Until We Fly (Beautifully Broken 4)

I approach my phone, and as inn

ocuous as it seems lying on the kitchen counter, it might as well be poison, because when I pick it up and read William’s words, the toxin runs through my veins, pulsing through my heart.

I want to see you. Sunday. In the conference room of Greene Corp, just you and me. 2pm. Be there. You don’t want to know what will happen if you don’t show up. But here’s a hint: It involves your boyfriend.

I knew he’d been threatening Brand the other night with his text. You and your boyfriend fucked up.

I knew it. And I’ve been waiting with bated breath, every day, to see what he was going to do.

And here it is.

I’ve been summoned.

I’ll finally know.

I glance at Brand and I literally have to fight the urge not to shudder over what I’ve done. Being here could’ve put him at risk. Every day I wanted to tell him, every day I didn’t .

Each day, he’s been nicer and nicer to me, making it impossible for me to want to ruin it.

I didn’t want this fake little bubble that we’ve built here to burst… even though it was never real in the first place.

I should’ve told Brand from the very beginning that I’m encased in a bubble, my bubble is made of Swarovski crystal, and at the whim of my uncle or my father, I would drop to the floor and shatter.

But I didn’t.

Because I’m too selfish.

But the clock was ticking… seconds, hours, days.

And the time has come.

The other shoe is going to drop.

Chapter Twenty

Nora

I can’t let him go.

I watch him as he sits on the beach, staring at the fucking buoy that taunts him.

I know I should. I know I should cut the strings right now and walk away, but I’m not strong enough. I need him.

I need him.

Something has changed in him, something important, but I don’t know what. His expressions soften whenever he looks at me and I can feel the change when he holds me at night. He’s tender and his touch is ever so soft, a glaring contrast to the hardness of his body.

He’s a trained killer, an Army Ranger. He’s capable of so many dangerous things, but when he’s with me, his touch is feather light. Careful.

Like I might break, like he suspects that I’m made from crystal, like he wants to protect me from shattering.

Warmth gushes through me at the thought.

Somehow, he’s opened himself to me. He wants me. And as much as I thought I couldn’t expose him to me, because I might taint him, and somehow take his goodness away, he’s still Brand.

He sleeps with me every night, and he’s still as good as he ever was.

Is it possible that I could be with him and not tarnish him?