Surprise flickers in his eyes at my unexpected pushback which of course, is because I don’t push back; not against my father, and all orders from my brother and even Randall, were always from my father, but that is no more. My need to please him even in his death changed two weeks back when I discovered things I wish I didn’t know. “Where is your head right now?” he demands, leaning in closer, sniffing my direction. “You smell like whiskey. Drinking at a public event-”
“Stop, Randall. Stop now. I’m not a child.” I’m a lot of things he and my family don’t know or understand. A lot of things I became to cope with this life.
His jaw sets hard. “I’m worried about you. It’s not like you to run off like this.”
“My father died a month ago,” I hiss. “What is normal for a month after my father died? Please tell me because I don’t know.”
“There she is! Emma!”
At the sound of Marion Roger’s voice, I squeeze my eyes shut because of course, I can’t ignore one of the owners of Breeze Airlines, the hotel’s largest corporate client. But God knows, her connection to a past I’ve buried is bad enough. Now, knowing what I know of her and my father, avoidance might be smarter than looking her in the eyes and tempting myself to tell her that I know everything. A temptation, if realized, could well be dangerous and I suspect that she knows I know this. I suspect she knows that I will do almost anything to keep what is buried, buried.
Randall gives my arm a squeeze, a warning—no, a demand that I perform right here, right now. This from a man who wants in my bed and in my life, a man who obviously can’t see the many reasons that has never happened. I turn to greet Marion and her husband, Monroe Roger, both of whom are not more than ten years my senior, which places them just under forty. My father was fifty-five. My mother is only forty-nine, a stunning, well-aged forty-nine, that obviously, considering Marion, was still too old to please my father.
“Nice of you to attend tonight,” Randall greets them, offering Monroe his hand and leaving me to come toe to toe with Marion, her bouncing red curls and piercing green eyes beam with fake affection.
“How are you, honey?” she asks, pulling me into a suffocating hug and I swear she’s wearing the jasmine perfume my mother favors.
“I’m fine,” I reply tightly, pulling back. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” she says, brushing my cheek in a far too intimate gesture, intimate in ways that suggests something more than friendship. An advance of sorts, one that I understand. I know how sex is used as a manipulation tool. I know in ways that no one in my family knows I understand, but they created. I don’t welcome this woman in my life in any way, shape, or form. I don’t plan to replace my father in her bed but that’s her family’s way. Fuck whoever and however you can for money and power. “You’re not okay.”
I fold my arms in front of me. “I’m fine.”
“Why don’t we sit and have a drink?” Monroe suggests.
“I’m rather tired,” I say, welcoming the escape.
“Just one drink,” Monroe pushes.
“We can do one, right, Emma?” Randall suggests. “A nightcap to help you rest?”
My lips tighten and I think of the hell I will receive later if I decline, which motivates my agreement. “One. Yes. Of course.”
Monroe motions to a table in the center of the room and the four of us claim our seats. The waiter is on top of us almost instantly and as everyone places their orders, heat burns my neck, drawing my gaze directly forward, landing on Jax. I ‘m now sitting across from his booth and he never pulled the curtain shut again. We stare at each other and when the waiter stops next to me and says, “Ma’am? What would you like?”
“Irish coffee,” I say. “North Whiskey.”
I feel the jab of Randall’s attention on me, but I ignore him. The waiter bows his head, “Of course,” and then walks away.
“I hear you’re scouting a location in Germany,” Monroe says, the comment directed at me, with reason. My role at the Knight Hotel empire is to scout and develop new locations.
“I am,” I say. “I leave in two weeks for Berlin. It will be my first time in Germany.”
This launches the table into sharing all their experiences in Germany, which was my intent. I wanted them talking about themselves, about their experiences, rather than asking questions about me. I don’t look at Jax again. I don’t dare for fear I’ll make my interest obvious, but he looks at me. I feel his attention, a heavy blanket that warms me far more than the coffee and the whiskey. I down my drink and order another, while no one at the table seems to even notice. Another for a lightweight like me proves a mistake. Halfway down the glass, and my head spins, while my stomach churns with an emptiness that hasn’t been properly filled in weeks.
I stand up and Randall catches my hand. “Where are you going?”
“The bathroom calls me,” I say. “Loudly. I have to pee.”
Marion laughs at my less than ladylike statement that defies my proper Emma Knight persona, but much about the Knight family now defies the proper manners I grew up being taught to be. Tugging my hand from Randall’s, I free myself, and step away from the group. I start walking and weaving through tables, quite certain there is a sway to my step, so much so that it’s embarrassing and I can’t look at Jax. My God, what am I doing? This isn’t like me. This isn’t even close to like me. I cut down a hallway and hurry to the ladies’ room. Once I’m there, I push in to find it blessedly empty.
I lean on the counter and mentally replay that night I’d stayed in my father’s house alone after his death, digging through my memories for the man I knew, but all I find are secrets. His secrets that are no longer secrets. I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know if I’ve ever known who I am. I was just who they wanted me to be. Who he wanted me to be, which is why I did things to feel something else, something that was all me, something that I now regret. I look in the mirror and study my heart-shaped face so like my mother’s, my long brown hair streaked with hints of red, while hers is a rich shiny dark brown that I always envy. My light green eyes, her green eyes. I think of all the times she and I traveled together, scouted together. And while we were away, my father played and plotted in ways I can barely fathom.
