🥊 Hate or Fate 💕 {Enemies to Lovers}

.24.

"What?" Gray turned to study me.

We were so close I could see the nasty bruise emerging over his eye socket. He was going to be sore as hell for the meeting he had at our agency the next day.

"You heard me," I replied. "How. Many. Girls?"

"Are you sure I'm the one you should be asking?" Gray's lips puckered into a miserable frown.

"Elijah won't fess up, and I need to know."

"No, you want to know," Gray said. "It's not the same thing."

"Fine, I want to know how many girls," I conceded in a bratty tone.

This was starting to sound more like the old Isla and Gray. Bumping heads for no good goddamn reason. He watched the darkness, staring like it was a Magic Eight Ball about to deliver the answer from its murky depths.

"No, you don't," he whispered.

My innards lurched and I pulled my sleeves over my thumbs to ball my hands into cotton-covered fists at my side.

"So, you're going to protect him, again?" My voice trembled with the frustration churning my tummy acids. I dashed a tear before he could see. "He just punched you in the face for telling me the truth. You don't owe him anything, you know."

"Yes, I do," Gray's eyes creased, pinching back whatever he was hiding.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"What do you owe Elijah?" I pushed, turning to glare at him.

His wretched expression felt like a kick to the ribs and my expression relaxed.

"It's complicated," he whispered.

Whatever he was holding back it was worse than his guilt, worse than Elijah's cheating, and possibly, worse than anything I could dream up. The emotion was so profound I felt my anger melting down my spine, replaced by throbbing compassion.

I was putting him in a very tough spot.

"Why are you protecting him?" I swallowed around the lump in my throat. "Aren't there enough lies already?"

Gray flinched at me calling out his deceit (again). It was obvious he'd been psychologically caning himself to a bloody pulp over everything.

"It has nothing to do with Elijah's cheating," he murmured, toying with a thick skull ring on his left middle finger. "You've got to believe me, more people than Elijah or you or me could get very hurt if I told you."

"How am I supposed to believe anything you say?" The honesty of my question was a slap in the face, but Gray didn't look surprised, just hurt.

"You can't," he nodded, his features hardening.

"Wow," I exhaled and pushed myself up to my elbows to study him. "I was expecting more of a fight."

"I'm tired of fighting," Gray replied, shaking his head as if he found the idea repellent. "I don't want to fight with you anymore."

"Then don't," I nudged him playfully with my arm.

His mouth split into a halfhearted smile that brightened his sensitive eyes until he was almost chuckling.

"Good advice," he nodded. "Especially since we start working together tomorrow."

The thought sent a zing of electricity into my thighs to make my cheeks burn.

"So, how many women?"

"Good lord, Isla!" Gray chuckled, stretching his manly neck to peer at the stars overhead. "Really?"