Charming Daphne

Eyes widened when I blew into the lobby of True Platinum International. I mean, I couldn’t blame them. A soaking wet woman wasn’t your typical sight in the swanky, marble- and glass-covered space at any time of the day, let alone 8 AM.

It probably didn’t help that I limped past reception, cursing out London cabbies and my new heels.

I raced into the mercifully empty women’s bathroom and started digging through the cabinets. There had to be a hairdryer in there somewhere. There was one on the twentieth floor where I worked.

If I set foot in my office looking like a bedraggled mess, right before I had to chew out Casey Jackson for his latest stunt, I’d never live it down.

Who the hell thought it would be a good idea to go on a rampage at an award show with thirty-eight cameras available to capture every tiny detail, and livestream it to millions of watching fans?

“Casey fucking Jackson,” I growled beneath my breath.

Friday mornings were supposed to be sedate. I’d dealt with enough fires in the last week. I didn’t need an extra surprise right before the weekend.

“Inconsiderate rock stars.”

My hand snagged on a black device buried behind a week’s worth of loo roll. Packages scattered as I hissed, “Yes,” and grabbed it before scooting out of the cupboard with care.

Definitely didn’t need to add a concussion to today’s shitshow.

No, I needed to get my hair dry and my skirt back into some semblance of appropriate for the walk across the busy lobby. Totally doable. Then I looked in the mirror.

Well, shit.

Maybe keeping my hair to my waist had been a bad move. The lot of it hung in drenched strings around my face. My makeup ran down my face. Not quite the look I wanted, even if panda circles did set my icy blue eyes off really well.

I glanced at the time on my phone.

“Fuck.”

Ten minutes. Ten minutes until I had to put an idiot know-it-all musician in his place.

The elevator would eat at least five of those while it stopped at every single floor.

“Shit.”

I pulled a wad of paper towel from the dispenser, turned on the tap, and frantically scrubbed my face. All the while, my gaze stayed fixed on the clock.

A minute down, and my heart was racing far too flipping fast to be healthy.

I dropped the crumpled-up, blackened tissues into the bin, chewing my lip while I tried to sort through the best course of action.

No point wasting time drying my suit. I kept a change of clothes in my office. I just had to face the mortification of the looks I’d get in the lift.

My face could stay bare, too. My boss might not like it so much, but needs must.

Four minutes.

I scooped up the hairdryer and rammed the plug into the socket, then I nuked my hair with the highest heat setting. The door opened while I bent over with my hair flung over to one side creating a curtain around me, muttering a string of curses.

“Are you alright?” a strong Scottish voice asked.

I straightened fast, directing a perfectly sane smile at her. She looked barely twenty-five, and if I didn’t look too closely, she could have been my sister.

Only I didn’t have one.

So really, letting her vaguely familiar features slow me down would be a stupid idea…

“Fine. A cab got me.” I shrugged before turning my back on her.

I tracked her in the mirror while directing the hairdryer back to the unruly mop of hair.

She frowned but said no more before disappearing into a stall. I’d been so fresh and optimistic when I was her age. Newly passed the bar and the perfect job lined up. An amazing boyfriend who also worked at the record label. We could have commuted together and shared our woes on hard days with very little explanation.

I have no idea why I romanticised it like that. It would have just been work… but I’d wanted things to fall into place so badly.

Until he sabotaged my chance of getting that job.

Pressure prickled behind my eyes and I glared at my reflection.

What the hell do you think you’re doing, going there?

I’d promised myself five years ago that I’d stop torturing myself with what might have been. I’d meant it then and I meant it now. Traitorous Matt Brodie had no place in my thoughts.

With my hair mostly dry and the clock screaming that I had less than two minutes, I swept my hair into as clean a bun as I could manage.

Handbag in one hand and phone in the other, I rushed out of the bathroom, my painful heels clattering against the hard floor while my fingers flew over the keys, texting my work wife.

