"I love it," he says, his voice husky. I blink, a little startled. He gives me a lopsided smile and nods at the back hall. "Get ready. I'll wait here."
I nod, trying to get a good grasp on his emotions and mood, but he's a remote and closed off. It makes me nervous, but I don't push him.
In my bedroom, I grab my phone and type quickly.
Me: English wants me to keep him company on a weekend trip. And then I'm headed home for a few weeks. Want to do lunch Monday before I head out of town?
I shoves some clothes, cute underwear, and a clean set of PJs into a bag and head to the bathroom. My travel bag is already packed, so I snag it and some makeup off the counter before dumping it into my small suitcase. A few pairs of shoes go in, and then my phone vibrates.
Sun: I can. Luca has a gig in Vegas, so he'll be out of town.
Me: Ok. I'll call you on Monday.
Sun: Do you want me to check on the house while you’re gone?
I smile—this is what I love about Sun. One of the many things.
Me: Please.
That done, I tuck my phone back into my pocket and grab a couple sweater dresses and tights. That'll have to be enough.
Once I've added chargers and my computer to my messenger bag, I heft the tote and head back to the living room.
Asher is standing at my sink, wearing a ridiculous apron as he scrubs my pots and stacks dishes in the washer.
I set the bag down and stare at him. "What are you doing?"
"Mum always hated to come home to a mess," he says, "and since it's my fault you’re leaving so quickly—I thought I could help sort it out first."
He's right. I do hate coming home to a mess. But. "Knox, you don't have to do that," I protest quietly.
Ash glances over his shoulder and gives me a close lipped smile. "I want to."
Not much to say to that. I lean against the counter and watch silently as he finishes cleaning my kitchen, wiping the counters and emptying the sink trap before washing and drying his hands. Then he turns and gives me a pleased smile. "Ready?"
I wonder, briefly, if I really am.
But it’s too late now to back out.
Asher
She’s nervous—I can feel the edginess coming off her in waves. She shifts in her seat, her phone clutched anxiously in her hand. We’ve barely even left the apartment, and already she wants to bolt.
My phone buzzes.
Luca: Did you leave?
I smirk. The black man is almost as invested in this as I am.
Me: Yes.
Luca: Don’t tell her anything until you get to the resort. She’ll worry herself to sleep soon. Keep her safe, English.
I roll my eyes and drop my phone back into my lap.
“Who was that?” she asks, her voice startling me out of my thoughts. I slide a glance over and see her staring at me with those gorgeous green eyes. She’s worried, her lip caught between her teeth.
“A friend,” I say and click on the radio. I see the surprise in her eyes, and I feel a pang—I’m being rude. I want to explain what I’m doing—I want to explain everything. But I can’t. Not yet.
So I let the music wash through the car and drive into the waning day. And if I breathe a little easier when I see her relax and slump, her soft, steady breaths filling the little sports car, it’s only because I feel like I’m lying—and I hate that.
Its pitch black outside when I finally stop. Megan blinks slowly, and I go still, watching her. She looks confused, staring out at the dark villa.
“Where are we?” she asks.
I take a deep breath, let it out slowly. “A villa. Just north of the border—I booked it for the next two days.”
For a moment, it’s like she hasn’t heard me. Then she jerks upright, her cheeks flushed an angry red, and her words come out like ice. “What the fuck, Knox?”
Oh. There’s that again. “Go inside and get settled,” I say quietly, not looking at her. “I’ll explain everything in the morning.”
“What about your photo shoot?” she snaps.
I glance at her, and she laughs, a disbelieving little noise. “You bastard,” she says, softly. Then she steps out of the car, slamming the door hard enough to shake the frame. I wince. I don’t care about the car—it’s the least of my concerns, frankly. But I do worry about her and how angry she must be.
I pick up my phone and dial.
“Are you there?” Luca says. His voice is thick and gravelly, almost as if I woke him. Of course, it’s almost midnight—maybe I did wake him.
“Yes. She pissed, man. Are you sure this is a good idea?”
I had wanted to bolt for Branton and the anonymity of her hometown. It was Luca’s idea to reroute to a villa for a few days. Kevin wouldn’t look to the south for her—and when he realized I’d gone off without waiting for his arrangements, he would look for me. Kevin didn’t do well without constant supervision.
“She’ll come around,” Luca says, his voice confident. “And when you leave there you’re meeting me in Vegas. I’ll keep her from bolting once you get her back to civilization.”
“What makes you think she won’t before then?”
“You’re remote. And you have a manicurist coming to see her tomorrow—she won’t go anywhere.”
It annoys me somewhat that he knows that—he knows her well enough to call her moods. I want to know her that well.
“English—this is important. You aren’t there to seduce her.”
What? Cock blocked from fucking Vegas? “Who said anything about seducing her?” He laughs, the bastard. I can’t help smirking. “Dude. Gorgeous villa on the ocean. What else is there to do?”
“I will personally kick your ass,” Luca says crisply, without heat. “Keep your hands off her until you get to Vegas.”
“Wanna watch?” I taunt him, and he laughs, a low noise that shouldn’t be a turn on.
