Nine Kinds of Naughty

by Jeanette Grey

  “I never made you do anything you didn’t want to do.”

  “You made me need you,” she spat. Because she had never wanted to do that. But here she was. “And now I do. But I need you everywhere. So you walk away, and you walk away from everything.”

  “I need you, too.” His eyes bled sincerity, but she couldn’t look at it. Couldn’t see it without feeling betrayed. “But I need this, too. My whole life, I’ve tried to be what other people want me to be. You lay this line down in the sand, this—this ultimatum. You just become one of them.”

  “What? I become someone who cares about you? Too fucking late.” God, she cared. She cared way, way too much. More than she ever should have let herself. “Or someone who wants you close, or—?”

  His jaw flexed, his eyes shining. “Someone who doesn’t want me for me.”

  A red-hot coal lodged itself in Dane’s throat.

  There were a lot of emotions he knew. Frustration and stagnation and a bone-deep weariness that never seemed to get better no matter how well he slept.

  But this was new. He’d always prided himself on not getting angry. He was the kind of man who shook it off and rose above it, but right now . . .

  Right now, he was livid.

  Lexie wasn’t listening to a word he was saying. She’d fixated on some idea she had that he was abandoning her when that was the last thing on his mind. She’d gone ahead and made this fucking nonsense ultimatum. So—what? He had to work at Bellamy for the rest of his goddamn life or they were over?

  That wasn’t love. There was nothing unconditional about that, nothing he wanted from a woman who would demand it of him.

  It was like he was looking at a stranger.

  His blood ran icy cold. He’d given her pleasure. He’d brought her out of herself and shown her how to let go a little. He’d tried to be a rock through her brother’s injury and her setback at work, and she’d taken it all gleefully.

  But what had she ever given him?

  All of a sudden, he felt dirty. Used. She’d taken and taken, and he’d mistaken the glimpses she’d given him of who she might be beneath her corporate exterior for—what? Love? He hadn’t hidden who he was from her for a minute. He’d opened up about his brother and his mother and his life, but she’d never seen the obvious truth he was only just awakening to himself. She saw only the guy who could help her. And now she was refusing to help him.

  He turned on his heel. She’d thrown most of his shit into his suitcase for him already. There were still some things he’d left in the bathroom, but he could buy another razor anywhere. Flipping the top of the suitcase closed, he tugged at the zip—too hard, and the fucking thing ripped off in his hand, but he didn’t care. He yanked at the other end until he had it closed. Grasping the handle, he jerked the suitcase upright and turned.

  Only to meet wide, blue eyes, gone bright with fear and hurt. It wasn’t the sadist in him that took some satisfaction from that.

  Flaring his nostrils and working his jaw, he shook his head at her. “I would have done anything for you. Stood by you in any way.” He cut her off when she made as if to open her mouth. “All you had to do was even pretend to do the same for me. I need one thing. One thing, and it’s out of that fucking rattrap of a life. But you don’t care.”

  Her lips parted again, and he held out his hand, wanting to scream at her to stop.

  “It’s your life,” he said. “And that’s fine. You swim in that water and gobble up everything in your wake, but I was drowning. I would have done anything for you.” The truth of it rocked him to his core. Anything. “But I won’t go under. I won’t sink.”

  He wouldn’t let her push him down.

  His legs were numb, but they obeyed his command to stride forward. He made it all the way to the hall, until he was standing right in front of the mirror where he’d taken her to pieces yesterday. Where he’d made her watch her own submission—her own pleasure. He’d hoped that she’d watch his as well, and see what she meant to him. The fire that lit him from within when he was standing over her. The one she was now trying so hard to put out.

  Their reflections stared back at him through the glass now, too, but with everything reversed. Him in front, watching himself be cut in two while she looked on from behind. Both of them clothed, all their defenses up.

