by Fallon Hart
As much as I resented the old bastard for the lesson it had come in handy in business. I could bluff better than some of the most gifted poker players.
For many months with Scarlett, even when we were together, I had a wall up as I always did. But I knew that if I had any hope of winning her back, I'd have to sacrifice my goddamn pride and let her in.
Jesus Christ was it harder than I imagined.
I always thought that if I did let myself be vulnerable with a woman it was because I was sure I’d get that in return from her. That never happened with Scarlett at Thanksgiving. The fact that she cried for me while I spoke of my mum was evidence enough that she cared.
But she’d still walked away from the table.
She’d still walked away from us.
And as much as I understood why…
It fucking hurt.
I’d never been good at dealing with hurt feelings because I so rarely let it happen to me.
Now I was starting to question whether I’d ever get her back and if it might not be smarter to stop letting down my defenses around her.
It was the first week in December, and Xavier was organizing the decorating of the club. We hired people to do it because it was a big and costly job, but Xavier oversaw it. This year Scarlett was excited to help. It was the most enthusiastic she'd been about anything since her return to the club. I couldn't bear to see it for it only highlighted how fucking miserable she was here.
The faster O'Connor made a move against me, the faster I could get Scarlett free of this shit, the quicker she could get out of my life. Not that I wanted that. The thought was almost unbearable. However, I'd decided that keeping her here was selfish— it only made her miserable. I wanted her happiness above mine. Even if it meant losing her.
I was on my way to meet Quentin for a quick lunch after a meeting with my contractor and partners for the Mystic River project. We were set to build luxury apartments on a piece of parkland we'd bought at the edge of the river. We'd come up against some planning restrictions, and the architect and contractor were discussing revisions. My partners and I, however, had the better idea of just wining and dining the bloody planning officer to get our way. We had a vision, and we did not want to compromise it.
There were a million other items of business on my agenda that afternoon, but I had to eat. And if I had to eat, then I was happy to do it with someone I genuinely considered a friend. Quentin was that. And after all his warnings about Pete Svenson over the years, I was determined from here on out to take his advice more seriously whenever he gave it.
My friend was sharp.
Apparently sharper than me.
Not that I would ever admit to that openly.
I pulled up to the restaurant Quentin had texted to me and grunted at my surroundings. I didn’t particularly like the idea of leaving my car parked on fucking Boylston street with traffic rattling down it by the second. It was either that or park it behind the building where I couldn’t see it and where some fuck could try to steal it.
Shaking my head at Quentin’s choice, I got out and paid the parking meter. I was vaguely aware of a car pulling in behind mine but hadn’t paid much attention until I started to move toward the burger place Quentin had chosen for our lunch meeting.
“Mandeville?” a voice called.
I stopped on the middle of the tree-lined pavement and looked back over my shoulder.
Fuck.
Hale O’Connor leaned against the bonnet of his Mercedes.
“You followed me?” I asked.
He nodded. “We need to talk.”
“I’m meeting someone.”
“Meet them later.”
I shook my head. “You want to talk, we talk now.” I started for the restaurant. This fuck was going to know everything was on my terms. As I pushed open the door to the burger place, I was hit with smells that would have customarily sparked my hunger.
But I was too aware of the man at my back to feel anything but a quiet rage in my gut.
I caught sight of Quentin at a small table near the back of the restaurant.
“I told you we talk alone,” O’Connor said in his thick South Boston accent.
“You can say what you have to say in front of my friend. I trust him.” I kept my expression blank. “I don’t trust you.”
He shrugged. “Fair enough.”
Quentin's expression shuttered as we walked toward him and he recognized O'Connor. Not wanting the little shit to think I cared about his sudden appearance, I sat down at the table and said to my friend, "Strange choice for lunch. If something happens to my car, I'm holding you responsible."
Quentin followed my lead and smirked. "The burgers here are worth it, and I'm fucking starving. Amelia has me eating rabbit food at the moment."
I gathered the enforced eating habits had something to do with them trying for a baby. I gave him a sympathetic nod. “Fair enough.”
His gaze flicked to O’Connor who had pulled a chair from another table to ours. “I didn’t know we’d have company.”
“Neither did I.” I looked at O’Connor, trying to stay calm. “You finally decided to show your hand?”
The little prick smirked. “Like you don’t already know what I want.”
Fucking fuck fuck fuck. I schooled my expression. “A share in the club.”
"Well," he grinned, "It used to be I just wanted a share. Now… well, now I want you to let me buy in for fifty percent ownership. I'll compensate you generously, of course."
Was he high? “You’re delusional if you think I’m going to hand over fifty percent of my club to a known criminal.”
"Hey, no need to be insulting." He shrugged his shoulders back and narrowed his eyes. "And I think we both know that I'm willing to make you see things my way. You can't keep that wife of yours locked up in that club forever." He eased back in his chair and smirked. "I gotta tell you, I have found myself looking at the surveillance shots of Mrs. Scarlett Mandeville a lot. It's funny how two sisters can have almost identical faces and yet be so different yeah? Melanie is all hard, sassy, experienced whore. But Scarlett has this got innocent sexiness about her. I've never banged a librarian. Having fucked Melanie, I can't get it out of my head how nice it would be to have a matched set… if you know what I’m saying.”