Luca
“Would you let me?” I ask, my voice dropping to a murmur. There’s a telling silence from the other end of the phone, and I have an oh shit moment. Then my phone beeps.
There she is. Right on cue.
“I gotta run, English,” I say, forcing my tone to go normal. Let him think I’m fucking around. Works for me, as long as he brings her where I want.
He says something, but I’m already clicking over and it’s lost.
“Hey, Megs. What’s going on?”
“Are you awake? I just—I need help.”
Even knowing what’s going on, every nerve in my body tenses at the desperation in her voice.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m at a villa north of the border. The English bastard decided he wanted a weekend away.” She sounds so disgusted and disgruntled, and I can hear bottles clinking together.
“What are you talking about?”
“Asher Fucking Knox. Told me he had a photo shoot and drove me to the middle of fucking nowhere, and now I’m trapped.” Her pitch goes up a little, furious and a little scared. “Come get me.”
I make a sympathetic noise. “Lovely girl, I can’t. I’m on a gig, remember?”
“Shit.” she mutters. “And Sun…”
“With Pablo for the weekend,” I fill in. The clinking pauses, and I grin. “Are you stealing from his mini-bar?”
“He stole me,” she mutters, and I do laugh. “Quit it, Luca.” I sober and hear her sigh. “What do I do?”
My nerves string tight. She sounds lost and on the verge of tears. I’m no good with that—and I want to save her. That’s my job—has been since I saw her in her uncle’s office eighteen months ago, furious and frightened.
“Megs. Give the guy a chance. He’s not going to rape and kill you—and you just told me the other day that you were planning on going back to Branton with him, right? How is this different?”
“I didn’t do this!” she almost yells. “It was completely out of my hands, and he lied to get me here.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. Getti
ng as angry as she is won’t help anyone—especially not her. “Try to see the upside of this, Megs.”
“What upside?”
“Oh, I don’t know. You’re with one of the most attractive men in Hollywood, at a deserted beach. I could find a few upsides.”
“It’s not like that between us. You know it’s not.”
I lose an aggravated sigh. “It’s not because you won’t let it be. Asher wants you. You’re scared to let him—or anyone else—get close to you.”
I hear her sharp intake of breath, can easily picture her wide, hurt eyes. I sigh.
“I have those rules for a reason,” she says, her voice surprisingly steady. “Kevin doesn’t take me serious. If I sleep with my clients—”
“What about me?” I ask, before I can stop myself. Then the question is out there and I can’t take it back, so I run with it. “What about the way you shut down before even giving us a chance.”
She’s quiet, and I curse. “Just, for once, take a chance.”
“That isn’t fair,” she whispers.
“And what you did, shoving me away because of Sun—that was? That’s bullshit, and we both know it.”
“Why are you doing this?” she demands.
Why? Why now? When Kevin is minutes from firing her, and I have nothing left to lose? “Because if I lose you, I at least want to know I tried. I fought for you first.”
She makes a choked little noise, and I know it’s enough—too much, probably. I’ve pushed too hard.
“Just promise you’ll have fun. Don’t sleep with him if you don’t want to, but relax. Enjoy it. You deserve to relax and have fun every once in a while.”
She makes a soft noise that could be an assent—or maybe she’s telling me to go fuck myself. Either way, I need to let her go.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, after the shoot. Okay?”
“‘kay.”
I want to reassure her, but I don’t. I make myself hang up and release a sigh, slowly. I stand and pad to the window, staring out at Vegas and wishing like hell I was on a beach in south Cali with Megan.
Chapter Six
Megan
I manage, against my good sense and own desire, to fall asleep. It’s after only three mini bottles of vodka and one bottle of cranberry juice. So I’m blissfully un-hungover the next morning.
With the sun shining too bright in my eyes, I jerk a pillow over my face and groan. I don’t want to deal with the morning—or Asher. Or what Luca said last night, which I’d like to ignore. It keeps playing on a loop in my head, his voice soft and warm and painfully demanding.
I don’t want to think he’s telling the truth.
But when was the last time I was in a relationship more satisfying than the one I have with my vibrator? I had dated a guy, semi-seriously, in college, but he’d been happy in Branton, and I wanted—needed—more. I still do. And while there were a few guys who caught my eye, and even some I took to bed, they were temporary distractions that quickly got replaced by my work.
Luca and Sun were the only constants in my life since coming to LA. And work, but that doesn’t count, especially since I refused to entertain thoughts of relationships with clients.
I sigh and thumb through my messages and notifications. There are a few from Kevin, all with the same basic message—call him.
I roll out of bed and head to my bathroom. I didn’t investigate last night, but a quick look shows a spacious bathroom with a Jacuzzi tub big enough for five people. Without thinking, I snap a picture and send a text.
Me: You would have so much fun with this place.
Then I strip out of my wrinkled t-shirt and jeans and step into the hot shower.
The water is soothing, just a degree short of too hot, and as it pounds against my skin, I let myself think about what Luca said and making the best of it. I stare critically at my nails and assess my wet hair. “Fuck it,” I mutter. “If I have to be here, might as well enjoy it.”
