by Naima Simone
She didn’t immediately reply, but the heart-rending cry that she cut off reminded him of a wounded animal. He moved beside her, curling an arm around her shoulders and dragging her further into his side. She didn’t fight him but laid her head on his shoulder. Fear, anxiety, anger at the person who caused that sound swirled inside him like a dark, dangerous wind.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Tell me,” he urged.
“There’s another woman,” she croaked. “Matt is cheating on me. Has been for God knows how long.”
Shock reverberated through him. “What?” he rasped. “How…?”
She released another of those heavy sighs and shifted out of his embrace. Propping her elbows on her thighs, she cradled her head in her hands. “How do I know? Social media is not a cheating man’s best friend. You’d think a football player would know that everyone has a camera phone these days. So when he’s out partying with his boys, he might not want to motorboat the stripper for God and country to see.”
“Shit,” he growled. “Are you sure it was him?”
She loosed a harsh crack of laughter. “Yes, it was him. But just to make sure this wasn’t some alcohol-induced lapse in judgment, I flew down there last weekend for confirmation. I searched the house while he was at practice. I examined our credit card and bank statements and phone records more closely. Purchases for jewelry that I know I haven’t received. Hotel bills. Miami strip clubs. I called some of the numbers I didn’t recognize, and they were women. More than one. He tried to deny it, of course. But in the end, he admitted it. Blamed it on me, the athlete lifestyle, everything and everyone but his dick.” She shook her head. “How could I have been so stupid? So blind? When did I become one of those women that willfully ignored what was going on right under her nose?”
“You love him. Trusted him.” He leaned forward, uncorked the Scotch, and poured the alcohol into the glass. She deserved this. And that motherfucker Matt deserved the ass-kicking he had coming. Courtesy of Alex’s foot. “And he’s your husband. Why would you believe otherwise?”
“Was my husband,” she corrected. “I filed for divorce yesterday.”
“Kim.” He handed her the glass, and she took it, holding it between her thighs but not sipping from it. “Good,” he said, all the anger brewing in his chest toward her soon-to-be ex hardening his voice. “That son of a bitch doesn’t deserve you, and I’m five minutes away from flying down there and breaking my fist off in his face. Promise me you’re not going to change your mind about going through with leaving him.”
“No,” she said, voice fierce. “From the time I was old enough to understand, I knew I was a product of cheating. The lies, the broken trust, the betrayal, and pain—it poisons a person. Taints relationships. And seeing the effect on my mother… Cheating is a deal breaker for me. There’s no going back.”
“Okay.” He nodded, swept a hand down her ponytail. “Okay. And if you need me—to talk, to just sit here and listen, to fly down to Miami and beat Matt’s ass—I’m here.”
“I’ll remember the offer,” she said, a tiny smile curving her lips. “Anyway.” She leaned back against the couch, curling her legs under her. “How’s Morgan doing? I haven’t spoken to anyone since I…” Her voice trailed off as she peered at him through narrowed eyes. “What happened?” she asked, turning his question back on him.
He glanced away from that identical, penetrating stare and focused on the car chase occurring on the television. “She left.”
Kim set the glass on the table and shifted toward him. “Just like that? She left?”
Rubbing a hand over the nape of his neck, he related to his sister about the picture in the gossip column, the argument between him and Morgan, and how she’d walked out. When he finished, she didn’t speak, just stared at him. Then, retrieving the Scotch, extended it to him.
“Here. Seems like you need this just as much as I do.”
Without argument, he knocked it back. The smooth burn licked a path down his esophagus and bloomed in his chest.
Snorting, Kim shook her head. “I swear. If insight was lard, I couldn’t grease a skillet with yours.”
He barked out a hard crack of laughter, surprised. “The hell?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve been watching Dr. Phil reruns on OWN for the last three days. Sue me.” Picking up the decanter, she refilled his tumbler. “Alex, you know I love you more than anyone aside from my mother and formerly Matt, right? I definitely trust you more than anyone. So know when I say this, it’s with love… You’re an idiot.”
