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Separation Games (The Games Duet #2)
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The stunning conclusion to the New York Times Bestseller.
These are the unbreakable rules in the game.
The heart is impulsive.
Because the heart may have decided to get Adam back, but when the endgame comes, the heart’s going to be the first thing to break.
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Today is the first day of the rest of my life, and I have no idea how to live it.
Today is the day I make a plan, implement it, and see it through to the end.
Today is the day I prepare to win.
I will take no prisoners but myself. I’ll defeat no enemy but my fear.
This is worth it. He is worth it.
Hold your breath.
Hold it for 1, 209, 600 seconds.
Because he will be yours.
What can you learn about a man from his office?
I hadn’t even had the sense to ask that question when I met Adam, and I should have. His R+D office was stark and clean. It had no history. It gave away nothing. You didn’t sense a thing about its owner but the level of his taste.
That was simply the way he ran his business. But standing in his office, with the afternoon sun bending through the glass tabletops, I knew he had run his personal life the same way.
I’d walked past Eva on the way in. She’d warn him I was here. I was ready for that.
The office building across 53rd Street seemed close enough to touch, and the street below seemed far enough away to kill on impact.
My phone said he was a block away. He hadn’t shut off the phone tracker after Montauk, and neither had I after he’d found me at the Cellar. Despite everything, we tracked each other. Proof that no matter what the level of our hearts’ betrayal, our souls knew where we belonged.
Two days, and I didn’t know how I was going to get him back. I’d managed, somehow, to get through the trip home from Montauk. I’d managed to let myself into the loft, walk past my four bags just inside the door, put my keys on the counter. I’d managed to move a chair to the window and sit there looking at the water towers, rooftop gardens, and fire escapes.
Staring was not a plan. It wasn’t how a woman in charge ran her life. It wasn’t how a person finished a thing. But that was what I had done, and I forgave myself for it. I’d left my husband with a note on the counter. I’d spent months gathering the courage, composing the note, being sure in my head and heart that it was the right thing.
I didn’t have months to get him back.
He’d agreed to an easy divorce if I gave him thirty days. Sixteen were gone. It had taken me that long to love him again. The real me loved the real him. It had taken that long for him to fall out of love with me.
Fourteen more days, and I didn’t have a plan.
That morning, I’d found stockings and garter in the bottom of my drawer. The bra had a crystal heart between the breasts, and the panties had one to match. I tossed them onto the bed. I shaved myself smooth and put the lingerie on. I stood in front of the mirror and watched myself fall to my knees. I put my ass up, lower back down, forehead to the floor, knees apart. I stayed that way, thinking about nothing but his body until my thighs ached.
Holding that position with that thought cleared my mind enough to do something. Even if it was the wrong thing, it was something.
His phone stopped moving in front of the building. He’d taken a cab.
He had a small table by the couch. The top was made of cracked tempered glass. There used to be a picture of me on that table.
The dot on the map moved again. He’d arrived in the city at the crack of dawn, according to the tracking on his phone. I didn’t know what he’d done during the past two days in Montauk. I tried not to think my worst thoughts.
I’d considered positioning myself on my hands and knees when he arrived, sitting with my legs crossed, spread-eagled on the desk, standing like a lady, hiding in the closet. I figured it would come to me when I needed it.
My strategy was set. My tactics were planned. I left room for inspiration in the minutiae.
Even when I knew he was coming down the hall, I hadn’t decided.
I heard his voice outside the door. Eva’s reply. Business. Did she tell him I was here?
When the door swung open, I was standing by his desk, wringing my hands as if they were made of dough.
He wore a grey suit I hadn’t seen before. His shoulders seemed straighter than ever, and his green tie was knotted in perfect symmetry. He looked taller. He walked like royalty. As if he were unstoppable, as if breaking through obstacles was a waste of time. There were no obstacles. Not for him. Not for a Master.