“Yes. But—”
She held up a single manicured finger. “No buts, special agent. We’re here, and we’re cooperating. We have the same goals. No one at this table wants anything illegal occurring on my land or even in this county.”
He nodded.
“So let’s get on with it. I’d like to know what, exactly, you need from us, in detail. In the spirit of partnership, let’s just cut to the chase.”
Portnoy blinked several times, looking chastened. I had to bite my bottom lip to keep from grinning.
God, Chloe was awesome. She knew every detail, could recall specific phrases from the police reports, and was throwing numbers out confidently. She hadn’t just done her homework. She’d mentally digested the last ten years of this company’s business—both legal and illegal—and had made herself an expert.
The way she went back and forth with Portnoy sent a thrill through me. She was an active listener, taking notes, asking questions, and circling back to previous topics when relevant.
I was both annoyed and really impressed.
I’d spent my life working hard for this company, learning and absorbing it all I could, just to be held back by my father.
And that had left scars.
Ones I didn’t even realize I had until Chloe and I had taken the ATVs out and had started tossing ideas around. She listened to me in a way my father never had, and she took my decades of experience seriously.
So as much as I wanted to resent her, as angry as I wanted to be that she was here doing the job I had assumed was my birthright, I didn’t, and I couldn’t be. In fact, I was a little grateful it was her in the hot seat and not me. She was better suited to it, and she was certainly smarter than I was.
I’d spent so much time being angry about losing the company. But what if this was the best possible outcome? Not just for the business, but for me?
Perhaps the freedom I’d gained from the sale was a gift and not the punishment I’d believed it to be. And if that was the case, then what the hell was I going to do with this newfound freedom?
Chapter 9Gus
From my living room, I surveyed the woods, taking in the view of my land with fresh eyes. My house wasn’t big, but it was beautiful. I’d built it myself, using timber I’d harvested from the acreage I’d bought when I was twenty-six.
Back then, I’d been so excited to be a landowner, and it had felt so incredible to own this little slice of the wilderness.
The house had taken years. First, I’d lived in a trailer on the property, thinking it’d take a year to build the house. But boy, was I wrong.
Building a house was like building just about anything of importance in this life—it took way longer than anticipated. It tested a person and challenged them to grow in ways they never could have imagined.
It took seven years, but eventually, I moved into my dream house. Every detail was precisely the way I’d designed it.
I didn’t want a log cabin. It was too on the nose for a professional lumberjack. Instead, I went timber style—post and beam construction, with stone accents. I made sure every piece of granite was mined here in Maine too. The first floor was anchored by a large floor-to-ceiling fireplace, and I’d spent a small fortune on glass. There were windows everywhere—what good was it having thirty acres of forest if I couldn’t see the trees?
For a time, I thought I’d raise a family here. Build a treehouse out back for the kids and host Sunday cookouts and family flag football games.
But the opportunity never arose. Or, more accurately, I never took any of the opportunities that presented themselves. I’d always told myself it was because I was so devoted to my work and the company. However, it was becoming clearer by the day that my aversion to finding a woman I could settle down with had more to do with my ex-wife than I was willing to admit.
And she was coming here. To my house.
What would she see?
A recluse who’d built a fortress in the woods? A lonely man clinging to an identity that no longer fit him?
I wanted Chloe to like my house. It was an extension of who I was. Part of me wanted to show her that I’d been just fine. That I’d recovered from losing her and that I’d done well. And at the moment, I didn’t have much to show for myself except my house.
The FBI meeting had gone well today, and truth be told, we’d made a good team. Afterward, the dinner invitation came out of my mouth before I could think better of it, and I’d gotten the shock of my life when she’d accepted.
I hadn’t wanted to spend extra hours reviewing every single detail with the legal team, but I’d done it for the company, and, if I was being honest, for her.
She’d bailed us out. She’d taken it all on. And she didn’t deserve to be dragged down by my dad. The shit with him was over. Done with. Of course, there would always be crime. This was rural Maine, and shit went down all the time, but this company had new leadership and a fresh start. Chloe deserved that.
She arrived exactly on time, holding two bottles of wine.
“Double fisting?” I asked as she climbed the porch steps.
She shrugged. “I figured I’d need a whole bottle to myself to survive dinner with my ex-husband. Don’t worry, Karl will come pick me up. I won’t drive like this.”
I nodded, already feeling out of sorts. This was a terrible idea. Why had I even suggested it? I’d given into a moment of weakness, and now I’d be paying for it all night.
Terrible idea or not, Chloe looked beautiful. She was wearing a slouchy black dress and simple sandals, with her hair swept into a ponytail. The look so different from what I was used to seeing in the office. Almost as if she’d worked hard to make it look like she hadn’t made any effort.
My brain had been flooded with nothing but thoughts of her since our day together in the woods. The forest had the magical ability to cut through bullshit and pretense.
I’d seen the real Chloe then. The smart, determined, fierce woman I’d fallen in love with so long ago.
My Dragonfly. She was still in there, beneath the designer clothes and the closed-off ice queen facade.
And it was fucking with me. Because I didn’t like her anymore. I resented her.