I push off the counter, knowing that I’m about to work myself up and that will do me no good, not when I have to go back to the table. I apply lip gloss and then open the door and suck in air as I come face to face with Jax. A man so raw and male that I pretty much melt where I stand just looking at him when this isn’t my usual reaction to men. I’m used to rich and powerful men. I’m used to the games they play, the way they chase me for my name and family money, therefore, why would I melt? But there’s something different about Jax North. Maybe right now I’m just in a place where I need a fantasy, an escape, and I just want to believe he’s different, and so I do. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he says softly, and when I sway slightly, he catches my waist, his touch a searing brand. And Lord help me, the heat that rushes through my body tells a story. I want to branded by this man. “I thought you might need assistance.”
I swallow against my suddenly dry throat, against the heat burning low in my belly at his touch. “Because I was walking drunk?”
His lips, his really beautiful, somehow brutal lips, curve. “Because you’re surrounded by assholes.”
Words that would be funny if they weren’t so accurate. “I’m afraid that’s a perpetual problem I can never escape.”
“A perpetual problem we accept is a choice. We choose who we surround ourselves with.”
“You’re born into your family. That’s not a choice.”
Even in the shadows of this dark hallway, the blue of his eyes darkens. “I wasn’t aware the company you were keeping tonight was family.”
Just like that, alcohol and this man have exposed one of my secrets. My family is not my happy place. “Those people exist because of my family.”
“They exist because you choose to make
them exist.”
“Spoken like a man who aligns with his family.”
“Is that a problem for you?”
My brow furrows with this odd response and question. “Of course not. I was making a point. You don’t have to fight with your family.”
“Everyone has to fight with their family. That’s called the natural law of the land.”
“A man of wisdom and whiskey,” I say. “The latter of which exceeds my limits. A choice I made but nevertheless regret.”
“Assholes will do that to you,” he wisely concludes.
“Yes. All the assholes.” I laugh, a sincere laugh that surprises me. I haven’t laughed in, well, in a long time. “They multiply. The assholes that is.” I swallow hard and before I can stop myself, I’ve turned somber, and I’m adding, “Especially since my father passed.”
His fingers flex on my waist. “You could run away.”
“My father used to say never make a decision while running.”
“And mine used to say, never run from a decision,” he adds. “Sometimes standing still is, in fact, running from a decision.”
This conversation is now traveling to a place I don’t want to travel. “I should go.” I try to move away.
He catches my waist with both hands this time, the heat of his touch magnified by two, and when my eyes collide with his, the current between us is electric. “Don’t run from me, Emma. Run away with me.”
“They’re waiting for me.”
“You don’t even like them,” he says, his tone pure silk as he adds, “You like me.”
“I don’t know you.”
“Do you want to know me?” He lowers his voice. “Because I want to know you, Emma Knight.”
Everything inside me warms in ways that I haven’t felt warm in a very long time, but I’m not clear-headed. I’m vulnerable right now in ways that make this dangerous. My hand flattens on his chest. “I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“This,” I say. “Whatever this is.”
“Why?”
“Emma!”
At the sound of Marion’s voice, Jax’s chin lifts slightly, his broad chest rising with a breath. I step back from him, and his hands fall away. For a split second, maybe two, our eyes collide again, and I can’t explain it, but it’s as if we share a secret. A secret we can’t allow to be told.
And then suddenly Marion rounds the corner and launches herself in our direction. I turn to face her and find myself whisked into a hug. “I know this is a hard time for you. I know.” Her voice cracks with emotion that she might play off as losing a friend, but I know it’s more. I know the many ways this woman hurt my mother and I don’t know how I leave that alone.
I push back from her. “I’m fine.”
Her eyes narrow on my face. “You’re angry.”
“I do believe that’s a phase of grief.”
“Yes,” she says, after a pause. “I do believe it is. Randall is antsy for your return. I’ll just hurry into the ladies’ room.” She steps around me, leaving ice in the air around me as she does. A chill the man behind me will no doubt heat. I draw in a breath, preparing myself for his impact, but when I turn he’s not there. He’s disappeared down another hallway. Apparently, he didn’t want me to run away with him all that badly. And I wouldn’t have anyway.
Would I have? No. I would not, and yet that regret I felt when he stopped touching me is heavy and oh so undeniable. I rotate and start walking the direction I came from, but I don’t leave Jax behind. He’s already gone.
CHAPTER THREE
Emma…
I don’t wait on Marion. I round the corner and run smack into a hard body, but oddly, I know before I look up that it’s not Jax. This man standing in front of me doesn’t charge the air when he touches me. This man doesn’t stir a burn low in my belly. Jax does these things and when I look up, I find that this man is Randall. “What are you doing?” he demands.
“It’s the call of Mother Nature,” I say. “I went to the bathroom.”
“You’ve been gone a long time.”
“In other words, I have a time limit while peeing. Next time I’ll be more aggressive about the toilet line.”
