Page 21 of Broken Beauty (Beauty 3)
“It hasn’t been substantiated, and nothing will happen unless it is. But if there’s anything you want to tell me, now’s the time.”
Oh God, this was a nightmare. A true nightmare. “No. I came up with this, all of it. The only references I used are listed here.”
He studied her for long minutes. Finally he nodded. “Then there shouldn’t be a problem. I must admit, I was skeptical that you would do such a thing.”
“I would never.”
“No.” He seemed thoughtful. “I don’t think you would.”
“Please, what’s going to happen?”
“Quite frankly, if this situation is what I think it is, nothing. The only way the committee would act is if there’s clear proof. Generally that is provided at the time the accusation is made.”
But not this time, she understood. She managed to take her leave without completely falling to pieces and embarrassing herself. Two buildings away, she found Blake’s door. The frosted window etched with his name was dark, the office empty. Relief was cold and tight in her belly. At least she could be alone for this. She sat down on the chair outside his office, the same one where she’d waited for him those weeks ago. Then she’d met him inside. Now she scribbled a note.
Can’t do this anymore. Too risky. I’m sorry. – E
Other words wanted to be written. Love you, miss you. Help me. But she didn’t dare. The break needed to be clean, or she risked Melinda’s wrath. And maybe this was for the best. It was Blake’s reputation. His career. And hers. Their love wasn’t worth risking those things, was it? She didn’t know. Ironically, she wished she could talk it out with Blake. He always seemed to know what to do, always had the answers.
No, she needed to stand on her own. She couldn’t protect him from his painful past. She couldn’t protect him from an uphill future. But she could do this, now.
It was her own fault. That thought remained forefront in her mind, from the moment she’d realized Melinda knew the truth—no, before that. When Melinda had approached him and he hadn’t been free to accept. He’d already been embroiled with Erin. What a nasty word, embroiled. Like a torrid affair, but that was what they had. A secret, forbidden relationship. And now? They had nothing.
She drove home on autopilot where she found her roommate still awake watching House reruns. Courtney held her while she cried and told her in halting, broken breaths what had happened.
Losing Blake… God, he was so much to her. Everything to her. But if he were found out now, shunned and ridiculed after so recently venturing out, he might never try again. He might never recover. And her own career, professional and otherwise, hung in the balance.
“Did I do the right thing?” Erin whispered.
Courtney’s eyes were filled with sympathy. “Of course you did. There’s a reason they don’t allow those relationships. They just…don’t work out.”
Ah, the voice of rationality. Not entirely welcome at a time like this. She could hear Blake’s rational voice too. His story about the Roman advisor who gave two hollow warnings to the Carthaginians before letting his true intentions show. He had never meant to leave them in peace. It had always, always been war.
Grimly, she acknowledged that the Romans had been so blithely aggressive because they could be. They held all the power, and so did Melinda. She made her fake ploy of being concerned about Erin and then called her a prostitute. And Erin had sat there and taken it. That was what she hated most of all. If she was going to go down, at least she could have put up a fight.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Blake sat in the dark, one knee crossed over the other. He rubbed the torn scrap of notebook paper between his finger and thumb. He didn’t need to see to know what it said. Can’t do this anymore. Too risky.
I’m sorry.
At first he’d only stared at the scribbled words in familiar handwriting. He couldn’t process it. He knew her, damn it. This wasn’t her. So what the fuck was it? He was going to find out.
The soft scraping sound of metal against metal came from the door as a key was turned. A sliver of moonlight beamed onto the knotted oak floor then disappeared again. Heels clicked, bags were shuffled. A lamp was turned on with a resounding click, revealing Blake’s location in the armchair.
Melinda shrieked. “Oh, Blake. Jesus Christ. What are you doing?”
He stood, slipping the note into his pocket. “I figured if my key still worked then yours would too. I suppose that’s the price we pay for not ending things properly the first time around.”
Her eyes narrowed at his clipped tone. Then a bright smile bloomed on her face. “Here to make amends? Don’t worry that I’ll make you beg, darling. I’m jus
t happy to see you.”
“Cut the bullshit. We both know why I’m here. After today.”
The façade fell. She rolled her eyes. “What story did she tell you?”
“She didn’t tell me anything about you, but you just confirmed it for me. What did you tell her? Did you threaten to vote down her thesis?”
