“My name is Michael Knight,” he continued, his dark eyes never blinking. “As co-CEO of Linex Investments, it is with great pleasure that I introduce the man whose hard work and dedication brought us here today. I first met Kevin Smith as a fellow student at Harvard. Even then, I could tell he was someone special. Someone to pay attention to. And now, I’m happy to say that his new app, Spark, has exceeded all expectations. I’ll allow him to further explain.”
Emily watched, unseeing, as a man with a curly top of dark hair moved himself across the stage in a black wheelchair. Michael handed him the microphone and stepped back, the smallest hint of a proud smile on his face.
“There’s not enough I can say about that man, right there,” Kevin Smith said, pointing over his shoulder at Michael. “He’s helped me through some of my darkest moments. I don’t know where I’d be without him today. I certainly hadn’t expected this moment would ever come. The moment we get to unveil Spark. It truly is an honor.”
As Smith went on to explain his app, Emily felt a barrage of emotions go through her. Rage, indignation, and betrayal. She stared up at Michael, looking so calm and collected in his expensive suit, his gaze never leaving Smith’s back.
Her cheeks warmed as she thought about their last moment together — when she’d practically thrown herself at him. She’d thought he was so noble. So full of gentlemanly good virtue. But all this time, he was just a snake in the grass. There was no doubt that all his questions about her business had been in the hopes of stealing her practices. And she’d stupidly answered every single one of them.
She’d trusted him and he had stabbed her in the back.
❖
Once the last reporter’s question had been answered, Michael let go of the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Everything about this week had gone better than he could’ve planned. Smithy had made a brilliant breakthrough on the app.
His latest algorithm model had integrated the best psychological categorization methods with the techniques Emily’s company had used for decades to dig into what really made a person tick and what kind of partner would best compliment that— creating the very best matchmaking app on the market. Smithy was ecstatic. He wouldn’t stop spouting about it or pumping his fist whenever Michael came into the office.
Frankly, Michael didn’t understand a word of it, but they had impressed his father with the beta trials they’d run last minute, and that was all that mattered. The app was a go and according to first reports, it was going to make them a lot of money.
And truly, it was all thanks to Emily and her long-tested matchmaking methods. It really was too bad she hadn’t been able to save her business. But the truth was, the world was jumping on the high-speed tech track. Those who didn’t conform, got left behind. He hated the thought of her closing down her mother’s business. It had meant so much to Emily.
The woman he was falling for—hard.
There was no denying it. Not after he’d dropped by her office last week with the intentions of breaking it off and instead, found himself cradling her in his arms, wishing he could claim her mouth with his own. She was everything he’d ever wanted and more. An unbelievably sexy and intelligent woman who could match him step to step. She had a magnetism that drew him in and wouldn’t let him go. He couldn’t wait to see her again. He needed to see her again.
But this time, he would have good news to share with her. News that might ease the pain of the sudden closing of her business. It had been Smithy’s idea. Now that the app was public, he could tell her. He just needed to find the courage to apologize for his deceptions.
And pray that she’d forgive him.
He was in the middle of shaking a few of the reporter’s hands when someone tapped him hard on the shoulder. He turned and offered his hand to shake, but froze when he saw who stood in front of him. Emily Sevenson had planted her feet on the hard cement floor of Linex Investments, her hands on her hips. She wore a deep scowl that made Michael’s insides twist painfully. He dropped his hand and took a step toward her, pausing when she held up a hand.
“Lydia said I shouldn’t give you the time of day anymore,” she said through gritted teeth. “That you don’t deserve it. And after what I just witnessed, I agree with that statement wholeheartedly. But I deserve something more.”
He swallowed hard. “Emily, I’m so...”
“No, no. You don’t get to say those words to me.” Her blue eyes burned with betrayal, her lower lip trembling. Even when she was seething with anger, she was beautiful. “I won’t give you the satisfaction. You want to make yourself feel better. You think you’ll be able to sleep better at night if you just say those innocuous little words, but after the way you mistreated me, you don’t get that right.”
He gave her a pained look, wishing she could read his mind. He hadn’t meant for this to happen.
“You used me, Michael Knight.” She lowered her voice to a dangerous level as her cheeks burned red. “You used me to steal my business practices. Do you deny it? Don’t speak. All I need is a shake of the head.”
He hesitated for a moment, his brain urging him to lie. But he couldn’t do that to her anymore. She deserved better.
He shook his head and Emily gasped with self-righteous rage. “I knew it. This was all for show. The flowers, the car, the helicopter. You are something else, you know that? I’ll bet you were just tickled pink when I showed up on that first date. Couldn’t have planned it better yourself.”
He took a step closer to her, aching to wrap his arms around her trembling shoulders. “Emily...”
“I almost kissed you!” She recoiled and made a disgusted face, sending a dagger of self-loathing straight into his heart. “Just another part of your bag of tricks, of course. Keeping me blind to your true nature. Good job, Michael Knight. You played your part beautifully. You deserve an Oscar. Maybe you can display it in that ridiculous house your parents own. Right next to that overpriced selection of wine.”