“Excuse me?”
“Please.” She waved off his cold remark as if flicking away an annoying insect. “Don’t go all CEO on me. You would stand by and watch the woman you love walk out and do nothing? That makes you an idiot.”
“What would you have me do? Ask her to continue to go through with our deal when everyone with eyes could see she’s still in love with her ex-fiancé?” He sliced a hand through the air. “No one would believe our story after that picture. It was better to just end it.”
“This has nothing to do with the deal for Bishop Enterprises, and you know it. You’re running scared.” She held up a hand when he would have interrupted. “No, let me. I’m sure you did enough talking to Morgan, and you’re still trying to figure out how to pry that foot out of your mouth. Alex, you are one of the most honorable, loyal, and even loving men I know, although you don’t show many people that side of you. Which is a shame. But I, more than anyone, understand why you close yourself in and shut others out. I get it. Between your mother, father, and Helena, why would you believe someone when they say they love you, that they would run through a wall of fire for you? And not because of your last name, or your net worth, or what gifts you can buy. Because of you. So I completely get why when you have that kind of love staring you right in the face, you don’t trust it and push it away.”
“This was never about forever,” he said, voice firm, as if trying to convince her and himself. “This was a business deal.”
She snorted, but a horrible kind of pity darkened her eyes. “Keep telling yourself that, but we both know that’s not true.”
“How can you possibly believe in fairy tales after what you’re going through?” he demanded, but without heat or spitefulness. He truly wanted—needed—to know.
“Because as hard as it is for me to admit, he wasn’t meant for me. I’ve seen love where faithfulness, devotion, and sacrifice were privileges, not albatrosses around a person’s neck. He wasn’t mine, and I have to believe in a world where this isn’t it for me. That belief is what’s getting me through. Well, that and Scotch.” Her mouth curled in that sad smile again. “You have so much to give someone—the right someone. Helena…she wasn’t the woman for you. But Morgan? Have you seen the way she looks at you? Like you are Christmas, her birthday, and a sale at Prada all rolled into one. No, maybe you haven’t noticed. Or maybe you didn’t want to. Because that would mean admitting you stare at her the same way. That you love her just as she loves you.”
It was too much.
Her words. The hole in his gut that had gaped open into a wide, dark abyss with teeth.
No.
He lurched to his feet.
“I need to go.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I have…things I need to take care of at the office. Are you okay?”
She sipped from her refilled glass. “I’m good.”
“I’ll check back in on you in a couple of hours. Answer your damn phone, Kim.” He leaned over her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Fine, fine. And you… Stop being so fucking stubborn.”
He didn’t reply, but with one last glance, exited her apartment and locked it behind him. But he couldn’t lock out their conversation, or his thoughts, as easily.
…
Twenty minutes later, Alex stepped off the elevator onto the floor of the corporate offices. He drew to a halt, the elevator doors closing s
ilently behind him as his father stood from one of the chairs in the waiting area.
“Dad,” he greeted, his voice revealing none of his surprise.
On a Saturday afternoon, most of the building was empty. If this unscheduled visit had to do with business, Malcolm would’ve come by on a weekday. No, that he’d shown up on a day where there would be few, if any, witnesses meant Malcolm didn’t want the conversation overheard.
“Alex.”
Striding past his father, he entered his office, leaving the door open for Malcolm to follow. Unlike his father, he didn’t need to seat himself behind his desk to gain the position of power in the room. Honestly, he was too damn tired to play games.
Perching on the end of his desk, he crossed his arms and met his father’s inscrutable stare.
“What brings you here, Dad?” he asked, though he could easily guess what had precipitated his trip to Boston.
Shrugging out of his overcoat, Malcolm tossed it on the back of one of the visitor chairs.
“New York isn’t that far from Boston, Alex, and the internet shrinks the distance even more.” Malcolm’s eyes narrowed. “Did you really think I wouldn’t see that little on-dit or the picture of your fiancée and another man, who happens to be her ex-fiancé, because it was on a gossip site? Do you care to explain what’s going on, or would you prefer I guess?”
