Pride and Prejudice.
My favorite movie in the whole wide world.
“Oh my god!” I shriek, way too loudly. My voice bounces off the walls. I throw my arms around Cannon, accidentally sending the popcorn bucket and all of its contents flying. Popcorn rains down on the seats and floor around us, like buttery confetti.
I never pegged Cannon Kingston as a romantic, but now, I know without a doubt that this man has a secret soft side.
Cannon ignores the spilled popcorn and settles into his seat. He throws an arm around my shoulders.
I continue rambling in shock, my eyes blurry with tears.
He sends a smirk in my direction and presses a finger to his lips. “Shh…”
The man is such an asshole. An asshole I have a huge crush on. So, I grab his face in my hands and kiss his stupid mouth.
29
Cannon
Slipping on my earbuds, I jog down Hart Road in the direction of downtown Crescent Harbor. There's a Taylor Swift song in my head and a crazy smile spread flush across my face as my running shoes steadily hit the pavement.
I tip an invisible hat at the old man working on the flowerbeds in his front yard beneath the early morning sun. When I come across the faded markings of a hopscotch pattern chalked into the middle of the quiet sidewalk, I can barely restrain myself from scampering through it like a kindergartener.
Fuck, I’m…happy.
The word tastes funny in my mouth.
It's been two weeks of wedded bliss and Alexia is turning everything upside down for me. Or maybe she’s turning things right side up. She brings out parts of me I haven’t seen in years. Parts of me I buried to make it in the competitive world of business, to survive the sting of betrayal that comes when you let your guard down and trust the wrong people. And I know she’s cantankerous and combative and borderline crazy but I can see beneath all that. I can see that she’s good.
She cares about people. She values friendship. She’s loyal. She puts her heart into protecting the ones she loves.
And I want to be one of those lucky bastards that woman shares her heart with. I want to claim space in her life.
I'm willing to do whatever it takes—demolish a fortress, dig a tunnel, build a bridge—whatever it takes to get into her heart. She’s worth the effort.
Maintaining my steady pace, I cross the bridge squinting against the blinding sun in my eyes. But as I turn onto Promenade Street, my blood runs cold in my veins and my heart grows erratic.
There's a police cruiser and two moving vans in front of Lexi's shop.
Fuck! No, no, no!
I pick up my pace and before long I've broken into a breathless sprint. Everything on my peripheries fades. All I can see is the two muscle-bound assholes carrying my wife's sewing table up the moving truck ramp.
"Hey!" I clip out, shaking an arm in the air to grab their attention. "Hey, fuckers! Stop!"
Eyes snap in my direction momentarily but they continue loading the table into the truck anyway.
"Put that down!" I bark at them. "Put that fucking table down!"
The men glance back at me before sharing a who-the-heck-is-this-lunatic? expression.
"Are you fucking deaf?” I yell. “Put the table down!"
As I’m closing in on the moving truck, a round-bellied man comes ambling out the door, holding a clipboard in one hand and a box overflowing with wedding veils under the other arm. He tucks the clipboard under his arm and extends a hand to me. "Mr. Kingston? Hi, I'm—"
I yank the box out of his hold. "What the fuck is going on here?" I glance toward the windows. Sheets of old newspaper obscure my view of the inside. Through the door, I can see a group of men taking down the chandelier.
The man blinks up at me. "I'm—I'm Ron, the owner of the company coordinating the remaining evictions. Like you expected us to." He waves the list of non-paying tenants in my face.
His words jab like a broom handle to the stomach. Dammit! Dammit, dammit, dammit!
Storming past the bored-looking sheriff's deputy eating donut holes and playing Candy Crush on his phone, I burst into the shop. The place is in disarray. Bridal gowns shoved carelessly into garbage bags. Naked mannequins facedown on the floor. Light fixtures hanging by the wires.
Dammit!
The deputy lethargically steps into the boutique. "Sir, is there a problem here?"
I hear Ron's confused voice somewhere behind me. "This is what you requested. Six evictions. Sally sent over instructions. Before she left on her vacation."
