Resentment bleeds from her features and I don't blame her one bit. Her parents squandered what could have been a promising future.
Now, it all makes sense to me. I understand why she fought so hard to save Renewed Gowns, why she was willing to do anything to save her fellow business owners around town, why she was willing to marry the complete stranger who posed a threat to her little world.
I feel like such an asshole.
She goes back to biting her nail. "We had this neighbor a few trailers down from us. Mrs. Tremblay. She was a sassy old thing who was a hoarder like nobody's business. But she was kind. She took me under her wing. She taught me to sew. And right before she got moved into a nursing home, she handed me a big, fat envelop stuffed with crumpled five-dollar bills. I used it to get out of Cowersville and open my shop."
This bath is supposed to be relaxing but I watch as the tension in her shoulders increases with each word. My fingers move down to her shoulders, slicking across her smooth skin.
"That's why I hustle so hard when it comes to my business. I'm dead-set on not making the mistakes my parents did. I want to make sure that when I have my own family, they'll be secure."
I almost blurt out that I've got it covered, that she won't have to worry about providing for her family because it's a family we'll create together and I’ve got a fuck-ton of money and I’ll be there right by her side.
But saying that would be insane. Stormy is just my temporary wife and we both know it.
"I had to do better for Jessa and me. We couldn't stay in that toxic environment. That's why we left. That's why we never looked back. It's not that I don't love my parents." Guilt bleeds from her words and I sense her overwhelming need to explain herself, to prove to me that she's a good person. Not that I'm doubting her. "But they fucked up. I just resent them so much for the mistakes they made."
I wrap her up and rest my chin on her shoulder. My blood boils just beneath the surface. I'm pissed that the adults in her life didn't look out for her.
"They're just in denial about everything. They have issues but neither of my parents will address it. This is why I stay away from them. They're a mess and they won't let me help in any meaningful way that counts. All they do is ask me for money." Shampoo suds dripping down her face, she scrunches up her nose and speaks quietly. "You think I'm a loser, don't you? I'm all fucked up."
"What?" I say in response to the guilty expression on her face. Shock takes hold of my system. How could this incredible woman doubt her worth?
She whispers. "I don't deserve a guy like you."
I make a silent pledge to her, right there and right then. I will never be the one to make her feel like that again.
I trace an invisible line down the bridge of her nose and over the swell of her lips. "Don't you ever fucking say that, Alexia. You're a Kingston now. You're my wife. You deserve the whole damn world." And I'll make sure you get it.
Then, I kiss her. Hard.
40
Lexi
A loud screech jolts me out of a dream on Sunday morning. I lay there, a little bleary-eyed, until I recognize the sound. A child. A child yelling and squealing at the top of their lungs.
Cannon didn’t mention that we were having company, so I quickly throw on some clothes and tiptoe downstairs. If I’m going to be murdered today by a tiny person, it seems important that it doesn’t happen when I’m half-naked.
When I approach the living room, I hear more voices. Then I catch sight of Cannon on his knees in front of the couch, throwing blown-up balloons in the air. His niece is there catching them. And squealing. Cannon’s parents are here, too, watching the commotion.
I move to stand next to them by the fireplace, reaching down to hug Mrs. Kingston. I smile, enjoying the scene of my fake husband playing with a kid. Last time I checked, Callie wasn't Uncle Cannon's biggest fan but maybe she's warming up to him now.
The sight of them together has thoughts running through my traitorous brain that have no business being there. Like…would Cannon Kingston be a good father? Does he actually like kids?
I round the couch to get in on the balloon-throwing fun. That’s when I get a better view of the little girl. I can’t help but gasp out loud.
The poor child has absolutely no eyebrows.
Like, none at all.
Just gorgeous bright eyes, wispy eyelashes, and then…forehead.
Diana laughs at my reaction. She comes over and lays a hand on my arm. “She got her hands on Lucas’s electric shaver this morning and gave herself a bit of a makeover. I nearly had a heart attack when she ran out of the bathroom.”
“Wow,” I say on an exhale.
Kids are terrifying creatures. And suddenly, I want a whole batch of them with Cannon.
“I’m just relieved I found her before she shaved off a patch of that glorious Kingston hair!” The woman tenderly strokes her grandchild's blond ringlets.
Mr. Kingston laughs and drapes an arm around his wife's shoulder. “I think she's pulling off the new look pretty well. Right, Princess Callie?”
The little girl beams at her grandfather and nods. "'Yes, Papa!"
Cannon plops down on the couch and hauls her into his lap. “This kid is Eli, two-point-oh. Remember that time Walker fell asleep in the toolshed and Eli got his hands on a pair of old garden pruners? Let's just say it took a few weeks for my oldest brother to grow into his free haircut..."
The family laughs at the shared memory and their closeness warms me to the tips of my toes. I want to be in on their inside jokes, I want to make memories with them, too.
...Also, I make a mental note to hide all cutting devices around the Kingston family. They're a wild bunch, and this darling girl is the biggest handful of all.
Cannon hooks an arm around my leg, causing me to collapse onto the couch next to him. My heart thuds when our eyes meet. “We’re going to babysit today,” he announces, looking straight at me to gauge my reaction.
