Page 85 of Donovan's Men

“Possibly.” I yanked the phone out and checked the screen. Pressing accept, I met Tyson’s brown eyes with pupils blown wide. “You’re on speaker.” As I said the words, I hit speaker.

“And you’re with…”

“Hi, Donovan.” Tyson’s voice was a little hesitant. A little breathless.

Donovan chuckled. “Oh, please tell me I’m interrupting something.”

Interestingly, Tyson’s cheeks flamed red.

“You are.” I said the words tentatively.

“Fucking hell. I’m stuck on the sound stage, and you guys are up there generating all kinds of heat?”

“We…uh…” Words failed me.

“Look…I know we need to talk. That maybe you’re even using sex—”

“Not sex.” Tyson said the words while holding my gaze. “Not yet, anyway. For that, we need you.”

“I was going to say we need to talk.” Because that was always my go-to on any highly charged emotional issue.

“Action now. Talk later.” Tyson’s light-brown eyes glittered.

Interesting. Clearly, he’s been to see his boss.

As I had. I could only imagine what he’d faced. In some ways, my punishment didn’t feel hard enough. And even though Allie and Smith had ended the meeting in a lighthearted discussion about BDSM—and wasn’t that a mindfuck—I had left despondent. Unwilling, or unable, to share much with my men. “Yes. Talk.”

“Later.” Tyson stroked my cheek. “When you’re here.” He held my gaze but said the words to Donovan.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to—” Donovan started.

“Why’d you call, Donovan? How did you know?” I cut him off. Because I was damn curious how he’d intuited that this exact moment was the right one to call.

He chuckled. “This is my third call to Hamish this morning.”

Slowly, I nodded.

“And I planned to start calling you this afternoon.” Tyson to me.

“Don’t you have, you know, work to do?” Me to Donovan.

“Julie’s on a break. She’s shooting a scene with anothergood guy. Who turns out to be bad, but that’s for another day.”

I swallowed. Hard.

“We’ve got time. Filming with Cole won’t resume for weeks—or even months. He’ll have restrictions as well. I’ll be working with his doctor and his physiotherapist. But he’s going to make it back.” He said the words with an absolute certainty.

I didn’t know Cole as well as Donovan did, but the man’s determination had struck me from the first. As much as I believed he might need more counseling, in some ways he was dealing with the trauma better than Donovan. Both carried guilt—but Donovan was the one who refused to admit he’d saved a life. At least Cole could acknowledge Julie could’ve been grievously wounded if he hadn’t knocked her to the ground and protected her with his body.

“Before we get together again, there’s something you need to know.” I cleared my throat. “I filed a report about my behavior to the College for Psychologists. They’re likely going to do an investigation, and there’s a chance I’m going to lose my license. I’m on suspension from work until this is all resolved.” I clenched my jaw. “My bosses aren’t thrilled, to be sure, but they’re not horrifically upset either.” I waited, but no response came. “In fact, they’ve met you a couple of times and had some interesting things to say about you.”

“This college thing is bullshit. I’ll tell them what happened. I’ll tell them I never saw you as my counselor. I’ll tell them…” Donovan let out a frustrated sigh. “Fuck this shit.” His voice trailed off. Then he gasped. “Who did you say your bosses are?”

“Alessandra and Smith MacLean.”

More resounding silence.

“Well, shit.” Donovan chuckled. “Yeah, I know them. What did they, uh, say?”