Page 104 of Discretion at Its Finest

He sighed. “Vieve—”

“If you can still run Silicon Valley, we can still be together.”

“We can’t,” he said finally, and a sob climbed my throat. I tried to swallow it down and failed.

He cursed under his breath, his hands on my face, thumbs catching the tears before they fell, tilting me toward him. “I hate seeing you like this.”

“Then stop saying things that make me cry,” I whispered.

“I will.” His thumbs brushed my cheeks slowly. But we both knew the promises he couldn’t keep would only grow the longer he was here. And like a lovesick fool, I held onto them because a promise he couldn’t keep felt better than nothing at all.

Chapter forty-one

Reid

Ishouldn’t have been fucking touching her. We were discussing my exile, relocation and inevitable disappearance. Her whole body was already trembling under my hands all while we were being watched on the camera by the guards.

She was sitting on that cot, small and exhausted, a little rounder than before, softer… but her calves were tight, her ankles swollen. The moment my thumbs pressed into the arch of her foot, her whole body loosened.

She tried to hide it, tried to sit still. But I could see the way she exhaled, the little shaky relief in her shoulders.

I dragged my palm back down along her calf, kneading gently, working upward.

“Reid…” she murmured, almost scolding, but her toes curled as my fingers pressed deeper, finding the pressure point she always complained about over our daily calls. Her eyelids lowered. She leaned back on her hands just slightly.

I swallowed hard, jaw tight.

She had no idea what she looked like right now—how undone, how vulnerable, how warm her skin felt under my hands.

I shouldn’t have touched her more.

But I did.

My hands went back to the curves of her thighs. “You need to take better care of yourself,” I muttered, and she winced slightly when I hit a pressure point before she immediately tried to pretend she hadn’t.

If it were up to me she wouldn’t leave my sight. She’d be somewhere I could watch her eat, watch her sleep, make sure she was drinking enough water and not spending her mornings hunched over a toilet alone while Gregory slept through it all.

“You’re not sleeping again, you’re still not eating enough, your body is sore—”

“I told you I’m fine.”

“How was the nausea this morning?”

She rolled her eyes. “Reid.” When I waited for her response, she let out an annoyed sigh. “Manageable.”

“You said a couple days ago it was getting better.”

Her lips pressed together. “Do you have to remember everything?”

I didn’t respond. She looked down at my hands on her thighs, then back up at me, something soft and unbearable in her expression.

“If it were up to me,” I said quietly, “you wouldn’t be leaving this room or my fucking sight.” Her breath caught as I shook my head. “But it’s not. So after this, you’re going to go home, eat something real, take a bath and put your feet up. You hear me?”

“…You sound like a husband,” she whispered, and my jaw clenched as I said nothing. Because if I was her husband, life would’ve been different. If I was her husband… I’d have more restraint. Not wanting to give into the thoughts that wanted to make use of this room and what little time we had together. I’d be able to ignore my throbbing cock knowing I’d have her all to myself each night. I wouldn’t need to listen to my urges…

But I wasn’t her husband…

And right now… I had no more self control to act like I was. In an instant, my hands left her thighs and slid under her arms, fingers curling around her ribs, and her breath stuttered in her throat.