I felt Quentin press his foot over mine as the rage and urge to take this motherfucking cocky little wanker to the floor. I visualized smashing his nose in. It took everything within me to hold back more of a reaction. “It’ll be a cold day in hell.”
“Like I said… you can’t protect her forever.”
“You arrogant little fuck,” I scoffed. “If you even dared to come within a mile of my wife, I’d metaphorically and physically cut off your tiny little dick.”
"Oooh." O'Connor grinned as malice flashed in his blue eyes. "Big talk. But you ain't the only one with power in this town, Mandeville. You couldn't stop me touching your wife, and if you tried to come after me, you'd start a fucking war. You get that right?"
"No. You touch my wife, and you start a fucking war. A war you won’t win.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He shrugged. “But if I take your wife and you never see her again, it doesn’t matter if you win the war. I’d have a won a battle that’ll cripple you for fucking life. That’ll be worth it to me… to finally take your privileged aristocratic ass down a peg.”
The hell of it was I had no way of knowing if he was bluffing.
Impotent rage held me frozen. If I moved, I might kill him in public.
"You got forty-eight hours." He slid a card along the table toward me. "Forty-eight hours to decide and contact me. We sign a contract giving me fifty percent ownership in The Patrician or I don't stop until I have your wife. Personally, I win either way. I either get the club or I get to fuck your sexy wife the way I like it before I slit her pretty throat."
A second later I had him pinned to the wall of the restaurant, my hand tightening around his throat.
I was vaguely aware of the startled cries and gasps of the other customers and of Quentin trying to calm me down.
But all I could see was red.
All I could see was a threat to Scarlett. Another one because of me.
And I wanted to eliminate it.
“Griff, you do this he wins,” Quentin’s calm voice found its way in. “Let him go. We’ll deal with this another way. But I promise he won’t get the chance to touch Scarlett.”
Realizing if I killed him I’d go to prison, leaving her unprotected for any little fuck to have a go at her, I reluctantly released O’Connor.
He doubled over, coughing.
“Hey, do you want me to call the cops?” one of the young men behind the counter as O’Connor.
The thug cut him a dark look and shook his head.
“You sure, man?”
O’Connor bit out, hoarse, “Call the cops and die.”
The young man behind the counter backed away startled.
“I’ll send you a contract,” I said suddenly.
Quentin grabbed my arm. “Don’t do this.”
I shrugged him off as O’Connor straightened. Despite the way he clutched his throat, he wore a satisfied smirk. One day I’d get him. It just wouldn’t be today. Today I had to ensure Scarlett’s safety. Once I had the contracts signed, I’d send her somewhere safe. Get her a new identity. Make sure her fucking sister never found out where she was so she could mess with her too. And once I’d dealt with O’Connor for good… maybe she could come back.
If she wanted to.
“I’ll decide what you’ll compensate me for half-ownership in the club.”
O’Connor grunted and then rasped, “As long as it ain’t a ridiculous sum.”
“We’ll come to an agreement.”
He held out his hand. “Shake on it.”
I grabbed his hand and yanked him into me. I said quietly in his ear, “You think you’ve won… but I’m going to end you for this. I’m going to fucking end you. Even if it takes me with you.”
He pulled back and met my hardened gaze with his own. “You can try.”
I let him go. “When I put my mind to something, Mr. O’Connor, I always succeed. I have a zero percent failure rate.”
“That’s cos you ain’t ever come against someone like me.” He shrugged his jacket into place and nodded to me. “I’ll be hearing from you.”
Once he’d left, Quentin nudged me toward the door. “We need to leave in case they’ve called the cops.”
So we did.
We both got into our cars and as soon as I pulled into traffic my mobile phone, now connected to the car, rang. I picked it up.
Quentin’s voice filled my car. “You are not fucking giving into that little shit.”
I was silent a second as I realized I was actually trembling with adrenaline. “If it was Amelia, Quentin, what would you do?”
“We’ll think of something else.”
"We will. But first I do this, and I make Scarlett safe. And then we figure out a way to destroy him."
He was silent for a moment, and then he said, "Does she know how much you love her?"
I winced, remembering her words from Thanksgiving.
“…I don’t think I’ll ever believe that I’m the most important thing in your life.”
"You won't tell her about this. I don't want her to know. She'll blame herself and feel guilty, and I don't want that for her."
“Fuck.” Quentin bit out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
“Yes,” I agreed. “That about sums it up.”
◆◆◆
Scarlett
The club was being transformed.
Standing with Xavier in the foyer I watched as two men assembled the most beautiful pre-lit faux Christmas tree I’d ever seen.
“It would be nice to have a real tree here,” Xavier explained. “But it would be too large to get into the club. This one comes in parts and can be stored here and then assembled every year.”