“Everything’s fine,” Alex said.
“The hell it is,” his father snapped. “I’ve come to two conclusions. And neither sits well with me.” He moved forward. “One, Morgan Lett decided her ex was a better option and wants him more than marrying you. At least that’s what the picture indicates. Or two, you and she were never a real couple to begin with, and you hired her to gain control of the company. But if that’s the case, true love,” he sneered the two words, “must’ve reared its inconvenient head and ruined that plan.”
“So there’s no possibility that there could be a third option? That the picture is misconstrued. That what the photographer caught was a conversation between two people who once had a relationship and was clearing the air?” The same account Morgan had given him, and he’d rejected.
“Do you believe that?” Malcolm smirked.
His father’s reaction shouldn’t have angered him; Alex’s had been similar. But now…now he’d done nothing but replay that conversation in his office for the last week.
“You convicted me before even trying me.”
“You bought the building for me, but you didn’t have to pay a dime for what I would’ve freely given you.”
And her face as she’d uttered them… It haunted him, refused to leave him in peace. Her sadness. The awful…resignation. Even as that image taunted him, Kim’s voice floated like a specter through his head.
“Have you seen the way she looks at you? Like you are Christmas, her birthday, and a sale at Prada all rolled into one. No, maybe you haven’t noticed. Or maybe you didn’t want to. Because that would mean admitting you stare at her the same way. That you love her just as she loves you.”
Kim was right. He loved looking at Morgan. At the wicked gleam in her eyes right before she said something outrageous. The beautiful smile that lit up her face, changing it from stunning to breathtaking. The slim, curvaceous body that moved like a melody—unhurried, sensual, lovely. She reminded him of the books he adored. How he could read one ten different times and find something different, something new and undiscovered every time.
And like his books, she brought him joy. Excitement. Panic. Exhilaration. Passion.
Love.
He loved Morgan.
And because of his fear that she would eventually leave, he’d pushed her away first. In spite of her loyalty, her heart, and her compassion, he’d painted her with the same selfish brush as his mother and wife because he’d needed to protect himself…his heart. When it’d already been too late. Because from the moment she’d blackmailed him into keeping her job, he’d started falling.
And now…he’d fucked it up.
He rose from his desk, a sense of urgency rippling through him. Every second he spent here with his father meant another one wasted. Another one slipping through his fingers.
“Yes, Dad, actually, I do believe that,” he belatedly answered. “But also, your second assumption is correct. Originally, I did hire Morgan to act as my fiancée so I could become CEO. A position I earned time and time again, but you and the board decided I couldn’t have because of something as superficial as image. So yes, I was desperate.”
“Damn it, Alex,” his father snapped. “I can’t believe you would lie—”
“Yes, you can,” Alex interrupted. “You would’ve done the same, so let’s not pretend.”
“You know what this means, don’t you?” Malcolm moved forward, his face tight with anger. “You didn’t honor your end of this deal, so neither will I.”
Alex shook his head, cutting off the rest of his father’s tirade with a wave of his hand. “Save it, Dad. I’m not telling you the truth to throw myself on your nonexistent mercy. Being your son doesn’t give me a pass, just like Kim being your daughter hasn’t granted her one. I told you because I have a counter offer, and you can take it or leave it.”
He slid his hands in his pockets and pinned his father with a steady, unwavering stare. “I’m rejecting your ultimatum; I’m not signing that contract. I plan on finding Morgan and begging her to forgive me and marry me, but not like this. I won’t have her thinking I want her for any reason other than I love her. If you want to hand over the CEO position to another person who hasn’t sacrificed and proven they deserve it as I have, then go ahead. I will concede and leave Bishop Enterprises, and start my own company. You and I both know I can do it…and take clients with me. So your choice, Dad. Call and let me know. But later. Right now?” He strode forward past his father. “Right now, I have more important business to attend to.”
Leaving his father in his office, he exited.
