by Staci Hart
“Thank you, Sorina,” I said, not needing to pretend this time.
Another pause, her smile fading. If her brows had been able to move, I had the feeling they would have gathered with concern. “I realize the position you’re in. With Brock and Natasha. And I want you to know that I admire your grace. You are a diamond, Lila Parker—brilliantly shining and completely unbreakable.”
I would have been suspicious had she not been so earnest. And though her eyes were a little glassy, she didn’t seem overtly drunk. It was an admission, nothing more. And I appreciated it.
“If only we could be truly unbreakable,” I said with a smile to disguise the truth of that wish. “But I appreciate your support. There’s no need to worry for me.”
“Oh, I don’t. If there’s one thing I won’t ever have to worry about, it’s you.” With a smile, she turned for the car and climbed in.
I watched that last SUV drive away, taking a moment to collect myself, to let the sense of understanding—and I couldn’t call it forgiveness, but acceptance, maybe?—sink in. It was emotional distance, as if observing them from behind a glass wall. A moment of objectivity. It was easier to think of Natasha as a wild honey badger, hissing at me with a threat she couldn’t act on. Because there was nothing she could do to me that hadn’t already been done, other than get me fired. But so long as I didn’t take the bait and open her cage, everything would be fine.
With the draw of a long, heavy breath, I turned for the doors to check on vendor load-out before heading to the club. Walking the plush hallways of the Plaza, Brock was on my mind.
Natasha I could accept. But Brock I could not. Considering he was in his mid-thirties, I figured it could be a midlife crisis. Or maybe some Peter Pan complex. He was vain, and on that merit alone, I could see the appeal of someone like Natasha. And he was arrogant, which he’d found a likeness with in her. Really, they had so much more in common than he and I did. She offered him youth, power, and the combined pride that made them nearly bulletproof.
I wondered if either of them had feelings, real, honest feelings. Natasha definitely felt rage and jealousy. Brock felt entitlement. But beyond that, what did they care for other than themselves?
And how had I gone on so long with someone so deeply selfish?
As much as I hated seeing him, he just kept making it easy for me to walk away. Oh, how much harder it would have been had he told me all the things I’d once wanted to hear, professed his love, begged me for forever. Don’t get me wrong, I still would have walked away. It just would have been harder, that was all.
I had to admit my satisfaction when Brock had seen Kash and me together. When Kash snarked at him with that easy smile on his face, defended me when he didn’t need to, saved me when I could have saved myself, just because he could. Just because he wanted to.
A hot ache bloomed in my chest. Kash was my safe place, my refuge. He was the best part of my life, which at present was dominated by the pack of starving hyenas known as the Felix Femmes and the fact that I was on the rebound and homeless. He gave me respite. But what had started off as a distraction had turned into something more. Something deeper.
I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want it to go away, though I’d done my best to put a modicum of space between us, thin as it was. There was nothing else I could do since realizing my feelings and the subsequent awareness that they probably weren’t returned. Except to tell him the truth.
But if I lost my safe place now, I’d come unraveled.
I closed my eyes and hung on to Kash with all my strength, solidly in denial where I would remain until I had no other choice.
The ballroom was pandemonium. Racks of chairs were being filled noisily. The kitchen crew rid tables of remaining glasses and flatware. Table linens were stripped and dumped into rolling bins. My two remaining interns were helping Kash pack up the centerpieces and displays, and by the look of it, they were nearly done. Sadly, Tess’s organization didn’t work in reverse—everything had been shoved willy-nilly in boxes and loaded onto carts, which hotel employees were already rolling out the back to be moved into his van. He directed it all with that cool, collected way he had about him, commanding attention while somehow remaining affable and undemanding. And everyone listened because everyone loved him.
I, on the other hand, ruled by fear. Not on purpose—it was just my nature. A byproduct of my incessant suspicion and general mistrust that someone else could do any given job to my requirements. Especially when the results of their work reflected directly on me.
As I checked in with the various crews, I watched Kash out of my periphery, wishing I could be so relaxed while being that productive. People said I was unflappable when in fact I got ruffled rather easily. Kash Bennet was truly unflappable. He remained unperturbed under the most stressful and chaotic of circumstances. When faced with a challenge, he kept a confident calm, assumed that everything would work out, and vowed to help however he could to make it so.
If he could bottle that up and sell it, I’d buy a truckload.
When I made it around to him, his arms were buried to the shoulders as he lowered the wound-up garland into a huge box.
“Looks like you’re almost done,” I said. “I think that’s the fastest floral load-out I’ve ever seen.”
“Well,” he said as he stood, “I figured I’d better get to it if I’m going with you to the club.”
I flushed with gratitude. “Are you sure? It’s going to be nothing but rich, drunk celebrities and socialites for hours.”
“If you think I’m letting you walk into that snake pit alone, you don’t know me at all.”
“Thank you,” I said, relieved that I’d have backup. “I have to get going. Meet me there?”
A nod and a smile. “I’ll be right behind you.”
