I released a breath, and though it felt as if I was about to jump off a diving board into an empty pool, Lizzie, for all her loyalty, deserved to know the truth. Or, at least, some semblance of it, and how I currently felt.
“He makes me think love exists.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, Devlin.”
From our various discussions over the years on romance novels, of which Astley Publishing released several dozen a year, she knew I thought love was fiction.
“I’m so happy for you,” she whispered.
It sounded like she meant it. “You are?”
“Yes!” was her grouchy reply. “After all these years of watching you zoom your way through all those bimbettes who only wanted you for your wallet and for your name? Bet your ass I’m happy that you’ve found someone you care about. Does he feel the same way?”
I thought about our unorthodox beginnings, the roots of which were still fresh because we hadn’t known each other long enough for anything else to truly have a chance to blossom, and I thought about his patience, his kindness, and his humor in the face of the weird reactions I’d had to simply looking at him.
Star struck would only make sense if Micah was famous.
But that was how I felt. Just in reverse.
Struck by a star... not overawed by someone’s fame.
If I could think such thoughts, bad poetry was evidently in the blood—thank you, Mother. I cleared my throat and simply said, “I hope he does.”
Twenty-Five
Micah
He makes me think love exists.
I hadn’t meant to listen into his conversation. Had only meant to trudge in and take a seat with him as he worked.
I felt a little like a lost soul right now. Wandering from room to room, drifting about like I was a living ghost. I guessed that fit with the strange memories that kept flooding my mind.
Of her triumphant smile as she shoved her pussy against my face, coating me in her arousal.
Of her laughter as she found my cock hard—against my will.
Of her moans, her pleasure, her joy in doing what she had to me.
I didn’t think I remembered it, until from the recesses of my mind, the truth had struck, and with it, the ramifications.
I’d been raped.
Even as a gay man, even as woke as I thought I was, I just... I didn’t think it could be done, and certainly not this way. Not with a woman. But from what I’d overheard, this wasn’t the first time Rhode had done this, and the company was well aware of her past activity.
The fact that Rhode had done this before was quite clear to me.
I could remember the slick smile, the way she’d encouraged me to ‘drink up,’ and that strange excitement about her that had me feeling totally not happy with being the last one left on the Marketing floor.
It was all practiced.
She had it down pat.
Someone else had gone through this. Someone before me. Whose voice hadn’t been heard.
Would there be another someone else after me? Because my voice wouldn’t be heard?
The questions plagued me, especially when Devlin said, “I assume so,” in response to Lizzie’s query of, “Is Micah willing to go all the way?”
Just as I started to think he might persuade me out of it, he talked of bringing in a law firm that had represented previous presidents, that I’d only ever heard about because they were rumored to have a fixer, and I’d been curious when that fixer had been brought up on charges that had miraculously disappeared.
The conspiracy had flown around on reddit for weeks and, fascinated, I’d read more about Goldman, Berg, and Weiss. Knowing that Devlin was a client shouldn’t come as a surprise. Knowing that he was going to mobilize them for me? Consider me shook.
When he hung up the phone, his conversation with her blurred in my already shaken head. My brain felt like scrambled eggs looked, even days after the drugging, and I knew I was more emotional than usual because of that, but also because flashbacks were beginning to dog my steps.
My family had never been all that emotionally available. Stoic, was how I’d describe us. Stilted, maybe? Something that had only worsened when my father had started taking his religion a lot more seriously. My upbringing was probably why I’d been so accepting of Devlin from the start. I was used to robots.
But he wasn’t an automaton. And neither was I.
Slipping around the corner, I moved into his office. His attention darted from his computer screen to me. Immediately, he stood. Not to move me out of there, but like he wanted to hover around me. To fix me—make me feel better.
I wished it were as simple as that.
“Do you want something to eat?”
I almost smiled—he was suddenly obsessed with feeding me.
“I don’t. But thanks.”
He eyed me warily, then slowly took a seat again. “Are you okay?”
“What did Lizzie send you?” I queried, not wanting to bullshit as I headed for the sofa opposite his desk and slouched in it. “Something bad?”
“You heard the conversation?”
Our gazes clashed and held.
Slowly, I nodded. “Most of it. The sound wasn’t always great.”
Instantly, his mouth pinched into a taut pucker. “Christ.” He released a heavy, exhausted sigh and scrubbed a hand over his face.
“Who’s Robert?” Then, when he didn’t answer again, I peppered, “Why are you going on sabbatical? Are you going to let her take you to court?”
“Robert was Lizzie’s brother. Lizzie is my EA.”
I frowned. “I knew that already. Her brother? What does he have to do with this?”
“He worked for Rhode.”
While I knew what had happened, it didn’t mean I didn’t want to hear it from his lips. “Go on.”
His jaw worked as his gaze danced from me to the screen, to his desk, over to the window, to the fireplace and back again. His eyes pretty much pulled some disco moves as he looked anywhere but at me, and as pretty as this office was, with its clean masculine elegance, and sleek lines, it wasn’t that nice.
Eventually, he grated out, “I hate myself already, and even that isn’t enough.”
If he’d shown any anger at me, or had blamed me for raking up what was clearly a sore topic, I’d have walked out the door.
As it was, the hatred was self-aimed and he wasn’t going to shower anyone in the vicinity with acid as he spewed it.
“What didn’t you do?” That might be an unusual question, but it wasn’t what he’d done that was the issue here. It was what he hadn’t.
“Enough,” he said simply, as he pushed to his feet, then moved over to the window to stare down at the city.
“Enough, what?”
“She did to him what she did to you. When he went to HR to complain, they fobbed him off. Took no action against her. None at all. No one listened to him, so he made us hear him.” He cleared his throat. “He killed himself in his cubicle.”
“Fuck,” I whispered rawly.
“That about sums it up.” His nostrils flared. “The second I found out, I acted, but Rhode is... Rhode. I knew, no matter what we hurled at her, she’d sue. The board did as well, and they were more interested in covering up her shit because she’s good at her job. That wasn’t going to happen on my watch, but it took too fucking long.” He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You got hurt because of me. Someone else might have been hurt because I didn’t do enough to stop her.”