by Kara Liane
It just is what it fucking is.
I needed Ev to understand me. I needed to hope we could make this work, despite how messed up I was. She centered me. She righted me on my feet when I felt like I was falling and plunging deep into the earth with no way to stop myself before heading into an abyss.
How do you even make a person understand the enormity of all that?
I was worried I’d scare her off if she knew I needed her so badly. Maybe by her getting the letter, she already understood in some way. She was right about one thing, though—this was a complicated situation we found ourselves in.
I figured my roommate in Afghanistan, Jefferson, was the one who sent her the letter. It didn’t really matter who it was, though. I was done thinking about it. We were going to move on. Everything would be out in the open, and I didn’t need the letter anymore since I had her.
I was very much anticipating her return to me. It felt like she had been gone a while, even though she had gone to the restroom only moments before.
I wanted to take her back to her place and show her with my body how much I needed her. I wanted to possess her. I wanted to drive into her so she knew she was mine in every way. My skin itched to feel her up against me.
I sighed in relief when I saw her finally start to make her way from the restrooms at the back of the restaurant to where I stood by the doors. I couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of there. She hadn’t locked eyes with me yet, since there were so many people in the way. She was doing her best to maneuver through, and she made it as far as the hostess stand.
It all happened quickly, but the hostess turned abruptly and caught Ev at just the wrong angle, causing her to run into the man in front of her. His back was to her, but I could clearly see what he looked like. Before he even turned around to face her, I hated to admit that I got a case of jealousy. As far as dudes go, he wasn’t bad looking at all. I couldn’t help wondering what Ev would think of him.
As the guy turned around, I could see a spark of recognition—and appreciation—gleam in Everly’s eyes. I couldn’t tell if she knew him or not, or if she was in fact friggin’ ogling him or not. I was damn sure going to find out what the deal was, though, because I didn’t like the feeling I was getting in the pit of my stomach. My gut usually told the truth. It guided me when I needed it, so it was doubtful it was failing me at that moment. There was another man standing to the guy’s right, also dressed in a suit; he appeared to be an older version of the fucknut. Maybe it was his dad or uncle.
Since she’d run into him, Ev hadn’t looked my way once to even see if I was near. That pissed me off. She started chatting with said fucknut, and he had put his hand on her upper arm as if he to steady her. All three were laughing it up. It was an odd scene since I felt like such an outsider. The ache in my chest was almost as painful as the ache in my groin. Goddamn, I needed her . . . immediately.
I sidled up next to Ev and slid my hand around her waist to anchor her to me. I proceeded to nuzzle her neck and ear, making it damn well known that she was mine and I was her man. I ignored the two men in front of me, even though they had previously held Ev’s rapt attention and introductions were warranted.
“I missed you, sweetheart,” I said as I kissed her neck and groaned in her ear.
She cleared her throat rather obnoxiously, probably annoyed by my obvious stunt. She had every right to be pissed, but I didn’t give a damn. She could take it out on me later—and I’d give it right back. I refused to acknowledge the two men in front of me, and I didn’t plan to until she made an attempt to introduce us.
I could play a dangerous game when I wanted to, and I was determined to win whatever the fuck game we were playing.
Chapter 19: “Everneth”
Everly
What the hell is wrong with Brent? What does he think he’s doing? What kind of game does he think he’s playing? I so wanted to knee him in the balls for pulling that stunt. He was being absolutely bratty. I will admit that when I saw Stuart, a million thoughts flooded into my head at once. First, I had never seen him in a suit, so that threw me.
Okay, so I looked him up and down and was very pleased by the ensemble. I am a female, for Christ’s sake. I could certainly appreciate a handsome male standing in front of me.
