Ruined with a Promise
Author: B.B. Hamel Category: Romance | Adult | Crime
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Chapter 1
Kat
If my cousin Sara Lynn fell into a vat of boiling Pepsi, I’d stand back and watch her drown.
I wouldn’t even feel bad about it.
While she begged for my help, I’d remind her about the time she pulled my chair out from under me and I fell straight onto concrete and broke my tailbone, or the time she recorded me sleeping and sent the video to all her friends with the caption ‘Neanderthal Snoring,’ or the time she broke into my room and stole my pillows and refused to give them back until I admitted that I was the ugliest girl in the whole family. I gave in and said it, and she still wouldn’t return them and I slept on an old stuffed bear for a week before Grandpa made her hand them over.
Which is why I never should’ve gone with her to this homecoming football game.
But the offer was too tempting. She’s a senior and I’m barely in eighth grade and I’d never been to a high school football game before. She said she’d take me in front of the whole family at dinner, which meant it was really happening, and I was tooexcited to really think through what it meant. That I’d be at her mercy there with no adults to help. At the time I figured her mom and dad made her do it out of pity.
Now I’m pretty sure it was another in a long line of torturous practical jokes that aren’t funny and only prove that she’s an actual monster.
Sara Lynn’s smirk is vicious. Light and shadows play across her face as people above us on the concrete bleachers move around between plays. “Stop staring at me like that, Kit-Kat. If you wanna get out from under here then you’re gonna have to eat the whole thing, start to finish, and you’d better do it in under ten seconds.” She shoves the mustard-drenched hot dog at me and wiggles it up and down. “Come on, Kit-Kat. Get to it. We all know you love to scarf down food.”
She cackles and her friends join in. My jaw works but I don’t answer. Saying anything right now will only make it worse. Sara Lynn knows I hate hot dogs ever since Grandfather loudly informed me that they will made meeven chubbier and nobody likes a chubby girland now the sight of a hot dog repulses me. But Sara Lynn shoves it in my face with a wicked grin while her friends, Laurie and Bronwyn, watch and laugh.
Sara Lynn says, “Come on, it’s just food. It’s not like I’m asking you to eat bugs. Although—” She bends down and scoops up some bleacher dirt and sprinkles it on top. A little piece of discarded, ancient popcorn adheres to the mustard. “There we go, now it’s got a little seasoning. Get chewing, Kit-Kat.”
I hate that nickname. It’s a dig against my weight, which isn’t my fault, I’m only thirteen and it’s not like I eat too much junk or whatever. Grandfather won’t let me. Tears well up in my eyes, and I blink rapidly to try to stop them from rolling down becausecrying right now will only make this worse but I’m trapped and cornered and hurt, and I don’t know what to do. Sara Lynn’s not going to let me leave until I eat all that gross food. Even if I do it, she’ll just call me fat and her friends will cackle, and I’ll hate myself just as much as I hate them.
Except a voice cuts over the crowd. A guy’s voice, low and loud. “What are you doing?”
Everyone looks over as he walks toward us.
Bradford Arc. Or justFordnow. He’s big, pushing six feet, with broad shoulders and muscular arms. He’s a star on the lacrosse team or else he’d be out there on the football field right now playing quarterback or something. Ford’s one of the most popular boys at school, and I’ve never been this close to him before, let alone ever heard him talk, but Sara Lynn and her two little witch cronies know him. They hang out in the same social circles, and I used to be so jealous that she’s popular but if this is how the popular kids act then it’s better that I’m a loser.
With Ford here, suddenly I’m mortified. Now I can’t stop the tears even if I despise myself for crying in front of him, but at least Sara Lynn isn’t paying attention to me anymore.
“We’re just having some fun with my little cousin,” Sara Lynn says and strokes her hair with her free hand. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Seriously, Sar? You’re bullying a little kid?”
Sara Lynn rolls her eyes. “Whatever, it’s not bullying. She’s just my stupid little cousin. And she’s thirteen, so relax, she’s not, like, a baby anymore.” She looks at me and her lips curl in distaste. “Wow, seriously, Kat? You’re fake crying right now to get attention? That’s so pathetic.”
Sara Lynn’s friends laugh nervously but Ford’s staring at them like he wants to break both their perfect little noses and force their parents to let them get even more plastic surgery.
“Leave the girl alone,” he says and his voice is almost lost in the roar of the crowd above. “This is pretty sad, Sar. Even for you.”
“You’resucha dork, Ford.” Sara Lynn tosses the hot dog on the ground and walks over to him. “What are you doing after this? Are you going to Tommy’s house? I hear his parents aren’t home and Dean got a keg.”
“I might.”
Sara Lynn puts a finger on his chest. She smiles seductively, or at least I think that’s what she’s doing. I’ve never actuallyseensomeone try to be seductive before and it grosses me out that Sara Lynn’s acting this way.
Ford stares at her for a long moment and I think he’s going to do something like kiss her or touch her hips or something like that, like what boys do to girls in movies. Sara Lynn’s pretty in a way I’ll never be: tall, skinny, long blonde hair, big blue eyes. She looks like a member of our family, like an illustrious Stockton, while I look likethe mistaken bastard mix of a junkie daughter and some gutter-rutting stranger,according to my grandfather.
Instead, Ford grabs her wrist tightly and twists it sharply to the left.
Sara Lynn yelps with pain and surprise. Nobody moves—her friends are too horrified to say anything, and a sudden pulse of excitement runs down into my core as my hands fly to my mouth. My tears are all forgotten as I stare at Ford bending Sara Lynn’s wrist to the side, her teeth clenched down in a terrified and pained grimace. She tries to struggle, tries to hit him, buthe’s twice her size and not smiling at all, only staring at her with a grim expression, as he wrenches her wrist up behind her back and holds her there like she’s a child.
“How does it feel to be pushed around by someone bigger?” he says and leans closer, his lips practically kissing her throat. “I can tell you that it feels good to do the pushing. Should I break your wrist? I wonder if I’d like that. I think I’d reallyloveto hear you fuckingscream, Sar. God, that’d be hot.”
“Ford,” Sara Lynn groans. “Get the fuck off me, please. Don’t do this.”
“Would you stop if your cousin begged? Would you let her go?”
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No,I want to say,she wouldn’t stop, but I keep my mouth shut. Something tells me this is bigger than I realize. This is Adult. This is Grown-Up Stuff, and I definitely don’t understand the dynamics at play here.
“Yes,” Sara Lynn gasps. “Please! Let me go! I’d totally stop!”
“Are you going to cry now for some attention, you pathetic loser? You’re small, Sar. You’re fucking tiny. I could snap your delicate little wrist and I’d love it. I want to watch you roll around on the ground and fuckingsobyour pretty little face off. Nothing would be sexier than to watch you squirm in pain. Don’t forget it.”
After another beat, he lets her go and shoves her away. She staggers, holding her wrist, and groans as Laurie and Bronwyn run to her side.
“You could’ve really hurt her,” Laurie says fiercely as she runs a hand through her long, dark hair. “What’s wrong with you, Ford?”
“Fuck off, Laurie. All three of you, fuck off, or else I’ll decide I haven’t had enough and take it out on all of you later at Tommy’s.”
Laurie hesitates, looking uncertain, and Bronwyn finally pulls Sara Lynn away.
“Asshole,” Sara Lynn mumbles with tears streaming down her face as they pass and head out from under the bleachers.
Ford watches them go.
I stand there trembling. I’m not crying anymore. I’m too scared to cry. My legs shake so badly I need to sit down but I can’t move. Ford is like a giant and whatever just happened was bad, it was really bad, boys aren’t supposed to hurt girls like that, but Ford did it and he seemed to really enjoy it. That’s not right and I don’t get why he would do something like that for someone like me.
“Uh,” I finally say. Ford’s busy staring off at them and he starts when I speak like he forgot I was there. “Thanks.”
He narrows his eyes. “Sara Lynn’s really your cousin?”
“Yeah. She’s not usually—” I stop myself because that’s not true. “Yeah. She’s my cousin. And seriously, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I didn’t do it for you. For all I fucking care, Sara can throw you off a cliff next time. Good luck with that.”
Ford turns and walks away, his hands shoved in his pockets, his shoulders hunched forward.
I stand there stunned, not sure what to think, caught between happy that Sara Lynn got what she deserved and horrified at Ford’s sudden and sadistic violence.
Chapter 2
Kat
Twelve Years Later
Grandfather sitsin front of a crackling fire in a high-backed chair. I hesitate in the doorway and watch the light flicker off the spines of hardcover books lined up on the shelves, off the ancient African masks and hunting spears, off the old Welsh axes and Viking helmets, until Grandfather clears his throat.
“Don’t linger, Kat. You know I hate it when you linger.”
“Sorry, Grandfather.” I head into his expansive office. It’s half workspace and half museum. Grandfather’s always been a collector and he likes to surround himself with his favorite objects when he’s busy doing whatever it is he does for the family in here. This is the heart of the Stockton home on the affluent outskirts of Austin, Texas, and Grandfather is the heart of the Stocktons themselves.
He looks at me as I slowly sit in the chair beside him, my back straight, my hands folded in my lap like I’ve been taught. Hiseyes are a pale blue, wrinkled, with swollen bags under them. His skin is loose and sallow. His hair is thin and gray. He’s in his eighties and not getting any younger, and though I’m twenty-five and could overpower him at this point, my grandfather still scares the crap out of me.
“Thank you for coming to see me,” he says as if I had any choice. “I have some bad news and I wanted to tell you in person.”
I sit up straighter and a thousand thoughts whirl through my mind, but he doesn’t need to tell me what this news is about. I already knew, even if I don’t know, because it’s always about one thing and one person.
My mother. My poor, poor mother. I haven’t seen her in a month and I’ve been waiting for this conversation, on edge for when I’d finally get called in to some room to get lectured by a member of the family—one of my aunts or uncles usually—for something that I have nothing to do with. I have no control over my mother, never have, never will, but they all act like her sins are my own.
It’s always been that way in the Stockton family. I used to think it’s because I’m not stick-skinny like my cousin, or because I have red hair, or because I have green eyes instead of blue, but it’s got nothing to do with how I look. No diet or hair dye can change what I am in their eyes.
A mistake.
“Your mother’s been arrested,” he says with a heavy sigh.
I go very still. I shouldn’t be surprised, but normally Mom’s pretty good about not getting thrown in jail. Usually, anyway. “Arrested? Are you sure?”
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“She was picked up last night in Dallas and is currently in the city lockup. One of my friends from bridge club called earlier to tell me her name popped up in the system. Apparently, she was caught trying to steal from a jewelry store, and her accomplices threw her under the bus to take the fall. The charges look serious.”
My mouth hangs open. “Mom wasrobbing a jewelry store?”
“Yes, so it seems.” Grandfather rubs his face and sighs. “It’s times like this I’m still angry with your grandmother for making me give up cigars.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Grandfather isn’t upset because his daughter is in jail—at least not for her sake. Mom’s been doing this stuff for years and years, although this is the first time she’s actually ended up in jail that I know about. Usually Grandfather can call in a favor before it gets that far, and most people know the Stockton name well enough to keep Mom from getting officially booked anywhere. Mom’s been in and out of more rehab places than I can count, and at this point, I don’t know why anyone even bothers. Grandfather wrote Mom off a long, long time ago.
“What are we going to do?” I don’t know why I sayweas if I have any say in the matter. Of everyone in the Stockton family, I’m the lowest of the low, and I have pretty much zero say over anything.
“I’m going to pay her bail, hire a good team of lawyers, and send her to the most remote rehabilitation clinic with the biggest walls and strongest locks I can find. Hopefully, they can keep her there until this blows over.”
“Right, that’s a good idea,” I say weakly. Mom at another rehab place. She rarely lasts long before relapsing. Her best soberstreak was six months, and that only happened because a doctor told her that if she took more pills or shot more heroin, she’d end up dead. Eventually, she fell back in with her old junkie friends and disappeared for six weeks. I figured she’d never come back, but sure enough, she appeared one day, asking for money and another chance like always.
“Your mother will be fine. An embarrassment, a stain on our family, but fine.” Grandfather exhales a long breath and shakes his head. “We’re both past the point of thinking your mother will ever get better. She will continue to plague our name until the day that she dies, and there is nothing we can do but try to manage her the best we can. However, you’re still here, Katherine. And you can still be useful.”
My fingers dig into my thighs as I stare at my grandfather. He looks back at me, head tilted, appraising. I’ve never heard him talk about me as anything other than a burden before, so it’s strange to hear the wordusefulattributed to me. I don’t let myself get excited though—the years have taught me to always be on guard no matter how happy or how excited I might get. When I’m at my highest, I can fall the furthest.
“What do you need, Grandfather?”
“You’re twenty-five now, Katherine. I’ve been very lenient with you for all these years on account of your mother’s difficulty, however—” He hesitates, frowning deeply. “That leniency must come to an end.”
I want to laugh.Leniencyis not the word I’d use to describe the constant, unflinching criticism I’ve endured from this old man. The only decent thing he ever did for me was give me a job at one of the horse breeders the family owns and that was only after I got a vet tech certification online without telling anyone. It tookme two years of sneaking around and doing night classes in my room, and Grandfather was only barely amused when I showed him the official graduation diploma.
At least I love my job at Shady Farms. It’s the only place I can be happy, even if I’m only working there part-time—I show up nearly every day. It’s a fifty-minute drive and worth every second because nobody treats me like a mutated sewer freak there. I’m a colleague and a friend and an actual human being, at least to the staff.
In the Stockton house, I’m the gunk between shower tiles personified.
He slowly stands and walks closer to the fire. I watch him, my guts roiling. Nervous energy rolls up my spine. He turns to me slowly, frowning thoughtfully.
“Your cousins are all married or engaged. Sara Lynn has two babies and a third on the way. The Stockton line will continue well into the future because they have done their duty to proliferate with the best stock we could find, and now it is your turn, Katherine. I am going to find you a husband. You will marry him, have children, and continue on our family legacy, even if your genes are not exactly—high quality.” He stays those last two words with a slow drawl.
Marriage. Babies. Continuing the family legacy. My head feels light and my heart’s racing. I’ve barely even dated and only ever had one serious boyfriend in my life, and now Grandfather wants me to get married? I have no clue how he thinks that’ll happen—unless he’s already got a list.
I stifle a groan. Yeah, of course there’s a freakinglist.
“I don’t know who you plan on marrying me off to, Grandfather, but—”
“There are vetted and suitable candidates.” Yep, totally a list. “I will introduce them to you, and you will choose from among them. I know this is sudden and it’s something of a shock, but with your mother’s most recent antics, I’m realizing that nothing will change with her, but it can change with you. I understand you haven’t always been the most important person in our family—” I barely manage to stop myself from rolling my eyes. That’s the biggest understatement I’ve ever heard in my life. “—but this is your opportunity to step up and be a part of this family.”
I clear my throat. “And when do you want this marriage to happen?”
“Soon. Weeks, not months.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. Grandfather only stares at me and doesn’t crack a smile. This is so crazy and there’s been absolutely no notice, and why the heck does Grandfather suddenly care about marrying me offat allwhen I’m an afterthought at best? When I started working at Shady Farms, after my third shift there, he looked at me in my tall work boots and stained jeans, made a face, and said,at least you found your place, and walked off like he smelled something bad.
Now he wants me to get married for the good of the family?
The idea terrified me. No, worse, it actively repulses me. Not because I’m not interested in men—I am very interested in men—but because the men Grandfather’s going to pick are all the blueblood aristocrat types with lovely breeding, good names, and plenty of zeroes at the end of their bank account statements.He’s not putting it this way, but the old man’s practically selling me off because he’s tired of dealing with me and my mother himself.
And the worst part of it all is, I’m almosteagerto do it.
That’s my blessing and my curse. I was born into the wealthy and elite Stockton family, descended from ancient cattle barons, men and women that ruled the Texas plains. Now we’re stupidly rich and most of our business revolves around breeding and selling premium racehorse stock, but mostly we live off our investments. I grew up being told the Stockton name means more than my life itself, and in my case that’s very literal. Nobody knows who my father was, and my mother’s been an addict her whole life. I’ve grown up in this house, hated by everyone that matters and ignored by everyone else.
I should want to tell Grandfather to go to hell, but instead the idea of making him happy—of making him proud—of beingusefulfor once in my life is extremely enticing.
I only wish I didn’t have to get married to do it.
“We will begin this weekend,” Grandfather says as he paces back to his chair and sits with a sigh. “You will meet your first potential husband. Be quiet, demure, obedient, and choose quickly and wisely. Do not embarrass me like your mother does, Katherine. You can be useful now, but if you ever become a true nuisance—” He doesn’t finish that sentence. I don’t need him to.
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Grandfather would love an excuse to cut me off and send me packing.
It’s mortifying how badly that scares me.
I’ve never lived on my own. I don’t know how to wash a dish much less how to get a real job that isn’t at my family’s horse farm. Passing that vet tech course was the highlight of my life and it really was as brainlessly easy as possible.
The idea of living on my own makes me tremble worse than the thought of marrying a stranger.
“I’ll do my best, Grandfather,” I say and stand.
“Step up, Katherine. Do right by the family. Try to fix some of the damage your mother has done over the years.”
“Yes, Grandfather. I won’t let you down.” The words taste like vomit in my mouth as I spew them out.
He nods and waves a hand in dismissal. I turn and hurry out of the room and pause in the hallway, my heart racing, sweat beading under my arms. I feel sticky and gross and used, like Grandfather just held me under a microscope, pinned my arms and legs back like a butterfly, and used me for some sick science experiment. I’m nothing more than meat to him, a sack of walking and talking flesh that can be bought and sold at a whim, and I’m letting him get away with it.
I hate myself for being so passive and eager to please, and I hate him for taking advantage of it over and over again.
But I will do my duty. I’ve always done my duty, despite being asked to be twice as good as everyone else in my family, all because I have an unknown father and a junkie mother. Everyone’s always waiting for me to screw up somehow, and I’ve gotten to the point where I’m waiting too.
Maybe for once I can make my grandfather proud.
Except I doubt that’s possible.
Chapter 3
Ford
Grandpop walks with a pronounced limp and leans heavily on a walking stick. He’s in his mid-eighties and still does a three-mile hike through the Texas wilderness every morning, rain or shine, heat or freezing, though it’s mostly just heat. He pauses at the top of a rise, and we watch the sun spill up over the hills. I have to admit it’s a beautiful sight: gold grass waves in the morning breeze as red and orange light glimmers through the sky.
“I don’t know how many more of these I have left, Ford,” Grandpop says without looking at me.
I’m not sure how to answer so I say nothing. Better to let him enjoy than to ruin it, but I can tell Grandpop’s mind is elsewhere. He’s been quiet for the last few days, which isn’t like him. My cousins have been all over his ass, asking what’s the matter, doting on him like children, like he’s an invalid or something, and I can tell it’s been pissing him off. I kept my distance and waited, and now I’m rewarded with this.
A hike at the ass-crack of fucking dawn.
But I know it’s important or else he never would’ve brought me. Grandpop likes his hikes solo unless there’s something big on his mind.
“Come on,” he grunts and gets moving again, picking up the pace as we descend the hill and curve along a path that skirts a shallow valley. “I’ve been thinking about your father a lot, Ford. How long’s he been gone now?”
“Ten years,” I say and look at the scrub brush, remembering my father’s twisted and broken body lying at the bottom of the steps.
“Ten years. Feels like yesterday my boy was still with me.” Grandpop laughs bitterly. “Time moves fast when you get to be my age.”
“Why are you thinking about him?”
“I thought your father would succeed me one day. That was the plan for a very long time.”
My eyebrows raise. “That’s news to me,” I say, and I’m practically buzzing with excitement. Grandpop never,everdiscusses succession, not even when asked directly, and this is the first time he’s even mentioned the possibility. I didn’t know my father was the first one in line and I doubt anyone else did, including my old man. Otherwise, he might’ve gotten his shit together, forced himself to get sober, and he might still be here today.
“Don’t be so surprised. Your father was the only one that truly gave a shit about Mack’s Barbecue. The rest of my useless kids thinks it’s beneath them to run a restaurant chain, but they don’t understand the value of hard work. They only see our family name and think that should be enough.” Grandpop spits and shakes his head. He’s a rugged old bastard, a gritty, hardscrabblesort of Texan that thinks he’s still a cowboy even though he spends most of his life in luxury and hasn’t ridden a horse in twenty years at least.
“I’m mostly surprised you’re bringing it up at all. We’ve all noticed that you don’t like discussing about your successor.”
Grandpop snorts. “Would you like talking about that? Do you want to talk about how you’re gonna be put out to pasture one day?”
“No, but it’s sensible to have a plan.”
“I have a plan.” His jaw works for a moment and his pace slows. “I’ve done a lot in my day, Ford. I started Mack’s when the family was at its lowest and I saved all our asses by creating an empire. I’ve won bets, married beautiful women, had a big family, traveled the world. I killed a bull in Spain and kissed a girl on the Eiffel tower. I’ve done everything I’ve ever wanted, and I’m still restless.”
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“You’ve had one hell of a life.” I smile at him tightly and don’t bother to mention the string of divorces and the long list of scandals and messes he’s caused by doing whatever he wants. Not that I can blame him—in his position, I would’ve done exactly the same.
Hell, I still plan on it, which is why I’m putting up with his rambling nonsense.
“One hell of a life,” he agrees, nodding. “But it’s not over yet and there’s still work to do. There’s one goal I’ve never achieved, and it’s the one goal I care about the most in this world. That’s why you’re here.”
“Whatever it is, I’d be happy to help.”
“Don’t butter me up, god damn it. I get enough of your cousins shoving their noses up my asshole and sniffing and telling me how nice it smells.” He stops and jams a finger in my chest. I have a strange moment where I remember another time someone did that exact thing to me, except she was young and stupid and trying to be seductive, while Grandpop is old and smart and trying to intimidate. Strange how the same gesture can mean two completely different things. “I’m going to ask you to do something hard. You’re not going to like it. But if you pull it off, I promise I’ll make it worth the effort.”
I stare down at him. “You’ll make me your successor.”
“Damn right I will.” He stares back, which means this is big. This is very big. I’m sweating now, heart racing. This is what I’ve wanted my whole life—my chance to sit at the head of the family and run the Arc empire, and all I have to do is cross one last item off Grandpop’s bucket list. If the old man wants me to carry him from room to room in some sick, niche whorehouse in the deepest, darkest depths of Siberian Russia, I’ll fucking do it. I’ll do anything to make this happen.
Years and years of hard work brought me to this moment. Years of fighting off my cousins, of dealing with their bullshit, their backstabbing, their two-faced lying, their aggression. Years of working diligently at the company and not taking shit from anyone. Years of my uncles looking down on me, of my aunts talking shit behind my back, all to end up on this hike with this old man out in the wilderness.
I’m so close. So fucking close. It’s right there and all I have to do is take it.
“What do you need from me?”
“You know the Stockton family.” That’s not a question. Every Arc knows the Stocktons. There’s a feud going back to our cattle ranching days and for some reason, Grandpa’s been holding on to it tighter than most. He despises Ernest Stockton, the current head of the Stockton family, maybe because their family is everything we used to be: independently wealthy, politically connected, immensely powerful. We lost all that thanks to bad investments by Grandpop’s father, and we only managed to claw back a portion of our former selves through Grandpop’s ingenuity.
