The Calamity Falls Box Set

by Erika Kelly

  He would have moved on completely, except for Knox. Loyal to the bone, she wouldn’t give up on her boyfriend. She wouldn’t accept that she couldn’t fix him. A fighter to her core, Knox wouldn’t quit battling Robert’s demons for him.

  When a woman screamed, Gray finally gave in and looked. Because nobody—fucking nobody—hurt his heart.

  People formed a circle in the center of the dance floor. With no sign of Knox, Gray got a punch of adrenaline that had him releasing his date and shoving through the crowd.

  Lying on the ground in his tux, Robert laughed. He was higher than Gray had ever seen him. Knox had both hands wrapped around Robert’s biceps, trying to get him to stand him up. She scanned the crowd, relief relaxing her features when she landed on Gray. Help me.

  Pushing through the block of gawking students, he grabbed Robert’s other arm and lifted him.

  “Where you been, man?” His friend reeked of booze.

  As Gray got him to his feet, he noticed the chaperones watching. “Party time’s over, big guy.” Supporting him with an arm around his back, he led him off the dance floor.

  “Slow your roll, dude.” With sloppy movements, Robert twisted free. “I’m dancing with my girl. I promised her. She wants me here.”

  Gray leaned into his friend’s ear. “She wants you sober.”

  Humor turned brittle. “Aw, come on. It’s prom. Have some fun for once in your life.” He turned to Knox. “We’re having fun, right, babe?”

  But she was watching the clutch of chaperones. One broke away from the pack. “Mr. Keeton’s coming over.” Knox pushed past them. “I’ll see you in the room.”

  He needed both hands to steer Robert out of the ballroom, so he couldn’t text his date to let her know he was leaving. He’d do it from the suite they’d booked.

  Someone in Robert’s entourage held the back door open, and they spilled into the courtyard. Underwater lights lit up the turquoise pool, the chilly May breeze rippling the surface. Robert kept up his life-of-the-party schtick, joking around, teasing, and laughing so hard his knees kept buckling.

  It struck Gray that tonight she might finally get it. A rush of anticipation ripped down his spine. For all Robert’s promises, he always let her down. But tonight—prom—mattered to her. Bullied all her life in this small mountain town, Knox had fought back by doubling down on her dream of being a fashion designer. She made her own clothes, and tonight’s dress was part of the collection she’d submitted to score a full-ride to the Fashion Institute of Technology.

  Normally, she’d never even consider partying with the classmates who made her life a living hell, but tonight she’d wanted to strut her sophisticated dress and leave high school on the note of kiss my ass.

  But Robert had just done the worst thing for her. Showing up wasted had sealed her reputation as the junkyard dog. She had to be done with him. If he thought for a second that Robert would go to rehab or get clean, he’d never entertain a single thought about them breaking up. Not much would make him happier than seeing Robert healthy again.

  Even if it meant watching his former best friend live happily ever after with his heart.

  Bass throbbed in the hallway. This night’s not going to end well. Reaching the closed door of their suite, Gray pounded hard. When the door swung open, he was hit by loud rap music and a thick cloud of weed. Knox took one look at her boyfriend and turned away in disgust.

  “Hey.” Robert grabbed her, and she jerked out of his hold. “Sorry, sorry.” He raised both hands in surrender. “Why’re you so pissed?”

  “Who are these people, Robert?” She gestured to the crowded living room area.

  “Just some friends.”

  “Robert, my man,” someone called.

  “Come on. I’ll introduce you.” Robert tipped his head toward them.

  “I don’t want to meet your friends.” She gave him a wide-eyed look. “You promised me.”

  “Come on, baby. It’s prom. You’re supposed to party tonight. We’ve got the whole summer to hang out, just you and me.”

  “This isn’t my idea of fun. I’m going home.” She turned to the door and stopped. “God, I can’t believe I left my car at your house.”

  See, that was the thing Gray couldn’t understand. Somehow, she still trusted Robert to take care of her, to get her home safely. She just would not stop believing in the guy who constantly let her down. “I’ll take you.”

