Page 42 of Tempting Devil
I didn’t think I’d ever tell anyone, including Henry.
But now it was out there.The real reason I couldn’t stomach the idea of revealing myself to Imogene. It wasn’t because I was worried she’d tell Liam or go to the police.
It was because I didn’t want to do anything that would taint her memories of Samuel. Telling her the truth would do exactly that.
“You didn’t hear how she talked about Samuel at the golf tournament.” I rubbed my hand over my face, slinking into the leather chair. “She still loves him.”
“You,” Henry responded firmly. “She still. Loves. You. Not this made up persona of Gideon Saint. But you. Samuel Tate. That’s who you really are.”
“No, Henry. I’m not. I may have the same DNA. But I haven’t been Samuel Tate since that bastard pointed a gun at me and fired. I’d rather?—”
A choked sob reverberated from the hallway, cutting me off. It was muted, but in my mind it was as jarring as hearing a gunshot on a peaceful day, shattering everything in sight.
I darted my eyes toward the door, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of my stomach about what caused that noise.
Who caused that noise.
Slowly standing, I strode the few feet toward the door, my hand hovering over the knob with hesitation and dread.
Drawing in a shaky breath, I finally opened the door, not surprised to find Imogene mere feet away.
I thought the worst thing I’d ever seen was the look on her face when she learned Samuel’s fingerprints had been found on a glass at Alton’s cabin.
That was nothing compared to this.
The pain. The heartache. The betrayal.
It broke me.
There was no doubt she’d overheard every syllable I just said.
And every syllable Henry had said, too.
I instinctively stepped toward her, unsure what else to do. What to say to make it hurt any less.
“Don’t touch me,” she demanded, recoiling from me as if I were the devil incarnate.
In a way, I was.
At least I was her devil.
“Who…” Her voice caught in her throat as she struggled to get the words out. “Who are you?”
“You’ve known all along, Imogene,” I responded calmer than I thought possible with all the emotions warring inside me. Anger. Frustration. Despair. They were all there, fighting for dominance.
“Your name,” she ordered firmly, her voice no longer trembling. “Tell. Me. Your. Name.”
“My legal name is Gideon Saint.”
“Your birth name. What was your name when you were born?”
I squeezed my eyes shut as I pushed out a resigned breath. I hated everything about this. But Henry warned me this was a strong possibility. Or, more accurately, an inevitability. I just didn’t think it would happen today. Thought I’d have a little more time. Thought I could have one more night with her.
I truly was a selfish bastard.
Finally, I shifted my gaze back toward hers. “Samuel Tate.”
The instant my given name left my mouth, every muscle in her body gave out and she collapsed against the wall.