Pride and Papercuts

by Staci Hart

  “I don’t think it has,” I said softly, my heart lodged in my throat.

  “Why do you say that?”

  I looked up, met his eyes. “A truth for a truth. I owe you one.”

  His gaze darkened. “The truth about what, Maisie?”

  “I … I kissed Marcus Bennet.”

  He stilled.

  “Well, I mean, he kissed me, but I asked him to,” I rambled, “so I’m not really sure who kissed whom, but we did. We kissed.”

  “How …”

  “It was chance. I ran into him in the rain. Literally ran into him, and he took me to a coffee shop and asked me out. Well, I asked him out. And a half hour later, he walked into the boardroom, representing his mother.”

  He ran his hand over his mouth in a long, slow stroke. “Maisie, you can’t—”

  “I know. I know we can’t, and he does too. But I hate it, Dad. I hate it so much.” The catch of my voice prompted me to swallow. “And after today, I’m not altogether convinced I shouldn’t just pack my things and leave. Forsake it all because what kind of life will I live if it’s under her?” My breath hitched, and I swallowed a sob. “I don’t want to end up like her, Daddy. I can’t.”

  “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, pulling me into his arms again. “You will never end up like her.”

  “Even if I end up loveless? Will I spite and resent her so much that I become her, just like she became her mother?”

  “No. You won’t end up like that. I promise.”

  “You can’t promise that.”

  He didn’t argue.

  I backed away, wiping my cheeks. “I can’t live like this. I can’t.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “You would support me leaving?” I asked hopefully.

  “I’ll support anything you want, but that’s not what I meant. You have something she wants, Maisie. She’s doing an awful lot of negotiating, considering it’s you she has to convince to stay.”

  I sniffled, thinking it through. “So I should try to bargain with her?”

  “Your mother doesn’t bargain. She demands, and so should you. Because here’s the thing—there is a place for you here. Think of all you could do with this company when those shares are in your hands. If you play it right, you can inherit a vehicle to elicit change and good in the world. You can reshape the company. And most importantly, you can stick it to your mother.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “If that isn’t enough for you to stay, I understand. If you don’t want to be yoked to your mother for another minute, I will back you up. If you’re ready to go, say the word and I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. But before you give up for good, I think you should put up a fight.”

  “Do you really think it would work?”

  “You’re ready to walk away, right?”

  “I am,” I answered with certainty.

  “Then what do you have to lose if it doesn’t?”

  A feeling arose in me, a slow rise of light, of hope, of purpose and freedom. Because she had nothing left to hold over me that I wasn’t willing to give up. The power shifted to me, slid into my waiting hand and blazed in defiance.

  I would make my stand. Make my demands.

  And for once, she would give me what I wanted.

  “All right,” I said with a bold streak of rebellion fluttering in my belly, “I’ll do it.”

  He smiled, cupping my cheek. “Attagirl.” He made to stand, pausing to press a kiss to my forehead. “I believe in you above all, Maisie. You can do anything you put your mind to.”

  “Thank you. For believing.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, turning to go. “But do us all a favor and stay away from Marcus Bennet.”

  And I laughed like that was possible.

  Because there was one more rebellion I’d make.

  And he’d be waiting for me in the morning.

  10

  Satisfaction Guaranteed

  MARCUS

  I walked up to the coffee shop the next morning with determination I shouldn’t have, considering I had no plan.

  Winging things was not in my nature. I came into every moment of my life equipped with a plan and a contingency plan. Nothing was left to chance—not if I could help it—and if it had to be, I planned even for that.

  But when it came to Maisie, there were no steps to take, no outcome to predict. There was no logic to apply. Only the undeniable intention to unearth what was between us.

  This, coupled with the knowledge that I couldn’t have what I’d found.

  The risk was too great for her, and I knew I should warn her off. I should refuse her for the sake of her future. But then the reminder of what that would mean for her well-being to stay would rise within me, and the compulsion to save her would overshadow all reasoning.

  This was not my decision to make. It couldn’t be. Because if it were, I would defy all consequences and claim her for mine.

  Fuck the rules if the rules involved Evelyn Bower telling anyone what to do.

  The coffee shop was warm, or maybe it was just me. I scanned the room for her in vain, both disappointed and unsurprised—I was early, unable to stall, too anxious to get here. Too ready to know what would come next.

  I ordered coffees for us both—I remembered what she’d ordered, remembered what she’d said, remembered every moment I’d spent with her. And once drinks were in hand, I took stock of the available tables, looking for the perfect one. Something close enough to the window but without the exposure, something private enough without being tucked away in a dark corner.

  Of course, a dark corner didn’t sound like the worst idea I’d ever had.

  My mind buzzed with eager dread as I took a seat at a table for two, putting my back against the wall so I could see when she entered. If she entered. But she would. I didn’t know how I knew, but I did.