  Robert gave him a hard look as he cupped the back of Knox’s neck and drew her in for a kiss. The whole time his mouth moved like a porn star, he kept his eyes on Gray.

  Until she wrenched free of his hold. “Cut it out. I hate when you’re high. I’m out of here.”

  “Wait, wait, wait.” Robert gathered her in his arms. “It’s just a little weed, that’s all. No hard stuff, I promise. You saw. You were in the limo. That’s all I’ve had.”

  “You shouldn’t have had any.”

  “I promise I won’t have anything else all night.”

  “Dude.” Someone shoved a bottle of champagne into Robert’s hands.

  He hoisted it. “Let’s get this party started.”

  As Robert headed into the crowd, Gray jangled his keys. “Let’s go.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Knox said. “Let me just get my bag.”

  The moment she headed into the bedroom, Robert popped something into his mouth and then tipped back the champagne bottle, glugging it.

  Gray had tried everything, including an intervention with an addiction counselor and both their families, but nothing had worked. He hated that his friend had turned into this lost, broken addict, but he’d accepted that he couldn’t help him. Robert needed to figure it out on his own.

  Knox came out of the bedroom and stopped to watch the party.

  She looked so beautiful tonight. In her fancy white gown, covered in lace and feathers, she could’ve been a guest at one of the philanthropic galas his dad sometimes attended. Her long dark hair fell loose and wavy down to the middle of her back, and her bright red lips drew attention to a mouth that kept him tossing and turning most nights.

  But the disappointment—the pain—in her warm hazel eyes gutted him.

  “I’m so stupid,” she said. “I actually thought he’d come through for me tonight.”

  “You want him to get better. I get that.”

  “But it’s not going to happen.” She looked up at him with an expression that begged him to tell her what she wanted to hear.

  He’d never lie to his heart. “As long as people keep believing his lies and cleaning up his messes, no, it’s probably not going to happen.”

  “I don’t know if I should leave him with these people.”

  He knew what she was thinking. If she left, Robert might get hurt. Translation: if she let go of him, he might die. Gray understood that fear, but no one had the power to keep Robert from dying. Of course, he’d never tell her what to do because, if Robert did take it a step too far, she’d have to live with the guilt that if she’d stayed she might’ve saved him.

  She watched the crowd grow more energized. “Can we get him out of here? Maybe we could—”

  “Knox. Short of binding his arms and legs with duct tape, I can’t force him to leave. He wants this, you get that right? He had a choice. He could be dancing with you or partying like this. It’s his choice.”

  As Robert spun like a top, the energy in the suite changed. Gray didn’t want to be here when things went sideways—and they would. With Robert, they always did. “Knox…I don’t want to be part of this. Are you coming with me or not?”

  He could see the struggle play across her beautiful features, and he wished so damn hard she’d get it. She was strong, fierce; she didn’t let anyone mess with her. Robert was her one weakness.

  Her brow creased with concern as she watched her boyfriend slam into people, turning the living room into a mosh pit. “Should we turn off the music? Tell everyone the party’s over? We have to do something.”

  “Yo
u can’t control him or the situation. You get that, right?”

  “Of course.” Her tone lacked conviction. “But I have to do something.”

  “Why? So you can clean up another of his messes?”

  “So I can make sure he doesn’t get hurt.” She gazed up at him with an urgency he understood. Help me fix this before something terrible happens.

  His features hardened. No.

  “He doesn’t have anyone else, Gray. Just us.” She let out an exasperated huff of breath just as someone screamed.

  Gray whipped around to see Robert and two other guys holding onto each other as they spun around at a dizzying speed, knocking down everyone in their path.

  And then Robert let go, reeled back, and slammed into the sliding glass door. An explosion of glittering safety glass rained down on him.

  “Oh, my God.” Knox ran to him.

  Gray moved a little closer—just to make sure no one was hurt—but held back. He didn’t see blood, just three completely wasted guys on their backs, laughing and moaning.