That “more important business” was getting his fiancée back.
If she would have him.
Chapter Fourteen
Morgan walked into the Boston country club’s elegantly appointed ballroom. Round tables draped in red and decorated with gold and green garland and ornaments dotted the space along with chairs boasting huge red bows. A huge chandelier hung from the high ceiling, and the crystal wine glasses reflected the light, lending the room a fairy tale air.
She hated it.
“Ew. Who did they hire as a decorator? Snow White?” Merri griped. “Only things missing are fat mice and birds stringing popcorn from that obnoxiously large Christmas tree.”
In spite of the fact that Morgan was attending her stepsister and ex-fiancé’s engagement party, she grinned. “I believe the mice and birds were Cinderella, not Snow White.”
Merri scrunched up her face, tapping her bottom lip. “Nah. I specifically remember birds in Snow White.”
Shaking her head, Morgan threaded her way through the tables, searching out the table assigned to them. Hopefully, they’d placed her, Merri, and their mother near the back. This was going to be tough enough without having a front-row seat.
She hadn’t planned on joining her mother tonight. Especially after the week she’d had. But in the end, she’d called Cynthia, certain her sister had seen the gossip piece. Surprisingly, Cynthia had believed Morgan and ended up consoling Morgan. Jesus. The world had flipped on its axis.
The only bright spot had been Morgan accepting the position of assistant director of Phoenix House. She’d replayed the last few weeks in her head and decided she couldn’t allow fear to hold her back any longer. Without realizing it, she’d been facing down her fear of failure and overcoming it during her time with Alex. Fighting for her job, enduring the gossip. Charging to Alex’s house to bargain for Phoenix House. Taking on the daily duties at the nonprofit. Declaring her love to Alex.
That last one, whew. It’d been rough. But she’d survived his rejection. Every breath might feel li
ke jagged glass in her lungs, but she rose every morning, went to Phoenix House, excelled at her job, helped others. She was strong, deserving, capable. And it’d taken a long time to believe that about herself, but hey, better late than never.
And no matter how things had turned out with Alex, he’d been instrumental in helping her to see that.
“You know I’m only here for you, right?” Merri grumbled as they located their table, which thankfully didn’t sit near the front. It wasn’t in the back, either, but she could do this.
“Yes, I do, and for the tenth time, thank you,” Morgan said, tone saccharine sweet.
“You’re welcome. Although I still don’t understand why you’re here, supporting them,” she pointed out.
“Because, Merri,” her mother said, sitting on the other side of Morgan, “she’s being the bigger person. And I’m proud of you.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to Morgan’s cheek. “I really am,” she whispered.
“Thanks, Mom.” She smiled.
Being a bigger person. Meh.
Part of her wanted to show the people here that she had nothing to be ashamed of with that picture. It’d been innocent, and damn if she would go around hiding or ducking her head in guilt.
And the other part needed to be here to close this chapter in her life. She’d lived this drama for several months and, God, she was tired. Tired of hurting, of being embarrassed, of wallowing. After tonight, she was letting it go.
Well actually, she already had. The moment she’d fallen in love with Alex, she’d released the two of them.
More guests entered the room, chatting and laughing. Eventually, Cynthia and Troy arrived, and dinner was served. Before long, an hour had passed, and the end of the evening loomed closer. Relief poured through her. Yes, she’d agreed to attend, and the sight of her stepsister and ex together didn’t sting as much as she’d imagined, but hell, she wasn’t a masochist.
“Excuse me. Damn.” The voice, followed by a jarring amount of feedback as if a microphone had been bumped, echoed through the room. Her heart stilled, stuttered, then galloped. She knew that low, gravel-and-silk voice. But it couldn’t be… It was impossible… “I apologize for interrupting your party, but there’s someone here I need to see. Unfortunately, Morgan probably wouldn’t let me darken her doorstep since I screwed up, so this is the only place I could talk to her. Morgan assures me you’re a nice person, Cynthia, but what you and Troy did was still pretty shitty, so I figure you owe her.”