by Luma Rose
“I shouldn’t have acted the way I did toward you and said those things, and for that I’m sorry.” My throat feels like it’s closing in as I try to push the words out. “I was hoping we could start fresh.”
She stares at me for a second and I’m fairly sure she’s going to tell me to go to hell, but then she blinks rapidly for a second and speaks. “I’m floored. I got the impression the great Garrin Stone doesn’t apologize.”
Of course she’s not going to make this easy for me. Why should I expect otherwise?
“I say sorry when I’m wrong, which doesn’t happen often.”
A small smile tugs at one corner of her lips. I might be getting somewhere.
“Why did you act that way toward me?” she asks after a moment, shifting in her seat to cross her legs and face me fully.
I lean back into the leather couch. “Does it matter?”
“It matters to me,” she says in a soft voice that holds more vulnerability than I would ever show anyone. Isn’t that the difference between us? I’m the angry beast and she’s the innocent princess.
I push a hand through my hair. At least I can be honest about this part. “Back in high school… I thought…” Christ, this is harder than I’m prepared for. I managed to get the apology out, which was a lie—surely the truth can’t be harder. “I thought there was something between us. I liked you—a lot—and I thought you felt the same. Then you agreed to go on a date with Asher. I felt betrayed, like you’d led me on and played a game with me.” I haven’t been looking at her as I spoke, but I turn my head to look her in the eyes now. “I don’t like being a pawn in someone’s game. Those feelings carried over, I guess, and I was caught off guard when I saw you, so I lashed out.”
She’s silent for a minute and then starts laughing and stands, pacing around in front of me. My forehead wrinkles as I watch her, wondering if she’s completely lost it. She keeps laughing to herself and pacing and I start to get pissed off. After everything I said, this is her reaction?
“I don’t think it’s funny,” I grind out between gritted teeth.
She stops and turns to face me. “I’m sorry. It’s not that it’s funny that you were hurt. It’s not. It’s just… I did like you. Truth is I was totally into you and hoped you felt the same, but then I heard that you had asked Tara Westover to the prom and I was crushed. I’d held out hope that you might ask me. So when Asher asked if I wanted to go out, I agreed even though he had a reputation. I just wanted to forget all about you.”
I stand from the couch and cover the distance between us in two long strides. She’s a fucking liar. “I didn’t ask Tara Westover to prom. I didn’t even end up going with anyone.”
A crease forms between her brows. “You didn’t?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Who told you I did?”
“I don’t remember. I just remember it was someone who’d know, so I didn’t question it. Plus, I mean, you and Tara were rumored to have hooked up at one or more parties.”
I take another half step toward her and she’s forced to crane her neck up to see me. “So you’re telling me that if I had asked you, you would’ve said yes?”
“Absolutely. Like I said, I was into you.”
“Fuck.” I spin around and push a hand through my hair.
All this anger and animosity I’ve carried with me throughout the years was for nothing? I want to know who told her I’d asked someone else to prom. The chances of finding out all these years later are slim, but I’m going to start with my friends.
“I guess it seems silly now, how hurt I was when I’d heard you’d asked someone else. But I was a teenager with no experience, and everything was so serious, so life-or-death back then.” I turn back around to look at her when I hear sadness creep into her tone. “It’s only now as an adult that I know what real life-and-death is about.”
I tilt my head and study her for a second. “What do you mean?”
She’s staring off into space and blinks a couple of times, then rests her gaze on me. “Nothing. Just that my reaction and the way I felt, the things I did to try and cover up how I felt, seem unnecessary now.”
I feel like there’s more to her statement, but I let it go. “I could say the same. I was so pissed at you for leading me on. I felt like a fool. Hell, I’ve carried that with me for years. Hence my reaction when I saw you again.”
“Well, then, there’s only one thing we can do.”
“What’s that?” I ask, drawing closer to her.
“Start over, like you said. Let’s put the past behind us.”
I wish it were that easy. There’s still so much she doesn’t know. My father’s voice rings in my ears. Get to know her. Get on the inside. He knows everything she doesn’t, which means I need to run with this.
“I’d like that. Why don’t you let me take you out? We can catch up and get to know the adult version of each other.”
Her smile is wide and welcoming, so I’m hoping she’ll agree. It will keep my father off my back if he knows I’m spending time with her.
“Like… a date?” The hesitation in her voice makes it clear how she feels about that.
“Like old friends catching up. You know, like you did with Everly Brookes last night.”
I ignore that little voice that’s saying stay away if she’s friends with Everly.
A small nod tips her chin down. “Okay.”
Relief lets my muscles untense. I pretend it’s because this will get my father off my back and not because I’ve just secured another opportunity to see Isla. “When are you free?” I ask.
She purses her mouth and looks up to the ceiling for a few seconds. “I’m just thinking over my schedule. I’d have to check the calendar on my phone, but Wednesday night might work best. I have several events in the evenings to attend to with Ford this week.”
