More Than Hate You (More Than Words)

Which means he’s going to call me in for the pleasure of shit-canning me, too, simultaneously getting rid of the only two people actively working to save Reservoir.

I will not give that fucking asswipe the satisfaction.

“You better go.” She sniffles. “He’s not patient today.”

“Fuck Shane. I don’t care if he wants to see me. I don’t owe him a goddamn thing. Come here, baby.” As I approach, she looks up at me with wary, wounded eyes and backs away.

Her expression stabs me in the heart. No, I didn’t put it on her face, but everything inside me compels me to wipe it away and replace it with a smile. Something real. Something filled with joy.

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“It does if I want it to. I don’t give a shit about Shane. I care about you.”

Sloan closes her eyes and looks away, lips pressed together like she’s holding on to her composure by a thread.

God, it fucking hurts me to see her so close to falling apart.

When she looks my way again, she laughs bitterly. “This is so fucked up. The people who should care about me most—my own flesh and blood—would be a lot happier if I fucked right off. Or if I never even existed. But you, the person who has every reason to stomp me into the ground and crush me with your very expensive loafers? You’re the one who claims to care.”

“I do.” I risk stepping closer.

This time she doesn’t back away. And when I enfold her in my arms, she comes willingly, throwing herself against me with a sob.

“Shh.” I soothe a gentle hand down her back, relieved she lets me comfort her. “Baby…”

“Why do I let that asshole get to me?”

Because with her mother gone, she’s alone in the world. No wonder she keeps trying to win even scraps of affection from the people with whom she shares blood. She’s desperate for family and acceptance. I can give her that…if she’ll let me. It may not be perfect. It may not be what she hoped for. But she will have people always in her corner.

What about love?

I don’t know. Am I in love with Sloan?

I can’t say unequivocally that I’m not…

When another trio of businesspeople trek down the hall and gawk at us across the atrium, I glare through the floor-to-ceiling glass until they have the good grace to look away before disappearing into their suite.

Then I kiss the top of Sloan’s head and lift her face from my chest. She resists. I know she doesn’t want me to see her cry. But I don’t take no for an answer. “You’re upset. I know. But this isn’t the place to unload.”

She sniffles and wipes her eyes dry, putting on a brave face. “You’re right.”

“Let’s get out of here so I can take care of you.”

“No. I’m fine. I need to stop bawling, get my résumé together, and start applying for a new job. My apartment may be small, but it’s expensive enough that I’ll be living under a freeway overpass by the start of summer if I don’t keep income rolling in. You should probably call the airline and see if you can move up your return flight to Maui and—”

“You don’t want to give up this fight, and I’m not going to let you. You blackmailed me into helping you save Reservoir. Let me do it.”

Sloan looks at me like I’m crazy. “How?”

“Tell me how to get in touch with Bruce Rawson.”

Her eyes go even wider. “I’m not letting you fight my battles for me.”

“Do you want Shane to succeed in destroying this company?”

She sighs. “Fine. I’ll talk to Mr. Rawson. Maybe I haven’t tried hard enough to make him understand that Shane—”

“If he hasn’t pulled his head out of his ass for you yet, he’s not going to.” In fact, my guess is that his oldest son has already called and poisoned the well against Sloan. I’m not sure anything she says will change the old man’s mind.