I never gave a shit about that feud. Stockton, Spatter, Hegney, I don’t give a shit about a last name. Grandpop and the others can distract themselves with weird revenge fantasies like we’re the rich version of the Hatfields and the McCoys, but the idea of hating some people just because of shit that happened before I was born is extremely absurd.
Still, Grandpop is the spine of our family. He’s the soil we’re all planted in. Without him, I don’t know what we’d be, and we all owe him our respect. I keep telling myself that, even if I think this feud is childish.
“You’ve never let me forget them,” I say with a tight smile.
He grunts in reply. “Of everything I’ve wanted to do, destroying that family’s always eluded me. Don’t give me that look, boy. I know I sound like a comic book villain right now, but it’s the goddamn truth. I’m eighty-five years old, and it’s time I stepped down, but not before I hurt those fucking Stockton cunts so badly they never forget me, and I want you to be my weapon.”
Grandpop stops walking and faces me again. I stare down at him vibrating with energy. Finally, finally, the old bastard is talking about retirement. He’s eighty-fucking-five years old and beyondpast the age where he should’ve given up control, but finally it’s time, and all I have to do is play along with his insipid little revenge story.
“What can I do?”
“There’s a daughter. She’s Ernest’s youngest granddaughter. Mother’s that junkie bitch they’re always so ashamed of. I hear Ernest has been looking for a good match for her and plans on marrying her off soon.” He moves closer to me. “I want you to step in. Seduce her. Marry her. Destroy her. Find me something I can use against that family.”
My smile tightens and spoils. “You want me to whore myself?”
“I want you to fuck them. Fuck the girl too for all I care, though I hear she’s nothing special.”
“Why would Ernest ever consider me? He hates you as much as you hate him.”
“He wouldn’t but the girl might. Convince her. I don’t care how.”
I take a deep breath. This feels deeply, deeply fucking wrong, and it’s the last thing I want to do—why drag this poor girl into this stupid bullshit? But I’d do anything to take over the family, and if I have to fuck some stupid Stockton girl to do it then I’ll put on my best suit and my best smile and eat her pussy until she spills all their secrets.
“What’s her name?”
He starts walking again. “Katherine Stockton. Goes by Kat. Find her, ingratiate yourself with her, and get me some revenge. You can do all that and the family will be yours. But don’t take too long, boy. I don’t have forever.”
I nod and let Grandpop take the lead. I stare at the grass, at the valley, at the bushes and the rocks, and the sun climbing into the sky, and I wonder how far I’ll go for this, how much of myself I’m willing to give up to this old man.
And I know I’d give up everything, do anything, kill anyone to get what I want.
Including Kat Stockton.
Chapter 4
Kat
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Sara Lynn teeters down the stairs that lead to the events space beneath the main floor of the Oak Club, throws her hands in the air, and grins as the band begins to play “Isn’t She Lovely.” “Thanks for coming to my birthday party!” she shouts over the music, and the audience claps. I swear there isn’t an ounce of irony as she descends the rest of the staircase and gives her big, strapping husband a tight hug, kisses her little boy and her little girl on the cheek, and ditches them for the bar. She’s thirty years old—thirty years old—and still getting birthday parties every year like it’s perpetually her sweet sixteen.
I’d get lucky to get a slice of cake. Meanwhile, darling Sara Lynn gets the events space in the Oak Club, which is basically like Rich Person Valhalla. It’s the most exclusive society club in the country, maybe the world, and if there’s something even more exclusive then I haven’t heard about it. Which is totally possible, since I’m barely ever allowedhere, much less somewhere better.
I try not to let myself feel bitter. Sara Lynn’s happy and laughing and surrounded by friends and family, and her kids look they’re having a good time sneaking extra sodas and running around thedance floor, and even her husband is smiling and not drinking too much for once. All the dysfunction of this family is safely hidden beneath expensive champagne, delicious catering, and the ambiance of a vintage speakeasy complete with priceless Tiffany lamps and stained glass leading nowhere. I stand off to the side by myself, sipping a glass of white wine with three ice cubes—I swear the bartender looked like he wanted to throw up when I asked for ice, and hereluctantlyplonked in exactly three baby cubes—and watch my cousins milling about, shaking hands, smiling, fitting in, while I wonder what that must feel like.
Family events are always the hardest. It’s easy to ignore the way I don’t fit in back at the house where I have my own life and can escape any weird conversations or disapproving glares, but here I’m totally exposed, and everyone can see how I stand out amidst a sea of skinny blondes and brunettes. I’ve worked hard over the years to get myself in shape and I’m proud to say that I’m looking the best I ever have, but I’ll never be super skinny like the rest of them. Maybe it’s my father’s genes, I don’t know, but I’m a bigger girl with hips and boobs and thighs, and it took me a really, really long time to accept what I look like.
I’m not there completely, but I’m doing the work and feel okay about myself for the first time in a really long time—honestly, probably for the first time ever, since some of my earliest memories involve my cousins bullying me for not looking like them.
Now I’m expected to smile and laugh and mill about and act like everything is lovely and fine and like I don’t despise Sara Lynn for making my life a living hell growing up. None of my cousins were particularlyniceto me, but Sara Lynn went out of her way to be nasty. I still don’t know why, maybe it’s something brokeninside of her, or maybe it’s just that I’m so flawed that I drag everyone else down by association. Either way, family parties suck, and I get through them by staying out of the way, drinking a few glasses of wine, and leaving as soon as it’s appropriate.
Except tonight, I have a mission.
A man comes toward me from the crowd. I catch his eye and something in my belly twists. He’s barely an inch taller than me, extremely skinny, wearing a navy suit with thick glasses and a receding hairline. I’d guess mid-thirties, maybe even forties, but it’s hard to say in the low light. His name is Matthew Keyne, and he’s on Grandfather’s list.
“Hey, uh, Katherine, right?” Matthew grins at me over his drink. Beer, just like every other guy in here. I like that he’s pretending as though he wasn’t sent over here to talk to me by my grandfather. Like this is totally spontaneous.
It’s not. I can practically feel Grandfather staring at us.
“Nice to meet you,” I say and shake his hand even though we met a few years ago at a party just like this one, although I forget the cause now.
“Sara Lynn knows how to throw herself a birthday.” He grins awkwardly. “Do you, uh, have parties like this too?”
I keep my smile plastered on my face. I want to say,My family would rather sell my kidneys than spend a dime on a party for mebut only politely shake my head instead. “I’m not the party type.”
“Oh, totally. I’m not either. Well, actually, this one time when I was with my brothers, you know, my fraternity brothers, we threw this wild rager…”
I stand there and listen to a wonderfully riveting tale about a big party this guy and his frat put on probably twenty years ago now, and I’m already searching for an excuse to run away. He’s not terrible, not at all, but he’s barely looking at me and his story is dragging on with absolutely no point. All I can think about is how he’s only standing here talking to me at all because Grandfather sent him over, and our family still holds a lot of influence in the world of the elite bluebloods. Except if this guy is here and single, and in this room, that means there’s something deeply wrong with him just like there’s something deeply wrong with me. By the time I’m able to pretend like I need another glass of wine and extract myself from the conversation, I’m busy analyzing just how bad this nightmare’s going to get.
At the bar, I order the same thing—white wine with ice—and I swear the bartender turns green and looks like he wants to throw up. He gets it and doesn’t complain, but boy, does he make me pay for it. I turn away, new drink secured, and start surveying the crowd—when another man appears at my elbow.
“Hey, you’re Katherine Stockton. I’m Jason Varley. Your grandfather said we should meet.” He grins at me, too-straight white teeth gleaming, his head like a perfect square, his chin like an eraser, his suit a size too small and clinging to his absurd muscles. I note that he’s easily an inch shorter than me, and I’m not tall.
“Nice to meet you,” I say and glimpse Grandfather staring at us from across the room.
My conversation with Jason lasts a little bit longer—he asks me questions this time and doesn’t brag about ancient frat keggers at least, but I come up with an excuse to get some air after ten minutes of small talk. That doesn’t last long—as soon as I’malone, another potential suitor appears, and it becomes obvious that this party has an ulterior motive.
It’s like a speed dating round except I never signed up and had no clue it was about to happen.
Three more men chat with me in quick succession. There’s the hedge fund manager that only talks about himself, the painter that freely admits he’s only doing this because he’d love to ingratiate himself with my family, and the banker that brags about working eighty hours a week. By the time I slip upstairs into the main hall of the Oak Club and hide near the massive tree growing right in the middle of the building, I’m exhausted and drained and thinking this marriage thing is a huge mistake.
Something must be the matter with me. None of those guys were particularly awful—the painter was actually kind of handsome—but I felt absolutely nothing for them, no spark, no excitement.
But why do I need that? This is supposed to be an arrangement, nothing more than a business deal, something to connect my family with another prominent family, something to make Grandfather happy with me for the first time ever. I could choose the least terrible of the bunch and maybe even grow to like him after a while, but the thought of spending my life with a man I don’t particularly like all that much, pumping out his children and devoting myself to them while he wastes his days and nights at clubs like this one because there’s nothing interesting to him back at home, feels like slow motion suicide.
I’ve always wanted the storybook romance. It’s stupid, I know, and more than a little childish, but I lost myself in old Disney movies and romantic comedies and more than a few romance novels when I was younger and miserable, and something must’ve seeded inside of me. I want that burning need, thatspark, that excitement, but I’ve never experienced it before with a guy and definitely never will if I sell myself off to the first man with a decent last name that happens to agree to marry me.
And that’s exactly what Grandfather wants. It’s what I’m going to do. Only I’m facing down the reality of the situation and coming to grips with it, and it’s not feeling good.
“Kat Stockton.”
The voice yanks me from my self-pity. None of those other guys used my nickname—the name I prefer if I’m honest—and this voice sounds familiar. I look over as a man comes toward me, tall and handsome, wearing a slim black suit with dark hair and dark eyes and a small puckered scar on the left side of his mouth that makes it look like he’s got a secret. Tattoos poke out from the edges of his shirt and at his neck, and his chiseled jaw and strong arms make something flutter in my chest.
Ford Arc stands there with a glass of whiskey in one hand and the other shoved in his pocket.
I haven’t seen this man in a long time. Not since school, back when he was in Sara Lynn’s class. I’ve heard about him in the meantime, of course—the Arc family and my family hate each other because of some weird feud that spans generations, apparently—but I haven’t actually seen him in person.
The old Ford from school was always big and boyish and handsome, but this man is downright gorgeous. It’s like he bends the light around him, drawing in the shadows, making him seem like he’s glowing in the middle of a veil of darkness. He still has that same aura, this strange attractive pull that makes people want to be around him, except he gives off the intense feeling that he thinks the whole world is a joke. Maybe it’s thescar or maybe it’s the way he stares with those beautiful eyes, always half-smiling.
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“Ford,” I say and clear my throat. “Hey, uh, I forgot you and Sara Lynn knew each other.”
He chuckles and swirls his drink. “We went to Baker Prep together but I wouldn’t say we know each other. I’m not attending the party. I think half your cousins and uncles would try to fight me if I dared to step foot downstairs.”
“Oh, right,” I say, flushing. “The feud.”
“The feud,” he agrees and tilts his head, still smiling, still looking like he thinks this is the most amusing conversation in the world. “What are you doing hiding up here?”
I consider telling him the truth for one insane moment, but decide to play it safe. “The crowd was getting to me.”
“I don’t blame you. A room full of Stocktons? That’s the worst place in the world.”
I laugh despite myself. “You don’t really buy into that whole feud thing, do you?”
“Honestly, I have no clue what it’s even about.”
“Neither do I. Grandfather tried to explain it once but it just sounded like a bunch of old stuff nobody cares about.”
“That’s how our families operate. It’s all for show.” He raises his glass. “To Sara Lynn’s birthday.”
“Right. To Sara Lynn.” I reluctantly drink. “Are you here alone?”
“I had a business meeting, and I was just headed home when I spotted you.”
“Well, thanks for stopping by, I don’t want to keep you.” I smile at him but he still lingers, staring at me with that intense gaze, and I wriggle slightly under the pressure I feel in my chest. What is it about this man and the way he looks at me? It’s not a kind look, not soft or amusing, and not like the guys downstairs. They looked at me like I was a money sign, or like I was a door through which they could step into real power, or like I was some other means to an ends.
Ford’s looking at me like I’m flesh and blood. Like I’m a woman in a dress with her hair down and wearing her favorite jewelry, and he’s noticing every little detail about me. I feel studied and for the first time in my life, I like it. I like the idea that Ford’s paying attention to me, of all people, despite the way our families think about each other. Most nights, I’d expect Ford to breeze past me, or to lob a casual insult in my direction purely for sport, or to whisper something nasty behind my back.
Instead, he seems almost charmed by me.
And I have no clue why.
“You know, I’m not in a rush to get back to my empty apartment. If you’re looking for an escape from that dreary party, why not come have a drink with me?”
I hesitate and alarm bells start screaming in my head. Why would Ford Arc want to have a drink with me of all people? I’ve had one single interaction with him and he told me he wouldn’t care if my cousin threw me off a cliff. And now he’s acting like we’re old friends reuniting after years of not speaking for no good reason, and I don’t understand why.
I’m being paranoid and for good reason. I just came from a party where all the men that so much as looked at me had an ulteriormotive. Ford’s only being nice—it’s what normal people do to other people, after all—and I decide to smile and shake my head.
“Thanks, but I should get back.”
“Suit yourself, but they’re going to know as soon as you step downstairs.”
“Know what?”
“That you’d rather be anywhere else.”
I snort and cover it by sipping my wine awkwardly. “You can really tell?”
“It’s written all over you. Why else escape into the lobby? It’s not to enjoy the tree.”
“It’s a nice tree though.”
“Beautiful tree,” he agrees. “But that’s not something a happy woman does. So what’s driving you out here really?”
“Family stuff,” I say and before I can spill my guts, Sara Lynn appears at the stairs, scans the hall, and locks eyes with me. Her face falls, anger tinting around her eyes, and she strides over with a clack-clack of her heels on tile. “Speaking of which, looks like I’m being summoned.”
Ford turns as Sara Lynn appears, and she stops in her tracks. I swear her face turns pale and her eyes widen and for one second, I think she’s going to turn around and run away. Ford smile and raises his drink in greeting. Sara Lynn stands stiffly, her jaw tight, and nods back.
“Sara Lynn, speak of the devil herself,” Ford says. “Happy birthday. I’d say I’m angry I wasn’t invited, but—”
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“What are you doing here, Ford?”
“Business. That’s what the Oak’s normally for, isn’t it?” He glances at me. “Sara Lynn must’ve had one too many to drink.” He drains his own glass and puts it down on a nearby table.
I cover my laughter with a hand over my mouth. Sara Lynn’s face turns pink and she puts her hands on her hips. “I am pregnant. I amnotdrinking. Kat, Grandfather wants you back downstairs.Now.” She says it in that better-obey-stupid-cousin tone she reserves just for me.
“Okay, I’m coming.” I nod to Ford. “Nice talking to you.”
“Enjoy the party. Seems like it’s a really good time. I’m almost jealous.” His smirk means he’s sarcastic as hell, and I try not to laugh as Sara Lynn turns and starts away.
But as I pass him, Ford steps forward. His hand grabs my arm, not too tightly, and he holds me there for one second as his other hand slips down toward my hip. I suck in a breath as his fingers grace against my side until I realize what he’s doing: he reaches the clutch I have under my elbow, undoes the latch with his fingers, and slips something inside. “In case you decide to ditch out on the party,” he whispers and let me go.
A thrill runs down my spine. The place where he grazed my hip tingles with a burning excitement and the dimples from his fingers are still fresh on my bare arms. I stare at him, my mouth open, and I try to figure out what his game is. Why would Ford Arc want to see me? Why would he touch me, talk to me at all, even act like we know each other in the slightest? This man is the best of the best in our world, one of the most eligible bachelors around, the sort of beast that could take any prize.
Why would he look at someone like me twice?
Unless it’s all a game to piss off Sara Lynn.
I turn away and hurry after my cousin as she stomps back to her party. I feel Ford’s eyes on me, and when I reach the steps, I glance back.
He’s standing there staring like he was looking at my ass.
My face turns bright pink as I descend, but I stop halfway down and reach into my clutch.
It’s a card. White, simple, with only his name and his phone number embossed in black.
“Just a game,” I whisper to myself and shove the card back into my clutch. “Just a stupid game.”
I stand up straight, put my shoulders back, take a deep breath, and wade back into the party even as my heart continues to flutter and I can’t get the way Ford was staring at me out of my head.
Chapter 5
Kat
“Here’s to three years.” Melody raises her glass and grins at me. “Honestly, Kat, when you showed up at Shady Farms, I thought you’d last like three hours. It never crossed my mind you’d actually stick around, let alone hang out for three years.”
“We always knew she liked horses, but actualworkI wasn’t so sure about,” Tina says with a laugh.
I grin at my two best friends and feel a flush of pride. I know most people don’t celebrate three-year work anniversaries, but this is a big deal for me. I’m barely even allowed tohavea job and Shady means so much—it’s practically my lifeblood, my identity, and without it, I don’t know what I’d be. I genuinely think I’d be dead if I couldn’t go there every day and escape myself in the simplicity of the animals and the work and turn off the part of my brain that’s been trained by my family to constantly hate myself. “Turns out I don’t mind getting a little dirty if I’m around animals. Who knew?”
We toast and drink and get back to enjoying a lavish meal out on the Stockton family account. We’re at a restaurant mygrandfather invested in years back right in the heart of Dallas’s financial district. It’s filled with thick red rugs, lots of polished wood, and waiters that act like they’re serving literal royalty, and sometimes they are. It’s nice to be treated well for a change, and even nicer to do it with Tina and Melody.
I met Melody my first day at Shady. She’d been a trainer for six years and we clicked almost instantly, even though she was more than a little skeptical of the new rich girl. Not that I can blame her. They figured I was nothing more than a useless nepotism hire, and they were half right, except I worked my butt off to prove that I could fit in and do the job. Meanwhile, Tina and I met in third grade and have been best friends ever since. She’s a lawyer and is probably the most intense person I’ve ever met.
“I heard a rumor about you,” Tina says, leaning closer. “Everyone’s talking about it. Apparently, your grandfather put out some feelers? You know…” She trails off, eyebrows raised.
I groan and cover my face. At least she waited until we already drank one bottle of wine to bring up this nightmare. “He basically assaulted me with potential suitors at Sara Lynn’s birthday party a couple weeks back.”
“How’s that going?” Tina asks. “When my parents brought up the possibility of, you know, anarrangement, I practically told them to go to hell. Not that I’m judging you, I just think my parents have terrible taste, especially my mom.”
I shift in my seat uncomfortably. “It’s not really going at all. I mean, Grandfather says he’s finding more options, but—” I shrug a little. “So far nothing feels right, and the only positive thing I can say is that he hasn’t forced anyone on me. Yet anyway. I don’t know how long he’ll be patient.”
“You rich people are bizarre,” Melody says, shaking her head. “Seriously, an arranged marriage? I mean, what year is it?”
“Even you know?” I gape at her than glare at Tina. “You told her.”
“She needed to know, and it’s not like we’re being subtle. She would’ve figured it out.”
“She did not need to know! It’s embarrassing.”
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“Oh, come on,” Melody says. “It’s notthatbad. Lots of people are in arranged marriages. You know, like coachmen, and chimney sweeps, and cobblers… I can’t think of more old-timey jobs.”
Tina laughs and nudges Melody under the table. I groan and cover my face with my napkin for a second before I sigh. “I didn’t picture it like this when Grandpa pitched the idea. You guys know my mom’s been in some trouble—”
“Yeah, I’m so sorry, sweetie,” Tina says softly.
“I thought it would be good for the family, you know? Pitch in and do my part?” I lower the napkin and slump back. “But now it sort of feels like I’m giving up or I’m finally admitting that I’m—” I stop myself from sayingbroken and worthlessand just shrug instead.
Tina knows immediately what I was going to say and puts a hand on my arm. “Don’t think that way. You never gave a crap about relationships for all the years I’ve known you and if you really tried to meet someone, I bet you could. There’s still time.”
“Maybe you could get up and meet that gorgeous guy over at the bar,” Melody says as she runs a finger along the stem of her wineglass and grins. “Holy crap, he’s incredible. And I’m pretty sure he keeps looking over here.”
“What are you talking about?” My back’s to that part of the restaurant, and I start to turn around to look but Melody hisses at me.
“Don’t do that! He’s watching!”
Tina laughs and cranes her neck to look over and immediately starts cursing as she slumps back down. “Oh, god, Melody, you have no clue who that is, do you?”
“Uh, should I? I’m not like you crazy people! I just train your stupid horses.”
“Kat, it’s Ford Arc.” Tina leans toward me, pitching her voice lower. “And he’s definitely staring at you.”
Suddenly, it’s like my back is directly in front of the sun. My neck is glowing and my shoulders are on fire and, holy crap, Ford is here. Why the heck would he behereof all places, and why’s he staring at me right now, and oh, god, I’m pretty sure I still have his number in my clutch from the night of Sara Lynn’s party.
I didn’t call him. I refused to let myself think about him, even though I did more than once, vacillating between being excited by the way he touched me and looked at me and hating myself for even thinking about him that way. Fact is, Ford Arc is a total bastard, and evenifhe was remotely nice to me one time, that doesn’t change anything about the guy, and it doesn’t give me license to consider something so scandalous.
He’s everything I hate. Rich, gorgeous, privileged, the kind of monster that would gladly throw me under the bus for a laugh. He hung around with the popular kids in high school and ran in the same circles as Sara Lynn despite our families hating each other. After that, he went to the prestigious and impressive Blackwoods College. Meanwhile, I stayed home and got my vettech degree. Ford is destined to sit atop the social pyramid and kick anyone he deems unworthy directly in the face as they scramble up to get a glimpse at his ankles, and I’m squarely at the bottom buried so far beneath a thousand other people that I can’t believe he even knows my name.
Let alone is looking at me right now.
“Can you two stop it?” I say through my teeth. “Forget about Ford. We’re here to celebrate, right?”
“Sure, sure,” Tina says and tilts her head. “Aren’t your families in some kind of feud though? He’s not looking at you like you’re feuding. He’s looking at you like he wants to—”
“Stop it.”
“He’sreallygood looking,” Melody whispers and she practically licks her lips. “If you’re not interested, I might be.”
“Aren’t you into girls?” I snap at her.
“I’m bi and stop trying to label me.” She sighs and cracks her neck. “I wonder if he’d be interested in learning how to ride. Or letting me.”
“You’re awful,” Tina says, laughing.
My face is bright red, and all I want is for this conversation to end because the thought ofridingFord is a little too exciting and more than a little too disturbing. “Anyway,moving on, please. Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure, Kat, sure, we’ll just forget the Adonis that keeps staring at you. Oh, wow, Carmine Scavo just walked in with his new wife. She’s really cute.”
I can’t resist anymore. I turn around and watch Ford greeting Carmine and a pretty young girl with dark hair named Brice Rowe, a girl from another prominent family in this area. They seem very friendly, very familiar, and I’m reminded that Ford runs in deep circles. I’ve only heard of Carmine because of Brice, and the way all these people are connected feels very incestuous and strange. As Ford sits back down with his two friends beside him, he glances back over and we lock eyes for one brief second.