Fuuuccckkkk! I want to scream.
I did give Sally instructions to coordinate the evictions. Before I knew that Kingston Realties was in trouble. Before I made Alexia my wife. Before I started giving a damn about her feelings. Then I sent Sally off on vacation so I wouldn't have to deal with her crochety ass for a while. And I got so damn caught up in things with Alexia that I forgot to axe the legal proceedings. Fuck. All this is my fault.
I drop the box to the floor and wipe sweat from my forehead. Fuuuccckkkk!
One of the moving guys comes inside and grabs a decorative mirror from the corner. I spin at him so fast he jumps a foot back. "If you dare touch that..."
At my threat, he backtracks out the front door with both hands in the air. "Jeez, man. Just doing my job."
I turn to Ron. "I need you to shut this down. Right now."
The man's eyebrows knit on a frown. "Mr. Kingston, I don't understand what's going on here."
"Get your men and get out of here!"
Taking a step back, he shakes his head. "I can't do that. Do you understand how much I had to pay these movers? To get them here at this time? We cancelled three other jobs to reserve the day for you."
My jaw clenches with irritation. "You will be fully remunerated, Ron." I stick my hand into my pocket and pull out my cellphone. "I'll have my assistant send you a check from my company's bank account by the end of the week—"
"No. Cash!" My head snaps up at the old man. His eyes are wide and resolved. "No, I need cash, Mr. Kingston. No cheques. No wire transfers. None of that. My daughter needs her medication today.” His eyes narrow. His voice quivers but he doesn't back down.
I try to negotiate. "I'll transfer the money into your account in a matter of hours."
"No. Cash."
It's a standoff.
He doesn't soften under my unflinching glare. "I have bills to pay..." he tells me.
I dig into my pocket and all I have is a bank card. I usually have a wad of cash on hand but I left it at home since I was going for a jog. I glance at the watch I pull from my pocket. I don't have much longer until Lexi shows up to start her day. Panic crackles through me. I don't want this to be the scene she meets when she gets here.
I’m trying to get this girl to like me, for heaven’s sake.
I stick an appeasing hand out to the mover. "Wait here." I pace sideways toward the door. "Wait here and don't you move," I tell him. "I’ll be right back with the money. And don't let those movers touch anything. Not one thing."
I don't wait for his answer. I don't have the time.
All I know is I'm running—not jogging—full-on running. Sprinting down the winding sidewalk, jetting in the direction of the bank, darting around the slow-moving locals congregated in the middle of the sidewalk to spread the latest gossip, zooming across the street, barely missing a collision with that rusty, junk-hauling pickup truck from the other day.
My feet can hardly keep up with my racing mind. All I know is I have to fix this before Alexia finds out.
There’s a line-up at the bank and only one functioning ATM. From the back of the line, I bounce about on my soles, impatience crawling up the legs of my sweatpants like fire ants.
I'm jumpy, pacing anxiously, peeking over the shoulder of the shaggy-haired guy in front of me with the too-big business suit and the too-eager look on his face. He glances at me with an agitated expression.
"You mind if I cut in front of you?" My voice is gru
ff and much less than friendly. I brush sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand.
He recoils and gives me a terrified look. "I-I...but I’ve got a job interview..."
I shoulder my way in front of him and crowd the machine. "And I’ve got a life-threatening a emergency." It’s not a stretch. If Stormy sees what I’ve done to her bridal shop, there’s no telling how she'll kill me.
The twenty-something man at the front of the line steps aside, making space for me. "It's all yours, sir."
I must look like a maniac right now. My hair dripping sweat. My face red from exertion. My T-shirt soaked through. And I'm sure my body is leaking desperation.
There's a young mother who takes a step back and holds her gurgling baby closer to her chest. I look at the woman over my back as I punch in my pass code. "You don't mind if I cut ahead, do you?"
She gives me a synthetic smile. It might as well be polyester. "No, no. Go for it." She looks a bit afraid.
I withdraw as much money as the old machine will let me.
