I ignored him and walked off with Rhys’s laughter at my back and irritation flickering through my veins.
I had said those things he’d quoted. Now I was one of those insufferable idiots, pining after the only woman who’d ever broken my heart.
Karma was an even bigger bitch than fate.
I entered the kitchen and poured myself another drink. It was only my second of the night. I’d set the trap for the traitor earlier, but I needed to keep my head clear just in case.
Four suspects. Four different pieces of information I’d casually slipped into a conversation about how I’d developed a new device that made Scylla look like child’s play.
The traitor wouldn’t be able to resist leaking that information to Sentinel. Once they did, I only had to look at the details of what was leaked to pinpoint the rat.
It was a simple trap, but it worked every time. I’d just needed to get all the suspects in one room so I could have the conversations without raising suspicion. My men all knew I didn’t discuss these things over the phone.
And if the traitor was who I thought it was…
I drained my glass.
My life was going to shit, and alcohol was the only thing that made me feel better these days.
That and the letters.
My mind flashed to my desk drawer.
“Hey.” Rhys’s gruff voice dragged me back to the kitchen. “You good?”
“Never been better.” The acerbic bite of my words strained the air.
He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. His eyes moved from the tight set of my jaw to my empty glass and back again.
His earlier laughter faded, replaced with sympathy. “You’ve got it bad.”
I didn’t answer.
“How much did you fuck up?” His eyebrows rose when I remained silent. “That much, huh?”
“It’s complicated.”
“These things always are.” Rhys sighed. “Whatever you did, it’s probably not as bad as you think. Stella is one of the nicest people I know. She’ll forgive you. She just needs time.”
Perhaps. But privacy was one of the most important things to Stella, and I’d crossed so far over that line I couldn’t see it.
Her stalker had terrorized her for months, and the fact that I reminded her even a little of the bastard…
The alcohol churned in my stomach.
“Rhys Larsen giving relationship advice. Hell must’ve frozen over.” I brushed over his statement for a safer topic.
Rhys snorted. “It froze the day you uttered the word love in a non-demeaning way.” He straightened and clapped his hand on my back. “If Volkov can get his girl back after a year, there’s hope for you. Just don’t fuck it up again.”
I poured myself another drink after he left and drank it alone in the company kitchen.
My life really had gone to shit.