Bixby clears his throat. “You should both go.”
I don’t care about him, but he’s buzzing around like a fly so I take a swat. “And you should back the fuck away from us. Did I communicate that effectively?”
He does. “Anger management is two doors down on Wednesday.”
Savannah looks around the room, realizes all eyes are on us, and there is likely no way she can salvage the situation. Chin high, she marches to her seat, retrieves her purse, then walks out of the conference room.
I trot after her. It’s not the first time I’ve done something I regret, but knowing I hurt Savannah cuts through me.
Without speaking, she escapes through the first door she finds in the hallway. I’m right there with her, searching for something to say that will make her feel better.
“Dumpsters. Of course.” Her cheeks are red. Her eyes blazing with anger. It’s illogical. Impulsive. But also inevitable. I pull her in for a kiss. My hand wraps up in her hair. The other on the small of her back. The passion she’s channeled toward being angry with me is replaced quickly by desire.
Her hands are just as hungry. Her body writhes against mine as she opens her mouth for me. It’s a kiss that defies logic, a passion that simply is.
We are both breathing heavily when she breaks off the kiss. Her hands plant on my chest, and she shoves back. Like a cord yanked from an outlet, we jolt apart.
“This is insanity.” She stares up at me with frantic eyes.
“Savannah. I just came to—”
She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter why you came. It matters why I was there. And why now I’m out here by a dumpster.”
“That class is a joke. You don’t need to be listening to some guy named Trent telling you about vision boards in a warehouse. What are you looking for? Tell me.”
She rubs her hands over her face. “I don’t need to justify my decisions to you. I don’t expect you to understand what I’m doing. You were probably educated at the best schools. Surrounded by sophisticated people. Given every opportunity to succeed. Well shocker, that hasn’t been my experience. But I’m trying to learn.” A tear escapes and runs down her cheek. “I’m trying so hard, and I can’t let you stand in my way.”
“I’m not standing in your way, Savannah. I’m on your side. I just don’t want to see you hurt.”
“Brice, I’ve been hurting every day for a long time. That’s the part you’re missing. This is the first time in a long time I’m not hurting. Being here, on my own, working to be a better version of myself. I need this. Don’t take this from me.”
My gut twists painfully. “I don’t want to take anything from you.” If I knew what she wanted, I’d move heaven and earth to give it to her.
“This is important to me.”
“I know it is.”
“Do you? Then you know when something is important, it’s worth the sacrifice.”
Sacrifice?
She continues, “Obviously, there is something between us. I’d be a hypocrite to deny it, but I can’t let it derail me.”
She’s stronger than I am, and it’s a humbling realization.
She has dedicated herself to a course, and Charles is right—the last thing she needs is a fling with a playboy prince.
Is that still all I am? All I can offer her? I work all hours of the night, orchestrating deals that may change my family’s future and sustain us financially for generations. It’s quite possible I might be more than a spare-tire prince.
I want to be more.
I’m still processing the depth of my feelings for her, when she says, “You know what they have back in Coppertop? Dumpsters. Back alleys just like this one. And any night of the week behind the bar I work at I could get in an argument with a guy and end up back here if I wanted to. I’m trying to have something different. But here I am outside by a dumpster. I should be in that conference.” She wipes away another tear. “I belong in that conference.”
I don’t have words to articulate the mix of emotions whirling within me. I’ve never felt so wrong, so deeply invested in how someone else feels. Her pain is ripping through me.
Without blinking, I could buy the fucking building that conference is happening in, but I can’t undo what just happened in there. I could walk her back in, explain that I’m the ass, but it wouldn’t return to what it was for her.
“I’m sorry, Savannah. You do belong in there. I shouldn’t have come today.”
She blinks a few times and nods. “I shouldn’t have gotten so defensive and told you to leave.”
We walk out of the alley together. “Do you need a ride back?” I ask.
She sniffs and looks around. “I don’t know if I can face Chucky right now.”
“I drove my own car.”
She shoots me a sidelong look. “Really?”
She deserves the truth. “Charles would not have condoned my appearance here today.”
She searches my face. My heart is thudding wildly in my chest. “This is about more than just keeping me safe, isn’t it?”
I nod. “I can’t get you out of my head.”
“It’s the same for me.”
It should have been a moment that ended with us in each other’s arms. There is too much sadness in her eyes, though, for me not to understand this is goodbye.
I raise a hand and cup her cheek. “I wish I knew how to help you, Savannah.”
She places her hand over mine, steps back, and breaks the contact. “I wish I hadn’t met you when I wasn’t ready to.” She takes out her phone, types away on it, then pockets it again. “I called for a car to pick me up. Tell Charles I said thank you for everything. I really am grateful for your help. I just can’t . . .”
She turns and walks away.
I’m left with my tumultuous thoughts and a conviction to set things right for her. No matter what that takes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Brice
I’m on the fifteenth floor of my office building. I’m done circling around, worrying that Jana Monroe might have nefarious intentions. She will be the resource Savannah believes she is, or she will feel my royal wrath.
