Fire in an Amber Sky

by Addison Moore

  “Congratulations.” Aspen is the first to say it, and Stevie and I follow suit.

  “So, what now?” Stevie asks. Prior to this, Kinsley was given a token position in HR over at Jinx. Her only role at Merlin is heir to the throne—second in line at that.

  “Now we rally together.” She takes up my hand and Aspen’s, nodding at Stevie to complete the chain. “We find out who’s cutting us off at the knees, and we do what the Lionhearts have done for hundreds of centuries. We survive, we thrive, we hunt, and we kill.” Her lucent blue eyes shift to mine. “We lie in wait, and then we pounce.”

  Of all people to lay out a battle cry worthy of repeating, I wouldn’t have pegged my sister for it—not this one at least. But Kinsley nailed it.

  I already know whom the bastard is who’s cut us off at the knees. Both Jinx and Merlin have tanked so far so fast they’ve lost half their worth in a matter of days. Stocks are down, so that means there’s a fire sale, and if it’s anything I’ve learned in business, it’s buy low and then hang the hell on. But I’m not filling my sisters in on this. I’ve already rolled out all of my reserves and bought out every last share of Jinx and Merlin before Luke can think to do it. What better way to take over both companies? It would have been a genius move on his part, soften the systems, make a fix so irresistible the customers vote for you with their dollars and buy out all the shares once they hit rock bottom. But he doesn’t take home the big prize—he can’t buy out a single share because I nailed them all as soon as the bell rang this morning. I bet his face was as red as his asshole when he saw that he had come so far only to fail at what he wanted most. And once we upgrade our systems, his new start-up won’t have a crooked leg to stand on. I’m the one that knocked that little shit to the ground before he could steal what was never his in the first place. Come Monday morning, everyone at this table will be thanking me.

  Stevie toasts to Kinsley’s new career move, and we all raise our glasses.

  “To new beginnings,” Stevie cries.

  “To new beginnings,” we chant after her.

  A new beginning—that’s what Macy has given me. That’s what I hope Macy will let me give her.

  A lot is about to change in our lives.

  All of it for the better.

  * * *

  Macy hasn’t come to my bed all weekend—said she wasn’t feeling well. Said she was on her period. I wasn’t about to question her, call her out on the fact it didn’t feel like she was telling the truth. Her cold demeanor—the rigidness she displays whenever I’m around have sent the message loud and clear. She’s not over anything that happened that night at her mother’s. I wanted to burst into her room all weekend, explain to her I have never done this before, beg her to forgive the shit out of me for being so ignorant, but I keep hoping she’ll be the one to come to me—quell my heart and my ego all at once.

  Last night, I pulled out that box of crystal trinkets, the ones meant for Jackie, and tried not to cry like a pussy. Each year on her birthday and Christmas, I add another one—throw my money away and watch the glassy pile grow. Next to it lies a box with my grandmother’s elongated ruby ring. It’s an antique. One I was hoping to have sized for Macy’s delicate finger. We can have a long engagement if she wants. Hell, I just want to make her mine, and now that concept seems so far removed it’s laughable.

  Monday at Jinx is somber. I wait until the Cannons figure out what’s hit before making a move. The last time they were aggressively bought out, it was my father at the helm. My sisters and I stormed through these halls and wiped the dimples right off their Cannon faces. But today, it’s just me—going against a brother I didn’t know existed a few weeks back. One who had it in his heart to take down both the Cannons and the Lionhearts with one hungry bite. Glad I could cut him off at the balls before he hurt Macy’s family or mine.

  At exactly 10:03 a.m., Ford calls an emergency meeting. This time he funnels it down to the Lionhearts and the Cannons, and a few spare employees he trusts like Jener and Arabella. The boardroom has never seen such a sparse showing. The rows of empty chairs tilt away from the table, embarrassed to be here.

  Stevie and Aspen look bright-eyed, not sullen like their lesser halves. Kinsley is happily clueless, but her Chanel suit helps her play the part of corporate goddess with an Oscar worthy performance.