Daphne: SOS. Got caught in the rain. Can you pull out my spare suit for me?

Dots danced in the chat box and I willed it to move faster.

A message pinged on the screen just as I barrelled into a hard surface. My heels slipped out from beneath me and I tipped backwards. My phone slipped from my fingers, clattering to the ground. Probably cracked the screen.

For fuck's sake, give a girl a break.

Arms wrapped around me, strong fingers dug into my sides stopping my downward trajectory.

“Sorry, lass. I wasn’t looking. Are you alright?”

My heart stopped as that voice swept over me.

With great hesitation, I lifted my head. My stomach churned with the certainty of what waited for me.

What the hell did I do to deserve this level of shit in one morning?

Matt’s familiar green gaze stared back at me with concern. Five years had aged him well. A scruff of a ginger beard covered his jaw, somehow making him hotter. How the hell was that fair?

His concern quickly morphed into something I couldn’t read. He righted me and I stepped away from him so fast you’d think he’d burned me.

“Matt,” I spat.

He rubbed his neck. Despite his rugged professional vibes, in a suit that hugged him a little too well for my imagination, old habits died hard. He’d held on to his tells, and I made him uncomfortable.

Too right he should be uncomfortable. Rat bastard had used his sway to keep me out of a job.

“It’s been ages, Daphne.” The way that brogue licked at my name almost sent a shiver down my spine. Almost. He knelt and picked up my phone. “I didn’t know you were working in the building.”

My eyes narrowed on him as he straightened. “Why did you need to know? You can’t get me fired from this one.”

I took the phone and brushed past him, striding towards the bank of elevators with determination. And maybe a slightly too aggressive swing of my hips.

I’m well within my rights to torture the ass.

A quick glance at my phone didn’t settle my nerves. My heart raced, the pressure centred in my throat, making it incredibly difficult to breathe or think.

Ivy had my suit, and Casey hadn’t arrived yet, so I had time. That should have relieved me.

Yet if I held my hand still, it shook.

Fucking Matt Brodie.

I’d worked in the building for six months, handling the legal damage control for the biggest of True Platinum’s artists. Of course, I’d known Rhiannon were signed to Pryderi Records, which TPI owned, but that didn’t mean I had to see Matt. Band managers didn’t spend their lives in this place.

Why was he even here?

I stopped in front of the elevators. A crowd of people gathered, eyes fixed on their phones, feet tapping impatiently while the lifts took their sweet time arriving.

A throat cleared next to me, and my eyes fell shut on a desperate plea for control. I couldn’t start shouting at my ex in front of the staff. He knew better. We’d closed this lid. He wouldn’t…

“Could we catch up later, Daph?”

“Not a chance,” I muttered, trying to keep my voice low.

I may as well have shouted it. Heads came up, and backs tensed in front of me. Every damn person in my vicinity was listening intently. Fuck.

I shot Matt a look filled with murderous warning. He just stared back at me with confusion.

The lift pinged its arrival and the doors opened. People in front of me filed on, and I edged forward, willing there to not be enough space for us both.

No such luck, of course. I don’t know why I expected anything more. The universe had decided to dump on me.

With my stomach sinking to the marble ground, I stepped into the car. The doors shut, and no matter how I moved, my shoulder brushed against Matt’s. Such an innocent, inconsequential touch should not have had my smutty mind racing into the gutter, but try talking sense after a morning of stress.

Matt tilted his head towards me and I held my breath, waiting for the sod to try and reason with me in a very public space.

“So how’ve you been?” Matt asked.

Every inch of my body stiffened. “You don’t need to talk to me.”

Matt chuckled. “Okay, but I want to.”

“Then stop the wanting, and shut up.”

By the time the nightmare ended, everyone in the building would think of me as a colossal bitch. And I would own it.

They didn’t know what this man had taken from me. They could judge all they wanted but Matt Brodie was dead to me.

