Twisted Knight, page 23
The call ends on those poignant words. Words that replay in my mind over and over as I stare at sparkling diamonds and sapphires.
How did this happen?
How did I begin to like Holden Knight—well, more than like him—when every single part of me should hate him?
How did each interaction—the banter, the verbal sparring, the professional discussions, the dirty talking—build a bridge of mutual respect? The attraction was there from that first night. There was no mistaking it then or now. But now, it’s fueled by a desire of knowing what his kiss tastes like. What his hands feel like. The type of lover he is.
I groan in frustration, making Winnie angle her head to the side and stare at me.
I don’t catch feelings for people. I don’t like to. I don’t want to. I’m too damn busy and have too many things to accomplish before deciding that it’s okay to start focusing on someone else. To prioritize another person.
We haven’t even been on a date yet, and I don’t want to. That’s just a setup for a fall over a cliff.
We have office banter. We have bathroom kisses. We have diner conversations over milkshakes. We have elevator seductions.
That’s it.
That’s all.
Yet … it feels like Holden is suddenly everywhere in my life. My office, my gym, my thoughts, my space. And even with all of that, I still like him, a man who knows way too much about me and doesn’t give much away about himself.
Sleeping with the enemy.
Isn’t that what my friends called it earlier?
With a shake of my head, I walk over to the earrings, snap the box shut, and make the decision to indulge in a bit more wine.
It’s not every day I throw caution to the wind and contemplate going for it.
I raise my glass to nobody.
Here’s to having fun.
To some good sex with a wickedly handsome man.
To jumping feetfirst into the gray.
Nothing less.
Nothing more.
THIRTY-THREE
Holden
I stare at the expanse of land. Tall grass stretches for as far as the eye can see while clumps of trees dot it in several locations.
“You’re taking care of yourself then?” my mom asks, her voice booming around me on the car Bluetooth, pulling my back to the present.
“Of course I am. Everything is fine.”
“No, it’s not,” she says. “You’ve been avoiding my calls. That’s how I know.”
“I haven’t been avoiding them, I’ve just been busy.”
“I still don’t understand why you up and decided to buy a company there, of all places.”
I give a nod she can’t see. Her knowledge of my plans is limited, as I prefer it to be until all is said and done. “You know me. Nothing I do makes sense until it does.”
“I’m not your employee nor your corporate enemy, Hold.” She laughs it off, but I can tell it bugs her that I’ve been so vague. She didn’t want me coming back here. She didn’t want me reopening old wounds. “It’s not like you have to keep secrets from me.”
“Is it hot there?”
Her laugh, deep and rich, comes through the line. To this day the sound of it still makes me stop and listen. It had vanished for so long after everything that it was almost like she’d forgotten how to use it.
But she didn’t.
And as she warmed up to using it again, to living again, I grew cold inside. Cold with a promise I’m now here to follow through with.
“It has been warm, yes. I’m your mother. Do you think I don’t know when you’re changing the subject?”
“That’s why I wasn’t being subtle.”
“Yes is the answer to your question. It’s gotten considerably warmer. I’ve had to put shade over some of my roses to protect them from getting burned. Tank won’t stay out of the damn pool and his fur keeps clogging up the skimmer.” She acts annoyed but I can hear the love in her voice.
“And Graham is good?” I ask of her husband. A good guy all around who treats her how she deserves to be treated and makes her smile even more.
“He’s wonderful. He’s at the museum today. A lot of field trips before school gets out.” She chuckles. “Such is the life of a volunteer art docent, right?”
“Too many kids,” I mutter.
“Says the man who was the best big brother in the world.” Her voice grows softer with each word, and when the entire sentence is out, we both fall silent as memories collide with the pain that’s buried just below the surface.
I clear my throat in response and focus on the hummingbird that’s hovering near the hood of my SUV.
“Have you been to see him yet?”
I close my eyes for a beat and try to find my voice. “Not yet. I’ve driven past numerous times, but it’s almost easier to keep going than to stop.”
“You’ll go when the time is right. If you want to go at all. It’s also okay not to.”
“I know. I just … I don’t know.”
It’s not like I don’t know that Mason is buried beneath the slab of stone. It’s not like I’ve ignored it for all these years and I’m just realizing he’s dead. But there’s something about being back here as an adult, as a man who has accomplished everything but still failed at keeping him safe, that makes it harder than hell to see him like that.
To know that one decision, one exception to the rule, one selfish moment, changed our lives forever.
For the worse.
And no matter how much I accomplish or how much money I have, nothing will ever bring him back.
There are no amends to be made.
No second chances.
There’s just fate’s cruel hand and a guilt that has rested on my shoulders for what feels like a lifetime.
“Being back there was bound to churn stuff up, honey. I just wish I was there to help you.”
“Thanks. I’m fine. Really.”
“Mm-hmm,” she murmurs in that way of hers that tells me she doesn’t exactly believe me. “You’re always fine, Hold. It’s okay not to be.”
