Anything You Need (Cataclysm Book 1)
Page 18
His expression softens. “Oh, my sweet girl. I can’t believe you would sacrifice yourself like that on the slim chance of something bad happening to me.” He reaches a hand out, palm up, and I place my hand in his. “Even if Mitchell tried to frame me for something I suspect he’s been doing, I’d survive just fine.” He squeezes my fingers, covering my hand with his other one and giving it a pat. “You leave Mitchell and his so-called proof of fraud to me.”
Letting go of my hand, he stands and straightens his tie and buttons his suit jacket. “Don’t be such a stranger. I miss our talks. Call my secretary and get in my calendar at least once a week for the next month. I know you’re busy helping your mother with her charity dinner, but now that you don’t have a wedding to put off or a fiancé to investigate, I think you’ll find you have a little more free time. Didn’t you have something about a nonprofit you wanted to discuss with me?”
I nod slowly, astonishment dulling my reaction time. “Yeah, I mean yes. I did. Do. Yes. I’d love to come talk to you about that.”
“Good. Next week.” Picking up his glass of scotch, he finishes it in one swallow, looking at the glass. “Call Mitchell and break off your engagement. I don’t want you to spend any more time linked to that sorry excuse of a human being.”
A laugh bubbles out of me, so many feelings running through me that it’s difficult to process them. But the overarching one is that of a weight lifted. Pushing out of the chair, I round the desk and throw my arms around my dad. He rubs my back like he always used to when I was a little girl. “Thank you, Dad,” I mumble against his chest.
“Of course, sweet pea. You’ve obviously internalized the lesson that family is the most important thing. It goes both ways. And I won’t have my little girl sacrificing herself like that for anyone. Not even me. Go end things with Mitchell. And call Marcus. Tell him what happened and make things right.”
Sinking back on my heels and pulling out of our hug, I bite my lip. Dad squeezes my shoulders and says, “Love you,” before turning and opening the door, leaving me standing in his empty office, staring into the hallway.
He makes it sound so easy.
At the very least, ending my engagement with Mitchell will be satisfying. I’m just not sure one little phone call with Marcus will do the trick.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Marcus
“I’m just warning you, I plan on having a drink in my hand all night. I might get a little sloppy.”
Blaire glares up at me, reaching up to straighten my tie and smooth my lapels. “You better not get sloppy. If I see you getting too many refills, I’ll have the bartender cut you off. This is a classy event. We’re already going to get something nasty showing up in the tabloids since you’re taking me as your date.”
I press my lips together, pretending not to know what she’s talking about, looking her over with her demure updo, natural-looking makeup, and smooth navy blue cocktail dress. “You’ll fit in perfectly. You look just like all the country club socialites that’ll be there.” I touch the guitar pendant hanging on a slim chain above the neckline of her dress. “Well, except for this. If you traded it for pearls, though, you’d be a carbon copy.”
She flicks me in the sternum.
“Hey!” I complain.
“That’s not a compliment.”
I grin, rubbing the spot. “You look beautiful, Blaire. And we both know that tabloids print whatever trash they can come up with regardless of the truth. So why bother worrying about it?”
“Right. Exactly.” But her eyes drift away from mine, and her smile looks forced. And who can blame her? Aaron and Mason are congratulated, but she’s painted as a white-trash hooker who’s managed to sink her claws into a successful band.
I wrap an arm around her shoulders and give her a squeeze. “We know the truth. No one works harder than you. We’d be lost without you. No matter what anyone says or what happens, you always have a place here. And if anything bad goes down with the guys, you tell me, and I’ll straighten them out.”
Her smile is still tight, but she meets my eyes before wrapping her slim arm around my waist and returning my side hug. “Thanks, Marcus. I appreciate it.”
Taking in a deep breath, I steel myself to head out. “Alright. Let’s get this over with before I come to my senses. But I expect you to be at my side keeping me safe all night.”
She laughs. “Safe from who?”
“Myself, mostly.”
The ballroom is tastefully decorated with black and silver and music-themed centerpieces on the tables. It’s already full of people, waiters circulating with trays of wine and appetizers. A small stage off to one side with a parquet floor in front of it indicates that they’re planning on dancing later.
If I were here with Kendra, I’m sure I’d get dragged out there for a dance or two, but with Blaire’s hand inside the bend of my elbow, I don’t think that will be necessary. She’s no more comfortable at these high society events than I am.
I spot Kendra almost immediately, holding court near her mother toward the front of the room. Our gazes clash, but I look away.
I might be here because her mother strong-armed me into keeping a promise I made before Kendra kicked me aside. But that doesn’t mean I want to have some awkward reunion. I haven’t seen her since I packed my bags and left her condo over a month ago. And after her engagement announcement came out, Blaire and the guys made sure not to let me see the society pages of any newspaper or website.
In fact, when I tried to torture myself by looking late one night, I discovered that one of them had enabled the parental controls on the router in my apartment, changed the administrator password, and blocked all the gossip sites. And social media. Pretty much the only thing I could still get to was porn.
