by Nia Arthurs
Now their tainted.
By her ambition.
By my folly.
Even as I fell for her, she never lost sight of her goal. Her true intentions were never to be with me. I was just one rung on a ladder to her success.
Damn.
It feels like a giant hook slammed into my soul. The jagged edges tearing through flesh, veins, and sinew.
Love did this.
Yeah, it freaking did.
I go crazy on the punching bag.
Try to find an outlet for the restlessness.
For the pain.
My arms cry out and my body throbs with exhaustion.
I’m pushing myself when my tank’s on E.
I haven’t been able to sleep lately.
That damn bed feels so freaking empty without her.
Even after all this.
Even knowing that she was using me all along.
I still can’t forget her.
Can’t get her out of my head.
Talk to her.
That’s Shar’s voice.
My sister was the one who always pushed me to put in the effort. To make myself vulnerable with other people.
I was always horrible at that and she was too good.
That’s why pricks like her ex could walk all over her.
Shar would have stared at me with her eyes that saw everything—even the things I wished she didn’t. She would have perched herself on the bench press and sighed like I was her biggest headache. “Why do you have to be so stubborn.”
It’s called a defense mechanism.
I don’t like to be screwed with.
And I don’t like to get hurt.
No one does.
Maybe. But I don’t need to put myself in a position where heartbreak is inevitable.
Tierra made herself clear.
She was faking it.
All of it.
Or maybe not.
Those groans were real.
And she liked having my hands on her.
Inside her.
The problem is… she put her hands on my heart.
But my fingers never got that far.
So what are you going to do? Just let her go?
I stop.
Turn.
The bench press is empty.
My sister’s not here.
She’s dead.
Along with my mother.
My father.
Everyone.
I let myself be weak because of Shar.
I blame her for this.
The moment she died, she sent my world into a tail spin. My sister was the only one of my entire family who gave a damn about me.
My father was a drunk.
My mother was a drunk and a murderer.
I devoted my life to being the parent Shar never had. I looked after her. Fed her. Taught her right from wrong. And, when my business took off, I gave her the life I never dreamed of.
Anything she wanted, anything she asked—it was hers.
I brought the world to her feet.
And she destroyed me when she presented me with Tierra.
I lost myself.
Forgot who I am.
What I am.
I rest my forehead against the punching bag.
Breathe in deep.
Smells like sweat and dirt.
Like pain.
Like heartbreak.
But that’s not me.
That’s the version who got conned by a woman with sultry brown eyes and a wickedly contagious laugh. That’s the version who succumbed to his heart without thought.
I let these ladies run over me.
But their reign is over.
I’m not going to be this pathetic man, nursing the wound in his soul.
I’m not going to be my dad, sprawled out on the floor getting shot to death.
Love did this.
I’m going to be the one holding the gun.
Pulling the trigger.
Watching the world burn.
Tierra wants a freaking show?
She’s going to get one.
I toss the punching bag and let it swing aimlessly behind me as I stalk out of my home-gym. Tearing out of my clothes, I storm into the shower.
The water is hot.
Like liquid flames.
I let it beat my back. Singe my skin.
Tear out all the feelings that confused me.
No more sulking.
No more lying around my house with that empty ache because Tierra’s not there.
I’m done.
I climb out of the shower.
Wrap a towel around me.
Head to my bedroom.
As soon as I step in, I falter.
Damn.
A memory of holding Tierra in that bed crashes into me.
I wince.
That keeps happening.
I keep seeing Tierra here. In my arms.
Beneath me.
Over me.
Her smile.
Her bright eyes.
Damn.
I have to hold on to the anger.
Have to shield myself from her appeal.
If I give in to love, it’ll only make me weak.
I stalk to my closet and pull out a sharp blazer. After I dress in a crisp white shirt, black pants and loafers, I fix my tie and slap on my limited edition Rolex.
There.
This guy isn’t some pathetic loser moping because he got a knife stabbed in his gut.
Tierra wants to play with fire?
She can jump in and get burned.
I grab my keys from the hook and stalk to my garage.
Twenty minutes later, I park in front of the Make It Marriage office. It’s my second time here and all the emotions I felt that day wash over me.
I was so enamored with Tierra.
She was all I could freaking think about.
I had to have her.
Had to know her.
The very idea of going on vapid dates with anyone else made me itch.
Idiot.
As I storm through the hallways of Make It Marriage, women peer out of their offices. When they see me, their eyes widen.
It feels like I’m a fish in a tank.
Damn.
I’ve been keeping mostly to my house and the office since the news story about my involvement in Make It Marriage broke.
My phone kept blazing with messages, so I just turned it off and told Hansley to call me on my landline if he wanted to reach me.
Thankfully, I’d never let any of my previous dalliances into my house. They didn't know the address either. For the most part, I was cocooned from the world.
