Always Will: A Bad Boy Romance Read online

  “No,” I say, a hard edge to my voice. “You sent her up there with a faulty chute. A fucking beginner.”

  “She was completely safe,” Sam says. “Our ground crew was in constant contact, relaying instructions, and Selene handled herself perfectly.”

  “She was not safe!”

  Selene puts her hand on my arm but I shrug her off. I’m so angry, I want to kill these assholes. I whip around and rip my jumpsuit off, tossing the last of the gear on the floor as I make my way to the exit. I have to get the fuck out of here before I hit someone.

  I sit in my car, gripping the steering wheel, until Selene comes out a few minutes later. She gets in the car and fastens her seat belt.

  “Ronan—”

  “No.” I don’t want to hear her tell me she was fine. She was not fucking fine.

  She closes her mouth and sits back in her seat. I start the car and drive out of the parking lot, heading toward the freeway.

  Selene is quiet on the drive back to Seattle, looking out the window with her fingers resting against her lips. I almost can’t look at her. The quick glances I take out of the corner of my eye make me feel like I’m going to lose control and panic again.

  Logically, I know Selene was okay the entire time. A reserve deployment isn’t uncommon, although it’s unusual in a beginner jump. I’m still livid that they gave her that chute. An experienced jumper can handle a reserve deployment. It happens to anyone if you jump often enough. I’ve had five, but I’ve jumped hundreds of times. But she never should have had to face that.

  But logic doesn’t fucking matter. I saw her. She was free-falling well past the right altitude. If she hadn’t been able to get her reserve chute to deploy, if anything else had gone wrong, she would have crashed to the ground, breaking every bone in her body. The image of her lying on the ground, bloody and broken, won’t leave my mind.

  I can see it all: The blood marring her face. The limbs at odd angles. Her blond hair matted.

  No. Selene doesn’t have blond hair. That was Chelsea.

  Fuck, I’m losing my mind. I haven’t let myself think about that in years. Now the vision of Chelsea mingles with the nightmare of Selene hitting the ground. I can’t separate them. I turn, forcing myself to look at Selene. She’s not dead. She’s not hurt. She landed perfectly. But I blink, and the image is there. Pain. Blood. Death.

  I can’t get it out of my head.

  25: Ronan

  Bourbon isn’t helping.

  I took Selene home after the skydiving incident yesterday and made an excuse about not feeling well. I went home and tried to bury myself in the bottom of a bottle, but I woke up this morning both hungover and still panicked. My attempts at distraction did me no good, and I couldn’t bring myself to send Selene a text asking her how she’s doing, let alone see her.

  I lean my head back against the couch cushion and close my eyes. The weight of her trust sits heavily on my chest. It’s not just that she trusted me enough to jump out of an airplane with me. Maybe if this had happened earlier, before I realized how vulnerable I’d become with her, it wouldn’t be hitting me so hard. She’s trusted me with everything. Her career. Her body. Her heart. Her life. Her entire fucking life. There’s nothing she has that I don’t permeate, now that I’ve broken in.

  Because break in is exactly what I did. She put up a wall between us when I first came back to Seattle. Brick by brick, I pulled it down, never taking no for an answer. Fuck, she was dating some other guy, and I still pursued her. I got her to agree to stay single. I maneuvered to have lunches and dinners with her as often as I could, pushing against the boundaries she tried to set between us. I wormed my way in, sure that she would be glad when I did. When I conquered her.

  When I won.

  And once she let me in, I took everything. I’d like to think I earned her trust, and remained worthy of it, but looking back, I don’t know. I tempted her, teased her, convinced her to do things she might not otherwise have done. I tied her up and had my fucking way with her, and I loved every second of it. But she let me. She gave me that power. She handed it to me willingly.

  Just like she followed me onto that airplane.