“Oh! Okay, that sounds...lovely,” I respond, hoping I’ve covered up my initial fumbling shock.
“I think my parents are overdue for a day off and could use some alone time together." He jerks his eyebrows suggestively. “It’s important, y'know?”
Cannon's parents eye me. Or rather, I catch them looking at my hair. My cheeks heat up. I totally forgot to look in the mirror on my way down. I can only imagine how bad my bedhead is right now.
When Mr. and Mrs. Kingston share a knowing grin, they confirm it.
I really need to get my priorities straight. Apparently, it's important to me to be dressed if I’m going to be murdered by home invaders, but I didn't consider actually making myself presentable.
Next time, I need to put more thought into that. I can’t expect a funeral home to detangle my hair, can I?
“Young, in love, and up all night, huh? I sure remember those days,” Diana comments. Her husband elbows her playfully in the ribs.
Cannon drapes an arm around my shoulder and squeezes me to his side. “Hey now. Don’t make my new bride blush.”
I can actually feel the redness climb to my ears. Lord. Is anything sacred in this family?
A doubtful look comes over Mrs. Kingston's face. “I don’t feel right about dumping a child on you both so soon after your wedding," she hedges. "You should be enjoying as much alone time as you can get right now.”
I stand and grab my mother-in-law’s hands. “Truly, it’s no problem at all, Diana. It’ll be fun, right?” I smile, looking at Callie.
"Yeeesss!" She's currently using the couch as her personal trampoline.
“Oh, okay,” Cannon's mom concedes. “If you're sure it's all right with you. But you two will be going on a honeymoon soon, right?”
A honeymoon?
I have to admit that I've been imagining a honeymoon. A little getaway to somewhere tropical where we could sit in a cabana by the ocean and Cannon would eat mangoes and pineapples out of my cleavage. If this were a normal marriage, we would have exchanged vows
and then immediately whisked away on a romantic vacation for two. But everything about this relationship has been far from conventional. Is it wrong that part of me is holding onto wishes for that kind of normalcy with him?
Cannon avoids my eyes and shoots out the vaguest answer ever. “In time.”
My hopeful heart sinks. Just another reminder that our time together has a looming expiration date.
His parents don't pick up on the tension.
“Okay love birds, let me know what you decide. I’m happy to help with the arrangements.” His mother smiles.
Hugs are exchanged, and we stand together at the door waving them off as the car drives away.
I feel a tug on my leg. When I look down, Callie grins up at me.
Now, how to keep an eyebrowless four-year-old entertained?
41
Cannon
My mother left us with enough lasagna to feed an army, so after watching cartoons and chasing balloons all morning, the three of us enjoy lunch together.
Lexi flutters around my kitchen, warming everything up. She brings our plates into the dining room, serving Callie and me. Just when I think she’s going to join us, she rushes back to grab a glass of juice for each of us.
“Can you handle a big girl glass?” Lexi asks the little girl, setting a tumbler in front of her. “Your Uncle Cannon doesn’t have any kid cups for us.” She gives me a mock glare. Callie joins in because she's a hater like that.
I can't help but chuckle.
My wife looks at me with twinkling eyes. "Can I get you guys anything else?" she asks, tenderness in her movements as she strokes my niece's curly blonde head.
"Good grief, woman. You can just sit and eat with us,” I demand with a half-smile.
Lexi grins back at me as she drops into her seat, and it stirs something deep inside me. I’ve never seen a woman with a more genuine smile. When she looks at me like that, I nearly forget everything shitty in my life. She’s this bright, shiny object that I just want to cling to for dear life. There's no way I'm letting her go.
This wasn't part of the plan. But who fucking cares? She's my wife. The woman who screamed my name last night. The woman I left blissfully-satisfied in my bed this morning.
I'm going to keep her. Even though she doesn't know it yet.
Now that I've had a taste of the real thing, there's no way I'm going back to settling for the kind of woman who pretended to love me in exchange for the benefits that come with being the trophy on a billionaire's arm.
I need to tell her that Kingston Realties is mine. But before I do that, I need to make sure she knows she's mine, too.
Lexi notices Callie just sitting there staring at her plate, not eating. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“Grandma cuts it up for me.”
“Oh, of course she does.” My wife hops up, not hesitating to help her out as she kneels on the floor. “What about the bread? Does she cut that too?” Lexi asks with exaggerated, wide eyes.
The little girl giggles at her. “No. That’s silly. You just bite it.” Then she demonstrates by taking a huge, unlady-like bite out of her garlic bread.
“You’re right. Silly me.” Lexi chides herself, shaking her head. It’s obvious she’s doing all this just to make the child feel more comfortable. It means a lot, considering my niece’s quiet reserve around me.
In recent years, I haven't always been present for my loved ones. But after hearing about Stormy's fucked up childhood, it's suddenly really important to me to improve my relationship with my family. It’s not something I’ve talked about with her, but in all the little things she does, it feels like she already knows.
And I want her to feel included. She couldn't form a bond with her own family? Fuck 'em. She can have a place in mine.