I’ve never summoned my men for anything but late-night partying, however they’d come at my command. I haven’t used my connections outside of business deals, but my associates now include some who could make her and her organization disappear. Even Charles, disapproving as he has been lately, didn’t try to dissuade me when I told him where I was going. We don’t know if Monroe is acting on her own or if she’s part of a larger, more dangerous organization.
When one is about to go to battle, it’s best to at least prepare one’s army.
I made an appointment because I’m willing to give her an opportunity to resolve this in a civilized manner. As far as I know, she hasn’t done anything to harm Savannah yet. God help her if I discover that’s not the case.
Her secretary leads me into her office. I take a seat. Calm. Ready.
“How can I help you?” Jana sits back coolly and taps her long fingernails on her glass-top desk. “Your request to see me was a surprise.”
“I’m sure it was. I’m here about Savannah Barre.”
“I’m still not sure how I can help you.”
“She’s a client of yours. Not sure what your other clients are like. Are they also naïve women from small towns?”
She arches an eyebrow. “That’s an interesting assumption. I’m intrigued. It appears we have a mutual friend who isn’t representing my services well.”
“Your services? And what exactly is it that you do?”
“I’m sorry, but confidentially is essential to the success of what I do and for a positive outcome for my clients. I’m disappointed that Savannah does not appear to understand that.”
I lean forward and growl. “Let’s make one thing clear. Whatever you’ve promised Savannah, whatever plans you have for her, from this day on you clear them with me. She’s under my protection.”
Her laugh is a
n insult by itself, but she adds, “How outdated and unnecessary. She’s under your protection?”
“Careful. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
Jana rises to her feet. “Nor do you. Although it’s kind of sweet . . . I guess . . . that you felt coming here and threatening me would help Savannah, but all you did is confirm that it was a mistake to take her on in the first place. I gave her an opportunity to pull herself above the life she was born into. She chose chaos and you. It’s a shame, though. My way would have had long-term benefits.” She looks me up and down. “You come across to me as a one weekender.”
I don’t care what she thinks of me. I don’t even care that her assessment of me—at least as far as who I was before I came to Boston—is correct. “You speak with real conviction. Is that how you lure your victims in? Promise to help them better themselves? You miscalculated when you chose Savannah, though. She is not desperate and alone, ripe for your picking and manipulation. If I were you, I would tread carefully with how you deal with her. My guess is your business would shrivel if exposed to the spotlight of media attention. People in your business are always popular until your other clients fear you’ll name them in a plea bargain.”
“You think I’m a madam?” Jana’s eyes go wide. Now she looks shaken. “Is that what Savannah thinks I am?”
I push out of the chair and rest my hands on her desk. “It’s what I think you are. Care to correct me? I’d love to hear your version of what you do.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t do that.”
“Then we have a problem, don’t we?” I straighten. She may not be ready to confess, but we understand each other now. “You either include me in every decision you make regarding your ‘plans’ for Savannah, or you cut ties with her.”
“You don’t intimidate me.”
“Then you’re not nearly as intelligent as you think you are.”
Jana blinks first and sways on her feet before sitting back down. I won this time, but I can’t leave until I’m sure there won’t be a round two.
“Let’s be clear, if you hurt her, you’re done. You and everyone associated with you.”
“I’m not what you think I am.”
I smile. “Let’s hope not. Because you’re on my radar now. I’ll be watching. If I see you ‘helping’ another unsuspecting woman, there won’t be a safe place for you to hide.”
I leave the office without another word and slip past her young receptionist.
Charles meets me in the hallway.
“It’s done,” I say.
“Done?” His eyes round. “As in, the conversation went well or I need to bring the car around so we can stash a body in the trunk?”
One side of my mouth twitches. Sarcastic bastard. “Jana Monroe is no longer a problem. She’s now aware of how dangerous further association with Savannah would prove to be.”
We enter the elevator together, turning to face the door as it closes. “So, she’s not working with Savannah anymore?”
Was I not clear on that? “Exactly. Savannah is safe now. She can find self-improvement courses on her own without being groomed for whatever that woman had in mind for her.”
His silence is telling.
“It had to be done, Charles. You yourself said you were uncomfortable with the secrecy surrounding the Monroe woman.”
“I did say that.”
“But.”
My phone beeps, ending our conversation there. It’s the text I’ve been waiting for, confirmation that one of the tech companies I’ve courted will allow me to buy in as a private investor. The deal will prove lucrative for both sides, especially if the software they’re developing becomes as successful as I think it will.
After a lifetime of having my every whim anticipated and fulfilled, I championed for my people and won. The partnership will bring in much needed funds and future job opportunities. My brother will soon have a second option to bring needed funds to our country.
Savannah is no longer in danger.
Two goals—both achieved.
The satisfaction I expected to feel doesn’t come.
Charles and I step out onto the thirtieth floor. “Charles, have you ever done something that felt right and wrong at the same time?”