The lift stopped on the third floor and a swarm of people cleared out. It barely dented the headcount inside the metal box. My neck itched with the pressure of their gazes, and I bit the inside of my cheek hard to stop myself from shouting at them.

Do not drag innocent people into your nightmare, Daphne.

“When did you start working here?”

I sighed as I turned my head to glare at him. “Seriously? I tell you to shut up and you go with that?”

He smirked. “Just curious, Nymphy.”

Why did one word have the power to cut me off at the knees? Surely that shouldn’t be possible. Yet the sound of that stupid pet name rolling off his tongue, wrapped up in that delicious accent, still made me weak in the knees.

“Stop calling me that. Stop talking. Stop looking at me.” I breathed in deep, trying to control the spiralling pressure behind the words. “Just stop.”

Matt’s brows rose, something a little too close to amusement shining at me in those deep green eyes. If he kept looking at me like that, I might murder him with my shoe.

The door opened again on the fifth floor, ridding me of a couple more witnesses.

Half a dozen suits remained, all of them now looking vaguely uncomfortable. Good. That’s what you got for eavesdropping on private, annoying and unwanted conversations.

“Thought we agreed to stay friends?”

“Fucking hell. You can’t quit can you?”

Matt turned toward me, giving up all semblance of relaxation and disinterest. “I’m highly confused, so no I’m not going to quit.”

I faced off with him too. Avoidance be damned. If he wanted to keep pushing, I’d give him what he wanted.

“If you wanted a friend, Matt, you shouldn’t have sabotaged me to protect your fucking ego.” My voice might have risen with each word.

The doors opened again on the eighth floor, and another two suits disembarked, shooting us odd looks over their shoulders. Oh yes, there would definitely be a company-wide memo going around before I got to my desk.

“You were obsessed with us working together, Daphne. And I was leaving the label.” He held his hands out at his sides in that universal sign of frustration. “I don’t understand you right now.”

“Oh yes, for your precious band. I remember.” I crossed my arms. “Hear that worked out well for you. Your new girl good with you never being home?”

His eyes narrowed on me and his jaw ticked. “I forgot how frustrating you could be.” He dragged a hand through his hair before turning away from me.

“So that’s a no then? Too bad.”

“Like you’re doing any better,” he muttered. Unfortunately, his words still carried over the annoying elevator music.

For a music company, you’d think they’d pump in some decent music. Probably too cheap to pay their own royalty fees.

“I am, thanks.” It was a total lie but he didn’t need to know that.

He spun around, smirking at me with far too much knowledge.

“Oh yeah? What’s his name?”

A name. I could pull absolutely any random name. It didn’t need to sound believable. He’d never bloody know it was a lie.

Yet nothing came and my tongue fused itself to the roof of my mouth.

“Thought so.” He shook his head and turned back to the door.

The lift stopped on the tenth floor and I glared at the counter. Could it not just make a run for the twentieth and free me? Why was that too much to ask of fate after all it had dealt me already today?

The remaining suits rushed out. With just the two of us left, the doors shut,' and we separated to our own corners. I frowned at the control panel, at the singular light highlighting our next floor. Why was he going to the twentieth?

“I didn’t sabotage you, Nymphy.”

“Stop calling me that,” I growled. I refused to look at him.

His calm demeanour chafed against my expectations. How could he be so unaffected by his own bullshit? I needed to get my emotions under control. I couldn’t keep ceding so much power to him.

“Okay,” he gritted out. “But I didn’t sabotage you.”

“Really? What would you call it when someone gets offered a job and then it miraculously goes away after she tells you about it?”

Matt dragged a hand across his face.

“’Cause I’d definitely call that sabotage, but what would I know? I clearly wasn’t a great judge of character.” I glared at him, all of that old hurt roaring to the surface. “You were so weird about it, too.”

I hadn’t thought I’d bottled it up. My friends had heard my woes on repeat back then, to the point that they got sick of hearing me repeat it. But with the amount of vehemence coating my words, I must have done.

