The Billionaire's Betrayal (Highest Bidder #3) - Carmen Falcone Page 0,28
someone, quickly, then raised his eyes to hers. “No. I’m coming. Let’s get our things together, and we should be good to leave in an hour.”
She nodded.
He took one step in her direction, an emotion she couldn’t detect flashing in his eyes. “Listen, I know how this all seems. Sleeping with you wasn’t my goal. I’m not going to deny I took advantage of our crazy chemistry to get close to you, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy every minute of it.”
“So you enjoy betrayal and lies.”
“I enjoy being with you,” he drawled. “I’m apologetic about the circumstances.”
Words. She swallowed the knot in her throat. Her stepfather had always apologized after abusing her, saying he couldn’t possibly resist her. Sorrow welled up inside, pressuring behind her eyelids, and she felt hot tears coming. Tears she didn’t want him to see. She walked toward the door, blood thickening in her veins. “Let me know when it’s time to leave.”
He outmaneuvered her and blocked her way. “Alexa, don’t do this—”
“Out of my way,” she shouted, searching for the vase to throw at him. Maybe then he’d understand.
He lifted his hands in surrender, and with a sigh, moved aside. “All right. As you wish.”
This is not over, said a voice inside her. She slammed the door behind her and entered her room, where she’d hole up until it was time to go. Brooks had betrayed her trust, and in such a short amount of time, it already cut too deep. It has to be over.
Chapter Eight
Alexa opened the door of her building, and Brooks followed her inside. Evening fell behind them. She’d kept to herself during the flight, choosing to read a business magazine, then pretending to watch a thriller movie to avoid talking to him. But now, she could smell his manly scent, the seductive notes of his cologne, and wished for a moment she didn’t have that capability.
The woodsy traces in his aroma reminded her of a large, sexy man from the country. A man who, despite his wealth and privilege, had chosen to build his own cattle empire and thrive. Her shoulders sagged. A man who didn’t exist.
She flicked on the lights. As they walked through the empty stage where auctions took place, an eeriness stalked her. All the chairs had been folded and put away for cleaning. Only on auction nights, on Saturdays, did the room reach its full potential.
“Quiet here,” Brooks said, walking alongside her.
“My assistant Jackie has probably left for the day. I beef up security on auction nights and when we’re interviewing, but besides that, there’s no need for it.”
“Have you ever received death threats?”
“Weekly,” she said, remembering the emails she’d gotten from religious groups or scorned ex-wives. Jackie did the weeding out for her, so she no longer read them. She sighed. People with too much time on their hands, but no real action plan—thankfully. “I don’t do what I do to piss off anyone. So I try not to worry about it.”
“Where’s your security from?”
“On auction nights, I outsource them from the same firm I’ve worked with for years.”
She unlocked the door to her office, switched on the light and marched in. He shadowed her, and she turned to close the door, then realized they were the only ones in the building. Apprehension expanded in her veins, and her office seemed smaller than she remembered.
Shaking her head, she sat on her chair, flicking on her computer screen and typing her password. “We don’t have cameras around the building in order to keep the clients’ identities private.” The last thing she needed was a waitress or a security person filming the attendees to blackmail them later.
“That’s not smart.”
“Thanks for your business advice.” She rolled her eyes, then focused on her computer screen. She typed his sister’s name in the database of auctionees. Then, she printed out the information she had on Pamela and gave it to him.
When she handed him the paper, her fingers brushed his, and a spark shot up her arm. Swiftly, she withdrew, rubbing her hands together like she’d been shocked and needed to recover. “This is what I have on file about your sister.”
He plopped on the seat in front of her, holding the sheets. Concern washed over his face, and she shifted in her chair. What would her life be like if she’d had a sibling? Would they have been thick as thieves, sharing fears and ambitions? Or would life have torn them apart?