Best Friend’s Sister

by Banks, R. R.

  “God, I’m so scared,” I mutter.

  Knox leans over and kisses my cheek. “You have nothing to be scared about, because you are amazing in every way.”

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re just biased.”

  “Damn straight,” he replies. “But I’m also a very critical reader, and I can say with authority that you are one of the most talented working writers today.”

  I grab a compact out of my bag and do a quick check – also to give myself something else to focus on, and to distract him from the flush in my cheeks. A year and a half together, and I’m still no better at taking his compliments today than I was when we first got together.

  “How do I look?” I ask.

  “You’ve still got that Mediterranean glow,” he grins. “You look utterly amazing.”

  “You are the sweetest,” I state.

  I look at the ring on my finger, watch the lights overhead making it sparkle and shine, and smile. Three weeks after he’d proposed to me, we got married. I told him I’d always dreamed of a spring wedding filled with flowers and butterflies – I just didn’t expect it that spring. We’d thought about waiting until after the baby was born, but I wasn’t that far along. We’d decided we didn’t want to wait after all. When you know, you know.

  When we couldn’t find the perfect venue – both of us wanted it near the water, but we couldn’t find something we felt was perfect; Knox actually bought a freaking yacht for the occasion. And surrounded by our friends, loved ones, and more flowers than I’d ever seen before in my life – practically everything that blooms in spring – and beneath a glorious sky painted in the fiery hues of orange and red of a picturesque sunset, we spoke our vows out on Puget Sound.

  It was beyond perfect.

  A day after the wedding, Knox and I sailed away and spent a few amazing weeks on the Mediterranean. It’s a trip that was so amazing and so perfect, we took it again. Knox surprised me with the second trip on the day my follow-up book to Obsidian Fields – Cobalt Skies – was released. And why not? He bought the yacht, after all – might as well use it, right?

  Knox’s phone chimes with an incoming text. Cradling Claire in one arm, he picks up his phone and checks the message, a grin crossing his lips as he reads it.

  “It’s from your brother,” he informs me. “He says good luck, he’ll be watching, and since you’re rich and famous now, dinner is on you.”

  I laugh and feel a rush of warmth and happiness. It took a little while, but Peter and Knox eventually mended fences – something that makes me beyond happy. It just took Peter some time to adjust to the reality that Knox and I are together. He had to see with his own two eyes that Knox actually had changed and wasn’t simply toying with me. My overprotective big brother to the end.

  When he realized I wasn’t just a passing fancy for him, Peter was the first one to reach out with an olive branch. Knox was gracious about it and didn’t rake my brother over the coals about it. Not too much, at least. But all was forgiven very quickly, and we’re all one happy family now.

  I look at him for a long moment and smile. The question on my lips is one that’s been tumbling around in my head for a long time but one I haven’t ever asked. I guess I’ve been afraid to hear the answer. And I don’t know why it seems so important to me now, but for whatever reason, I feel like I need an answer.

  “Knox, do you ever regret giving up all of your businesses?” I start slowly. “I mean, giving up control of your football team, or –”

  He looks at me strangely. “Where is this coming from?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just worried that you’re going to come to resent me for giving up all of those things you think are fun. I guess I’m worried you’re going to resent me one day for getting in the way of you having fun,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper.

  I look down, my stomach churning, and a river of uncertainty rushing over me. Knox puts his fingers under my chin and lifts my head, making me look him in the eye. The smile on his face is gentle. Kind. Nothing but loving, which makes my heart swell.

  “I don’t regret it for a minute. Not even for a second. You told me once that you thought I had my fingers in so many different pies because I was trying to catch some red dot just out of reach,” he says softly.

  A wry laugh escapes me. “Yeah, I remember that.”

  “You were right. Absolutely right,” he goes on. “And I think I finally found what I’ve been looking for. It’s you and Claire. You are that red dot. You both fill that hole in me. I’ve honestly never been happier or more settled in my entire life. For the first time ever, I don’t feel the need to go build something. I’m happy right where I am. Besides, what could possibly be more fun than getting to raise my perfect little girl?”

  He beams down at Claire, who giggles back at him and reaches her tiny fingers to brush across his lips.

  I feel my cheeks flush and tears welling in my eyes. I bite my tongue and fight them back. I can’t afford to cry and risk smearing my makeup right now – not when I’m expected on set in a couple of minutes.

  “Felicity, I’ve never felt so grounded and so peaceful before. And that’s because of you and every amazing thing you’ve brought into my life,” he continues, looking at me with the softest, sweetest, yet most intense gaze I’ve ever seen. Claire giggles again, and he breaks his gaze and smiles down at our daughter. “Like her.”

  I reach out and lay my hand against his cheek gently. “So, I guess you’re ditching the Clark Kent persona, huh?”

  “It was Bruce Wayne, if you remember correctly,” he laughs. “And yeah, I think it’s probably time to hang up the tights. I can’t be Batman forever, right?”

  “Actually, I always thought of you more as Peter Pan than anything.”

  He laughs again. I lean forward and kiss him hard, trying to convey every bit of emotion I feel for him since words just aren’t adequate. I sit back, looking at Knox and Claire, a smile on my face and peace in my heart.