“Yep.” I run a hand through my hair. “Look, I have to go. A meeting.”
“Of course. There’s always a meeting when things get too real.”
“Mmm. I know. It’s easier that way.”
“To avoid talking about it? Yes. But … at some point, you have to forgive yourself.”
“Gotta go,” I say with a laugh that follows. A laugh she can see through.
Her silence tells me she knows I’m lying. “Take care of yourself.”
“Always. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
My sigh is heavy as the call ends and silence smothers the car once again. The million things I have to do are forgotten for a bit as I relive memories and reapply the guilt that has clung to me like superglue my entire life.
The guilt that will follow me to the grave.
I jump when the truck pulls up beside me sometime later, scattering the ghosts in the car back into their hiding places.
It took a little longer than I thought for him to show. From the reports I’ve gotten, he’s being paid for every approach of prospective buyers he sees sitting out here.
I glance over as the older gentleman gets out of his truck. His well-worn cowboy hat sits high on his forehead, revealing a mop of shaggy white hair that’s tinged yellow. His nose and cheeks are reddened by rosacea, but his blue eyes are wide and his grin is sincere as he tips his hat at me and waits for me to roll down my window.
I do just that. And the minute it’s down, he steps closer. “Can I help you with something?” he asks, his big belly leading the way and his eyes taking in my Rolex, my luxury SUV, and judging.
“Tell me about the land for sale.”
“WillowBend is what we call it. I’m just the neighbor giving a helping hand to its owner trying to sell. I can call the real estate agent and set up a meeting for you, if you’d like.”
“No need.” I climb out of my car and shut the door. His eyes roam over my dress shirt and slacks. They say he’s not sure what brand they are, but he knows they’re expensive. “They’ll try to sell me and talk in fancy terms I don’t understand. Major turnoff.”
“Yes. I know. I get it. Same thing happens to me. The owners … I could call them direct for you if you’d like.”
“Really? What a kind neighbor you are. I sure hope you’re getting some kind of commission for your good deeds.”
He chokes out a cough. “No commission.” His smile is quick and masks the lie.
“No? But if they can sell this land then your land goes up in value, no doubt.”
He twists his lips as he stares at me, realizing I won’t buy the bullshit he’s selling. “Something like that.” He looks out toward the land and then back to me. “You looking to buy property?”
I follow his gaze and shrug. “It depends on the property.”
“What about this one here?”
I make a noncommittal sound. “Not sure. It’s a nice piece, just curious why it hasn’t sold.”
His eyelids flutter as he nods. “Not sure either, but I know they’re eager to offload it.”
“Hm. I’ll keep that in mind. I heard rumors that there are problems here with the land.”
“Who would say such a thing? Lived here my whole life. Nothing wrong here,” he says.
“Sure would be devastating to be suckered into buying a piece of land like this thinking you’re going to make a pretty penny developing it and reselling it … only to realize you can’t.”
“I don’t see no reason why you wouldn’t be able to develop and resell. Not sure what you’re talking about.”
“Methane is what I’m talking about.” I look for a reaction. His eyes widen momentarily. His nostrils flare. “High levels of it. So much so that once you churn this soil up with excavators to, say … develop it—cut it up into lots to resell to a developer and turn a quick buck—you’re looking at toxic levels. So toxic that the cost to mitigate it with soil barriers and such would price you right out of the resale market.”
He looks at me from beneath the brim of his hat, eyes narrowing. “That’s a downright lie. Ain’t no reports say nothing of the sort.” But his gaze says he knows differently. Good. That means Bob is doing his job properly. Letting everyone know this land is shit. That the owners are selling damaged goods.
At least there’s that.
“Good to know. Hmm. Wonder why I heard that, then?”
“Land is a cutthroat business in these parts,” he mutters the line I know to be bullshit. “Lies are a part of it.”
“Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You mind telling me who gave you that load of crap? Gotta get that info over to the owners. Let them know so they can take care of it.”
I offer a loaded smile. “Don’t remember.” I shrug and lie, “I was in a bar. People were talking. Kind of overheard it.”
“Christ,” he mutters before pasting another smile on his lips. “You sure you don’t want me to call them owners for you? Set up a meeting so they can tell you different?”
“No, thanks. I can find their number if I need them,” I say as I climb into my SUV. “Thanks for your time.”
He eyes me, his curiosity piqued now. “I didn’t catch your name.”
Exactly.
“I didn’t give one.”
I start the car, roll the window up, and head back where I came from without another word.
How long before the owners of WillowBend LLC, a Delaware corporation with confidential owners, get a phone call from their neighbor letting them know of my little visit? Of some random stranger talking about how the land is tainted? About how they’re fucking screwed?
Pressure will either turn you into dust or a diamond.
I know which one I’m rooting for.
My phone buzzes with a text and when I glance over at it, I almost run my car off the road. By the time I pull over to the side, I’ve properly processed the text. Or at least my cock has as it hardens in my pants.