It’s just like back at the Oak Club. His lips quirk in a tight smile and his eyebrows raise like he’s got a question on his tongue, and now I’m thinking about histongueand his lips and his mouth, and my cheeks are turning red and I feel a flush between my legs.
I whirl around and pick up my wine. “He saw me.”
“Yep,” Tina confirms. “Totally saw you. He’s smiling now.” She waves a little. “Oh wow. Ford Arc’s waving back. How about that.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Melody says with a sigh. “I think Kat is about to explode from embarrassment. Let’s be nice. Oh, no, he’s coming over.”
“No he’s not he better not be coming over oh my god are you joking you—” I stop as Melody cackles happily. Nobody’s coming to the table. I’m burning up and I swear the only thing that stops me from throwing my wine in her face like a reality TV housewife is the knowledge that Ford will see it. “You’re awful. Truly history’s greatest monster.”
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“We’re done, I swear,” Melody sighs and wipes her eyes, and finally, the conversation moves on.
But I feel like Ford is watching me the rest of the night. He gets a table with Carmine and Brice on the other side of the restaurant,well out of sight, but I can’t stop thinking about him. What the heck is Ford doing here? Other than having a meal with his friend and his friend’s wife? I mean, it feels like too much of a coincidence that I ran into him at Sara Lynn’s birthday, and now he’s eating at the same restaurant barely a few weeks later and looking at me like he wants to drag me into a bathroom caveman-style and do unspeakable things to my naked body.
Sometimes I forget that I despise the man and have to remind myself to keep my distance. It’s not that he’s rich and arrogant—he’s dangerous.
I manage to have a decent meal and stagger out into the night with my friends. I’ve had one too many glasses of wine and I’m feeling tipsy so Tina calls me a cab. “You sure you’re good?” she asks. “Melody and I are going to split a ride across town.”
“I’m fine, I’m totally fine. The house isn’t too far from here.”
“Try not to fall asleep in the back seat,” Melody says and gives me a tight hug. “See you at work at eight sharp. You’re mucking out the stalls.”
“You truly love to torture me, don’t you?”
She kisses my cheek and walks off with Tina. They pause to wave and I wave back, glowing with affection for my friends and a little bit of wine. I keep thinking about Ford like he’s some intrusive idea I can’t manage to ditch, but he never came over, never spoke to us, and I can safely put that behind me. That thing with Ford at the Oak Club was just a bizarre fluke, probably some weird power thing to piss off Sara Lynn and the rest of my family, and I need to start focusing on what matters.
My grandfather, my mother, and finding a suitable match.
Once that’s done, maybe Grandfather will be happy enough to give Mom another chance. The possibilities are endless. Maybe we can get her into a better program or bring her back home and pay for someone to help her out as a kind of outpatient thing. As soon as I start daydreaming about having my mother back sober and happy, I can tell that I’ve already lost.
Because this is the dream: my mom home and alive and healthy for once in my life. If I have to marry some guy to make that happen then I will. Grandfather’s going to lose patience for Mom sooner or later unless I do something to keep him happy, and as much as it hurts me to give myself away like this, at least it’ll buy Mom some more time to put herself together.
I’m tipsy enough to ignore the voice in the back of my head that whispers,Mom’s never going to be sober and you know it.
The cab pulls up and I hurry over. I pull open the door, get inside, breathe in the smell of stale menthol cigarettes and peeling vinyl, but before I can slam it shut a hand grabs the edge and yanks it back open.
I yelp in surprise as Ford Arc shoves his way in with me, pushing me aside across the bench like it’s totally normal.
“Hello, Kat, mind if we share? You don’t mind one bit. Driver, head uptown, she’s going that way.” Ford rattles off an address and the cabbie pulls out.
“What are you doing?” I ask, staring at him and trying to get myself together. I was practically just daydreaming about him and now here he is, shoving me over like I’m luggage. “I mean, uh, hi, Ford, but I’m sorry,what are you doing?”
“Sharing a cab with you, which is something people do from time to time. Apparently. So I’m told.” Ford leans back against the seat and watches me. “You didn’t come over and say hello.”
I clear my throat and wonder what the heck this guy is doing right now, but I’m too flustered to think properly.
“And neither did you.” I bristle slightly and lean away from him. “It’s weird you just barged in here, you know. Like seriously, very weird.”
“It’s weird you never called or at least sent a dirty late-night text. We can call that even.”
I let out one sharp laugh. Maybe I’m drunker than I realized because normally, I’d shrivel up and die at the thought of sparring with Ford Arc, but right now I’m feeling happy that I have friends who care about me and a job I like and good wine flowing through my veins, and I have a vision of what I want for the future, and I’ll be damned if I’m about to letFord Arcruin my good mood.
“It’s amazing you think someonenotcalling you is weird. That’s like the height of arrogance. And do women seriously send you late-night dirty texts? Sounds desperate and sad.”
“Is it arrogant? I thought it was rational. I saw the way you were looking at me that night, Kat.”
“I’m sorry,what?”
“You know what I’m talking about. It’s the same way you were looking at me tonight. Very intensefuck-meeyes.”
“You’re absolutely out of your mind.”
“Oh, good, now you’re going to deny it. Are we going to skirt around the issue then? That’s fun, I like to play.”
“I’m not playing games, Ford.” I gape at him, trying to understand what the heck is happening as the cabbie navigates through the Dallas streets. “I really have no clue what you’re talking about. I wasn’t looking at you likeanything.” Although maybe come to think of it, there might have been a bit offuck-mevibes happening inside my head and maybe that translated externally, but no, Ford is just being an asshole.
“Okay, how about we make a deal? If you open that clutch up right now and show me that my card isn’t still inside, I’ll get out of this cab and walk the rest of the way home. But if it’s there—”
“I’m not playing,” I say quickly, which only makes him laugh.
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“If it’sthere, you’re going to send me that dirty text right here and now. I want to watch your face while you type it out.”
Anger pierces through me. What the hell is wrong with this guy? He barged into my cab and is talking to me like we’ve known each other forever, except we’re basically total strangers. We’ve interacted a grand total of twice, once at the Oak Club, and years before that at the homecoming game when I was just a kid. Otherwise, Ford’s nothing more than a rumor to me.
Whodoessomething like this?
Men like Ford do. Men that have everything: money, looks, intelligence, charm. Men that are used to getting whatever they want, whenever they want it, especially from quiet, meek girls like me. Ford probably thinks that just because I’m not the slimmest girl in the world, I’ll throw myself at him and be tripping over myself to please him just for one second of his attention. I bet Ford’s been using that card trick for years andyears, and the girls almost always call him. I bet he isn’t used to a womannotthrowing herself at him.
Anger turns to bile, and I feel stifled and trapped. Ford’s gorgeous but there’s a gleam in his eye that I remember from the part of that first interaction I try not to think about too much: the pure, sick glee on his face as he hurt Sara Lynn. For years I’ve held on to that memory because Sara Lynn has so rarely gotten what she deserves, but that one aspect has always haunted me.
Ford looked like he enjoyed hurting her. Like he got a sick pleasure from it. And when he told me she could throw me off a cliff for all he cared, I realized it really wasn’t about me at all, and it wasn’t about getting some kind of justice for Sara Lynn’s bullying.
It was entirely about the pain.
He liked hurting her.
I don’t know why—there could be a million reasons—but he liked it.
And now I’m alone with that monster in a cab, and we’re playing some game.
“You definitely still have my card,” he says, watching me from his side of the cab. “How many times have you taken it out? Have you smelled it? Tasted it? Did you think about me while you licked it?”
“I don’t put disgusting things in my mouth.”
“Oh, darling, I have so many things I’d love to see you put between those lovely lips of yours.”
I grimace and shake my head. “This is going too far.Waytoo far.”
He laughs lowly. “Don’t pretend like you’re not enjoying our little game.”
“Mostly I’m just confused.” I glance at him. “And you’re a little too full of yourself for my taste.”
“And youaremy taste.”
I feel a shiver and refuse to let him see the flush of excitement. All this man has to do is say he finds me attractive and I’m suddenly ready to throw myself at him? I can’t be that pathetic. I refuse to be. He’s obviously lying, and this is clearly another attempt by some monstrous asshole to bully me and hurt me and embarrass me, and I don’t understand why he’s doing it now of all times.
“Whatever you’re playing, I’m not interested, okay? It was nice catching up with you, Ford, but—”
He moves closer and puts a hand on my leg.
“I hear you’re looking for a husband. I happen to be looking for a wife. I think we can help each other.”
I sit back, stunned into silence, and stare at him as he removes his hand from my thigh and brushes his palm against his face like he’s feeling the residual aura of my leg.
He’s not smiling. His scarred lip is puckered up at the end, but it’s a false smirk. I touch my throat and grip my clutch tighter and think of him brushing against my hip back at the Oak Club. Did he know about the arranged marriage back then? Is he doing all this to mock me for it?
Or is this really what he says it is—I need a husband and he’s interested in filling the role?
Why the hell would Ford Arc want to marrymeof all people?
That question pulls me back to earth and I narrow my eyes at him.
“I’m sorry, but this is too weird. You’re anArcand I barely even know you. Don’t you hate my cousin?”
“I don’t hate Sara Lynn. I feel bad for her.”
I snort in disbelief. Grandfather’s always telling me not to do that and I know it’s a bad habit, but I can’t help myself. When I laugh or when I’m shocked, it’s just a little noise that slips out. “You feelbadfor her? Why? She’s got everything.”
“Her husband’s a pathetic second-rate day trader that drinks too much. She’s got so many nannies she rarely ever sees her kids. I bet Sara Lynn spends half her time sucking down expensive wines, gossiping with her other bored housewife friends, pining after thirst trap influencer boys on TikTok, and wishing her husband would drop dead of a heart attack just so she could start over. No, Kat, that’s not the ideal life. It’s a sad little existence in a sad little box.”
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“That’s insane,” I say but some of that rings true, and it feels good to hear someone else say them out loud. Sara Lynn’s husbanddoesdrink too much sometimes, and she does have a lot of nannies, and she is always chatting with her friends about stupid and inane gossip, and what if the perfection is all an act?
“Believe it or not but not everything you see online is real. But this right here? This is real. I really do need a wife.”
“Why are you doing this right now? Seriously Ford. We don’t know each other. My familyhatesyou. Why would I ever, ever,evermarry you, even as an arrangement?”
“Because,” he says, leaning closer, “you want to.”
Before I can argue, before I can tell him that he’s lost his damn mind, and this whole dirty text thing is a really terrible way to flirt, and this whole thing is a totally crazy mistake, he leans forward and kisses me.
I’m so taken aback that I press my lips tighter against his and let his hands grip my legs.
I’m so surprised that I open my mouth.
So shocked, honestly, totally shocked, which is why I release the tiniest little whimper as the taste of warm whiskey and mint graces my tongue.
I’m appalled as my own tongue enters his mouth and I kiss him back with a groan.
Aghast, truly aghast, as the kiss sends jolts of electrified desire into my skin and down my spine, and this is crazy, this is strange and random and crazy. Yet his tongue and lips taste like sugar and wintergreen, and there’s a stunning buzz between my legs, growing in my core, and it takes me a wild second to realize that I’m actually getting wet.
Which is what finally snaps me back into reality.
I shove him away and break off the kiss. I don’t know if we were just making out for twenty minutes or two seconds, but it feels like his mouth was on mine for an eternity. The second it’s gone, I want it again, right now, gnawing on my tongue.
“Absolutely not,” I say sharply. “What is the matter with you, Ford? You can’t just—just—kiss me.”
“And yet you kissed me back, and I’m pretty sure I heard at least one moan.”
“I did not moan! Oh my god! It was a yelp of pure astonishment at most.”
“You whimpered like you were enjoying yourself. You groaned into my mouth, you dirty—”
“Ford!”
He laughs and leans forward toward where the cabbie’s sitting stone silent and staring straight ahead like this isn’t happening. “Drop me off at the corner.”
“Sure thing,” the cabbie says and whips the wheel around.
“Think about what I said.” Ford takes a pile of twenties from his pocket and drops them onto the passenger seat. I get a quick glimpse of a few hundred dollars before it disappears into the cabbie’s pocket. “You need a husband. I need a wife. Use that number.”
“Ford. Wait. Hold on. You can’t just—”
He shoves open the door, steps out, and disappears onto the sidewalk. I shift and shimmy, trying to get out and go after him, but he’s already rounding the corner and disappearing.
“You want me to, uh—” the cabbie says.
I slam the door with a frustrated growl. “Take me home,” I say and rattle off the address. “He already paid for it.”
“Lady, I’ll take you to the moon for what he just gave me.” The cabbie laughs at his own joke and starts driving.
I sit there with lips tingling, the ghost of Ford still on my tongue, and stare out the window.
Ford Arc just barged into my cab, flirted with me, kissed me, and said we should get married.
Well, not that last part exactly—but more or less.
This has to be a sick game. It’s got to be some intricate prank. Sara Lynn’s going to jump out from the trunk any second now to take pictures and laugh in my face. She’s going to know how excited I am, how aroused I feel over that kiss, how I’m already planning to go back home to take avery long shower, how much I want to taste Ford’s tongue again—and how deeply, deeply,deeplyangry it makes me.
The bastard just walked off.
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He kissed me, treated me like I should be happy he’s giving me attention, and walked off.
The arrogant asshole.
The sick, arrogantbastard.
And the worst part is, I hate how my body betrayed me the moment his lips touched mine.
Stupid body doesn’t know what’s good for it.
I need a husband if I want to make my family proud of me for the first time in my life, but that husband willneverbe Ford Arc. Not now, not in a million years.
I’m supposed to be buying my mother more time to get herself together before Grandfather finally cuts her off entirely.
Not ruining everything by getting involved with a man like Ford.
I will not call him. I will not call him.
I willnotcall him, no matter what.
Chapter 6
Ford
She doesn’t call me.
I’m surprised by how much that stings. I didn’t really expect her to and still some part of me kept waiting for a text to appear, something flirty and witty, not necessarily dirty, just something that means she’s still thinking about that kiss.
But there’s nothing. And it pisses me off.
“I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me,” I say while sitting at the bar of the Oak Club. A half-empty whiskey sweats onto a coaster between my hands.
Carmine laughs and knocks back his drink before asking for another. “From my understanding, you barged into the girl’s cab, basically told her to start sexting with you, and kissed her before running off into the night like some extremely psycho creepy superhero?”
“When you put it that way—”
“You scared theshitout of her, Ford.”
I laugh and shake my head. “You should’ve seen her though. She wasn’t scared, not one tiny bit. She was livid and kind of into it.”
Carmine sighs and swirls his drink. He stares at the ice and shakes his head like he can’t believe I’d do something so stupid, except he’s known me since we went to Blackwoods College together nearly a decade ago now, and the bastard is well aware that I’m basically a crazy person. Besides, I’m not kidding—Kat really did look like she couldn’t get enough of it while simultaneously wishing she could rip off my skull. It was without a doubt the most attractive thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
“What I don’t get is, why her? I mean, I understand what youseein her—the girl is attractive. Not my type, I’m not into redheads, but she’s got a good figure.”
“Beautiful figure,” I agree. “And I happen to very much be into redheads.”
“But still, whyher? There are plenty of hot, curvy redheads, if that’s your thing right now. Doesn’t your family hate her family?”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“And is it wrong?”
I shrug and take a sip to hide my hesitation. “Does my grandfather hate her grandfather? Yes, definitely, and her grandfather feels the same way. Do some of the other people in my family hate her family? Okay, yes, we’re in a feud and everyone takes it way too seriously, except it’s over some bullshit from generations ago and none of it matters anymore. It’s all an endless cycle of attacks and revenge and idiocy. Someone might as well stop it.”
“You think you’re going to break the cycle by fucking her is what you’re saying.”
I give him a look. “I will remind you that she’s looking for ahusband. And yes, pretty much, I’m going to fuck her and end a war. That’s actually kind of noble, right?”
“Actually, her grandfather is looking for a husband for her,” he says and grins at me. “That’s a big difference. And no, Ford, there’s absolutely nothing noble in what you’re doing.”
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“Doesn’t matter. Where you see problems, I see opportunity. Grandpop’s not going to be around forever and if I want to secure control of the family, I need a wife. Kat’s single, actively looking to get engaged quickly, and I find her attractive. We can help each other.”
“What else could you possibly need,” Carmine muses.
“We can’t all be as lucky as you and find a Brice back in college.”
“It took me a long time to recognize that I had something with Brice, so don’t think it was easy.”
I sigh miserably and finish my drink. “It still doesn’t matter. She didn’t call, and if she won’t call, I can forget about fucking her and building peace between our families.”
Carmine shrugs and lapses into silence. I order another drink, brooding and glaring at the bottles at the back of the bar like they’re my enemies and I plan on killing them all by pouring them down my throat.
Fucking Kat Stockton. I feel terrible about lying to Carmine about why I need her, but I have no other choice. I know he’d keep my secret and yet I can’t take a risk and fuck this up, not when so much is resting on it. And it’s not completely a lie… well—it’s a lie by omission anyway. It’s got to be her if I’m going to find out some dirt on her family and hurt them for this stupid goddamn feud that Grandpop’s obsessed with.
Fact is, if it weren’t for Grandpop, I wouldn’t care about Kat, not even a little bit, although I’ll admit that I’ve noticed her a few times over the years from a distance, always from a distance, because Kat Stockton is never,everinvolved in the middle of things. She’s always on the edges, always watching like she’s afraid that people will notice her ,and I find that attractive. It’s such a change of pace from all the rich girls obsessing about being in the spotlight, building their Instagram followings, wearing the most recent fashions, looking cool and cultured and smart and whatever. Kat’s all of that stuff, only she doesn’t flaunt it.
But I’ve noticed. It’s the thick, auburn hair, slightly wavy and long, down to her shoulder blades, and her full, pink lips, and her curves, those delicious fucking curves. So many girls in our social world think being heroin-skinny with fake tits hammered on is somehow hot, but Kat’s the real thing. She looks like a goddamngoddess,and I love it more than I thought I would.
I don’t know what’s happening with me right now. I need that girl if Grandpop is going to name me his successor and I have to use her like atool, but I’m having these other thoughts too. Like how good it felt to banter back and forth with her, matching wits with a woman worthy for once instead of just another milquetoast Barbie. Like how badly I wanted her to call me and how disappointed I feel that she hasn’t. Like how incredible it was to kiss her in the back of that cab even if it was the wrong move and scared her shitless.
She tasted like champagne and cherries. I wanted to bask in that kiss and would’ve stayed there making out with her for hours if she hadn’t pushed me away.
I keep thinking about that kiss. Obsessing, detailing, imagining what would’ve happened if she hadn’t stopped it.
Dirty things. Disgusting thing.
I would’ve paid that cabbie a small fortune if he’d let me fuck her in that back seat.
To feel the slow shiver of her spine as she sinks down on my cock and I fill her to the brim.
I would’ve done it too, and not for some game.
For my own desire.
What the hell is wrong with me?
This is a real problem.
I’m going to hurt her. I’m going to destroy her. I can’t think about fucking her, about pleasuring her, aboutenjoyingher.
Except there’s a sharp wit behind those shy eyes and it excites me more than anything I’ve felt in a long, long time.
I have to get it together. I have one goal, and that’s to get engaged with her and use her to ruin her family. I’ve been dreaming of becoming Grandpop’s successor for as long as I’ve been alive and this is finally my chance. This is my real goal, my reason for breathing, it’s absolutely everything to me. I’ll doanythingto get what I want, and it doesn’t matter if I find her attractive and enjoyed kissing her and liked that little flirty conversation.
I will break her if it means finally becoming the true heir.
“I’ve been debating whether to tell you this or not, but you should go take a peek in the dining room,” Carmine says and clears his throat. “Specifically, the far corner.”
“And why would I do that?”
“You’ll find something interesting there. Or, well, you’ll find two someone’s.”
My eyebrows raise. “This is cryptic even for you. Are you about to have me killed?”
Carmine laughs and shrugs. “Maybe. Did you betray me lately?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Then you should be okay.”
Page 15
“That’s a huge relief.” I finish my drink and stand up, curiosity getting the best of me. Carmine’s my best friend but he can be terrifying sometimes. That’s what happens when you run a mafia family for years. I keep very strange company—two mafia bosses, a powerful lawyer, and a chaotic hacker, and there’s me, the prodigal son of a wealthy Texas family. We’re an odd little group, but it works for us. “If I walk all the way over there and find nothing, I’m going to come back and be very angry.”
“Oh, no, I’m so worried, wouldn’t want you to get angry, what ever would I do? Go to the dining room, Ford. I already regret saying something.”
I give him one more glare look before walking off. Carmine’s not the type to send me on wild goose chases. Evander, yes, definitely, the Greek bastard is big and crazy. Lanzo, totally, he’s chaos incarnate. But Carmine’s the most grounded of thegroup, even though he manages a bunch of killers and thieves. Marrying Brice has further mellowed him out, and I think family life suits the guy, strangely enough.
I head through the main lobby and toward the dining room. The staff opens the door for me and I step into a high-end restaurant, free to all Oak Club members. It’s quiet and not crowded, and I linger toward the very front of the room against a low half-wall that separates the waiting section from the tables. I scan the faces, recognize most of them, and I’m about to turn around to go back to the bar to chew Carmine out when I spot her.
Sitting at a table for two in a far corner. A romantic little corner. Lots of shadow and candlelight.
Kat Stockton. She’s sitting across from a guy I recognize named Matthew Keyne, a chinless little rich boy that pretends to be a money manager on Wallstreet. Some worthless trust fund asshole.
What thefuckis Kat doing with a little mouse like that?
It’s like a lioness sitting down with a baby lamb.
I stay put and watch them for a few minutes. I feel like a goddamn creep but I can’t bring myself to walk away. I should head back to the bar, sit down with Carmine, and spend some more time with my friend before he has to return to Philadelphia to deal with his family, but I can’t seem to move my feet. It’s spellbinding, and a strange emotion begins to flicker deep in my body, like an old lighting array beginning to turn on after a very long time in the dark.
She’s listening to some story he’s telling. I can’t tell what it is but she smiles and laughs and pulls on her hair. She’s eating all the while and drinking some wine, and he’s barely picking at a littlebaby salad. Kat’s bright and alive and effusive—her gestures, the way she laughs, everything is so bold, and yet all she does is try to hide herself all the time—and I can’t pull my eyes from her, not from the tight little black dress she’s wearing that accentuates her chest and her hips, not from the lipstick that makes her plump lips look like dessert, not from her gorgeous eyes or her teeth or her tongue. I think of that kiss and a sudden violent rage rips into me, and the feeling that’s been warming up and getting brighter tears up to the surface, and I swear I see a light red mist.
What thefuckis she doing with him? And why isn’t she doing it with me?
It takes me a few beats to understand what I’m feeling. It’s jealousy, pure and simple jealousy, threatening to throw me into a frenzy, but why the fuck would I be jealous of a little field rat like Keynes? I don’tactuallycare about Kat, and it doesn’t matter if she thinks she likes a feckless little shit like Matthew. I need that girl, and not because I want her but because she’s the key to getting what I’ve always dreamed about. I have to shove this worthless and stupid jealousy aside and think straight or else somehow that lame little puppy dog Matthew is going to take my dream away.
And I willnotstand for that.
“Excuse me,” I say to a waitress as she’s walking past. “I need you to do something for me.” I slip her a roll of twenties—I don’t even know how much. Way too much most likely. “See the girl with the red hair?”
