Conceal

“Just in case of what?”

“In case you are being tracked. We have to be careful. But that doesn’t mean you can’t use this when I’m not around. Just don’t sign onto the company server.”

“Okay.” I grab the computer and place it on my lap. “Can I use it to read gossip?”

“Seriously?” He looks shocked.

“No, not seriously. Don’t you know me at all?”

“Actually, not really.” His words stun me because it’s true. He knows nothing about me, other than the bits and pieces I’ve told him these last few months, and he’s still doing this for me. I know this was the goal when I first started to spend time with him, but it feels hollow now. It makes me feel like a selfish piece of shit. “But I know the important stuff. I know what makes you smile. I know that you love Kit Kats and grilled cheese sandwiches, even though you’ll never admit it.” His words should make me feel better, but they don’t.

“Why are you doing this for me?”

“Because I can.”

“That’s not enough. I’m putting your life in danger, and you don’t even know me. I was using you. I see that now. I was doing something selfish, and you were selfless.”

“I’m used to people using me.”

“I don’t want to be that person. I can’t let you help me.”

Jax takes the computer from my lap and puts it on the table.

“Here’s the thing . . . the fact you admit that means you’re special. I choose this because I care about you, and I want to help. The fact you trust me and don’t want me hurt shows you are worth the risk.”

“I—”

“No, Willow. All my life, people have not taken me seriously, but you were never like that. Not since the moment you met me. Stop trying to convince me otherwise. You have always seen me.”

“I do see you.” I move closer and place my lips on his.

“I see you too.” Kiss. “Now, no more objections.” Kiss.

“Okay, but one thing . . .”

“Yes?”

“What are we doing? I know I’m not in the right place for a relationship . . . I don’t want to lead you on.”

“You aren’t. Why define what we’re doing? We’re taking comfort in each other. For however long we need to. Let’s not put titles or labels on it, okay?”

“Okay, but does that mean we can do it again?” I smirk.

“Yes.”

“As much as I want?”

“Hell yes.”

And then I lean up again and press my mouth to his. “Like now?”

“Fine.”

And against his mouth, I laugh.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Jaxson

I was full of shit.

As much as I said I was done . . . here I am, yet again.

There is nothing worse than a Monday too. If hell was a day of the week, this is the day it would be. Still stuck in the weekend haze, the last thing I want to do is this damn report that is front and center on my desk. No. I would much prefer a naked Willow on my desk.

See. Now that would make Monday a damn good day of the week.

My fingers tap as I search through countless files on a potential buyer for our property in Moscow. Grayson had emailed me earlier this morning to do some intel on the Russian billionaire who wanted to buy an abandoned warehouse we have in the city. But as per usual, we are picky with who we sell to. So I’m looking into all known associates.

I’m typing when my cell phone vibrates on my desk. I halt my movements and check the screen.

Willow.

Seeing her name has a smile spreading across my face. I take my hand off the keyboard to answer and give Willow my full attention.

I’m about to say hello, I hear her scream in the background.

Instantly, I’m on high alert, my blood pounding in my ears as I think of the reasons she could be screaming.

“Are you okay?” I ask as I close my computer and stand from my desk.

She doesn’t answer right away, but I hear a scuffle and then the sound of a plate dropping.

I’m not sure what’s going on, but I think she dropped her phone. I’m out the door to my office and in the elevator before she can call me back. Thankfully, I don’t get stuck in traffic as I make the trip downtown to her apartment building.

I try to call her a few more times, but it goes straight to voicemail. The worst scenarios play out in my head. Has her husband found her? Is she hurt? When the cab stops in front of the building, I throw him fifty dollars, well above what the fare is, and holler over my shoulder to keep the change. Then I’m running down the street into the building. Luckily for me, there’s no security, and I’m banging on Maggie’s apartment door within a minute. The door flies open and there stands a disheveled and upset Willow.