Page 59 of Ugly Truths
I should be disgusted with myself. Hell-bent on making her suffer for what she did to me. I’m not the kind of man who forgives, and I definitely don’t let people back in once they’ve betrayed me. And yet, here we are, just three weeks after bringing her back to Chicago, and she’s already in my house again. In my study. In my bed. I swore I wouldn’tallow this, but I just don’t give a damn about the potential consequences right now.
Elena is the most potent addiction I’ve ever known, a drug that laced itself into my bloodstream from the moment I first touched her. No matter how much I tell myself I need to keep my distance, it’s already too late. There was never any staying away. I proved that the second I hunted her down and dragged her back here.
I still don’t trust her. I can’t pretend the past never happened, but I have to know if she’s telling the truth. If there’s even the smallest chance, I can’t walk away yet.
Davey was right.
The bastard.
I need to let this run its course because if this is real, then I have to see it for myself. And if it’s not, then at least I’ll know when it ends.
We both work quietly in between my meetings. She hasn’t overheard anything too sensitive, always donning a pair of headphones without being asked. Still, before each one begins, she tilts her head slightly, voice soft as she murmurs, “Should I leave?” Ready and willing to do whatever I ask.
It’s a heady feeling, holding that kind of control over the woman who once slipped through my fingers and is now looking to me for direction. On one hand, I want to tell her to stop acting like someone she isn’t. It feels like a mask she’s wearing for my sake. But on the other hand, it feeds something primal that thrives on the responsibility of it.
“Can I ask you a question?” Elena asks, her voice cutting through the silence and my thoughts like a whip.
My head snaps up from the financial summary I’m supposed to be reviewing. She’s lounging on the couch, laptop now resting on the floor beside her. She’s pressed into the armrest, her long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle at the opposite end.
Forcing my glasses back up my nose, I arch an eyebrow.
“Lena,” I begin, the nickname slipping from my mouth with such ease it feels as though I’ve been saying it my entire life. “Though I’mthoroughly enjoying this new submissive attitude,” I pause, my eyes raking over her slowly, deliberately. Her cheeks flush the most delicious shade of pink. “I want you to speak freely, like you always have. That smart mouth is still my favorite trait of yours.”
“Even if it makes you violent?” she asks, her sinfully raspy voice dipping lower as she echoes the words I said to her the first time I claimed her months ago.
“Especiallybecause it makes me violent,” I reply, my tongue running over my bottom lip.
Is this how it’s always going to be? I had her this morning, and I’m already calculating the next time I’ll have her again.
She looks at me like she knows exactly what I’m thinking, her lips curving ever so slightly. “How long has your dad been pushing for Jeremy to be COO?” She redirects me without missing a beat.
I lean back in my chair, running a hand through my hair as I think. “A few months,” I reply, tilting my head side to side as I sift through my memories. “He’s always been trying to find a place for Jeremy, but nothing has ever really fit. You’ve met Jeremy a few times. He’s… my brother, and I care about him, but he doesn’t have the right temperament for what that role needs.”
She absorbs the information, already working through what it might mean. It reminds me of why I told her about it at breakfast.
Even if I don’t fully trust her, Iwantedto tell her. To hear her perspective the way I used to. When she lived here before, I confided in her, talking about my work more than hers for reasons that are clearer now, but it wasn’t just about having someone to vent to.
As Scarlett, shegotit. Sharp, practical, and when it came to business, we saw things the same way. That compatibility was one of the first things that made it possible to fall in love with her so quickly. How easily we aligned when talking strategy, how she took an interest in my plans for Wells.
For all the ways she’s betrayed me, I need to know if that part of our relationship—the way wethoughttogether—was real. Was she interestedin my work because she cared for me and the company, or was it only to gain insight to use against me? The way she reacted this morning felt like it was the former, but time will tell.
It also gives me the opportunity to see what she does with this smaller bit of information. If she can prove herself by keeping this secret, I’ll figure out if I can trust her with anything else somewhere down the line.
Elena nods, her brows knitting. “Interesting,” she says slowly. “Your father doesn’t seem like the type of man to make a decision like this based on emotion. Is there a reason he’s so set on operations?”
I weigh her words for a moment. “Likely to offer him something similar to what was offered to me.”
“That’s what I’m struggling with,” she answers, drumming her fingers against her bicep. “William has always been concerned about how your work and actions reflect on him, and that doesn’t seem to matter with Jeremy. Why is the risk worth it now? Does he gain something by having Jeremy in that position that he doesn’t already have with you?”
I straighten in my seat.
Since deciding a few years ago to leave the COO position vacant, William and I have been splitting the responsibilities that landed outside of our current director, Bethany’s, scope. If he ever cared to be a part of the conversations I’ve wanted to have about the the transition, he’d know that I had a multi-step plan in place to start off-loading some of his tasks onto Bethany and, hopefully in the next couple of years, she’d be prepared to step into the position and take the responsibilities I hold currently, as well.
But maybe this demand isn’t about trying to make things “fair” between Jeremy and me as much as it’s about what he loses by giving up those responsibilities. Considering how often we’re at odds over the direction of Wells nowadays, maybe it’s about keeping his hands on the wheel, because if he can’t do it through me, he thinks he can do it through Jeremy.
My skin pulses with the realization.
“Probably because Jeremy would follow his instructions or advice to the letter, no questions asked,” I say finally through a clenched jaw.