  Ford waits until the click of the door takes place before lifting his eyes to mine.

  “You fucking piece of shit.”

  “Whoa.” Stevie jumps out of her seat like an angry jack-in-the-box. “What the hell?” she snaps at the man she loves.

  Macy cuts me a wide-eyed look as if she’s about to learn one more horrible truth about me, but I’m comfortable in the fact it’s quite the opposite. After this, I plan on taking her to the Riviera house. The owners accepted the offer, I transferred the money, and now all that’s left to do is for it to record before I get the keys. I’m hoping a proposal and a beachfront house are enough to pull us out of this funk. I have that ruby warming in my pocket just for her.

  “I’ll tell you what the hell.” Cash tosses his silver pen at me, and it slices by my ear, whistling with its heft. “Someone primed us for the kill and then went for the jugular.”

  I refrain from doing anything, but I’m amused at how quickly the finger is pointed to me.

  “Admit it, Lincoln.” Carter is angry, but not as gruff as his brothers. “You ate our fucking lunch a year ago, and now you’ve come back and taken the scraps.”

  Cash seethes. “I knew you were a worthless piece of shit from the get-go. I will not forget this. I will make your life a living hell for taking everything my brothers and I worked so hard to build and snatching it away—for a second time!” He slams his hands over the table, and the room rattles. “You took it from your fucking sisters! Your niece!” His voice thunders over the walls. A lone vein wiggles under his temple, threatening to burst. I wish it would. “You took it from the woman you claim to have feelings for.” He says feelings with mock intent.

  “Lincoln, what’s happening?” Macy pushes back from the table as if she’s about to get sick.

  “That’s what I want to know.” Kinsley looks unsteady, already rethinking her foray into business.

  “Okay.” I unfold my hands to show I have nothing to hide. “You’re right. I bought out every share that was sold and abandoned of both Jinx and Merlin. But I didn’t do it to cash in for myself, to crown myself the new king and kick anyone off their shiny glass throne,” I growl at Cash. “It was to save your asses. To save all our asses from being bought out from someone else, someone who’s been plotting this for who knows how long as a part of the vengeance he has against my father.” I glare at Luke.

  “Me?” He inches back, the feigned look of innocence waning on his face. “Man, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  “You stuck the pins in the software at both companies. Then, you coded miles of patches, enough to reach the moon. As soon as the shares plummeted, you were going to dip your hand into the cookie jar. I did the math before you could solve the equation. I beat you to the punch.”

  Luke takes a mean breath. “And where was a hardworking blue collar boy like me going to garner the funds needed to pull this off?”

  Shit. “I don’t know what you have access to. None of us do.”

  “I’ll submit full financials this afternoon. I’ll take a lie detector test to prove you wrong.” His eyes dance over mine with wicked delight. “It was you who was looking for a pinhole leak. As soon as that hack took your stocks down, you jumped on the first chance you could to secure this place for yourself. I’ve heard enough to know you have never cared for the fact your sister gave her share of what you stole the first time right back to the man that built this place. Face it, you hate the Cannons, and you hate me. You orchestrated this entire event to bring all of it down in concert.” He turns to Macy. “See this? He’s unstable. If things don’t go his way, he’ll burn the building down to cinders be
fore he yields to anyone else. Selfish, spoiled, megalomaniac brat.” He charges out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him as loud as a gunshot.

  The Cannons get up and leave one by one. Each of my sisters moans something about needing a minute and leave in a collective group.

  “Congratulations.” Macy glares at me from across the table. “You got me.” She tosses her hands in the air. “Did not see that coming. You hold a lot of secrets to the vest. I don’t know why this surprises me. I guess I thought I knew you.”

  “You do.”

  She huffs a sad laugh, shaking her head with mild disgust.

  “No, I don’t. I’m not sure I want to.”

  Macy leaves the room, taking my heart right along with her. There will be no gifting of a beach house, certainly no engagement. I’ve managed to take what good we had—wad it up and toss it into the trash without having a clue as to what I was doing. That’s the only thing I’m good at—destroying the women I love.

