Maybe Never (Maybe #2) (16 page)

“Oh, Killian”—she places her hand on my cheek—“don’t deny yourself if she will make you happy.”
 

“You don’t understand, Mother. I can’t. I have to choose. Either I stay with the FBI, or I pursue her and give up everything I’ve worked for at the FBI. I can’t do both.”
 

“Then, I guess you need to figure out what or whom you can’t live without. You need to figure out if working for the FBI really makes you happy or if you are just doing it out of obligation. You need to figure out if you really love this girl.”
 

“She hates me though. Her family is ruined because of me.”
 

“She might hate you for that, but hate doesn’t stop a woman from loving.” My mother glances at her watch. “I should get back before we get any critical patients, and I leave Alisha to handle them.”
 

“I doubt that will happen in the middle of nowhere Kansas.”
 

She smiles. “Glad your love for this town hasn’t changed. I guess distance doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder.”
 

“I guess not, but I don’t know when I’ll see you again. I tried talking to Dad. I don’t think he will ever forgive me, and I can’t stay here any longer when I’m not even welcome in my parents’ house.”
 

“Your father is still mourning. He’s not ready to forgive himself, let alone you, yet. Give him time.”
 

“I did give him time. I gave him five years.”
 

She smiles weakly. “Where will you go?”

“I still have most of my month left. I’ll go somewhere warm to sort things out. Then, I’ll be given a new undercover assignment. I’ll try to stay in contact better than last time, but it will just depend on the assignment and how long it lasts.”
 

She nods and hugs me again. “Just make sure you invite me to your wedding, if that is the future you decide.”
 

I laugh. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”
 

She releases me. “Maybe not, but I won’t think anything less of you if you choose this girl over the FBI.”
 

I force my lips into a tight smile. “I love you, Mom.”
 

“Love you, too, son.”
 

I watch her walk back into the hospital. She might not think anything less of me if I chose a girl over the FBI, but I would. I would think less of me.
 

“We will need to do the commercial soon, Ms. Felton, to ensure that we can get it going in full swing before Mr. Felton’s trial starts,” Catherine, our marketing director, says on the other end of the line.
 

“I have the perfect model to do the commercial. Leave it to me to schedule her. Schedule the shoot for tomorrow.”
 

“Will do.”
 

I hang up the phone and go to call Scarlett to ask her to do the commercial, but the stack of papers Killian gave me is drawing me toward them. Every second I’ve had them in my possession, I’ve been tempted to read them, but I’m too loyal to my family and my own feelings to give in. Instead, I brought them to my father’s office with me and placed them on the desk where they have been tempting me ever since.
 

I grab the papers and place them in front of me. I don’t want to read them. I don’t want to know who is lying—my father or Killian. I can’t stand the thought that either man is a liar. I’m not even sure if these papers will prove it either way. I just have to read them.
 

I flip the page and begin reading. That’s when I realize that every page has my signature, my actual signature that isn’t forged. I know because I was there. I signed them. I just didn’t know what I was signing. I was always told the papers had to do with my inheritance. But that’s not why I was signing them I realize now. My father had me sign them as a way to keep his criminal activities in the family. As a way of tying them to me because he wanted to pass the company off to my future husband, to Killian, and he wanted insurance that we wouldn’t go to the police ourselves. That we would continue the criminal activities.
 

The papers are all lies my father and grandfather told the IRS, investors, and employees. Money transfers that don’t show where they got the money and money that just suddenly disappeared. Every single page is a lie. A lie they told to make more money.
 

I drop the papers when I realize the truth and watch them scatter on the floor. Killian is right. My father and grandfather are criminals.
 

I expect tears to fall, except all my tears are gone from crying all night because I had to say good-bye to Killian. I expect that he is halfway to Kansas by now. Instead of sadness though, I feel anger. I’m angry at my family for what they have put me through, but most of all, I’m angry at my father because I thought he loved me above all else.
 

I shake my head. He wasn’t a father. Not a real father. Real fathers don’t lie to their daughters and then drag them into their criminal activities.
 

I swipe all the frames of the family off my father’s desk and watch them fall to the floor, but it’s not enough to satisfy my anger. I go to the wall and pull every picture and magazine photo of me off the wall and throw them to the floor.
 

And then the tears fall, as if my anger found a way to turn them on, like a faucet. I fall onto the couch, a couch I used to love just like my father, and I cry.
 

Killian was right, and it ruined my life. No, that’s not fair. Killian didn’t ruin my life. He just exposed it, and now, I don’t think I can look at him the same way again. It doesn’t really change the fact that he is an FBI agent who investigated my family.
 

I shake my head. I don’t have a family anymore. They are all dead to me now that I know the truth.
 

I want Killian. I just don’t know if he still wants me. I don’t know if he will take me back after I didn’t trust him and then called him a liar. I don’t know if I can mend that, especially when I have no way to get in contact with him while he’s away for a month. And I’m still the daughter of a criminal. He wouldn’t risk his job for me. And even if his job is no longer at risk, he wouldn’t want to date someone who could easily follow in her father’s footsteps.
 

I glance around the room that is now covered in papers and broken glass. The room used to hold so many good memories of me and my father, but now, it holds nothing but my broken despair. I can’t stay in here.
 

I walk out of the office and glance down the hallway to the office doors of the other executives. Tony’s office is next to this one. And then down a couple is what used to be Killian’s office. I don’t want to be reminded of him either. The rest of the offices in this hallway are taken, as far as I know.
 