And that pissed me off even more.

“Now c’mon, Daphne. You can’t write off everything we had over one thing.” He pushed off the elevator wall, his body tense beneath that slate grey suit.

I couldn’t stop my gaze from tracking down his torso. Couldn’t stop my mind from throwing up far too many images of his naked body, sprawled out in my bed.

“Watch me,” I muttered under my breath.

“Watch me?” Matt’s brows climbed. “When did you start acting like a toddler?”

My mouth dropped open and Matt’s eyes fell shut on a groan.

“Shit. I didn’t mean that.”

“No, I think you did. What else did you keep to yourself, Mattie?” I stepped towards him before sense could take control of my movements. “Maybe some idiotic belief that I wasn’t good enough for your record label?”

Matt surged towards me, denial written across his earnest face. It couldn’t be earnest. If it was, he never would have talked me out of a job. My instincts about this man had been wrong. I needed to accept that and if I couldn’t do it five years ago, now would be a good time to start.

The lift jolted hard, and the lights flickered. I lost my footing and almost fell into the doors. Strong hands caught me around the waist. Matt pulled me into his chest before bracing himself against the wall.

For the second time today, Matt Brodie saved me from a painful fall. Indignation flooded me, and I opened my mouth to demand he let me go.

Then the lift jolted again, bucking hard enough for my feet to leave the floor and ripping a scream from my throat. The blood drained from my face as the lights went out.

We couldn’t be trapped. It had to be a fluke.

I tried to relax, tried to will myself from Matt’s arms, but every inch of me locked up with fear. I’d never been trapped in an elevator, had no idea what we were meant to do.

Could we plummet to our deaths?

“Breathe, Nymphy.” Matt squeezed me, reminding me that he still held me. “It’ll be alright.”

Easy for him to say. He wasn’t trapped with the person who’d broken his heart.

Matt pressed the call button on the control panel a couple of times. With each attempt, the pressure in my chest tightened.

We were seriously trapped.

For all of a minute, I’d managed to convince myself that it was a drill. They were just testing us.

But the longer the silence filled the car, the more serious our situation became.

“It’ll be okay, Daphne.” He turned back to me, giving up on the call button entirely. “They’ll get us out of here. We just have to stay calm and be patient.”

I stared at him, shock slackening my jaw. He couldn’t be serious. Stay calm? In a metal box that could hurtle us to our deaths without warning?

“We aren’t going to hurtle to our deaths. There are safety mechanisms to stop that.”

My eyes widened as he answered the unspoken question.

“You’re an open book, Nymphy.”

“Stop. Calling. Me. That,” I ground out.

He nodded but said nothing more as he returned to pressing the call button.

I pulled my phone from my handbag. Ivy would get me out of here.

No signal.

Heart on the floor, I held the device up in the air, hunting fruitlessly for a signal.

Fuck.

Not only was I trapped with my ex, but I would also almost certainly be late for a very important meeting.

I knew I shouldn’t have gotten in the lift with Matt. Seeing him this morning had been unfortunate enough. He was a bad bloody omen.

No, I had to get out of here. I couldn’t lose another job because of him.

I dropped the phone into my purse and began searching for a way out. I scrambled towards the door. Digging my fingers into the seam holding the door shut, I tried to pull them apart.

It looked so easy on TV, but in reality, they didn’t so much as budge. And my efforts were rewarded with a broken nail.

“What are you doing, Daphne?”

I couldn’t focus on Matt, couldn’t stand still really.

“Trying to find a way out.”

My gaze scanned the tiny space, searching for options. Anything to help me escape Matt and prevent the latest destruction of my hard work.

The trap door in the ceiling.

I rushed towards it with the briefest flutter of excitement in my belly.