  The door opens again and the woman with the headset leans in. “You’re needed on set, Ms. Manson.”

  “On my way,” I say.

  I’d been satisfied with the trajectory of my life when I was just an up-and-coming writer. Satisfied with being alone while I worked hard and cobbled together a career. I defined success by the number of books I sold, and the happiness I brought other people with my words.

  But ever since I met Knox, my definition of success changed drastically. My definition of happiness deepened exponentially. As I look at my husband and my daughter, I realize that regardless of how many books I sell, or how high I rise on the bestsellers list, so long as I have these two in my life, I’m more successful and far happier than I ever thought I’d be.

  I get to my feet and smooth my skirt down. Knox smiles up at me and reaches out, giving my ass a good smack that makes me yelp.

  “Knock ‘em dead out there,” he tells me. “And don’t you forget that it’s your talent that got you here. Nothing and nobody else. This is all you, Felicity. It always has been.”

  I give him a quick kiss and look at him for a long moment, my heart swelling to the point I think it might burst.

  “When I’m done with this, the three of us are taking your boat down to your resort in Cabo,” I tell him, chuckling. “I see a margarita in my very near future.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  I head out of the room and toward the set, feeling like I’m walking on clouds. Knox gives me all the credit for filling a hole inside of him, but the truth is, he filled one inside me too. He’s as much my red dot as I am his.

  And life can’t possibly be any better.

  THE END

  Surprise Gift (Sample)

  An Amazon Top 24 Bestseller

  *105 Customer Reviews – 4.6 Stars

  Dear Arrogant Elitist Jerk, I QUIT.

  * * *

  My billionaire boss is a type-A control freak.

  And the thing he wants to control most
is me.

  Cocky and infuriating all wrapped up in one gorgeous package.

  If only I could forget our one-night fling...

  Then one day my title changed.

  From secretary to Henry Clyburne's fiancée.

  "Just fake it for a night", he said.

  I played the part.

  And got caught up in the moment.

  If only I was more responsible.

  * * *

  Now there's a surprise gift neither of us expected.

  Let me send my resignation in before things get worse.

  Chapter One: Naomi

  Eight Years Ago…

  The pounding on my dorm room door startles me awake. One minute I’m sound asleep – face pressed down on the book at my desk like a lot of college students with mid-terms coming up – the next, I’m falling out of my chair, my heart racing as I let out a frightened squeak and hit the floor with a thud. It’s times like these that I’m grateful I got lucky enough to not have a roommate this semester.

  “Just a second,” I call out.

  I quickly gather my wits about me as I get to my feet and smooth down my hair, doing my best to look dignified. Glancing at the clock, I see that it’s after two in the morning. I frown. At this time of night, it’s never good news when somebody is banging on your door.

  In this case, I assume the bad news on the other side of the door is going to be Todd Rider, drunk – as is usually the case with him. Well, drunk and looking for a piece of ass is more the standard deal with Todd. I made the mistake of hooking up with him at a party a few weeks back, and he seems to think that gives him a written invitation to show up at my dorm whenever he feels the need to get his rocks off.

  I don’t usually go to parties – I prefer to keep to myself. I’d rather fill my time with books and music rather than beer and guys who only want to screw me. Besides, I don’t turn twenty-one for another couple months, so I don’t want to risk getting caught at those kinds of parties anyway.

  Despite my misgivings, my friend talked me into going. She has a huge crush on some guy and wanted me there to have her back. Like having me there was going to make or break her chances with the guy. But even though I didn’t want to go, I went because I’m a good friend like that.

  The knock comes again, this time more insistent. I don’t know how many times I have to tell him to leave me alone before he gets the hint. Hooking up with him was a stupid mistake – one I have not repeated since. One I have no intention of repeating. Todd is an arrogant asshole who’d managed to catch me at a time when I was feeling vulnerable and lonely. He said the right things, made me feel some kind of way, one thing led to another, and now he thinks I’m his on-demand booty call.

  The whole situation irritates me so much. I just want him to leave me alone.

  “Naomi, it’s me,” a female voice is muffled through the door. “Open the door.”

  I frown again. Not Todd. It’s Angela, the RA for my floor. And I really doubt she’s drunk and looking to hook up. A shot of fear spiderwebs out through my body like a crack in a piece of glass. After two in the morning, if the bad news isn’t some drunk, horny frat boy, it might actually be bad news. Like, real bad news.

  Clearing my throat, I cross the small room and open the door. Angela is standing there looking even paler, her face more pinched than usual. There’s a frightened, but curious look in her eyes as she stares at me. Angela doesn’t speak for a moment; she just stands there with her mouth hanging open.

  “What is it, Angela?” I prompt.

  She gives her head a shake as if snapping herself out of her stupor. “T – there are a couple of police detectives in the lobby,” she explains, her voice low. “They say they want to talk to you.”

  I feel my eyes grow wide and my mouth fall open. As a million thoughts and even more questions fire through my mind, I stand there gaping at her. Why in the hell would the police be here to talk to me?

