I can admit that much, even though I despise her. And she isn’t the only one to blame for wreaking havoc on my life. I can’t hold her accountable for my heartbreak. I brought that on myself.
The door to the gym’s basement closes behind the woman who took a job at the place for the sole purpose of stalking me. I’m waiting beside the boxing ring. The irony of having this conversation beside those ropes isn’t lost on me. Hell, I’d rather challenge her to a physical match than verbally spar with her.
But she demanded a face-to-face meeting, and I wasn’t inviting her to my apartment. No one would question my presence at the elite fitness center even if I did arrive in a thousand-dollar, custom suit instead of my gym clothes. And despite the entire mess, she still has a fucking job at this place. When this is all over, I’ll call the management myself and demand answers.
“Hello, Gavin.”
She crosses the space and stops in front of me. She’s wearing a white Polo shirt with the gym’s logo and fitted blue jeans. She looks ready to work the next shift at the receptionist desk on the main floor. Her arms are crossed below her breasts, the fingers of her right hand drumming lightly on her bicep.
“This is exactly the type of place you would invite me when we were dating.” She glances around the room. “For a very different purpose, of course. Though I suppose there is little chance of getting caught. When Gavin Black asks for the ring, the staff has strict instructions to reserve it for your exclusive use. All that money you’ve made comes with a lot of perks, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. I built a company and made a fortune for the fucking ‘perks,’ ” I say. “It’s my way of ensuring I never get locked in a bathroom again.”
“But you still get beat up, don’t you?” She nods to the ring.
“On my terms.” I fold my arms across my chest.
She arches a perfectly plucked eyebrow and cocks her head. Her long ponytail falls over her shoulder. “I thought you called because you’re ready to deal. I assumed you’d tired of parading the girl next door around as your fiancée, and want this mess to go away.”
“I know who you are, Ms. Galanos.” If we’re going to battle beside the ring, using only our words, I’m determined to maintain the upper hand. “I’ll give you twenty million—”
Her smile fades, but her gaze sharpens. “The price was one hundred million to start.”
I shake my head. “I’ll give you twenty for the photos. I’ll also toss in a first-class, one-way ticket to Greece. You’ll receive the transfer as soon as you’ve landed. Stay away from New York, away from me, and away from the media for the next year, and I’ll transfer another million. And another the year after that. Same terms. Verbal agreement only. This will never be in writing.”
She lets out a laugh. Then her mouth forms a thin line. “No.”
“I won’t offer more, Ms. Galanos. The price goes down by half when you leave here. I don’t want to give you anything. But this nonsense has already taken up a lot of my time.”
“I’m no longer interested in a payment.” She casually tosses the words into the ring.
“Then what the hell do you want?” I snarl, letting anger hide my budding panic. Money is my only damn leverage. I worked my ass off to have enough so that nothing could touch me.
“I want to make sure your adoring fans, your friends, and business partners, everyone who’s connected to you, or knows about your company understands who you really are.”
Weak, powerless, incapable of fighting back.
“I’ll deny everything,” I say firmly. The psychologist’s words still echo in my mind from all those years ago when I was Terrance Montgomery. But I refuse to be held captive by my past. I set myself free. No one can trap me again.
“Do you think I found a job at this gym, flirted with you, slept with you—”
“Why did you fuck me?” I cut in.
“To get close to you. I worked hard to assume a new identity, just like you did. When I went to the media, I needed them to believe me. As your girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend, I knew they would listen. I didn’t come all this way to be dismissed.”
“I legally changed my name,” I say.
“I know. And I followed your example. I took my father’s last name. Then I moved to New York, and brought with me the photos and so much more.”
“Bullshit.” I want to call her bluff, dammit, and get the hell out of this room that smells like old gym socks. I want to escape this woman and my past.
“The police took my mother’s official records when they shut down her business. But after she killed herself, I found the boxes of photographs and journals from your case and others. You know, she wanted to find a way to help you. My mother was building a case against your foster family.”
“That’s what she told the prosecutor,” I say. “They didn’t buy the excuse any more than I do. If she wanted to help, why did she leave me there for over a decade? It couldn’t possibly take that long to build a case. Not when the prosecutors put one together in a matter of months.”
“My mother cared about you,” she insists, her voice dropping low. I can hear her Greek accent now. The one she’s hidden for the past few months. “She cared, and you destroyed her. She lost everything. My father walked out before I was born. And because of you, her license to run her adoption agency was taken away along with her ability to support her family. We were left with shame.”
There are tears in Alexandra’s eyes now. She’s furious and heartbroken all at once. And I realize, looking at her determined expression, that Kayla was right. I’m battling a woman who wants the same thing I do—revenge. We’re both fighting to repair wounds that run so deep they are impossible to heal. We’re fighting for fucking Band-Aids, something, anything that will ease the pain, or at the very least, hide the scars.
“Alexandra—”
“Do you think she wanted to raise us in Greece? We lived with my grandparents in the mountains, barely making ends meet after she lost her agency. My brothers hated her for uprooting their lives and taking them to a country where they didn’t speak the language. She was so sad. And then she killed herself!” Her voice is rising now and she takes a step toward me. I don’t back away.
