The Devil You Know (The Grumpy Devils, #3)

by Elizabeth O'Roark

If that’s true, then I should have been fired two years ago. I stare at my feet. “So…” “So I watched you in court,” he says, “and then I told the associate in question he’d be fired if he mentioned your name again, but I’d make it worth his while if he didn’t. You deserve to take those cases.”

“I didn’t mean it as an insult. You’re brilliant like he is, but you’re also more stubborn than is good for you, and you’re so busy looking for the worst in people that you don’t always see the best. Instead of thinking he tries to control you because he’s punitive, is it at least possible that he loves you also? Couldn’t it be both?”

“You don’t have to admit it,” he says. “But I will. I missed you.”

He pulls me closer and presses his lips to the top of my head. “You want to burn the whole world to ash, just to make sure every path she walks is cleared for her. I know the feeling.”

“I’m crazy about you, Gemma,” he whispers against the top of my head. “I don’t want to be, but I am.”

“My sweetest girl,” she says with a sigh. “You think you can see the future, but all you’re really doing is choosing it for yourself in advance. And I wish you’d stop choosing the things that can’t make you happy.” When we get off the phone, I lock the office door then sit with my face in my hands, trying not to cry. I love him. I love him so fucking much it terrifies me.

If only I could have kept hating him, because I’m never, ever going to recover from Ben Tate. I think I knew I wouldn’t, even that first day we met.

The sight of him breaks my heart all over again. I loved him so much. I still love him even now, despite what he did. But I’m not the same person I was before—he made sure of that.

I’m scared to believe him, but if this is all true…then everything he did, he did for me. I think of the night we spoke about my mom—him saying, “you want to burn the world to ash just to make sure her path is clear.” He was talking about me. And he’s been clearing my path every day since we met.

“I’m sorry, Gemma,” he says. He’s close enough now that if I reached out, I could touch him. “If I’d had a clue it was going to go down that way, I’d have refused Fields’ offer. You mean a thousand times more to me than any promotion, and you mean a thousand times more to me than staying at FMG. Whether I go to San Francisco or even remain at the firm is entirely your call. But please tell me you understand why I did it.”

He gives a quiet laugh. “Just imagine how many non-paying clients you could bring in if we set up our own shop. And yes, of course I’d leave. You only stayed because you had something to prove, and I only stayed because I was in love with this woman there who loathed me.” “You love me?” I ask. His thumb swipes a tear off my cheek. “This can’t be a surprise to you. I’ve been in love with you for two years straight. You were the only reason I interviewed there in the first place.”

“I love you,” I whisper. “And I wanted to make partner, but for the past two years, you were the reason I stayed there too.” He laughs as he presses his lips to mine. “I know,” he says quietly. “But I’m glad you finally figured it out.”

There are wide plank hardwood floors and white furniture, an exposed beam ceiling, a beaded chandelier. Toward the back of the house, in the kitchen, I see butcher block counters and an island painted navy blue.

“I know, right?” he asks. “But…imagine how much more of our money you could blow on shoes if you lived here instead of your apartment.” “Our money?” He rests his hands on my hips. “I have waited for you, Gemma Charles, for two years. Every day of two fucking years. You don’t really think I’m letting you go after all that?”

I smile. “Nothing is wrong with Graham. But can you imagine him with Keeley? Mr. Responsibility with Miss ‘Lucky Charms is a health food and retirement planning is for dorks’? His head would explode.”

“I didn’t always work in an office,” he says. I’m pretty sure he did always work in an office. I picture him being born in a tiny suit and tie, immediately demanding a higher quality formula than the one offered by the hospital.

I nod and press my face to his shirt. “This was both the nicest and the cruelest thing anyone’s done to me in a long time.”

“Amy was in on it, by the way,” he says. “From the coffee shop? I called her yesterday and asked her to be as nosy as possible.” “And Julie?” He shakes his head. “No. She’s just weird. But this whole trip has inspired me. I think I’ve got a movie we could pitch to Hallmark—”

I wrap my arms around his neck, my smile ridiculously wide. “I’m ready.” Because something real is no longer terrifying. And I can’t wait to say “yes” to Ben Tate.