by Kira Blakely
I balled up a fist. “Please, go sit back down, Mr. Simmons.”
Guy’s expression darkened. “I’m trying to be helpful.”
“I understand that, but you’re also encroaching on my space, and that’s not helpful at all.”
He lifted his hand and brushed the backs of his fingers down my cheek, lower, to my neck.
I froze up, disgust cruising through every cell in my body. I shoved my chair back and got up, stumbled back a step. “It’s time for you to leave,” I said. “Leave the script here with me. But leave the office.” How would I work with him after this? God, I’d have to, wouldn’t I? I’d have to suck it up and do this if I wanted the business to succeed.
I tasted bile in the back of my throat. This wasn’t OK. This wasn’t OK. The sentence kept repeating in my mind over and over again, but there was nothing I could do.
“You need me, Margot,” Guy said, and he rose too. He moved toward me, arms outstretched, patting the air as if I were a wild animal to be tamed. “You need the show. It would be seriously unwise of you to do anything that could jeopardize Get Ink’d’s future with SBC.”
“Is that a threat?” Of course it was.
“No, of course not. All I’m saying is that things work a certain way in this business, especially for people like you.”
“Women, you mean?” I flushed hot with anger this time, balled up my fists.
“I guess you could put it that way. I’m a powerful man, Margot. I’ve made and broken shows at whim.” He was too close. He grabbed my arms, moved toward me, his face, his lips, his disgusting cheesiness eclipsing everything in my office.
I was paralyzed with fear. Kick him. Fucking punch him. Do something! Stop panicking!
The office door crashed inward. “Motherfucker! I’ll fucking kill you.” Cain’s voice penetrated the horror of the moment.
Guy’s face jerked backward, away from me. His hands clawed free of my arms.
Cain dragged him from me, kicking, spun him around and gripped the front of his collared shirt, drew back a fist.
My jaw dropped. I couldn’t move a muscle once again.
The scene unfolded in front of me, almost in slow motion.
Cain drew back his fist, lips curling back in a rictus. Guy’s eyes widened, and he paled, tried raising his arms to cover himself. My mouth was dry, no words came, and what would I say? “Stop”?
Cain’s fist whipped forward and a sickening crack-crunch split the air.
Guy yelled and covered his face. Cain aimed for the stomach next, and the Current Executive crumpled forward and gripped his stomach instead. Another fist, another. Punch in the stomach, the side.
Guy fell to the floor, groaning, and Cain drew back his foot.
“No!” I managed. “Cain, stop. Stop! Don’t do this.”
He stalled mid-kick and looked over me, so much rage in his expression it sent cold terror spiraling through my middle. I didn’t recognize him. That wasn’t my petty frenemy from high school. He wasn’t my infatuation. He wasn’t the man who’d made me orgasm.
The person in front of me was a beast, his knuckles cracked and dripping blood. “Stop? He tried to— Fuck, I won’t stop. I said I’ll kill him, and I’ll fucking do it.”
“You can’t,” I said, and ran forward, latched onto his arm and tugged on it. “I won’t let you.”
He searched my face, eyes flicking back and forth in his skull, as scumbag Guy groaned on the floor. Cain’s anger hadn’t faded. “He touched you.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Cain trembled beneath my touch, his entire body rippling as if his skin would rip and the beast would appear in full. He wrenched his arm from my grip, and turned on Guy.
“Stop,” I said, feebly. “Cain, just go outside, OK? I’ll call the cops. You go wait outside.”
“The cops?”
“He’s hurt, this is— It’s a disaster.”
The man who’d defended me lifted his gaze to mine, betrayal spilling from him. “If that’s what you want,” he said, then turned and left.
Guy lifted his head and squinted at me, through eyes that had already started puffing over. “It’s over, Margot. I hope you fucking know that. I’m going to have your partner put away for years.”
Chapter 25
Cain
The knock at my apartment door didn’t surprise me.
