by Monica James
“What do you want?” I snarl, so done with his games.
He measures his words as it appears he’s got it all mapped out. “All I’m asking is that you attend a few events with me and pretend we are still engaged. The media love you, and it’ll help boost my reputation now that I’m VP. I can’t go alone. That’s not a good look. People will talk and think if I can’t manage a simple thing such as a relationship, how am I supposed to manage a billion-dollar company.”
“No, no fucking way,” I cry, jaw clenched. He has clearly gone insane.
“You will say yes,” he counters coolly, which just pisses me off more.
“No, I will not,” I oppose, pushing off the desk, so ready to throw him out. But I am stopped dead in my tracks as the walls begin closing in on me.
Lincoln comes to a slow stand. “If you don’t…I think it’s time I got to know my daughter.”
“Wh-what?” I gasp, my bravado crumbling into a heap.
“You heard me. It’s a simple trade, Holland. You pretend, and I’ll do the same. I’ll pretend she doesn’t exist, and you can continue playing happy family,” he says nonchalantly, referring to Emily as though she is nothing but chattel.
My gut feelings were right. I wish they weren’t, but I knew he would eventually use her for his own personal gain. It shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. How can he be so cruel?
He digs his hands into his pockets, shrugging as though this is a no-brainer. “I’m not asking for much. As I see it, out of the two of us, you come out of this better.”
“Why?” I ask, unable to vocalize more than this right now.
“Because you’re hot shit, baby. After the Rossi case, your reputation is unrivaled. Having you with me will impress the investors and bigwigs and help me establish myself in this dog-eat-dog world.”
“I worked my ass off to get where I am,” I declare, not appreciating him insinuating I got where I am on sheer luck.
“I know, which is why I need you to play happy family with me. You do so, and I’ll let you do the same.”
I need a minute. Or two.
What he’s proposing is deplorable and dishonest, but is this my get out of jail for free card?
“Think about it,” he says, rounding the desk with a predator’s pace. “We both get what we want. All you have to do is attend a few dinners, be seen in public with me until this VP stuff blows over and I’ve established myself, and in return…I will promise to leave your little family alone.”
“Your word means nothing,” I spit, standing my ground as he comes closer and closer. “You’re blackmailing me.”
“Blackmail is such an ugly word. Why can’t we just say we’ve negotiated a compromise where we both win.”
Hook, line, and sinker.
All along, I knew it would come to this. It sickens me to my core, but I can see when I’m about to lose a case. Like now.
Let my demise commence… “I want it in writing. If I do this, there has to be legal standings in place.”
He smirks, reeking of success as he stops advancing toward me. “But of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Ensuring my voice doesn’t betray my nerves, I state, “I, I want you to sign over all custodial rights to London. You will not come anywhere near Emily. She will not know you exist. When she’s older, if she decides to seek you out, then that is her choice. But until then, you will be a shadow.”
He gestures for me to continue.
“Once this is done, you will disappear from our lives.”
He purses his lips, appearing to weigh my demands. “Fine.”
My heart thrashes wildly, but I can’t show weakness. If he smells blood, he will circle me like a shark circles its prey.
“I have a few stipulations of my own.” I knew there would be. “You’ll sign an NDA. You will not tell anyone of our agreement or why our engagement ended. When it eventually comes out, you will remain tight-lipped. You will not speak to the press, my bosses, my peers, my friends. No one knows about this. To the outside world, we ended things because we grew apart. You will not badmouth me or sabotage me in any way. No one will know. We clear?”
Lincoln knows me far better than I thought he did. Once this was over with, I was planning to divulge what a sadistic psychopath he truly is to the masses. Nothing is more important to Lincoln than his precious reputation.
“Very,” I hiss, glaring something wicked.
He seems pleased as though we just negotiated a business deal. And in some ways, I suppose we did. “I’ll trust you to write up all the conditions. Email it when you’re done. When I’m happy, I’ll sign. As will you.”