He takes a deep breath. “Yes, and that’s always a sign for me to back out of the situation. It’s time to go home, Bricelion.”
“Not yet, Charles.”
Not yet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Savannah
Powering through is my nature. Do I want to see Brice again? Yes. But not everything a person wants is what they need. So instead I’m taking Jana’s advice about self-care. I just ended an hour-long massage at the spa Chucky introduced me to and am feeling human again.
I can’t give my energy to every mistake I’ve made. All I can do is try to do better from this moment on.
I’m halfway through getting dressed in the changing room when my phone rings. “Hello?”
“Savannah, we need to talk.” Jana’s voice is formal to the point that my stomach instantly twists into knots. I know the tone bad news takes. It has a knife’s edge. Steely and cold.
“What’s going on?”
“We had an agreement. Rules of engagement.” Jana sighs. “I was very clear with my expectations.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve been making it to all the appointments you’ve set for me. I thought the event went pretty well.” My face blazes red with worry. “Is this about the conference? I can explain.”
“I had a visitor today.”
“A visitor?”
“A man who said you were under his protection. He insisted I should back off and leave you alone.”
I sag against the wall. I’m going to kill that man. First I’m going to fix this, then he needs to die. “Jana, I’m so sorry. Brice thinks he’s helping. I’ll talk to him. Please. You won’t see him again.”
“Savannah, what I do is only possible because there is confidentiality. I do wish you luck. I’m rooting for you, really. But I can no longer work with you.”
The line cuts out, and I stand in the hallway wide-eyed and gasping. What happened? It’s over. Every single thing I did to get here, stay here, and grow here, is over now. My knees knock together as I lean against the wall.
I’m still in shock as I finish dressing. Maybe I paid for the massage. I don’t know. I’m not even sure how I make it back to my apartment building, but that’s where I am before I know it.
This has to be a dream. I must have fallen asleep on the massage table. That’s all this is. A post-massage nightmare.
“Hey girl, what’s going on?” Claire flips one of her long braids over her shoulder as she steps in my path to the elevator.
I look at her, completely at a loss for what to say.
“Oh, my God, did something happen?” She ushers me gently over to a padded bench in the lobby and rests a hand on my shoulder as we sit.
I’m not dreaming. This is my fucking reality. I did this. I told Brice about Jana. “I screwed up. I screwed everything up by opening my big mouth.”
“Now hang on, there’s hardly anything in this world that can’t be undone and fixed. Tell me what happened and we’ll come up with something to make it right.”
“I had a plan—a good plan. Now I have nothing.”
She rubs my shoulder like one would a child. “Plans change. It would be pretty boring if everything went exactly how we expect it to.”
A tear runs down my cheek. “I guess.”
“My mom always said that when things get tough there are really only two choices a person has. You can lie down and give up or you can get up and keep fighting. I’m a fighter. Which are you?”
I sniff. “I’m definitely a fighter.”
“Okay then. Don’t let this beat you. Whatever plan you had that isn’t happening, it’s not your only path. Come up with a new plan.”
I meet her gaze and realize she probably talks like this to her children
. I never had that. I hear her, though. I choose how much power to give this. If I give up and go home now, it’s not Jana’s fault. It’s not even Brice’s. It’s my future and my responsibility to fight for it. “I thought I knew what I was doing, but you’re right, all I need is a new plan.”
“That’s right.” Claire smiles. “And maybe some carbs. They always lift my spirits. Would you like to come over for dinner tonight? I guarantee it will be loud, messy, and chaotic, but I make a mean spaghetti. To balance that out, though, we’ll need to put in an hour at the gym. Also good for improving your mood.”
“I’d love that.” I remember where I came from and say, “I just had a massage so I won’t be able to lift weights.”
“Walk on the treadmill then. Best way to remind yourself to keep putting one foot in front of the other.”
I rise and give her an impulsive hug. “You are one wise mama.”
Claire pats my back gently as she squeezes me. “Meet you in the gym in an hour?”
“You’re on,” I say. “I do have something I need to do first. But I’ll be there.”
I return to my apartment and take out one of the few possessions I brought with me. It’s a small, tattered notebook I used to write in when I was a teenager. It is full of angst, but also of my dreams.
I settle onto the couch and flip through it. I had planned to open it after my transformation. A few days ago everything in it had felt out of reach to me, but this was my vision board.
What had I wanted before I lost myself?
I’d wanted a family.
Friends.
A job doing something important.
Nothing so crazy I couldn’t make it happen on my own.
I’m a fighter.
I flip to the back of the book and trace a circle around a name and number I wrote there a long time ago. I do have family. My mother had a sister who had children of her own. Somewhere in western Massachusetts, I have a family I’ve never been brave enough to contact.
Soon after my father went to prison, my grandmother told me I’d be staying with her because no one else wanted me. Years later, she told me she reached out after my father died and my aunt hadn’t changed her mind. She wanted nothing to do with me.
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