He grimaced, feeling her words hit him like jabs in the ribs. She was right, of course. He’d used her. But everything else had been real. He just hadn’t meant to let it go this far.
“Michael!” Smithy came rolling up, his cheeks shiny red with happiness. “Dude, I can’t believe how well today went.” His gaze landed on Emily and he stopped suddenly, his eyes lighting up. “Is this the famous Emily Sevenson? Have you told her the news yet?”
“Oh I found out on my own, thank you very much,” she said, her gaze flicking uncertainly from his wheelchair up to his face.
Michael could see her anger faltering. Smithy had that effect on people. No one could stay mad long around his lovable clown act. It was an even more potent superpower now that he was in a chair. Michael could only hope it would work to his benefit. He wanted to explain everything, but not until she’d calmed down.
“Well, what do you say?” Smithy asked, opening his arms wide with a smile. “Michael’s not going to own up to this, of course, but it was all my idea. You can thank me later.”
Emily’s face turned crimson. She stammered a response and then looked up at Michael, her eyes narrowing. “Michael is responsible for his own actions. He is the only one to blame for how this ended.” With one last, scornful look in his direction, she lifted her chin. “Goodbye, Michael.”
Emily abruptly turned on the heel of her tennis shoe and marched toward the door, where Lydia stood watching them. The two of them hurried out of the building, leaving Michael feeling like he’d just had his intestines forcibly removed.
Smithy glanced questioningly up at him, the grin melting from his face. “Was it something I said?”
Michael shook his head and worked his jaw. Every nerve in his body screamed for him to run after her. To make her listen to the truth. But for the first time in his adult life, he felt powerless. She had every right to hate him. He had used her badly. His plan to get in and get out had blown up in his face.
Except, he wasn’t the only one who got caught in
the crossfire.
Chapter Eleven
Emily stared miserably at the screen of her phone. It was three a.m. and she’d finally had the nerve to block Michael’s number, but not before about a dozen texts and three voicemails came through, all of which she’d ignored. She had the tiniest bit of satisfaction in the fact that he was trying and failing to get her back. Michael Knight didn’t seem like the kind of guy used to failure. Maybe, this would teach him a valuable lesson.
She dug her spoon viciously into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s chocolate chip cookie dough and redirected her attention to her mom’s ancient box TV. Their old VHS copy of You’ve Got Mail played on the screen. This was her last week in the house. On Saturday, the movers were coming and next week, the home of her childhood would belong to someone else.
And Emily would be homeless.
She laid down on the couch and allowed the tears to roll down her face as Meg Ryan met Tom Hanks in the epic garden scene. It was so perfect. Two people, meant to be, finding their happy ending. Why didn’t those things happen in real life?
Why did reality have to be such a disappointment?
As the ending credits began to roll, her phone dinged with a message. Emily grunted and pushed herself up on the couch to stare blurry-eyed at the bright screen. It was from Lydia.
Need mint choc chip ice cream stat. Can you come over?
She shot up to her feet in an instant, adrenaline coursing through her veins. There was only one reason for a text like that and Emily knew she needed to hurry.
❖
Lydia opened the door to her apartment, black mascara streaking down her puffy red face. She waved Emily in and shut the door behind her with a loud, gasping sob. Emily dropped the bag of ice cream and pulled her friend into a hug, holding her until the sobbing came to a hiccupping end.
“What happened?” she asked, leading Lydia to the brown leather sofa in front of the fireplace.
Lydia dropped with a plop into the cushions and wiped her swollen nose with a tissue. “Edward and I broke up. We were discussing the wedding and he wouldn’t commit to a date. We got into this huge fight. I knew that he was just avoiding the subject, but he wouldn’t admit it. I mean, if a man won’t commit to a date, it means he doesn’t really want to get married. Doesn’t it?”
She broke down into tears again and Emily sat beside her, patting her on the back.
“I don’t know, Lyd,” she said, grimacing. “Are you sure he was avoiding it?”
“He told me he didn’t want to talk about it right now,” Lydia said, her chin trembling. “How clear can you get?”
“That’s pretty clear...” Emily replied with a frown.
“I knew this was going to happen. I just knew it.” Lydia threw the wad of tissue on the floor and huffed. “Two months isn’t enough time to know if someone’s your soulmate. I let myself get swept away by the romance. I’m so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid.”
Lydia might have been a serial dater, but she was anything but stupid. The fact that Edward had worked his way so far into her heart was really something. He’d broken through her walls. And by all accounts, he was a good guy.
But love was never simple.
Emily couldn’t help but let her thoughts drift to her own problems with men. With Michael, especially. It stung to think of his handsome face.
She wrinkled her nose and sniffed, looking up at Lydia with watery eyes. “If you’re stupid, then we’re stupid together. We both got duped.”
“Men,” Lydia spat, hot tears leaking from her eyes. “Why do we even try? I think I’ll take your approach from now on. I’m off the market. Officially. I swear on the Queen of England, that’s how serious I am.”
Emily’s eyes went wide as she regarded her friend with a small smile. “Okay...”
“No, I mean it.” Lydia hiccupped. “Just you wait.”
She tried to hide her disbelieving smile behind her hand. She’d believe it when she saw it.
