“You wanted in my pants. At least this way, you’ve always got your face between my boobs.”
His laughter sounded nearly deafening inside her head, and she smiled.
There were worse spirits to have inhabiting her skull.
At least Rafe wasn’t totally dead.
And, at least, she’d finally found the will and reason to keep living.
A few days later, Matthias broached the subject. He wasn’t an idiot, either guessed or researched what the pendant was but didn’t mention it. “Do you have any thoughts as to what you’d like to do with his ashes?” he asked.
Taz fixed him with her eyes, not to control but to convey the force of her message. “They are staying right where they are. He didn’t leave any instructions.”
Matthias eventually nodded. “Okay.”
She softened her gaze. “You don’t mind?”
He shook his head. “If it’s what you want, it’s what we’ll do.”
She felt bad about her dictatorial style, but she was still adjusting to the news, still coping. Technically she could ask Rafe what he wanted, but she wasn’t ready to turn him loose yet and he wasn’t volunteering any ideas.
Not to mention she couldn’t admit any of that to Matthias.
His assistant looked a little green. “Do you need me right now, sir?”
Gerard smiled. “Don’t have the stomach for it, do you?”
He shook his head. “Honestly? Not really. I’m sorry.”
Gerard nodded. “At least you’re honest. I can appreciate that. I’d rather you have the balls to be honest to my face than act like a fucking weasel. That’s one of the reasons I trust you. I know you’re not afraid to tell me the truth. Go on. Get out of here.”
The assistant hurried out the door while Gerard looked at the head on his desk. Yet another one who’d failed him. He made examples, he didn’t screw around with pep talks. Fear was a great motivator in his line of work, and the only way to keep some of these people in line. Besides, it showed them they were working for what would eventually be the winning team.
And what price would be paid by the losers.
As Taz spent more time talking with Rafe, she pulled farther away from Matthias. It was one of those paradoxes that the longer she let the situation continue the stronger she felt, but the harder it was to confess. How did you explain something like this?
She could only imagine how that conversation would start. Hey, Matthias, wait’ll you hear this! This is a hoot. I know you thought Rafe was dead, but he’s not, he’s stuck inside my brain!
Yeah, right.
Despite her promises to spend some time at home after their return from London, Taz escaped to the office every chance she got. Her drive was uninterrupted time she could spend with Rafe without fear of discovery. There was also the matter of falling into Rafe’s mental arms every chance she got, fueling her guilt and descent into an inescapable cycle. She felt bad, she went to talk to Rafe, which invariably led to other things. Leaving her feeling guilty and unable to get closer to Matthias, leading her to go talk to Rafe…
Did she really want to get free?
This went on for nearly two weeks after their return from London. One afternoon at work, Taz stared at her computer without seeing the words on the screen. Eventually she gave up trying. She knew Matthias was in his office, and she wanted to get out of there without him noticing, if possible.
She packed her things.
“When’s my funeral?” Rafe asked. He’d been quiet most of the day.
“I don’t know. I haven’t planned it yet.” She didn’t want to do it, but didn’t want anyone else doing it, either.
It was hard to ignore him. “It needs to happen.”
“I know.”
“You always say that when you don’t want to deal.”
“I don’t want to do it right now, okay?”
“It has to be done. Keep my ashes if you want, but have a service. People need closure.”
Taz fought her tears. Rafe went quiet for a moment. She finished gathering her things and cautiously glanced down the hall to Matthias’ closed door. Lamplight peeked out from around the closed blinds. He would, inevitably, hear the elevator if she called it. As soon as it opened, he would emerge from his office, meaning a long, torturous ride alone with him down to the parking garage.
But the stairwell door was quiet.
Taz carefully opened the door and walked down one flight, where she caught the elevator. She didn’t bother calling the valet booth for her car in case they’d notify Matthias. She started the GT and backed out, making the turn to the exit. As she did she glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Matthias emerge from the elevator, looking around.
She breathed a sigh of relief and sped through the post–rush hour traffic to the Crosstown, wanting to get to I-75.
“Why are you running from him, Taz?”
“Because what the hell am I supposed to say? ‘Hey honey, I know you thought Rafe was dead, but I make love to him in my head. How’s that for shits and giggles?’”
Rafael was quiet for several minutes. “Taz, let me plan the funeral.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let me do it. It’s perfect. How many people get to posthumously plan their own funeral?”
“And how are you supposed to do that?”
“Just let me do it.”
She understood what he was asking. Let him take control.
It was very tempting to sit back and let him do that. She wouldn’t have to think, plan.
Grieve.
“Okay.”
It was an odd duality. Rafe let her work, she let him plan. They alternated control, and she brought his laptop to the office so he could access his phone and e-mail lists. Rafael was in control one afternoon after lunch when Matthias appeared in her office doorway. She didn’t have time to step forward and take control without Matthias noticing, and hoped Rafe’s mental barrier was enough to keep Matthias out.
“How are you?” Matthias asked.
Rafe nodded. “I’m good. I’ll let you know when the plans are ready. We’ll do it weekend after next, Saturday. I’ve got the place lined up.”
“Easy, Rafe. You’re talking too fast. I don’t talk that fast.”
Rafael swallowed. Now he knew how Taz felt. “I think he’d like this.”
Matthias sat in one of the chairs in front of her desk and Taz considered putting up an extra barrier until she realized Matthias wasn’t probing him—her.
Them.
“Are you all right, Taz?”
Rafael nodded. “Peachy.”
“Too much snark, Rafe.”
“I’m fine,” he quickly added. He still wasn’t used to a woman’s voice coming out of his mouth. Her mouth. In his mind, his voice still sounded like him.
“Taz,” Matthias said, “I’m worried about you.”
Rafael refused to meet Matthias’ gaze, afraid his cousin would see the truth. If Taz wanted this secret kept, he would help her. “I’m fine. Just dealing.”
“I’m worried about us.”
Rafael closed his eyes and resisted the urge to pull back and let Taz step forward. Matthias was too close and too powerful. There was no way he couldn’t notice the shift. “There’s nothing to worry about, Matts–thias.” Dammit! That slipped. Taz never called him anything but Matthias. Or big guy.
Matthias’ eyes narrowed for a moment. “Taz, I’m concerned. I’ll be honest, I don’t think this is healthy for you to have this obsession.”