I couldn’t even be mad at whoever’d done it by the time I discovered that. It was probably for the best in so many ways. My brain took me down memory lane often enough, reliving the best times with Kendra—that first time when she let me be completely in charge, waking up with her snuggled against me, when she kissed me that first time in the coffee shop in front of Mitchell. But that memory inevitably led me to the worst times as well. Specifically when she dumped my sorry ass and went back to her douchebag ex.
It still made no sense to me, but I wasn’t exactly in a position to demand answers. She made it clear that I had no right to demand anything from her anymore.
But somehow, I’m still here, keeping a promise I made to her. Even though we’d promised each other forever—maybe not officially, not with a ring or a wedding, but the words had been said. More than once. And even though she’d promised me that and not kept that promise, I’m still the sucker who keeps my promises to her.
Looking around, I spot the bar off to the side of the dance floor. The line is thankfully short. “C’mon,” I mutter to Blaire. “Time to start drinking.”
She drags her feet. “Seriously, Marcus. I know this is rough, but you can’t get wasted tonight. Sure, have a drink or two, I’m not saying you shouldn’t. But don’t drink a whole case of liquor by yourself.”
Sighing, I keep moving toward the bar. “I won’t. I know. I know my limits, and I know how to act at these kinds of things. But I need something to dull the pain of being here.”
“I know. Trust me, I know.”
That has me stopping to look at her, but her clear brown eyes give nothing away. She nudges me toward the bar again. “Let’s get you the best liquor available, which by the looks of the place, should be pretty good. But you sip it slowly or I’m going to have them water it down, got it?”
A small grin pulling at one side of my face, I move toward the bar again, and this time I don’t have to drag Blaire with me. “Got it.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Kendra
Marcus is avoiding me.
Every time I catch his eye, he quickly looks away. And Blaire never leaves his side, so even if I could get him to look at me for more than half a second, even if
I could get away from the throng of people talking to me, congratulating me on my engagement, and offering condolences when I inform them it’s off, I doubt I’d get to speak to him alone.
I watch him when I get the chance between mingling and smiling and helping my mother hostess a large event. The coordinator is fantastic, my mother’s favorite, but Mom still likes one of us to check in from time to time to make sure everything’s running smoothly.
Tonight is everything she’d hoped it would be. Big name guests, even bigger wallets, lots of money flowing in the form of ticket sales, donations, and silent auction bids, all going to fund music programs for underserved children. The dinner was delicious. The band plays old standards that people want to dance to.
It’s perfect.
Except that Marcus is here with someone else, and it’s all my fault.
It doesn’t even matter that I know he’s not with Blaire, though my inner bitch whispers to me that maybe the rumors are true about the guys in Cataclysm passing her around. Since Marcus is single, he might be in on the rotation now. Like sister-wives, but gender swapped. And not married.
My stomach roils at the thought, and I turn away from where he’s standing on the edge of the crowd, his teeth flashing in a charming smile at another gorgeous woman in a form-fitting dress, her inflated boobs pushed up so high they look like they’ll pop out.
At least Blaire’s still playing guard dog. Right? Right.
But when I chance a glance back, Blaire’s nowhere in sight. And Big Boobs McGee over there is laying a hand on Marcus’s arm, giggling prettily.
The sleek bun on the back of her head would make the perfect handle to grab onto and rip her away …
But I shake that thought off. I can’t cause a scene like that in the middle of the party. There’s still at least an hour before people start leaving. Dinner might be over, but the band’s still playing and the alcohol is still flowing. The silent auction is open for another thirty minutes.
No.
Much as I might want to shove aside the woman flirting with Marcus, it’s not possible.
But apparently my feet didn’t get the memo, because before I know it, I’m sliding up next to him.
For the first time all night, he actually looks at me for longer than the briefest glance. His smile fades, and his eyes harden as he focuses on me over the shoulder of his conversation partner, who turns, eyes wide, to see what’s caught his attention.
When her gaze lands on me, her fingers tighten perceptibly on Marcus’s arm.
He winces, deftly switching his glass to his other hand so he can drop the arm she’s gripping and free himself from her talons. There’s no way she can keep ahold of him without being obvious and creepy.
That doesn’t stop her, though. Instead, she steps closer to his side, practically pressing her boobs against his arm.
A grimace crosses his face, and he subtly leans away from her. If I didn’t know him as well as I do, I might not pick up on his body language.
Staying a few steps back, I paste a smile on my face and look between them. “Hi, Marcus. I haven’t had a chance to talk to you before now. I wanted to thank you so much for coming tonight. We’ve raised so much money because of your ability to draw a crowd. On behalf of my mother and I, and all the children who will benefit from the programs we’re going to be able to fund, thank you so much.” I hold out my hand to shake, and he takes the opportunity to step away from the woman trying so hard to flirt with him. When his palm grazes mine, a tingle goes up my arm, and I suck in a breath.
“You’re welcome.” His voice is husky, his eyes scanning my face, down my body, memorizing me. “You look well.”