  Merlin and Jinx—two mediocre pieces of crap stain my mind. They infiltrate my nostrils with the scent of their worthlessness. I don’t know how he did it, but Luke has left me holding a burning bag of crap. Both companies have further lost their equity, holding only a fraction of their worth compared to a mere month ago.

  Then it hits me—his vicious—his fucking brutally brilliant plan—and I drop my head in my hands for a moment before roaring back up for air.

  “Fuck!” I jump up and knock the entire damn table on its side.

  His revenge wasn’t simply aimed at my father. He decided to take me along for the ride, and I played perfectly into his hands. He knew he didn’t have the money to pull off the buyout. Instead, he hit the alarm and knew I’d follow that shit until I put the damn fire out myself. I fell right into his thorny little paws.

  Sorry, little brother. You don’t get to take a shit on me and get away with it.

  Something deep inside me already knows he did.

  He ate his prey when we least suspected it.

  He’s a Lionheart after all.

  Too bad for him, I have a bigger bite.

  I’m about to take back all that’s mine, restore everything to the way it should be, and Macy is at the top of the list.

  Air of Contention

  Macy

  I don’t go back to work. Instead, I speed over to Kinsley’s and clear my shit out of that tiny office in ten minutes flat. I didn’t have that much stuff with me anyhow. I wheel my suitcase behind me with a little less vigor than I just displayed while tossing my belongings into it haphazardly. This is his fault. He did this. It was his plan to eviscerate my family all along. And creating those patches while lying in bed with me? I bet the pleasure was all his. My heart is shattered at the thought of anything between us not being genuine.

  Lincoln’s door hangs lonely in the hall, and I head over to touch the handle one last time. Before I know it, I’m inside clutching the pillow on his side of the bed—inhaling his scent so hard I’ve just vacuumed ten feathers into my lungs. A piercing pain, sharp and final, guts me as I lose it and sob into this olfactory version of him. I should hate him, hate myself for not loathing him properly, but my heart still aches for what it can never have. Face it, Lincoln was never ready to give it to me. I was just a bump in the road to getting what he really wanted, my uncles’ company. Instead of helping my family get revenge like I should have done in the first place, I was swayed by the Arian god before me. I lay over his desk like an act of worship and begged—begged—him to have his way with me. He played me like a bear with a kitten in its paws. I was the ultimate fuck you to my uncles.

  A silver seam shines from under his dresser as if someone took a gel pen and drew a line into the darkness. I lean over, curious, running my finger along the icy hardware. I half expect it to slice open my flesh, carve into me the way Lincoln had over my existence. It’s cold, metallic in nature, and I pluck it free to reveal the backside of a picture frame. I flip it over, and my stomach knots up.

  It’s a girl with Lincoln. Both of them look so young. But it’s her hair that tips me off as to whom she might be.

  “Red hair,” I whisper, touching it, running lines through the dust as I pet it. “Red.” It’s more of a burnt orange to my blood red, but she is my sister in the follicular sense. We redheads need to stick together and all that other ginger bullshit. “Jackie,” I whisper her name as if she had the power to speak back to me. My eyes drift to Lincoln, young Lincoln with an open-mouthed smile on his jubilant face. He was so beautiful even then. The innocence of youth captured in this freeze frame.

  This is not the Lincoln I know; this is the carefree and gloriously spirited version. It’s the one I wanted to know— the one I thought I had unearthed, chipped years of clotted dirt off his heart like some long, forgotten coin. For a second, I think of taking this with me, leaving it triumphantly on his desk like a desperate parting shot. You wouldn’t tell me, but I knew, sort of bullshit—even though I still know nothing. Instead, I drop it where I found it, face down, red hair to hardwood, both of them staring at the nothingness that lies ahead in their future.

  Jacqueline Beranger was the great love and great loss of Lincoln Lionheart’s life, and I can never beat that. I can never take her place.

  I had not been careful, and now I was wounded far greater than anything Bradley and Leah had ever done to me collectively.