A few weeks ago, I would have laughed if anyone told me that I’d end up here—charging through the Make It Marriage office, reeling from anger and betrayal.
Hell, if anyone had told me that I’d block Switzerland Hot Tub Girl’s number from my phone, I would have called them crazy.
But that’s just what I did.
Every woman got blocked.
Every.
One.
None of them compare to Tierra.
She’s ruined me.
So I need to return the favor.
I quicken my pace.
A door to my right opens.
A woman steps out.
I recognize her instantly. She was the one who was giving all those interviews. Venus.
Her eyes bug. “Mr. McQueen.”
“Call me Brett.” I stop. Slant her a practiced smile.
Her eyes twinkle in response. “What a surprise. I didn’t know you had an appointment today.”
“Just dropping in.”
“To see Amina?” She arches an eyebrow.
“Amina?”
“Your case has been assigned to someone else.” She gestures to the office across the hallway.
“Actually, I’d like to discuss that.”
Just then, a woman turns the corner.
My eyes gr
avitate to her and linger.
Tight curls frizzing around her head.
Dark brown skin.
Willowy figure.
A sheer, blue blouse covers her torso and a pair of tight black pants cling to her hips.
Tierra.
My body buzzes at the sight of her.
I can’t control it.
Damn.
The bastard in my pants has a mind of its own.
It’s chosen her.
Just her.
I clear my throat. Steer my gaze away from Tierra. “As I was saying, Venus, that’s what I came to talk about.”
“Hm?” One reddish-brown eyebrow hikes.
“I don't want to change matchmakers.” I swivel around. Stare Tierra down. “I want her.”
Twenty-Nine
Tierra
“You want her?” Venus chokes. Her thick eyelashes bounce desperately as she tries to understand.
After all the dirty jokes that have tripped off her tongue, I have an idea of how Venus’s mind works. I’m sure she’s wondering if Brett means those words professionally or… in another way.
Horror balloons in my chest. Just planting that seed of doubt in my boss could threaten my job.
Is he really that petty?
I pin Brett with a furious glare.
He smirks. Tilts his head.
So damn smug.
As if I’m right where he wants me.
As if he drove all the way down here just to piss me off. To show his power over me. To remind me of my place.
His silver eyes gleam at me, drawing me into his gaze.
Stubble lines his square jaw—more beard than bristle.
It’s clear he hasn’t shaved since I left.
Tingles slip between my thighs.
That rough look suits him.
Damn.
I hate that I’m still so attracted to this man.
To this playboy.
To this bastard.
“I’m sorry. Did I hear that right?” Venus blinks. “You want Tierra… to be your matchmaker?”
“Yes.” But Brett doesn’t look at her when he says it.
He’s looking straight at me.
I want you.
The first time he declared that, I felt his sincerity.
His genuine curiosity.
I was on his mind.
I excited his body.
And there was something both primally seductive and innocent about his pursuit.
This time, there’s no innocence.
And no hopeful excitement either.
He isn’t here to win me back.
To assure me that the thong I found in his chair was a mistake.
He’s here to punish me.
My lips flatten into a thin line. Eyebrows pull together.
Anger radiates off my skin with enough heat to melt the walls down.
His eyes narrow in response. That square jaw ticks in rhythm.
Is he okay? Has he opened that letter yet?
I hate myself for wondering.
Hate myself for caring.
The past few days, I’ve been slowly building myself up. Trying to return to the person I was before Brett McQueen stormed into my life and took over.
I told everyone to leave me alone. I didn’t want to see Mom and I sure as hell didn’t want Kenny’s primed ‘I told you so’. Instead, I focused my efforts on getting a semblance of normalcy back.
I started exercising.
Reading.
Anything to keep my mind off Brett.
And it worked.
Most of the time.
Or it would have eventually.
If he hadn’t shown up looking devilishly handsome today.
My eyes linger over his broad shoulders in that blazer. Over his long legs. His perfectly styled hair.
A frantic beat charges out of my heart.
Now I’m back at square one. All my attempts at moving on just got swept down the drain with one lopsided smile.
I’m not over him.
Even if I can’t stand him.
Venus clears her throat as we stare each other down. “Mr. McQueen, it’s almost time for our team dinner.” She checks her watch. “Why don’t you join us?”
My eyes widen in distress.
Brett plus all my bosses and their husbands?
Hell no.
I shake my head at Brett and then turn to Venus. In a high-pitched voice that barely disguises my panic, I say, “I’m sure Mr. McQueen has better things to do.”
“He came all the way down here. The least we can do is feed him.” Venus smiles. “You’re aware of how much good press we’re getting because of you, right? It’s on us. Don’t even think of footing the bill. ”
He chuckles.
“Venus…” I mumble.