  And this was cruel, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

  “You know, I almost felt sorry for you.” His lungs burned. “Everybody leaving you.” He’d thought her ex was such an asshole for it, for making her face that fucking wolf’s den all on her own. But now . . . “Now I think you pushed them away.” He snapped his jaw shut, but it couldn’t stop the poison sliding down his throat. “Tell that to the next sucker you try to trap.”

  Her face cracked, and for a second his resolve almost did, too. Beneath the hard-ass ladder climber, he’d found a strong, amazing woman. He’d wanted to know her in every way possible—spend his life with her, even.

  But apparently she didn’t want to know him. Not the real him. The flicker of devastation that had marred her expression disappeared in an instant, and the hard set of her mouth was all he needed to see.

  Gritting his teeth, he turned away. The sudden flare of anger was the fire in his belly.

  And it was all the resolve he needed to get him out her door.

  chapter THIRTY

  Lexie’s hand shook only a little as she capped the wand of her mascara. She placed the tube in her makeup bag and inspected the job she’d done.

  “Shit.”

  Apparently there were some sleepless, tear-soaked nights even the best concealer and foundation couldn’t erase.

  She forced her gaze to the ceiling, blinking fast. Just thinking about it had her ready with the goddamn waterworks all over again.

  “No.” She smacked her hands down on the edges of the vanity. Meeting her own gaze in the mirror, she forced out a long, slow breath. “You’re fine. You can do this.” Her voice wavered. “You’ve done this tons of times before.”

  The truth of it made her insides cold. Putting on a brave face was second nature. She’d done it at her father’s trial and at all those board meetings after Rylan flew the coop. She’d done it the day after Jordan had left her high and dry, alone in a sea of hostile faces.

  Every time someone had left her.

  Every time she had pushed them away.

  Dane’s final, sneering words floated back to her, and she had to swallow down the taste of bile. It wasn’t easy for her to open up to people, but when she’d told him about being left behind, he’d held her close and made her feel so safe.

  She should have known he’d eventually decide to throw it in her face.

  Ugh. After one last check of her teeth for lipstick, she turned around and made a beeline for her things. She couldn’t spend a minute longer in this empty room, remembering what that man had said on his way out the door. Smelling him on the sheets and staring at the places where his watch and clothes and shoes had been.

  Reliving the moments when she’d imagined things could be different. They couldn’t. He’d never been planning to rule the company at her side, to support her in the office and at home. Maybe he couldn’t stand to be her subordinate after all.

  She shook her head at herself as she grabbed her purse. It didn’t matter anymore. His vision of their future hadn’t been the same as hers, and that was fine. Better to find out now than to have let it drag on for months, giving her time to really get attached.

  A pang of guilt echoed behind her ribs as she checked the room had locked behind her. He’d accused her of not accepting him for who he really was, but how could she have, when he had never told her? Sure, she’d known his job wasn’t his passion, but his decision to leave had come out of nowhere. Its impact had left her black and blue.

  His disdain for her company. For her life.

  Well, she was going to carry on with both.

  The car she’d hired for the rest of the trip was waiting outside b
y the time she got downstairs. She slipped on a pair of thick, oversized sunglasses before getting in. The dark tinting made the world a little easier to take as she stared out through the windows and watched the city streets go by. She kept them on when she got to the hospital, striding with purpose down the hall.

  Evan took exactly one look at her, and the jig was up.

  “What happened?”

  She hurried past his bed, not making eye contact and sure as hell not removing the glasses. She set her bag down beside the chair where she usually sat and didn’t look at the empty one beside it. “Nothing.”

  “Yeah, right.” Evan pushed a button to raise the head of his bed and clicked off the TV. “Where’s tall, dark, and broody?”

  He always had been too damn perceptive.

  She huffed. “Like you’re one to talk.” No one could brood like her brother could.

  “You’re not answering my question.”

  “He had to fly back to New York. Work thing.” A quitting work thing. It wasn’t technically a lie.