  The responsibility is too much. I hold her life in my hands and if I fuck this up, in any one of a million ways, I could destroy her. I could ruin her career. Maybe I already have. Did her coworkers lose all respect for her because they know I fucked her on top of my desk? I could break her heart. I’ve never been a man who could commit. I’ve always lived for the chase, the thrill of a challenge. What do I do now that the pursuit is over? Now that I have her, what is left? I don’t know how to be that guy. I’ve never done it before.

  I could have killed her.

  She’s made me afraid, something I haven’t felt since I was a stupid kid. I used to feed off the fear, but since it left me, I’ve thrived. I’ve taken risks no one else will take, and many of them have paid off. They’ve paid off big, and I can’t afford to be weak now.

  I swallow the last of the bourbon, my head swimming. I can’t be responsible for someone else’s career, their life, their happiness. It’s too damn much. I know how easily it can be taken. It can all be gone in a second. One fucking second and everything changes.

  One second, and everything is gone.

  26: Selene

  Ronan’s office door is closed, and Sarah isn’t at her desk. It’s early, so she’s probably not here yet. I stand outside his door, wondering if I should knock. Or just go in. I haven’t heard from him since he dropped me off after skydiving on Saturday. No calls. No texts. Ordinarily, that wouldn’t be a big deal. But he also wouldn’t look at me when he took me home, just mumbled a goodbye, and said he wasn’t feeling well. Since then, silence.

  I know he was angry about the chute failure. Hell, I was terrified. Those lines sprang up around me, one slapping me across the cheek and snaking across my goggles, and I knew something was wrong. Everything was twisted, and I didn’t feel the harness tighten around me. The chute wasn’t opening.

  The voice of the ground crew was calm and focused. It took me a few seconds to recover, but once I did, I followed the instructions. I remembered the training, and jettisoned the main chute. I pulled the reserve, and it did exactly what it was made to do. It opened above me, and I was jerked upward, slowing dramatically. The rest of the jump went perfectly, with the ground crew guiding me down.

  It was a frightening experience, but the fear was already dissipating by the time my feet hit the ground. Until Ronan. I’d never seen him like that before. Wild-eyed, panicked. I can understand that he was worried, but he’s an experienced skydiver. He knows that sometimes you have to deploy the reserve. He told me that himself. I was prepared. I knew what to do, and the crew knew how to get me to the ground safely. Everything was fine.

  Ronan apparently did not think it was fine. But that doesn’t explain why he went dark on me. Why he didn’t return my call yesterday.

  I’m worried about him. He was so tense, so out of control. I figured he just needed some time to himself, but as I stand here in front of his door, I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I wonder if something else is going on.

  I take a deep breath and knock. No answer. I know he’s here. I’m not too proud to admit I circled the parking garage, looking for his car when I arrived. I knock again. Maybe he’s in the building but not in his office. He could have gone down to the lobby for coffee. Or be talking with someone from one of the other departments. He isn’t always in his office.

  But it’s barely after seven. Hardly anyone else is here.

  Although it feels like an intrusion, I grip the door handle and push. Locked.

  Either he’s locked himself in, or he’s not in there. I go back to my office and send him a message. Hi. Can we talk?

  I get caught up with work for a while, although the fact that my message goes unanswered isn’t far from my thoughts. I walk by his office again, on my way to the copy machine, and Sarah is at her desk. Ronan’
s door is still closed. I almost ask Sarah if he’s in, but for some reason, I can’t make myself do it. The longer I go without hearing from him, the more anxious I get. I’m afraid of what she’ll tell me.

  I have an afternoon meeting, and I glance at the list of invitees after I get back to my desk. Ronan is listed as attending. I wonder if he’ll show up.

  He’s not in the conference room when I arrive at two. I take my seat and scroll through my emails while I wait for it to begin.

  The meeting gets going, and Ronan finally slips in, taking a seat in the back of the room instead of at the conference table. I glance at him, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. My stomach turns sour. What is going on with him?

  I try to pay attention, but I’m too preoccupied. Ronan sits where I can’t see him without turning all the way around, but I feel him there. I can picture him leaning back in his chair, his elbow bent, his hand on his chin.