“Don’t worry, the apartment is still yours,” Lydia said, swiping her hand across the quaint room. “I think it’s about time I had some change. Some people dye their hair after a break up. Lydia Ryan rents a new high rise apartment. That’ll be my coping mechanism.”
Emily’s jaw fell open as she regarded her friend with shock. “Wait, no. You can’t give up your apartment. You just broke up. And besides, I didn’t complete the deal. You said four dates. I only went on three.”
“By my count, you went on four.” Lydia held up four fingers. “First was Lorenzo’s, second was at his parent’s home, third was the coffee date, and fourth was the big breakup scene at Linex. You held up your end of the bargain. I intend to hold up mine.”
“But I could never afford it now,” she replied, biting her lower lip. “I’m unemployed, remember?”
“You’ve got six months to figure that out,” Lydia said with a small smile. “And if I know my best friend, she’ll be back on her feet in no time. Don’t make me threaten you. Take the apartment.”
Emily swallowed, feeling a wave of nerves and excitement wash over her. She looked around at the creamy white walls and the cozy fireplace and knew in her heart that this place belonged to her. She needed it. And it needed her.
“Has he said he’s sorry, yet?” Lydia asked, glancing innocently down at her lap.
Emily forced a laugh. “Who? Mister-billionaire-who-lies-for-a-living? About a million times. But I haven’t replied.”
She wrinkled her pert nose. “Are you going to give him a second chance?”
“A second chance?”
“Well, yeah.” Lydia glanced up at her. “What he did was a jerk move, but I think Michael really cared about you. The boy made a mistake, but maybe that wasn’t his only mistake. Maybe it was falling for you?”
Emily scoffed at the idea. She’d spent the whole day going over all the ways Michael had fooled her, she hadn’t even considered that he might actually have feelings for her. But now, coming from her best friend in a posh British accent, the words were having an effect.
A flicker of doubt lit in the back of her mind. Could Michael have really cared for her? She’d convinced herself that the steamy scene in her office had been nothing but a part of his devious plan to detract information from her, but this had been different from their usual interactions. The Michael Knight she knew had a great poker face. The man she’d nearly kissed that day had been nearly undone by emotion. Maybe, just maybe, there was something there.
“He was using me,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest with a grimace. “I don’t know if I can forgive that.”
“Well, weren’t you sort of using him, too?” Lydia asked, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, the only reason you were going out with him in the first place was to get my apartment. It doesn’t make what he did right, but maybe it makes you more likely to forgive?”
Emily’s frown melted from her face. Of course, Lydia was right. She had been using him, too. Not to the same degree, but she wasn’t entirely blameless. She wouldn’t have been in this situation to begin with if she hadn’t wanted the apartment so badly.
Lydia’s phone went off, causing her friend to scramble across the room at record speed and snatch it from the dining table. She stared at the phone, her dark eyes going wide.
Holding it up, she pointed to the screen. “It’s him.”
“You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to,” Emily said in a low tone.
Lydia took a deep breath, glanced down at her screen, and answered it. She held it up to her ear, listening for a full minute, before bursting into tears again.
“I love you, too, darling,” she said between sobbing breaths. “Let’s never fight again, okay? Of course, I still want to marry you.”
Emily chuckled to herself as Lydia took the phone call into the kitchen. She helped herself to the ice cream, digging out an extra-large chunk of chocolate. It was nice that things had worked out for her friend. She was happy for her. She really
was. Maybe two months was long enough to find your soulmate. She couldn’t judge.
After all, she’d found herself falling for Michael Knight in even less time. But then again, look at what happened there. She’d been hoodwinked by a professional. Maybe her own judgement was flawed.
She glanced at her phone, tempted for one second to unblock Michael’s number and listen to his messages. But the sharp pain that lanced through her chest made her decide otherwise. If she allowed herself to hear his voice for one second, she might never recover.
She needed to forget about Michael Knight.
❖
Michael gazed at his barely touched risotto and pushed it around with his fork. He inhaled the scent of garlic and bread, instantly thinking of Emily. She’d been on his mind all week. He’d left voicemails and text messages pleading for her to return his call, but it had been as effective as talking to a brick wall. Her office had been permanently closed. He didn’t even know where she lived.
It seemed that Emily Sevenson had moved on and left him sitting on the curb of her life, along with the rest of the garbage.
He deserved it.
“You are looking blue, my friend,” a cheery masculine voice said next to his ear.
He looked up to see Lorenzo rubbing his rotund belly and pulling up a chair to the table. Michael cringed, thinking of Lorenzo’s threat the last time he’d been here with Emily. Was the word out? Did everyone in town know what a jerk he was to that sweet, innocent, beautiful woman?
“I suppose you’re here to kick me out of your restaurant,” Michael said miserably, pushing the plate away. He took a hundred dollar bill out of his wallet and threw it on the table. “I deserve it. I broke Emily’s heart, after all. I’ll get out of your hair.”
Lorenzo laughed, rough and throaty. He smiled and gave a quick shake of his head. “The only broken heart I see around here is yours. You miss the girl.”
The Billionaire and the Matchmaker Page 7