“How’s the campaign coming?” I ask, like I don’t see the guy practically every morning in the Titans’ Den.
“It looks encouraging. He has his work cut out for him to beat the incumbent, but there’s a strong possibility he could win.”
I nod. “Why don’t you give me your number? That way I can text you and let you know the details for Wednesday night.” I slide my cell phone out of the pocket of my jeans.
“Miss Flores?”
We both look to our left at the interruption. A woman dressed in scrubs in her midforties, hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, stands there expectantly.
“Sorry to interrupt, but you said you wanted to know when you could go in,” she says.
“Yes, thank you. I’ll be right there.”
Something in Isla’s voice has me turning to look back in her direction. Her normally relaxed features are pinched, and a veil of sadness drapes over her brown eyes.
“Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.” She proceeds to give me her number, which I punch into my phone before sliding it back into my pocket. “I really need to go.”
It’s obvious I’ve overstayed my welcome.
“All right. I’ll let you know about Wednesday.”
She nods, mouth in a tight line. “You can see yourself out?”
“I think I can find the way.” I study her some more to see if I can figure out exactly what it is she’s feeling.
“Okay, I’ll see you next week.” She turns without a backward glance and rushes from the room.
I stand there for a second wondering who that woman was and exactly what she’s doing in the Flores household. The look on Isla’s face after she announced herself is seared into my brain. It shouldn’t bother me as much as it does.
Does it have something to do with what my dad knows that he’s not telling me?
11
Chapter Eleven
Garrin
By the time Wednesday rolls around, my father has already called me three times to find out what I’ve done about his request to befriend Isla. The first two times, I ignored him just to piss him off, but ultimately, I to
ld him I was doing his dirty work which satisfied him enough. I have no idea what he wants with her, so I figure I’ll just treat it like any other date—even if it isn’t one.
And it’s not. The last thing I need is Isla Flores getting under my skin again. Last time the results were disastrous.
“Mr. Stone, Harper is here to see you,” Roslin says through the phone on my desk.
I look away from the email I’m composing, telling our marketing department director to get his head out of his ass and figure out how to spin an article due to appear in the Business Times about the oil industry and how we’re to blame for all of mankind’s problems.
“Send her in.”
The door opens immediately, and my sister breezes in like the hurricane she is. “I hope it’s okay that I stopped by. I’m grabbing dinner with Cashmere and I was ahead of schedule, so I thought I’d come see how my big brother is.”
“You mean Katie?”
“Legally it’s Cashmere,” Harper says, but the humor in her tone says she might be her friend, but the fact that she legally changed her name and her parents allowed it is fucked up.
I stand from my chair and walk around my desk to greet her, embracing her when I reach her. “You’re always welcome to come by, you know that.”
It’s true. I’m all she truly has left of our family. After my mom died when I was nine and Harper was six, I swore I’d do everything in my power to take care of her. I knew enough even at that age to know that my father would never put us first in his life. He only ever looked out for himself, to hell with the rest of us.
“Have a seat.” I gesture to the sitting area on the other side of my office. “Do you want me to have Roslin grab you a drink, or do you want something from the bar?” I ask.
“No, I’m good.” She walks over to the large couch, looking every bit the socialite she is—designer clothes, manicured nails, cashmere coat, perfect hair and makeup. “I haven’t seen you lately at any events, and I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
I take a seat in the chair kitty-corner from where she sits. “You know I do everything in my power to avoid those things.”
She rolls her green eyes that remind me so much of our mother’s. “Well, you know that you can’t, not with who you are.”
“Don’t I know it.” I lean back and cross my leg, resting my ankle on my opposite knee. “What’s been keeping you busy? Still trying to be the queen of YouTube?”
“Don’t even start with that shit, Garrin. I hear it enough from Dad.” She leans back into the couch with an exasperated sigh.
“Well, that may be the only thing he and I will ever agree on. You’re wasting your life and talent on what? Telling others what to wear?”
My sister may use the word influencer, but it’s a load of shit. As soon as Facebook and Instagram took off, suddenly it was considered a full-time job to take pretty pictures and videos of all the consumables companies send you.
“Do you think it’s easy creating interesting content people want to watch when there’s literally millions of other options at their fingertips? You could never do it.”
I scoff. “As if I’d ever want to.”
“Can we not talk about this?” She crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes.
“You haven’t done anything since college. I thought at first it was just a phase until you figured out what you wanted to do with your life, but it’s been years.”
“God! You remind me so much of our father when you get like this.”
Irritation causes my hands to clench into fists. “That’s bullshit.”
“No, it’s not. He’d have me married off to the first rich prick around so he can parade me around charitable benefits and social functions and you… I don’t even know what you want from me.” She waves her hand in my direction.
“I want you to use your brain for more than just unboxing clothes and makeup and taking pretty pictures to post on social media. It’s not like you don’t have the resources to do whatever you want.”