I’ve sacrificed a small part of my soul, but I’ve won in the end. Emily will never have to know the true villain her father is. But regardless, I need to know how he could give her up so easily. “You’d really give up all rights to your only child? You’re more of a monster than I thought you were.”
Lincoln shrugs, unaffected. “I didn’t work this hard to ruin my life by raising a bastard child.”
Tears sting my eyes. It wasn’t London’s choice, but he did the right thing. As I see it, I’m doing Emily a favor by saving her the heartache of knowing her biological dad is the fucking devil.
“Fine, whatever. Get out,” I calmly state, folding my arms.
He laughs, clearly amused, but we will see who’s laughing when I throw this stapler at his head. My threat isn’t empty, and he knows it when he buttons up his jacket. “I’ll speak to you soon.”
His singsong tone has me gritting my teeth, and I want to throw as many obscenities as I can. But I don’t. This is what I wanted, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s a catch—there’s always a catch when it comes to men like Lincoln.
He turns his back, walking toward the door. I exhale, but it’s in vain.
“Oh, and Holland…?”
I wait with bated breath.
“When I say no one, I mean no one.”
“What?” I question, horror-stricken, as there is no way he’s saying what I think he is.
“If anyone finds out about our agreement, the deal is off.” That smug, sneaky asshole.
“You, you can’t expect me to lie to London,” I gasp, fumbling over my words. “He will see us together. He will think it’s real. He’ll think we’re a couple.”
Even with his back turned, his victorious grin blinds me. “Just like old times then. You should be used to pretending.”
A single tear scorches my skin. I was stupid to think this was going to be easy.
“Go fuck yourself,” I say, but it’s lacking bite and heavy with anguish. He chuckles in response because truth be told, he just fucked me.
The door closes, announcing Lincoln’s departure.
I stare at the doorway for minutes in a daze. This really happened. Lincoln agreed to sign over all custodial rights to London and stay out of Emily’s life for good, but in return, I have to sleep with the enemy.
My stomach roils, and nausea sets in.
There is no way I can lie to London. This will break his heart. But so will Lincoln taking Emily away to spite him. I run my hand down my face, and it comes away wet with angry tears. This is what happens when you do business with the devil.
Welcome to my hell.
I ache.
Not just physically but emotionally as well.
After last night, I’ve continued to work in a somewhat daze, unbelieving this is happening. This is everything I thought I wanted. But it comes at what price?
I can’t lie to London. There is no coming back from this. If he sees Lincoln and me together, and I’m wearing that ring, he will never forgive me. Even if my intentions are good, it will be history repeating itself.
But if I don’t do this, Lincoln will make sure to hurt London in another way. He will take Emily away from him because as unfair as it is, he is her biological father. Exceptions can be made, but I know the law. London is at a disadvantage, no matter how much it sucks.
I’ve been going around and around in circles, attempting to strategize ways to have this go another way. So far, I’ve been staring at a blank computer screen for hours.
Closing the page, I open the document which contains the NDA and the terms to our agreement. I’ve spent all morning typing it up. When put to paper, it’s clear Lincoln is doing this to hurt both London and me. Yes, he may want to use my status to further his, but deep down, he knows the damage this will do to our relationship.
Sniffing back my tears, I attempt to finish this contract, pushing my emotions aside. Upon reading over each clause, I delete clause 3.4 with regret, which says fuck you.
Lost in legal jargon, I don’t even know what time it is, so when a knock sounds on my door, I wonder who it is. I’ve asked Yvonne to hold all calls and cancel any meetings I had.
“Come in,” I call out, fingers poised over the keyboard. When London walks through the door, a jumble of letters scatter across my screen.
“Hi, Princess.”
“H-hi,” I stumble over my words, quickly minimizing the screen.
My jumpiness doesn’t go unnoticed by him. “I’m sorry to just drop by. I tried calling you, but you didn’t answer.” He points at the cell on my desk with fifteen missed calls.
