Hate to Want You

by Alisha Rai

  “No one would blame me.”

  “Because I’m so scary, huh.”

  “No. Because you broke into my home.” How had he broken in, anyway? Nicholas had a state-of-the-art security system.

  Well, he used to have one. He was fucking calling the company right after he figured out what was going on here.

  He wasn’t able to gauge any weapons in the other man’s big hands, other than the spoon he was holding. Gingerly, Nicholas placed his knife on the counter. “If you were hungry, you could have knocked on the door.”

  “You would have invited me in for cornflakes?”

  “Sure.”

  Jackson took a bite of cereal, crunching louder than necessary. “Liar.”

  Nicholas’s gaze narrowed. “I didn’t realize you were in town.”

  “Got in last night. Comfy couch you have, by the way.”

  “You slept on my couch?” Who the hell was this guy?

  “Wanted to make sure I caught you this morning. I gotta head out soon.”

  “Most people call and make an appointment.”

  “You wouldn’t have agreed to see me.”

  “Then you knock.”

  “You wouldn’t have answered.”

  “Then you would have gotten the hint,” Nicholas bit off. “That’s how society works.”

  “Never been very good at all that social stuff.” Jackson bared his teeth. “Not like you.”

  Nicholas gave up. “What are you doing here?”

  Another grunt. Nicholas’s eyes narrowed. “So you came over here to what? Sleep on my couch, silently eat my breakfast foods, and brood? Wild take on Goldilocks, Jackson.”

  Jackson took another bite, seemingly unfazed.

  “Have you seen Livvy or your mother yet?”

  Jackson picked up the bowl, and loudly slurped the milk. Nicholas gritted his teeth, well aware this was a deliberate rudeness. The man had been raised in the same social circle as Nicholas. Tani would have swatted him for such impoliteness, just like Maria.

  Jackson finally put the bowl down and stared at him. Christ, he looked like his brother, only a leaner, rougher version of the man. Not even the milk mustache on his face detracted from his generally vicious appearance. “The more important question is, have you seen my sister?”

  “None of your fucking business.”

  The chair screeched as Jackson shoved it back across the expensive tile floor. “I think it is.”

  Nicholas tensed, rocking up on the balls of his feet. Jackson had the air of someone who had never heard of fighting fair, but they had enough bad blood between them that Nicholas couldn’t say throwing a punch or two would be entirely unwelcome. “You’re mistaken.”

  “You haven’t seen her?”

  “No. You’re mistaken as to anything I do being your business.”

  A muscle in Jackson’s cheek twitched. “It’s my business when you fuck with my sister. I’m here to tell you to stay away from her.”

  The anger warmed Nicholas, loosening his tongue. “Aw, did you fly all the way here to play overprotective brother? How’s that role feel for you? New?”

  A flash of something hot and angry moved behind those dark eyes. “The fuck does that mean?”

  “It means I know you haven’t seen her since you left town.”

  “And you have?”

  He faltered. Yeah, actually, he had seen her consistently in the past decade. But no one was supposed to know about that.

  “Don’t try to lie. I know you’ve been with her.” Nicholas stiffened, but then Jackson continued. “I saw you dropping her off last night.”

  Last night. So he didn’t know about their unconventional arrangement.

  Still, Nicholas’s hand clenched into a fist. There was no need for him to feel guilty. Imagine if her mother had seen you. Imagine if your father had seen you.

  Would it matter? Would you have changed what you did with her yesterday?

  The answer to that was frighteningly clear. He couldn’t regret a second of what had come after he’d indulged that one feeling. Not when it had made him feel so good. He met Jackson’s eyes. “Don’t tell her you came to see me. Or that you saw us together last night.”

  “So you can keep on fucking with her?”

  “No. Because it would stress her out.”

  Jackson blinked. “Your concern for her is heartwarming.”

  “Don’t presume to know anything about me or my concern for your sister,” Nicholas said coldly. “You don’t know shit about us.”

  Jackson crossed massive arms over his chest. Jesus, what had the guy been doing over the past decade, bench-pressing cars? The Kane men had all been big, but this was excessive.