The depth of that statement didn’t escape me. He had my back, and I didn’t take that for granted.
With a brief kiss and last-minute instructions to my interns, I was on my way out, carrying out phase two of the night that wouldn’t end. There was very little for me to do at the club. The venue had been rented out and would run as it always did. They had their own security and amenities, and as such, there wasn’t much for me to coordinate. But I couldn’t leave until the last guest was gone. Part of my job was to be on hand in case something went wrong. I was the fixer, the person whose sole purpose was to make sure everything went exactly as planned. But once we hit the balloon drop, the champagne distribution, the giant cake, and the birthday singing, I would have nothing to do but be present for the last two hours of the night.
Hopefully, Natasha would be too busy to bother with me. Thank goodness I’d have Kash to keep me company. And then, when it was all said and done, we could go back to the hotel and climb into bed, and he could make me forget tonight ever happened.
I held onto that thought as I slipped into a cab and rushed to the club. It was a gorgeous building, everything black and gold, the sign reading Noir in an art deco font. In fact, everything was deco, from the geometric bursts and slashes in glimmering gold to the finger curls and shimmering fringe of the aerial dancers suspended from the ceiling.
Everything was exactly in order, the club beginning to fill up. The hundred people we’d carted over were the tip of the iceberg—she’d invited eight hundred of her closest friends, and I suspected with their dates and people attempting to sneak in, we would hit the venue’s capacity.
As promised, Kash was right behind me. He took up post at the smaller bar off the dance floor, sipping on whiskey and serving as a silent presence, a touchstone in the madness of the club while I floated from post to post, making sure everything was running smoothly. Although the party was full of celebrities and invite only, there was still a VIP section upstairs, and I made my way up on my circuit with no real intention other than to keep moving.
Brock stood at the bar, long body stretched out as he leaned against the surface, elbow on the glossy onyx trimmed with gold, drink hanging in the
circle of his fingers. Natasha was nowhere to be seen, and for that, I was grateful. Although the space was barely lit and full of people, his eyes snapped to me, just like they’d done all night.
Discomfort wriggled in me, and I straightened myself up to banish it, heading for the other end of the bar where one of the managers stood.
A brief conversation with her confirmed that everything was up to scratch, and with a word of thanks, I turned to get out of there before Natasha came back. I’d successfully avoided her all night, and though I was sure my luck would run out at some point, I wasn’t planning on knocking on its door.
Brock, it seemed, had other plans.
He pushed off the bar, striding toward me like a bullet. Pretending I didn’t see him, I kept moving for the stairs.
“Lila,” he called.
But it was loud, so I kept walking as if I hadn’t heard.
His hand on my arm was unfortunately unavoidable.
I stopped. Turned. Looked down at his hand, which he removed with a slide, his fingers tasting the shape of my forearm before dropping away.
“Are you all right?” he asked, brows drawn.
“What do you care?” I asked back with a calm I didn’t feel.
“A lot actually.” A pause. “Listen, I know this isn’t easy—”
“Don’t pretend to understand how I feel. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“No, I won’t excuse you. Because I know you’re not okay, Lila.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“Because contrary to your belief, I do care.”
A humorless laugh shot out of me.
At least he had the decency to look remorseful. “I’m sorry for this. For all of it. I just wanted you to know.”
“You mean you wanted me to let you off the hook.” I stared at the stranger before me, finding the truth of that accusation all over his face. “I can’t believe you. You really expect me to clear your conscience? Because I may be a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them.”
Rather than flinching like I’d hoped, he drew himself up to his full height, eyes narrowing. “This … none of this is what I thought it would be.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“When she came to me—” He caught himself, pausing to reorient what he’d been planning to say. “None of the reasons make sense to me anymore, Lila. I can’t seem to understand how we got here.”
“I’d be happy to remind you. I’m sure Natasha wouldn’t mind either.”
His eyes narrowed. “Do you always have to be such a bitch? Jesus, Lila, I’m trying to apologize.”
“And I’ve already told you, it’s not accepted.” I tried to turn, but he hooked my arm.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I wouldn’t have even come tonight if I could have avoided it. But then again, I didn’t realize your fuckboy would be here, or I wouldn’t have felt so bad.”
For a moment, I stared at him with a storm brewing in my chest, knowing full well that if that storm came to fruition, I was going to get myself in trouble, more trouble than I was already in. “Are we done here? I need to go check on the cake and balloons for your girlfriend.”
His jaw locked, the muscles bouncing as he watched me for a handful of heartbeats. “Yeah, we’re done here.”
“Good. If there’s a problem, do me a favor and tell anyone but me.”
With a dizzying turn, I headed for the stairs, hands shaking as I made my way down to the main floor. The crowd was thick and bouncing, the music thumping at such a decibel, I felt it in my chest, in the air. I saw Kash from across the club, his smile fading as he looked me over. He straightened up as if to move for me, and that reassurance would have made me smile had Natasha Felix not stepped in front of me with murderous eyes.
I stopped, jolting back a little from the shock and velocity of my pace.