I continue to sneak glances at my wife throughout the meal. I’m not sure I could explain it even if I tried, but hanging out with her in this way just feels...right. I like the way she interacts with my family. I like the way she makes me feel.
It’s all…It’s different for me.
I’ve never invested emotionally into a relationship. Not even with Margot. That kind of investment always seemed too high-risk. But Alexia is stirring something inside me. Like I’m trying a rare delicacy for the first time, surprised to discover exactly how delicious it really is.
I’m nearly finished with my lunch when my cell phone rings in my pocket. Sliding it out, I see that it’s Frank.
“I’ve got to take this. Are you guys good here?” I’m already rising from the table when Alexia nods and tells me to go ahead.
“Frank, what do you have?” I answer, striding down the hallway to take the call in my office.
Things have stalled on my revenge plans over the past few weeks while we focused on organizing the wedding and the business arrangements. And that fight with Lexi had me out of commission for days. I need to get things back on track, I guess. But to be honest, my appetite for blood isn't as voracious as it was when I just showed up in town.
Frank spends the next ten minutes explaining to me that, again, he’s been hitting some dead ends in his execution of my request.
“I don’t understand. I thought I handed you airtight instructions here. I wanted this done weeks ago.”
“I know, but I’m still bound to work within the limits of the law, Cannon. And I would advise you to do the same. What you’ve proposed in the latest workup was not ethical. Or legal.”
My palm slams down onto my desk and I growl into the phone.
Dammit!
I take three steps forward, and then get shoved two back. It's frustrating.
The sounds of Alexia and Callie laughing in the kitchen make their way into my office. I feel a pang knowing that I'm missing out on whatever fun they're having together. I'd rather be with them instead of stuck in here dealing with this bullshit.
"Do whatever you've got to do, Frank."
It's getting to the point where I'm about ready to drop the whole revenge thing and move on with my damn life.
Callie's innocent laughter floats up to my office. Warmth surges through the beating lump of muscle in my chest. Thinking back to Alexia's traumatic upbringing, it feels wrong that I'm not doing everything in my power to give my niece the sort of childhood she deserves.
"Also, I need you to redirect some of your resources," I tell Frank.
"Oh?" I can almost hear the man's bushy brow jut up.
"I need you to find a way to get my brother out of jail."
42
Lexi
Cannon’s niece and I finish up lunch on our own, and she keeps me quite entertained. If I’ve learned anything about four-year-olds today, it’s that they are brutally—and innocently—honest. Sometimes it makes me want to hug her. Other times, I think she’s been invaded by tiny jerkface aliens.
“You’re really pretty.”
“It smells funny in here.”
“Your fingers are too long.”
“There’s food in your teeth.”
And on that note, we move our party into the master bathroom upstairs to wash up. And, she’s one-hundred percent right, I do have parsley in my teeth. I thank her for sparing me further embarrassment there. Better to hear it from her than from Cannon, right?
She eyes me carefully when I apply a fresh layer of a nude lipstick. Even though I’m not working today, I have this urge to look my best around Cannon. I want him to be attracted to me, but I’m not going to analyze that too deeply. Ignoring these feelings seems like the smarter decision.
“Can I do makeup?” she asks sweetly. I’m starting to get used to looking at her without eyebrows. Maybe I could actually draw some on her. I’ve seen the way her uncle fights back a laugh each time he’s caught off guard by the sight of her. A little eyebrow therapy could certainly help with that. I think.
“Okay, hop up here,” I say, as I lift her to the counter top. “Sit still, and I’ll do your makeup. Just a little though, so we don’t get in trouble.”
“Then I do yours?” She bats her blonde lashes at me. Man, Cannon’s right. She’s good. I can’t tell her no. The poor girl doesn’t even have a mother to do these sorts of things with. Thank goodness she’s living with her grandparents though. I know Mrs. Kingston is great with her.
“Absolutely,” I promise.
I draw on an excellent pair of new brows, dab a bit of color on her cheeks, and add some pale pink lipstick to her lips. She lights up when I hand her a hand mirror, remarking on her own beauty. She really is adorable.
Then she turns the tables on me, making me sit on the floor while she works her magic on my face. When she rubs lipstick on my eyelids, I decide I’m too terrified to see the finished product. Callie chews on her bottom lip, pure concentration eating up her expression. She designs my new look, taking twice the time I did on hers.
When she eventually begins singing the alphabet, I hum along with her. She’s smart and so confident, though she somehow squeezes two S’s into her lineup.
My face is downright atrocious, and I just pray that Cannon doesn’t walk into the room anytime soon. There’s lipstick on my eyelids, cheek, and lips, of course. There are several uneven lines drawn on my forehead with my eyeliner pencil. Thank god she didn’t grab the waterproof liner.
I catch her yawning, so I put her down for a nap in one of the upstairs guest rooms. As I tuck her in, she begs for me to sing.
I have to struggle not to make an ugly face. “I’m a horrible singer. Really horrible,” I explain. “I don’t think you want to hear me sing.”
Mister Billions: A Small Town Enemies-to-Lovers Fake Marriage Billionaire Romance (Bad Boys in Love Book 1) Page 19