Second, what also struck me as different about Stuart was the fact he didn’t look like the frat boy I knew him to be. It was like seeing him for the first time, and in a different light. I heard myself apologizing for running right into his back, which is surprising since, as I’ve said before, I didn’t normally do that sort of thing. He tried to right me on my feet and even cracked a joke about how I finally tripped up for once—he’s told me before he sees me as “little Miss Perfect.” We all laughed about my reaction to his comment, because I was floored. I’m a hardass and take no prisoners in my line of work, but I didn’t realize colleagues viewed me such an overachiever. It was actually a nice compliment, although unnecessary.
If Stuart only knew how far I really was from perfect, he wouldn’t be constantly chasing after me. I hadn’t realized he carried such a torch for me—until that moment. Despite all the text messages, I just attributed the attention to more of a lust or crush; curiosity on his part. Then another pertinent thought occurred to me . . . Stuart had just texted me about twenty minutes earlier. Of course I had ignored it, but he had magically appeared and was there carrying on a conversation with me. How bizarre and stalkerlike and weird! I had been about to ask him whether he had actually known where I was when Brent came worming his way in.
I wouldn’t let Brent know that when he kissed and nuzzled into me he made me squirmy and wet between my legs. He was being a total jackass, all because he was probably jealous. There was nothing to be jealous about, and I thought I had made myself clear as being on “Team Brent.” But apparently, in boy language, that didn’t mean dick. I swear, as soon as men feel threatened, they’re ready to whip out the ol’ ruler.
I cleared my throat to indicate my distaste for his behavior. I even rolled my eyes at his immaturity. Maybe I’d squash “Everneth” before it even got off the ground. Yup, see what I did there? Hey, if celebrities could have their fucktard combined names, then I could have mine.
Brent was still sticking his tongue in my ear spitefully. I continued to let him make an ass of himself. Finally, Stuart jumped in there.
“Umm, hi. I’m Stuart Davenport. This is my father, Herbert Davenport of Davenport Enterprises,” Stuart said to Brent.
I noticed that he kept his eyes on me even as he introduced his father.
Brent’s head popped up for a second. Maybe he remembered his duty as a member of the armed forces—and a gentleman—to project some semblance of good manners. He straightened up to his full height.
Jesus, he’s so easily riled up and provoked.
He gripped Stuart’s hand very firmly. I could see the tension and strain in Brent’s face; I guess he was trying to refrain from crushing Stuart’s bones. Stuart did a good job of holding his own. He didn’t even bat an eyelash at Brent’s action. The tic in Brent’s jaw made his frustration evident. Then Brent roughly dropped Stuart’s hand and quickly shook Mr. Davenport’s, exchanging pleasantries with him.
When Brent grabbed me around the waist again he announced, “I’m Master Sergeant-Select Brenneth Peters, Everly’s boyfriend.”
He stared Stuart down as he said the words. Stuart faltered slightly at the term “boyfriend,” but he recovered quickly.
“Why, Everly . . . I’ve never heard you mention a boyfriend,” Stuart replied in challenge.
Oh boy, he’s totally goading Brent, and he damn well knows it.
I narrowed my eyes into piercing slits. Ugh, maybe some girls think this type of banter is hot, or get worked up watching two males piss over them. To me, was just ridiculous.
I wasn’t the least bit flattered. In fact, I was insulted by the whole display. How could grown men act that way?
And for Brent to throw out the mili
tary title like he had could only mean he needed to feel important. I could understand it, but it wasn’t necessary. Then again, Stuart had thrown his dad’s name around for notoriety, so I couldn’t very well begrudge my “boyfriend” replying in kind. Brent technically was my boyfriend, I supposed, even though we hadn’t yet officially said it. And Brent couldn’t very well have expected me to mention him to anyone since we just reunited. This is all just so infuriating and ridiculous! Ahh!
“So what brings you here this evening, Stuart?” I asked, coyly playing the game. I couldn’t wait to hear his answer.
Stuart’s eyes shimmered with playfulness as a sly grin spread over his lips.
Crap, does he think I’m flirting? Damn, that was not my intention at all.
