by Nicole Snow
In my heart, I already know there's no way, no how, I'll ever marry Knox. But there's no need to tell him as much just yet. I'll wait, purely so he'll taste a tiny sip of my pain.
After his self-destruction, his heartache, his games, it's the least he deserves.
I don't want him to suffer. I just want him to bow the hell out of my life, and disappear.
Fade, like the ugly phantom he's become, no more than a crude resemblance to the gorgeous man I almost loved.
I don't want his money or his connections. I want peace, an end to the agony every time I look his way, these bitter memories throbbing deep in my soul like a hidden tumor.
He can still give me the greatest gift of all.
If we move on. If we forget. If we stop chasing shadows that aren't even part of us anymore, and pretend we never had a clumsy, half-lit thing that went sour.
4
Sell Me (Knox)
I spend the next twenty-four hours walking a damn tight-rope. Kendra hasn't sent me a single text by the following afternoon, well after our deadline expired.
I bow out of work early, hoping I'll find her with my little sis.
Heading to ma's place, I find a lounging Jamers desperately trying to make up three weeks worth of missed papers. That alone tells me Kendra won't be by today.
There's only one place she can be: the posh, downtown office where her twitchy boss does his work surrounded by custom granite, manicured palm trees, and soft low lights.
I visited the public gallery attached to his studio once. Had to take Lizzie and ma out for the day, last year, during the anniversary of my old man's death. Always hits my ma the worst when it rolls around. She won't even step into the dining room where he keeled over in front of us for a good month leading up to it.
Art takes her mind off the reaper. If I can bring her to distraction heaven, I will, always keeping the bitter truth about dad's secret letters to myself.
Deep down, I still care about what happens to my family, including my lazy brat of a sister.
I park my truck in a garage across the street and step into the building. Inside, a receptionist with pink highlights in her short cropped hair looks up from texting on her phone. “Yes?” She chomps her gum like I just screwed her out of finishing her favorite show.
“I need to see Kendra Sawyer right now,” I say, flattening my hands on the countertop.
“Oh, the intern? She's with Mr. Gannon. You'll have to wait.”
Normally, I'd bribe my way in faster. Pull a Benjamin or two from my wallet, and lay it in her hand. But I don't like the stink-eye this reptile is giving me, so I just start moving, walking straight down the long hallway toward the studio.
“Hey, wait! You can't go back there without –“
Slouch. She yells, but she doesn't chase. I'm ripping open the sleek French doors a second later. It wins me appalled looks from Kendra and the portly, silver haired little man in the sweater vest who can only be Eric Gannon in all his pretentious glory.
“What's the meaning of this? Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my studio?” Gannon angrily pushes aside the mannequin they'd been working on, dressed to the nines in an ensemble too decadent for a royal, much less a dummy.
“Courtesy call. I'm here for Kendra.” I smile, loving her mortified expression more than I should.
Shame it doesn't last long. She's stepping past her livid boss, heading toward me with a scowl and a speed in her step I've only seen before on a mountain lion outside Sedona.
“Knox, don't.” It flies off her tongue like a bullet as soon as she's in my face. “This is my job. You can't bring this crap here.”
“Told you I needed an answer yesterday. You're late. I'm not leaving unless I get one.”
I don't break from the storm in her eyes until a furious Gannon grabs my arm. His plum shaped face is turning red, and I briefly wonder if I'm doing her a favor, pulling her away from his temper. “I'm not sure what's happening here, but I'll give you until the count of three. Then, if you're not off my property and out of my intern's face, I'll call the police. Press charges. I'll leave a permanent black mark on whatever record you –“
“Does this guy always start with big threats?”
Kendra opens her mouth, but the words never come. It's a deafening slap that echoes through the room instead. Her palm slams into my cheek, leaves it red and steaming.
I smile like a fucking fool. “Tell him you need five or ten. Let's go,” I say, totally undaunted by the blister she's left on my face.
