Page 127 of The Truths that Deceive

But there’s nothing, and… Fuck. It’s not her. It’s Calista.

Her image is a hard punch to my gut.

I’m barely able to stand still as she rides the elevator up. When it opens, she’s even more beautiful than ever. She’s in a short black skirt with black over-the-knee socks, and she’s wearing a black blazer and a tie.

And her hair is back to its techno rainbow over silver and now red.

I want to kiss the living fuck out of her, drop down and go to town on her pretty cunt. I want to just fucking hold her like an idiot.

“You look like some schoolgirl nightmare ninja mafia girl.”

She snaps her fingers. “You gotit.” Then she glares. “I’m not leaving until I yell at you. You’re an ass, a pig, a moron. At that fancy hospital, you acted like you didn’t want me.”

Things start to crumble. “Maybe I don’t.”

“And at first I just figured you’d had your fun, but then I started thinking of how you took a bullet for me,” she says, ignoring me. “You could have died.”

“I’m alive.”

“You must have some feelings for me. I shot the fuck out of that guy. And do you know why? Because I love you. I hate that I fell in love with you, but I did, and I went crazy. And you?—”

“Calista.”

“What?”

“You know I took that bullet for you. You wanna know why? Because I couldn’t bear to be in a world without you. I wasn’t going to let him hurt you. My regret is not making him suffer.”

Things like resolve crumble. Hard.

She closes the gap between us and puts her hand on my cheek. “But you made me suffer.”

“I…” Fuck. “I didn’t mean to but come on, you deserve better than me. You deserve a life.”

“I deserve to make that choice. And I—” She shakes her head. “I said what I needed to. I should go.”

She drops her hand and turns, and she crosses to the elevator. She’s almost there when I crack.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Go.”

“Why should I stay?” she whispers.

Why fucking indeed. Because I’m a selfish prick.

“Fuck, I thought I could do this, not be selfish, but… no, I don’t want you to go.”

“Why?” Her gray eyes narrow, like she’s challenging me to say the right thing, the thing she needs to hear.

But I don’t know if I can.

“I’d like you to stay. If you want, you can stay. My group, we need someone with your skills. It’s the only way you can stay here in New York. In the States. Work with us.” I hold my breath. Jesus, I don’t think I can fuck this up any worse than I am right now.

I’ve handled all kinds of intricate, delicate situations.

This should be the easiest thing in the world.

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