Page 163 of The Playboy

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for lying. I’m sorry for not telling you. I’m sorry that you had to find out this way. I’m sorry my family and HR knew and you didn’t. But, Brooklyn, you have to know that I was scared as hell to tell you. Because in my gut, I knew what would happen, just like, in your gut, you thought you knew what would happen and you were scared to tell me.”

Silence ticked between us.

Seconds turning to what felt like minutes.

“I hope you’ll find it in yourself to forgive me,” he said.

“Because you forgave me, so it’s only right.”

“No, Brooklyn.” I could hear his emotion building with each breath. “Because deep down, you understand why I did this, and even though you don’t agree with it and you wish I had handled it differently—and I take full accountability for that—you get it. You know you belong here. And you know that the truth would have spoiled this opportunity and you wouldn’t have wanted that either.”

Of course he was right.

But I was still devastated by what he’d done.

I was pissed that everyone at this company had known before me.

I felt, in some way, manipulated.

But I knew what I could offer them. I knew what I could do for them. I knew that, in this position, I was going to shine in ways they couldn’t even dream of.

Having Macon as my manager was something I could handle.

Had I known this before, I wouldn’t have taken the job.

Because, back then, I couldn’t separate the two sides of him.

Now, I most definitely could.

That realization, that truth, even that conclusion didn’t make me feel any better.

Maybe, in the future, it would.

But now, not enough blood had been shed.

“Macon … you have a lot more groveling to do.”

He cracked a smile. “You’re probably right about that.”

“This conversation isn’t over. When we get home, we’re going to talk lots more about it. And just when you think we’re moving on to a different topic, we’re going to talk about it some more. And more. Until I can look at you and not feel as murderous as I do right now.”

“I figured.” He scanned my eyes back and forth. “But for now, please tell me you’re willing to stay.” He took a step closer. “And, fuck, please tell me you’re willing to sit down at that desk with me and let me go over every duty and responsibility of your job—a job that no one else but you could handle.”

I could forgive him.

I felt that in my heart.

We’d both messed up.

We’d both wronged each other.

But I wasn’t going to let that prevent me from moving forward.

I couldn’t.

I wanted this—Macon and the position—far too much for that.

I filled my lungs with as much air as I could hold, and I held out my hand. When he gripped it, I shook his fingers with all the power I had and said, “Brooklyn Bray. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Macon.” I paused as I stared into his smoldering green eyes. Despite how furious I was, I loved this man more than anything in this world. “For the record, I’m going to more than handle this job. I’m going to fucking rock it.”

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