Gannon stares in horror, and then reaches for his phone, stabbing his fishstick fingers at the screen while I drag Kendra outside. Practically have to throw her over my shoulder so she stops fighting me. I figure I've bought myself five minutes tops before the Phoenix police are able to get here through the rush hour traffic.
Fortunately, the receptionist with the pink hedgehog hair is back on her phone, blind to what's happening in front of her.
“Knox, please. Please!” She repeats it like a mantra by the time we're outside, the hot evening sun blasting onto the pavement next to us. Dangerous words to my dick. Even more dangerous tone.
I let her leave my grip for the shade, so the sun doesn't hide the hateful spark in her emerald green eyes. “Jesus. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I'm serious about that offer, Sunflower. I didn't get an answer. Wouldn't have had to come here and make a scene if you'd called me up last night like I'd asked.”
“I don't owe you a thing. If you haven't figured out it's a resounding no by now, then you really must have a screw loose after all. I'm going inside. Wait here, maybe the police will be able to get you the help you seriously need.”
My heart bangs in my chest. Obviously, I knew she'd be upset, but I didn't know it'd be like this. I thought I'd sweet talk her after the initial shock, and now it looks like I won't get a chance.
I can't let it end like this.
Time to get serious. I step up, grab her arm, and feel her nails rake my skin as her patience cracks. “Asshole, I told you a million times – stop!”
“They're taking Lizzie away from me if you don't help.”
The fury on her face melts into shock. “Wait, what?”
“It's Wright. Her grandfather, my heartless fuck of a business partner. He's threatening to drive me out of the company, and he'll take my little girl to have his way.” I release her, throwing myself against the khaki colored wall, lowering my eyes. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you from the start. I'm backed into a corner, Kendra. Wouldn't be here otherwise, begging for a damn bone.”
“Jesus, Knox. I had no idea.” Funny how seeing sympathy curdling her expression makes me feel even more like shit. “I still don't follow. Why use Lizzie as leverage? Is he really so psycho?”
“Because it's all he's got on me. She's my weakness. Bastard can't just force me out without a full approval from the board he'll never get. It's in the agreement outlined before dad died. I'm supposed to receive his share of the profits, his stake in the decisions, and someday equal seniority. Last part hasn't happened yet. We've knocked heads for years, but lately, it's claws and teeth. He's done fighting. Asshole's brought out a steel toed boot aimed at my balls.”
It's torture on her face. The truth doesn't ease this tension. Doesn't smooth anything over.
Wish she'd taken the offer. Then I wouldn't have to stand here like a jackass, watching the conflict written all over.
I wanted to get her into this with the carrot, damn it, and not the fucking stick. Not even an emotionally manipulative one.
Sirens pierce the evening traffic, heading this way. Kendra steps up to me, puts her hand out like she wants to touch me, and then thinks better of it. “I'd better get back inside and call off Gannon before he has you arrested. Let me handle that part...and then I'll think about the rest. We'll talk soon.”
Soon? Unless it's in the next five seconds, it isn't quick enough to suck the poison out of me.
Ev
en when I'm trying to do right, keep my little girl, my family intact, I can't stop hurting people.
It's a stake through my heart to see the war on Kendra's face. It's been too many years since I screwed her up so bad. Not since the night I set her up to end her puppy love fixation on me.
I pushed her away for good reason. Because I'm bad, tainted by too many stupid decisions, too many fucked up circumstances. There's only space in my heart for Lizzie, and nobody else. I don't have a universe in my soul to give anymore, just one world, and it's all for my little girl.
Not after Sam's disappearance.
Not after I inherited a fortune with strings attached to a ruthless son of a bitch.
Certainly, not after I reached inside myself, found the little flame I still had lit for that sweet, innocent young thing, and rubbed it out with my boot the worst way I could.
I spend another night wondering if my life caving in is inevitable. It's around noon the next day when I get the call, two soft words whispered with a blush I can sense across the city.