  “What did you do, Naomi?” she whispers conspiratorially.

  “I didn’t do anything,” I snap.

  “Well, I don’t think the cops would be here if you didn’t do anything.”

  I roll my eyes, annoyance flashing through me. Angela can be nice, but she’s always up in everybody’s business. She thinks because she’s the RA for this floor, she needs to know everything we’re doing at all times. She’s the RA; she’s not our mother.

  I grab my keys off the small table beside the door and close it behind me as I step into the hall. Angela’s still looking at me wide-eyed like she’s waiting for me to confess all of my sins to her or something. I shake my head and roll my eyes dramatically again.

  “I didn’t do anything,” I tell her again.

  Turning on my heel, I head down the hall, not waiting for her reply. I’m heading for the elevator but hear Angela behind me and decide to take the stairs down to the lobby. The last thing I want is to be trapped in an elevator car with Angela. Only three floors or not, the ride down would seem endless with her in the car with me.

  As I descend the stairs, the questions in my head mount as a nervous knot forms in my belly. It’s late, and my footsteps echo hollowly around the empty stairwell, preceding my arrival. When I reach the lobby, I see two people in suits – a woman who is tall and gaunt, the other a man who is tall and wide – standing near the lounge. The pair turns as one, their faces grim and tired, which makes the nerves fluttering around inside of me kick into overdrive.

  “Ms. Reddick?” the tall woman asks. “Naomi Reddick?”

  “Yes, that’s me,” my voice is shaky.

  “Detectives Wilson and Armbruster,” the heavyset man says.

  I look from one to the other, not really paying attention to minor details – like their names. I can’t even tell which one is Wilson and which one is Armbruster, honestly. The fluttering in my stomach is growing more intense by the second and is accompanied by an ever-deepening sense of dread that presses down on me.

  “W – what can I do for you, Detectives?”

  “Your sister was Maisey Amonte.” It’s more of a statement than a question from the man.

  Was? His use of the past tense, combined with their dark demeanor sends a fresh, white-hot bolt of fear shooting through me. My mouth goes dry, and I feel my entire body start to tremble. I open my mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. I close it again and swallow hard, then give it another shot.

  “Y – yes. Maisey is my sister,” I finally manage to croak.

  The pair exchanges a glance and almost simultaneously, their mouths compress into thin, tight lines. The man clears his throat, and his face softens somewhat. It doesn’t reach his eyes, though. No, those remain hardened and jaded as if he’s been in this same spot and has had to do this too many times. The tall woman’s expression is the same, though she doesn’t seem to have the ability to mimic empathy down quite as well as her partner. Maybe she’s had to be in this spot more times than he has.

  My stomach clenches and I do my best to brace myself for the news they’re about to deliver, fearing that I already know what it is.

  “I’m afraid we have some terrible news, Ms. Reddick,” the man’s voice is soft and gentle. “Your sister Maisey was killed tonight –”

  He doesn’t even get the sentence out of his mouth before a scream that’s as raw as it is primal erupts from my throat. My head spinning, and a wave of nausea washing over me, I fall to my knees. My body spasms hard, and I sob, heavy tears spilling onto the tile beneath me. The two detectives squat down next to me, the thin woman putting a comforting hand on my back.

  They help me to my feet, but my body is completely numb, I let them lead me over to the couches in the lounge area. I sit down and bury my face in my hands as the tears continue to flow. The woman drops down onto the couch beside me and puts a hand on my shoulder that’s meant to be comforting, but just feels awkward. The man sits down on the coffee table in front of me. They give me a few minutes, and I do my best to pull myself back together again.<
br />
  “How?” I whisper. “How did she die? What happened?”

  “She was murdered, Ms. Reddick,” the woman replies bluntly.

  She lets it hang there in the air between us, not offering any clarification or details. Not that I need any. I already know what happened. It was only a matter of time. I taste the bile in the back of my throat, and my stomach is clenching so hard it’s painful.

  “He did it,” I mumble. “He finally fucking did it.”

  “Who are you referring to, Ms. Reddick?”

  I roll my eyes and glare at them. Twin threads of grief and rage slither through my body, wrapping themselves around my heart and squeezing it tight. They know exactly who I’m talking about. I can see it in their faces. I don’t see the need to play these stupid games.

  “Darren Amonte,” I grumble. “Her husband.”

  “And what makes you think he was involved, Ms. Reddick?” the man questions.

  “Because he used to beat the shit out of her for sport,” I growl.

  There’s acid in my voice, and a chill fills the air around us. I get the feeling they already know that, too, but were looking to me for confirmation of the fact. Well, now they have it.

  As I sit there, still trying to process it all, the thought hits me like a bolt of lightning. I’ve been so clouded by my grief and anger; I didn’t ask the most obvious question – one of the first questions I should have asked.

  “Toby?” I whisper. “Where is –”

  “Your nephew is fine,” the woman tells me. “He’s safe. He’s in good hands.”

  I nod, a surge of relief washing through me. Though that feeling is immediately washed away by the next thought that goes through my head.

  “W – was he there?” I ask. “Did he see it happen?”