  For the first time, he had perfect clarity. It wasn’t just Robert who was messed up. She was, too. They were locked in a dysfunctional relationship, and there was no room for him.

  There never would be. She would never see him, because she was focused so completely on saving Robert.

  Chaos erupted in the room. The hysterical chatter, “Call nine-one-one,” and “Oh, my God,” reminded him how much these people loved drama.

  Gray stalked toward Knox and knelt beside her. “I’m leaving.”

  “You can’t go now.” She sounded appalled at the very idea. “He’s hurt.”

  “The cops are on their way. Hotel security will be here any minute.”

  And I’m done.

  Completely, irrevocably done.

  Gray leaned in. “Think about your scholarship. You get in trouble with the police, and they could take it from you.” Dammit, how did he make her see?

  “Babe?” Robert moaned, covering his face with his hands. “I fucked up, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”

  She brushed bits of glass out of his hair. “Are you okay?” She glanced up at Gray. “Help me get him on the bed. We have to make sure he’s not hurt.”

  “No.” He knew what he had to do, but the consequence—losing her, possibly for good— had his pulse banging out of control and perspiration popping out on his forehead. One more chance. “Knox, I’m leaving, and I want you to come with me.”

  Ignoring him, she crawled around Robert’s sprawled form to grab under his arms. Hard as she tried, she couldn’t lift or drag him. “Damn you, Robert.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Somebody help me.”

  He couldn’t leave her like this. Fine. He’d get Robert onto the bed, and then he’d go. But, just as he reached for his friend’s arm, a whole new level of clarity hit with a force that made him lose his balance.

  It wasn’t just Knox and Robert who were messed up. He was, too. It was the three of them, locked in this twisted relationship.

  Gray let go of his friend’s arm. Jesus, I’m as messed up as they are. His need for Knox was no different than Robert’s need for drugs. Or her need to fix her boyfriend.

  He stood up, taking one final glance at his heart.

  And then he turned and walked out the door.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Today

  Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up.

  As the ocean roared through the open bathroom window, Knox Holliday snatched the towel off the rack and quickly rubbed her body dry. Wrapping it around her head turban-style, she eyed the line of surfers waiting for the next set.

  She could feel it—the grip of her toes on her waxed board, the churning of the sea under her feet, and the slap of salty water on her skin. Her body yearned to be out there.

  A storm somewhere in the Pacific had delivered massive waves to the island—rare for September—and she hated having to miss it. Her cell phone trilled from her nightstand. Crap.

  Hurry.

  Padding into the bedroom on bare, damp feet, she picked it up and accepted the FaceTime call. Setting the screen so it faced the ceiling, she said, “Hey, Luc. Just give me one second.” She bent over, unwinding the towel and shaking out her hair.

  “Are you all right?” he asked in his thick, French accent. “What is going on?”

  She reached for the red satin underwear in the top drawer of her dresser and stepped into them. “Just running a little late.”

  “Why? Is there a problem?”

  She could hear the panic in his voice. Such a diva. “Everything’s perfect.” Hitching up her panties, she eyed the line of dresses and blouses in her closet and yanked off a crepe mini dress with spaghetti straps. She stepped into it at the same time she shoved her feet into high heeled sandals.

  “Why am I looking at your ceiling and not you?”

  Her boss checked in every day at the same time. Normally, she’d be ready to show him the progress she’d made, but she’d had to make an alteration to one of the gowns, which had her running late.

  “What is that…why is your ceiling bumpy?” He gasped. “Is it warped?”

  She’d rented the cheapest house she could find on this stretch of beach in Maui. Of course, Luc had offered her his homes in the Maldives and Portofino and his flat in London, but she still hadn’t gotten over what he’d done to her, so she needed boundaries.

  Mostly, though, she wanted to keep him from feeling any sort of ownership in her collection. “It’s called a popcorn ceiling, and what do I care what it looks like when I’m getting the place for a steal?” As if she hadn’t lived in much worse conditions. She’d learned as a child to create beauty in her mind and with her own hands.