“Oh, sorry. I spaced. I’ve been swamped with work.” He nods but doesn’t seem convinced.
He begins a slow walk toward me, and the room grows smaller. “Is something wrong? After yesterday, you just left, and I haven’t heard from you since. Is it Emily? I know it’s a lot to take in. I understand if you need space,” he says in a rushed breath.
“What?” I ask, stunned. “No, I don’t need space.”
“Oh.” His shoulders depress as he exhales. “Then why the radio silence? Emily couldn’t stop talking about you, but I don’t know how you feel. I think it went well, but—”
“London, stop,” I say, coming to a stand. His mouth remains open, midsentence. “Emily is a special little girl, and I enjoyed our time together. A lot.”
“Then what’s wrong?” He almost begs, arms extended outward.
Averting my eyes, I bite my lip, giving away my guilt. “Princess. Talk to me. Do you want to slow things down?”
“No!” I shout, then a thought so heinous overcomes me. “Do you?”
“Of course not,” he declares while my heart kickstarts back to life. “I just…something is bugging you. Tell me what it is.”
Inhaling deeply, I wrestle with what’s right and wrong. Saving Emily from Lincoln, saving London, is the right thing to do. But lying in the process—does that erase the wickedness?
“I know this is a lot for you. I have a ten-year-old daughter,” he says, stopping mere feet away. His confusion and anguish tear out my heart. “My life isn’t ideal, but I want to spend it with you. Do you want to spend it with me?”
“You know I do,” I reply, biting the inside of my cheek to stop the tears.
“Good, because I want to tell you something.”
“O-kay.” My suspicions are running wild.
“Yesterday, that phone call I took, I was talking to my bank.”
Is he in trouble?
“For a while now, I’ve been thinking about buying another bar. Absinthe of the Heart is doing really well. I just needed a reason to move.” He steps forward and gently runs the back of his fingers down my cheek. I hum in response. “I found my reason.”
“What are you saying?” I say in merely a whisper.
“I’m saying I want to buy a bar here. In New York. I know you don’t want to move back to LA, but I can’t stand to be away from you. I know it isn’t ideal, but it’s a start. I can work something out with Belle. We can make this work.”
The more he speaks, the uglier my tears will become.
He is willing to uproot his life for me. For us. And all I can think about are the horrible lies I’m bound to keep.
He cups my cheek, the apprehension pooled in his eyes, pleading I say something. But I can’t. Everything I say will be unworthy because what he’s proposing? It’s a dream come true. But to attain that dream, I have to sacrifice a slither of my integrity.
“Princess, say something. Please.”
Peering at him from under my lashes, I reveal what a fucking weakling I am. “Open the document on my computer.”
He arches a dark brow, clearly perplexed, but doesn’t argue. I move aside, allowing him to step behind my desk.
His trust in me has me wishing I was stronger, that I didn’t cave because no matter what I had to do, he would have understood in the end, Now, I’ve gone and fucked it all up.
I watch as he reaches for the mouse and opens the WORD document. His brow scrunches at first, as it could be relating to anyone, but when he scans further, his fist curls on the desk.
I feel like I’m moments away from throwing up, so I begin to pace the room, biting my thumbnail.
His teeth grinding, his muttered obscenities, and his heaving breaths all reveal he’s figured out what I’ve asked him to read. I should have just done what Lincoln asked, but lying to the man I love, I just can’t.
The agreement details everything we discussed, so London now knows it all.
“What is this?” he says, his low tone unlike anything I’ve heard before. I stop pacing and turn to face him. He is hunched over my desk, propped on his hands, eyes wild. “Holland, answer me!”
I jolt, his fierce tone startling me. But I stand tall. “It’s what you think it is,” I reply, fear thrumming through my veins.
“No.” London gasps, running a hand through his hair and yanking at the strands. “It can’t be.”
“It’s true,” I affirm, my lower lip quivering. “I saw him yesterday at the ballet. He saw Emily.”