  Warning colored his tone. “Lexie . . .”

  “Look, it doesn’t matter. He’s gone, end of.” Still not looking at him, she strode toward the foot of his bed and grabbed his chart to sneak a peek.

  The last thing she expected was a hand wrapping around her wrist.

  She jerked her head up to find Evan sitting straight for the first time in days, his knees swung over the edge of the bed as he reached for her. He was breathing hard, face flushed and mouth pinched with pain, but he was there.

  Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away.

  “Lexie,” Evan said again. “What’s going on?”

  She couldn’t stop the sniffle. “Nothing. He left.”

  Dane had left her. She was alone again.

  But maybe not all alone. Evan squeezed her arm, gaze entirely too understanding. “He left, or he left?”

  “Both.”

  She’d barely gotten the word out before Evan tugged her down. He got her sitting on the edge of the bed beside him, curling his good arm around her and hugging her close.

  For a minute, the awful, pathetic tears she’d been trying so hard to hold back won out. She gave a hard, shuddering sob against his shoulder. He held her tight, murmuring quiet assurances, and it didn’t make it better. But maybe it helped. Just a little.

  The hysterics didn’t last long. Already, this was more than anybody in this family really showed anybody else. She pulled away enough to sneak her hand behind her glasses and swipe roughly at her eyes. Hiding the last of the tears behind a laugh, she mock-pushed him away. “Ugh, you reek.”

  “Whatever. Chicks dig my man musk.”

  She wrinkled her nose. He really did need a shower. More importantly . . . “I really don’t want to know what the chicks dig about you.”

  “Just as well, since it’s pretty much everything.” The bravado to his tone faded, his smile slipping. “Really, though. You okay?”

  “I will be.” She shifted to put some space between them. “I’m not the one in the hospital, though. How are you?”

  “Better.”

  You’d hardly know it from the way he winced as he lay back down. Humming, she nodded, glancing at the chart still in her hand. Her eyebrows rose. “Wow, you really are feeling better. They’re suggesting letting you go?”

  “Tomorrow, if everything looks good.”

  “That’s great.”

  And it was its whole new can of worms. He was on the mend, sure, but the next few months weren’t going to be easy for him. Technically, she could stay here in San Francisco and work remotely as long as she needed to, but her life wasn’t here.

  Maybe it was just the twitch of tears still lingering in her eyes, but all at once, she was so homesick she could cry. New York, her apartment, her office . . . She’d been away for weeks now, and that entire time, she’d been with Dane. His absence would be a gaping hole around the office, but she could work around it. She could get back to her life.

  She glanced at Evan.

  She could kill two birds with one stone.

  “Listen,” she said, suddenly fervent. She scooted up the bed enough to take her brother’s hand. “When they let you go . . . this is just a thought . . . but what do you think about coming back with me to New York?”

  His whole face scrunched up. “Seriously?”

  As the idea took hold, she liked it more and more. “Why not? We have doctors there. We’ll get a chartered plane, you can stay at my place. All the resources you need, and I can help you out when we’re at home.”

  “I can’t. School—”

  “We’ll get you a withdrawal for the semester. If you want. I mean . . .” Shit, what was a nice way to say this? She softened her voice the best she could. “You’re going to need to recover anyway. This semester . . .”

  He met her gaze with a frown. “Is basically fucked anyway. That’s what you’re saying?”

  “Not in those exact words.” She winced. “Just . . .”

  Now she’d gotten this in her head, she was desperate for him to say yes. But a nudge in the back of her mind told her to ease off. She pushed so hard sometimes.

  She pushed people right out of her life.

  “I mean,” she said, fighting past the tightness in her throat. “Just think about it, okay? You’ve got a little time to decide. If you want to stay here, maybe there’s a friend who can stay with you until you’re back on your feet. Or we can hire a nurse. But I can’t stay forever, and . . .” She swallowed hard. She could do this. Put herself out there. “I’d like it, if you came with me. A lot.”

