by Meghan March
“We can still take the club down,” Kelsey says, and I shake my head while trying to process everything Flynn said.
“I told you last night. We’re not going public with any of it. We’re not going to do anything to the club. I’m not that kind of person, and none of you are going to be either.”
“I agree with that. Because I think he still wants you, and he’s just afraid he doesn’t deserve you,” Harlow says, and my attention locks on her.
“What the hell does that mean? He’s afraid of me?”
Harlow’s blond waves dance when she shakes her head. “No, he’s afraid he doesn’t deserve you. And if he has a dead ex, maybe he’s got guilt tied up with her too. Do we know how she died? Was it his fault?”
The questions are relevant, but I don’t want to think about the possible answers. Speculating makes me shiver. “I don’t know. I don’t want to know.”
“So, what are you going to do now?” Monroe asks after she drains her bloody mary. “Do we have a plan?”
“Nothing,” I tell all of them. “I’m going to do exactly nothing.”
“Oh fuck, he really did a number on you. You . . . were you falling for him?” Monroe’s eyebrows, which normally barely move from the Botox, actually jump as her face contorts in horror.
“She wasn’t. No way,” Kelsey whispers, her jaw dropping as she stares at me. “It was just a walk on the wild side, right?”
“Yeah.” I smile weakly and nod. “That’s all it was. A walk on the wild side. Now, back to my regularly scheduled predictable life.”
All the girls at the table study me, and I can almost guess their thoughts.
* * *
Kelsey: She’s full of shit. This is bad. We need the bomb squad.
Monroe: Fuck. We’re going to need more booze for this.
Harlow: I don’t believe her, but I’m not going to push.
Flynn: Do I know any hit men?
When we leave brunch two hours later, we’re standing on the sidewalk, trading hugs, and I feel Flynn slip something into my purse. I look down and see the salt and pepper shakers I was eyeing at breakfast and wondering if they were for sale.
“What? I saw you looking at them. Besides, you need a pick-me-up.”
“But—”
Flynn puts her finger to her mouth. “Shhh . . . Don’t get me arrested. You’ll just have to bail me out.”
I bite my lip and smile at her. “Thanks,” I whisper as I let it go. “I appreciate that.”
She wraps me in another hug. “I think Harlow is right about Legend. You could still have him . . . if you want him. So . . . do you?”
Piercing blue eyes appear in my head, and a shudder of awareness washes over my body. I whip around to look behind me, like he’s standing across the street watching us.
Spoiler, he’s not.
“It was really good to see you again, Flynn,” I say instead, squeezing her tight. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“Invite me to brunch more often, and I won’t be. Legendary Brunch Club. Or . . . maybe just the Brunch Club.”
The word legendary is more than I can handle right now.
Anger and hurt have been thrumming through me all morning as memories of last night creep in. There’s too much about Legend and his past that I don’t know or understand.
What was I thinking? That somehow we could come from completely different worlds and have a fairy-tale romance, complete with a happily-ever-after?
Clearly, that’s not how things work.
It was only good sex, I tell myself. I just need to get me some more of that, and I’ll be fine. I’ll forget about him by next week.
All lies. Especially that last part.
It was more than sex. We had a connection. And it wasn’t just good sex either. It was amazing. No man has ever made me feel like that before, and now that I know it can be that good, I don’t know if I can live without it.
Something about Legend unleashed a part of me I’ve kept caged my entire life because I didn’t know it existed. He helped me see myself differently, and I loved it.
I release a long breath. There’s no way around the truth.
I want more. More of him. More of us.
So, what am I going to do about it?
Seven
Scarlett
Two weeks later
The days that follow bleed together. Work, inventory selection, client consultations, meetings with Amy, makeup and hair with Kelsey, public appearances, dinners at the hottest new and old restaurants with the girls.
Through it all, no one mentions him. It’s like those two weeks of my life, the two weeks I felt the most alive, didn’t even happen. Like it was some alternate reality never to be discussed again.
But I can’t stop thinking about it. About him. About Bump. Roux. Q. Zoe. The club. Any of it.
I keep reliving it over and over. The way he touched me. The way I felt. Then . . . the aftermath. A million thoughts I can’t speak bounce around in my brain like pinballs gone wild.
It all comes to a head one morning when Kelsey is dabbing a bit of concealer on the awesome pimple that popped up last night along my jawline.
“I saw him.”
Her statement requires no context for me to know exactly who the him is that she’s referring to. My questions come rapid fire.
“Where? When? How?”
“A few days ago. At a sandwich shop a few blocks from the club.”
I jerk my head around to stare at her, not caring that the concealer is now everywhere. “You had dinner with me last night. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t think you wanted to talk about him. Especially not around everyone.”
She holds the blending sponge in midair, and I grab her wrist before she can fix the concealer mess.
