Page 112 of Reckless King

He scrubs his hand over his chin. “Just to talk to Reid. That’s all.”

Foreboding unfolds in my chest. For weeks, he’s made a point to come home and cook dinner with me. He’s been affectionate and open. Yet suddenly, as we’re approaching the end of our agreement, he’s staying out late, going to Onyx, and giving me vague answers to my questions. Yes, he co-owns Onyx, but considering what happened between us last time he went to talk to Reid, I can’t help but worry.

His fingers brush my arm. “Go to sleep, Violet. It’s been a long day.”

His voice is all wrong. It’s flat, distant. In this moment, my plans to confess how I feel for him fly out the window. I can’t doit when everything feels so off. And it’s late. This is not the time to press the issue.

I lie back and stare up at the ceiling. Normally, we’d be wrapped around each other, but instead, we’re lying here barely touching. I listen to his breathing, waiting for it to even out in sleep, but I still haven’t heard it by the time my eyelids are too heavy to keep open and the world finally fades away.

When I blink awake the next morning, the space next to me is empty. The memory of last night comes rushing back, and I curl up under the covers, filled with doubt about what the day might bring. But eventually, I force myself up. I can’t hide in here forever.

I get dressed quickly, then search through the apartment until I finally find Tate in his office.

He glances up at me where I stand in the doorway and smiles, but there’s something missing in his expression. It takes me a second to realize what it is. His eyes are shuttered against me for the first time in a long time. I can’t read him—he’s as unknowable to me now as he was the first night I saw him at Onyx. Alarm bells go off in my head.

“I made dinner last night,” I say.

A muscle jumps in his jaw, and he averts his gaze. “I’m sorry. Something came up at work, and then I had to talk to Reid.”

“Okay.” Why does it feel like he’s shutting me out? I’m not sure what else to say, but I don’t want to leave things like this. “What are you doing in your office so early?”

Tate keeps his attention fixed on his computer screen for a long moment. Eventually, he clears his throat and speaks. “I asked our PR department to write up a statement about the end of our relationship. I’m going through it now.”

A lance of pain steals my breath. As if a frozen knife has pierced my chest, ice spreads from there to my limbs. “When… When are you…?” I can’t even get the words out.

“The contract expires Friday, so we should plan for you to move home then. We’ll release the statement the next day.”

A sudden rush of tears blurs my vision. “I thought… I thought maybe things had changed.”

There’s a flicker in the depths of those golden eyes of his for just a second. Then he presses his lips together, stands and approaches me.

My heart tells me to run, but I’m frozen to the spot as he pushes my hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my skin.

“I won’t lie, Violet. I’ve enjoyed this arrangement. I even considered extending the contract so I could spend more time with you. But when it comes down to it, I’ve never been interested in settling down permanently, and that hasn’t changed. I don’t want to drag this out and risk anyone’s feelings getting more involved than they should be.”

“Too late,” I whisper as a hot tear drips down my cheek.

He catches it with his thumb and stares down at it, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “I’m sorry, butterfly. I should never have let it go so far. This is for the best though. You’ll realize that soon enough.”

He seems genuinely remorseful, and I think maybe that’s worse than if he’d been uncaring. Though it doesn’t matter. Either way, the result is the same. He doesn’t want me anymore.

I won’t let him see me fall apart. I wish I could go back and handle the last minute differently, hide all evidence of my pain. Since I can’t, I drag in a heavy breath of air, gather every ounce of strength I possess, and lift my chin. Then I force myself to meet his gaze. “I’ll get started packing.”

Emotion flashes across his face, but it’s gone so quickly I can’t name it. Maybe relief that I’m not making a scene? In the end, he nods silently and returns to his desk.

I put one foot in front of the other, headed toward the guest room, where the bulk of my belongings still reside.

But before I get far, he calls out to me, and I turn.

“It goes without saying that everything you’ve been given during the agreement belongs to you. Keep it all.”

With a thick swallow to choke back my tears, I turn and leave. My heart is fracturing, and I can’t get out of here fast enough.

The moment I’m inside the guest room with the door shut, I call Anna and ask her to pick me up. Then I shove the things I brought with me into my bags. I leave the designer dresses. Their presence would only remind me of Tate.

Then I go into his bedroom and collect the few things I left in there. When Anna messages me to tell me she’s waiting outside the building, I quickly respond, then consider one last thing. For a long, painful moment, I study the ring glittering on my finger, struggling to swallow past the hard rock that’s formed in my throat. It never meant anything, not if Tate’s words and distance this morning are anything to go by, so why does it feel wrong to remove it? I can’t wear it anymore. Maybe I could sell it, invest the money into True Brew. No. Just the thought makes the tightness in my chest start to burn. But, even as my heart cracks open wider, I slip the ring off my finger and set it on the side table. Blinking back tears, I take a final look around the room, shoulder one bag, grab the others, and walk out. As tempting as it is to just salvage my pride and leave the penthouse, I stop by Tate’s office.

He doesn’t notice me at first, so I take the opportunity to study him. His head is bowed, though the deep line between his brows is hard to miss. With the way he rubs his temple, he’s clearly bothered by something. Is it an issue with Genesis-1? Whatever it is, it seems to be taking a toll on him. I have to fight the urge to walk in there, smooth my fingers over that crease in his brow and do what I can to ease his tension. He’s made it clear he doesn’t need or want that from me anymore.

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