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VIVIAN DIDN’T KNOW how long she stood near the counter, hands hooked over the edges, gripping until her fingertips were numb. The turmoil that raged in the back of her head over the past week surged to the forefront of her mind. All of it punctuated with a single statement.
I don’t understand.
She shook the thoughts aside and made her way back to the bedroom. She showered. She dressed. She tugged at the sheet on the bed. Maybe she’d do laundry and wash Damon’s scent from the blankets.
Despite the stakes being so much higher now than fourteen years ago, the decision didn’t seem more clear cut. She wasn’t simply proud of what she’d earned in her career, she actually loved her job. How many people could say that? Besides, quitting a job because of a man—no matter what man, or the fact she’d find new work quickly—meant giving up parts of her life for him. That thing she swore she’d never do. Women who ignored their friends for a guy needed to move on. But it wasn’t love if she wasn’t willing to make some sacrifices.
She sank onto the corner of the mattress and dropped her face into her hands. Love. Was it, actually? The hollow pit where her heart should beat said it was, but maybe she was fooling herself.
A voice she hadn’t heard for years echoed in her head. Her mother’s. I love him sweetie... He says he’s sorry... It won’t happen again... He says it’s for the best... I deserved it.
But he’s not like that. He’s different. Vivian screamed in the empty room, as her own justification mingled with that voice from so long ago.
The last place she needed to be right now was in her own head, so time in the dance studio in the other room was out of the question. She might as well do some work. Tomorrow she’d be stuck in a conference room during office hours, and she had to finish making sure things were ready for the audit before then. Focus on work. The mantra repeated in her head. She shot down any follow—up thoughts about work being part of the problem, or suggesting she call Damon instead.
She set her laptop up on the desk at the far end of her bedroom and pulled up the information from Tate again. Where was she? Her mouse cursor hovered over a .pdf. It was the same one that caught her eye the other day, but she couldn’t figure out why. She double clicked the file again and studied the contents. It was the NSS email newsletter, about their new crowdfunding website. The ad had gone out to their subscribers the day after Tate started having trouble with his pilot groups on similar software.
It had been irritating, but the site issues weren’t exactly proprietary knowledge, so it made sense NSS would strike while Skriddie was recovering. Something about this email though...
Fuck me. She grabbed her cell phone and dialed Jared.
“Yeah?” Didn’t matter how many years he worked as a top executive, he never answered the phone differently.
Vivian smiled at the familiarity. “Crowdfunding. Did you ever fix the security issues with the cloud-based apps?”
“You’re working on a Sunday afternoon?”
She laughed. “Because you’re playing video games with your girlfriend?”
“No. I got tired of being sniped and then tea-bagged. I’m catching up on some of Tate’s work.”
“See?” She had a feeling that would be the case. “Yes or no on the security?”
“No. Current technology makes the issue impossible to overcome. That’s why we scrapped the features around it. Unless someone in operations wants to give me the budget and manpower to fix it.”
Even though this was standard everyday business, talking to Jared helped her feel better. As long as she didn’t think about why she needed to feel better. “NSS fixed it.”
“No, they didn’t.” There was no hesitation or uncertainty in his response. “They’re either lying, or they don’t know the flaw is there.”
That was what she thought. This was all circumstantial, but it made sense. “Who set up the crowdfunding servers?”
“Mikki. You know that.”
“No. Not the patch job Tate pulled together. The original, the images—the stuff Marge Foster squeezed the bandwidth on.”
“Dewson. He does all that stuff. You know that too.”
She did, but she liked the confirmation. She also wanted to see if Jared reached the same conclusion she did, to confirm if she was on the right track or grasping at straws. “And who else was with us in Vegas? On the phone.”
“Dewson.”
“And who did all the server and network checks, when NSS started those rumors about holes in our security? And who else was up for the ethical hack job, when Mikki applied? The guy who wasn’t quite qualified. Who threw a fit when he found out. Who just bought a car worth as much as Tate’s Bentley on an IT salary.”
Jared’s exhale echoed over the line. “Fuck me.”
“Exactly.” She was right. Another piece slammed into place in her head and knocked her elation off-center. Asshole. “He knew, and he didn’t tell me.” The words came out more softly than she intended.
“Dewson?”
“Damon.” The first night they came back here. She’d asked him twice what had changed. Why he was willing to cross that line. This was the answer. It might not be true, but something sinking in her gut told her she was right.
“Why would he tell you?” Jared asked.
It was a good question. They’d spent more than a day together, barely pausing to eat, and never really to put on clothes, but that didn’t mean he would disclose that kind of information. It was part of what they’d agreed on. Why did it feel so much like a betrayal, then? Possibly because this was more than keeping a source’s name secret. “I don’t know. Thinking aloud.”
“We’ve always known they had someone on the inside.”
She was grateful to Jared for not pushing the out-of-place comment. “Do we think Dewson really did something like sell them our code?” Which was why it bothered her that Damon would keep this secret. It wasn’t even questionable ethics at that point. It was more than the is this okay? of someone spilling what they’d heard in a business meeting. This was a contract violation. Possibly theft.
He doesn’t owe you anything. He’s still the lawyer for the competition. And it was still just sex. That was why it hurt so much. Because it meant Damon had as clinical an approach to the whole thing as she did, but without all the haunting doubt and second-guessing.
“If we prove this, NSS has to settle.” Jared’s comment yanked her back to the conversation.
“I’ll call Legal and have them subpoena Dewson’s bank records. Get Hayden and Dewson in line for questioning.” Get back to business. That was what she needed to do. Ignore the acid devouring her gut.
“Let me know what I can do,” Jared said. “And Viv?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
She didn’t have to ask. He meant the comment she’d made about Damon. “It’s nothing. Talk to you tomorrow.”
She fired off an email to their legal team and tried to dive back into work, but her focus was shot. She didn’t have a right to be upset with Damon. If he knew, it wasn’t something he could share. Before a single bit of skin was exposed, they both understood talking about this case was off limits. Betrayal and doubt taunted her anyway. Besides, he might not have any idea Dewson was selling Skriddie secrets to his clients. She drew a lot of abrupt conclusions, based on a simple conversation in a restaurant, and they could all be wrong.
Conflicting opinions raged in her head, each trying to convince her they were right, until she couldn’t stand it anymore. She grabbed her phone and typed up a quick text to Damon.
You knew. Didn’t you? Wow, way to sound accusatory. That wouldn’t work.
Keeping something from me? This was a little too coy, obscure, and bordered on either flirty or psychotic ex.
She settled on, Did you know about Dewson?
Simple question. No accusation. A yes or no would suffice. He’d say no, and she’d turn this all back on NSS and go back to trying not to lose herself in the memories of the last few days.
The phone beeped with a reply. She reached for it, but hesitated, hand hovering over it. Waiting wouldn’t change the answer. She forced herself to look.
Yes.
The single word knocked the bottom out of her stomach, and she dropped her phone. It clattered to the desk. Of course he knew. As much as she wanted to believe the passion was real, the connection was there, and everything that came with the shared moments meant something, it was simply business and sex. Maybe she was overreacting and being irrational, but experience told her she was finally acting sane. The last week had never been anything more that stolen moments frozen in time.