She stands from the couch, clutching her small purse tightly in her hand. “I am doing what I want. Why is that so hard for you to believe? Don’t be pissed off just because I’m not stuck being Daddy’s errand boy.”
My office door opens, and we both turn our heads in that direction.
Asher steps into my office. As usual, he’s charmed Roslin into letting him in without pinging me.
“Am I interrupting?” He directs his attention to my sister. “Hey, little Stone.”
“No, you’re not,” Harper says. “Thanks for ruining my night, Garrin. Next time I have the urge to stop in to see my big brother, I’ll pass.” She stomps off past Asher, giving him a wide berth.
“Don’t I even get a hello?” Asher calls out, his eyes following her to the door.
“Go to hell!” My door slams shut.
I stand from the chair and push my hand through my hair on a rough exhale. I’ll give her a few days to cool off, then call her and smooth this fight over. I have no idea why I chose now to lecture her on what she should do with her future.
“What do you want?” I ask Asher, walking back to my desk.
“Who pissed in your cornflakes?” He sits on the other side of my desk and props his feet up like this is his damn office.
“What do you want?” I repeat and push his feet off my desk. They hit the floor with a thud.
“Can’t a guy just swing by one of his best friends’ offices to shoot the shit?”
“No. Some of us don’t spend all our time and money partying and actually have responsibilities to fulfill. Now what do you want?” I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest.
He chuckles, his bright blue eyes lit with amusement. “You’re just jealous. You should try my life. Maybe you’d lighten up.”
I clench my jaw and turn to my computer to shut it down. It’s almost time for me to head to the restaurant and meet Isla, and I’m clearly not going to get any more work done with this jackass here.
“See? Was that so hard to put the work away?”
“Asher…”
“Okay, okay.” He raises his hands in front of himself. “I was just wondering if you’d spent any time with Isla yet? How’s that going?”
My eye twitches when I cock my head at him. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious. Why is she back? Why does Dick the Prick care?”
I can’t even force my face to express anything other than boredom. This is not how shit goes on with my friends, and if he’s about to tell me he holds some torch for Isla, we might throw down like we’re in an MMA cage right now. “That’s the only reason?”
He leans forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his spread knees. “You don’t think it’s weird that she’s back here after all that time away and no one knows why? And now your dad wants something from her?”
“Of course I think it’s weird,” I say, my voice louder than I intended. “For now, I’ll do what my father wants to keep him at bay until I can figure out what his angle is. Which is why”—I glance down at my Patek Phillippe watch to check the time—“I have to go. I’m meeting Isla for dinner at Rendezvous.”
He gives me his annoying-as-fuck shit-eating grin and leans back in his seat. “Pulling out all the stops, I see.”
I roll my eyes and stand from my chair. “I’m not going to take her to get a Big Mac, Asher.”
He stands from his chair as I walk across my office to the closet. I pull my Burberry coat off the hanger and button the front, then wrap my cashmere scarf around my neck and pull on my leather gloves.
Asher’s standing near the door, waiting for me. “How far are you gonna take this?” he asks.
“What do you mean?” My forehead wrinkles.
“You planning to wine and dine her to get her into bed?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What do you care?” Fuck, he still has a thing for her.
“I just don’t want you losing sight of what’s at s
take here for pussy.” I tilt my head to get what he really means. He chuckles. “I mean, you’ve never been good at being second place.”
My hand stops on the doorknob and I stare at him further. “Second place?”
“Because my dick was inside her first,” he says.
Pure anger fills my veins and I want to go apeshit on him right now, but lucky for him, I was brought up to know how to hold in my emotions when I choose to.
I open my office door and wave him through first. “Don’t worry, asshole. I’m not interested in Isla Flores, and I know exactly what we all have to lose. Though I’m surprised you remember. You seem more coked out than usual these days.”
With those parting words, he walks out first, and I say my goodbye to Roslin.
I reach the elevator, and thankfully there’s no Asher joining me. Probably in the bathroom snorting more coke.
What a dick. Did he really think he needed to stop here to remind me not to get caught up in Isla’s charms? The last thing I plan on doing is falling for the woman. He thinks that I’d want to claim her because in his demented mind, I lost out to him in high school. The joke’s on him—I don’t do my friends’ sloppy seconds, so the minute she slept with Asher, she was off my list.
12
Chapter Twelve
Isla
I’m a little early, so when I arrive at Rendezvous, Garrin isn’t here yet. He had offered to pick me up, which surprised me, but seeing as I have no idea what to expect from this dinner, I thought it was better for me to have my own ride. Less complicated. If I somehow pissed him off during our evening and he treated me like he did when I first arrived, I didn’t want to be stuck in a car with him on the way home.
And so, here I sit at our reserved table at the outside edge of the circular dining room that rotates slowly on top of one of the city’s tallest buildings. Since it gets dark early still, I can’t see the mountains in the distance, but the lights below are almost as pretty.
“I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”