My game was to find out why he kept stalking me. I could feel Brent’s grip on my side tighten slightly, as if trying to hold himself in check. You poke the lion with the stick . . . well, you’re going to end up getting your hand bitten off.
“Father and I were going to have a nice dinner and discuss some business developments. That’s why I texted you—to see if you wanted to join us to celebrate,” he said, looking right at Brent. He continued, staring me down, “As you know, Davenport Enterprises owns the building in which we work. But as of late, I’ve convinced my father of the merits of acquiring our small publication. We’re still ironing out the final details, but by all accounts, it’s a done deal. You know there will be plenty of beneficial opportunities for employees when this venture goes through. And I will be named CEO.”
I gasped and paled at the announcement. How in the world could I have found Stuart attractive just a few minutes ago? Brent dropped his hand from around my waist, probably because he was afraid he would hurt me if his grip got any tighter. I knew Brent was going to be pissed about the text message; clearly, he had put two and two together and realized it was Stuart those times it chimed. Now was not the time or place to get into it, though.
I took my hand and ran it up Brent’s back as a sign of reassurance. I needed him to know I was there, that I was his. I didn’t want him to think I welcomed Stuart’s advances. I also thought touching Brent would somehow calm me down too. I was doing my best not to make a fool of myself and hyperventilate in front of my new boss. My new boss? Fuck!
Mr. Davenport smiled at Brent and me in a predatory way. “My wife and I are quite proud of Stu. His Princeton education has surely paid off. He’s following in my footsteps. The internship at the newspaper was just the beginning. We have no doubt he’ll take the publication to new heights while making the necessary changes to ensure profitability and amenability—on the whole.”
Mr. Davenport looked right at me as he said the last part, as if he had only added it for me. I felt like I was missing the big picture, and it was the worst feeling given my usually innate ability for astute observation. Had Brent finally clouded my vision and ability to do my job going forward?
I closed my eyes for a second and bit my lip, trying to understand or at least grapple with what he was insinuating. The two men had thrown so much information at me, and yet they had hardly said anything. Their words weighed a ton. I had underestimated Stuart all along. He was calculating, he was cunning, he was highly intelligent, and he was lethal. I was usually so good at reading people, yet I misjudged him; that bothered me the most. Shit, there’s a ruthless side to Stuart I never noticed before. I had thought the persona he played at work—surfer boy, didn’t-give-a-fuck intern—was something else entirely. All the time, his true nature was there, simmering under the surface.
Stuart would do just fine in the newspaper industry, better than me even. He had probably been in training for schemes like this coup his whole life. His daddy surely groomed him well to do his dirty work: infiltrate a business and make a move. Maybe Stuart and his father had been playing our publication from the beginning. What I thought was a carefree-but-eager intern, turned out to be a . . . what? A plant? A spy? The wheels were turning and spinning in my head; I was burning so much rubber in there. I wanted to massage away the headache that was forming at my temples.
I could see the matching gleam in his father’s eyes as he saw me starting to piece everything together. Clearly Davenport Enterprises hadn’t become a successful conglomerate without savvy businessmen at the helm. And what the hell was up with the phrase “beneficial opportunities?” Was that supposed to be a damn hint that I should be on my knees? Did they think I was going to be threatened and blackmailed into being his bedroom—and boardroom—bitch to keep my job? Not on your life, buddy!
I was so mad at myself for the times I had mentioned to Stuart that working for the Philly Timez was my dream job. I’d also told him numerous times that his unwanted flirting wouldn’t screw anything up for me. The whole time, he was probably laughing at me. But what is his damn endgame here? I had to believe there was still a master plan in the works. It seemed like we were only scratching the surface. I was also struck with fear about my own job security and my colleagues’. Would Steve even remain our managing editor?
The room began to spin as I thought about all the scenarios and possibilities. I was shocked Brent hadn’t jumped in there to say some choice words yet, but thank God for that. He most likely was thinking of me and not wanting to fudge things up even more for my career. I didn’t even know what I wanted to do. I loved my job. But how much would things change? What would my future there look like? I was not a quitter. Dammit, Stuart knew that about me too!