And since sunbathing in January isn’t my cup of tea—even in south Cali—a massage and mani/pedi seems like just the ticket. Asher won’t want to do that. So I can pamper myself and relax and avoid the root of all evil.
This epic fail might just turn into a win. With a smug smile, I finish rinsing shampoo from my hair and step out of the shower. I glance at my phone—another text came in from Kevin, and one from Luca.
Luca: Only if you in it. ;)
Me: Perv
Luca: You like me that way.
I breathe a laugh and shimmy into my underwear and bra. A cute pair of jeans and off the shoulder sweater finish my ensemble. My phone buzzes, and I glance at it.
Yeah. It’s not a good idea to talk to my uncle without at least half a cup of coffee. I tuck it back into my butt pocket and venture out of my room.
I can smell the scent of the ocean—Asher has the back door propped open. The boy doesn’t seem to know how to close a door. There’s a tray of covered dishes on the counter, and I step toward it, drawn by the scent of food and rich coffee. I peek under a few and find waffles, fresh fruit, fluffy eggs and hash browns, biscuits, sausage, bacon and ham. A small bowl of yogurt and another of grits that makes my mouth water. It’s like he picked everything off the room service menu.
“I didn’t know what you wanted.”
I glance over my shoulder and eye him. He’s wearing sleep pants, hanging low on his hips, and a thin white t-shirt. His hair is mussed, a little bit of scruff on his defined jaw. Tattoos snake down his arms, are faintly visible through his shirt.
He looks for all the world like a fallen angel, and it strikes me that I am maybe the only girl in the world who wouldn’t let him seduce her.
I grit my teeth and look back at the food. “Have you eaten?”
“No. I was waiting on you.”
I bite back a sigh and turn away. He’s moved, and frames me with his body, blocking me in. “Don’t be mad, Meggy. Please.”
“You lied to me, Knox. How on earth do you think I won’t be mad?”
“I do have a photo shoot. I rescheduled it for here.”
I stare at him, deadpan, and he has the grace to flush. “You work too hard. You worked through the holidays—even New Years. You deserve to relax. And you can do that here.”
I shove him lightly, uncomfortable with his nearness. “I could do that in my house with a tub of Ben and Jerry’s and Netflix. Sun and I need to catch up on Breaking Bad.”
I grab two plates, and Asher catches me around the waist, drawing me back against him. I go stiff, fury coursing in my veins. What the fuck? “You don’t get to touch me. You don’t get to grab me and take me from my life and then try to break the rules. It doesn’t work that way.”
“I wanted to give you something.”
I jerk out of his arms and take a few steps away, giving myself room to breathe. He keeps talking, his tone urgent. “You’ve done so much, Megs. And this role for Black Tides—it’s a game changer. We both know that.”
It is.
“Then send me a box of Godiva, for crying out loud. Don’t abduct me and take me to a fucking resort.”
He winces and rubs a hand over his hair. “I’m sorry. You’re right—I fucked up.”
I snort and sit down at the bar, sliding a fork toward him. “Don’t worry. I’m visiting a spa—this place does have a spa, right?—and putting it on the room.”
A smile spreads across his face, and he lowers himself into the chair next to me as I begin uncovering dishes.
Oh god. I’m gonna need to exercise for a week, after this meal. I shove that thought aside and dig into the waffles. Screw it. Right now, I’m on a forced vacation with one of the hottest guys I’ve ever met, and I refuse to think about anything but enjoying myself. At a hefty price tag, that I send straight to Asher.
My phone buzzes again, and I sigh, grabbing it. I’m startled to see Atticus’s name blinking at me instead of Kevin, and I answer quickly.
“Hi!”
“Hey, sweetheart. How are
you?”
Atti sounds like he always does—a little distracted and happy to hear from me. And sexy as sin.
I’m not supposed to think that about my sister’s ex-husband, or my previous professor. But with Atti, it’s hard not to at least notice.
“You got my message?”
“Yeah. Of course, whenever you’re in town, just give me a call. I’d love to see you—and your client. Who does Kevin have you working with? Anyone I know?”
I glance at Knox, who’s watching me with wide eyes. “Just an English actor new to the agency. But you’ll talk to him?”
“For you? Anything. I’ve wanted to call, but…”
“But in a divorce, Nik gets to keep her family. I know. She’ll be pissed when she finds out I called you—so remind her that I think you’re awful and should rot in hell.”
He laughs. “Don’t I? I left her, not the other way around.”
“No, Atti,” I say, my voice warming slightly. “I love her, but I’m not under any illusions ok? What Nik did was ten different kinds of fucked up—you were completely within your rights.”
There’s a moment of quiet and then, “I’m with someone, now.”
That’s a surprise. Because it’s been less than a year since their marriage imploded, and only three months since the divorce was finalized. “That’s…fast.”
“She’s important to me.”
I take a moment to process that. “Is she good to you?”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s all that matters.” I remember someone and grin. “Does Dane like her?”
Atti groans. “When they aren’t at each other’s throats, he loves her.”
I laugh, and he makes a disgruntled sound. “I’ll call you when we get to town, then.”
After I hang up, Asher cocks his head at me. “He sounds like more than a professor, Meggy.”
Sweet Ruin Page 4
