That betrayal rose in me, tightening every muscle with the urge to fight, not fly. Quietly, I answered, “No, I don’t suppose they do.”
Caroline leaned back, that mild, carefree smile still on her traitor face. “Sorina Felix called me yesterday to tell me how disappointed she was in Addison and Natasha. We thought she knew—Natasha assured us she did. We probably should have known not to trust her.” She laughed, a flippant sound. “But she demanded Addison’s job, recommended that you not only take her place, but handle their events from now on, if you want the job.”
I opened my mouth to tell her to go to hell, and she saw it, cutting me off before I could speak.
“There’s more. The producer wants to offer you your own show. After the display at the wedding, she’s planning to paint you as the underdog, the unknowing heroine.”
“What had they expected to paint me as? A fool?”
But she laughed, making a mockery of my pain. “Really, it couldn’t have worked out better for you.”
“I’m afraid I’d have to disagree,” I noted.
Dutifully, she ignored me. “They’ll spin off into a show featuring you as the celebrity wedding planner. Think of it, Lila—think of what it could mean for your career. And not just for you … if you keep using that little flower shop you’re so fond of, it could help them too.”
And that was it. That was where she knew she had me. I could see it on her face, that superior confidence, softened by a gentle face and easy words.
I thought I’d ruined Longbourne. But I could save it.
I could save them all.
They’d easily make the money to either buy out their Bower contract or pay for what was sure to be an unconscionable amount of money.
All I had to do was sell out.
I sat in the opulent leather chair across from the most powerful woman in my sphere who offered me everything I’d dreamed of for so long, and then some. It was all right there, waiting in her expectant palm. I only had to reach out and take it.
So I drew a breath that I knew would change everything and did what I had to do.
28
Directions to Hell
KASH
I’d never thought Mondays were the worst until today.
My days usually blurred together, Saturdays the same as Wednesdays in the greenhouse. But today I woke with heavy dread. I was not where I thought I’d be. Not today. Not in life.
Luke’s words had shaken my certainty, my resolve, and as a result, I spent the rest of that day holding on for her to text or call. I shouldn’t have expected to see her walking through the greenhouse door, not after everything. But I did. And she hadn’t.
All night, I’d thought about us. About her.
About the hellfire she’d endure when she walked into work today.
After everything she’d been through, to get fired. Fired and dumped. The knowledge that I’d added to her pain made me heartsick. But the thought of seeing her didn’t make me feel much better. And all of it left me wishing I could roll everything back, put things where they used to be. I wished for the simple comfort of her, that elemental thread that bound us. But it had been stretched to its limit, tight and creaking and ready to snap. I tried to tell myself it was broken, but that was a lie. I still felt that thread and was exhausted from fighting the urge to tug, to pull her back to me.
But this was the right thing, the inevitable thing. This was where I’d known it would end.
It didn’t stop me from worrying about her all morning, wondering what had happened when she walked through the doors of Archer. Wondering if Addison had gotten her licks in before, during, or after she’d gotten fired. Had they humiliated her even more? Had Natasha called for her head? Either way, they’d delivered. Of that, I was certain.
It was my fault. I shouldn’t have hit that son of a bitch. Or at least not there, in the middle of her event. But the location was the only thing I regretted. The punch itself was perhaps the most satisfying thing I’d ever done, besides being with Lila.
I was on my knees in the dirt, a tall bucket at my side brimming with mums in shades of fall. Mustard yellow, deep amber, rich crimson. Mindlessly, my hands moved, snipping where I knew to snip, filling the bucket with my thoughts circling about Lila. Maybe Ivy would know. I could ask her.
That, at least, gave me a sliver of hope.
My eyes shot up, looking for Lila when the door to the greenhouse opened.
This time, they found their mark.
She was beautiful, too beautiful, a thing made perfect by nature and gilded with Armani and Louboutin. Her eyes, cool and gray, were touched with hurt and hope.
I knew that feeling. I knew it too well.
Chest aching with the same pain that lived in the lines of her face, I rose.
She slowed as she approached, and for a moment, we stood there, breathing the same air, cataloging the sight of each other as if it were the first time and the last.
I tried to be mad, tried to remember all the ways she’d hurt me, all the reasons why we couldn’t. Why we shouldn’t. But I couldn’t think of a single one.
“Are you all right?” was all I could think to say, the thing I wanted most to know.
A smile, small and tinged with regret. “I will be.”
“I’m sorry, Lila. I’m so sorry you lost your job over this.”
“That’s the thing. They didn’t fire me.”
Shock and relief dashed through me, one behind the other. “How? What happened?”
“Caroline fired Addison and offered me her job. Sorina demanded it.”
A smile flickered on my lips. “You’re kidding.”
When she smiled back, it set a fire in my heart. “She didn’t know what Natasha had done, was blind to the setup and appalled by it. She wanted Addison’s head on a platter and her job given to me. She also requested that all of their events go through me, if I wanted it.”
“It’s all you’ve ever wanted,” I said with sadness.
“But that wasn’t even what shocked me. They offered me my own reality show.”
An uncertain pause, unsure that I’d heard her right. “Your what?”
“My own reality show. My ‘subplot’ on the show was so engrossing, they’re sure viewers would gobble it up. She even mentioned Longbourne and how much it could help the shop.”
That warmth in my heart flared into an inferno. After everything, she would drag me—drag my family—into that world of deceit.
It was low, lower than I’d thought she’d go.
“Like I said,” I snapped, “that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Fame and glory and money. You wanted power, and you got it. But leave Longbourne out of this. Take your contracts somewhere else.”
She staggered from surprise that shifted into fury. “Excuse me?”
I shook my head, turning to the flower bed, needing something to do, some way to dismiss her. “Congratulations,” I shot, unable to be kind, unable to be civil. “It’s all you’ve always dreamed of—to be one of them. But you won’t use my family’s legacy to boost ratings for your new show.”
“Kash, if you’ll let me explain—”