“The pretty one? On the date?” The waitress shrugs. “Sure, she’s in my section.”
“Perfect. Tell her she has a call and direct her out here to the waiting room. I want to talk to her.”
She hesitates. “Are you sure that’ll be okay? I mean—”
“Do it.”
The waitress sighs and nods. “Right away, Mr. Arc.” She hurries off and I watch her go. When she reaches the table, I step back behind the wall and wait in the shadows of the sitting area. It’s empty and the hostess is off polishing glasses while she waits to seat someone else, which means I’ve got the room to myself.
Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe Kat won’t want to see me and I’ll only start a scene. But thinking about her at that table on a date with Matthew Keyne is too much to bear. The simmering rage is still there boiling in a sea of jealousy. I don’t understand why I give a damn if she’s out with another man—I’m aware that she’s looking for a husband and I’m sure Keyne is on her grandfather’s list of acceptable spouses—but still, the thought of him touching her, kissing her, tasting her in a way I haven’t—
Fucking hell. I shove my hand into my pocket and pinch my thigh hard. The pain is sharp and helps to short-circuit my stupid spiraling brain. I amnothere to be jealous of anyone or anything; I’m here to fucking win and that’s all.
After another couple beats, there’s a shadow across the wall as someone comes near, and Kat steps around the corner. She looks confused for a second as she moves closer to me, clearly looking around for a phone that doesn’t exist, and stops in her tracks when I meet her eyes.
She pauses, caught between entering the sitting area and turning around. She doesn’t come closer, but she doesn’t run, and I take the opportunity to let my eyes wander. She looks so fuckinggorgeous it cracks my chest in half and makes something stir deep in my core. Her dress is simple and black, cut low and square to show off her lovely breasts, and clings tightly to her wide hips. Her hair’s in loose ringlets and her makeup is simple and understated, and fucking hell, she looks even better up close. The girl’s skin is begging to be touched, her body begging to be filled and fucked and used and abused, her dress aching to be ripped from her flesh. My heart’s racing with excitement and I have to struggle to keep it under control, but I swear if she listens closely, she’ll hear it.
“Ford,” she says and her eyebrows raise. “There’s no call, is there?”
“There’s no call.” I tilt my head to the side. “At least, there hasn’t been a call yet. Why not?”
Her jaw works. “I don’t know why you keep bringing this up like—” She takes a breath and glares. “I don’t owe you anything, you know that right? Are you stalking me now or something? Because it feels dangerously like you’re stalking me.”
“I didn’t even know you were here until Carmine mentioned it.”
“And why did—never mind, you know what, I don’t care.” She throws her hands up. “Ford, it was nice seeing you, but I’m going back to my date.”
“Wait.” My voice is sharp and low. I step closer to her. I’m not used to this, to pursuing someone so hard, but I find the experience exciting in a way I never imagined. Women and sex have always been easy for me, or at least I never need to try too hard. If a woman’s not interested, I just move on to someone that is, and I rarely need to look too hard until I find a willing pair of lips and legs and a dripping little cunt prepared to eagerlysoak up my big cock. Except now there’s no moving on—I’m stuck trying to win over his stubborn girl instead, and all I can think about is gripping her hips and thrusting myself into her plaintive, trembling pussy from behind, again and again.
“Why?” she asks, her voice soft and almost begging like she wants me to give her a good reason to stay.
Page 16
“That guy out there. Matthew Keyne. Do you like him?”
She shrugs. “What’s it matter?”
“Tell me the truth. Do you think he’d get into a cab and kiss you?”
Her cheeks turn pink. “No, and maybethat’swhat I like about him.”
“So youdolike him then.”
“No, I didn’t say—” She stops herself. “This is childish. I don’t care what you think or what you want, Ford. You’re not involved in my love life.”
“I care what you want and what you think, unlike most people in your life. You think that guy out there gives a single shit about you? I care more than your grandfather does, I bet. I’d never let you anywhere near a weak little child such as Matthew Keynes if you were mine. No, you need someone much bigger and stronger than him. Someone that can handle you.”
“Oh, yeah? Someone like you?” She stares up into my eyes and a smile quirks my lips.
“Exactly like me.”
“You’re so full of yourself.” She shakes her head. “And it’s not attractive.”
“I think you’re lying. I think you can’t get that kiss out of your head. You like a man that pursues you because he wants you.”
“Youdon’twant me, that’s the problem. You think I’m convenient, and honestly? That’s not very attractive.”
“Say the word and I’ll gladly show you exactly how badly I want you right now, Katherine.” I feel a shiver run down my spine and I know it’s true. I’d risk getting banned for life from the Oak if it meant running my tongue along her wet, dripping pussy and listening to her moan.
“Sorry, Ford, but I’m getting back to my date.”
She goes to leave but I reach out and grab her arm. Fuck this, I’m not finished with her yet. I hold on tightly and pull her back to me, and something flashes in her eyes. It’s fear, but it’s also excitement, and now we’re standing close and alone in the waiting room, and I want to bury my mouth on hers, dominate her lips with my own, part her teeth with my tongue and taste her until I’ve had my fucking fill. Except I don’t think I could ever have my fill of a woman like this.
“Let me go,” she says quietly. “Or I’m going to call for help. What’ll that do for your previous little reputation?”
“You think I give a fuck about reputations?” I tilt my lips down closer to hers. “Ditch Matthew. You know you’re wasting your time.”
“Ditch him and do what? Marry you? Or should I just let you fuck me and dump me once you’re bored? Because that’s what you do.”
“Asked around about me, have you?” I enjoy the thrum of excitement in my chest. “You are thinking about fucking me.”
Her cheeks turn hot pink. “Stop it. Just stop, okay? I don’t know what your obsession is with me but I’m not interested. I have—Ineedto do this, so leave me alone.”
That hangs between us for a moment. I relax my grip but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she shifts closer, and I can smell her perfume, floral and subtle. I want to dip my mouth down to her neck and breathe her in. Fuck, she’s driving me crazy and I don’t know why. I need to control myself or else I’m going to ruin my only chance.
I whisper, “I wasn’t kidding about what I said in the cab. I need a wife and I know you need a husband. We can help each other.”
“No, we can’t. My family would lose it if I got engaged to an Arc.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing.” She hesitates just for a moment and that sign is the confirmation that I need. “I know what you are. You’re the girl they turn to when they need to hurt someone to make themselves feel better, aren’t you? You’re the one Sara Lynn thinks is trash, the girl standing in the corner always hiding from the room, the girl afraid that the slightest bit of attention will end with more embarrassment, more pain. I remember you, Kat, and I remember the day I first met you. I remember your ugly little cousin and what she was doing, and I bet she’s been doing that your whole life, hasn’t she?” I can see it now, I can almost taste it, Kat’s life spread out like a dish on a table: all those hurt nights, all those anxious days, the anger and frustration and rage.
“Let me go,” Kat whispers, and there are tears in her eyes. “You don’t know me. You don’t know me at all.”
“Marry me, Kat. Together we can help each other. I’ll get what I want and I’ll give you what you need.”
“Yeah? What do I need? Why do you think you know a thing about me?”
“You need revenge. Show your cousins that you’re not some leftover. Show them they shouldn’t have bullied you your whole life.”
For a second, her jaw works, and I think I’ve finally hit on what really motivates her—but she finally yanks back and wipes her eyes gently with her fingers. I watch her and can tell she’s wrestling with something, with a big emotion, and I can see that I’ve tapped into primal emotions and memories and feelings that are important for her. This is my real skill—finding that one vein, that one tiny bit of glittering gold in someone, and figuring out how to twist it and use it.
But she finally sets her shoulders and lifts her chin like she’s putting on a costume. “Sorry, Ford. I’m not interested, and if I see you hanging around me again, I swear I’m going to get a restraining order. Go ahead and test me. My family would love it.”
Page 17
Without another word, she turns and storms off.
I watch her go, my heart racing. My stomach drops, and I’m tempted to follow her.
Fucking Kat Stockton.
I shouldn’t have enjoyed that as much as I did.
She’s livid. God damn, she’s angry, and not that I can blame her—I pushed her buttons on purpose.
But she’ll be thinking about me now for the rest of her dinner.
No, she didn’t break, and a little regret floods my stomach. I wish she had bent and finally admitted that she wants what I have to offer her, but we aren’t there yet.
I’m getting close.
That fucker Matthew Keyne will be all but forgotten as she takes her seat and crosses her legs and feels how soaked through her panties are. He’ll be an afterthought on his own date.
I’m all she’ll be able to think about.
And fuck knows she’s all I’ll be thinking about too.
I move out of the waiting room and linger at the wall again. Kat’s sitting back down, trying to smile. Her face is flushed and it’s obvious she was crying, but Matthew’s too much of a spineless dork to do anything about it. Her eyes move over toward me and for one moment, she’s looking back and I swear she smiles.
But then she turns to Matthew and says something and laughs, her lovely personality sparkling through even across the room, and I turn to walk away.
Carmine looks up when I join him. “You were gone a while,” he says.
“I had some business.”
“With Kat?” I shrug and don’t answer. He sighs. “Well, how did it go?”
“She hates me.”
“That’s not ideal.”
“No, it’s not. But she’s thinking about me.”
“I feel like that’s still not great.”
“It’ll all work out.” I raise my glass to my lips and don’t add,I hope.
Chapter 7
Kat
Ford ruined my date.
Not that it was going great before, but still. Ford ruined it and he put on that stupid show on purpose. I could see it on his face before he walked away—that bastard called me into that waiting room and got my head all mixed up for his own sick reasons, and I still can’t tell what he’s really aiming for.
Ford doesn’t care about me, even if it seems like he does. There’s just no way in hell.
It was like he enjoyed messing with me. Just like he enjoyed twisting Sara Lynn’s wrist. Just like he enjoyed hurting her.
Now he’s doing it to me.
And I don’t get why.
I stretch my legs and lounge next to the pool. I want to stop thinking about him, but Ford’s been the only thing on my mind since that date. I’ve basically all but forgotten about Matthew. He was totally fine—kind of nice, mostly boring, but totally fine.I should be thinking about him instead. But no, it’s only Ford on my mind.
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Since I have a day off from Shady Farms, I’m using it to work on myself, which means doing absolutely nothing. I’d like to read, but every time I try, I start drifting off and thinking about Ford again. I think I’ve gone over the same page like a dozen times at this point. Still, at least the breeze feels nice and it’s not too hot and the sun is warm on my skin, and I can pretend like everything’s okay for a little while.
Until I think of him again.
Ford’s offer keeps rattling around in my head. He wants to marry me, really marry me, because we can help each other. Grandfather wants me to get a husband, and he never specified I couldn’t choose my own, but no, this is stupid. My whole goal is to make Grandfather happy for once so he’ll be lenient with Mom, and getting involved with Ford is basically the opposite of that.
Getting involved with Ford would be like dropping a nuclear bomb on my relationship with my family.
But the thought of Sara Lynn’s face—
I close my eyes and shake my head. No, no,no. This is too stupid and a total waste of my time. I’m not going to fantasize. I need to focus on sensible choices like Matthew. Our date wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great either—there just wasn’t any spark. I sat there and listened to his stories and tried to laugh, but mostly I was thinking about Ford the whole time, thinking about him kissing me at first then thinking about how much I hate him later.
And everything he said. About being my family’s punching bag.
How the hell did he know that?
Is it really that obvious?
Maybe everyone can see it, and I’m a total laughingstock.
The idea makes my cheeks burn and I tug at my hair nervously. No, this is just Ford fucking with me. Instead of twisting my arm like a high school boy, he’s twisting my head like a grown-ass man. He’s doing the same shit he did to Sara Lynn back in the day, only now he’s gotten better at it, and I’m not going to fall for those tricks.
Matthew Keynes. A very good choice. Totally reasonable. Neutral, vanilla, acceptable. Grandfather would love it if I married into the Keynes family—they’re prominent, rich, well connected, a very solid choice. Sensible, practical, reasonable.
So boring I could puke.
Ford’s the opposite of Matthew. Where Matthew is on the shorter side, a little doughy, a little bland, Ford’s tall and dark and handsome and dangerous. Ford scares the hell out of me but every time he’s around, it’s like my body goes into overdrive and every sensation is doubled. The kiss was incredible, easily the best kiss of my life, though admittedly there’s not much to compare it to. If there’s no spark with Matthew, there’sonlyspark with Ford. One guy is like a nice four-door sedan, and the other is a Ferrari convertible. One’s logical and rational and shrewd, the other is insane and exciting and wild.
I can’t stop thinking about Ford. I don’t even want to start thinking about Matthew.
My phone starts buzzing. I sit up and pull my cover-up tightly around my shoulders as I look at the screen, my core pulsingwith excitement, some stupid part of me thinking that it’s going to be Ford.
Instead, it’s a local number I don’t recognize from a town over, and I reluctantly pick it up.
“Hello?”
My mother’s voice comes through raspy and distant like our connection is bad. “Sweetie? Hello?” She clears her throat, and something scrapes across the receiver and then she sounds more like herself again. “Hi, honey.”
“Mom.” Relief floods through me. I haven’t heard from her since she got arrested, and I was beginning to worry something had gone wrong. “Where are you right now?”
“Oh, you know, I’m in another lovely little paradise with kind workers intent on ruining my life.”
“You’re out of jail and in rehab then.”
“It’s a good one, I’ll give your grandfather that. He didn’t go easy on me this time.”
“Mom. I’m so, so relieved you’re out. What the hell happened?”
“Oh, honey, don’t worry about the details. You’ll hear it all when the court case goes to trial, but please, don’t believe any of it, I’m totally innocent. It was just, I was a little tired and hadn’t eaten and—” Mom goes through her usual litany of excuses, none of which involveI was high out of my mind and it was my fault this happened,and my stomach slowly sinks.
Nothing’s changed. Nothing at all.
“At least you’re safe,” I say when she finishes. “That’s important, right? And you’re not—”
“I’m not using,” Mom says quickly. “I’m sober, thank god. And I want to do it right this time.”
“Mom…”
“Honey, I know you’ve heard that a thousand times, but this was a close one. I really mean it.”
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I nod to myself and take a deep breath. This was a close one, just like the time she OD’d and is only alive because an EMT got there fast enough to give her Narcan, or the time she got hit by a car and nearly died, or the time she got robbed at gunpoint, or a dozen otherthis-was-a-close-ones.
“I’m just happy you’re getting the help you need.”
“Listen, hon, I don’t have long. I just wanted to call and say I’m doing okay and that I love you, and I miss you, and I want to come home soon.”
“I’d love it if you came home, Mom.”
“And I wanted to ask, uh, listen, did Daddy say anything? About my allowance?”
My heart sinks. She only refers to Grandfather as “Daddy” when she needs money. “No, he didn’t mention anything.”
“Okay, because my card’s cut off and I think there’s a problem at the bank? But don’t worry, I can figure it out, I’ll totally figure it out. Oh, god, the head nurse is looking at me like she’s about to cut off my fingers. Yes, okay, I’ll get off the phone, stop acting like I’m ordering crack right now or something. Anyway, I love you, sweetie, say hello to Daddy for me, kiss, kiss, bye-bye.” She hangs up and the line goes dead.
I lean back in the chair and stare at the pool and let the phone slip from my fingers. It clatters to the concrete.
This isn’t going to stick.
It never sticks. Sometimes she goes a few weeks, sometimes a few months, but she always relapses. Slowly at first, and then all at once, until she hits rock bottom and has to go back to rehab and the cycle begins again. My whole life has been one long, agonizing torture, alternately hoping Mom will kick her addictions and improve and wishing she’d just disappear already and stop torturing me with all this crap.
At least this time, I know she’s going to screw it up for sure. Otherwise, she wouldn’t already be asking about money.
Sorrow hits me so heavy and hard I feel like I might drown. I have to do some breathing exercises I learned from a therapist I saw when I was ten and Grandfather thought it would be a good idea for me to talk to someone about my mother. That lasted only a few sessions but the coping exercises stuck, and now I go through them one at a time, breathing in slowly for four seconds, holding for four seconds, releasing for four seconds, holding for four seconds, and repeating that for a while until I feel calm again.
“Katherine.” I look up at my name. Grandfather’s standing at the back door in slacks and a polo shirt. He steps outside onto the patio and comes toward me. I sit up and face him, hands folded in my lap.
“I didn’t know you were home, Grandfather.”
“I had a golf meeting and just came in. Who was that on the phone? Was that your mother?”
I nod, not surprised he knows. Grandfather always knows somehow. “I hadn’t heard she got bailed out.”
“Just happened this morning.” He sighs and walks over, looking exhausted as he sits down in a chair near mine in the shade of an umbrella. “I had to call in more favors than usual. Your mother’s mistakes are getting more and more expensive.”
“Grandfather, she said something about her card not working.”
His smile is bitter. “I cut her off. For now, at least. She needs to learn some responsibility.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I hate disagreeing with him—nothing good ever comes of it—but this is a very bad idea. “Remember the last time you cut her off?”
“Yes, I remember that whole fiasco. Her and her junkie friends tried to rob a damn Tiffany’s.”
“She’ll do something like that again.”
His eyes narrow. “And so what? Maybe this time we leave her to rot. Your mother is a grown woman, Katherine. She’s an adult and she’s been doing this insanity for long enough to know better.”
“She’s an addict,” I say, almost pleading. “She’s sick.”
“I’m tired of that whole sickness bullshit. Your mother isn’t sick, she’s just broken. She’s making these choices and doing these things, and if she really cared about anyone but herself, she’d find a way to stop. And yet we keep on going, around and around, and the same old things keep happening. At what point do we say enough is enough?”
“Grandfather,” I say, blinking at him. I’ve never heard him sounding so angry and bitter before. “She just needs support.”
“I’m tired of supporting my worthless daughter.” He meets my gaze. “You still have a chance, Katherine. I hear you went on a date with Matthew Keynes. He comes from a very good family.”
“Right,” I say softly. “Matthew.”
“Your mother never gave a damn about the family, but you could be different. You have a chance at turning things around if you’re only smart enough to do the right thing. Lord knows your mother never was. If there was a bad decision to be made, she’s turn around and make it, and I’m beginning to think she’s simply defective. Forget about your mother.” Grandfather pushes back and stands. “Focus on doing the right thing for your family. Your mother never did and never will.”
He walks up to the house and disappears inside.
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I stare after him feeling numb. I knew Grandfather thought those things about Mom, but—
He’s never said them out loud before.
He’s been angry, he’s shouted at her, but he’s never called herdefective. He’s never acted like there’s no redemption for his youngest daughter. It’s always been,your mother needs to find her wayandyour mother is sick and we can help her if we keep trying. But that was a man that has finally reached his limits, and it scares the hell out of me.
Mom’s alone and suffering in that rehab clinic, and Grandfather is sitting here in his khaki pants and his polo shirt and worried more about his family’s bottom line than about his daughter.
I stand, feeling shaky, feeling sick, and it hits me all over again that I’m only worth something to the family if Ido the right thing. If I obey Grandfather and keep my mouth shut and do as I’m told then everything will be okay.
Then I’ll be worth something.
But that has never worked for me before. Years and years I’ve kept quiet, followed the rules, done everything right, and still Sara Lynn tortures me and Grandfather ignores me and the rest of the family pretends like I don’t exist. Only Mom ever says she loves me. Only Mom ever tells me that I’m beautiful and that I matter.
The rest of them don’t give a damn about me and they don’t give a damn about Mom.
I head into the cold air-conditioned interior and slip up the back staircase. Inside my room, I find the clutch from the night of Sara Lynn’s party, the one from the Oak Club. Inside is a small, white business card with only a name and a number.
Ford Arc.
Nobody ever looks at me like Ford did. Nobody ever talks to me like Ford did. He’s brash and assuming and aggressive, but he also thinks I’m worth something to him—even if that’s only for his own selfish reasons, at least I know where I stand.
And there’s that kiss. That knee-shaking kiss.
I don’t want this. I don’t want anything to do with Ford, but I also despise the thought of marrying Matthew Keyne and living a life of mediocrity serving a family of people that think I’m nothing but the pointless castoff of the despicable junkie black sheep daughter.
If I get engaged to Ford, they’ll have to pay attention to me.
Hell, they might even bleed.
I dial his number. My hands are shaking as I raise the phone to my ear. It rings and rings and finally clicks as he answers.
“Hello,” he says, and his voice is soft and low like a velvet rumble.
“You made me an offer,” I say and blurt out the words before I can stop them. “Do you still want to convince me that it’s a good idea?”
“You’re calling to negotiate?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
He laughs like it’s the end of my life. “How about I pick you up tonight and we discuss this at the Oak?”
“I’ll meet you there at eight,” I say and hang up.
I’m doing this. I can’t believe I’m doing this.
I am not defective.
I am bigger and better than Grandfather thinks I am.
I hope.
Chapter 8
Kat
I’m trembling with nerves and sweating a bit as I step out of my family’s black Mercedes car. The driver rolls down the window and looks at me as the valet at the top of the steps opens the door to the Oak Club and waits patiently.
“Would you mind waiting?” I ask and lean toward the window. “At least a little bit.”
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“Of course, miss. Anything else?”
“That’s all, thank you.” I hate ordering the family staff around and usually act like they don’t exist, which has actually gotten me in trouble more than a few times, especially when I try to cook my own meals and the chef has a heart attack at the idea of a family member in his kitchen, but sometimes it’s nice to be a Stockton. The driver nods, rolls the window up, and heads over toward a bay of other waiting cars with their idling and bored chauffeurs.
He doesn’t need to wait forever, just long enough for me to find out if Ford’s going to murder me tonight or if this marriage thing is for real.
I square my shoulders, tilt my chin up, and march up the steps. The doorman nods at me as I walk through and I halfway expect them to stop me but nobody bothers. The front desk, the tasteful security guards, each of them smiles and nods as I head deeper into the club. I’m technically not a member, although I’m allowed to enter with my uncles or cousins or grandparents whoaremembers, and right now I feel strangely naked without a chaperone. Still, the club must know I’m here to meet with Ford, because nobody says a word as I make my way to the bar.
He’s sitting at a table in the far corner. A jazz trio plays standards on the stage. The piano’s a quiet lilting in the low light. I pause near the bar and think about turning around because it’s not too late, I can forget about this insanity, I can run away and save myself and stick to being a good girl like I promised Grandfather I would—
But he looks up and I know I’m staying.
It’s the glint in his eye. It’s only there for a moment, but I swear he’s excited to see me, and his gaze rakes down my dress and back up to my eyes before he quirks an eyebrow and gestures for me to head over. I walk with as much dignity as I can muster despite feeling like I’m about to vibrate myself to pieces.
“I almost didn’t think you’d show,” he says as he stands and greets me. He comes closer, touches my hip, and kisses my cheek. It’s all perfectly ordinary except for the way my body reacts like he’s whispering something filthy in my ear. He smells like musk and cinnamon and spice, and I feel like I’ve definitely lost my mind.
“I almost didn’t,” I admit and sit across from him. He gestures for the waiter and orders wine.
“Why not?” He tilts his head, still smiling slightly, that scar puckering his mouth. On a lot of people, it might be ugly—but on him it’s fascinating and I can’t stop staring at his lips. “You sounded… determined on the phone.”
“I might be second-guessing myself.”
“Don’t. Have some wine instead.” He laughs as the waiter pours me a glass.
It’s good, rich and dark and velvety, and the warmth in my stomach helps calm my nerves somewhat, but I don’t want to drink too much. I need my wits right now if I’m going to get out of this in one piece.
