Taking a deep breath, I headed back the way I came. Just before I rounded the corner to where I left Rhys and my brother, the serious tone of his voice caught my attention and I stopped.

“I have a few men walking the perimeter of the building. If he comes close, we’ll get him,” Rhys said to Adam.

“I want to thank you for your work in this and for keeping Emma safe. I’ve never hired a bodyguard before, but I’m glad you were available for this extended period of time.”

My brain felt like it was instantly swelling, struggling to process what my brother was saying to Rhys.

“I sent contracts over to your New York office this morning,” Adam continued. “I’d like Striker Solutions to be Kinkade Enterprises’ security detail.”

I peeked around the corner just enough to see Rhys nod and my heart stopped. I felt dizzy and my face tingled like I had been smacked. There was no way I was hearing this right.

“Rhys?” I stepped from the corner and both Adam and Rhys looked at me. Rhys looked like he was caught in a firestorm and Adam’s expression was sort of sickly. Bad sign.

I kept my eyes on Rhys. “Did my brother hire you?”

“Just now?” Adam interjected. “Yes, I did.”

“No,” I said quickly. “I’m talking about me, and you know it.” I looked back at Rhys. “Were you hired to protect me?”

He didn’t frown like he’d misheard me or smile and shrug it off, saying I was being dramatic. He just stared. And one thing I recognized covered his face.

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Guilt.

“Yes,” he said and his voice broke a little. “That’s how it started, at least.”

“Started?” I breathed out, my world suddenly lacking enough oxygen. “When exactly did this start? After the night I came to your hotel room?”

He closed his eyes and looked down.

“No . . .” I shook my head, bile rising in my throat, threatening to make me throw up. “Tell me it at least started after that night.”

“Adam hired me the night before the gala.”

“You mean before we even met?” My heart dropped to my feet. That was the beginning. Before the beginning. Rhys approached me knowing I was a job.

“But it . . . how . . . no . . .” I was mumbling, couldn’t find any solid ground to stand on. “The night I came to your hotel, the night Mase almost got me in Times Square…”

“I was right behind you the entire time. I was about to take Mase out but you broke free and ran. I went after you instead of him.”

Reality hit. I had been running toward Rhys, and he was following me the entire time. That was why he came in after me. Because he was hired to do so.

“Emma,” Adam said and held up his hand. “I knew you were running. Knew that’s why you went to New York. You weren’t listening to me, to Kate, we couldn’t get you to tell us anything or come home. I just wanted you to be safe. Rhys came highly recommended and — ”

“Did he?” I choked out. “I’m so glad he was a good choice for this setup.”

The only thing my brain would churn out right then was every moment, every experience, I had shared with Rhys. Everything I’d said . . . felt . . . all of it just left me the fool.

“It was all lies,” I said, water creeping up behind my eyes.

“No, Emma.” Rhys stepped toward me and I backed away. “Everything that happened between us was real.”

I looked at him and for the first time, I couldn’t hold back the tears. I didn’t cry when I was roofied, didn’t cry when I thought I was being followed, didn’t cry when the apartment got broken into. But there, standing in front of Rhys and realizing what a pathetic person I was . . .

I cried.

“You were unprofessional.” I repeated the words he had said and now the meaning finally kicked in. I hadn’t thought anything of it. But it was a slip. One I’d missed. That was why he’d tried to pull away that week. Because I was a job.

I hadn’t known it, but I was trading something for his protection. And the cost was far greater than what my brother was paying.

“There’s nothing professional about us, baby.” Rhys stepped forward again, but I backed away. “You’re so much more to me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I was going to once all this was done.”

“I trusted you.” I felt sick. So incredibly sick. Yet he looked at me like I was the one who sucker-punched him in the gut.

“I know. I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said.

I shook my head. “I hate it when people say that. Because that’s exactly what you did. And you knew it. The whole goddamn time.”

I swiped the back of my hand under my eyes, turned and ran into the ladies room and broke down. Crying for everything that hurt. All of it didn’t hold a candle to what had just been delivered.

The pain took me to the floor. Slicing over and over, cracking my ribs and burning my throat. I let it spread through me and eat me alive, because it was the only thing left to feel. All the goodness, the ignorant bliss of believing there was something between Rhys and me, was replaced with sharp stinging jabs of loss.

Lies.

All of it.

Every moment we connected, every time he looked at me, every ounce of his warmth, every sweep of his hands against my skin . . .

Lies.

I hated him. I loved him. The warring feelings were tearing me apart from the inside out.

I was never wanted from the beginning. Hell, before the beginning. I wasn’t wanted when I was still part of my mother. I wasn’t wanted by any family or foster home, and I was never wanted by Rhys.

I was a job. A f**king job. He was hired to watch me.

I should have listened to my gut the first ten times it told me that I didn’t belong with a man like Rhys. Didn’t belong in his world. Instead, I did the one thing I’d promised myself all those years ago that I’d never do: I hoped for more.

Then I stupidly trusted him to deliver on that. Stupidly believed that I deserved more, deserved what other people found so easily.

Picking myself up, I gripped the sink and hung my head. Nothing made sense anymore. Running from my past didn’t matter because it felt like my future had just been ripped from my hands. I needed to get away. I needed to testify and get out of there.

Though leaving now would have been preferable, I had to do my part to keep Castor locked up. If he got out and hurt someone else because I didn’t say something, that would be on me.




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