“Thank you. So do you.” He releases my hand, and I immediately regret the loss of contact. Suddenly I feel a strange sense of kinship with the other woman, wanting to do anything to keep touching him.
“That’s so kind of you to come over and thank him personally,” she titters. “I mean, you must be so busy since you’re one of the hostesses. I’m sure you have other things to do. Right?”
Brows wrinkled in a frown, Marcus glances down at where she’s glued herself to his side again, her hand creeping under his elbow. “Actually, if you’ll excuse us, Kendra and I need to discuss something. Privately.”
I keep my face bland and nod. “Oh, yes. There’s that other matter we need to talk about. Very important. And private.” I give the woman a look of sympathy. “Sorry. I’m sure he’ll be right back.”
Her ruby red lips purse in distaste as she looks me up and down. “Of course.” Then to Marcus, “You know where to find me when you’re done.” Withdrawing, she gives me another once over and wiggles her fingers at Marcus in a little wave before sashaying to another group of wealthy guests.
Marcus lets out his breath and offers me his elbow. “Come on.”
Placing my hand in the crook of his arm, I dare to question my good fortune. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere private.” The look he gives me isn’t much happier than the ones he’d been casting at the other woman, though. “If we don’t leave, she’ll try to dig her claws into me again. I’m here because I promised you that I would be. The least you can do is rescue me from another woman who told me I was her free pass.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Marcus
I lead Kendra into the hallway halfway between the restrooms and the entrance to the ballroom so Blaire can find me on her way back in. I’m not sure if I want her to rescue me, though. Not yet, anyway.
Draining the rest of my drink, I ensure I have enough liquor in my system to get me through this encounter with Kendra, whatever it may bring.
There’s a grouping of potted plants I make sure is between us and the ballroom door. No need to be obvious to the wannabe groupies in attendance tonight. Letting my empty glass dangle from my fingers, I drop Kendra’s hand from my arm and lean against the wall, my attention focused on the hallway.
In my peripheral vision I watch Kendra fidget with her earring, which annoys me, because it means she’s nervous.
“What?”
My demand comes out gruff and rude, but I can’t help it. She has no reason to be nervous around me, and she should know that.
She shrugs and twists her fingers in front of her.
Then it dawns on me. “Worried your fiancé will find out you ducked out of the party with me?” I wish I hadn’t finished my drink after all, because I could use it right about now.
She grimace, and she holds up her left hand, wiggling her fingers, her bare ring finger dancing in front of her face. “No fiancé.”
“What happened?”
Another shrug, and she looks at the floor, her right hand rising to fiddle with the back of her earring again. “He was blackmailing me. Trying to frame my father for fraud. When Dad reassured me that it was all made up and that Mitchell would be beyond sorry if he ever attempted to turn over fake evidence to anyone, I ended it. I never would’ve gone through with it anyway.”
My eyes are glued to her now, shock ricocheting through my body. “I’m sorry, what?” I shake my head a little, trying to clear it, wondering if maybe I’ve had more to drink than I thought. Did I hallucinate what she just said?
But her clear blue eyes find mine, pain and remorse reflected in their depths. “I’m so sorry, Marcus. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t let him destroy my father, and I didn’t have time to investigate before I had to make a decision.”
“I don’t understand.”
She sighs and looks around, her arms wrapping around herself. “I wanted to call you, to explain everything, but …”
“But what?” My fingers tighten around my empty glass.
She throws her hands in the air. “But I didn’t think you’d take my call, for one. Not after the way I ended things. Suddenly, out of the blue, without a good reason.” She spreads her hands before her like a supplicant. “But I didn’t have a choice.”
“Explain. Tell me now.”
But she didn’t tell me … and that feels like as much of a betrayal as the sudden breakup.
“You owe me that much, Kendra. Tell me.”
She nods, taking a breath. “I will. I want to. I just …” She looks around, seeming to deflate. “I wish we could sit down somewhere and talk. This isn’t ideal.”
I gesture between us with one finger. “Nothing here is ideal anymore. That’s not my fault.”
She flinches at my unspoken jab—that it’s her fault we’re in this mess—but takes a deep breath and steels herself. Then tells me the sordid tale, how Mitchell cornered her at her parents’ house demanding a meeting, how he told her she couldn’t tell anyone or he’d release his so-called evidence, how she spent weeks searching for anything to support his claims, and how her father eventually confronted her about her snooping and dragged the whole story out of her.
My emotions are all over the place. Part of me wants to reach out and comfort her. Tears fill her eyes as she speaks, and she blinks them away, sniffing delicately every so often, dabbing at the inner corners of her eyes with her ring fingers so as not to smudge her makeup. But I don’t. Even without a fiancé in the picture, she tossed me aside and didn’t trust me enough to tell me what was going on.
She made our entire relationship feel like a lie. Like she’d lied to me.
And now I’m not sure what to believe.
When she gets to the end of her story, she sniffs again and falls silent. The sounds of the party are muffled by the wall, occasionally growing louder as the ballroom door opens from time to time, cut off again when it closes. After what feels like a long moment, she widens her eyes. “Aren’t you going to say something?”