“Fine. Fine.” She rolls her eyes. “Feel free to reject the offer. It’s just a small gathering at our favorite cafe. Brew Drop?”
“I know the one.” He rubs his chin as if he’s considering it.
No.
No freaking way.
Brett’s eyes slam into mine.
I narrow my own to slits. Don’t you dare.
His lips curl up even more.
The jerk.
He’s enjoying this.
The fact that I’m annoyed pleases him.
He tears his eyes away from me and dips his chin at Venus. “I would love to join you.”
My heart crashes into my ribs.
“Lovely. I’ll tell Amina and Kayla.”
“While you do that…” I turn to him. "Mr. McQueen, can I see you in my office please?”
Venus’s smile trembles. She’s suspicious.
Brett shrugs. “Of course.”
Footsteps thumping the ground hard enough to break concrete, I fling my door open and storm in. Brett follows, closing the door behind him.
We’re alone.
Tension splits the air around us.
But it’s not all flashes of anger.
There’s still that spark between us.
Still that magnetic pull that won’t let me go.
I stop at the desk. Turn around.
Moonlight splays through the shadows in the room.
Falls over his pale skin.
His broad shoulders.
His big hands.
I keep my distance.
Right now, I can’t trust myself to be near him.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I hiss. “Are you trying to get me fired?”
“I could.”
“What?”
“I could if I wanted to.” Silver eyes flash in the shadows.
“Are you threatening me?” I step toward him, pulled by a magnetic frequency I can’t resist.
Even if I hate him.
Even if he betrayed me—
Even if he’s holding my livelihood hostage in this very moment—
I still need to be close.
Awareness sparks in his eyes.
He eases a little closer to me.
Damn.
“I’m considering it.”
“I didn’t take you for the petty type.”
“We all have our secrets.” His eyes narrow. “You should know.”
“I never lied to you.”
“You just played the part, right? Anything to get the client hitched.”
My shoulders tighten. “You’re the one who was texting other women.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I saw those messages, Brett.” I arch an eyebrow as a fresh wave of hurt washes over me. “Switzerland Hot Tub Girl?” A bitter chuckle barks from my lips. “You didn’t even have the decency to remember her name.”
His lips tighten. “You saw that?”
“What am I, Brett?” I sneer at him. “Black Booty-call? Or how about The Idiot Matchmaker.”
“Tierra…”
Just then, there’s a knock on the door.
I slap my hand over his mouth. “Sh
ut up and don’t talk to me like you know me. Don’t even look at me.”
Kayla walks in.
I yank my hand away from Brett’s lips and turn to her. As usual, my boss is wearing a stylish power suit. Gossip around the office is those suits costs thousands of dollars.
Of course, she can afford it.
She’s married to a billionaire.
I notice that she’s wearing a loose skirt today instead of her usual tight pencil skirt. Her hair is pulled up into a ponytail and there’s an almost supernatural glow to her brown skin.
Kayla grins wide when she sees Brett. “Mr. McQueen, what an honor.”
Brett keeps staring at me. I can feel the wheels turning behind his silver eyes.
I glance his way, horrified. Answer her.
His hands dip into his pocket.
He chews on his bottom lip as if he’s deliberating something heavy.
What is he doing?
Kayla’s eyebrows scrunch. “Mr. McQueen?” Her brown eyes dart to me. “Tierra, is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” I chirp quickly. Slapping my laptop closed, I head toward her.
Brett growls my name. “Tierra.”
Goosebumps pop all over my skin. The hell is wrong with him? Why is he calling for me like that? I specifically told him not to act as if anything happened between us.
Kayla notices the tone. Her eyebrows flip all the way up.
I hook my arm in hers and steer her from the room. “We should hurry. I heard Brew Drop closes at six.”
“We’re friends with the owners, Chandra and Zania, so they’ll keep it open for us.” She glances over her shoulder. “Tierra, what’s going on with you and—?”
“I’m in the mood for brownies,” I say.
Sure, it’s stupid of me to cut my boss off. That’ll make me seem more suspicious. I’m aware of that. But there’s no way I’m going to explain what happened between me and Brett. Not unless I want my heart and my job on the line.
Right now, I’m in salvage mode.
Avoid. Avoid. Avoid.
“I’ll take a taxi and meet you there. Is that okay?” I ask Kayla.
She gives me a long, knowing look. I squirm beneath that deep perusal, feeling like she’s parsing my chest, cutting my ribs aside and inspecting my heart under a powerful microscope.
Can she see the truth?
Can she tell I fell for a client and screwed everything up?
I let out a breath of relief when Kayla releases me with a patient smile. “You know, you can talk to me about anything. I was in your shoes once too.”
Sure.
As a matchmaker.
But these deluxe can’t-get-over-Brett-McQueen pumps are mine and mine alone.
I hear footsteps thumping around the corner.