“It’s weird being here at the Oak without my family,” I say and swirl the wine glass to keep my hands busy so he hopefully won’t notice that they’re shaking. “I didn’t think they’d let me in.”
“You’re not a member?”
“Grandfather didn’t think it was necessary.”
“Interesting,” he says.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s nothing.”
“No, you can’t just sayinterestinglike I’m some sort of weird science experiment and not explain yourself.”
“It’s just that everyone in my family is a member,” he says and taps a finger on the table. “Grandpop doesn’t leave anyone out. When you turn eighteen, you’re inducted.”
“Must be nice to be an Arc.”
“Would you like to find out?”
I roll my eyes but it makes me smile. “This is crazy, you know. Are you really serious about this whole marriage thing?”
He tilts his head like he’s studying me again. I don’t know why he keeps doing that as if I’m worth staring at. I’ve gottensomeattention from men in my life, but rarely anything from someone like Ford. Sara Lynn, Kellie, Tamika, my other female cousins, they’re the pretty and successful ones with incredible hair and skinny legs. I’m the weird bastard redhead.
“Let me show you something.” Ford stands suddenly and takes his glass. “Come on, let’s walk.”
“Can we just bring our drinks? Oh, sure, okay,” I say as he strides past me. I have to hurry to catch up, and we walk right out of the bar with our drinks and into the main lobby. My eyes drift to the massive oak tree in the center of the room, and I breathe in the smell of grass and leaves even though we’re walking on marble. It’s incredibly breathtaking and I’m always struck at how strangely mystical and eternal it feels.
“I bet you’ve never seen this,” he says and leads me down a short hallway. “It’s members only and I’m guessing your grandfather hasn’t bothered to bring you here.”
“I’ve been in the bar, dining room, and the events spaces downstairs. Never though—” My breath catches as he pushes a door at the far side and steps out into a lush, green meadow. “What the hell?”
It’s a garden in the middle of a large courtyard. I had no clue this was even here—how is this even here? It makes no sense! But there’s real grass and bushes and flowers all over the place, and it’s perfectly manicured, almost to the point of absurdity.Benches are scattered throughout and a couple other members are sitting quietly watching the stars up in the night sky as the comfortable breeze ruffles through the flowers. Ford nods to them as we pass and I smile awkwardly, and it’s not easy to walk in my heels in this so I stop and take them off.
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He stares at me when I straighten up, shoes dangling over my shoulder. “What?”
“Most women just—” He gestures at my feet. “Suck it up.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t feel like sucking it up.” I glare at him and wiggle my toes in the grass. “Besides, this feels nice.”
He pauses for a long moment before he walks over to an empty bench, puts his glass down, and takes off his shoes.
I’m honestly shocked by the gesture. When he’s done, he sits there, bare feet in the grass, and takes a long drink from his wine. His smile is cheeky like he knows he’s doing something wrong, but he’s loving it anyway. “Don’t let the staff see this. I bet they’d throw us out.”
“That’s the problem with places like the Oak, it’s all so stupidly proper.” I walk over and sit next to him but make sure I leave some room between us. There’s nobody nearby, and it feels like we’re completely alone in some magical, idyllic British garden, like if I keep walking around the bushes, I’ll come across some ruins that’ll lead into a fairy world.
“It’s a way to enforce conformity, and conformity guarantees good behavior. Mostly, anyway. You’d have a hard time making my friend Evander behave.”
“That’s the big Greek guy, right? I’ve seen him here before.”
“That’s right. He’s up in Chicago right now but he comes down here as often as he can. We all like to get together, my friends and I.”
“That must be nice, having a circle of friends.” I sip my drink and watch him carefully. “It’s hard to have friends as an adult.”
His gaze grows distant as he looks across at the flowers. “At a certain point, people stop caring about relationships and start caring about power. You’re no longer a person to them but a means to an end. Fortunately, I met my friends before that mattered, and it helps that we have a complicated history.”
“Complicated how?”
“You’ll have to marry me to hear that story.” He looks at me and he’s smiling again. “I hoped this would make you a little more comfortable. Are you too cold?”
“No, I’m okay,” I say and it’s true. The Texas night is humid, but there’s lots of lighting around, a dull glow coming around the club walls and the built-in fixtures set discreetly around the paths.
“Let me ask you something and be honest. What made you change your mind?”
I tug at my hair nervously. “It’s complicated.”
“Everything’s complicated. If we’re going to do this, let’s try to do it for real.”
I clear my throat and open my mouth, but how can I make him understand? I’ve been an outsider in my own family for my entire life and treated like scum by practically everyone around me, especially my cousins, and especially by Sara Lynn. I don’t look exactly like everyone else which means I’m somehowdifferentfrom them. And different is very bad in the Stockton world.
“How much do you know… about me?” I ask feeling all sorts of awkward. “I mean, about my parents.”
“Your father isn’t around and your mother is an addict.”
The way he says it makes me sit up straighter. “You don’t think that’s—I don’t know, bad?”
“I’m not sure how it’s your fault that your father didn’t stick around, and you definitely didn’t get your mother addicted to drugs.”
“My mom’s been in and out of rehabs for years at this point. Everyone pretty much knows about it, and Grandfather’s getting sick of supporting her. He thinks she’s embarrassing and worthless, and I’m afraid—” I stop myself and take a breath. “They look down on me already, and I guess I figure it can’t get any worse.”
He accepts that wordlessly. His head tilts to the side as he considers me and I try to stare at the flowers instead of at him, but every time I look over, I feel a leap in my stomach and throat. This man can’t seriously have any interest in me, and if he does, it’s only because he wants to use me for his own purposes. He said it himself—at a certain point we’re all playing games.
And that’s okay. I don’t need to like him and he doesn’t need to like me.
So long as he can help.
“You want to hurt them,” he says finally. “Is that it? You want to marry me out of revenge?”
“Something like that. I’ll admit, the look on Sara Lynn’s face when she finds out is going to be worth it.” I tap my glass and look at him. “But the biggest question is why do you want to marryme?”
“I told you before, my grandfather wants me to get married. If I’m going to take over my family, I need a wife, and you’re very conveniently looking for a husband. And like you, I also want to hurt my family for my own reasons.”
“I find it hard to believe that you don’t have a perfect life.”
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He laughs at that like I’m kidding, but I’m not. Ford has everything I’ve always wanted—he fits in with this world, while I’m stuck standing on the margins staring in through dirty windows and trying to figure out a way to survive in a house filled with people that either dislike me or would prefer it if I simply disappeared.
“Things are complicated,” he says and doesn’t look like he’s going to elaborate.
“We can help each other then.” I clear my throat and sit up straighter. I look him in the eye—this is what I’m really here for. “Grandfather is going to cut me off the second you and I get engaged. But I think he’s going to cut me off sooner or later anyway, including my mom.”
“You want to marry me for my money? You make me feel so dirty and used, Kat.”
I grin at him. “In a way, yeah, except it’s not for me. I want you to swear you’ll take care of my mother no matter what happens.”
He lets that sink in for a moment. It hangs between us, and I’m not sure he fully understands what it means.
Mom isn’t easy. When she’s clean and sober, it’s okay, but she’s almost never clean, and if he agrees to step in when my grandfather inevitably throws a hissy fit over this engagement, he’s going to be dealing with my mother’s bullshit for the rest of his life. It’s no small task, but I love my mother, and I’m not stupid enough to ask for anything less than his full devotion if I’m going to give myself over to him.
“I take it that means paying for rehab,” he says.
“And bailing her out of prison, keeping her name out of the news, paying her dealers when they inevitably come looking for her, and a whole host of other problems. If I could wave a magic wand and make my mother sober, you better believe I’d do it. I’d give a limb to make that happen. But at this point, I think she’s going to die high, and I’m still not going to turn my back on her.”
He watches me for a moment, lips tugged into a curious frown. Part of me expects him to run away from this—people in his world don’t do well with scandal. Addiction, drugs, real life stuff, he’s probably been shielded from all of that for his entire life, and the idea of dealing with a real addict must seem daunting and terrifying. If he stands up right now and walks away, I won’t blame him one tiny bit, and I’ll just go back to my original plan and marry a guy like Matthew Keynes.
The thought sends a piercing jolt of sorrow into my chest. I don’t want to marry Matthew. I don’t want to marry any of the men on my grandfather’s list. I want to marry a man of my choosing, even if it’s a man I don’t particularly like or even want all that much, but at least it’s my decision for my own reasons.
“I can handle that,” he says softly.
“Wait—you can? Really?”
“It’s a fair trade. I’ll take care of your mother and in exchange, you’ll be my wife and you’ll help me get what I want. It sounds like a good deal for both of us.”
“Are you sure? I mean, do you really get what you’re agreeing to?”
He laughs gently and reaches out to touch my thigh. A tingle runs down into my core and I squirm nervously, but he’s staring at me, his wine glass at his lips. “I knowexactlywhat I want, Kat, and exactly what I’m agreeing to.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I say and look down at his hand. “You don’t have to—pretend.”
“Pretend what?”
“To want me. This is a business arrangement, right? We’ll work together and build a life but there doesn’t have to be—” I stare at the way his fingers brush up my thigh, getting closer and closer, until I hurriedly push him away.
“If I’m going to have you, I’m going tohave you. This deal involves children.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Children. Heirs. Me and you.”
“That means we’ll—” I take a long pull of my drink and finish it off. The thought of actually havingsexwith this man makes my cheeks turn bright pink. But of course, that’s what he wants—everyone in our world wants children to carry on the family name. That’s the bare minimum that will be expected of me.
“Yes, Kat, that means we’ll sleep together. Specifically, you’ll sleep in my bed every single night and I’ll fuck you when I wantto. I’ll taste you, Kat, and I’ll enjoy every minute of it, especially when you end up with my children in your belly. So let me ask you this, doyouunderstand what you’re getting into?”
My mouth is hanging open. He’s looking at me with utter sincerity and my head’s spinning through a thousand images right now. Me in his bed, me sleeping with him under the covers, his hands on my body, his mouth on mine, his mouth between my legs, his groans as he fills me—
And children. From him. Actual babies.
It scares the hell out of me.
It truly scares me to death.
But I have to do this. Mom needs me right now. Grandfather’s going to throw her from the family, if not this time then the next time or the time after that, and I can’t sit around and wait for it to happen.
“I understand,” I whisper.
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“Good girl.” He leans forward and I shiver as his lips brush my cheek. “Should we seal this? Call it a deal?”
“Seal it—how?”
“The traditional way.” His mouth hovers inches from mine. His eyes and his handsome face are everything, bigger than the moon. “With a kiss.”
I stifle a moan as his lips find mine. His mouth opens, and my mouth opens, and we’re kissing again, and that familiar taste bombards me, that delicious and spicy taste. His tongue laps along mine and his lips move slowly and sensually, andI whimper again—god, what is wrong with me, why do I keepwhimpering—but this time he groans in response.
That noise is easily the sexiest thing I’ve heard in my life.
But I break away from him after another moment because if I don’t then I’ll end up taking this too far. I’m riled up, sweating and excited, my core buzzing, and sweat rolling down my back, and I have to put one palm on his chest to keep him away. His heart is racing—like he’s as excited as I am.
“I guess that’s better than a handshake,” I whisper.
“Just a taste of what’s to come. You don’t have to like me, Kat, but you will be my wife, and you will play the role.”
“So long as you hold up your end of the bargain.” I stand quickly and step away from the bench. I crouch down and snatch up my heels. “Where do we go from here?”
“One last thing.” He shifts himself toward me and comes off the bench. I think he’s going to put his shoes on, but actually he’s kneeling in front of me and there’s something glittering in his palm. I stare down at the ring and my eyes go wide. “Let’s make it official.”
“You brought—”
“Give me your hand.”
I reach out, pulse hammering. “That’s a ring.”
“An engagement ring. And if I’m a good judge—” He slips it down my ringer finger. “Perfect.”
I stare at the diamond. It’s very simple, just a cluster of stones and white gold, but it’s beautiful in its austerity.
I’ve never dreamed of having an actual engagement ring on my finger before and, for a second, I can forget that it’s from Ford Arc, an asshole and a bastard, the sort of man I promised I’d never marry, but when I look up he’s looming above me, and my mind flashes back to that football game and his gleeful smile as he hurt Sara Lynn.
Who am I about to marry? Did I make a deal with a literal devil? I don’t know anything about this man, but I just swore I’d be his wife and sleep in his bed and have his children and now I’m wearing his ring and this is happening so fast—
But I have to keep it together.
This is going to protect Mom, and that’s all I care about.
“I should go,” I say, backing away from him.
“I’ll see you soon,” he says as I hurry away. “It won’t be easy, but it might be fun.”
I rush to the door we used to get out here and hurriedly put on my heels. He doesn’t follow me but I can’t seem to catch my breath until I’m in the lobby again under the oak tree. The taste of his lips still tingles on my mouth and I look down at my hand, at the ring glittering in the soft lighting.
It’s real.
This is real.
I’m going to be Mrs. Katherine Arc and my family is going to lose their shit.
Chapter 9
Ford
Kat squirms in the passenger seat of my car and stares out the window at the Arc family home. She doesn’t say anything and the silence stretches, but I don’t mind watching her. The morning light glitters through her auburn hair, and I stare at her neck, at her lips, at her full figure, and I marvel at how anyone could ignore this girl. She’s been hiding out from the society world for so long, and I bet her family has a lot to do with that—the fucking Stocktons are about as conservative as it gets, and if she doesn’t fit in with their idea of a perfect women then they’ll keep her locked away.
The idea that anyone could be embarrassed of this girl is heartbreaking.
Now I’m setting her free.
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But no, I’m not—not really.
Guilt rolls through my guts. Guilt and anger. I didn’t lie to Kat the night I gave her my ring—I told her I needed her to help me take over my family—but I kept out the most important part.This whole thing is a farce created by Grandpop, and at some point it’s going to blow up in her face.
Now I’m beginning to question whether this is worth it.
She’s been through enough already. Even if she hasn’t opened up to all the shit her family’s put her through yet, I can see the evidence everywhere, in the way she’s always closing in around herself and the way she never shows up at any of her family’s important functions. It rips open my stomach thinking about how this is going to break her one last time.
But I tear my eyes away and steel myself. I can’t start to get fucking emotional and sentimental now. Yes, she’s beautiful, and yes, she’s been through a lot with her piece of shit family, but I’m not going to coddle her just because her life’s been tough.
We all have fucking problems, and I’ve been wanting this chance since I was a little kid.
I’ve fought for this. I’ve bled for this—literally bled. I’ve endured countless attacks from my own cousins, sometimes physical, sometimes psychological. They’ve been trying to tear me down for decades only so they can try to take my place as Grandpop’s favorite, and I’ve had to endure some fucked-up shit to stay above those sick bastards, like the time I woke up with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and my sheets covered in blood because Riley roofied me and staged my room like I murdered a fucking hooker, or the time Albert spread a lie about me stealing money from Grandpop’s accounts and even got the cops involved and let it all drag on for weeks and weeks and caused me a lot of fucking nightmares and headaches, or the time someone—I still don’t know who but I have my guesses—broke into my room and burned half my important documents.
It’s been attack after attack, and now I’m finally on the cusp of achieving my dream. This is what I’ve always wanted, what I’ve struggled for. I need it so badly I can feel it in my bones every time I wake up in the morning, and if I have to hurt Kat to get it then I will.
I won’t enjoy it and I’ll despise myself afterward, but I’ll fucking do it.
Because that’s what I’ve always done. Hurt and hurt and hurt and keep on going.
Pain is all I know and pain is all there ever will be, but it’ll all be worth it in the end when I sit on top of the family.
I only wish Kat didn’t have to suffer for my ambition.
“Are you ready?” I ask, still not able to look at her.
“I guess so. Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, isn’t your grandfather—”
“Grandpop.”
“Right. Isn’t he going to flip out?”
“Probably, yes.”
She clears her throat. “Explain how this is going to work again?”
“We’re going to convince him that we’re fixing the rift between our families. It won’t be easy at first, but in the end he’ll come around and that’ll clinch the succession for me. All you need to do is smile and act demure and take the old man’s abuse when it comes.”
“I’m good at that,” she says quietly.
My stomach twists. Fucking hell. I have to get it together. No more guilt, no more weakness. I let my eyes drift back to her, and I look at her simple cream blouse and her navy slacks. It’s a conservative outfit that also flatters her figure, so simple and so lovely, and I want to fist her hair and pull her neck back and kiss her throat until she makes that incredible goddamn whimper again.
But I have a job to do.
I can bury my feelings deep, deep down under years and years of suffering and trauma and desire.
“Let’s go.” I open my door, go around the car, and help her out. She straightens herself and nods to me, and the fear in her eyes almost makes me waver again.
I can do this. I can be strong.
She takes my arm, and we climb the steps and enter the house together.
I chose this morning on purpose. Most of my family is out either at work or at the golf course or at a spa or doing whatever the fuck they do to fill their time. Most of them pretend like they’re busy and their lives have meaning when they’re really sitting at the country club drinking beer at ten in the morning and posting on Instagram. Most of them, except for Grandpop.
He’s in his study. He’s always in his study. I knock softly and glance back at Kat. She’s shifting from foot to foot, looking nervous and uncomfortable, but Grandpop calls out and I push open the door.
The fire’s crackling and the room’s too hot. Grandpop likes the heat. He’s in a polo shirt and slacks, and he’s sitting behind hisdesk reading the newspaper. I go in first with Kat on my heels, and Grandpop looks up and frowns as his eyes lock on her.
“Good morning, Grandpop,” I say and pull Kat to my side. I hold her wrist tightly like I’m presenting a model for his inspection. The tension and silence feel heavy and Grandpop looks more confused than anything else. “Have you met Kat Stockton?”
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Grandpop’s eyes narrow as the last name sinks in. The old bastard is a good fucking actor, I’ll give him that. “Kat… Stockton. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
“Nice to meet you,” she says softly and gives her best smile. Her nerves are endearing, and I want to hold her hand and tell her everything will be okay, but I keep my eyes on the old man instead. No weakness. No softness.
Grandpop nods to her then looks at me. “I’m sorry to be rude, but, Ford, what’s this all about?”
“We spoke the other day about my future in this family.” I lift Kat’s hand up in the air so the ring catches the light. “I need a wife and Kat was looking for a husband.”
Grandpop’s eyes widen. He looks from Kat’s ring to me and back again before clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, this is—”
“I know it’s sudden,” Kat says, and I stare at her in surprise. She was supposed to stay quiet, but this sudden outburst is almost impressive considering how on edge she must feel. “But your grandson and I spoke about it, and we think this is going to be best for both of our families. I know there’s a feud and I’m very aware that you despise my grandfather, but Ford and I were hoping—”
I squeeze her wrist and she falls silent. Grandpop’s grinding his jaw and glaring at her like he’s about to have a heart attack, and I’m honestly not sure how much of that is feigned and how much is genuine disgust.
“Kat’s right, Grandpop,” I tell him. “I know this is sudden and surprising, but imagine what we can build together. Kat and I are going to bridge the gap between our families, and I’m hoping we can all start to move past the years and years of fighting.”
Grandpop slowly stands. He’s hunched over his desk and vibrating. I can’t tell if he’s laughing or if he really is pissed off, and some part of me starts wondering if this is one massive practical joke and not at all the mission I thought it was. Maybe my cousins got to Grandpop and they’re finally ruining me, or maybe Grandpop is testing me one final time—but no, I keep myself cool and collected. I can’t panic now. I tighten my grip on Kat as Grandpop shakes his head and meets my gaze.
“Absolutely not.” His voice is slow and solid like a rockslide.
“Grandpop—”
“No, Ford, you will listen to me. I have given you more leeway than you know, but this is too far. That girl—” He points at her like he’s gesturing toward a particularly vile lamp. “You will not marry that girl.”
I suck in a breath and slowly let it out. “I understand you feel that way, but this is happening, Grandpop. It’s happening and it’s going to be good for us.”
He slams his hands on the desk. Kat yelps and takes a step back. “I willnothave some Stocktonwhoremarried to the head of my family.” Grandpop’s practically growling and spittle splatters into the air.
Silence fills the room. I stare at Grandpop, and a sudden dark bolt of rage flows up through my middle. I release Kat and step forward until I’m staring into the old man’s eyes like I want to break the man in half. I understand this is part of the performance, that he called her a whore because that’s what he’s supposed to do, but my anger is real, it’s powerful, and it’s overwhelming.
He doesn’t know Kat, he doesn’t know her at all or know anything about her struggle, and to call her that to her face,my fucking fiancée—
I want to kill him. The fucking bastard. I want to kill himfor realand fuck any performance or deal or mission. He willnottalk about Kat like that. Nobody willevertalk about her like that again, not while she’s mine.
I speak as evenly as I can manage. “If you speak about her like that again, I will break your old fucking neck and take your family over your warm corpse. Do you understand me?”
Grandpop’s eyes widen in surprise. I’ve never spoken to him like that before, and a simmering heat rushes down into my fists. This isn’t fake—the rage is real. The anger is real. Some insane part of me wants to actually hurt my grandfather for talking to Kat like that but I don’t understand why. We both know this is all for show, all to convince Kat that this game is real, but some twisted piece of my brain hates the old piece of trash for hurting her more than necessary.
She doesn’t deserve this. And some portion of my mind understands that my rage toward my grandfather is also a rage toward myself.
“You should get out of my office and rethink this decision,” Grandpop says finally, straightening up and trying to look dignified. “Think long and hard.”
“There’s nothing to think about. I’m marrying Kat with or without your blessing.” I turn away. Kat’s standing by the door looking pale. I walk to her, take her arm, and pull her from the office. She says nothing as she stumbles out after me and I don’t stop until we’re back out front.
I’m seething. I’m actually fucking seething, and I don’t understand why. All of that was fake so why am I actually angry at the old man? Why am I acting like I really do want to marry Kat?
“That didn’t go great,” Kat ventures gently and moves closer to me. “Did you expect him to react like that?”
I shake my head and don’t reply. I’m too pissed to say anything. I take a deep breath to calm myself down and it only helps a little bit.
“Seriously, Ford,” she says and puts a hand on my arm. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I look at her, and it’s like I want to rip her to pieces or I want to fuck her into oblivion, and I don’t know which I need more. “I knew he wouldn’t be happy, I just didn’t like when he called you a—.” I stop myself before I say it. “It’s okay. It’ll be fine.”
She smiles slightly. “Honestly, it didn’t seem okay. It kind of seemed like the opposite of what we want, right? I’m supposed to help you take over, not make it harder.”
“It’s just a start. We’ll figure it out.” I turn away from her. I can’t keep doing this. Fucking hell, what is wrong with me? “Come on, I’ll have my driver take you home, and I’ll talk to him some more.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
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“We both lost our cool in there but I have a good relationship with him normally. It’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll smooth this over.”
She nods and doesn’t look like she believes me, but she lets me guide her down the steps and into a waiting car.
“What do we do next?” she asks.
“I’ll call you soon.” I glance back at the house. “Next step is move-in day.”
“Move-in day?” She sounds horrified.
“I told you, Kat. We’re going all the way.” I walk off before she can reply and the driver pulls out, taking her back home.
I head in through the front door. Grandpop’s waiting for me near the steps in the quiet of the foyer. He’s smiling and laughs as I trudge over and stand in front of him.
