His Secret Addiction

Chapter Sixteen

Alex's POV

Chris Morrison called on a Thursday.

I hadn't thought about him in months. We'd dated for eight months two years ago, ended badly when he took a job at a competitor firm and decided his career mattered more than we did. I didn't blame him for that anymore. But I also hadn't missed him.

"I heard what happened," he said. "The article, the investigation. I wanted to check on you."

"I'm fine. Thanks for calling."

"Can we get coffee? Just to catch up."

I should have said no. Instead I said yes, because it felt like an easier response and I was tired of complaining.

I didn't tell Damien. That was the mistake.

**************

We met at a place in Midtown that was neutral enough to feel safe. Chris looked good. Older, more settled. He ordered black coffee and asked about Maya with genuine concern, and for twenty minutes it felt like talking to an old friend rather than an ex.

Then he said, "I heard you're with Damien Cross."

"Where did you hear that?"

"Business circles talk." He wrapped both hands around his cup. "Alex, that man has a reputation. Cold, calculating, uses people when they're useful and cuts them when they're not."

"You don't know him."

"I know his business record. Three executives pushed out in two years. A CFO who quit and signed an NDA. His ex who went to the press—"

"His ex who betrayed him," I said. "There's a difference."

"That's his version."

"It's also the documented version." I set my cup down. "Chris, why are you really here?"

He was quiet for a moment. "Because I made a mistake two years ago. And watching everything you're going through right now, I keep thinking you need someone in your corner who isn't also your boss."

"I have people in my corner."

"Do you? Maya was your closest friend and she had a gun pointed at you." He leaned forward. "I'm not trying to start something. I'm saying you deserve someone uncomplicated."

"Uncomplicated," I repeated. "Like leaving without a conversation when a better opportunity showed up?"

He had the grace to look ashamed. "That was wrong. I know that."

"I'm glad you know that." I stood. "I'm also glad you're doing well. But I'm not looking for uncomplicated, Chris. I spent years looking for uncomplicated and I was miserable." I picked up my jacket. "I hope you find what you're looking for."

I left him at the table and walked out into the cold.

Damien knew before I said anything.

He was reading through documents when I got home and he looked up once, clocked my expression, and went back to his papers.

"You had coffee with your ex," he said.

I stopped walking. "How do you know that?"

"Ethan saw you on his lunch break. He mentioned it in the most unnecessarily detailed way possible." Damien turned a page. "He really needs to work on his discretion."

I sat across from him. "I should have told you."

"Yes."

"It wasn't anything. He wanted to reconnect and I told him no."

"I know." He set the papers down. "That's not why I'm annoyed."

"Then why?"

"Because you didn't tell me. After everything, after Maya, after the board meeting, your instinct was still to handle things separately." He looked at me directly. "I'm not your boss right now. I'm your partner. There's a difference."

The word partner landed differently than I expected. We hadn't used labels much. Everything had moved fast, then sideways, then into a criminal investigation, and somewhere in there the vocabulary had gotten lost.

"He said you use people," I said.

"He's not entirely wrong about my past behavior." Damien said it without flinching. "I kept people at a distance and called it professionalism. I wasn't kind to people who got too close." He paused. "I'm trying to be different with you."

"I know that."

"Then stop collecting exit strategies."

I stared at him. "What?"

"Chris. The separate apartment you still pay rent on even though you haven't slept there in six weeks. The way you keep your most important documents at work instead of here." He wasn't angry. He was just precise. "You're still building yourself escape routes. In case this stops working."

He wasn't wrong. I'd been doing it unconsciously, keeping small pieces of my life separate, untangled from him, just in case.

"Old habit," I said.

"I know. I have the same one." He stood and came around the table. "I bought this building three years ago. Pied-à-terre in Chicago that I've never told anyone about. Offshore account Marcus doesn't know exists." He stopped in front of me. "Mine are financial. Yours are logistical. Same instinct."

"That's either very comforting or very alarming."

"Probably both." He sat on the edge of the table. "I'm not asking you to close off the escape routes overnight. I'm asking you to stop building new ones and start building something here instead."

I looked at him for a long moment.

"The apartment lease is up next month," I said.

"I know."

"Don't renew it?"

"That would be a start."

I crossed the space between us. He didn't move, just watched me close the distance the way he always did, like he had infinite patience and all the time in the world.

"For the record," I said, "Chris was not even slightly tempting."

"I know that too."

"You're annoyingly confident."

"You find it attractive."

I did. I always had, even when it infuriated me. Even in the beginning when he was just my intimidating CEO and I had no idea he was the person I'd been talking to every night for three months.

"Next month," I said. "I'll let the lease go."

He pulled me in by the front of my jacket.

"Good," he said quietly, and kissed me.