Mark started to step toward Tim.
Steven held him back with a hand on his arm. “I’ll go with you, Officer Mathers, if you don’t mind. I’m closer with Daisy, and I don’t want anyone doubting my statement. Mark, go with Daisy. You two remember each other, right?”
“I—” Mark started, stopping when Steven winked at him. Fucking asshole. “Yeah. Sure. Of course. Hello, Daisy.”
She gave him a tight smile. “Mr. Matthews.”
“Where would you like to take my statement?” he asked, his tone as calmly polite as hers, even though the sound of her musical voice was like nails on a chalkboard.
“Over here is fine. They secured an office for us.” She gestured to a door in the corner of the room. “After you, sir.”
He gritted his teeth, shot Steven a look that should have killed him, and headed for the door. Each step he took was heavier than the last. He opened the door and motioned her inside, but she shook her head, her hand on her gun, and glanced at the other officers watching them. “You have to go in first, Mr. Matthews.”
Even alone, she was continuing with the formal names thing? Like they hadn’t seen each other naked? Like they hadn’t shared those wonderfully amazing nights in each other’s arms before coming to their senses? Fine. He could play that game, too. If she wanted to pretend they were strangers, then they’d be strangers. “All right, Officer O’Rourke. As you wish.”
He ignored manners and walked inside the room. He went to the back wall, leaned against it, and crossed his arms and legs, flexing his fingers. A table, six chairs, and the length of a whole room separated him from her and her dangerous perfume.
It still wasn’t enough.
Nothing would ever be enough.
Because he loved her…
Even though he couldn’t have her.
Chapter Twenty
It isn’t fair.
She didn’t want this. Didn’t want to be in a room with him, feeling like she was drowning without a drop of water in sight. These last few days had been horrible. Awful. Pathetic. And every other synonym that could possibly describe the way she felt without him in her life—lousy. She couldn’t sleep. Barely ate. At least ten times, she’d gotten in her car and driven to his house. And ten times, she’d driven off without knocking.
The last time, last night, had been the hardest.
She’d even walked up to the door, prepared to give up anything, to say anything, so they could be together. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. She shouldn’t have to change, and yet that was the only way they stood a chance. God help her, she was close to giving in, to changing who she was, all for a man.
For him.
She hated him for that.
Here she was, hurting, and there he stood, staring at her patiently as he waited for her to do her job and question him. He was perfectly calm, while all she could do was stare at how well his black suit and light blue dress shirt fit him, and wish she’d said something different that night. So help her God, she’d get through this interview without breaking, or slipping up and letting him know how much he hurt her when he told her to get the hell out of his life.
Pressing her mouth into a thin line, she sat at the table, and gestured for him to do the same. “Please, sit. This might take a while, sir.”
He rose a brow at the generic term, stared at the chair, and shook his head. “No. Thank you, though. I prefer to stand…ma’am.” Over here. Away from you.
That’s what he left off, but he shouldn’t have bothered.
She heard it anyway.
“Sit.”
That cocky brow inched higher. “Is that an order, Officer?”
“Yes. In here, in this situation, I’m in charge. At your house, you can tell me to get out and I have to listen, but right now? This is my house, and I’m the one giving orders.” She pointed at the seat. “Sit down and cooperate, or I’ll be forced to take measures to make sure you will.”
He choked on a laugh. “Are you threatening to arrest me if I don’t sit down?”
“Just sit the hell down, sir.”