  A ripe pain tears through my chest as I take one final look around at our little love nest, sex den whichever. That box of condoms shines purple in this dull light. The tube of “magic lube” as we came to call it sits curled, waiting patiently to be made useful again. His majestic, dark headboard that broods almost as dramatically as its owner spreads its wings over the wall in one final farewell. I’ll never see the inside of this room again.

  And if I have my way, I will never see Lincoln. I take a single step outside, and it feels as final as a funeral.

  A spike of anger courses through me at the notion that he simply threw me away, deceived me so openly right along with the rest of my family. My ego would like to think I was the ultimate FU, but the truth is, I was merely a girl who foolishly begged her way into his bed. I’m sure he fucked me with glee, screwing the Cannons, literally.

  He called me his favorite sin, and now I know why. Lincoln made me think he loved me—that was a grievous wound. That bastard took pleasure in my ignorance.

  In a flash, I whip back into his bedroom. I drag that frame out from under the dresser with my shoe and flip it over. Old Me and New Me agree to just do it, so I crack the glass with my heel and toss it onto his bed. I pluck the box out of his bottom drawer and empty its contents over the middle of his mattress like crystal cut confetti. I’m exposing the sickening shrine for what I’m positive that this glittering collection was meant to be—his miniaturized affections for a girl that branded his heart with her effigy. He would never want another redhead after her. God, she was probably a virgin when he got to her. The soft click of glass hitting glass ricochets, one cheery snap after another. A leg flies off the rabbit and lands near his pillow. My obsession with that dumb bitch hits an all-time crescendo.

  You can have him, Jackie. Oh, wait, that’s right. You don’t want him. That’s what got me into this mess to begin with.

  I take my suitcase and get the hell out of there.

  A part of me thinks it was juvenile, that I should have taken the high road. Instead, I stooped to his perverted level.

  But that’s not true.

  I could never stoop that low.

  * * *

  Halfway back to the Davenport, I make a turn onto the Ventura Freeway and head to Luke’s rental house instead. Luke Van Der Wolff’s Encino home is a vast, sprawling estate that butts up to a slope, so the only hope for entertaining guests is the massive front deck.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call,” I say when he answers the door.

  His hair is dewy from the shower. He’s already changed from his suit into a pair of jeans
and a T-shirt. He’s disarming in this environment, in these clothes. At work, he’s a corporate Adonis like his brother, but here, he looks like a frat boy getting ready to troll the party scene.

  “Never apologize.” He pulls me in by my fingers. “Come here.” Luke offers a quick, comfortable embrace that manages to maintain its platonic boundaries, despite the fact his cologne has tickled my sexual senses. It’s much sharper than the subtle one Lincoln wears. Lincoln’s cologne has seeped into his skin, into his cellular level. It’s the scent that was left on his pillow, and now I wish I would have taken it. Lincoln could afford to buy enough pillows to dress the planet in, but I would forever just need that one. I think it’s sick the way he essentially used me, abused my psyche to get back at my family, and yet, I still wish that I could hold on to some intimate part of him. I’ll need therapy, lots of fucking therapy to cure myself of him.

  “You’ll stay here.” Luke doesn’t even need to be told why I showed up on his doorstep, and it’s a relief. “I’ll try to keep the girls at a minimum.” He offers a lazy wink as we fall onto the couch together. “I’m sorry you got mixed up with him. He’s just like the old man. As soon as I saw him, I knew he was trouble.”

  Something about the way he espouses his effortless judgment bothers me. You can’t look at Lincoln and know what he’s capable of. Although, you can surmise that he has power, money, and an endless supply of women.

  “I’m just hopelessly stupid. I think I should write off men in general and focus on my career. I used to restore furniture—that was something I enjoyed. I’ve been so hopped up on avenging my ex, I jumped on the first penis I saw.” The words blubber from me in an ugly cry to span the ages. A part of me feels for Luke for having to witness this mess.

  He hops up and brings me a fresh glass of water with dozens of half-moon shaped ice cubes clogging it up to the rim and a fat wad of paper towels in his other hand.