My grin is victorious.
Rowan: Leather or lace? Preference?
Me: I thought you said no sexting
Rowan: I did
Me: And yet you’re texting me and I know it’s not about what material I want for the curtains in my office
Rowan: You mean MY office
Me: I don’t care so long as I’m fucking you on its desk.
Rowan: Promise?
Fucking hell. I check my text again and try not to question her sudden about-face.
Yes. It really says that.
I groan as I adjust myself, fantasies flying through my head. The ones I’ve had more times than I care to count will soon become a reality.
Me: Promise. Looks like I might need you to stay after hours, Miss Rothschild. There are a few things we need to go over.
Like my desk.
Like my knee.
Like straddling my lap.
THIRTY-FOUR
Rowan
No.
Just fucking no.
Tears threaten. Burn behind my eyes and in my throat.
I don’t bother to knock. I simply barge into Holden’s office without warning and slam the door at my back. And, of course, he’s sitting behind his desk with a broad grin on his face and an arrogant glint in his eyes.
“How dare you?”
“How dare I what?” He chuckles, dismissing my anger. “Take too long to get back here? Sunshine, if you were that desperate for me we could have met offsite and—”
My laugh sounds on the verge of hysterical. “This was all a game to you, wasn’t it? Occupy my time, my head, my bed,” I whisper yell, “to distract me while you were professionally fucking me over. Congrats, it worked. You just played me. Lesson learned. I won’t make the mistake again.” I can’t stand still. I move, pace, too restless, too angry to do anything else.
“Rowan. What are you—”
“Whatever we had is done. Over. Fucking finished.”
“Enough.” His voice thunders around the space but falls dead on my ears.
“My whole department?” I shriek. “Every single one of them?”
It’s the first time Holden’s expression falters as he rises from his seat and moves across the room to me. “I like a riddle as much as the next guy, but you’ve got to give better clues because I’m sitting here thinking I’m going to get laid one minute and now I’m fucking lost.”
“Laid? After the backhanded shit you just pulled?”
He reaches out to put his hands on my biceps, but I immediately jerk my arms from his grasp. “Don’t touch me.” I glare, my chest heaving and heart hurting. “Just when I started to really like you. Just when I thought you were a decent human being—”
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“Go to hell.”
“Watch your step, Rowan.”
“Watch my step? You’re the one who sabotaged my long-term graphic designer. You’re the one who just fired the four people in my department. You’re the one—”
“The one who has no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”
For the first time his words register through my anger. His lost expression finishes selling the point.
“Rowan.” The force with which he says my name breaks through my haze of fury. “Start from the beginning. Explain. Now.”
“I came back from a meeting to find my department empty. Not just empty but desks packed up, personal belongings taken, employees gone. Like, never coming back, gone.”
The disbelief is still fresh and shocking. The high I was riding after our sexy text exchange, then my very productive meeting offsite vanished when I walked in and was blindsided by the news. The emptiness.
“What?” he all but shouts.
“Don’t act so fucking shocked. According to Alicia, she said Rhett’s explanation was that orders came from the top. That we were making cuts and my department was the first to get hit.” I glare at him, my arms crossed over my chest, and my stomach twisted in knots.
Marjorie is eight months pregnant. Michele works her ass off all day to run home and take care of her sick mother. Ralph just bought a house. They all need their paychecks and benefits. They all did a phenomenal job.
Holden stands there with the muscle pulsing in his jaw and his teeth gritting. His eyes flash dangerously dark, and his tone, when he speaks, has me drawing back. “And you believe Alicia?” he asks. “You think I’d go back on my word from that first meeting when I said the day-to-day staff is safe?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” I whisper.
“I had nothing to do with this,” he states.
I study him and worry if I’ve convinced myself Holden Knight is the man I want him to be and not the man he really is. That I’m jaded by the good sex and softening feelings toward him.
I want to believe him.
I’m scared to.
“You don’t believe me, do you?” he asks as he moves back to his desk and hits the intercom.
“You’re back,” Audrey says through the speaker.
“Only been here a few minutes. We had four employees let go today in error. Can you get with HR and let me know why they were let go and by whom?”
“Mr. Rothschild let them go. His reasoning was a downsizing of the marketing department,” she says as the dormant knife in my back twists.
“Son of a bitch.” Holden’s hands curl into fists. “Audrey?”
“Yes?”
“Have HR call them back. Tell them there was a mistake made and we understand if they’d like to not return, but that we’d love to have them as they are valued employees. That for their troubles, we’d like to offer them a signing bonus with an employment contract.”
“Okay.”
“Please have legal then draw up some kind of agreement that by taking the bonus it clears us of any pain and suffering, etcetera, etcetera, lawsuit.”
“Will do. Anything else?”
“Is Mr. Rothschild still in the building?”
“I believe so.”
The smile he gives the phone is chilling. “Let him know not to go anywhere. That I need to speak with him. I’ll come to him when I’m ready.”