  Finally, the meeting ends. I get up and turn in time to see Ronan’s back, heading out the door.

  What the fuck?

  This is getting ridiculous. I follow him back to his office, forcing myself to walk normally so it doesn’t look like I’m chasing after him. I don’t want to look pathetic in front of the whole staff, but my stomach churns with worry and a dark sense of foreboding follows me. I can tell by the rigid set of his shoulders that something is wrong.

  Very wrong.

  He passes Sarah without a word and goes into his office, shutting his door behind him. I follow, struggling to keep my composure. He better not lock the damn door.

  I turn the handle, and it opens.

  He’s already sitting at his desk. I don’t wait for an invitation. I walk in and shut the door behind me.

  Ronan looks up at me, but doesn’t hold my gaze. He goes back to something on his laptop. A sudden flash of anger replaces the worry.

  “Are you serious?” I ask.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re going to completely ignore me?” I ask. “I’m standing right here.”

  “I know you’re there,” he says.

  “Well, say something. What’s going on?”

  “Selene, I’m very busy this afternoon,” he says. “Can we talk later?”

  His voice is so cold, I’m instantly chilled. “Is this about Saturday? Because honestly, I’m fine. It was a little bit scary, but nothing bad actually happened.”

  “It isn’t about Saturday.”

  Something about the way he says that makes my shoulders tighten. It means I’m not imagining things. There’s an it. A problem.

  I have a feeling I’m about to get hurt.

  “What is it, then?” I ask.

  “I really don’t think we should do this right now—”

  “Yes, we should.” I cross my arms and stand my ground. He’s going to tell me what’s going on, and he’s going to do it now.

  He rubs his chin. “Saturday made me realize something. I crossed a line with you that I shouldn’t have.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask. “Skydiving was my idea—”

  “It’s not the fucking skydiving,” he says, his voice low. He gets up and turns to the window. “I’m not what you need, Selene. I can’t be what you need.”

  My chest tightens. “What are you saying?”

  He puts his hands in his pockets and stares out the window. “I’m not right for you. I can’t be the man you need me to be.”

  I stand there like an idiot, watching him, my mouth hanging open. He’s breaking up with me. He’s fucking breaking up with me.

  Tears burn my eyes, but I swallow hard to regain my composure. I refuse to lose my cool in the office, no matter what happens. I take a deep breath to make sure I’ll be able to speak clearly.

  “Why?” My own question takes me by surprise. It isn’t what I meant to say.

  “I just can’t.”

  “That’s not an answer.” I can’t keep the edge from my tone.

  “It’s all I have. I made a mistake with you. We work together, and I pushed you into this. I shouldn’t have.”

  “So, that’s it?” I ask. “You’re ending it, just like that?”

  He doesn’t answer. Just stands there, looking out the goddamn window.

  If he won’t answer me, I won’t say anything else either. I turn and walk out the door.

  By the time I get to my office, I’m shaking. I don’t even pretend I’m going to stay. I gather up my things and head straight for the elevator. My heart races and I feel like I can’t breathe, but I keep my face completely still. I’m sure I have massive resting bitch face right now, but it’s a hell of a lot better than breaking down in tears in front of everyone I work with.

  I get home, and rather than feeling like I need to have a sob fest on my couch with a bottle of wine and a tub of ice cream, I’m strangely calm. Empty. I’m hollowed out, like I left everything in Ronan’s office. He gutted me with those words, and didn’t leave enough behind that I can feel anything anymore.

  Usually when I get dumped, the first thing I do is call Kylie. She comes over and we drink too much and badmouth the asshole who screwed me over. But this time I leave my phone in my purse, and don’t even text her.

  This time, it’s different. Ronan was different.

  I’ve heard men tell me they were crazy about me. I’ve had men promise me the world. Even when I thought I was crazy about them too, I never really believed them. Deep down, I saw them for who they were. I knew they’d wind up leaving me. But when Ronan said it—when he said he loved me—I actually believed him.