That excitement died when I stood beneath it and realised that I couldn’t reach it. I turned to Matt, studying him as I chewed my lip. Maybe if he…

Matt stared back at me with his brows raised and his arms crossed. “I am not lifting you up there.”

“Why the hell not?” I stamped my foot like the toddler he accused me of being earlier.

“What are you going to do? Scale the elevator shaft in a pair of designer heels and a mini-skirt?”

“This is not a mini-skirt,” I growled, focusing on the wrong thing.

“It will be by the time you get up there.”

“Fine, don’t help me.”

I turned my back on him, kicking off my shoes. If I could get up on the rail surrounding the lift, I might be able to reach the trap door.

With a barely formed plan, I gripped the rail and flung a foot up on the opposite bar. Then I froze. How the hell was I meant to get up without falling back on my head?

Matt’s arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me back away from the railing.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed? Just stop,” he muttered, his breath shaky against my neck. “Please just stop.”

I shook off his grip, bursting from his arms and spinning to face him. A distant part of me recognised that I wasn’t acting rationally, but it couldn’t compete with the fear.

“I’m not going to sit down and wait to die while you moan about how much better I could be.” A spark of anger lit inside of me and I grabbed it with both hands. Anything but the terror bubbling up, trying to steal my voice.

“I would never say something like that to you,” he said, his voice and his expression calm. Or as calm as one could be in our situation. “You were incredible, Daphne. I highly doubt that’s changed in five years.”

I snorted. “That why you robbed me of an opportunity?”

He sighed.

“You know you could have just told me you didn’t want to work with me?” I shrugged, pretending those words didn’t hurt still. “I never would have applied if I’d known you hated the idea that much.”

“I didn’t hate the idea. I just…”

“You just what?” I stepped toward him, my gaze riveted by the warring emotions on his handsome face.

His shoulders sagged. “We were starting something new. It was important, and working together would have ruined it.” His gaze roamed my face, searching for something, but hell if I knew what.

“So you should have said that. Instead, you turned into a crazy cryptic man.”

“Hardly.” He crossed his arms again.

“Oh? So trying to figure out if I knew people who worked at Cleo Records wasn’t you being cryptic?”

“Of course not, I was curious.”

I snorted. “I’ve seen you curious, Matt. It looks a lot different.”

Curious for Matt equalled sly smiles and focused attention. Instead, he’d given me frowns and sideways glances.

“We might have only been together for four months, but I knew you.” My hands landed on my hips while I scowled at him. “You couldn’t fool me that easily then, and you definitely can’t now.”

If I could never lay eyes on him again, I’d be a happy woman. My focus returned to the task of getting free.

“You actually think it would have been easy to work together?” Incredulity filled his voice. I didn’t turn around. He could talk to my bun. “You haven’t seen me when I’m stressed, Nymphy. It’s not pleasant.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter now.” I frowned up at the door. Maybe if I jumped? “And for the last time, stop calling me that.”

“If you stop thinking about getting up there, I will.”

“We aren’t bargaining here.” I glanced at him over my shoulder, glaring hard. “You lost the right to call me sweet things when you took control of my career without my permission.”

“What the hell do you want from me, Daphne? We’re stuck here, I can’t fix that. And I did what I thought was best for us back then, I also can’t change that.”

I froze at his words. Slowly, I turned on my stocking-covered heel, my mind running circles around those simple words.

He dragged a hand down his face and turned his back on me, completely obvious to the cogs turning in my head.

“Did you just…” I frowned, chewing over his meaning again. “Did you just admit to getting in the way of my job offer?”

He spun back around, his eyes narrowed. “I said no such thing.”

“Yes, you did.” I took a large step forward, stopping only when my finger pressed against his chest. “You did what was best for us? What the hell was best for us, Matt? Me not working at your bloody label?”

He shook his head.

“Do not lie to me right now. You already let the words slip.” I jabbed at his chest, punctuating each point. “For once in your bloody life, tell me the truth.”