"Thank you," I say, shoving hundred dollar bills at each person as I go. Lexi would give me shit if she saw me trying to pay my way out of being a jerk right now. But I don't really have a choice in this situation. "Buy yourselves something nice," I tell the mother. "You deserve it." Their eyes bulge and their jaws drop collectively as they snatch the offerings from my hand. "Here ya go. Have a nice day."
I rocket out the door, shoving the money and my wallet in the pocket of my pants as I go.
And I run. I run as if my fucking life depends on it. I run through red lights. I run despite the burn in my lungs. I run.
Ron is standing outside the door as I approach, his eyes narrow, his lips thin. But I made it. I made it in time. A mix of hope and relief swoops through me.
I slap the wad of bills into his outstretched hand and he gives me a disapproving headshake. But I don't care about his opinion, I just need these movers to put everything back into place before Lexi shows up.
I hunch forward, bracing my knees and struggling to catch my breath. "Get that furniture back inside," I bark at the movers, my oxygen-deprived lungs screaming. "Hurry the fuck up. Get them back in there before the owner shows up."
Hearing her voice from over my shoulder is like being dashed with a bucket of ice water and then getting a livewire thrown at me. "Too late, asshole."
30
Lexi
My chest is so hot with rage, I fully expect my heart to catch fire and burn right through my skin.
That fucker!
Slowly, Cannon turns around. His gaze collides with mine and all I feel is rage. I am so angry with him. So angry with the situation. But more than anything, I am so angry with myself. Why did I let myself trust him?
I woke up this morning, feeling something like love for this man. I woke up hoping for forever with him. But he betrayed me.
His lips move but no words come out. His shoulders slump with defeat. Deep in those caramel eyes, I catch a glimpse of something I’ve never seen on him before. Something hollow and shadowy.
Maybe it’s remorse. Maybe it’s shame or guilt. Maybe it’s just my mind playing tricks on me, telling me it’s impossible that I let someone this vile get so close. I’m not quite sure.
He approaches me, arms outstretched like a shield. In an appeasing tone, he starts. “Look, Lexi—”
Before he can get another word out, I rush at him. My finger jabs him in the chest like an ice pick. "Dick!"
"Look, I—"
My fingernail strikes again. "Dick!"
His irises flash with frustration. “Are you going to let me explain?”
“No, actually.”
Cannon’s fingers latch around my wrist and I have a mind to clock him in the nose but as mad as I am, his touch has a way of interrupting the anger receptors in my brain. I let him pull me down the hall to the stockroom.
He cups the back of his head with his palm. “I know I probably look like the biggest asshole right now.”
“You do.”
His chest fills up when he takes a hard breath. “You don’t have any reason to trust me.”
“Thanks for reminding me of that. Because I forgot for one second, I put my guard down for one second...”
I know not to trust men like him. Brash, rich, beautiful. It’s a lesson I learned a long damn time ago. Girls like me don't get happy endings with guys like him.
I had walls up, I had gates and fences with barbed wire curled around the top. But I let Cannon in anyway. I gave him the key and the passcode and I left the damn door open for him to storm inside. And he stole my dreams.
"You lied to me. You used me to get your father to hand over Kingston Realties to you. Now, your going to kick me and my friends out anyway." I take a slow step back and fold my arms across my stomach, an unconscious effort to press down the turbulent emotions spinning there.
He grabs me by the shoulders and forces me to look at him. “This was an honest mistake, Alexia. Please believe me. I asked Sally to make arrangements for the evictions and then I sent her on vacation to get her out of my face." I sense the frustration in his words. "I got so caught up in the wedding plans, hell, I got so caught up catching feelings for you that I completely forgot to call off the evictions."
"Catching feelings?!" I scoff bitterly.
"Yes, fuck. Yes, Alexia. I have...feelings for you."
My weak little heart gives a hopeful flutter but no way am I falling for that line. Cannon Kingston is as ruthless as they come, and deceitful to the core. There's no way I'm letting him fool me again.
I shoulder my way past him. "You can take your 'feelings' and shove them, King."