  A few minutes after eight, I basked in my rightness.

  Maisie was the portrait of loveliness. A streak of light illuminated her hair, illuminating the golden curls like a halo. Her face, small and shaped like a heart, was alight from within, her eyes locking on mine the moment she passed the threshold. With a longing smile, she floated in my direction, our gazes never disconnecting.

  “Hi,” she said softly, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.

  “Hi,” I echoed, too struck to be clever.

  She drew a breath to fortify herself and set her bag next to the chair. “Is that for me, or did you need that much of a pick-me-up this morning?” Her eyes flicked to the table, but I was too busy watching her slip off her tan wool coat, revealing a crimson dress that somehow managed to be both sweet and suggestive. Something about the cut maybe, the tasteful V of her neckline, the swinging grace of her skirt.

  “Hmm? Oh,” I started, glancing down at her coffee. “I got you a flat white. That’s what you drink, right?”

  “It is,” she answered with a smile as she sat. “Thank you.”

  I watched her fingers wrap around the cup as she took it, watched her lips as they met the rim of the cup for a sampling.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said. “My mother had a hard time taking no for an answer when I made excuses so I didn’t have to ride with her to work.”

  “I imagine she did.” I tried to school the distaste out of my voice without luck. “I’m glad you came, Maisie. We have a lot to talk about.”

  A flush rose in her cheeks, her eyes lighting with hope. “Like what?”

  Like how I can have you. What would it take? What would it cost you? Would you even want me?

  “Like what exactly your mother has over you,” I said instead, wondering first what I was up against. “There has to be some way I can help.”

  “Oh.” She looked down at her hands. “I … I thought that maybe …” She laughed rather than finish, waving her hand in dismissal. “Never mind. What exactly do you propose to help me with?”

  My pause was pregnant with uncertainty that I had any reason t
o hope. “What did you think I wanted to talk about?” I asked quietly.

  Her fair cheeks flamed. “Nothing.”

  “Did you think I wanted to talk about us?” I chanced.

  “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t hoped.”

  Relief bloomed in my chest, a leap of my heart, a rush of deliverance. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t come here to. If you and I had been alone yesterday when I found you crying, this conversation would be very different.”

  “How so?”

  My eyes fell to my hand as I reached across the table for hers. “For starters, we wouldn’t be here.”

  “No?” she breathed.

  “No. We’d be at my place, and you’d be wearing less than this.”

  “Oh,” left her lips as a whisper. “And what would we be talking about?”

  I traced the shape of her knuckle with my thumb. “How to see each other with all of this between us.”

  “What’s stopping you now?”

  “Only that there’s no solution, not one where you don’t give up more than I would ask. What would you lose?”

  She turned her hand, threading her fingers with mine. “What if I told you it didn’t matter? What if I told you I was ready to walk away?”

  “I’d say you were crazy. And I’d tell you to do it.”

  A chuckle. “Well, my mother inspires crazy in people.” She paused, and for that moment, we were preoccupied with the sight of our hands entwined on the café table. “I came back from England because she promised me almost half of her shares over the next ten years, provided I do exactly what she wants. And she gave me the charity I started after college, though she hasn’t held up her end of our deal. But yesterday … yesterday, I realized I can’t do exactly what she wants. I have to find out if there’s a way to do what I want inside of what she wants. And if not, I can’t stay.” With a breath and a sad smile, she said, “I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.”

  Recognition and pride struck me. “That’s exactly what I told my family when it came to fighting your mother.”

  Her dark eyes snagged mine. “I think we have a lot more in common than we realized, Marcus.”

  “I think you might be right.” I shook my head. “I won’t stand by and watch her destroy everything good in my world. Including you. I’ll do whatever I have to do to strip her of her power. So tell me how I can help, and I’ll do it.”

  “I hope you won’t have to. I can’t pretend for another day that I can do this. And so, today I’ll raise my bet and see if she antes up.”

  “Do you think she’ll fold?”

  “Not a chance in hell,” she answered bravely. “But then that will be that. And I’ll do what I please with no one left to stop me.”

  “And your inheritance? Your future?”

  “Well, if I know my mother, my money, home, and relationship with her will disappear, as will my place at Bower along with any opportunity to do something meaningful there. I suppose I’ll get a job in public service somewhere, another charity maybe. Anywhere, as long as it makes me happy. That’s really all I want—to be happy. And as for my future, well”—she looked up at me with timid hope—“that depends on you.”

  Sweet God, when you look at me like that … I thought, pressing down hope of my own, reluctant to accept the implication that she wanted me until I knew for sure.

  “If your happiness depends on me, I could deliver as soon as right now. Every thought since I first met you has been chased by the memory of you. But what I want is secondary to what you need. Maisie, you need to be sure. I can’t …” let you in, lose you, lose myself “Are you sure?”

  She considered the question for only a heartbeat. “When I think about walking away, I don’t feel afraid. I feel relieved. Would you be on the other side?”

