At the car, Donovan reached down to open the back door, and then held it so I could get in.
I paused at the curb and met his eyes, the door a barrier between us. “So no going down on Sun in the car tonight then. What a pity.”
He didn’t flinch. “You’re the one I’m putting in a car, Sabrina. If that’s how you want to spend the drive, I’m more than happy to oblige.”
A shiver ran down my spine that I hoped he didn’t see.
“I’m getting in the car to talk.” But maybe I didn’t mean that.
Did I? How strong could I be in Donovan’s presence? Could I be as strong as I needed to be?
“Get in the car then.”
I guessed we’d find out.
I slid across the backseat until I got to the other side and buckled myself in. It was a sad excuse for a barricade, but I pretended it would keep me safe. As long as I stayed on my side, and he stayed on his side, everything would be fine.
But then he got in next to me, his long legs taking so much more space, his very being taking up even more space. He filled the car. There was no escaping him. He was everywhere—beside me, in my skin, on my tongue. I couldn’t breathe without inhaling him.
I needed to do or say something to remind myself what the situation was.
“Just because I’m leaving with you doesn’t change the fact that you came with her,” I said, bitterly as the car pulled away from the curb.
He studied me a moment. “I came here for you.”
“Because you just happened to know I’d be at Gaston’s tonight? That makes perfect sense. Bring along your girlfriend. That will show Sabrina what’s what.”
“I came to the States for you.”
My heart tripped.
It had to be bullshit. “And you proved it by going out with Sun the minute you got here. I completely believe you.”
“I didn’t go out with her romantically,” he said tersely. “I called Weston when I landed. He said your sister was in town. I didn’t want to interrupt your evening. I planned to see you tomorrow. Meanwhile, I needed to negotiate some terms with Sun. We’ve hired her to be the face of the campaign for the merger in Europe, and she’s playing hardball with some additional requests.”
“So you thought you could wine, dine, sixty—”
He cut me off sharply. “It was dinner, and I’m in the goddamn car with you. I came back for you.”
I looked over at him. The car was dark, but there was enough light from the street to see his face. His crushingly handsome face. He seemed tired. Jet-lagged, probably. His scruff was maybe older than a day. His jaw was also tight, like it got when he was frustrated. I wanted to reach out and run my hand along the muscle. Wanted to feel the warmth of his skin burn my fingers.
I didn’t really have any reason not to believe him.
He’d called her first, but his reason made sense. If he’d really wanted to be with Sun instead of me, wouldn’t he be with her now? If he said he’d come back to the States for me…
I’d been so wrapped up with Sun I’d forgotten about the rest. This was the first time we’d been together without the veil. I knew about the file. And he knew that I knew. There were so many bigger things than Sun between us, and if he’d come back for me, was it to…explain? To try to make up a lie? To convince me not to press charges for invasion of privacy?
“Why?” I asked outright. “Why did you come back for me?”
“Don’t play dumb, Sabrina. You called me.”
“I called you, but there could be a dozen different ways to interpret your response when you show up like this. You could have just called me back.”
“I thought this discussion deserved a face to face, don’t you?” His tone was controlled and even and a little bit threatening, and I wondered for a moment if I should be scared of him.
But I was always a little scared of him. Didn’t I like that about him?
I crossed my legs, trying to ignore the pulse between my legs. “Face to face so you could seduce me into believing whatever you wanted me to believe?” If that was his plan, he needed to come up with a new one. I had my seatbelt on and everything.
“I thought it would be easier to talk honestly.”
Something in my chest pushed out, like it was reaching. Like there was a part of me that was still holding out hope that we could put everything out on the table, and there’d be a way in there that we could be together.
But I knew better.
A of all, given the lengths he’d gone to, putting together my file over the years, I couldn’t be entirely sure he wasn’t a psychopath.
B of all, I’d already tried the honest approach and it had failed.
Besides, I knew the truth. I didn’t need him to admit it, and I didn’t believe for one minute that he would. But if he wanted to play the honesty game, then fuck it, I’d play his game.
I’d tell him his truth before he had a chance to tell me any other story.
I twisted in my seat so I could stare him dead in the face. “You want honesty? How about this for honesty—I know what it means. That you have all that stuff on me. I already know what it means, so don’t bother trying to come up with some story to excuse it.”
He tilted his head in my direction, humoring me. “Really. What does it mean?”
I stared him right in the eye. “You love me.”
“I do.”
He’d spoken them no louder than anything else he’d said, and yet those two words echoed through the car like he’d shouted them into a canyon.
“Oh,” I said. My chest felt heavy. And hot. I was hot. “Oh,” I said again.
I looked down, suddenly feeling dizzy and shaky and a little like I was going to throw up.
“Can you handle that?”
I looked back up at him, jolting when I met his eyes again. “I don’t know.” Fuck. I hated that he could see how vulnerable he made me. “I mean. You don’t even know me.”
He raised a brow. “Are you sure?”
“A file of papers about me isn’t knowing me.”
“I realize that.” He leaned closer, close enough that I could smell the faint scent of his aftershave. “But I knew you then and I know you now. And I know.”
My entire body vibrated in agreement, as though the cells within me were able to admit something that my brain refused to acknowledge.
Donovan Kincaid loved me.
I’d believed it, deep down, I’d thought it was the only thing that made sense. He’d loved Amanda and he’d done the same things with her. The pieces added up. It was a rational conclusion.
But emotionally I hadn’t been so sure.
I dropped my gaze. My head was rushing back through everything, putting this new frame on every experience we’d shared together, seeing it through the lens of he loves me, trying to feel if it made sense.
Two weeks ago all I’d wanted was a chance that he might feel more one day.
He’d hurt me. Pushed me away. Pissed me off.
“If you’re so in love with me, why did you insist that a relationship between us was impossible?”
He pressed his lips together. “You’ve discovered that I’ve been stalking you and meddling in your personal life for the last ten years, and you’re concerned about why I didn’t want to have a relationship?”