He leaned back, his gaze focused on the ceiling while he released a measured breath. My guard went up immediately.

“Fine,” he growled before fixing those mesmerising green eyes on me. “It would have been a conflict of interest.”

“What?” I spluttered.

“What if one of my bands screwed up, and we disagreed over the solution?” His brows rose in question when all I could do was open and close my mouth. Shock stole my voice. “You would have had to act in Cleo Records’ best interest and I would have been acting for the band.”

“We would have —” I shook my head, struggling to form a coherent argument.

“What? Talked it out? Come to a compromise?”

I jerked my chin in agreement.

“What if the label’s best solution was to cut the band, and I asked you to advise differently?”

“You wouldn’t have.” I swallowed hard, not really believing myself.

“Would you be willing to stake your career on it?” His voice deepened, the words barely more than a rumble. Despite the severity of the question they still managed to send a spark of interest to my nerve endings.

I chewed my lip instead of answering, and he nodded, his lips tipping up in a sardonic smile.

“Didn’t think so.” He stepped away from me and my hand dropped back to my side, leaving me feeling oddly bereft.

“Then it’s a good thing we split up,” I muttered, cursing myself as the horrid sounds left my mouth. “I could never trust a man with no integrity.”

He laughed, the sound mirthless. “Should have known you’d take it that way.”

“How else was I meant to take you putting business before me?” I muttered, turning back to the emergency hatch.

Matt growled behind me. “Will you stop with that fucking trap door?”

He gripped my arm, spinning me around. I tipped my head back, staring into his face while he backed me to the elevator wall.

“I’m not going to let you hurt yourself, so stop thinking about it.”

My brows rose. “Seriously? You’re worked up about me getting hurt now?” I rose up on my tiptoes. “Maybe you should have thought of that before you screwed me over.”

“For the last time,” he bit out, leaning closer until our noses almost touched. “I didn’t screw you over.”

I opened my mouth, a retort on the tip of my tongue to reduce him to dust. He slammed his lips against mine before I could utter a single word. His tongue thrust into my mouth, claiming me and swallowing my startled groan.

For a second, I just stood there while he kissed me, while his grip on my arm loosened and his hands fell to my hips.

There’s a reason you should stop this…

The feel of those firm hands taking control of my body did me in.

My fingers glided up his torso and I leaned into him, leaned into the bruising caress of his lips against mine. I gripped his hair, urging him closer while he tugged me forward, fitting me perfectly against his body.

We were wild, punishing yet pleasuring each other with our bodies. A throb started in my core, begging me to get closer.

I whimpered when his lips left mine. It very quickly turned to moans as he trailed open-mouthed kisses across my jaw and down my neck. He sucked at the skin between my shoulder and neck, sending heated shivers down my spine.

My nipples hardened painfully against my damp bra.

More. Gimme more.

I tugged at his shirt, ripping it from his grey suit trousers. He grinned against my skin then he lifted his head and claimed my lips again. His hand dove into my hair, undoing my bun with very little effort. My hair fell, and he used it to his advantage, tilting his head and deepening our connection.

His other hand trailed from my waist down my thigh, to the edge of my skirt. The tips of his fingers grazed my leg, and the muscles clenched tight while heat licked my skin. He dragged the material up, up and up. Then he gripped my leg and lifted it, leaning into me.

My breath whooshed out at the satisfying press of his hardness against me. Matt held my leg high against his hip. He leaned back, watching my expression with hooded lids, while he rocked against me. My eyes just about rolled back at the first flutter of pleasure. He’d positioned himself perfectly to grind against my clit and with each rock, my ability to stay upright crumbled.

Matt wrapped his other arm around my waist and held me to him. He claimed my lips again, devouring every moan that escaped me.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

But it felt so good.

Pressure started to build inside of me and my eyelids grew heavier. Fuck, he was really going to make me orgasm in an elevator.

It should feel wrong. Yet it just made my need soar.

