Carter pressed his lips to her scalp. “Where did you go tonight?”

He didn’t want to upset her, but he was aching to find out what had led her to his doorstep after she’d screamed such hatred. What had triggered the realization that he had saved her rather than holding her back from helping her father?

“I wandered for a long time.” Her fingers gripped Carter’s side. “I didn’t know what to do. I was just— I just hurt. Everywhere.”

Carter held her closer.

“I eventually got home.” She paused. “I think I got a cab.” Her lips moved against his skin. “I called my mother.”

Carter’s hand halted its movement against her shoulder blade. “What?”

Kat scoffed. “I know. I must be fucking stupid to call her, huh?”

“Peach—”

“As soon as she heard it was me,” she interrupted fiercely, “she started telling me how disappointed she was about what happened at my grandmother’s. She said I was ungrateful for the people around me, the people that cared about me. That she only wanted what was best for me and I was too self-involved and caught up with you to see it.”

He swallowed. “She knows about me?”

She lifted from his shoulder to look at him. She was so close Carter had to shift his head back into the pillow to see her better.

“She knows I care for you.” Her index finger moved along his bottom lip. “She knows that we kissed.”

A cold shiver darted down Carter’s spine as the last seven days began to fall into place. “That’s why you left your family and friends. That’s why you came back from Chicago.” He smiled wryly. “They know.”

Kat shook her head. “They think they know what’s going on, but they don’t. They have no fucking idea.” The anger was clear in her voice. “Carter, you have to understand, my own mother thinks my choices are wrong and that I’m still a kid who knows nothing. She doesn’t know how much I love my job, how much I love what I do every day, how much I love—” Her eyes burned with fury. “You’re the only person who treats me like I’m me, who makes me feel like what I’m doing is right and meaningful. There’s no bullshit, no hiding with you.”

Her lips twitched with the beginnings of a smile. “And I began to see how hard it must’ve been for you to tell me about who you are.” Her palm slid down his jaw. “Carter, I know the only reason you didn’t tell me was because you were scared. You’re the only person on this planet who knows what I went through. And do you want to know something really ironic?” Her eyes blazed. “My family, my friends, the cops, my fucking therapist, they all said you weren’t real, that you were a figment of my imagination, a result of post-traumatic stress.” Kat nuzzled his cheek. “But you’re the most real thing in my life.”

Carter couldn’t answer. He was speechless and crazy for her touch. “Kat” was all he could utter before their mouths met. Three little words whispered relentlessly through Carter’s psyche, bubbling furiously, whipping away his breath. Swallowing them and the fear that forever accompanied them back down, Carter rolled Kat onto her back and settled at her side, lifting one of her legs over his hip. Although she moaned, the movement was not sexual in its intent. He wanted her again, but he wanted to reassure her more that he was real and that he would always be that way with her.

“Stay with me tonight.” He pushed her hair back, needing to see her whole face. “Please, Kat, just … just for tonight.” He searched for an answer in the depths of her eyes. “But don’t stay because you’re upset. Stay with me because you want to.”

The pleading words came from nowhere. All Carter knew was he meant them, and he needed her to say yes.

The smile that appeared on her face could have lit up Broadway. “I’m not going anywhere.”

* * *

The lobby of WCS Communications was just how Carter remembered it: pretentious, repugnant, and reeking of money. Even the damn furniture looked uncomfortable, as if the shit had been stolen from a torture chamber. Carter scoffed at the irony of that particular thought. The fact that he was in the building at all was torturous in itself. Fuck’s sake, he was ready to crawl out of his skin.

With a deep breath, he walked toward the raven-haired woman at the reception desk, hating the loud sound of his booted steps on the shiny wood floor, and waited patiently for her to finish her call.

“I have a two o’clock with Austin,” he grumbled when she did, rubbing his hand across his jaw.

“Mr. Ford.”

Carter blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Mr. Ford,” she repeated. “You have a two o’clock with Mr. Ford. Not Austin.” She smiled contemptuously.

“Whatever,” he snapped. “Just do your job and tell the prick that Carter’s here, will you?” The sound of her mouth dropping open bounded around the large room. “Thanks, Buttercup.”

He turned toward the heinous cream sofa situated ten feet from the desk and slammed down onto it. He adjusted himself to try to get comfortable, but the postage-stamp-sized cushions were about as cozy as having glass up his ass. The whole place appeared constructed just to make its occupants feel uneasy, and it was working. No wonder the receptionist was so fucking uptight.

“Wes.”

The hair on Carter’s neck stood on end and his lip lifted into an animalistic snarl at the sound of his cousin’s voice. Fucker knew Carter hated his given name, but he still insisted on using it frequently whenever they were in each other’s company.

“We’re ready for you,” Austin said, his poker face in full play.

Carter followed Austin into his office and immediately tried not to vomit at the elaborate artwork on the walls, the ostentatious desk, and the ridiculously incredible view over the rest of New York’s Financial District.

Fucker was totally compensating for something.

There were three other men standing in the room: Adam, who nodded cordially at Carter when he entered, and two others he’d never met before.

“Take a seat,” Austin said, gesturing to the high-backed leather seat situated by the humongous desk.

Carter sat down ungracefully, placing his ankle onto his knee. He blew out an impatient breath and tapped his fingertips against his thighs.

“So,” he drawled, glancing around the room. “Who are you?” He pointed to the suits standing by the window.

“This is Steve Fields, WCS’s lead attorney, and David Fall,” Austin answered. “He’s head of accounting and finance.”

“’Sup, Dave?” Carter smiled when he got no response. “I’m Carter.” He pointed to himself before whispering loudly, “Your boss.”

Austin coughed. “Well, actually, Wes—”

“Save the ‘Wes’ shit, Austin,” Carter barked, losing his patience. “Just explain to me why the hell I’m here so I can leave as soon as humanly possible. There’s only so much pretense and dick-sucking I can handle.”

Anger flared in Austin’s eyes. “Fine,” he replied. “You’re here so we can discuss the immediate dilution of your shares in WCS Communications.”

“Is that right?” Carter asked with a backward tilt of his head. Austin raised his eyebrows in reply and walked around his desk to take his leather-and-wood throne. “And just how do you think that shit’s gonna fly, Austin?” Carter continued. “The shares are in my name. They were given to me by our grandmother. The contract that was drawn up is legally binding on a scale that even your pathetic excuse for a law team can’t change it.” He waved his hand indifferently toward the lawyers. “You can’t dilute the shares because of the provisions on them. Granddaddy tried for years. It ain’t gonna happen.”

Austin looked at Steve and David. The two men sat down at Carter’s right. Adam remained standing to his left. Carter was being cornered. They were using blatant intimidation tactics.

“That’s why you’re here.” Austin smiled tightly. “So we can discuss the provisions in detail.”

Carter smirked. “You mean you wanna discuss how much it’s gonna cost you assholes to get rid of me, right? Can’t have an ex-con owning a billion-dollar company, now, can we? What would the papers say?”