“That was one hell of an act,” he says, grinning, and slaps my arm happily. “How’d I do? Was I convincing?”
“You were fine.” I grind my jaw. “You really shouldn’t call her a whore though.”
His smile falters. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to feel sorry for the girl? Ford, she’s a Stockton. Who the fuck cares about her?”
“I didn’t say—” I clear my throat and gather myself. “I don’t like lying to her and we don’t need to be unnecessarily cruel about this.”
“If you can’t handle this then I’ll find someone that wants to do what it takes to lead our family.” Grandfather steps closer and his smirk is completely gone. In its place is the cold stare of the man that used to discipline me with a thin bamboo cane when I was a little boy. He’d switch my back bloody whenever I stepped out of line and I learned quickly that if I didn’t do as I was told, I’d end up bleeding and aching for days. I still have the faint scars to remind me what happens when I cross my family. “Are you backing out of our deal, Ford?”
“No, Grandpop.”
“Good. Use the girl. Get something for me and do it soon. Don’t get soft.” He turns and walks away.
I watch him go and a sick loathing surrounds my throat, but he’s right. If I want to lead this family, I need to prove that I can be strong.
I have to prove I can do whatever it takes.
Even if it means giving up what humanity I have left.
Chapter 10
Kat
Mom’s rehab clinic is in a small town a half-hour drive from Dallas. It’s a pretty building, a lot like a hotel from a distance, with high white walls all around the property to keep snooping locals away. There are pools, hiking trails, volleyball nets, even a softball field. I take the tour with the nice head doctor, and we end up sitting at a table outside under a big umbrella. “Your mother’s finishing up group right now,” the doctor says, glancing at her watch. “Any questions before I hand you over?”
“I was just wondering, you know, how she’s doing, and if maybe—” I stop myself and look away toward a group of people doing basic yoga led by a tall skinny guy with a ponytail. It’s hard to imagine that all of these people are addicts, but that’s the insidious thing about addiction—it touches everyone, every family, and nobody’s immune from it. Rich, poor, it doesn’t matter, addiction’s lurking out there ready to hijack our loved ones and steal them away.
This place looks like a vacation, but I did my research before coming out here—it’s considered the best rehab clinic in Texas.
Which is good because the best rehab clinics in Maryland, Pennsylvania, Ohio, California, and Washington all failed to straighten her out for long.
“I know this is difficult for you,” the doctor says, an older woman named Amy, “but your mother is doing great. It’s a process.”
“A very long process,” I say and meet her eye again. “This is the sixth clinic she’s been to. Six clinics over the last twenty years.”
“That’s not too bad,” she says with a smile. “I’ve met folks that have been to dozens.”
“Do any of them stay clean?”
She moves her head from side to side. “Some do, some don’t. We try to give our patients the tools they need to get away from their disease, but in the end, the choice is always with them.”
“I just want this to stick. That’s all.”
She pats my hand. “I can’t make any promises. All I can say is she’s following the rules, she’s participating, and she’s making good progress. Ah, and there she is now.”
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The doctor stands as Mom approaches. She’s wearing gray sweats, a navy top, and a beige shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She smiles tentatively at me and I can tell she’s sober. I can see it in the way she’s really looking at me and actually seeing me, like she’s here in the room and not floating off somewhere else either stoned out of her mind or itching herself and waiting for her next chance to get high.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” the doctor says and walks off as I stand go give my mom a hug.
She feels bony and thin. It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other—she disappeared from the house about six months ago and called maybe twice in all that time before getting arrested and ending up here. She looks older, rougher, more beat up, and I wonder what she’s been doing with herself and decide I really don’t want to know.
That’s how it always is with my mom—she has an entire life without me, an entire world filled with pain that I’ll never know or understand, and I don’t want to see it. My mom is still my mom, even if she has a disease that takes her from me.
“Sweetie,” she says, and I feel all the love I’ve been missing from my life come flowing out of her in that one word. Mom’s an addict and a junkie and a mess, but she hasalwaysloved me in her own way. I never questioned that even when she was at her lowest. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I missed you too, Mom. Are they treating you okay here?”
“I’m fine, sweetie, I’m fine. I’m more worried about you.” She laughs and steers me to sit down at the table again. I blink tears from my eyes and Mom brushes my hair back from my face. “I know living with those sharks hasn’t been easy on you. I keep saying you need to move out.”
“I can’t, and I don’t want to fight about this again,” I say and try not to let myself get annoyed. We’ve had this discussion a thousand times: I’m stuck living at the main house so long as Grandfather controls all my finances, and I don’t see him relinquishing my trust anytime soon. It was structured such that I’d control it myself when I turned thirty, and not a second before, and that’s unique in the family—everyone else got theirs at eighteen. But I can thank my mother for my situation. Grandfather said it was for my own good and a way to keep Momfrom getting her hands on what’s mine. I suspect it’s more of a way to control me too, but I never say that out loud.
“You’re right, you’re right, I don’t want to fight either. So, tell me everything that’s been going on in your life since I last saw you. How long has it been? Three months?”
“Six,” I say gently and try not to let it hurt my heart when her face shows nothing. Her sense of time is always a mess when she’s deep in the junk and she probably doesn’t remember half the time she’s been gone. “But life’s been good,” I say and push myself forward. I talk about my friends and work, and I can feel the Ford subject beginning to bubble up inside of me, since that’s really the only thing I want to talk about these days. Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “And recently Grandfather’s been trying to find a husband for me but I think I’m going to marry Ford Arc instead.”
Mom’s jaw drops open and she doesn’t say anything for several long moments as that statement sinks in. I’m not sure she knows who Ford is but she definitely knows that last name. I shift uncomfortably as I wait for her reaction, and I could’ve probably been a little more diplomatic about that revelation, but this felt like the sort of thing that needed to be ripped out of me like tearing a band-aid off a hairy arm. I got it over with and now it’s out there, and Mom’s looking at me like she thinks I might be joking. I don’t want to have to tell her it’s very serious.
But slowly, she says, “Why’s my father trying to find a husband for you?”
I clear my throat. “I just told you I might marry Ford Arc andthat’swhat you ask?”
She shrugs. “I’m taking it one thing at a time. That’s what the therapists keep telling me in here, one day at a time. See, sweetie, I’m learning.”
“Grandfather thinks I’ve been single and useless for long enough.” Mom scowls and shakes her head. I say quickly, “He didn’t approach it that way, but you know how he is.”
“Typical of my father. If you’re not doing something to glorify the all-powerful and almighty Stockton family, you’re worthless. There’s no intrinsic importance to anyone, only whatever we bring to the country club. It’s nice to hear he hasn’t changed, except it’s also not.”
“He hasn’t and that means I need to keep him happy if I’m going to have him pay for all your bills.” I regret it as soon as the words are out. Mom grimaces like I’ve kicked her in the stomach, and she looks away toward the pools. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, Mom, it’s not like that, it’s only—”
“Stop,” she says and holds a hand up. “Don’t. I’m acutely aware of why I’m here right now. Your grandfather controls our finances and he has never let me forget it. I can handle the truth.”
“I know, but that wasn’t very nice. I don’t blame you for any of this, I’m just saying, Grandfather’s at the point where we’re running out of grace. Letting him pick my husband might—” I shrug a little. “Although I think I’m going to screw that up.”
“Look, sweetie. I love you, but you know how I feel about your grandfather. Things are just—” She struggles for the word and settles on, “Complicated.”
Which is an understatement. Mom and Grandfather have always had a fraught relationship. Grandfather said they were so closewhen she was younger to the point where they’d spend days and weeks together, sometimes leaving the family to go on long fishing trips, but mostly spending quiet afternoons in the library reading and listening to music and talking. She was the clear favorite up until she turned twenty and discovered drugs. After that, Mom slowly drifted away from him, met my father, get pregnant, had me, went through all sorts of mistakes and relapses, and broke Grandfather’s heart over and over again. A lot of resentment and bitterness is baked into their relationship at this point, and I don’t know how to untangle it all or if I even could. Grandfather loves Mom, but he’s also tired of hurting and tired of watching his favorite girl fail over and over again.
And I think Mom still loves him too in her heart, but she also hates him and resents the way he controls the family. She never fit in with the Stocktons and their upper-class privilege in the same way I don’t and I think that always bothered Grandfather. But apparently, he thought she was funny and clever and he loved her free spirit, which is why he’s been so protective of her for all these years. He could’ve cut her off sooner, and there are half a dozen times I thought he might, but instead he always came back for her and always came through.
Now though, I don’t know. Mom seems so broken and sad, and Grandfather doesn’t talk about her with the same spark that he used to, and I don’t know how I can possibly fix whatever snapped between them. If it evencanbe fixed.
I tell her, “The truth is, Grandfather wants me to marry someone useful to the family, and I don’t even blame him.” I hold my hand up when Mom tries to interrupt. “But I realized something. Grandfather’s always going to have control of us if I go through with this. My whole life will be spent doing whatever he wants, and when he dies, I’ll be stuck doing whatever the new headof the family wants. It’ll never be about me, never, ever, ever. Which is why I might marry Ford.”
Mom blinks at that and tilts her head. “You’re saying youwantto marry Ford? Have you two been dating?”
“No, I barely even know him.”
“And yet?” She sounds totally mystified. “This is what… you… want?”
“Yes. But not because I love Ford. Or because I even like him all that much. But mostly because he wants to marry me for his own reasons, and I can use him to take care of you and get a little independence for myself. I won’t be reliant on Grandfather anymore. I won’t even need the family.”
“Honey, wait, hold on. You don’t need to marry anyone just to take care of me. I’m fine, I can—” She stops there and the silence is almost painful since we both know whatever she’s about to say isn’t true. Mom would be dead a dozen times over, thrown in jail, beat up on the side of the road, homeless and abandoned and rotting if it weren’t for Grandfather. “I don’t want you to marry Ford if it’s only for my sake,” she says softly.
“It’s not just about you. It’s also about making my own choices and being my own person for once. And the look on Grandfather’s face when he finds out I’m marrying a guy from thedreadedArc family.”
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Mom laughs and pulls at her hair. It’s a nervous habit that feels so intensely familiar because I got it from her. “Father really does hate those Arcs, doesn’t he?”
“It’s stupid, but whatever. I know this is crazy, but what do you think? Am I making a huge mistake? Should I just—marry whoever Grandfather wants and not ruin everything?”
Mom sits back for a moment and studies me. She finally reaches out and takes my hand and holds it tightly. Her fingers are skinny and her skin is more wrinkled and drier than I remember, but it’s my mother, and I missed her so intensely that the suddenly physical touch is almost painful. I have to blink back the tears.
“I want you to do what you want, sweetie,” she says quietly. “You need a little more rebellion in your life. Maybe not as much as me, but a little more. Don’t marryanyoneif that’s what you need. Forget about your grandfather. Forget about the family. Forget aboutme. Do what you want.”
I chew on my lip and don’t respond. That’s easy for her to say—she’s been doing whatever she wants for my whole life and look where it’s gotten her. Nowhere and nothing, stuck in a rehab clinic, halfway to jail. If I listen to her now, she’ll probably be dead in a year, and I could never live with myself if that happened.
“I want to marry Ford,” I say like I’m trying to convince myself.
“Then I guess that’s what you should do.” She smiles slightly. “What’s he like? Is he handsome?”
“Mom.”
“Come on, tell me about my future son-in-law.”
I tell her what I can about Ford: yes, he’s handsome, and he’s also rich and smart and outgoing and arrogant. “There’s notmuch else to say,” I admit. “We’ve spoken maybe a handful of times.”
“That’s a good starting place at least. I’ve seen a lot of different relationships in my day and ruined a whole lot of them too, but I’ve figured out that love can bloom almost anywhere if you really want it to.”
“I don’t know about love. I’d be happy with friendship.”
“Sure, sweetie, sure, but I think you should aim a little higher. It’s your life, after all. You shouldn’t live it for your grandfather and you certainly shouldn’t live it against him.”
I give her a tight hug and we end up talking about her rehab after that. She goes on about the doctors and the other patients, and then the hour’s up and it’s time for me to leave. She walks with me back to where the car’s waiting and squeezes both my arms.
“I know I’m an awful Mom, sweetie, but don’t give up on me, okay?” I don’t let myself cry. It’s the same thing every time, and I reply the same way, and nothing ever changes.
“I won’t, I promise.”
“That’s my girl.” She kisses my hair and sighs. “You always were the good one, you know that? I don’t know why your grandfather can’t see it.”
“Maybe one day.”
She smiles sadly because we both know that’ll never happen. I watch her head back to the clinic, limping slightly like her hip’s bothering her. I’m stunned by how old she looks and how much time has passed and how fast it’s all moving, and I’m desperate to pause our lives right here, right now, right where she’s sober and thinking clearly and looking if not happy then at least alive,and maybe we can exist here forever together and that would be enough. But life is change and there is no pause button, and my phone starts to ring.
I pull it out as I turn to the car and frown at Sara Lynn’s name on the screen. “Hello?” I say and figure she called the wrong person.
“Kat,” she says and her voice is sharp and on the edge of yelling. “You wouldnotbelieve who I just spoke to. Can you guess? No, don’t bother, I spoke to Laney Williams, andshespoke to Brice Rowe who is now Brice Scavo, and her husband is best friends with Ford Arc, anddo you know what I heard?”
I stand there in stunned silence. How the heck did word travel this fast? I didn’t tell anyone, not even Tina and Melody, much less anyone in or anywhere near my family. And still somehow Sara Lynn knows. This is what happens when your entire life is spent digging up details and gossiping apparently—Sara Lynn is like a sponge for information, especially information about her own family that she’s not supposed to have. It’s like she’s haunting me, stalking me, and keeping tabs on my every movement, and it creeps me the hell out.
“What did you hear?” I hate that my voice sounds meek and scared.
“I heard you’re involved with Ford Arc.TheFord Arc. You know, son of the Arc family, the family our grandfather despises most of all in the world. I heard you’re somehow connected to him. Like you two are seeing each other? But that can’t be real, right, I mean, why would Ford ever want to be anywhere near a girl like you? God, Kit-Kat, tell me that isn’t true, tell me you’re not somehow datingFord Arcbecause that’s a nightmare, truly a nightmare. Please tell me it isn’t real before I vomit right here in my mouth.”
I set my jaw and dig my fingers into the roof of the car. That nickname rings through my head:Kit-Kat. She’s the only one that still uses it, and only when she wants to hurt me. I know she does it on purpose. Sara Lynn comes off like she’s an emptyheaded socialite but that’s all an act—she’s much cleverer and quick-witted than most people realize. When she wants to be exceedingly cruel, she can come up with new and unusual forms of punishment.
“For your information, Sara Lynn, I am going tomarryFord.”
That silences her.
I swear I can hear her breathing. Like she’s trying to suck enough air into her lungs but can’t seem to do it. I stand there and puff up my chest and tilt up my chin and try to face this like a big girl—
“You’re insane,” she says finally. “Oh my god. You’re joking, right? This is a joke?”
“It’s not a joke. Ford heard about Grandfather looking for a husband for me, and he offered me a deal. I decided to take it.”
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“Oh my god.” She laughs like she can barely believe this. “Holy wow. You sold yourself to Ford Arc? What does that make you? Are you whoring yourself to the Arc family? Kit-Kat, this is horrible, are you on drugs like your mother? No, please, don’t tell me, I really don’t want to know. You’re blowing up your life, you’re blowing up the entire family. What are you thinking! Grandfather’s going to kill you, Kit-Kat. He’s going to murder you right in the middle of the house and I’m going to have to watch the maids scrub your blood from the carpet for a whole week, it’s going to be ghastly. What were youthinking,you stupid girl? God, you must be—”
I hang up.
My head’s pounding. I know cutting her off like that will only make her even angrier, and now she’s probably going to tell everyone and make my life hell, but I couldn’t listen to her go on and on like that anymore. Besides, I already know I’m in deep crap with Grandfather. That’s the whole point of this. He’s going to kick me out of the family and stop paying for my mother’s treatment, and he might even use his connections to get Mom thrown into prison after all.
My only hope is that Ford can protect her.
That’s the whole deal. Instead of selling myself to my grandfather and the Stockton family, I’m selling myself to Ford.
This ismychoice. It’s not ideal, but at least it’s the path I’m choosing instead of doing whatever my grandfather tells me to do. I can’t pretend like Ford’s a great guy and I’m madly in love with him—even if there is an incredible spark between us, that’s more like lust than anything else—but he can’t be any worse than what I’ve put up with already.
I wish I could be like Mom. Minus the drugs. I wish I could do whatever I wanted without caring about anyone else in the world. Unfortunately, my mother is an addict, and if I’m not able to take care of her then I have to find someone else who will.
I refuse to let my mother spiral deeper into her addiction and I refuse to give up on her.
But as I get into the car, I’m intensely aware that something very, very bad is waiting for me back home.
Chapter 11
Kat
Isit on a chair in front of the fire in Grandfather’s office, and he stands with his back to me staring into the flames.
It’s very dramatic. Grandfather always was into showmanship.
Sweat trickles down my back. It’s hot in here and smells like ash, cigar smoke, and whiskey. I glance at the books on the shelves and imagine pulling them down, one by one, and throwing them into the fire just to watch Grandfather squirm. Some sick part of me would love to do it—they’re expensive books, old books, the sort of books my family is extremely into, but they’re basically decoration. Except I couldn’t live with myself if I did something so heinous.
I just want to hurt Grandfather. I want to hurt all of them.
“Is it true, Katherine?” Grandfather doesn’t turn to look at me. He’s been standing there for nearly five minutes and I’ve been sitting here in silence the whole time. Nobody would look at me when I got back to the house after visiting with my mom, and I guess Sara Lynn ran around spreading the good news the firstchance she got. I hate her, and I’m not surprised, and I’m happy she’s not around to rub this in my face herself.
“Yes,” I say simply.
Grandfather’s head droops. I shuffle myself on the seat and sit up straighter. I try to stop myself from shaking but I can’t quite do it. My whole life I’ve done everything my grandfather has asked of me even when I didn’t want to. I’ve followed the rules, kept myself out of the limelight, and sucked it up when things didn’t go my way. He’s given me small privileges in return: money, clothes, the job at the farm. But mostly I’m expected to keep quiet, stay meek, and obey.
Which is what I’ve always done and maybe could’ve kept on doing my whole life if it weren’t for Ford Arc.
He showed me another way and now all of the resentment I’ve been cultivating deep inside for so long is beginning to seep out.
“Why?” he turns to face me. His expression is curiously blank like he’s not quite sure how he feels. I take the ring Ford gave me from my pocket and slip it onto my finger. Grandfather watches the gesture, and he grimaces like I kicked him right in the stomach. His right hand presses against his chest, and I worry I’m giving him a heart attack, but Grandfather remains standing and glaring at me, and I have to remind myself that this is all a performance.
“You told me that I needed a husband. Well, I found one.”
“This isnotwhat I meant,” he says sharply. “I wanted you to marry a man of my choosing. A suitable man from a good family. Not some upstart pseudo-gangster piece of garbage like that Ford Arc. Do you know the sort of men he associates with? His whole family is trash and you know it, and now you’re goingto wave him in my face? Why are you doing this, Katherine? Haven’t I been good to you and your mother?”
I clamp down on a thousand answers. I want to tell him exactly what he’s been like—controlling, demeaning, aggressive, horrible—but that won’t fix anything here. And if I’m honest with myself, I feel my resolve beginning to waver. This isGrandfather, the head of my family, the man I’ve always listened to and looked up to and wanted to impress since I was a little girl, and now I’m going against him. I’m hurting him. What is wrong with me?
My only goal right now is to get through this conversation in one piece and accept whatever happens from here on out. I’ve chosen my path and now I’m going to walk it, even if it hurts.
I say, “Ford is from a good family, and we have an understanding.”
“An understanding. Which means you’re fine withwhoringyourself to an Arc.”
“Grandfather,” I say and my own impatience shows through. “If this is whoring then that’s what you were trying to do to me before I made this decision.”
His eyes widen, and we’re plunged into silence again. He grunts, turns away, and walks to a nearby shelf where he has a built-in humidor. The tobacco stench triples when he opens it, chooses a cigar, cuts it, and lights it. The smoke curls up toward the ceiling. He’s not supposed to smoke anymore, the doctors told him it was bad for his heart, but apparently, he doesn’t care right now.
“You will give up on this rebellious fantasy.” He gestures at me with the glowing cigar like he wants to put it out on my skin. I bethe would, too. Some part of me trembles at the thought. “I don’t know who put you up to it, your mother perhaps, but—”
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“No,” I say and shake my head. “She had nothing to do with this and I’m not going to stop.”
“Katherine. Why would you do this now, of all times? You were so close—”
“To doing whateveryouwant?” He blinks at me as if that’s a bad thing, and I push forward even if every part of me is screaming to stop. This isGrandfather! I can’t disobey him! “Ford’smychoice, Grandfather. I know you hate his family, but maybe this can be a bridge. Maybe we can put the feud behind us and finally move on. You can talk to Ford’s family—”
“I’d rather die.”
“Then you can at least stop coming up with new ways to destroy them. Grandfather, please. Ford isn’t what you think he is.” Although I’m not sure that last part is true.
Grandfather watches me, puffing away. Smoke thickens, whirls in swirling movements through the air currents, and obscures his face until he finally waves it all away.
“You’re right,” he says, and I lean back in shock.
“I am?”
“No, not about what you said. But you’re right that we can look at this as an opportunity.”
“An opportunity… how?” I ask, dreading the answer, but he doesn’t speak. He walks away from me and stares at a window, his back straight. He waves the cigar around like he’s conducting a symphony and I try not to groan. Grandfather does this whenhe’s thinking, and it’s the most absurd aspect of his personality, but at least he’s not yelling at me.
Slowly, he turns around again.
“You will spy on the Arc family for me.”
“Grandfather,” I say sharply. “You have to be joking.”
“I am not joking at all. If you’re serious about this then we will make the best of a bad situation. Find out whatever you can about them, from their finances to their properties to their debts and their investments, everything you can about their restaurants and their business. Feed it all back to me.”
“No,” I say and get to my feet. I’m trembling with fear and anger, but I’m not angry with Grandfather—this is exactly the sort of thing I’d expect of him—but angry with myself. Because I’m considering it. This is exactly the olive branch that could draw me back into the fold and all I’d have to do is betray Ford. “I’m not going to marry Ford just to try to destroy him.”
“Katherine, you will listen to me and you will do what’s best for your family.”
I grimace and step back, flinching away like he’s going to hit me. Grandfather’s never raised a hand to me in his life, but his words and his tone can be just as bad. I’m trembling like a little girl afraid to get punished. I haven’t seen Grandfather like this in a long time.
“I can’t,” I say quietly.
“You can and you will. Unless you want me to cut you and your mother out of the family completely, you will do this for me.”
I shake my head and move to the door. “Don’t make me.”
He sighs like he’s talking to an unruly child. “Youchosethis, Katherine. I don’t want you to marry that vile Arc boy, but if you insist then what can I do to stop you? At least this way you can be useful again. I’ve tried so hard to bring you into the family and make you a part of us and this is what you do to me. But I love you and I will forgive you, if you’re willing to give me what I want. You can do this, Katherine. You can and you will.”