“I think about him a million times every day. What the hell am I supposed to do, Kelsey? It’s been two weeks. That’s the same amount of time I even knew he existed. I shouldn’t care anymore, but I can’t stop thinking about him.”
“I know, babe. I know.”
I shake my head and slide off the stool, taking a step to my bathroom counter where all Kelsey’s supplies are laid out. I pick up the tubes and pots and compacts one by one and space them out evenly on the towel.
“You don’t know. You don’t know what it’s like to think you’re broken and can’t enjoy sex, and then you meet the one guy who lights you up like a goddamned Christmas tree, and then he throws you out instead of asking how soon you can do it again.” My voice is rough with tears by the end, but I blink them back, not wanting to ruin her hard work.
“Oh, honey,” Kelsey whispers from behind me. “I had no idea. You never said anything . . .”
I spin around and lose my battle with my emotions. A drop tips over my lids. “Chadwick destroyed my self-confidence when it came to sex. He sent me to a sex therapist, Kelsey!”
Her head jerks back, and her features crease with rage. “Oh no, he didn’t.”
“He did! Because he told me there was something wrong with me. But, let me tell you, there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with me when Gabriel touched me. Not a fucking thing. I felt like I was going to lose my mind, in the best way possible. What if I never find that again?”
She reaches for a tissue and carefully dabs beneath my eyes. “So, it was just the sex then? That’s why you’re hung up on him?”
I wait for her to pull the tissue back before I shake my head. “He took me go-karting. He held my hand. He made me laugh. He—”
“Oh shit,” Kelsey whispers, her lower lip wobbling. “You were really, really into him.”
The threat of more tears is strong. “I told him I wanted to make it real. To give us a serious try.”
Her hand covers her mouth. “And that’s when he pushed you away.”
“If by pushed me away, you mean told me to leave and said we couldn’t see each other again? Then yes, exactly.”
“I want to kill him, but I also want to go
kidnap him and tie him to a chair in your living room until he listens to reason and realizes that you’re the best thing that could happen to any man, especially him.”
I choke out a watery laugh, because kidnapping is what started this whole thing in the beginning. But I can’t tell Kelsey that. She’d definitely want to kill him then, even more than she already does.
“How can I chase him after that? What about my pride? My self-worth?” I finally voice the questions I’ve been grappling with for weeks.
“I don’t know, baby girl, but . . . he looked awful. Like he hasn’t slept in days.”
“What?” My head jerks in her direction.
Kelsey nods slowly. “He looked like shit. If it’s any comfort, I’m pretty sure he knows he made a hell of a mistake.”
“Then why wouldn’t he tell me? Text? Call? Smoke signals? Anything? Why let us both suffer?”
“Men are stupid. That’s pretty much the only thing I know for sure. Now, let me finish your makeup so you can slay this photo op, and then you can sweat it all off in your self-defense class. Maybe you could pretend he’s the pad you’re hitting?”
I try Kelsey’s advice, envisioning Gabriel’s face on the pad Bodhi is holding out for me, and it’s not working.
“You’re pulling all your punches. You’re supposed to try to punch through the target, but you’re barely hitting the pad. You need a break?” Bodhi lowers the pads and scans my face with concern.
“I’m sorry. My head’s not in the game today.”
He opens his mouth to start preaching, and I guess what he’s going to say next, so I wave him off before he even gets started.
“I know that I always need to be ready to defend myself, trust me.” I think of the nasty comments that came in last night. I saw them before they could be deleted. My troll has a new profile and his threats are escalating. I screenshotted them and sent them to the detective on the case this morning. “But sometimes, life is a bitch, and you have to work shit out before you can concentrate.”
Thankfully, Bodhi doesn’t try to lecture me. He unhooks the pads from his hands and tosses them in the footlocker near the wall. When he reaches down to unstrap the ones from his legs, I ask, “Are you firing me as a client?”
He glances up and shakes his head. “No. But you’re not going to do yourself any favors trying to work out right now. It’s a great way to get hurt, and I’m not going to be responsible for that happening.”
“So you’re kicking me out?” I hate that I care, but I do, and I feel like a total loser.
“Yeah, but I’m going with you. We’re going to work out this shit of yours so you don’t waste another session. Come on.”
Twenty minutes later, Bodhi and I sit at a rough-hewn wooden table in the café on street level, protein shakes between us.
“Whatever you tell me isn’t going anywhere. I signed that NDA your finance chick sent me.”
I dip my head and swirl the straw around in the thick liquid. “It’s complicated.”
“So it’s about a dude.”
My gaze lifts to stare at his face. “How did you know?”
“Lucky guess. So, what the fuck are we dealing with?”
I don’t know why I’m going to tell him anything. I shouldn’t. But sometimes you need to unload on someone who’s pretty close to a perfect stranger—and yet bound by the restrictions of a confidentiality agreement.