I didn’t answer it, simply took another swig of my beer and accepted the shooting pain in my knuckles. I still hadn’t gone to the doctor, but I’d been in enough street fights to know that I hadn’t broken my hand. Split skin and blood didn’t faze me.
The knock rat-tatted again.
“Fuck off,” I yelled.
“Cain, it’s me.” Margot’s voice traveled through the door, to me, crept into my space and my mind. I ground my teeth. “We need to talk about what happened.”
I downed the last of my beer and slapped the bottle down on my coffee table. I pushed off the sofa and walked to the door, jerked the chain back, then wrenched it open.
Margot stood there, wearing her Get Ink’d uniform and an expression that curdled my rage, turned it soft and lumpy. Weak. Her eyes were puffy and red—she’d been crying—and she dragged her teeth across her bottom lip, constantly.
My hand twitched, but I kept it my side, didn’t reached for her, though that was the gut reaction right now. To take her, tug her to my chest, and whisper into her ear.
“He’s not pressing charges against you,” Margot said.
“Huh?”
“Guy,” she replied.
“Don’t. Say. That dick’s name. Here.” I bit the words out. My anger amalgamated again and streaked through me.
“Cain, he’s not pressing charges because I threatened to report him to his seniors for sexual harassment if he did,” Margot said. “It’s over, though. He—he’s pulling the plug on the show.”
That didn’t help. I punched the wall, and pain screamed through my nervous system. “Motherfucker.”
“You’ve got to calm down,” she whispered.
“Is that really what you want? Me to calm down?” I took her by the arm and dragged her across the threshold of my apartment, then slapped the door shut behind her. I didn’t bother locking it.
“Yes, that’s what I want.”
I walked into the kitchen, wrenched the fridge open, and brought out two beers. She followed me in. “It’s finished,” she said.
“Yeah.” I held out a beer to her, but she shook her head, so I shrugged and popped the cap on it. I glugged it down, relishing the burn in the back of my throat, the coolness that slid down with it.
“Cain.”
“What?” I asked, stifling a burp. I slapped both bottles down, and the open one fizzed over and slopped beer everywhere. I didn’t bother cleaning it. “Why are you here, Margot?”
“I wanted to thank you for trying to help me, today.”
“Trying?”
“Well, for saving me from whatever Guy was about to—you know.”
“You didn’t seem all that grateful today,” I replied, blinking through the haze that had settled over my eyes. I placed my palm on the top of the counter and glared at her—this was my sixth beer in the last hour. Why not have a little fun, eh? I didn’t have a hot tub, but I could always call my driver over and have him take me to a hotel.
“What do you mean?” Margot asked, and crossed her arms across those perky tits. The ones I’d sucked on, the nipples I’d pinched. She was already closed off from me, and this only confirmed it further.
“I mean, you weren’t fucking grateful. How else should I put it, Margot? Do you want me to spell it out for you? Shall I kiss your ass while I’m at it? Would you like me to do a little dance and fucking song to break it down for you properly?” I made mock spirit fingers and waggled them at her. “What don’t you get?”
Margot ground her teeth. “I was grateful.”
“Then why did you stop me? That assfuck deserved to be beaten to a pu
lp. He deserved to have his face rearranged so that he’d never smile again without striking fucking fear into the heart of every woman he encountered. He deserved to be as fucking ugly on the outside as he is on the inside.”
Margot’s bottom lip quivered, and she clenched her fists, released them, clenched again.
“What?” I asked and snatched up my half-empty bottle, downed the rest. “What? Margot? What?”
She still didn’t speak.
I lobbed the beer bottle at the chrome trash can in the corner and missed. It struck the edge and hit the wall, then the floor, where it split and shattered.
She let out a tiny yelp. “What the hell! Why can’t you be normal for once? Just talk to me like a normal person instead of acting out and throwing things like a goddamned toddler.”
“I’m not normal,” I roared at her. “I told you that in the beginning, before all of this happened. I warned you. I fucking warned you.” I crossed the space between us and clamped my hands down on her arms, pierced her soul with my gaze. “But what would have happened today if I hadn’t been around, Margot? What the fuck would have happened without crazy Cain there to keep your ass safe?”
