So, hedidnotice. But he never told Ezra, or the young Alpha would have used it as another blade to cut away at my defenses.
“The money was never the point.” I move to a nearby shelf, straightening books that don’t need straightening. Anything to avoid Aaiden’s penetrating gaze.
“Then what was the point, Mr. Knox? Or do you prefer Duran? Vescari?” Aaiden picks up one of my business cards from the small holder on a side table, examining it with detached interest. “Or is it Crane today?”
My pulse races, the sound of my aliases in his mouth a violation I wasn’t prepared for. “It’s Tobias here.”
“But is it your real name?” He sets the card down with precise movements.
“Are any of us ever just one person?” The question spills out before I can stop it, a truth wrapped in a philosophical deflection.
Aaiden’s mouth quirks in what might be amusement on a less controlled man. “Most people manage just fine with one.”
Aaiden closes the distance until only a few feet separate us. “Which brings me back to my question. Why not cash the check?”
I cross my arms to create a flimsy barrier between us. “I left as required. Does it matter why I didn’t take the money?”
“It matters. It was a significant sum.” His attention never wavers, searching for tells I’ve spent years learning to suppress. “Enough to start over somewhere far from here. Yet here you are, selling obscure books to a nearly nonexistent audience.”
“Maybe I have an appreciation for books.” I gesture to the shelves around us. “Maybe Tobias Crane is happy with his quiet life.”
“Maybe.” Aaiden doesn’t believe me. I don’t believe me, either. “Or maybe you couldn’t bring yourself to profit from walking away.”
The accuracy of his assessment sends a chill down my spine. Taking the money would have made the leaving real, would have transformed an act of protection into a transaction. I couldn’t stomach putting a price tag on my feelings for Ezra.
“Why are you here?” I ask again, trying to regain control of the conversation. “If you’re dropping by to ensure I keep my distance, consider the message received.”
“Is that why you left my cousin waiting in a garden at Halcyon Hall three months ago, after he risked his life to save yours, Mr. Mercier?” The use of my real surname stops my breath. “Because of the NDA?”
Shame burns hot in my chest, spreading outward until my ears ring with it. “I did what was necessary.”
“For whom?” The question holds no judgment, only curiosity, which somehow cuts deeper. “For Ezra? Or yourself?”
“For both of us.” I turn away, needing to escape his too-perceptive eyes. “He deserves someone with a future.”
Silence stretches between us, broken only by the tick of the ancient wall clock and the distant sounds of traffic outside.
When Aaiden speaks again, his voice has softened a fraction. “Do you love him?”
The question drives the air from my lungs. My fingers find the lip of a shelf, gripping wood as the room tilts around me. Three months of lying to myself, of building walls around memories of Ezra’s hands, his mouth, the way he whispered my real name over and over.
Ren, Ren, Ren.
I let out a bitter breath, knuckles white as I grip the worn counter. “I’m too old and in the wrong business to love anyone.”
Aaiden studies me with an unreadable expression. “That’s not a no.”
My chest constricts, ribs squeezing out my next breath. No, that’s not a no. It can’t be. Even now, with Aaiden standing before me instead of Ezra, I can’t form the lie that would set us both free.
I need an escape, a distraction from the raw nerve he exposed. My mind grasps for anything else to discuss and lands on the one person whose fate has haunted me since Halcyon Hall.
“How is Jade?” The image of the young Omega locked in a cage still visits me at night. Yet another ghost to haunt me.
A change comes over Aaiden’s face, a subtle softening around the eyes, a minute relaxation of his jaw, but in a man so controlled, it speaks volumes.
“He’s alive.” Aaiden moves to the window, staring out at the street beyond rather than at me. “Recovering physically. The psychological wounds will take longer.”
“Did they…” I can’t finish the question, unwilling to speak of the horrors that might have befallen him.