“I fell for a guy. We’re from different worlds, though.”
Bodhi’s shoulders lift. “And here I thought we were all from Earth.”
I shake my head. “No, I mean socially. He’s not from the trust-fund or family-money set.”
“Is that a problem for you? Because you didn’t seem like a snob before.”
I shrug, but I’m glad I didn’t come off snotty and stuck-up. That’s something.
When I don’t reply, he keeps pushing. “So you’re worried that because the guy doesn’t have money like you, you can’t make it work?”
“No, that’s the problem. I think we can, but he doesn’t think so.”
Bodhi leans back in his chair, his chin rising. “So you went for it, but he shut you down.”
“He said he couldn’t have me.”
Bodhi’s big arms cross over his chest, and he looks forbidding as hell. “He trying to be noble and save you from himself or some shit?”
“I don’t need to be saved,” I say, slapping the table. Bodhi chuckles, and it pisses me off. “And he needs to pull his head out of his ass. Typical man.”
“Maybe he’s doing you a favor. Could be a good thing.”
“I refuse to believe that Gabriel Legend is that awful of a person that he needs to save me from himself.”
As soon as I say his name, Bodhi’s chair squeals against the concrete as he shoves it back and stands.
“Who the hell did you say?”
I stare up at the mountain of a man, and for the first time since our initial training session, apprehension fills me. Did I really just tell him Gabriel’s name?
“Why?” I lower my voice.
Bodhi must realize he’s freaking me out, because he lowers himself back into his chair, but his expression is stormy. “You said Gabriel Legend.” He says the name like a curse.
My mouth goes dry. “Yes. Why are you reacting like that?”
“You need to stay the fuck away from him. Nothing good can come from that.”
“What are you talking about? Why would you say that?”
Bodhi’s lips press into a thin line. “Because I almost killed him once, and if we get back into the cage again, I still might.”
Eight
Scarlett
I stare up at my trainer, but my jaw is in the vicinity of the floor. “How . . . how could you say that?”
Bodhi bristles like a beast held back by only a very delicate chain. “Because it’s the truth. Stay the hell away from him. A guy like that can’t give you what you need. Find someone from your own world.”
“But you said—”
Bodhi shakes his head. “Forget what I said. You and Legend are never going to happen. He’s trash. Stay the fuck away from him before he destroys your perfect life.”
The protein shake in front of me has lost all appeal. I pick it up and nod at Bodhi as a dull pain thrums in my belly.
“I appreciate your input, but you don’t know him.”
“And you do?”
Do I? How well can you know someone after only two weeks? Well enough to know I want to know him better.
“Thanks for the protein shake, Bodhi. I’ll see you next session.” With freezing fingers wrapped around the cup, I ignore the hurt welling up inside me, grab my bag, and walk out of the café. Bodhi’s words chase after me all the way home.
“Find someone from your own world . . . You and Legend are never going to happen.”
“What does he know?” I mumble, clutching my bag to my middle after I slide into the back seat of a cab.
My phone slips onto my lap, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s a sign from the universe telling me to text him.
I could send him a message. Keep it casual. Ask him if the club attendance is still up. Ask him if Bump and Roux are doing okay. Just . . . keep the lines of communication open.
Right. I could just act like he didn’t fuck me and tell me to leave.
Somehow, the phone finds its way into my hand, and the text window is open to his name. I scroll back and read through some of our messages before that awful night.
* * *
Scarlett: How can you not have a favorite color? Everyone has a favorite color.
Gabriel: I don’t know . . . I never thought about it. I don’t like orange, though.
Scarlett: Well, if I had to guess, I’d say your favorite color is black.
Gabriel: Is black even technically a color? I think you’re breaking rules.
Scarlett: I figured you’d approve of me breaking rules.
* * *
I cringe at m
y past attempt to get him to realize that I’d like to break rules with him. So smooth, Scarlett. But he didn’t miss a beat.
* * *
Gabriel: Leave the rule breaking to me, ladybug. I’m better at it.
* * *
My inner muscles clench with a rush of heat between my legs. Why can’t he break his own rules with me?
I scroll down to the bottom and read the last text he ever sent me.
* * *
Gabriel: I can’t wait to see you tonight. Been looking forward to it all day.
* * *
Why couldn’t he have sent that today? Stuck in midday Manhattan traffic, I let myself daydream, imagining what it would be like to get messages from Gabriel like that every day for the rest of my life.
A different kind of warmth wraps around me. The kind I felt every time my phone would buzz with a text from him, and I’d rush to see what he’d said.
We aren’t that different, Gabriel. Bump said I made you smile. Why can’t this work?
I’ve never taken no well, and especially not in a situation like this, where I think the other party’s reasoning is completely flawed.
Why can’t Gabriel Legend have me? Not a single rational reason comes to mind. What could he possibly be thinking?