She looked away and teared up again.
Fuck, I didn’t want to be the one to make her cry, but I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t hold back the anger that I hadn’t been there to keep her from going through what she had today. But I hadn’t been there—I’d been home, deciding what to do. To stay or go. And my indecision had meant Margot paid a price she should never have had to pay.
It hit me in the gut. Being impulsive had its positives, all right.
Finally, her lips parted and words poured out. “I stopped you today because I was scared for you, Cain. I didn’t want you to hurt him anymore because if you did, you’d end up in jail, and we—”
“We, what? What? Say it, Margot. What do you want to say?”
“Nothing.”
“We would be over? Is that it? If I went to prison whatever psychofuck relationship we have going on would be over, right? That’s what you wanted to say.” It hurt pushing her like this, it hurt that pushing her away now was the only way to protect her.
“Maybe,” she said and raised her head.
“So, you’d stick with me when I act like a good boy, but the minute I do something you don’t approve of, you don’t want me around anymore, that about the size of it?”
“No!”
“Right,” I said and released her, then backed up a few steps. “Fuck, I always knew this would happen. I knew that wanting you would come back to bite me in the ass.”
She backed up and folded her arms. “This is out of hand. I came to tell you the news and that’s all. I don’t need to talk to you about anything else.”
“Oh yeah? And what’s the news, Ms. Professional?”
“Don’t be a cock,” she snapped. “Control yourself for once.”
“Jesus, you’re pushing me too fucking far.” My biceps rippled, and I reached for the other bottle of beer.
Margot flinched, and it only made me feel worse. This was what I was to her. I was this irrational, crazy asshole who might fly off the handle at any given moment, at the slightest provocation.
Was that really who I’d become? Surely, it wasn’t who I’d been all along. The only thing I was sure of was that I wanted her safe. I didn’t ever want her hurt or threatened, like today. The only time I felt sane was around her. The only time I was calm. But there was always the chance it wouldn’t last, and what then?
“The news,” Margot said, and gulped audibly. “The show’s been canceled. It’s over, as I said. Guy’s not pressing charges but he’s advised the network that you’re too much of a loose cannon and that I’m basically your enabler.”
Christ, if only she hadn’t stopped me. I popped the cap on the next beer and drank deeply.
“Stop it, Cain. Just listen. You don’t have to drown yourself in beer.”
“Sweetheart, in what world do you think you have any say over my actions? I’m your business partner. I’m not your boyfriend. I’m not one of your family members. I do what the fuck I want. That’s the way it always has been and the way it will stay,” I said, though every cell in my body screamed that none of it was true.
Fuck it, I’d do anything for her, even if it meant pushing her away so she wouldn’t be a part of who I was right now. Push her, push her, goodbye, Margot. Go live a happy life without Cain at you side.
“Clearly, you’re not too concerned about what’s going on at the shop either. After you left today, we lost one of our long-term customers. You were supposed to finish his sleeve.”
Of course. “I was a little preoccupied.”
“I can see that,” Margot said, and shifted her gaze from me to the bottle in my grasp. “Obviously, things are going to have to change in the shop, and I suppose now isn’t the time to have a full-fledged business discussion about it.”
“Fuck it, why not? It’s not like I’m drunk or anything.”
Margot turned to leave.
“Don’t you fucking go until I tell you to.”
“Who do you think you’re talking to?” she snapped back. “You tell me that you’re not my boyfriend and I have no say over your actions but tell me what to do in almost the same breath? Fuck you, Cain. Fuck you for everything that’s happened.”
“Everything?” I tilted my head and studied her, a languorous gaze that swept up and down her body. A reminder.