  “I know that you think there’s an us. I’m not too keen on there being an us when it comes to you and Livvy.”

  “And again—it’s none of your business.”

  Jackson rubbed his hand over his face, and Nicholas suddenly noticed the bags under the other man’s eyes. Livvy’s twin may have broken in and slept on his couch, but it clearly hadn’t been a restful nap. “I don’t like you, Nicky. I never really have.”

  “The feeling’s mutual.” Actually, he’d never given Jackson much thought. He and Paul had been fast friends from the moment they could walk. Before he and Livvy had been lovers, he’d adored her platonically. Jackson . . . Jackson had been way too distant for anyone to really be close to. Except Livvy. And maybe Sadia.

  “After you broke my sister’s heart when you dumped her ass ten years ago, my dislike turned to hate.”

  “I didn’t dump her ass, as you so disgustingly put it. It was a mutual breakup.”

  Jackson laughed, but the sound was without mirth. “Yeah right. Our father died, our mother checked out, your dad maneuvered a takeover, and you cut her loose.” He sneered. “It was a perfect storm of assholery.”

  It had been mutual, not that Jackson would necessarily know that. Nicholas didn’t much recall the aftermath, but the breakup, that was engraved in his mind. Livvy’s hair had been purple then, fading to lavender because she hadn’t bothered to color it in the two weeks since the accident. Her eyes had been puffy, face scrubbed clean of makeup.

  Telling her about his father’s threats was impossible, not when he’d been groomed his whole life to keep their family business private. Besides, if she’d known about the blackmail, she would have tried to tell him they could still be together, because their relationship was so fairy tale perfect, and wasn’t that how fairy tales worked? The prince and princess stood up to the evil wizard and life worked out?

  Be realistic, Nicholas.

  The truth would have only made things more difficult for both of them. So he’d convinced himself their ending things was the rational, realistic thing to do. He’d rehearsed a speech, suppressed every desire he had to fight for them both.

  They couldn’t have survived everything that had gone down. To believe they could would have been the height of fantasy. “Is that why you burned down the store that week? Because you thought I hurt her?”

  Anger twisted Jackson’s face, and he took a few giant steps toward him. Nicholas held his ground. He might not have the younger man’s brawn, but he wasn’t about to be pushed around by some . . . some . . . criminal.

  Alleged criminal.

  Whatever.

  “There it is,” Jackson sneered. “You’re nothing but a fucking robot in a suit. You never cared about Livvy more than you cared about the fucking business. I was the one who had to hold her after you broke her heart. I was the one who had to tell her she would be okay when she sobbed so much she threw up. I was the one who had to hide every pill in the goddamn house because she kept saying she wanted to die because you didn’t love her anymore. Don’t you dare tell me it was mutual.”

  Nicholas jerked. “What?” he rasped.

  He’d misheard Jackson. Surely that couldn’t be right.

  Jackson’s mouth tightened until it disappeared, and he took another step. This time
Nicholas backed up against the counter and let the other man shove him in the center of his chest, accepting the pain of his index finger. “Stay away from my sister,” Jackson enunciated. “Or I swear to God, you’ll wish I was only an alleged arsonist.”

  She’d wanted to die? His vibrant, sweet, rebellious Livvy? Because they’d broken up? No, Jackson was lying.

  Except Nicholas was good at separating lies from truth, and that had sounded pretty damn true.

  His vision blurred. He wasn’t in his kitchen anymore, but back in that clearing in the woods, standing a foot away from her. He’d refused to touch her as he spoke the final words in his carefully rehearsed speech. It’s impossible for us to be together now.

  And then, because he was human, he’d slipped, speaking the truth for a few seconds. They won’t let us.

  To cover, he’d blurted out the rest. I think we should end this.

  She’d nodded, pale and composed. They hadn’t hugged or touched, merely retreated to their respective homes. She had surely hurt, just like he hurt, but she’d agreed with him. She hadn’t even put up a token resistance.

  You made sure she couldn’t.