“Why, Everly, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you speechless,” Stuart teased.
I dropped my hand from Brent’s back, put my arms at my sides, and squared my shoulders. I took in a deep breath before speaking to smooth the tremble I was afraid would come out in my voice. I would never let my countenance betray me. The polarity of my feelings and emotions pulled me in different directions, and I was helpless to stop them.
“Well, I’ll see you on Monday then, Stuart. Brent and I have celebration plans of our own. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Davenport. You gentlemen have a good evening. I can’t wait to hear the full story behind how all this came about,” I said with a little bit of sarcasm in my tone at the end. I wanted them to know I would be investigating their bullshit deal.
Brent took that as our cue to leave. He placed his hand on the small of my back and steered me out of the restaurant, but not before nodding his head at both father and son as we exited. When we got outside, I sucked in a grateful breath of crisp, cool evening air. Brent rounded on me, despite the press of people hanging out near the entrance and walking on the sidewalks nearby.
“What the fuck was that?” he bellowed.
I had already asked myself the same question. I was not ready or prepared to explain just yet, though. Especially not to him. I was trying to make sense of everything. I knew he needed answers, but dammit, I did too.
I turned my steely gaze on him. He knew when he got fired up—well, I was just as fired up, mimicking his behavior—this is what we did. I would not back down or be submissive to his anger.
“Not here!” I clipped out.
I turned and stomped off. He followed, falling in step with me. We were both walking toward his truck in the parking lot behind the restaurant. He tried to grab my hand. I didn’t know what for, but I was not having it. I didn’t want to be touched just then. It was unfair of me, but I didn’t care. He grunted and let out an exasperated sigh.
I didn’t give a damn about his frustration. I was reeling from all that had just happened myself. I needed a second to think. I didn’t want him to overwhelm me or overcrowd me with his needs and wants. Does he not understand that not only has my personal life taken a hit tonight, but that my professional life is also in jeopardy? This can’t be happening.
We reached his truck, and he, being the ever-surprising, chivalrous man, opened my door. I couldn’t even muster a thank-you. He walked around to his side and got in. I was still seething from all that had happened. I didn’t want to regret gett
ing together with Brent for one second, but my life had not been at all complicated until he showed up. God, I sound like such an ungrateful, cruel bitch. You need to understand that I suddenly felt like the lion being poked by the stick. Except I wanted to take that stick and stab someone in the face with it. Biting an arm off simply wouldn’t do.
Brent gripped the steering wheel, white-knuckling the damn thing. His jaw was set again in the tightest, firmest clench. I turned my face to the front and stared straight ahead, not even looking Brent’s way. Even my peripheral vision seemed to have tunnel vision; all I could see was red, anger, and frustration. I wanted to cry, but I wouldn’t do that. Especially not in front of him.
I was not too proud to show emotion, because Brent had already seen me at my best and worst. But I would not cry over what just happened. I had been through harder, tougher, and more fucked-up shit in my life. That was not going to be the moment that broke me. But the door Brent opened in my life, and in my heart, left me vulnerable and exposed; that frightened me more than anything. My defenses were down—anyone could charge the gate and storm the castle. Reality was a capricious hag that could go to hell.
I was still lost in my self-condemnation and self-loathing party when Brent grabbed my face and kissed everything away. At first I felt like resisting his warm, wet lips. But then I yielded, let him sweep in and take over. I melted against his body, becoming overheated in an instant.
I would use him. I knew I was horrible for doing it, but I would take from him what I needed—and I suspected he was doing the same. I needed to feel in control, and I know he recognized that. Luckily, I didn’t have to undo my seatbelt since I had never fastened it. I hiked up my skirt to midthigh, threw my leg across the console, and climbed onto his lap. I was straddling him perfectly, locking my thighs to his sides so his lower half was nestled perfectly at my center.
