I took a step back, needing out. Out of this conversation. Out of this room. “Thank you,” I started. “Thank you for saying so. But I should really—“

“This is what I always wanted, you know.”

At that, I stopped my retreat. “What you can’t have?”

His lips parted, breath drawn to speak, but whatever he was going to say died. “This wasn’t what I signed up for. She wasn’t what I expected. None of it was.” A pause. “I can’t help but feel like I’ve made a terrible mistake. We had a life together, a future, and I threw it away. I threw it away, and I can’t seem to remember why. But seeing you like this, with that … gardener?” He said the word like an insult. “Everything feels crystal clear for the first time in a long time. If I asked you to give me another chance, would you do it? If you were with me, would you be this … effortless? Undemanding? Would you give me what you’ve given him?”

What I’d given Kash he had earned simply by loving me. What I’d become was because of that love. And that could never be duplicated, least of all by the man standing before me.

Before I could tell him no in ten languages, slap him hard enough to leave a mark, knee him in the groin, or all of the above and in no particular order, a door at my back squeaked open and closed. Guests. Guests were coming, walking through the door, and here I had Brock groveling.

We stepped aside, and I glared at him, furious and sad and anxious to get away.

“We cannot discuss this here and now. I have work to do.”

“Later. Can we talk later?”

I paused, weighing my options. Saying no would delay me. Telling him all the ways he could go to hell wouldn’t do well for my future at Archer. Saying yes would be a lie.

“Text me tomorrow,” I dodged, turning to go.

“Maybe we can get coffee. Talk things over.”

I opened my mouth to let him know there was zero chance of that, but before I could speak, one of my interns approached with salvation on her wings.

And it was sweet enough, I could have given her a raise.

KASH

My hand slammed into the door, pushing it open hard enough to ping off the wall and rebound. I stopped it without looking, storming down the service hall.

I’d heard the whole thing, the acoustics in the atrium too good to have avoided it, which I desperately wished I had. When I’d come into the room looking for her, I’d seen her with him and paused. He was too close, too familiar with her as he waxed poetic about her beauty and grace like he hadn’t neglected her. As if he hadn’t betrayed her so cruelly. Unforgivably.