“Sell me,” she says, confusion in her tone. “I want to do this...I want to help...but, Knox, I just don't know.”
“Yeah, you do. If you're trying to make up your mind, it means you're still making this about you and me. That's where you're hung up, and you shouldn't be”
“Well, technically, it kind of is about us.”
“You know what I mean,” I rumble, pushing my mouth closer to the phone. “Victor Wright will take Lizzie away if I don't find a wife. The courts frown on loner dads with my kind of history, and he'll have the lawyers to make the perfect argument. He'd be hell for her to grow up under, too. Bastard shit missed her birthday two years in a row, and I know he'd be all too happy to have her raised by hired help. Just as long as she's away from me.”
“Knox, I know,” she cuts in, oozing sadness. “I've heard plenty from Jamers. He's trouble, and I'll admit the idea of that sweet little girl with him makes me deeply uncomfortable.”
“Help me, then. Please.” My voice is low, more worry than I'd like slipping in. “I need you, Kendra. Only for a few months. Pretend it's real, wear my ring, fool the dogs Victor sends after us, and you'll have my undying thanks along with the expensive, dreamy shit I promised.”
I'm deadly serious.
I'm also not used to weakness. Being vulnerable. Especially not with this woman who's been a ghostly tease since I slammed the door shut in the crudest way possible, five years and counting.
“Fine. I'll do it.” Kendra's voice makes my lips twitch in an attempted smile. “Not for you, Knox. This is for Lizzie. You're a good dad, whatever else you are. She shouldn't go to that man.”
“Glad you came to your senses. I'll be by later to pick you up. Got to move you in quick if we're going to pull this off.”
“Whoa, hold up. I'm old enough to pack my own stuff, thank you very much. I don't need –“
“I'll see you this evening,” I say again. Then I cut the call before she says another word.
It's hell muddling through the next few hours at Black Rhino, pouring over expense reports for accounting, and sketchy background checks on the new guys Victor wants for security and acquisitions.
He's taken a dump on my turf. I despise it, and I can't wait to march my Sunflower in, throw the ring on her hand in his face, and let him know he's no longer got a leg to stand on, legal or otherwise, when it comes to his 'family image' bullshit.
My life is becoming one big picture perfect lie. I've got the luxury house with its well manicured strips of grass and carefully trimmed orange trees. I've got the money – less than I deserve, but plenty nonetheless. I've got the little girl, who I'd surrender everything else for in a heartbeat. And now, I've got the woman who's going to pull my sorry ass out of the fire before it gets singed.
It's like a distorted mirror image of everything I thought I wanted when I was young.
Too bad I don't have time to worry about the morals. Keeping Lizzie safe is at the top and bottom of my To Do list.
I finish my day at the company and blow past Victor's vacant office. The asshole must've left early for the day to hobnob with his rich friends downtown, or maybe an evening trip to Vegas in that black and gold private chopper he flies around, spectacular enough to accommodate a Sheik.
He's only a few tiers wealthier than me, and someday, I'll do him better. But I don't care about his flashy, self-serving crap. I care about bringing him down, and to see it happen, I need the woman holding the keys to his ruin.
It's just past six o'clock and I'm outside her place, fighting every urge to launch my fists at her door. I use the doorbell instead like a civilized person, remembering her folks are so nice they deserve better than my usual.
Her little hand practically jerks the door off its hinges a few seconds later. “That was fast,” she says, shooting me a feisty look as I barge in.
I walk right past her, heading toward the cramped bedroom we made our battleground just days ago. “Jeez, slow down, Knox. I'm almost packed!”
Throwing the door open, I see a mess of sketch books, shoes, and fashion magazines strewn across her bed. “These are coming with, I take it?”
“Duh. Can't exactly do all my work at the studio. I hope there's somewhere in your place I can concentrate when I need to buckle down and –“
“There are six guest rooms. Turn them all into Leonardo's fucking workshop for all I care,” I growl, unfazed when she blinks back surprise. It's easy for her to forget I'm exceedingly rich, successful, and old money by Phoenix standards. “You finish packing the art junk. I'll do your clothes.”
