Page 73 of Discretion at Its Finest

“I know that.”

“Yet you still chose him.”

I had no defense for that. Because he was right and there was nothing I could say that would make that truth hurt less for either of us.

“How did you know?” I asked instead of responding.

He watched me silently, processing the question. I half expected him not to answer at all given the arrangement of this so-called conversation.

“The timeline didn’t add up.” His jaw flexed. “Every thought I spent three years burying came back all at once. And the moment I saw Eugene and the more time we spent together, I listened to those thoughts.” He folded his arms. “And when the opportunity presented itself, I stopped pretending this didn’t matter because I needed to finally know once and for all.”

I swallowed hard as his eyes pinned me. “Reid,” I whispered, “…I-I know you don’t want to hear this for the millionth time… but I truly am sorry. For leaving you… not giving you the truth you deserved. For everything.” My voice shook despite my effortto keep it steady. “I know sorry doesn’t change anything and I know it doesn’t undo what I took from you. But I needed you to hear me say it.”

His silence answered me, infuriating silence that felt loud in the room. Then he shook his head. “I’m not going to forgive you, Genevieve.”

The finality in his tone landed harder than it should’ve. My chest tightened painfully. “I—”

He stood, cutting me off. The chair scraped against the floor as he rose, every controlled movement unhurried, the space between us diminishing as the air tensed.

“You don’t get forgiveness because you’re sorry,” he said calmly. “And you don’t get it because you’re finally honest.”

I pushed back instinctively. “Then what do you want from me?” I moved to my feet, standing now, my pulse racing as he closed the distance one agonizing step after another.

He stopped directly in front of me, close enough that I could feel the heat of him making my skin feel electric. “I’m not interested in words,” he said. “Empty apologies, empty promises, none of them.” He stepped closer. “I want what should’ve been mine all along.”

My throat burned. “I don’t know how to give you that.”

His gaze dropped to my mouth. Then back to my eyes. “That,” he said, voice lowering, “isn’t my problem.”

His lips ghosted my cheek. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest against mine.

“You spent three years lying to me,” he murmured. “Choosing safety over truth…Him over us.“ His hand lifted, fingers grazing my jaw, tilting my face up to his. “And now you think words will fix what you broke?”

I shook my head, unable to speak, and felt cold the second he dropped his hand from my face, his expression turning emotionless. “Exactly,” he breathed. “Because they won’t.”

He took a step back. “Genevieve, you need to prove to me that you truly want my forgiveness.”

I shook my head. “I already apologized, Reid,” I whispered. “I begged you to forgive me. I told you everything you needed to know. What more could you possibly want from me?”

His eyes darkened as he watched me, that sadistic look in his eyes growing as he spoke the command that undid me right there.

“Kneel.”

Chapter twenty-eight

Genevieve

“Kneel.”

The command hung in the air between us as the room fell silent. My breath hitched. “What?” I whispered, and his expression didn’t shift. He was serious?

“Actions speak louder than words,” he said. “Your lies aren’t enough this time. I need you to prove it.”

I shook my head, my heart racing but my legs feeling weak, betraying what ever willpower I had left. “This isn’t forgiveness.”

“No,” he agreed, his voice dropping lower. “But it’s as close as you’ll get to it with what you hid from me.”

The seconds dragged heavy between us. My legs wavered, shame and fury burning through me, and still he didn’t bat an eyelash—he just waited for me.