  She’d like the company. She’d like having her family all together for once.

  She squeezed his hand. “Just . . . consider it.”

  Letting go, she took a deep breath. After replacing his chart, she retreated to her chair on the other side of the room. She’d made her case, and she hadn’t been insane about it. She was giving him a choice.

  A desperation lodged in her chest, though. She really, really wanted him to say yes.

  Refusing to get her hopes up, she took her time unpacking her work stuff. She’d barely gotten her laptop open when Evan said her name.

  “Yes?” Her head whipped around too fast.

  “Going back to New York with you?”

  Her heart leapt into her throat. “Yeah?”

  Something dark clung to his eyes. Some pain near the lines of his mouth. When he forced a hint of a smile, they retreated by a fraction, but they didn’t disappear.

  Still, he said, “I think I’d like that, too.”

  The devil cat was not Dane’s friend today. He barely made it in the door of his mother’s apartment before the thing was climbing his leg, nails digging in. He cursed out loud as he bent to detach her, only to get an angry slash of claws against his arm.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, picking her up gingerly and setting her down in her spot on the back of the couch. “That seems to be a popular opinion these days.”

  The gouges Lexie had left in him would take longer to heal. And if he knew his mother, he wasn’t going to get out of this conversation without her drawing blood.

  “Dane? Is that you?”

  Time to face the music.

  With one last warning wag of his finger in the cat’s direction, he turned to find his mom standing by the door to the kitchen. She blinked at him owlishly, still in her bathrobe, her hair and makeup undone. It threw him for a second. Fuck, he didn’t even know what time it was. He’d managed to hop a red-eye home last night. He’d stopped at his apartment only long enough to set his suitcase down and wash the stale scent of airports from his skin, and then he’d been tearing through Queens to get here. Before he lost his nerve.

  Only . . .

  His mom looked so soft, staring at him like that. So defenseless. She’d already had her heart broken enough. He’d had his heart broken enough.

  But here he was. And there were things he couldn’t keep in any long
er.

  “Dane, sweetheart. You didn’t tell me you were back in town.”

  He snapped out of his daze. “Just got back.”

  A sly smile curled her mouth. “And the first thing you do is race to see your mother.”

  “Pretty much.”

  Shaking her head at him, she turned toward the kitchen. “I was just fixing breakfast. You want some?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Stepping past her, he headed straight for the coffeepot. He’d dozed a little on the plane, but not much. Not with this adrenaline running through his veins, with Lexie’s bullshit in his head.

  He was still mad enough to spit, or to . . . to . . . punch something. Gripping the handle of his mug too tight, he clenched his eyes shut for a second. Doing this now, without a real night’s sleep, with everything so fresh—it was a bad idea. He should put it off.

  Go with the flow. Let everybody think he was happy when he was dying inside, just like he had these last however many years—

  “Dane? Dane.”

  He popped his eyes open.

  His mom was looking at him with concern on her face. “Are you all right?”

  No. Not even close.

  “Fine,” he lied. “Just tired. Red-eye flight.”

  “Oh, those are the worst. Whenever we’d fly you boys out here to visit my folks, you’d always be in such a state.”

  You boys. Him and Jake.

  “Yeah. I remember.”

  His mother paused, her gaze wary as she took him in. He fought to school his expression, but he was too raw.

  After a second, she overlooked it, though. “Be a dear and grab the eggs out of the fridge?”

  He almost balked. Eggs and bacon weren’t what he’d come here for, and she was doing that thing again. Pretending everything was fine when he was held together with spit and glue in front of her, worn ragged and so damn exhausted . . .

  “Sure.” With a tight smile, he got the carton out.

  They fell into the easy rhythm they’d established over a lifetime. She cooked and rambled, and he got things out and then put away. When the food was close to ready, he grabbed the plates, and she served up. He took them to the tiny little table in the corner—the one with only two chairs.