“Hey!” She gets out one word before I snatch the other suitcase off her little desk, and start rifling through her dresser.
She's still glaring as I grab fistfuls of socks, panties, hurling them inside. Her wardrobe is basic. Simple, single-colored cotton bottoms and matching bras. No lace, no frills, not even a pair of fishnets.
Why does that make my dick so hard? I keep my back turned, hiding the wood that's getting more petrified by the second. She's finally gotten over herself by the time I move to the closet, sighing every so often as she gathers her work stuff.
“You'll have to work with me if it's going to work at all, you know.” She gives me the evil eye when I rip three more dresses off their hangers, and stuff them into the bag.
“You're helping me keep my little girl. I'm giving you a shot at life. Don't remember talking etiquette.” I dig deeper, snatching shirts and tank tops, whatever looks casual for lounging around in the stifling summer sun. My hand slides against the top shelf and something drops, bouncing lightly near my foot.
The object is long and solid. Cool to the touch. It only catches the light once before I pick it up, fighting not to grin like an idiot. I stuff it into my pocket without saying anything.
When I've cleared out half her closet, I turn, staring straight through her as she meets my eyes, arms folded. “What? You've got at least ten day's worth here. Anything else you need for a formal occasion, it's coming out of my pocket. Quit worrying.”
“That's not why I'm concerned.”
“Oh? Didn't know your parents were home. You figured out what you're going to tell then when they see you with this rock?” I reach into my pocket, pop the ring box, and walk over. “Need you to start wearing it today, Sunflower. People will talk when the announcement hits the papers and blogs. Legal formality, really, media evidence so Wright can't argue this is a hoax. Sooner you get used to being fake married, the –“
“Better? No way. I didn't agree to be your slave, Knox. Surely, this isn't how you're treating me in front of Lizzie?”
I stare her down long and hard. Don't make another move until she's plucks the ring from its box, pushes it onto her finger, and holds it up to the light. “You never answered my question. I'm trying to do this. I really am.”
“Yeah, and I appreciate it. Forget your folks, on second thought. Tell them whatever the fuck you want. I'm planning o
n telling Lizzie you're staying with us this summer for rent, maybe a little housekeeping.”
She quirks an eyebrow. I don't understand why she looks almost...hurt?
“Really? It's not like we're strangers, Knox. I've practically seen her growing up as much as Jamers did over the years. You won't even tell her we're close friends?”
Hope swells eternal in her throat. I have the black heart to do a lot of things these days, but not make her feel even more like shit than she already does.
“I'll tell her you're help.” Technically, it's the truth. It's everything I can offer without introducing my little girl to a new mother she'll only have for a few months. Sunflower glares anyway, clearly unsatisfied. “That's more than fair, Kendra. What would you have me say? She's four years old. Too young to understand how often we have to get our hands dirty. Too young to remember this, too, once it's over.”
“That's something, I guess.” She turns away, doing a poor job at hiding her hurt. “Lucky her.”
“You ready yet, or what? We'll work on the details later.” Her back is turned and I'm standing there, waiting for her to face me again. She doesn't move.
Fuck.
Suppressing a sigh, I drop the suitcase, gently grabbing her shoulders. “Look, I promise it won't be this hard forever. You'll get good money. Once you're moved in and set, you won't have to see much of me at all. Not outside the mandatory act to keep up appearances.”
“I'm not an actress,” she whips around, green eyes on fire. “I've never been good at lying, Knox, and I think you know it. Why bother with me? Why not get someone else for the job?”
Yes, why? I'm able to seriously contemplate it until I stare into her eyes a second later. Our raw history floods my veins, old impressions carved on my soul.
Because you're the only woman who haunts me. I want to say it, but I don't. Because even after years gone by, even after I've pushed you the fuck away, you're the only girl on the planet I see myself pretending to love.