“She was diagnosed with cancer and decided it was her due for her crimes. After all that time, she still blamed herself for all of the kids she failed, including her own. Including me.”
“I’m sorry you lost your mother, Alexandra. But I won’t let you dig up my past.”
“You can’t stop me,” she snaps. “I’m going to tear you apart. Reporters are calling me now. Not just the morning shows and gossip columnists who will drop the story as soon as you announce the designer for your bride’s gown. Real reporters have questions about you.”
I knew it was only a matter of time, but I don’t like hearing it confirmed.
“I’m going to show them the journals. Then everyone will know you’re not some perfect tech genius, the hot eligible bachelor.” She waves her hands through the air. “They’ll know you destroyed my mother.”
“That won’t change the value of my company.” It’s a bluff because I’m guessing she’s realized that admitting to lying about everything from your name to where you grew up doesn’t exactly inspire confidence when you lead a major venture. And it will likely prevent me from taking the business public one day.
“I don’t want to destroy your business. I want to hurt you.”
I’m tempted to take a step back because she’s looking a little crazy right now. And if this fight does turn physical, I can’t raise a hand to her, even if she strikes first.
“How will you feel when the world no longer sees you as New York’s most eligible bachelor?”
“I’ll be just fine,” I lie. Then I walk past her. “We’re done here, Alexandra.”
“And if I destroy Kayla Greene?” she calls after me.
I am an arm’s length away from the push bar on the door. I could walk away now because I know she can’t
dig up anything more on Kayla. Sure, she had a messy divorce. But Kayla left her ex. If the details ever came out, if somehow there was proof of the hurtful things Mr. Mistake said to her, she would look like a hero. She stood up for herself when it mattered most. She refused to let image, reputation, anything but her own happiness, define her.
Kayla’s a helluva lot braver than I am.
But that’s been true for a long time. I can play the part of the Alpha Male billionaire now. I glance at the ring where I carefully sculpted my body into what everyone wanted to see.
Except Kayla.
She won’t be waiting in my apartment when I get home tonight. And after I sent her away for daring to love me for more than the image I fought for in that damn ring, I doubt she’ll ask me to remove my shirt ever again.
I look at Alexandra one last time. I could fight like hell to shred this woman’s credibility. With my influence and Margaret’s reputation, I would probably win.
But in Kayla’s eyes, I would still be Mr. Misunderstood.
“You’re not just another Mr. Misunderstood? A man who refuses to let anyone in? Who won’t let anyone see the past that shaped his future?”
I can hear the echo of her words in my head. And yeah, I remember my response. I told her I wasn’t that guy because I had her.
If Kayla’s not in my life, I am that guy. I’m just another misfit who’s afraid to let anyone glimpse beneath the shiny surface.
“You can’t hurt, Kayla,” I say. “Say whatever you want about me. Do whatever you need to try to ease your pain. But believe me, the desire for revenge? It won’t fade. You would be better off falling in love.”
“You’re in love with her?” Alexandra challenges. “Or does she share your weird kinks?”
“That’s personal.” I turn and push on the door. “But yes, I’m in love with her and her dogs.”
I take the stairs two at time. Soon I’m running for the main floor with my phone pressed to my ear, calling the one person that can help me pave the way for true success.
“Margaret,” I say when I push through the door into the main lobby. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the receptionists staring at me. I bet Alexandra’s told them a lot about me. But I don’t give a damn right now what they think. I have a plan to win back the woman I love.
“How did it go with Alexandra?” Margaret asks. “Did you agree to a number?”
“I’m not giving her a dime,” I say. “Kayla was right. You too. I should have listened to you both a long time ago. I’m ready to throw it all away now.”
“Gavin, what did she say to you?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I step onto the street and hail a cab. I’ll call for Samuel later. “Just book shows for tomorrow. All of them. Or just your favorite. Get me on Good Morning with Charlene if you want. I don’t give a damn.”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Margaret says. “If you want to do interviews, wait until Monday.”
“I’m not waiting any longer. Tell them I’m ready to tell my story. And text me the time I need to be there.”
“Gavin, where are you going?” she demands.
“To the pound.”
“The what?”
“The place where you adopt dogs,” I say.
“The ASPCA is closing soon,” Margaret says in a tone that suggests I’m trying her patience. “If you plan to reveal your history on television tomorrow, we should meet and talk about how you present your story. This is going to come as a shock to many of the people you work with, and your investors. We also need to contact your modeling agency, and I would suggest alerting the board at your company—”
“I’ll draft an email tonight,” I cut her off as I settle into the back seat of a yellow cab. “I trust you to handle the rest. Right now, I need to adopt a dog.”
CHAPTER 25
KAYLA
Bright colors blanket the Hudson Valley’s rolling hills. I look out over the sea of reds, oranges, and yellows. The dogs and I are the only ones at the summit of our favorite hike today. The tourists rarely venture onto this trail and never this early in the morning, even on a Saturday. Most hikers prefer a river view and the midday warmth. But my dogs would rather run off leash on an empty trail, and they’ve been up since sunrise.
