But as much as he tried to convince himself, he couldn’t help but worry, couldn’t help but want to step in and live up to his last name. It was ridiculous of him because he was one of the people in line who wanted her destroyed — or at least he had been one of the people in line.
He tried to assure himself that as soon as her life wasn’t in danger — if it even was —he would be able to send her away without a second thought. He had wanted to mess with her the way she’d messed with his brother. But now the victory he thought he would feel over breaking her was leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.
He wasn’t certain how he’d made it home; he sure as hell wasn’t concentrating on his driving. But there he was, and he parked and went inside. The change of scenery didn’t change the tenor of his thoughts, however. He really needed to just let this go. But no matter how many times he tried to convince himself of just that, he couldn’t do it, couldn’t lift his phone and tell her not to come into work, that she could go back to her accounting business, free and clear, with a great reference from him for a job well done.
As Byron lay in bed that night, he told himself it was only because he hadn’t extinguished the need he felt for her. A few more times in his bed and he would have his fill and send her on her way. Without her there, however, he spent a restless night tossing and turning, the little sleep he managed to get marred by nightmares with McKenzie drifting away.
So when he walked into his building the next morning, he was exhausted, and more of a bear than usual. At least his team of employees knew him well enough to read the look on his face. Not one person tried to speak to him as he stormed past to his office.
They knew it was best for all concerned if they let him be.
Byron sat at his desk and attempted to get down to some actual work, or at least to look as if he were doing so. After ten minutes of this wasted effort, he gave up and stood. He needed to know that McKenzie was next door, right where he’d told her to be.
Standing in her doorway, he felt his spirits lift slightly when he saw the exhaustion lining McKenzie’s face — her night hadn’t been any better than his. Had she missed him the night before as much as he had missed her? What other reason could there be?
Then he remembered one, and worry set back in.
What if someone had come back to her house? No. She was sitting in the offices. She was fine. Or maybe she wasn’t. Anyone would be rattled by the events of the day before. She certainly had real emotions. Maybe he just wanted those dark circles to mean she had missed him.
“The driver I sent for you said you weren’t there,” Byron remarked.
She looked up, but by the expression showing on her face, she’d already been aware he was there. He knew the feeling. She simply had to be nearby and he could feel her presence.
“I took a cab to work. I told you I don’t need your help,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion.
“Dammit, McKenzie! I’m losing my patience with you,” he snapped as he stepped into her office and shut and locked the door.
Her face blanched, and she sat back, eyeing him warily. “I’m sorry. As I said, I shouldn’t work here anymore, Byron.”
“What you should do is tell me what in the hell is going on.” He toned down his anger, but he wasn’t leaving this office until he got some sort of answer from her.
“I don’t trust people,” she finally told him, her eyes filling with tears.
“Why not?” He waited.
Her tears evaporated, and she gave him a stubborn look. “It doesn’t matter, Byron, but I know better than to rely on anyone but myself.”
“You can’t do your job if you are holding this much stress inside, McKenzie. The best thing you can do is tell someone.” He took a chair and set it next to hers, making her face him.
“I can do my job just fine. Work is what keeps me focused,” she said.
“Look, I’d be happy if I didn’t give a damn about you. I’m trying not to. But we have…something going on between us. I need to know what is happening in your life.” Byron immediately wanted to take those words back, but they were out there, so he sealed his lips together and waited.
“Don’t waste your time feeling anything for me, Byron. My life is messed up, and you know that only too well. We’d be nothing but trouble together,” she said with a bitter laugh.
“I have never told any other woman anything remotely close to what I just said to you. Don’t make me regret it.” He grabbed her hand and rubbed his thumb on the delicate skin of her palm. She inhaled deeply and tugged on her hand, but he refused to loosen his grip. “Talk to me,” he demanded.
Her lips parted but nothing came out of her mouth. She took another breath, then looked away from him for several moments, focusing her eyes out the window. He waited.
Still she said nothing to him, and short of violence he didn’t know how to get through to her. Really, he didn’t need to do this to himself. “I’m trying to be a decent guy, and you’re pushing me away,” he finally said.
Silence again ensued for so long that he wondered if she was going to speak to him at all. Then she turned and looked at him, so much sadness in her expression that it shook him to his core, making him wonder if he’d gotten anything at all right about her.
“I just want to get back to work,” she finally said, defeat coming through loud and clear.
“Then work it is…for today.”
He left her office. Byron had a lot to think about — a lot of things he didn’t want to think about. He had no idea where this was going with McKenzie, but he knew one thing for sure: the surprises weren’t over. She was getting closer and closer to talking to him. She eventually would.
Chapter Twenty-Three
McKenzie was still sitting motionless at her desk fifteen minutes later. Just the thought of working seemed insurmountable; forget about actually doing the work. She had been so close to speaking with Byron, to sharing everything with him, but she knew that would be a monumental mistake. Men like him couldn’t be trusted – hell, very few men actually could.
She didn’t trust him or his motives, and she suspected that he was trying to gather evidence or something like that to use against her. She’d be a fool to forget that, to open her life and her heart to that man. And she’d been a fool one too many times already.
She picked up her cooled-off coffee and took a drink. She didn’t even care that it tasted like crap. She was only in it — or vice versa —for the caffeine.