  Jackson grabbed his shirt in his fist and hauled him close, until they were nose-to-nose, bringing Nicholas back to the present. “Are you listening to me? Fuck with her and—” Jackson looked down and frowned.

  Nicholas glanced down as well. He hadn’t buttoned his shirt all the way. Jackson’s grip had revealed a smidgen of the mermaid Livvy had drawn on him yesterday, the green marker vivid against his skin.

  That was his, a souvenir of his time with Livvy, not to be shared. He shoved Jackson away, stepping back. This was all too much. One feeling. He’d been right to be wary of indulging that one feeling, because now he was being flooded with every emotion under the sun.

  There was no way he could bury them all and get back in the box.

  He needed time and space. And Livvy, but that wasn’t new. What was new was that he’d actually get to see her soon. Before they got together, he had to think, and he couldn’t do that with her brother lurking in his home. “Get out.”

  Jackson watched him for a second, then stalked to the back door. The alarm beeped, but didn’t go off. Disarmed. “Fuck with her, and I’ll fuck you up.”

  Nicholas’s jaw clenched, but he couldn’t speak, his mind still in a tailspin.

  “By the way, your security is shit, but it might help if you changed the code.” Jackson smiled. It wasn’t a comforting smile. “I guessed it on the first try.”

  Chapter 12

  LIVVY WAS early for her meeting with Nicholas, which was a pretty good indication of how nervous she was for it. Tardiness was more her speed.

  She came to a stop in the parking lot of Kane’s Café. She had vague memories of her dad’s parents, who had owned this small but popular establishment. Her grandfather had been as big as her dad with a similarly booming voice, her grandmother as sturdy as Maile with a soft lap.

  Once Livvy had asked her dad why he’d kept the café after they were gone. It hadn’t made sense, especially since their family didn’t need any income from the place. He’d ruffled her hair. Sometimes it’s okay to make irrational decisions because of sentiment. The café reminds me of your grandparents. He’d winked. Plus, it was the first place I saw your mother.

  It was here that her brother and Nicholas had taught her how to shoot milk out of her nose when she was nine, where she’d consoled Sadia when she’d broken up with that asshole Tim in ninth grade, where she’d had her first tea, her first coffee, and her first job.

  Livvy was in no hurry to get out of the car and face those memories, even if they were, generally, good. She rubbed her hands together to warm them. Winter would be here before she could blink and Ruthie’s heating system wasn’t the best anymore. One day, she’d have to lay her precious car to rest, and the thought had her preemptively choked up. She had a lot of good memories attached to this baby. Bad ones too, but the good outweighed the bad.

  Livvy took a deep breath and forced herself to look at the grocery store across the street. When she’d lived in any of the four states where Chandler’s had stores, she’d carefully avoided them, averting her eyes when she caught sight of that telltale font. Oh, but this store. This one was the most painful. The original, or at least, the store that had taken the place of the original.

  It looked the same, though they’d rebuilt it bigger. The Chandler name looked too large for the building, in the space where C&O had once perched.

  A flash of empathy for Paul ran through her. How hard must it have been for him to stay here and see this sign every day? She hadn’t expected to run C&O, and it still hurt to see the reminder that it wasn’t hers.

  She got out of her car and slammed the door shut, ignoring the way the thing rattled a bit. Livvy wondered whether it similarly hurt Nicholas to see the Kane name every time he came to Chandler’s. As CEO, he spent most of his time in the office, no doubt, but he was expected to frequent the first store.

  Like now.

  A tall, familiar figure was striding toward the furthest reaches of the parking lot. It appeared as though he’d decided to come early to their meeting as well.

  Of course he parked far away from the entrance, lest the boss take up a customer’s spot. Her heart leapt, then sank when she noticed the leggy blonde walking next to him, dressed sharply in a tailored business suit.

  Livvy tugged on her crop top, wishing she’d opted for something with a bit more coverage. It was fine. So her former love was walking next to a woman who looked perfect for him, like the living embodiment of the fake girlfriend he’d pretended he had. Big deal.

  What even was her life.