London slams his fist against the desk, rattling it under the force. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I needed to figure out what he wanted,” I explain in a small voice.
“And what’s that?”
“I think you know,” I whisper, closing my eyes when he pushes off the desk with a roar.
This is the reason I shouldn’t have told him. It solves nothing and just causes more pain.
“So, what?” he proposes, walking backward and forward, hands interlaced behind his neck. “He wants you to be his whore, and in return, he will leave my daughter alone? Is that it?” He’s thinking out loud because he knows the answer. He’s read it. “That motherfucking asshole!”
I don’t know what to do, so I stand still, arms locked around me, hoping to thaw this chill from my bones.
“You can’t do it. You can’t,” he says, pacing the room like a wild animal, trapped with no escape route.
“What other choice do we have?” I reply, afraid of the repercussions.
He stops abruptly, charging over to where I stand. He grips my upper arms and shakes me lightly. “This isn’t a choice. It’s a tragedy. Whatever way we look at it.”
He’s right. Why did I have to open my goddamn mouth? “I shouldn’t have told you. I should have just done what he wanted. I’m such a fucking coward.”
London hisses, rocking me harder. “Coward?” he questions, forcing me to look at him as I turn my cheek. “You’re the bravest woman I know. You always have been. Lying would have been the coward thing to do.” He wraps his hand around my nape, drawing me into the warm confines of his chest as he slams his lips to my forehead.
The tears I’ve kept under lock and key begin to fall. “It’s just a few dinners. I can do this,” I whisper into his shoulder.
London’s entire body constricts. “We both know that’s not true. Someone like Lincoln wouldn’t agree to those terms.”
Deep down, I feared this too. He says it’s just a few events, but I know he would never release me until he had his pound of flesh.
“What do we do?” I ask, needing him to guide me because I am so lost.
His heavy breaths are measured. He’s thinking. He’s thinking of a way to save
us all. “We go to the police. We tell them he’s blackmailing you. We tell them he”—his chest echoes with his deep swallow—“hit you. You have pull in this town. Surely, the cops you worked with on the Rossi case can help.”
It’s an option, but it’s a weak one. It still leaves Emily out in the open. It still allows Lincoln to sweet-talk Belle. She is still in love with him. The prospect of them being one big happy family would cloud her judgment, and she’d allow him in.
“We can try, but it doesn’t guarantee Emily’s safety. Let me do this, London.”
“What?” He slowly pulls me from his embrace, placing me out at arm’s length. He is horrified I would even consider it. “No, absolutely not.”
I understand his reservations, but unless he can offer a suggestion that will stick, there is no other option.
Placing my hand on his stubbled cheek, I level him with nothing but sincerity, hoping he sees why I must do this. “You lied our entire childhood to protect me. Now, it’s my turn to save you.”
Those mesmerizing, stormy blue gray eyes soften and grow wet with tears. “That was different.”
“No, it’s not. You sacrifice everything for the people you love. And I love you, London Sinclair. So much.”
“Princess…” A tear slides down his cheek while a guttural sob gets caught in my chest. “I can’t watch you. I can’t watch you be with him. Not again. I did that for years. It ruined me. Don’t ask me to do that again. Please.”
He brushes the hair from my cheeks, my forehead. He caresses the slope of my nose. He needs to touch me as history has a funny way of dredging up old memories that still cut deep.
“It’s not real. It never was. And you don’t have to watch. I’ll do this on my own.”
“No,” he whispers, sweeping away my torrent of tears with his thumb.
I never get to ask what exactly he is opposed to because my landline rings. Yvonne knows to hold my calls, so something is different about this call. At the precise moment, Yvonne knocks at the door.
London and I break apart. I wipe away my tears.
She enters, her gaze fleeting between us. She seems to want to back out the way she came, but she holds a yellow envelope, one which makes my skin crawl. “Sorry, this just came for you. I’ll just leave it here.” She places it on the filing cabinet, giving me a sympathetic look, then backs out and closes the door behind her.