"I made a mistake and I'm trying to fix it. I sent the men away. I called off the evictions." His words are frantic. His body pulses with frustrated energy. "I'll get a construction crew in here to get everything in order. I can fix it." He pleads gruffly. "Let me fix it, Alexia."
Over his shoulder, I see the movers hurrying to put my furniture back inside the boutique.
It makes my blood boil. They shouldn't have touched my stuff in the first place.
I put two years of sweat and tears into that place. And Cannon Kingston tore it down in a matter of minutes.
My eyes land hard on his face. I can feel the prickle of tears. I hate the part of me that actually wants to believe him. "Yeah, you're going to fix it, King. In the meantime, I'm going to go take a look at that prenup of ours. Because in case you forgot, I have rights too in our deal."
On that subtle threat, I stomp into my office and slam the door.
31
Lexi
Alexia dahling, I'm thinking a floor-length regency-style mirror would be stunning along the back wall. Maybe something in sterling silver or rose gold to compliment the accents on the crown molding?"
Dahlia Windsor glances at me over her shoulder. The woman's designer stilettos pummel the freshly-buffed hardwood with each quick, purposeful step. Her feathery mid-Atlantic accent mixes with the sounds of drilling and hammering echoing through the empty bridal shop.
She adjusts the fur-trimmed collar of her pink pantsuit. "And I found a beautiful white leather chaise lounge we could place along the front window. It would go perfectly with the powder blue Bhadohi area rug." The interior designer rests a hand on my shoulder and lowers her voice. "It was pricey but Mr. Kingston said to make sure you get everything you like. He said the price tag is secondary to your satisfaction." She winks and fluffs up her salon-bleached hair.
A heated blush explodes across my cheek. "Well, that's...lovely."
Cannon has been seriously obnoxious in his efforts to get back into my good graces over the past few days. He started with the typical apology gifts—extravagant bouquets, expensive jewelry, designer clothes, a chocolate basket that almost did me in.
I think he expected me to land in a swoony pile at his feet once he started flinging money around to get his way. But when his efforts didn't have the desired effect, he u
pped his game.
He hired the best construction company in the tri-county area to repair the damage the movers made when they tore my shop apart. Then he flew in a sought-after interior designer all the way from New York City to give my boutique the right aesthetic. Dahlia has a bottomless expense account and she's not conservative about putting it to use.
The woman slaps a pile of wallpaper swatches into my hand and wanders off to answer her ringing phone.
The construction crew buzzes efficiently around the space, getting the boutique back in working order. They started by patching up the holes in the wall and laying down a fresh coat of paint. Now, they're reinstalling the fixtures and the equipment.
I've lost two days of business thanks to this whole debacle and I've been in here with the construction crew, doing my best to make sure we can get the place reopened in two or three days tops. I don't know if that's realistic, though. The boutique is a mess. With dust and paint buckets everywhere, and newspaper covering the windows. Plus, Dahlia has a long list of upgrades she intends to implement. We have a lot of work ahead of us.
I approach a scruffy-chinned man wearing a Hartley Construction T-shirt. "Excuse me, do you mind moving that shelf a little to the left?"
He lowers his power drill and glances at me over his back. "Sure thing," Leo says.
I bite the inside of my mouth. "I don't mean to be nit-picky. It's just—"
"Mr. Kingston said to give you whatever it is you want." He bends at the waist in a regal bow. "He said to give you the royal treatment."
I barely resist rolling my eyes. "That's what Mr. Kingston said, huh?"
Leo grins widely. "That's what he said."
I won't lie, having King so adamant to win my forgiveness has been kind of satisfying. I have to keep reminding myself that that's not the point. I don't want to bring Cannon to his knees just for the heck of it.
But I do need him to understand that he can't just go, throwing his weight—and his wallet—around to get the things he wants. I need him to actually start taking other people's feelings into account and recognizing that his brazen actions can be hurtful in a way that money can't fix.
Mister Billions: A Small Town Enemies-to-Lovers Fake Marriage Billionaire Romance Page 15
