“I’ve been watching you, trying to figure out what’s different. Something about the way you walk. A softness to you that wasn’t there before. But I’ve realized it’s worse than all that. I think it was there all along, but I didn’t see it. And I’ve been trying to reconcile just how I can live with that.”
I took a step back, needing out. Out of this conversation. Out of this room. “Thank you,” I started. “Thank you for saying so. But I should really—“
“This is what I always wanted, you know.”
At that, I stopped my retreat. “What you can’t have?”
His lips parted, breath drawn to speak, but whatever he was going to say died. “This wasn’t what I signed up for. She wasn’t what I expected. None of it was.” A pause. “I can’t help but feel like I’ve made a terrible mistake. We had a life together, a future, and I threw it away. I threw it away, and I can’t seem to remember why. But seeing you like this, with that … gardener?” He said the word like an insult. “Everything feels crystal clear for the first time in a long time. If I asked you to give me another chance, would you do it? If you were with me, would you be this … effortless? Undemanding? Would you give me what you’ve given him?”
What I’d given Kash he had earned simply by loving me. What I’d become was because of that love. And that could never be duplicated, least of all by the man standing before me.
Before I could tell him no in ten languages, slap him hard enough to leave a mark, knee him in the groin, or all of the above and in no particular order, a door at my back squeaked open and closed. Guests. Guests were coming, walking through the door, and here I had Brock groveling.
We stepped aside, and I glared at him, furious and sad and anxious to get away.
“We cannot discuss this here and now. I have work to do.”
“Later. Can we talk later?”
I paused, weighing my options. Saying no would delay me. Telling him all the ways he could go to hell wouldn’t do well for my future at Archer. Saying yes would be a lie.
“Text me tomorrow,” I dodged, turning to go.
“Maybe we can get coffee. Talk things over.”
I opened my mouth to let him know there was zero chance of that, but before I could speak, one of my interns approached with salvation on her wings.
And it was sweet enough, I could have given her a raise.
* * *
KASH
My hand slammed into the door, pushing it open hard enough to ping off the wall and rebound. I stopped it without looking, storming down the service hall.
I’d heard the whole thing, the acoustics in the atrium too good to have avoided it, which I desperately wished I had. When I’d come into the room looking for her, I’d seen her with him and paused. He was too close, too familiar with her as he waxed poetic about her beauty and grace like he hadn’t neglected her. As if he hadn’t betrayed her so cruelly. Unforgivably.
The only pleasure I took was that he was jealous, and spitefully, I believed he should be.
But what fueled my fury was her response. Or more accurately, her lack of response. She didn’t tell him all the ways she’d disavowed him. She didn’t tell him she’d chosen me, nor did she regale all the ways he had been wrong.
Instead, she’d agreed to speak to him again. And all the joy I’d felt on Brock’s jealousy shifted into a deep, unsettling rage at my own.
Maybe I’d been a rebound all along. Maybe I’d only convinced myself because she was so convincing.
I’d believed her, every word that she said. But I knew other truths to be certain, too. She hadn’t dealt with her breakup, the humiliation, the truth of how it hurt her. Instead, she’d packed it all up and put it away, pretending to forget. Pretending to move on. And along came Brock to crack that door open again. What if she decides she made a mistake? Would I be realized as replacement rather than a relationship? Would those feelings we’d both believed were honest be tarnished by the knowledge?
I should have known Brock’s presence would bite me in the ass. It was inescapable, a cruel inconvenience, and one that kept him firmly in his line of sight. How could she forget him when he—and more notably, Natasha—were so present? When Natasha insisted on parading it in front of her, flag in hand?
There has to be an explanation. It wasn’t what you think it was.
I drew a deep breath to steady myself, fearing it would only flame the inferno in my chest.
Trust her, I told myself. There’s nothing he has that she wants.
Except money. Power. Status. He’s everything you’re not, another merciless voice said.
She doesn’t want that. I know she doesn’t.
That ruthless other self only smiled like it knew better.
I made it back to the reception hall, and when the interns caught sight of me, there was a light of concern in their eyes. So I did my best to smooth my face, to calm myself, to offer a smile and relax my coiled shoulders and clenched fists, still poised to make Brock Bancroft eat his own teeth.
The visceral fury surprised and confused me. Not that I could have knocked Brock out—I’d been in enough fights with and behind my brothers that I held no issue with expressing myself with my fists, if necessary. But the depth of the potential betrayal tore open a part of me I rarely saw, one without ration.
What has she done to me?
I was changed, and at present, that change was not pretty. I sought to know why and realized it was simple.
I loved her. And the thought of her leaving me for that son of a bitch had turned me into a monster.
Lila wouldn’t entertain him, I was sure. So sure that I watched the doors of the ballroom, waiting for her to rush in and tell me everything, moving things around without purpose just to stop myself from going crazy. But the minutes ticked by, and still, there was no Lila.
She’s busy, I assured myself. She’s in charge of this whole operation, and Addison is here, looking for an excuse to hurt her.
The thought redirected my rage to Addison, a protective flare overpowering my jealousy and fear over Brock.
When I couldn’t stand Lila’s absence anymore, I exited the ballroom, heading through the grand hallway to the atrium, buttoning the top button of my suit coat on my way. I slid into the room with the stream of the wealthy, chattering guests, splitting off once I entered to snake around the back. Lila stood in the corner, visible enough that anyone who needed her could find her but discreetly enough that she almost blended in. When she saw me, her eyes lit up, her red lips smiling her relief that was cool rain on that fire in me.
She dismissed an intern as I approached, and I put all my energy into playing it cool.
“Look at you,” she said with an admiring sweep of my form. “I love this suit.”
“Same goes. The Armani?” I guessed, the twin black suit to her white one.
“It’s a special occasion,” she said with a smile.
“The wedding?”
“Only in that it marks the end of the whole ordeal.”
I couldn’t help but smile back, even with worry niggling at my heart. The conversation halted with an uneasy pause.
“So,” I started, hoping an opening would lead to an admission, “how’s everything going? Hit any snags?”