She had no idea.

But suddenly, her knee touched his thigh.

She didn’t move.

And she couldn’t take her eyes off Jason. Off the smoky look in his gaze. The way his lips parted. The way his broad chest angled toward her.

“Who are you, Olive Whiten?” His voice sounded throaty. “Is that even your real last name? I just assumed that maybe you’d been married at some point.”

“I haven’t been. Whiten is an alias. Olive Sterling is my name.”

At least, shethoughtthat was her real last name. She wasn’t sure about the truth anymore.

“Good to know.” Jason stared at her. “And back to the first part of my question: who are you?”

Olive licked her lips. “Truth? I don’t really know anymore. I take on a different personality wherever I go. Looking back, I realize how unstable my childhood really was. My family moved so much, and each move brought a different lifestyle and a new group of people. My dad . . . well, let’s just say he wasn’t who I thought he was. I suppose I have an identity crisis.”

“You know what I think?”

Her breath caught at the hoarseness of his voice. “What’s that?”

“I think we decide every day who we are. We define ourselves with every choice we make. Do we choose to do good? Or do we choose to be selfish?”

Something about his words brought a wave of comfort over her.

Maybe she wasn’t the product of her past or even her career.

Even if her dad had potentially been a conman, that didn’t mean she had to follow in his footsteps.

He leaned closer. “I think you’re an extremely intelligent woman who wants to leave the world a better place than you found it. That’s who I think you are.”

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