I turn the other way and walk down the hallway. I glance in door after door, trying to find an empty office. I walk to the end of the hallway before I find one that’s empty.
 

I push the door open and step inside. The office is small and feels more like a closet than an office. A desk is pushed up against the one small window with a small stationary chair pushed under the desk. There isn’t room for anything more than just the desk in this office.
 

I smile. This office will do perfectly. There is no room for pictures or decorations that would remind me of my family. There is no room for lies or anger. There is just enough room in here for me.
 

I walk back to my father’s office. I grab the laptop and leave all the rest. I switch the light off, and I walk out the door and lock it behind me. I don’t plan on going back in there again.
 

I walk back to the office I’ve claimed and place the laptop on the desk. I take a seat at the desk and look out the window to the Las Vegas strip below. I feel calmer now that I’m in my own office. Even if it is smaller than my father’s, it’s my office, and I can run the company my way—that is, if I don’t sell my shares and just decide to leave this godforsaken city. I’m not sure I want anything to do with my family anymore. And I don’t give a shit what happens to this company, other than I don’t want all the people working for us to suffer because of what my father and grandfather did.
 

So, until I decide what is best for them, I guess I’ll keep running the company from here.
 

I take a deep breath, and then I take my cell phone out of my pocket and dial the number for Scarlett.
 

“Hey, Kins,” she answers on the second ring.
 

“Hey. I need a favor.”
 

“Anything.”

“I was hoping you would say that. I need you to do a commercial for the Felton Corporation tomorrow.”
 

“Done,” Scarlett says brightly.
 

“Awesome. Be here at six in the morning to get in hair and makeup.”
 

Scarlett moans when I tell her the time. She’s not a morning person. “Fine. But you owe me one.”
 

I smile. “Deal.”
 

When I hang up, my smile is gone. I have to spend the rest of my day in meetings before I resign to spending my night alone in one of the hotel rooms upstairs because there is no way I’m going to go home and face my grandfather. I don’t know if I can ever look at him again.
 

As far as I’m concerned, I’m a woman without a family. Without a boyfriend. And without a future.
 

“Another drink?” a waiter says.
 

I lift my ball cap up to see the waiter standing at the edge of my beach recliner. The sun streams down on my face, immediately making it become drenched in sweat that not even the cool ocean breeze will be able to cool. Only the taste of another fruity frozen drink will be able to cool me off.
 

“
Sí
, another piña colada,” I say even though I would much prefer a dark whiskey or scotch. But neither of those would stand a chance at helping me cool off, not as long as I sit on the beach with the sun beating down on me.

“
Sí, señor
,” the waiter says before scurrying off toward the resort.
 

He’ll be back in several minutes with my drink along with ones for everyone else who is scattered on the beach.
 

I wipe my brow, trying to get the sweat off of it. I can’t wait for him to come back. Needing to cool off, I get up from my chair where I’ve been sitting all morning. It is now getting into the late morning sun, and the heat is almost unbearable. The women who were just chatting incessantly suddenly stop when they see me walking down the beach.

The blonde woman at the end blinks at me. I would usually be all over someone like her but not now. Now, I want nothing more than to spend my vacation with Kinsley in Las Vegas, not alone on a beach in Mexico. But I don’t have a choice. Kinsley hates me for ruining her life, and I can’t be with her and keep my job.

I run down the few feet to the ocean until I feel the cool water crashing against my legs. I slow down as I walk further into the ocean until the water reaches my shoulders. Then, I go underwater, and a wave crashes over my head, immediately clearing my head of the blonde with the long legs and replacing it with images of Kinsley.
 

I picture her here, on the beach with me, wearing a bikini like she wore in the photo shoot. Her long blonde hair blowing in the breeze. Lying on a lounger with me.
 

I shake my head. I can’t go there. I can’t be with her, but I won’t be able to shake her image from my head, not even if I did something stupid, like take the blonde from the beach upstairs.
 

I’m fucked.
 

I see the waiter making his way back through the other beachgoers, heading toward my recliner, so I make my way out of the ocean and back to my lounger. This time, when the woman bats her eyes at me, I look away, trying to turn them away from me instead of drawing them in.
 

I take my towel and dry off my skin.
 

“Piña colada,
señor
,” the waiter says, handing me my drink.
 

“
Gracias
.”
 

I lie back on the recliner, planning on spending the rest of my day repeating the process of soaking up sun, drinking fruity beach drinks, and dipping into the ocean when I get too hot. All the while, I try to push Kinsley out of my head.
 

I sip the drink and immediately feel the cool liquid cool my body. I try to relax and not think about anything. About work or my family or Kinsley. I try to just think about the sun and the ocean and the drink.
 

I close my eyes and try to focus my breathing on the same speed as the ocean waves until I feel calm and relaxed. This is the main reason I came down to Mexico, but it’s not the only reason. I don’t have to worry about that reason though until later this week. Today is all about relaxing.
 

“
Señor
!” the waiter says just as I begin to relax.
 

I open my eyes in frustration. “
Sí
?”
 

“
Teléfono, señor
.”
 

I sigh and grab my towel. I follow the waiter into the lobby. This call can’t be good. I shouldn’t be getting a call when nobody knows where I am.

“Señor Byrne,” the waiter says to the man in the lobby.
 

The man nods at me, grabs the phone, and hands it to me without another word.
 

“Hello?” I say into the phone as I glance around the crowded lobby that gives me no privacy.
 

“Killian, you need to get a flight back right away,” Agent Bisson says.