The CEO's Little Surprise

“Are you still in love with me?” he demanded.

She laughed but it sounded forced and hollow. “Boy, someone sure packed their industrial-sized ego for this trip down memory lane. What do you think?”

That cool exterior was a front, one she did better than he’d credited, but he knew the Cass underneath it. Very well.

Sarcasm meant he’d hit a nerve.

“I think you didn’t deny it.” Eyes narrowed, he evaluated her.

Of course, that question would remain unanswered because, at the end of the day, she didn’t trust him. And he was still angry about it. The unfounded accusations about Rebecca Moon still stuck in his craw and he was having a hard time getting them loose. “I guess I should have ended things. Especially if you’re convinced I’m out to steal from you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she cut in swiftly. “We both know your interest in me starts and ends with my formula. So I’ll make it easy for you. This...whatever it is...is over.”

So that was it? Because of how things had ended between them the first time, she chose to believe that he was involved in the leak and didn’t have any intention of listening to him. She was operating under a decade-old hurt and refused to give him an opportunity to explore what he wanted this time. That was crap and he was calling her on it.

“What if I asked you to extend our relationship because I want to see what happens when we don’t end things right away? It’s totally unfair of you to say adios when I’m genuinely trying to figure this out. Almost as unfair as accusing me of being involved in the leak with literally no proof.”

She stared at him, her eyes huge and troubled. “Yeah, well turnabout is fair play, Gage. Spend the next decade thinking about that.”

Thirteen

Gage drove back to Austin, his mind a furious blur. Cass had found the ultimate way to get him back for breaking her heart—by accusing him of betraying her.

Turnabout is fair play.

If it had happened to anyone else, he’d have appreciated the irony.

As it was, his chest ached with unprocessed emotions. If it wasn’t for the layer of mad, he might understand what had just happened. But he couldn’t get the heaviness in his chest to ease or the anger to abate. She hadn’t believed him when he said he wasn’t involved. Because she didn’t trust him.

In Cass’s mind, he was guilty simply because he hadn’t fallen to one knee and declared undying love. Stealing a competitor’s secrets was apparently as much a crime to her as not proposing. It was ridiculous. He cared about Cass. Of course he did. Who suggested they keep seeing each other? Gage. Who had called Cass when he’d been at his absolute lowest? Still him. Didn’t she get that he’d been falling for her all along and had kind of freaked out about it?

Obviously not.

He’d given as best as he knew how. And his best wasn’t good enough.

Fine. That was the way it should be, anyway. Clearly this relationship business wasn’t for him. But what if that meant he couldn’t be a father either? What if he was completely flawed in some way?

Gage spent the remainder of the drive home nursing his wounds and then drowned them in a quarter of a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. He tried to go to bed, where it smelled like Cass and everything good and hopeful in his life, and that was the breaking point.

He vaulted out of bed, scaring the bejesus out of Arwen, who was enjoying the rare treat of sleeping at Gage’s feet. Head cocked at a curious angle, she watched him throw on jeans but elected to stay put when Gage stormed from the room.

Twisting open the whiskey again, he got started on what was probably a vain attempt to drink enough to forget the stricken look on Cass’s face when she’d said this is over.

He’d hurt her. He got that. But it had happened a long time ago. This was all on her and her inability to forgive and forget. There was no reason for Gage to reevaluate anything, yet here he was, doing it anyway.

He groaned and let his head fall into his hands. Who was he kidding? He’d screwed up, too.

Whether it was fair, whether he’d made mistakes with Cass due to his unquenchable desire to best his competition, whether Robbie made his life unduly complicated—none of that mattered. He’d lost something precious and he missed her. Cass should be in his arms at this moment and she wasn’t and it sucked.

Before he dissolved into an unmanly puddle of regret, he palmed his phone and flicked through pictures of Robbie. The boy’s face was so reminiscent of Gage’s brother, it was almost eerie. Genetics. That’s all it was, not a message from beyond the grave.