As the men fixed the top in place and attached the cables that would join the lights together on each part, I didn't think it mattered if it wasn't real. The tree was twenty-five feet tall and stunning.
"Try it now," one of the men called to the two of the women that had been hired to help decorate the club. They hit the switch where the tree was plugged in, and it suddenly blazed to life.
"Oh, it's beautiful." I beamed at Xavier.
“Yes. The club members enjoy it.” he smiled back at me. “Would you like to look at the decorations?”
“Of course.”
The women were surrounded by boxes of baubles and ornaments which I helped dispense as the women told the guys on ladders where each bauble should go.
Other staff draped garlands along fireplaces and placed beautiful modern sculptures of gold and silver reindeer around the club under Xavier's direction. White fairy lights were wound around plants and bookcases. Mistletoe was hung above doorways.
Strings of fairy lights were draped down over the banisters of every floor of the staircase.
The club couldn’t look anymore magical.
"The second largest tree is put in the hazard room," Xavier told me. "Smaller trees are dotted throughout. And of course we have a tree and decorations set aside for the penthouse, but I thought you would like to help decorate the apartment yourself."
A pang of longing filled my chest. How happy I’d be to do so if Griffin and I were a real couple. I pushed through that pain and nodded. “Of course.”
"Ah, Mr. Mandeville," Xavier suddenly said, and I spun around to see Griffin marching into the club.
His face was expressionless, cold even, but that wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was that he barely looked at me before he said curtly to Xavier, “I’ll be in the club office. See that I’m not disturbed.” And then he strode right by me and got into the elevator without saying a word.
Since Thanksgiving Griffin had kept his distance but when we did see each other, he was attentive and always asked after my wellbeing.
Uneasiness lurched in my stomach at his coolness.
And yes, I knew that was contrary of me. I didn't want him back, but I was suddenly upset when he decided to give up on trying to win me back.
Because that’s what was happening right? He was giving up on me?
Or, I suddenly thought, something had happened to him.
Worry pricked me.
"Mrs. Mandeville?" Xavier frowned at me, and I could tell from his expression he thought there was something up with Griffin too.
A huge part of me longed to chase after him to make sure he was okay, but I realized that would just send him mixed signals.
I picked up a beautiful gold bauble instead and threw Xavier a fake smile. “I’ve never seen such pretty ornaments.”
Xavier took it from me and handed it to one of the women. Then he put a hand gently to my elbow and walked me away from the team working on the tree. He bent his head to mine. “Perhaps you would like to see to Mr. Mandeville. We can continue without you for a while.”
I bit my lip. “I shouldn’t.”
“Perhaps you should.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Sometimes I think you’re playing matchmaker, Xavier.”
He frowned. “I would never dream of it.”
Liar.
But still, my gaze returned to the elevator. Something was definitely wrong with Griffin.
“Oh fine.” I huffed and strode to the elevator.
As soon as I was inside, butterflies erupted in my stomach. I hadn’t deliberately sought Griffin out since moving back here. I hoped he didn’t read too much into it.
When I got to his office on the third floor, I hesitated.
He had said he wasn’t to be disturbed.
Shit.
What did it matter if he was upset about something?
Okay, so it mattered to me. With a deep breath, I rapped hard on the door.
“I said I’m not to be disturbed,” he snapped from insi
de.
“Griff—I mean, Griffin, it’s me.”
It was his turn to hesitate. “Come in,” he finally said.
Stepping inside, that flurry of butterflies hit me harder than ever. Griff sat behind his desk… and there was nothing. Absolutely nothing in his expression. All the tenderness, all the affection, all the ways I now just realized he'd been making himself vulnerable to me over the last few weeks, was gone. No more.
And I didn’t like it one bit.
Now wasn’t that confusing as hell.
“You seem upset.” I tried to explain my presence. “Is everything okay?”
Griffin nodded. His handsome face remained guarded. Aloof. Cold. “Everything is fine. I’m just busy. You can return to decorating.”
"Have your father's lawyers been in touch?" I suddenly asked. I hadn't wanted to ask him anything about anything these last few weeks, but now I found myself desperate to make him open up to me again.
He shook his head. “No. It doesn’t look like there will be any issues there.”
“Good.” I nodded.
Griffin’s brows drew together. “If that’s all…”
“My sister called. Weeks ago. I didn’t tell you that, did I? They’re safe. She won’t tell me where but they’re safe.”
“Yes, Octavius, informed me also.”
“Oh.”
He sighed impatiently. “If that’s all, Scarlett, I really am busy.”
“Of course.” I flushed, embarrassed by the sudden confusion of feelings. “Right. Well… bye.” I stumbled out of the office and shut the door. Bye?
Oh my God.
I groaned and hurried away.
What the hell was wrong with me?
And what was wrong with Griff?
Was my immediate first suspicion correct? Was he done trying?
Had he given up on me?
Overwhelming sadness flooded me, and tears filled my eyes. I darted behind a doorway to pull myself together so none of the staff members would witness my meltdown.