  Out of nowhere, the tears come. I sink down onto my couch and close my eyes, letting them trail hot tracks down my face. I’ve never been hurt like this before. Not by the guy who was cheating on me. Not by the guy who ditched me for his ex while he was on a date with me. Not even by the guy who planned to move in with me, then decided he couldn’t handle the commitment. I thought I’d had my heart broken before, but none of those men had my heart to begin with. They couldn’t break it. I was disappointed and hurt when those relationships ended, but I was usually more upset with myself for trusting them in the first place.

  Ronan had my heart. I bared my soul to him, offered him all of me. I thought he wanted it. I thought he’d take care of me, be gentle with my fragile pieces.

  Apparently he can’t.

  27: Selene

  I don’t go into the office for the rest of the week. I can’t face it. I work from home just enough to keep up, but it’s hard to stay focused. Kylie and I do our usual get drunk after a breakup thing, and Braxton fumes with anger for a while until we convince him to drink with us. But my heart really isn’t in it. I don’t want to sit around and badmouth Ronan, and I wake up with a wicked hangover the next day. I love Ky and Brax for it ,though. They’re always there when I need them.

  Some people say rules are meant to be broken—or at least bent—but in this case, I should have stuck to my no dating coworkers rule. I don’t care how intense an attraction I felt for Ronan. It blew up in my face, exactly like I thought it would.

  Back at work on Monday, I have a momentary panic in the elevator. Is everyone going to know? Are they going to watch me walk by and turn to whisper to each other as soon as they think I’m out of earshot?

  Did you see Selene Taylor? She was having this crazy affair with the boss, but he dumped her, and then she showed up at work a total mess.

  No one gives me a second glance as I walk through the hallway toward my office, so I figure I must appear more or less normal. I’m dressed in a fitted white blouse tucked into a slate-gray pencil skirt and my highest heels. It’s actually one of my least comfortable work outfits—the skirt is a bit too short for my long legs, and I have to be careful about how I sit. But there’s something about it that feels like armor. I might be crumbling to pieces inside, but on the outside I look fierce.

  I haven’t made a final decision about my job, but I clearly have a choice to make. Do I stay, and try to find a way to wor
k with Ronan? Or do I leave a job I really love and find something else?

  I’m honestly not sure what I should do. I’m extraordinarily fortunate in that I don’t have to worry too much about money. I own my house outright, and my parents left Braxton and me a trust fund. I’m seriously considering taking a few months off, just to figure out what I want to do next. I thought VI was my future, but I screwed that up when I screwed the boss.

  That’s a mistake I’ll never, ever make again.

  If I do decide to leave, it won’t be until after our big presentation. That isn’t about Ronan anymore. I’ve been spearheading the project as much as he has, and the development teams for both companies are counting on me. I can put any awkwardness between Ronan and I aside long enough to get through that meeting. But afterward … I’ll have to decide what to do.

  I figure my best bet today is to caffeinate heavily and focus on my work—and avoid walking by Ronan’s office at all costs. The morning goes by in something of a blur. The lead engineer comes to me with issues, so we have an impromptu meeting with some of his staff and get the details hashed out. Before I know it, I’ve worked well past the lunch hour and haven’t heard a word from Ronan. It’s like he’s not even here.

  This is good. The less I see of him, the better.

  Then, at the end of the day, there’s a soft knock at my door. I look up to find Sarah.

  “Come on in,” I say.

  “Thanks.” She sits down across my desk from me and crosses her legs. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you know what’s going on with Ronan?”

  “I…” I falter for a second. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Look, I’m not very good at dancing around a subject,” she says. “I know you were keeping it quiet, but he told me about the two of you. And I know you’ve been out of the office, but he has been an absolute nightmare to deal with since last week. I’m probably really stretching the limits of appropriateness here, but I was hoping you might know why. He isn’t telling me anything, and … to be honest, I’m kind of worried about him.”