“Is everything to your liking?” I asked, praying to God that there was a problem I could actually solve.
“As a matter of fact, it’s not. I saw you talking to Brock.”
I stiffened, feeling the presence of a cameraman at my elbow. It’s a setup. “Then you also saw that he chased me down to talk to me. I have no intention of speaking to him again, if that makes you feel better.”
“It doesn’t,” she shot with enough force that she listed. I realized just how drunk she was, and my worry deepened. “It doesn’t make me feel better. You are not to speak to him.”
Rebellion flared. “Nowhere in my contract does it state that you can dictate who I speak to and who I don’t.”
But she smiled that wicked, cruel smile. “Rumor is, you don’t get along with Addison Lane. Wonder what she’d think if she heard you flirted with my boyfriend all night.”
That got my attention. My lips flattened, face stiff. “Maybe you should worry more about your boyfriend and less about me. He stopped me, Natasha, not the other way around. If you honestly think I want to even lay eyes on him again, you haven’t been paying attention. But really, I should be thanking you. If it wasn’t for you, I never would have realized what a pathetic shitbag he is.”
She pulled in a breath that heaved her chest, and then she breathed fire. “You really don’t feel anything, do you? He said you were cold and heartless, but I didn’t really believe it until just now. You don’t care about anything but yourself, do you? You’re a robot, just like he said. And a terrible lay. That,” she said, hatefully looking down my body, “I believed.”
“Takes one to know one,” I answered, forcing a smile. “It’s almost time for your cake.”
She glared, shoulders square, blocking my path.
“If you don’t let me go, we won’t be able to start,” I reasoned with a single desire—to get as far away from her as I could.
“Stay away from him,” she said through her teeth.
“My pleasure.”
I clipped away on shaky legs, making my way through the crowd and backstage. The crew didn’t need anything from me but a point to my watch, and in seconds, the music stopped so the DJ could announce her birthday. The cake would roll onto the dance floor, one of Katy Perry’s dancers would pop out, “Happy Birthday” would be sung, and the balloons would drop.
On autopilot, I watched the cake come out, finding my intern up on the catwalk with a crew member holding the rope to the balloons. The happenings went on around me, and I observed with clinical detachment, my mind somehow both present and a thousand miles away.
You really don’t feel anything, do you?
How I wished she were right. The sting of her salt burned to my bones. But it wasn’t just the words she’d spoken. It was the truth in them. Maybe this was all my fault. Maybe I’d pushed him away, or maybe I’d been too bold. Maybe I was cold. Heartless. Unlovable and unable to love.
Maybe it had been me all along.
I felt Kash near with a gathering of my senses, of my nerves, as if they were reaching for him. When I turned, I found worry written all over him—in the line between his brows, in the flattening of his lips, in the draw of his shoulders and the tightness of his fists at his sides.
And I cracked under the pressure, the scaffolding crumbling just because he was here, and he was safe, and he was strong enough to carry my burden with me.
He said nothing, just wrapped me up in his arms, slipped a hand into my hair to cup my head, holding me to his chest like a precious thing. And I breathed him in, the scent of earth and soap and musk.
They started singing when he leaned back to inspect my face as if for wounds. “Who do I need to kill?”
My laughter surprised me. “They’re not worth a felony.”
A flicker of a smile. “Tell me.”
“Brock caught me upstairs.”
Kash tensed.
“It was fine. He wanted me to make him feel better about this whole thing, and I refused.”
“Attagirl,” he said, that corner of his lips ticking up again.
“But Natasha saw and cornered me. Or blockad
ed me. She threatened my job, pressed my bruises. She wants to hurt me. In fact, I think she’s planning to make a career out of it.”
“Can’t imagine there’d be much money in it.”
I wished I could laugh.
“Do you think she’s just doing it for the cameras?”
“Maybe.”
He paused, seeming unnerved by my silence. “What did she say?”
“That … that I didn’t care about anyone but myself. That Brock was right—I’m emotionless, heartless. Passionless. Maybe they’re right.” Anything else I might have said jammed in my throat, squeezed tight with emotion.
“They’re not.” Kash cupped my face, held it delicately in his wide palm, tilted it up to his. “Do you hear me? They’re wrong. You care more than anyone I’ve ever known, and I’m a Bennet.”
The smallest of laughs eased my heart.
“I mean it,” he insisted with quiet demand. “I have seen your passion, and it has left me changed.”
I stared up at him, at the fervency in his face and the honesty of his words. “Kash …”
“They want to hurt you, Natasha strictly for sport. Don’t let them. Don’t give them that. Because they are wrong about you. Trust me when I promise you that.”
“I do,” I said, believing him with my whole heart.
A soft, sweet smile brushed his lips. “I also promised I’d make you forget him, and I don’t break my promises.”
“It worked,” I admitted with reckless courage. “It worked too well.”
He stilled.
For a protracted moment, we hung in that limbo, watching each other as we stood at the edge I’d been so afraid of for so long. And there was nothing left to do, no ground left to rely on.
It was time to jump.