“Don’t be a smartass,” he snaps. “I was simply worried about you.”
“Worry doesn’t sound like a reprimand. That was a reprimand.” I pull against his arm and when he lets me go, I feel relief not regret to such a degree that I wonder how I once entertained this man as my man. It was a time not so long ago, a time I feel that I was lost, when perhaps most would say now is the time of loss, and that loss is my father. I’ve lost him, but with him, I realize I’ve lost all that I thought knew of myself.
Randall steps to my side. “I’m just trying to keep you focused,” he says. “Focusing on work keeps you from focusing on other things.”
I don’t look at him. I don’t need him to tell me what I can or can’t do in the aftermath of my father’s sudden departure from this world. From what I know, he’s now higher up the chain of command, certainly above me, perhaps more so than he even knows, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t want what he wants. I don’t want to rule the world. All I ever wanted was—something else. Something I’m not even going to let myself entertain right now.
Entering the bar again, I glance toward the table where I’d sat with Jax but find it empty. He’s gone, and I don’t know how a stranger has somehow left me so damn empty. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe I’m just facing what was already there. Maybe a man and his whiskey made me stop running from the truth. I almost laugh. I haven’t finished running at all.
“We got you back and I lost my wife,” Monroe says as we rejoin him at the table.
“I’m right here,” Marion calls out and I’m whisked back into the hell of the one drink that somehow became two. I slow my drinking and order real coffee. With caffeine, the haze of booze still present, but it shifts. Now it numbs my senses just enough to makes the topics of the economy and the expansion of airlines and hotels tolerable. Funny how not that long ago, I’d have enjoyed such a conversation, once upon a time, when I wanted to please the king of our empire.
“Aren’t you opening a Bodega Bay location?” Monroe asks, looking at me.
“We are,” I say. “Whale watching, oceans, and wineries. It’s a perfect combination.”
“Are you going to open a winery to compete in the region as well?” Marion asks.
“We’re partnering with a winemaker, so yes and no,” I reply, sipping my coffee and deciding sobering up is not working for me. I need more North Whiskey. I need more Jax North.
“We’ll have to talk about a destination package,” Marion adds. “Bodega Bay and Breeze Airlines, a Knight/Roger partnership. Another perfect pairing between big named brands. Smart, don’t you think, Emma?”
A partnership that has defined much of my life in ways few could understand, but Marion looks at me with a spark of awareness in her eyes. She knows I’m not what I seem. She knows I don’t want that exposed. We both know that gives her power.
“Partnerships hold value,” I say, but I don’t add more. I want to shut her out. I need to shut her out because my past could hurt our brand. My past is blackmail material and I don’t know how to wash that away.
“We’re eager to explore any partnership with the Rogers,” Randall interjects, casting me a hard side eyes. “Perhaps we should plan a couples’ trip down there.”
Couples trip. As if he and I are a couple. That’s it. I’m done. “Speaking of which,” I say. “I have a crazy week ahead. I should hit the bed.”
“Of course, honey,” Marion chimes in. “This has been an emotional few weeks for you.”
Honey. My mother calls me honey. My mother, who Marion betrayed in ways no one should ever be betrayed.
“We should head to bed as well,” Monroe suggests, and with that, my singular escape is now gone and missed. I now must wait for the check that I’ll sign for accounting reasons and the conversation continues right
up until the moment we depart from the bar.
Eternally this process continues, but finally, we stand and I endure another hug from Marion. “We’ll do that Bodega trip together. Let’s talk about it at the fireman’s charity event.”
My teeth clench and I bite back a rejection. I have no idea when that is, but I’m not going. Not if she wants to talk about a trip we take together. She leans back to study me. “A girls’ trip will be amazing. Invite your mother if you like.”
Bitch.
Such a bitch.
Such a horrible person.
I want to smack her and even with that North Whiskey in me, I don’t. I just say nothing. “Bodega is wonderful,” is all I say.
A few minutes later, I step onto an elevator with Randall by my side. “Bodega is wonderful?” he challenges. “She offered to take a trip with you and that’s what you say?”
“I’ve hit my limit right now, Randall,” I say. “I need rest. I need an emotional timeout.” The elevator dings and opens, but I don’t exit. I turn to Randall. “I know my father wasn’t your father, but surely you can understand that this affects me. Tonight was about him. Tonight is not every night.”
With that, now I exit the car, walking to my right, toward my suite. I’ve barely made it to my door and Randall is there. My hand fumbles with the key and damn it, it’s now on the ground. I grab it and by the time I stand up, he’s closer. He’s so damn close. I rotate and he’s there, hand on the doorjamb above my head. “Randall,” I bite out. “Timeout means timeout.”
“I think you need someone to talk to. Let me be there for you.”
“Be there for me? You have been riding me like I’m a problem pet who won’t behave.” The elevator dings, a sound that echoes in my mind with the promise of company and an excuse to push him away.
“If I’ve been overbearing—”
“You have,” I say. “Step back.”
Instead, his hand settles at my waist. Instinct is instant and I shove him back. “Stop, Randall.”
He steps into me, that hand still at my hip, and anger surges through me. “Emma—”
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