I ground against him, taking everything he was willing to give. His kisses slowed while he worked me towards the edge. It almost felt too personal, too soft.

I wanted the hard, passionate rush back. It felt safer.

My eyes fell shut as the orgasm finally tore through me. I sagged against him. My cheeks heated but I lacked the energy to push him away.

“You guys alright in there?” A male voice asked, invading the silence cocooning us.

My eyes flew open and Matt’s body stiffened against me. He released my leg before stepping back. He slowly released me, studying me but not really meeting my gaze.

When I didn’t collapse into a heap at his feet, he turned towards the control panel and the phone there.

“We’re okay for the minute,” Matt said into the phone, his voice surprisingly steady considering the size of the bulge in his trousers. “How long are we going to be stuck?”

“I’m not sure, man. It could be a couple of hours. I’ll try to keep you updated but the maintenance crew are about an hour away so sit tight for now.”

What else were we meant to do?

My gaze rose to the hatch above my head again.

“We’ll do that,” Matt muttered, his voice hard.

When I looked up, I found him glaring at me. Despite our history, despite the fact I should hate him, did hate him, I blushed.

Matt closed the door on the phone without breaking eye contact. The glow of the orgasm faded quickly but the need for more still thumbed through me.

And that pissed me off more than him glaring at me.

“Don’t do that again.”

His brows rose. “Don’t do what, exactly? Stop your stupid plans to escape or give you an orgasm?”

“Both.”

“You used to be reasonable after I made you come.” He sighed.

“You used to not be an ass. We can’t all win.”

His lips quirked in a smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. In fact, he looked sad. My heart twinged as regret flickered in my mind, but that just wouldn’t do.

I squashed it before it could fester and make me question my every choice with him. He’d made his bed, he could deal with the fallout.

The floor really didn’t look comfortable, but if we were going to be trapped for hours, I might as well sit. I settled in the opposite corner to him, leaning back against the wall and drawing my knees up.

At least my clothes had almost dried.

It wasn’t lost on me that, had I not dried my hair, I wouldn’t have gotten trapped in the elevator or run into him.

“Fucking fate.”

“What was that?” Matt asked. His brow furrowed.

“Nothing,” I muttered. “Nothing at all.”

He settled on the floor near me with a quiet grumble. I couldn’t catch the words, and I didn’t have the energy to care.

“Could you not sit on that side of the lift?” I pointed toward the control panel opposite me.

Matt didn’t answer. He leaned his head against the wall and shut his eyes.

“That’s the complete opposite of what I asked.”

“Nymphy, we’re going to be stuck here for a while, can we please just be civil?” He kept his voice low but I didn’t miss the satisfied curling of his lips at the thought of us being civil.

What we’d just done suggested we were more than civil. It suggested I’d forgiven him.

Which I hadn’t.

Because none of it made sense…

My mind whirled, throwing memory after memory at me. Something didn’t sit right about his story, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“What aren’t you telling me?” I muttered to myself, my eyes closed.

“What?”

I ignored him.

A reel of our short time together played through my mind. Both the happy moments and our explosive end. He’d barely fought me when I accused him of getting between me and the job back then. He’d just rolled over and taken it. Which, thinking about it now, made no sense.

For the majority of our time together, we’d been amazing. He’d been so thoughtful, helping me study for my exams and listening patiently while I worked my way through a difficult case. He’d kept me fuelled but distracted me when I needed a break and didn’t realise it. He’d always seemed to know I was near my breaking point before I did.

I almost let that realisation deter me from finding the thing making me uneasy.

He contradicted himself.

“Either you’re lying to me now, or you lied to me then,” I whispered to myself.

I glanced at Matt with such sharpness that his eyes clouded with concern.

“What is it?” He sat forward. “Are you okay?”

“Why did you tell me we’d make an awesome duo in the music world, if you thought it would be a conflict of interest?”