  “I would be,” I said quietly.

  Worry gathered her brows. “I’m not the only one who has something to lose. What about your family? Your future? The lawsuit? Wouldn’t I put you in danger too?”

  “It’s nothing I can’t handle. The lawsuit would likely get harder, yes. But it would be easier to ruin your mother if you weren’t in the room—I can’t deny that.”

  She chuckled.

  “My family will love you, and renouncing Bower would go a long way in terms of brownie points.”

  Her lips curled up in a smile. “You said will. Not would or could, but will.”

  “I did, didn’t I?” My mind raced with possibility, my smile light with the fantasy of having her after believing I never would. But that smile fell as I searched for pitfalls. “What happens if your mother accepts your terms?”

  The weight of that question made itself known.

  But she answered, “Then I suppose I’ll have to add a term to that ultimatum. You.”

  I could have burst out of my skin and taken flight. “But not yet,” I amended, stroking her hand, watching her lips. “Don’t put yourself on the line for me, not until you know. In the meantime, we’ll keep it a secret.”

  “Until after the lawsuit,” she added. “It’ll give us time to figure out what this is, and we’ll know where the chips fall. If she finds out before …” Her face fell. “If we think she’s bad now, she’ll be impossible once she finds out. And your family will pay for it.”

  “Don’t worry—we’ll do our best to make sure she doesn’t find out until we’re ready, until all this is over. It’ll make it easier to break the news to everyone if we know who’s won and lost.”

  “Exactly, and it won’t put any more stress on your mother.”

  “What about yours?” I asked.

  “I couldn’t give a good goddamn about what stresses her. And if today goes like I think it will, it won’t matter.”

  “And the lawsuit? Will she keep forcing you into the middle of it?”

  That smile of hers widened. “I’ll give her that, because it will allow one very useful thing—I will be privy to every move my mother makes. Which means you will be too.”

  “A spy, huh?”

  “Why not? It’s one of the few ways I can help you. Because what she’s doing is cruel, and if I don’t do something to try to stop her, I won’t be able to live with myself.”

  “Maisie,” I started, my heart thudding painfully in my ribs as I gave her a final out, “I don’t want to be something you regret.”

  “If I can have you, it’s because I’ve made a choice for myself. And I could never, ever regret that.”

  “Come here,” I said, my throat tight as I tugged her hand and leaned back to make room for her.

  She took the signal, standing to make her way to me. I snagged her waist the second she was within reach and guided her into my lap.

  Her arms wound around my neck, her eyes on my lips and breath shallow. And I looked into her eyes, cupped her face, and wondered if I was already lost.

  “Maisie?”

  “Yes?”

  I thumbed her bottom lip, savoring the feel of her weight in my lap. “I’m about to kiss you, right here in this café, in front of all these people. I’m about to taste the lips that have haunted me since I tasted them last. I’m about to kiss you, Maisie, and when I do, I’m—”

  Her lips crashed against mine, hard with determination, mine firm from surprise. But a heartbeat was all it took for the sweetness of her mouth to soften, to open, to meld in a seam that sealed more than our lips. It sealed a promise, a wish, a longing I’d believed would never be satisfied.

  And if I learned anything from that long, languid kiss, it was that satisfaction was guaranteed.

  The kiss slowed, stopped, and when she leaned back with heavy lids, she laughed. “I’m sorry, but I thought you’d never shut up.”

  I stole another kiss. “Come to my place tonight. I’ll make dinner, and you can tell me what happened with your mother.”

  Her smile faded, the light in her dimming at the mention. “At least it’ll give me something to look forward to.”

  “Yes, it will. Whatever
happens, I’m here. Just say the word.”

  “Thank you. For all of it, Marcus. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet.”

  But she smirked. “Don’t tell me what to do. I think I’ve had enough of that.”

  “Should I ask you to kiss me again?” I baited with a tilted smile.

  “Oh, no—you can tell me to do that anytime you want.”

  And she granted my wish, just like I’d hoped she would.

  11

  Pavlovian

  MAISIE

  Against all odds, I found myself kissing Marcus Bennet, curled up in his lap like a cat, boneless and braindead in his arms. At eight-something in the morning. In front of twenty people.

  And I couldn’t have been happier about it.

  We parted with a sigh, the blue of his irises barely visible for his wide black pupils. Both of us smiled sheepishly.

  “Tonight at eight.” His words came out rough and hot, words that said we would be doing a lot more than eating dinner and talking about my mother.

  My stomach flipped at the thought.

  “I don’t want to leave,” I said, fiddling with his lapel.

  “I know. But go do what you need to do. I’ll send you my address. Just let me know what happened when it’s all said and done.”

  “I’ll probably be on my way home to pack my things,” I joked, not at all joking.

  “You never know. Maybe she’ll surprise you. She’s good at that.”