  As she tortured herself by watching, the couple stopped next to a car and Nicholas bent his head.

  No, no, no.

  He kissed her.

  Her breath strangled in her throat. Those lips that had captured her mouth last night were on someone else’s skin.

  None of your business. It’s none of your business.

  As if he felt her eyes on him, his gaze lifted over the woman’s head. Surprise flashed, and then something else, something determined and needy. His lips moved.

  Livvy spun, breaking whatever ridiculous hold he always exerted over her. She knew they were supposed to meet shortly, but she needed a second. She could either get in her car and drive away or head into the café.

  She chose the café, because damn it, it was closer, and it made slightly more sense.

  Besides, Nicholas wouldn’t come in here, surely. It was Kane territory. She’d have her second.

  Had she wondered where the pain portion of that pleasure-and-pain cycle was? Oh. It was right here.

  She stepped inside the café, the scent of baked goods and coffee not reviving her spirits. She wanted to go home and burrow under the covers, hiding from the world. Now that she’d watched Nicholas kiss another woman could she be done with him?

  It hadn’t been passionate. A peck on the cheek. He’d used to give her those as an afterthought, when he wasn’t going to see her for a couple hours.

  He hadn’t kissed her cheek in a decade. He’d kissed her on her lips—hot, openmouthed, passionate kisses. He’d sucked her nipples, bitten the inside of her thighs, licked her between her legs. He’d given her hickeys all over her throat and breasts.

  So why the hell was she envious of a peck on the cheek? Why did that feel like the height of intimacy?

  Her fingers itched to touch her cheek, but she kept her hand at her side and walked woodenly to the line, standing behind a teenager blasting music through his headphones. Sadia wasn’t in sight. Maybe she was in the back? Livvy could use a dose of her best friend’s steady, pragmatic wisdom right now. Or the other woman’s threats to shank someone for Livvy, preferably the perfect, svelte recipient of Nicholas’s kisses.

  She sucked in her stomach. Her arms, her pride and joy, were still sculpted as fuck, but she was starting to get a bit soft arou
nd the middle. That woman hadn’t been soft anywhere. She’d been tall. Elegant. Dressed perfectly.

  Livvy wrapped a strand of her hair around her finger. That strawberry-blond shade would look terrible on her, but she coveted it anyway.

  Stoppppp.

  She didn’t hear any footsteps behind her, but she stiffened, prickles of awareness causing goosebumps to rise on her arms. She didn’t turn around. Please go away. You can’t see me like this.

  Naked. Vulnerable.

  “Livvy,” he breathed, and she almost crumbled.

  It took her a beat too long to shore up her defenses. She stared determinedly at the teenager in front of her. The line was about six deep. “What are you doing in here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Hell, at least he was honest. “Someone will recognize you. There’ll be gossip. Scram.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Nicho—”

  "You look tired.”

  “Remember when we talked about how that’s a shitty thing to say to a girl?” she returned pleasantly.

  “I—I’m tired too.”

  She frowned and finally glanced over her shoulder. She took in his bloodshot eyes, the slight circles under them, and swiveled back around. Yes, he was neat and tidy otherwise, but he was telling the truth. He did look tired.

  “That was my cousin.”

  Her heart stopped, then started again. “What?”

  “That woman is my cousin. Shel?”

  “I can’t keep track of your cousins.”

  “Neither can I. She’s taking a position at the company. A tour of the flagship is standard.”

  She bit her lip. Her anxiety and upset edged away. “Oh.” She recovered her aplomb. “I didn’t ask who she was,” she said defensively.

  “If I’d seen you with someone, I’d want to know who it was.”

  “It’s not my business.”

  “Yes it is.”

  She cast him a sharp look. “What is with you?”

  He met her gaze steadily. “Damned if I know.”

  “You don’t want to be in here.”

  As if suddenly reminded of where they were, Nicholas looked around, taking in the café with the air of a man waking up from a dream. She did another quick survey. She didn’t spot anyone she knew, but that didn’t mean anything. It was quite possible someone in here knew her even if she didn’t know them.