  She slicked her hair back into a high ponytail and grabbed the phone. His handsome face came into view from his bright and airy Paris office, seventy-five hundred miles away “Well, hello, there. Nice to see you.”

  “Bonjour, ma chère.” His features pinched. “Why is your hair wet? You showered, when you knew I’d be calling?”

  Maybe she couldn’t get over what he’d done to her, but she still hated to let him down. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m a little late this morning.” She had a show in six weeks, so she’d barely been getting five hours of sleep a night as it was. Last night, she’d gotten even less.

  “Hmph. Every day for one year I have called you at ten o’clock in the morning.”

  That was because he didn’t finish his day until at nine or ten at night. His assistant brought him a baguette, some smelly cheese, and a bottle of wine, and he caught up on all his phone calls.

  “And for three hundred and sixty-four of them, I’ve made it right on time,” she said. “Ready to get started?”

  She turned the phone around and headed into the living room, panning the sea of taffeta, silk, organza, chiffon, and tulle. Even after all this time, she still got a rush of happiness from seeing all that frothy gorgeousness.

  “Stop, stop. Oh, dear God, what is that?”

  Of course, of all the beauty in the room, he’d notice the one problem. A low beat of anxiety pulsed through her. Please don’t freak out. “What’s what?”

  But he ignored her teasing tone. “On the floor. What is that?”

  “It’s nothing to worry about.” She lifted the puddle of charmeuse and lace. “I made a slight alteration.”

  “To La Danseur? There was nothing wrong with La Danseur.”

  “Luc, I promise, it’s all right. I tried it on my neighbor, and I didn’t like the drape, so I’m redoing it.”

  “No, no, no. Does your neighbor have a portfolio with Elite? Is she a Ford model?”

  Her sixty-two-year-old neighbor was fit and tall but not what Luc would consider a model. “Trust me, it wasn’t working. It’s going to be much better.”

  “It’s in pieces on the floor. And Martine is coming on Monday to pack up the gowns. Ach, I’m growing a migraine. Stop this nonsense right now. We’ll do all the tweaks when you arrive in
the city.”

  A thrill shot through her. Thanks to Luc’s support, she’d debut her haute couture wedding gown collection at October’s Bridal Fashion Week in New York City. A big deal for a twenty-five-year-old, just four years out of college. In return, she’d had to create a year’s worth of collections for him.

  “I’ll have everything ready by the time Martine gets here, I promise. When have I ever let you down?”

  “When you left me.” For a fifty-eight-year-old man, he had the pout of a two-year-old.

  “I guess you shouldn’t have stolen from me.”

  His eyebrows shot up into his thick, gray hair. “Take that back. I did not steal from you. Everyone who works for me signs the same contract. I own everything you create while under my employment.”

  Technically that might be true, but he’d devastated her. He’d swiped her sketchbook out of her apartment, designs she’d done on her own time. “Luc, you broke my heart.” Since she didn’t give her heart to many people, that was an even rarer occurrence than a storm in September. It had been scary to quit her job, but she’d believed if she was good enough for Luc Bellerose to steal from her, then she was good enough to go out on her own.

  “And now I have healed it. Trust me, ma chère, you will take the world by storm with this show.” He gave her a smile heavy with pride. “In my four decades in this business, I have never fallen so in love with someone’s style. You are magic, Knox Holliday, and I’m going to make you a star. Ah. That’s it.” He reached for his laptop and his fingers went to town all over the keyboard.

  “What’s it? What’re you doing?”

  “Emailing Victoire.”

  “Why?” What did his publicist have to do with this conversation?

  “I’ve been looking for just the right tagline.” He tapped the final letter with a flourish, then shoved the laptop back. “You are the white-hot wedding gown designer.” He grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “The hottest star in the bridal galaxy.” His smile faded. “I mean that sincerely, you know. They’re not just empty words.”

  Often, he drove her crazy—like when he stole from her—but sometimes she loved him. “Thank you, Luc. Your opinion means the world to me.”