Chapter 129

I should say no.

Miles is an engaged man, and after Garnar cheated on me, I’d have to be a real hypocrite to try to mend fences with Miles and repair our sexual relationship.

But what if that’s not what he’s asking for. All the message says is, Can we talk? That leaves everything to interpretation.

As far as I know, he might just want to give me an explanation. Am I owed an explanation? We were never anything official. We just had really good sex…

Yet even as I think that, my heart pangs a little. No, my own complicated feelings were never Miles’s responsibility. To him, we were strictly sexual, so an explanation shouldn’t matter.

But that’s not fair either. Miles and I, on top of our casual sex, were also friends. He was there for me many times, including with Iris and when Amber cornered me. He’s even saved my life in the past.

I tried to be there for him too, listening to his worries and the hardships he faced while on the campaign trail. Is it right for me to turn my back on him now, just because my heart is broken?

What if he needs a friend?

“Shit,” I curse under my breath. I set the phone face down on the desk, determined to ignore it at least until the end of work.

Forcing myself, I concentrate on finishing my work and somehow succeed, despite my distracted glances at my phone, to send off my final article of the day to Kimberly.

When her final thumbs up comes back to me, I exhale in relief, even as my heart now starts to pick up speed. There’s no more reason to delay responding to Miles’s text.

I have to say yes. Somewhere between writing the final paragraph of the article and checking the word count was within parameters, I decided.

Miles might need something from me. Hurt as I am, that’s not his problem. Given what we were, he deserves more from me than my own foolish heartache.

So, lifting the phone, I unlock the screen and reply, Okay.

I gather my things from my desk and put it all in my bag to go home. On my way to the elevator, my phone dings again. I shake my head, realizing I still forgot to put it on silent. Then I check.

Meet me here, reads the text, followed by an address. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t be followed.

That’s ominous, but I’m committed at this point.

Okay, I reply.

The address leads to an old library on the outskirts of town. By the time I reach it, it’s past regularly business hours so the doors are closed, the lights off. I might think I’m entirely in the wrong place were it not for the familiar security guards I see at the front door.

Those two are part of Miles’s security detail. This has to be the right place.

I pull my car into the closest parking space and then hop out. One of the guards approaches me and sticks out his hand.

“Your car keys,” he says.

Glancing back, I’m legally parked.

At my hesitation, he adds, “Your car shouldn’t be seen here. I’ll bring it back when your meeting is done.”

His imposing posture tells me that he’s not going to take no for an answer. I have two options here: either I hand over my keys, or I turn around and drive myself back home.

Not wanting to miss the opportunity to see Miles, even against my better judgement, I hand the security guard the keys.

“Proceed,” he says, and walks past me toward my car.

A lump in my throat, I move forward. The second security guard stops me at the door. Lifting her cell phone, she sends a text. Whatever it was, she doesn’t move again until her phone buzzes with a response.

Then, wordlessly, she opens the door and steps aside to let me through it.

Inside, I’m greeted by another guard, this time carrying a flashlight. “With me,” he says. He doesn’t wait as he turns around and starts walking the other direction. I hurry to follow him, not wanting to get left behind in an unusual place.

The space around me feels wide, but I can’t see more than an occasional chair or a bookshelf. This must be the lobby of the library. I feel slightly calmer as we turn into the stacks. At least now, I can see the walkway we are heading down.

When we reach a wall with a door, the security guard knocks.

“Come in.” I recognize Miles’s voice.

My heart picks up speed again.

The security guard opens the door, then as the other did, steps to the side to let me enter. When I do, he closes the door behind me, remaining out in the library.

The lights are on in this room, and I have to blink a few times for my eyes to adjust. When they do, I take in my surroundings.

This looks like a type of meeting room with a podium on one side and a slew of chairs dotting the rest of the room, facing it. No windows, landscape oil paintings cover the far wall, false windows of their own, I suppose. One offered a viewpoint into a mountain scene. The other, a serene lakeside.

Miles sat in one of the chairs in the front row, facing away from me.

“Miles…” I say as I take a step toward him.

He exhales. “God, I’ve missed the way you say my name.”

This compliment gives me the courage to take another step and then another, until I am standing by his side, looking down.

Peering up at me, his expression unreadable, he says, “Tell me what it made you feel, when you heard about my engagement.”

In reflex, I take a step backwards. “Why would you want to know that?”

He stands, immediately filling the space I created. “Because when you told those reporters you felt nothing for me, you were lying. I would now hear the truth from your own lips.”

He is angry, I can see it now, with the tumultuous waves in his ocean eyes and the way his perfect face and perfect expression do not match that at all. The rest of him is a shell but those eyes speak volumes. They drill into me with such intense focus that I shiver with chill.

“If you meant what you told them, then say it to my face,” he says. Reaching out, he snatches my upper arms in his tight grip. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you feel nothing for me.”

I try to. I even open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

“You can’t,” he accuses, and he’s right.

“Miles, I…” I don’t know what to say, or even what I could say that would free me from this moment.

Miles doesn’t wait for me to figure it out.

“I’ve heard enough.” Yanking me against him, he curls his arms around my back and lowers his mouth to mine. I push back at first, pressing my hands to his shoulders, but even that is a foolish, lying gesture.

I don’t really want him to stop. I never want him to stop.

He dips his tongue into my mouth and I’m lost. Wrapping my arms around him now instead, I pull him closer. I meet his tongue with my own, giving as much to the kiss as I’m getting.

I’ll hate myself in the morning, I’m sure. Maybe even before that.

But for right now, my body is overwhelmed with the relief and pleasure of seeing Miles again.

I succumb to that feeling, holding on for dear life.