Slowly, he sank back against the wall. All the colour drained from his face, and I knew, I just knew I’d caught him in a lie.

“Which was it, Matt?” My voice hardened, the conviction of my beliefs fuelling me.

He rubbed his forehead. His eyes shut but his entire body tensed.

“You lied about the job, didn’t you?”

I shifted forward onto my knees, edging towards him like a moth to a flame. Staying put, keeping distance between us would have been the sensible thing to do but I couldn’t. I needed answers and Matt had never liked the pressure of someone getting in his face.

He opened his eyes and fixed me with a pleading look. I had no intention of easing up. So instead, I moved closer.

“If our relationship meant anything to you, Matt, you’ll tell me the truth.”

He shook his head, regret darkening his eyes. “I wish I could, but I signed an NDA.”

I sat back on my haunches. Shock rippled through me. That I’d got an answer. That he’d admitted to hiding something from me. But was it an admission that he’d ruined my chances at the job on purpose?

My head tilted to the side as I considered him.

“That’s why you asked me all those weird questions,” I whispered, the pieces finally falling into place.

He nodded but pressed his lips together.

“What did all those names have to do with your NDA?”

Matt groaned. “If I could have told you that, I would have done it five years ago and saved us. I can’t.”

Pressure built behind my eyes while his expression begged me to let it go.

“So you did throw us away for your job?” Somehow my voice didn’t break like my heart did.

Why did I let him have that power over me after all these years?

“No, Daphne, I—”

“Stop lying to me, Matt,” I snapped. “What did the NDA have to do with the job?”

Again he shook his head.

Pressure built in my throat, the need to scream in frustration unbearable. I never did that. I was the articulate, calm one. My words solved problems. But he made me want to tear something apart with my bare hands.

Instead, I forced myself to take a deep breath. Releasing it, I willed the frustration to go with it. I couldn’t figure him out if anger clouded my mind.

“The NDA wasn’t about hiring practices?”

He pressed his lips together and glanced away. His shoulders dropped while he focused on the doors, anything to not look at me. Well, tough shit, Mattie, all you’ve got is me.

I shifted position until I kneeled in front of him, so close I blocked his view of anything else. So close I might as well have been straddling him.

“I’m not going to let it go.” I leaned forward, placing my hands on the wall. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be in here and you know I can be annoying when I need to be. So spill.”

“I wanted to tell you then, Daph, but it would have hurt Rhiannon. The band was too new to deal with the kind of fallout it would have caused.” He begged me to let it go. Those green eyes bore into mine.

I almost felt sorry for him and then another piece of the puzzle clicked.

“You didn’t trust me,” I whispered, sitting back again.

My gaze focused on the pinstripes running through his trousers. I couldn’t look at his face. Bad enough my eyes were wide, mirroring the shock squirming painfully through my chest.

“I loved you, and you didn’t trust me to keep my mouth shut.” I glanced up at him, my lips flatlining. “We didn’t really stand a chance, did we?”

“Yes, we did.” He reached for me as I shuffled back to my corner, missing my arm by inches. “Daphne, listen to me.”

“No. What would be the point?” I held my hand out to stop him when he tensed. “We clearly aren’t going to agree. You won’t tell me what could be so bad you’d let an NDA come between us, and I think you’re full of shit.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“All you wanted to protect was your precious band.” I shook my head. “Let’s stop talking. I’d really like to not stab you with my heel, Matt, but keep pissing me off and I just might.”

He didn’t believe me, of course. I didn’t believe me. The words lacked any kind of strength.

The man had always been able to take me to emotional highs. It was exhausting and I needed to numb myself against it, against him. We would never agree. Continuing to try only wasted my breath.

Matt settled back against his corner and let his head thump against the metal wall.

“If I ever see that piece of shit again, I’ll be the one committing murder, Daphne,” he muttered, his voice so low I had to strain to catch them.

I frowned at the wall in front of me. What the hell was he talking about?