She didn’t flush, soften, or even harden. She looked at me as if this was the first time she’d seen me, eyebrows arched. Margot tied her blonde hair into another of her trademark messy buns, her gesture for “I mean business,” then cleared her throat. “I’m going to go to a bank and get a loan, and then I’m going to buy you out. Clearly, you’re not interested in the shop. You’re only in this for yourself, whatever that looks like. I appreciate what you did for me this afternoon, and you can rest assured that I won’t be having any closed-door meetings with anyone else from now on, but I want you out of my business, Cain.” She took a single step forward and pointed that dainty index finger at me, tipped with a short-cut nail. “I want you out of my business and out of my life.”
“Neither wish granted by the genie,” I said and held the bottle out. “Rub it again and see if you get a different answer.”
“Why? You just said you’re not—”
“It’s still half my business, and it will stay that way,” I replied. Was it a last-ditch attempt to hang onto a piece of her? Or just to appease Mr. Begay? Or because it felt like mine too. I’d put in hours there. I’d been her father’s apprentice.
I had to push her away, yeah, but that didn’t mean I wanted to, that I liked who I had to be to get her to leave so I couldn’t burn her like I’d burned Get Ink’d.
“Please,” Margot said. “Please, Cain, it means everything to me. I—you’re just not good for business. You’ve got to understand that. I need you to stay away. I need to recoup what I have so I can—”
“I’m keeping my half,” I said, and slammed the bottle down, walked up to her and towered, looking down my nose at her beauty, the smooth curve of the tip of her button nose, her sparkling blue eyes, whites intersected with red cracks, like a map with too many roads traveled. “But don’t worry, Margot, you won’t see me around.”
She licked her lips and looked at mine. She trembled, tears welled, and she swallowed. “Good,” she whispered.
Chapter 26
Margot
I’m keeping the business, but I’m not keeping you.
When it came down to it, that was what Cain had meant last week. That he’d keep his thumb stuck in Get Ink’d’s pie, but that whatever we’d had wasn’t anything more than the fling I’d said I’d wanted all along.
Except that had been a straight-up lie. To myself and to him. I wanted so much more than just a fling with Cain, or I had until he shoved me back emotionally and basically laid it out that what I felt for him didn’t ma
tter.
I bit my bottom lip, squeezed my eyes shut, sighed, and acclimated to the office, tried erasing all the memories of us in here, on the desk, me on my knees for him, the way he’d cleaned me up and held me, and how he’d “protected my honor” in an old-fashioned sense, which had been totally overwhelming, appreciated, and frustrating all rolled into one.
A knock sounded at the door, and I opened my eyes, squared my shoulders. “Who is it?” I called out. Yeah, maybe I was a little paranoid about letting people into my office now, but what the hell, it was warranted.
“It’s Nat. I made you some coffee.”
Oh god.
“Come in,” I said, then dragged the tablet on the corner of my desk toward myself and unlocked the screen. I’d left a list of our regular clients on it and had determined to send them updates on the store and to thank them for choosing us as their parlor.
Basically, I was a kiss-ass.
The door opened, and Nat shuffled in with a cardboard cup holder and two Styrofoam cups ensconced within it. The coffee vapors steamed from the tops and teased me.
“Oh wow, you went out for coffee?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Nat said. “I figured you needed it. Ha, I had you fooled, though, didn’t I? You totally thought I made you another of those crappy coffees again.”
“Who said you made crappy coffee?”
“Some asshole,” Nat replied. “Don’t worry about it.” She took one of the mugs out and handed it to me. “See? I even got them to Sharpie your name onto it with a little heart.”
I accepted the cup and set it down, then turned it until I caught sight of the name on the front, just above the store’s logo. “Margarine?”
“Hey, beggars can’t be choosers,” Nat said, then sat and showed me the name on her cup. “At least, you’re not Nut.”
“Nut is closer to Nat, than Margarine is to Margot,” I said, and took off the lid, inhaled the scent of hazelnut. “Oh god, hazelnut macchiato?”
“Who loves you, babe?” Nat asked. “Maybe the barista has a food fetish.”
“Well, with a label like ‘Nut,’ you know he’s got some type of fetish,” I replied.