I stop at the doorway. My head’s spinning. Spy on Ford? Tell Grandfather about the Arc family? Maybe he’s right and I could pull it off. Ford wants me to move in with him soon. Once I’m there, I’ll have access to his stuff—his files and computers and phones and whatever else—and I’ll be able to find information that Grandfather might want to use against their family. But if I do that, what would it make me?
I have to be strong. Years and years of conditioning is screaming at me to do whatever Grandfather says, but this is wrong. I didn’t expect Grandfather to make this offer, but it doesn’t change a thing. I’m marrying Ford for my reasons and for nothing else. I won’t let Grandfather bully me. I won’t let him bribe me. I’m my own person now.
At least that’s what I’m telling myself even as all my willpower begins to crumble.
“Think about it,” he says as I pull open the door and hurry out of there without speaking. “Don’t forget who you are, Katherine! You’re a Stockton!”
That echoes through my mind as I retreat into my room and lock the door.
You’re a Stockton.
I wonder if that’s true.
Chapter 12
Kat
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“Welcome to your new home, future wife.” Ford gestures as the elevator dings and the doors slide open to a beautiful apartment near the top of a residential tower in a great neighborhood in downtown Dallas.
It’s everything I’ve always dreamed of: modern, spacious, clean. Hardwood floors, updated kitchen, incredible views of the city. It must’ve cost Ford a small fortune.
“Is this yours?” I ask as I move through the entryway and into the kitchen and living area.
“I bought it this week. I didn’t think you’d want to come live in the Arc family mansion and I figured I wouldn’t be welcome in the Stockton house. So here we are, neutral ground. Do you like it?”
I slowly nod as I turn circles and look all around. “I love it.” Everything is perfect and new and shining—except it’s nearly empty. “There’s not much stuff though.”
“No, you’ll have to furnish it.”
“And decorate.” I chew on my lip, already considering, thinking of styles and stores and boutiques I can hunt through, and excitement bubbles through my body. “Nobody’s ever asked me to decorate before.”
“You’ll be fine. I bet you have a dozen Pinterest boards ready and waiting. By the way, I like the colors black, white, and gray.”
I laugh and give him a look. “No big shock there.”
He drifts over to the windows. “I want you to feel at home here. We’re going to share this place for a while… for a long while. We’re going tolivetogether here. You might as well make it your own.”
“You don’t have any input on that?”
“I’ll have an office upstairs.” He gives me a look when my eyebrows shoot up. “Yes, there are two floors. Yes, it wasveryexpensive.”
“Great. You can decorate your office in black and white skulls or whatever you’re into… and I’ll do the rest of the place.”
“Except for the bedroom. We’ll do that together. Speaking of which, let’s finish the tour. Come with me.” He drifts down a back hall and up a staircase. I follow him at a distance with a knot in my gut.
Can I really do this? Move in with a man I barely know—a man I barelylike—and leave my family behind? It’s terrifying, this leap I’m taking, and I feel like I’m soaring through the air with no net beneath me, no parachute to break my fall, nobody down there to catch me. Only Ford and me, plummeting together.
It’s terrifying, but it’s also exciting.
I get to furnish and decorate this apartment however I want. It’s a blank canvas and I can go wild. I’m already spinning through ideas and dreams, and I’m itching to get started. The only drawback is I’m doing this withhim, with Ford, but if I ignore the fact that I don’t like him all that much then it’s really not so bad.
I’m dizzy as I reach the top of the steps. He looks back as I steady myself on the wall and his handsome lips quirk down. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
He considers that for a moment longer before leading me into the master bedroom.
It’s bigger than I expected. There’s a huge king mattress with four tall posts and netting around the top like a princess’s bed. The closet is bigger than the one in my room back home and the attached bathroom is borderline absurd in its luxury. I run my fingers over pristine countertops and stare at the enormous shower with its dark tile. “You really do like black,” I murmur to myself.
“Come back out here,” Ford calls from the main room.
I stand in the bathroom doorway leaning against the frame as he watches me from the foot of the bed. My hands rub against my thighs nervously and I don’t know what to think. It’s beautiful and comfortable and nicer than I ever dreamed, but it’s also cold and impersonal and foreign and strange. I’m supposed to make this place a home, but how am I supposed to do that when I’m living with a man I barely know?
“Can I ask you something?” I blurt out before he starts saying whatever it is he’s thinking.
“Go ahead.”
“What’s your favorite TV show?”
His eyebrows raise. “Do you plan on decorating this place in the style ofSeinfeld?”
“Really,Seinfeld?”
“Seriously, Kat, I’m not into the whole retro ‘90s thing.”
“No, that’s not why I’m asking. My favorite show isThe Office, by the way.”
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“That’s in my top five.” He tilts his head. “Are you trying to get to know me?”
I take a step forward, frustrated. “That’s the idea, isn’t it? I mean, you’re supposed to be my husband but I don’t actually know anything about you.”
“I amnota list of my favorite media.”
“I know that, but it’s a place to start. What about music? You like music, right? Don’t tell me you’re into, like, death metal or something.”
“I have a record collection. Mostly jazz.”
I laugh a little. “You do? Jazz? Sure, right, okay, you collect records, why not. What else don’t I know about you?” He stares at me and I feel stupid, almost childish, but I can’t help myself. All this is stuff that would’ve come up sooner or later through dates or conversations or whatever, except we’re skipping all that and diving right into the living portion of our lives, and I don’t know if I can sleep in the same bed with a man if I don’t even know if he prefers The Beatles or The Rolling Stones. Not that itmatters, but the fact of knowing means something.
We’re strangers and the gap between us feels bigger than ever.
My heart starts racing and I turn away from him. I walk to the window and look out at the city and, oh my god, we’re up really high and, oh my god, I’m going to live with this man, with this total stranger, and I have to be hiswife.
“Kat,” he says and stands. I can’t look at him right now. “What do you want to know about me?”
“Anything. Everything. I don’t know, something to make me feel like you’re not some total stranger.” I turn on him and I’m trying to catch my breath but I can’t seem to calm my speeding heart. “You want me to move in here with you but I don’t even know your middle name or your favorite color and, oh my god, don’t joke right now and say black, I swear I’ll punch you in the throat.”
“No need to throat punch,” he says. “My favorite color is green.”
“God. Right. Sure. Like money.”
“No, green like grass after it was freshly cut. A bright, summer green.”
“Oh. That sounds kind of nice.”
“My favorite smell is freshly turned dirt. You know, the smell of your boots after you come in from planting flowers and it’s this deep, rough, musky smell? Yes, I plant flowers, don’t look at me like that. I like to garden, and I like to work outside with my hands, and when the landscapers come every year to do the mansion’s beds, I always go down and join them for a few hours. They tolerate me because I speak to them in Spanish. I also know French, Italian, some Mandarin, some Japanese, and a bit of Russian.”
“You speak six languages.” I laugh stupidly. “And you like to garden.”
“I work out almost every day. I run three times per week. I listen to NPR in the morning and podcasts in the evening, mostly history but some pop culture and some politics, and yes, I like music, and my favorite band is The Smashing Pumpkins.”
“The Smashing Pumpkins.”
“Billy Corgan is a genius.” He gets closer to me, watching carefully. “I like the feeling of the sun on my face when I’m sitting near the ocean. I readThe New York Timesand think CNN is trash. I like the first sip of a cold beer. I like to dance, but only when I have to, and I like it when you laugh. Have I told you that yet? I like your smile.”
“Really?” I start to grin but quickly stop myself. As he stands a few feet away from me, I realize that my panic is subsiding and I can finally think clearly again. I find it hard to fit the man that likes all those things with the bastard I’ve gotten to know, but I also realize I’m more than a little prejudiced against him. Ford Arc has a mystique and I’ve bought into that mystique, and the guy I have in my head would never garden or learn French or dance whether he has to or not. But the Ford Arc in my head isn’t the Ford Arc standing before me right now.
“Really,” he says and takes another step closer. I back off until I bump up against the window, and this time he doesn’t stop. The space between us closes like a vacuum sucking the air from the room, and I feel my heart racing again as his body looms over mine.
His hands touch my hips. Tentatively, almost gently, like he’s not sure if I’ll say no, and when I don’t, his fingers press into myskin and move up to my waist. I let out a little gasp as his left hand slides around to press into the small of my back right above my ass and his right hand tangles into my hair.
My lips open with a soft gasp and I’m intensely aware that we’re alone in this room together, very, very alone, and this man can do whatever he wants.
And I want him to.
He says, “I understand what you’re feeling right now, I really do. You’re uncertain and you’re afraid, but I want to remind you of the deal we made when you put that ring on your finger. I’m not looking for halfway. I’m not looking for something fake, some pathetic facsimile of a marriage, and I don’t want some pretty plastic trophy wife that smiles on my arm and takes nice pictures but leaves our bed cold and lonely. I want arealwife, one that’s warm, one that’s in my life day in and day out, one that’s in my bed each night when I get home and is happy and eager to be there. Fuck, you know what, forgethappy, I won’t demand that of you, but I need you to be willing to try. I need your body and your lips and the smell of your hair and that gorgeous little whimper you make when I kiss you. I need you whispering my name when I get you pregnant. If you’re going to do this, Kat, I need you to do it, and I promise I’ll spank you nice and raw if ask me politely.”
I blink up into his eyes as my heart goes berserk. What the hell is with this asshole, threatening to spank me, and what the hell is withmereacting like I want him to do it? Like I want him to bend me over and slap my ass over and over until my pale skin is pink and I’m aching for more?
What’s broken in me? What’s making melikethis?
It’s his vulnerability. Which is strange because there’s nothing but strength in his eyes and in his hands, but there’s still something intensely emotional about what he’s saying.
About what he wants, what he pictures his life should be.
A wife. A warm wife, one in his bed, one happy to see him.
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Love. He’s describinglove. A twisted version of love, but still, that’s love.
He wants me to love him or at least as close as I can manage.
But how is that even possible?
And is he offering to give me the same thing in return?
“I told you I’d try,” I say, and my voice sounds like it’s a million miles away.
He pulls my hair softly, just enough to tilt my chin up toward him. I’m trying to keep myself under control but the way he’s touching me, the way he’s looking at me like he wants to devour my lips, I don’t know how long I can take it.
“Trying isn’t enough. I need you to give yourself over to me, Kat. I know that’s demanding. I’m selfish and uncompromising, and I won’t take it easy on you. But if you give me what I want, I swear, I’ll give you more in return.”
My mouth opens for a moment and I think of that kiss, our first kiss, the stolen kiss in the back of that cab, of his taste and his groan, and the whimper that escaped my lips, and the way I’ve been bending the memory of that moment over and over in my mind, replaying it and repeating it and obsessing over the details, and how I have him right here in our own bedroomstaring down into my eyes. I want another kiss. I want another taste. And most of all, I want to live up to what he’s asking.
I put my hands on his chest. His heart’s racing like mine and a spike of realization drops down into my core. This is aman, Ford’s a person, a human with feelings and wants and needs, hopelessly complex and inevitably flawed, but he’s right here and he’s solid and handsome and beautiful and maybe that’s enough for right now.
“You’re asking a lot from me,” I say softly, nearly panting now. “Do I get to make demands too?”
“Go ahead. I want you to want something.”
“No matter what happens, promise you won’t hurt me.” The words come out in a tumble and I don’t know where I find them, but it’s like they’ve been waiting deep down inside of my body for this moment. I feel a flash of Sara Lynn, a flash of my grandfather, a flash of my uncles and aunts and cousins, the whole family hurting me again and again, my mother and her addiction and the drugs that ruin her, and my missing father, and all the little ways I’ve failed and given up and let go and given in. I feel it all in that one request, and for a second, the room goes still.
His grip in my hair loosens. His mouth opens and works, but he says nothing. There’s a strange pained look in his eyes like he’s digesting something sharp and ugly, and he’s afraid it’s likely to tear through his stomach and rip the rest of him to little pieces. I don’t want him to hesitate. It kills me that he’s not speaking. I’m not asking for much—I’ve never asked for much in my life, I’ve never been a nuisance, never been a bother, always did my best to remain unobtrusive and quiet and out of the way—but now I have my own reasons, my own stipulations and provisions andrequirements. All I need is for him to promise not to hurt me. That’s all I need.
“I don’twantto hurt you,” he whispers and it’s like he’s stabbing himself in the heart and I don’t understand why. “I can’t promise that I won’t.”
I feel like I’m falling again. “Why not?” I blink back tears, and I feel stupid and foolish and childish. What a silly, naive thing to want, and now I wish he’d let me go and we could forget about all this.
But his grip in my hair tightens again, and his face takes on a serious stare as he meets my eyes like he’s determined to make me grasp something out of reach.
“What we’re doing is complicated and painful, but I promise that I won’t ever let anyoneelsehurt you. Not your family, not my family. You’re mine to hurt if that’s what happens.”
“But you can’t protect me from you?”
“I don’t think anyone can protect themselves from me.” He stoops down and his lips brush against my jaw. “I swear I’ll give myself to you, fully and without hesitation, if you do the same. I promise I’ll protect you. That’s the best I can do.”
I let his words sink in. It’s not what I asked for, but it’s close, it’s closer than anyone’s ever offered, and if I’m honest with myself, I think I always knew that Ford himself was the problem, not my family, not his family, butFord. He’s dangerous, and letting myself get tangled with him is like begging someone to come here and jam a spear down my throat, but I’m so beyond caring at this point.
“Then I guess I should start looking for couches,” I say.
And Ford laughs and lets me go, and I laugh back, and the tension between us only grows and nothing’s been resolved, but we’re doing this and doing it for real.
Chapter 13
Kat
Istand alone in the bathroom—my new bathroom with its pretty fixtures and big mirror—and stare at myself. I stare at my shirt, thin white cotton with “St. Jude Academy” in blocky yellow letters across the chest, a shirt I’ve had for most of my life, and my little gray shorts that show off a lot of my legs, and I never realized how little my pajamas cover up.
I’m tempted to put on another layer. Sweatpants, a heavy jacket, anything to put him a little bit further from my skin. It’s half past ten and Ford’s already sitting up reading on his phone, his bedside table lamp glowing, wearing only a pair of loose joggers and nothing on top, his muscular chest rising and falling with every breath he takes, and I doubt my willpower is strong enough to resist him.
The tension’s still there. It’s been floating between us since we spoke earlier today and chose to keep going even though things aren’t perfect. We talked about buying furniture—I have a blank check, hurrah, the fool doesn’t know what he’s about to get himself into—and we talked about lifestyles and what we like toeat and our schedules and all of that stuff. We had dinner, even watched a little TV together, before we came up here to bed.
It was the most mundane night imaginable. He’s putting in an effort. I didn’t think Ford was capable of something so domestic. And yet despite how boring and ordinary everything seemed on the surface, bubbling below that was the constant fear and worry that I might screw something up or he might take things too far, or what if I’m not good enough, or what if he turns out to be a violent psychopath, and a thousand other worries buzz around my head.
Now I’m supposed to go out there, get into bed, and sleep.
I feel like I might explode, but I can’t hide in here forever.
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I turn to the door and open it. Ford glances up and stares at me for a few seconds too long. His eyes widen, just a hint, and I feel myself blushing. He licks his lips, tilts his head and lowers his phone, and he’s about to say something, make some stupid joke, but I cut him off before he does.
“I want to make a rule,” I say loudly.
“Okay,” he says and puts his phone aside. “You have my attention.”
I chew on my lip and wring my hands together before holding them out, palms up. “Let’s pretend there’s an invisible line down the middle of the bed. That invisible line is made up of sharks—”
“Sharks?”
“Very hungry sharks with a taste for human flesh.”
“Why not lasers? Or lava?”
“Sharks are scarier. Can you just?” I glare at him and put my hands on my hips.
“Fine, okay, shark line.”
“I want you toswearyou won’t cross that line. You’ll respect the sharks. Fear the sharks even. You willnotcome to my side of the bed tonight under any circumstances.”
A smile quirks his scarred lips. “What if you ask me to?”
“Assume I’m under duress and refuse to comply. Remind me about the sharks.”
“What ifIwant to?”
“Sharks.”
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, and I reconsider this idea but only for a second. One nice arm isn’t going to change my mind, even if it’s averynice arm. “Okay. I swear I won’t cross the invisible line, but sooner or later we’ll have to call an exterminator to take care of the sharks.”
“Let’s just give it some time, okay?” I move toward the bed, feeling a little bit better. “I’m still new at this.” I climb in and pull the sheets over me and lie there staring at the ceiling not sure what the hell we do now.
Ford hesitates then turns off the light. The room plunges into darkness. “Have you ever shared a bed with a man before?” he asks.
“That’s an extremely rude and personal question.”
He laughs softly and shifts down lower. “That’s a no.”
“Don’t be a jerk. I’ll move the sharks closer to your side.”
“Have you ever had a serious boyfriend? Oh, god, don’t tell me our kiss was your first kiss.”
I glare at him as my eyes adjust to the darkness. He’s looking at me with a massive smirk. “That wasnotmy first kiss, you prick.”
“I figured. You’re much too good of a kisser for you to be completely inexperienced.”
I hesitate and shimmy slightly. “I’m a good kisser?”
“An extremely good kisser.”
“You have a lot of experience then? I mean, with, uh, kissing.”
“Yes, Kat, I havea lotof experience.” His eyes are practically shining in the darkness and I bite my lip trying to imagine Ford with his countless women. I feel a pang of jealousy, but that’s crazy, right? He might’ve gone through dozens of flings and one-night stands, but here I am alone in his bed with him, wearing his ring—
And I don’t care about any of this, he doesn’t mean anything to me, this is just a mutually beneficial arrangement, and I have to keep reminding myself of that.
We lapse into silence. I’m intensely aware of him on his side of the invisible shark line. Each breath, each movement, everything is magnified tenfold. I last maybe thirty seconds before I ask him, “What were you thinking that night? When you came into my cab?”
He glances at me and doesn’t seem surprised by my question. “I wanted to get your attention.”
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“Did you plan on kissing me?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Then why? I mean, why kiss me that night? Before we really agreed to do anything?”
He lets out a long breath and says, “I wanted to.”
“It’s that simple? You wanted something so you just—did it?”
“It’s that simple. You’re a beautiful girl, Kat, and maybe you don’t realize it but men want you. They want to do things to you.”
My throat tightens as warmth floods my core. “You mean, you want me.Youwant to do things to me.”
“Yes, I do,” he says, and he’s not smiling, and he’s not joking, and oh, god, I almost regret asking, but I want him to elaborate so badly it hurts.
I feel like I’m burning up and my brain’s on fire and my middle is so warm I think I might be melting. I don’t know what’s going on with me but I’m alone in bed with a man I’m engaged to and maybe I’m feeling bold, maybe I’m feeling safe because of his promise and the sharks, maybe I’m feeling like someone else completely, like I’ve lost my mind—
Because I ask him, “Like what kind of things?”
He starts breathing faster to match my racing heart. “That night, I wanted to taste you. I wanted to feel how your lips and tongue would react if I pushed you. But now I want even more.”
“Tell me.” I close my eyes, dizzy, insane. “Tell me everything you want to do to me, Ford.”
“I want to kiss your neck and listen to you whisper my name. I’d do it slow, so slow, and pay very close attention to your body. How you breathe, how you react to each and every caress, how quickly your heart’s racing, the flush of your skin, the sweat onyour lips. I want to slowly lift off your top and expose more of you, and I want to press my mouth against every inch I find. I want to lose myself in you, let myself travel every inch from your chin to your hard nipples down to your belly button.”
“Ford,” I whisper and my hand slowly moves down between my legs, so, so slowly, because I don’t want him to know. “Keep talking.”
“Only if you promise to close your eyes and picture what I’m saying while that hand of yours slips down under your panties.”
I suck in a breath, mortified. “You noticed?”
“You’re not subtle. No, don’t stop, Katherine. Don’t you fucking stop right now. I swore I wouldn’t cross this invisible line, but that doesn’t mean I can’t keep talking to you. Now, close your eyes.”
I release a soft whimper and I obey, eyes squeezed shut, and as the room plunges to darkness, I can let myself relax a little bit. There’s only the sound of my breath, my racing heart, and his low words driving me absolutely insane. I’ve never,everdone something like this, but the tension between us is absolutely unbearable and I can’t control myself any longer. There’s no way I’m getting to sleep tonight without some form of release.
And if I let him do all the work, I’m going to go further than I want.
My fingers find my pussy. I’m wet, freaking soaked, and I begin to rub myself over my panties, so beautifully slow.
“I want to undress you, Katherine,” he says like he’s reciting a prayer. “I want to peel your shorts off, turn you around, and slide down your panties from behind. I want to see your pussydripping wet, feel it under my fingers, and taste it under my tongue. I want you to grip the sheets tightly as I worship you from the bottom to the top until I find your clit and suck it so gently you feel like you might scream. Does that feel good, Katherine? Touch yourself faster. Under your panties.”
“Fuck,” I say and arch my back as I obey. “How do you evenknow?”
“I just know.” I hear something and peek over at him and realize—
Oh, my fucking god.
He’s sitting up, staring at me, the sheets pulled off.
And he’s got nothing on.
Nothing at all.
Only a long, thick, hard cock. The biggest cock I’ve ever seen in my life. He’s gripping it with his right hand and his abs are ripped and his biceps are quivering and he meets my eye and slowly, so fucking slowly, he licks his right palm.
“Imagine me kissing you as I slide my fingers deep inside your pussy,” he says and uses his spit to stroke his cock up and down.
“Fuck,” I say and close my eyes again as both embarrassment and pleasure and impossible desire war inside of me. I can hear him pleasuring himself, the slick sound of his palm moving up and down his shaft, and the filthy sound sends jolts of pleasure deep through me as I imagine straddling him and riding him and making that sound with my body.
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“Imagine me fucking you with my fingers nice and deep, curling them back to find your lovely little G-spot. Does that feel good,Katherine? Fuck yourself for me, do it nice and slow. Oh, good girl, that’s fucking good, just like that.” His stroking slows and I want to scream as pleasure tears through me. “But don’t get yourself off yet, my darling Katherine, my sweet, sweet, perfect fucking girl. I need you to look me in the eye as I tease your tight pussy with my thick cock. God, you’re shaking, aren’t you? Shaking and moaning and whimpering my name. You’re afraid but you’re excited and you want me to fuck you, you want it so badly you could scream, but you’ve never felt a man between your legs before, have you?”
“No,” I gasp and arch my back, out of my mind with bliss. “God, no.”
“A virgin,” he growls and he’s stroking himself faster. “I knew you were a virgin. I’d be so gentle with you at first, lovely girl, I’d let you slide down my thick cock and take only as much as you can handle, but you’re dripping wet, aren’t you? Dripping down your palm, you filthy fucking girl, look at you, lying there touching yourself and moaning, you filthy, beautiful fucking girl. I want you to take me, every inch of me in your tight virgin cunt and moan my name as you start to ride, up and down, so fucking slow at first you think you might break, but faster and faster, gasping as I lick your nipples and spank your ass and pull your hair, faster and faster as I fill you and let your pussy drip down my shaft, your drenched, beautiful pussy.”
I touch myself faster, rubbing and grinding my hips, completely lost in the moment and so, so close to coming it’s like an explosion right on the tip of my tongue. I can see it all in my mind so clearly, his strong hands on my hips, his mouth on my neck, his cock buried between my legs, and I want him so badly it makes me want to break, and the only thing keeping me from crawling over there and sucking his cock and letting him fuck meright now are those goddamn fucking sharks and, god, it feels so good.