Today we’re celebrating Luna’s freedom from the dreaded cone. The vet cleared her yesterday afternoon. In the process, Marianne asked a dozen or so questions about my upcoming wedding. I evaded all of them. I’ll wait for Gavin to make the public announcement. He has a team of people at his beck and call, plus the fearless Margaret. They will know what to say. I don’t have a clue.
But there is one person who needs to hear the news from me.
With a sigh, I sit down on a fallen log and retrieve my cell from my fleece pocket. I find the number and hit send.
“Hi, Mom,” I say when she answers after the first ring.
“Hello, Kayla. Is everything all right?” I hear the whirl of the golf cart in the background.
“Yes and no,” I say, going for honesty. “Did I catch you before you hit the golf course?”
“I’m driving my cart over now,” she says. “But I can play later. What’s happened?”
“The engagement is off. Gavin and I aren’t getting married.” The words come out in a rush. There’s so much more to explain, but I stop there. I don’t want to burst into tears at the top of my favorite hike, on this beautiful fall day, because a boy broke my heart.
Not just any guy. He’s my best friend.
Though at this point, I’m not sure we’re even friends. I can’t picture sitting down to lunch with Gavin and listening to his latest dating troubles, not now that I know what he looks like naked.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”
The sympathy in her tone feels genuine. I cling to it, murmuring, “Thanks, mom.”
“Did you call off the wedding?” my mother asks. She has moved into a quiet room or hallway, somewhere apart from sound of carts and clubs smacking into little balls.
There was never going to be a wedding. Or at least that wasn’t part of the plan, not until we made love, then I fell in love, and Gavin proposed.
“Yes. I called it off.”
“I thought as much. Why?”
I close my eyes. My mother, the former accountant, lives for reason. She’s never been the type to pop open a bottle of wine and call my ex names.
That’s what best friends are for, I realize. After Gavin helped me leave Jason, we split a hundred dollar bottle of champagne and created the nickname Mr. Mistake. He stayed with me, letting me laugh and cry, sometimes both at the same time, until he knew I could handle the heartbreak on my own.
“Why did you call off your engagement?” My mother asks again.
“Mom, he is so wrapped up in being Gavin Black Billionaire that I’m afraid I don’t fit in. And I can’t change—”
“Did he ask you to?”
“No.” But he proposed out of desperation, not love.
“And yet, you expect him to change for you,” my mother says evenly. “Kayla, he is Gavin Black Billionaire.”
“That’s not all he is,” I say. “Yet he’s consumed with protecting his image.”
“He’s worked hard to make something of his life. After everything that boy went through, he deserves a fresh start. You know that.”
“Mom, you don’t understand.”
“Try me.”
So I tell her everything. I explain about the blackmail, the fake engagement, and the proposal. I leave out the teensy, tiny detail that I slept with him. I’m hoping she can figure that out on her own because I suspect my throat with close up if I try to say “sex” and “Gavin” to my mother.
“That poor boy,” my mother says when I finally stop talking.
“Mom,” I protest. “You’re supposed to take my side.” Luna walks over to my side and rests her head in my lap as if she senses my distress. The other dogs glance over at me but continue sniffing around the clearing.
“Gavin has been trying to walk away from a past that would have destroyed any other man. He needs you, Kayla.”
I run my hand over Luna. I’m starting to think I should have sent a text to my mother and then had a heartfelt conversation with my dogs. “What if his need to hide his secrets consumes him?” I ask, speaking more to my Labrador than my mother. “I can’t marry a man who is obsessed with his image.”
My mother is quiet for a long time. “It’s not his image, Kayla. For Gavin, its self-preservation.”
She’s right.
I don’t say the words out loud, because I can’t quite bring myself to admit that mother saw what I couldn’t. I approached my relationship with Gavin through the lens of my failed marriage. And that wasn’t fair to him.
“I need to go, Mom. I have to call him.”
“I love you,” she says. “Send Gavin my love too.”
“I love you too,” I quickly add before ending the call. Then I lower the phone and stand up. The abrupt movement startles Luna. She gives a bark as if there might be a threat nearby. The other dogs respond to Luna, quickly surrounding me.
“I need to call Gavin while we head home,” I inform the dogs. “So don’t go chasing after deer or wild turkeys. This is a serious conversation.”
Ava cocks her head and barks. Then she trots to the trailhead.
“I mean it.” I’m looking at Luna now. Free from the cone, my Labrador wins the prize for Dog Most Likely to Chase a Turkey. I don’t want to scream “Leave the bird alone” while having a heart-to-heart with the man I love.
I glance at my phone and speed dial my number one contact. Gavin answers on the first ring.
“Kayla,” he says. “I can’t talk right now. Did you get my text?”
“What?” I stop walking and the dogs glance back at me. “No, I didn’t.”
“I’m doing it, Kayla. I’m walking on the set of Good Morning with Charlene right now. I’m going to tell the whole world my story.”
“Gavin.” My knees threaten to buckle, so I sink to the ground and sit smack in the center of the leaf-covered path. The dogs surround me.
He’s risking the freaking lifeboat he built to save himself.
Mr. Misunderstood Page 21