His stroking gets faster, matching my pace. That slick sound is so fucking filthy it makes me moan his name.
“Keep going,” I say and groan as he grunts this sinful pleasure sound. “I’m so close, Ford, please, god, get me off.”
“Picture me taking your body, Katherine. Picture me sliding deeper and deeper, pinning your hands above your head and feasting on you as I fuck you rough, fuck you like the dirty, filthy girl you know you are. You’ve been waiting for this your whole life, haven’t you? Waiting to give in to all your disgusting, dirty, dark desires, waiting for a man that can fuck you and take you and make you scream. Touch yourself faster, Katherine, you look so pretty with your fingers buried in your pussy, you need to keep going, you dirty fucking girl, I’m so goddamn hard right now and it feels so fucking good stroking myself and watching you touch your pussy like that. God, you dirty girl, I want you, I want to ruin you, I want to fuck you and come deep between your legs and on your breasts and in your mouth, I want to come and make you scream and, fuck, I need you to come for me.”
My back arches as the pleasure hits its peak, and I’m rubbing faster and faster and he’s stroking himself just as fast, and the noise we’re making is so wrong and filthy and beautiful, and finally I can’t take it anymore, I come in a wild, dizzying explosion, “Ford, fuck, Ford, I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming.” And the world disappears and nothing else matters as I finish and finish and finish and moan.
Except Ford stiffens by my side and says my name like heaven and that only makes my orgasm double and triple and quadruple until I’m gasping for breath.
We finish together and I’m tangled in the sheets. Ford’s beside me, breathing hard until he reaches for some tissues to clean up. I blink rapidly and reach out for them—
But he snatches my wrist.
“Ford,” I say, alarmed.
“You crossed the line,” he says.
And leans forward.
And takes my fingers in his mouth.
I stare as desire floods me like a dam breaking. I didn’t think I could feel this much need so quickly after coming, but oh my god. Ford takes my fingers in his mouth one by one and licks them clean, sucks every drop of my pussy from them, and when he’s done, he wipes them dry with the tissues.
I fall back to my pillow and blink at the ceiling as he gets himself settled again.
My head’s spinning. My pulse is hammering.
“You taste good,” he murmurs quietly in the dark. “Good girl.”
“Oh my god,” I say and roll over, caught between intense need for him and an overwhelming shame. I can’t believe I just did that and, yeah, it was hot, it wasso fucking hot, but I’ve never done anything remotely like it before in my life. I don’t know how I feel about it considering this strange situation we’re in and my intense vulnerability—
But he followed my rules.
He didn’t cross the line. Even when my hips were gyrating and he was stroking himself, and it would’ve been so easy to come over here and fuck me.
Instead, he respected me.
A strange warmth floods through my body and I relax enough to close my eyes again.
“Go to sleep, Kat,” he whispers as I feel the heaviness start to take me. “Go to sleep and dream about what I’ll do to you when you finally get rid of all these sharks.”
I smile to myself—and do just that.
Chapter 14
Ford
“I’m going on a business trip,” I tell her the next morning.
She can barely look at me. We’re both thinking about what happened the night before—the filthy way I talked to her, the sounds she made, her orgasm. I can’t get her moans out of my head. I was up at five and already exercised, mostly to work off all this fucking energy, by the time she crawled out of bed. That was the most erotic experience of my life, and I’ve done some nasty shit to plenty of women in my day, but nothing felt the way it did with Kat—the anticipation, the excitement, how beautiful she looked with her eyes closed and her arms pressing her breasts together as she worked her pussy in the darkness of our bedroom.
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It was too fucking much and I don’t think I can behave myself if I stick around.
Now I’m making her coffee and scrambling her a couple eggs, and she’s acting like I’m invisible or something, all because she got off to the sound of my voice.
We’re both obsessing and it’s not fucking healthy.
“A business trip? Already?” She can’t even hide her disappointment. I bet she wants me to stay here and talk dirty to her each and every night, always safely on the other side of that invisible line.
But I don’t want safe.
I want to tear her clothes off, even right now, and feast on her beautiful skin.
“Only for a day or two,” I tell her. “I’ll be back soon. In the meantime, I’ll leave my black card behind and you can go nuts on this place. Have your friends over too and show them around.”
“Yeah, sure, I can decorate and throw a kegger.”
“Just don’t get in trouble.” I slide the plate of eggs and the mug of coffee in front of her, and she flinches slightly when my hand grazes across her upper arm.
“Right, sure, I won’t,” she says and the awkward tension feels like it might explode until I finally pull myself away, take a shower, throw some things in a bag, and get the fuck out of there.
If I stay for a single second longer, I’m going to do something I won’t be able to take back.
I’m not the type to let shit fester. Ignoring an awkward subject drives me fucking crazy—I’d rather put it all out in the open and talk about things like grown-ass adults.
Except in this situation.
If I talk to her about what happened the night before, I’m going to want to do it again. And again. And again. And then I won’t besatisfied with words anymore. I’ll need her lips wrapped around the tip of my cock sucking me nice and hard.
But I need to stop before I fuck up and hurt her more than necessary.
Because that’s what’s going to happen in the end: I’mgoingto hurt her.
I’ve thought about it a million different times and looked at it from every angle, and I don’t know how I could possibly give Grandpop something to hurt her family without hurtingher. It just doesn’t work out, and unless I’m ready to give up the one thing I’ve always wanted my whole life, I need to start being realistic with myself.
There’s no business trip. Nothing pressing, at least. My family has contacts in Chicago and I figure it’s a good opportunity to go visit my old friend Evander, another member of the Atlas Organization, a student club we founded and ran together back in our college days alongside our other best friends.
This trip is my way of cooling off. This trip is a kindness—to both of us.
On the flight over, at the airport when I land, in the cab ride to the beautiful hotel I’m staying in, every second of every hour, I’m thinking about her. I’m thinking about that night.
I was ready to let myself get ripped to pieces by sharks if it meant having a taste of her.
And the only thing that held me back was the look in her eye when she asked me not to hurt her.
It still fucking kills me. She was so sincere, so afraid, and I couldn’t even give her the one thing she really wanted. I thoughtabout lying, thought about saying everything I knew she wanted to hear, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Instead, I promised to protect her.
But who’s going to protect her from me?
That’s why I didn’t cross the line and that’s why I got the fuck out of there.
I want her so badly it’s like an ache in my bones.
But sleeping with her is a step too far.
She’s a virgin. A fuckingvirgin. I haven’t been a virgin since my grandpop bought a high-class escort when I turned sixteen and told me toget it out of the way.
No wonder I’m so screwed up.
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If I fuck her and take her virginity and then destroy her and her family, I’ll be the lowest of the low.
But if I stay in that apartment with her for one more second, I won’t be able to control myself.
Which is why I’m here on an impromptu trip.
I unpack in the hotel room, get dressed, and head to an upscale bar a few blocks away. The main room is filled with the murmur of conversation, with the clink of glasses and soft laughter, and I spot Evander as he stands and turns toward me.
The big Greek bastard’s grinning from ear to ear. I haven’t seen him in a while and he stalks across the room completely heedless of the eyes that follow him. It’s hard not to stare; Evander is big, burly, and muscular, like a fucking bear. He’s my age—only thirty years old—but he looks like he’s ageless.
“There you are, you rich motherfucker,” Evander says and gives me a massive hug and laughs loudly as he does it. He knows I hate it when he greets me like this, but that’s part of his charm. Evander does what he wants when he wants to do it and doesn’t give a damn what anyone thinks, not even his best friends.
“Okay, Vander, easy,” I say and pat him on the back. “How are you holding up? You look good.”
“I look fucking splendid and I feel even better. Come on, Ford, sit with me and have a drink.”
I follow him back to his spot at the end of the bar and order a whiskey. Evander’s drinking a Manhattan and grinning at me over the glass.
He says, “Carmine told me you two are getting into business together. Everything’s above board, I hope?”
“As above board as he and I possibly can be, but you know how the families are.” He roars a laugh and throws his drink back before demanding another. I do know what he means—Evander’s the son of a Greek mafia don, the most powerful man in all the Midwest, while Carmine runs a Famiglia out of Philly. Together, they have enough money, influence, contacts, and muscle to go to war with a small country. “But fuck business,” he says. “You didn’t come to Chicago to talkbusiness.”
“I guess you heard.”
He smirks at me and tilts his head. “A woman, Ford? A real, live, breathing woman?”
“What did you think I’d marry, a fuck doll?”
“Yes, exactly, a pleasure robot, something you can control with a wave of your hand. That’s how you are, isn’t it?”
“Sounds sick. I prefer my women warm and breathing.”
“Ah, please, you’d get off on the idea of a warm sexy robot that does whatever you want it to do no matter how depraved.” He chuckles softly and wiggles his drink side to side. “Tell me about the real girl then.”
I reluctantly give him the rundown. There’s no reason to hide anything from Evander—he’s proven himself capable of keeping a secret a dozen times over. “Now we’re living together and things are going—” I shrug and drink.
“Things are going not so good, I take it, or else you wouldn’t have come running out here to see me.”
“It’s not like that.”
“It’sexactlylike that. Don’t give me that look, Ford, you’ve always been full of shit. What’s wrong? And don’t give me some story. I can see through you.”
“I always forget that you’re not a moron,” I say sullenly.
“I only look stupid. Start talking.”
I crack my neck and sigh. “It’s really not complicated. I just don’t want to hurt her.”
“That’s a good start. The foundation of a solid relationship.”
“But I’m going to.” I glance at him and hesitate. Evander has no skin in this game and he has no reason to get involved. If anyone’s safe to tell, it’s him. “Grandpop offered me a deal. I can run the family when he retires if I use Kat to get dirt on the Stockton family.”
“Ah, shit,” Evander says quietly and nods to himself. “I can see how that might be an issue.”
“The girl’s in our apartment right now wearing my ring and sleeping in my bed and sooner or later, I’m going to break her.”
“Are you sure that’s what you have to do?”
“I want to be the head of my family.”
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“That’s not what I asked you.” He leans closer. “Do you think you can go through with it? Are there any alternatives?”
I consider that and slug down half my drink. I know the answer, but I don’t want to say the words out loud because I’m afraid of what they might mean. But Evander’s looking at me and I feel a strange sudden rush of dizziness run down my spine. Since when was I so weak? Since when was I so fuckingpathetic? I’ve never cared about another human being in my life—why is Kat any different?
“Yes, I can go through with it,” I say and stare down at my glass like I want to break it. “There’s no other way.”
“Then hurt her. Fuck the girl. But don’t be a goddamn bastard about it.” He jabs one big, meaty finger into my ribs. “Make it quick and make it count.”
“That’s the plan at least.”
“Here’s to owning your family. Here’s to achieving your lifelong dream. I know how much this means to you.” He raises his glass and takes a long drink.
I finish mine off, and the alcohol burns a bitter trail into my guts and stays there like I swallowed molten lead.
We catch up some more over several drinks and I walk back to the hotel a couple of hours later. It’s always good to see Evander—even if he’s loud and crude and rough, he’s still loyal and kindbeneath that shabby and violent exterior, and he’s one of my best friends. I miss my brothers from the Atlas Organization and as I ride the elevator up to my room, I make a silent promise that I’ll put in an effort to visit them all more often.
Except for Lanzo. That chaos creep is somewhere in Eastern Europe right now hacking into Russian server farms, or at least he was the last I heard, and I’m not about to travel to a war zone just to say hello.
I undress and shower and think about having another drink at the hotel bar to help me pass out but my phone starts ringing. I get out, towel off, and my stomach leaps—for one hopeful second, I think it might be Kat calling to talk.
Instead, it’s Grandpop, calling at just after ten at night.
I answer right away. “Hello, Grandpop. You’re up late.”
“I barely sleep these days.” Grandpop’s laughter sounds like chewed-up leather. “I heard that you took a trip to Chicago today.”
How the fuck does everyone know my every move?
“That’s right. I have some business out here, and I wanted to meet with Evander.”
“How is that Greek boy doing? His family is well?”
“Good as they can be.” I pace along the suite and glance at the clock. Right now I bet Kat’s brushing her teeth and doing her skincare routine and getting ready to slip under the covers. I bet she’s thinking about me—wishing I were there.
I wish I was there too.
“Good, good, I’m glad you went to see your friend since there is nothing more pressing going on.”
I stop pacing and clear my throat. “Grandpop—”
“Let me ask you something, Ford. It’s a simple question and maybe you can give me a simple answer. Why are you in Chicago when your new fiancée is back at your apartment in Dallas?”
I tense and don’t answer. I let the seconds tick past and I can hear Grandpop breathing. He’s wheezing more these days and I wonder if he’s thinking about retirement because he’s beginning to realize he doesn’t have much time left. But no, that’s just me projecting.
“I told you, I have business here,” I finally answer after what feels like forever.
“Business.” He grunts with annoyance. “Your onlybusinessis back home with that girl. You do want to fulfill our agreement, don’t you?”
“Yes, Grandpop, but—”
“Go back to Dallas in the morning. Drive back to your apartment. Sit down and talk to your new fiancée. Do yourfuckingjob.”
I grind my jaw. “It’s not that simple.”
“It’sverysimple. Don’t you have a friend that can do some computer hacking? Get him to break into the girl’s phone. Steal her texts, her contacts, her emails,everythingrelated to the Stockton family and send it all to me. I want it soon.”
“I can’t just—” I stop myself before I dig a deeper hole. Grandpop’s right—I can’t hide away in Chicago forever. I leftDallas because I’m afraid to go too far and do something I’ll regret, but maybe this is worse.
Evander’s right too. If I’m going to hurt Kat, I need to hurt her. I shouldn’t drag this out any longer than I need to and make things even more complicated.
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Grandpop says, “Go home, Ford. Since when did you wrestle with morality? Boy, if you’re going to run the Arc family, you’re going to need to toughen yourself up. Consider this a test of your abilities. Come through for me and youwillrun the family. Don’t let me down.”
Grandpop hangs up and I’m alone in the hotel room.
What the hell am I doing? When did I become this person? I throw my phone onto the bed and slam my fist down onto the nightstand. Why the fuck am I hesitating, even now, even knowing that I’m going to do this whether it feels good or not?
Kat is nothing to me. I have to keep repeating it, over and over, until it becomes true.
She’s just a girl. She’s nothing compared to getting what I want.
Coming home early,I text to her as I crawl into bed.Tomorrow morning.
Only one day? Couldn’t stay away, could you? It’s my wit and charm, she sends back.
I text,I was feeling hungry for a little shark soup, actually. I hear there’s an infestation in our bed.
What a shame, the sharks just turned into starving piranha. Feel free to go jump in and go swimming!
I smile to myself, but the smile slowly fades.
Don’t get attached. Don’t think she’s funny.
I toss my phone aside and roll over.
Chapter 15
Kat
It doesnotfeel good when your fiancé runs away on a “business trip” the morning after you two get intimate for the first time.
Well—wesort ofgot intimate. It was as intimate as I’ve ever been, anyway, and I woke up feeling vulnerable and scared and weirdly excited, and all those feelings were thrown head first into a concrete wall when he went running off to Chicago.
So I did what any self-respecting girl would do.
I went to the nearest high-end furniture boutique and spenta lotof his money.
Now granted, he basically told me to do that, and it’s not like I bought stuff I hated just because it was expensive—I have to live with my choices after all—but I might’ve opted for the pricier version whenever I was trying to choose between two things.
And that’s how Ford comes home to an apartment filled with boxes, strewn with half-assembled chairs and tables, tchotchkes and decorations tossed all over the counters and stacked on top of shelves, and the place basically looking like a total disaster,with me standing in the middle of it, drinking my morning coffee and trying to decide what the hell to do.
He pauses in the foyer and stares around. I glance over my shoulder and try not to smile at the look on his face. It’s pure astonishment.
“You got all this… in one day?”
“Paid extra for delivery.”
“You could’ve paid for assembly too.”
I tilt my head and give him my best confused grin. “But I have a husband for that, silly.”
He laughs softly and shakes his head. “We’re not married yet.” And disappears upstairs to the bedroom to shower and unpack.
Yeah, okay, that’s true and somewhat fair, but he’s still building all this crap. I watch him go and try to read his mood but it’s impossible. I even tried to be a little bit flirty via text the night before but didn’t get much in return, but maybe I’m not very good at flirting, and maybe he just doesn’t care about me beyond what I can do for his career or whatever. I wish he’d tell me what the hell he’s thinking, but Ford’s going to withhold that forever and I’m going to be left second-guessing and reading between the lines and that doesn’t feel great.
“I’m heading to work,” I call out as I finish my coffee. “I really hope everything’s assembled when I get home later today!”
“Don’t bet on it,” he says back and comes halfway down the steps. He’s shirtless and the sight of his chest makes my heart skip a beat. “Unless you want to bribe me for my time.”
“Bribe you… how?”
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“One picture.” His smirk is devilish and I feel my pulse hammering. “You know the kind of picture I want.”
“You seriously run away to Chicago the night after we—” I can’t say what we did out loud and I stumble on past it feeling flushed and silly. “—And you have the nerve to ask for—that?”
“It’s my one requirement. And I didn’t run away, I had business.”
“Yeah, sure you did. Well, I am absolutelynotsending you a sexy photo.”
“Then I am absolutelynotputting together all this crap.” He disappears back into the room.
“You’re a pig, you know that?”
“And I want to see you in the bathroom of your work, blushing and feeling filthy, with your shirt pulled up over those lovely tits. Don’t half-ass it either, Katherine.”
I bite my lip and turn on my heel, both furious and turned on. What is with this guy? He disappears for a day after that night and seems like he’s trying to avoid me, but the second he sees me again he’s asking for dirty pictures like a horny teenage boy as if that’s totally sane and rational.
He’s just pushing my buttons. He knows I’ve never done anything like sending nudes before, or at least he’s guessing, and he doesn’t think I’ll do it now. It’s his way of pissing me off and making me all flustered, and damn it, he’s doing a really good job, because I’m all twisted up and sweaty and that’s all thanks to his very simple and very psychotic request.
And yet as I ride in the back seat of an Uber to work, I keep thinking about him alone in the apartment waiting near hisphone. Maybe every time it buzzes, he thinks it’s a message from me and feels a little disappointed when it’s not.
I wonder what he would do if I actually went through with it.
Maybe stroke himself like he did that night.
My head’s in another world at Shady Farms. If Melody notices, she doesn’t say anything. I don’t make any huge mistakes though and finish the morning chores and by the time lunch rolls around, I’m starting to feel like I might be able to forget about Ford for a little while.
Tina drives out, which is sweet of her, and Melody joins us when she’s finished with a new horse that just arrived that morning. “I swear this one wants to kill me,” she says and sits down across from us at the picnic bench. We’re eating outside in the shade since it’s a decent day for once and not impossibly hot.
“You’ll be fine, you’re like the horse whisperer,” Tina says between bites of a big Greek salad. “And anyway, nobody cares about the animals, we need to talk about Kat’s little life change.”
“Wow, okay,” Melody says with a laugh. “I mean, I agree, but that was harsh.”
Tina leans toward me. “I want details. I didn’t drive all the way out here on my lunch break for nothing.”
I look at my hands and sigh. “There’s not a lot to say. We got an apartment—”
“A gorgeous penthouse apartment with two freaking floors,” Melody interrupts. “Don’t downplay it.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with the place, although I did buy a ton of furniture yesterday.”
“Furniture,” Tina says with a sigh. “How domestic. How boring. You’re furnishing your apartment together.”
“Nottogether,” I say and look away from them toward the paddock. “Just me. He gave me his credit card though.”
“That makes more sense,” Tina says.
“That’s not a shock though,” Melody says and gestures with her fork. “I mean, he’s a guy, right? What’s he care what the place looks like? If it were up to him, I bet everything would be gray and black and metal and, like, raw stone and leather, and there’d be pictures of very sweaty, very erotic sports stars on the walls.”
“You have a very particular idea of what men are like,” Tina says deadpan, and I laugh at them.
“He went on a business day trip yesterday,” I say. “We had this deep conversation the night before—” I don’t go into the details since they don’t need to know the actual content of what we said and my heartrate picks up just thinking about it. “—and he dipped out the next morning.”
Tina and Melody exchange a look. “That’s weird, right?” Tina asks. “What was the conversation about?”
“Uh,” I say and squirm a bit.
“Oh, god,” Melody says. “It was about sex, wasn’t it?”
“No, it’s not—”
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“Yep, totally about sex,” Tina confirms. “Did you guys do it yet? Go down to bangtown?”
“Don’t be gross,” Melody says and elbows her. “But seriously, did you guys have sex?”
“No,” I say which is the truth, we definitely didn’t have sex. But we sort of had… weird in-person phone sex, although I’m not about to tell them that. “We talked about it though.”
“And do you want to?” Tina asks seriously. “I mean, I know you’ve never… done it before. And this thing with him is just, like… for show. But if you’re going to have kids…” She trails off and frowns at me.
“If we’re going to have kids like he wants then, yeah, we’ll have to do it eventually, right?” I take a deep breath and look at them. “Okay, it’s not like he’s gross and it’s not like I’m blind. The man’s really hot, right? But I’m afraid we’re going to, you know, do it once and then he’s going to be sick of me already, and who the hell wants to be married to a man that doesn’t want to, like, sleep with them all the time and—” I stop rambling because my heart’s racing and they’re staring at me like I’m crazy.
“Honey, you gotta talk to him about all this,” Melody says and reaches out to take my hand. “What you’re doing isso, sofar out of my depth that I can’t even begin to offer advice.”
“She’s right. You two just need to talk.” Tina shrugs and crosses her legs. “And you might as well bang one out.”
“Tina!” Melody says, outraged.
“What? She said it herself, she thinks the guy’s really hot. She might as well fuck him. They’re engaged!”
“She’s having a hard time with this,” Melody says through her teeth. “Have some compassion.”
“This is compassionate, sweetie. Kat, I love you, but you’re engaged to an eleven-out-of-ten, just about the hottest sort of guy you can possibly ever be with. You’d be freakinginsanenotto have sex with him. Who cares if you two aren’t madly in love?Lookat him! Let that man go to town on you!”
“You’re awful,” Melody says with a sigh.
But Tina’s right.
I’m not about to say that out loud—there’s no way I’m going to put up with Tina feeling smug—but she’s right.
I’m going to marry Ford. I know it’s weird he ran off the day after we had our little intimate moment, but we’re doing this for real. I’m going to be his wife and we’re going to have children, which means we’re going to have to have sex sooner or later, and yeah, I find him really attractive, and—
God, she’s right.
I might as well sleep with him and find out if we’re compatible now, and if we’re not, maybe we can work on it. But if I wait too long and things get too weird between us then maybe I won’t ever be able to make it work.
Ah, crap.
We finish up lunch without them dragging me through the mud for too much longer, although they do pepper me with logistical questions, half of which I can’t really answer. Tina heads back into the city, Melody goes out to the paddock (“Seriously I’m going to die today,” she says dramatically as she trudges off.), and I find myself alone in the employee bathroom staring in the mirror, fixing my hair, my heart racing and my core clenching with excitement.
The lighting in here sucks. I look tired and sweaty. I amnotwearing a cute bra.
Whatever.
I’m doing this.
I pull my shirt up and press my tits together and hold my camera up—and take a picture.
It’s awful. I delete it and do it again, and again, and again, until finally I get one where I don’t look demented.
I open my text conversation with Ford and attach the picture. My heart’s going wild in my chest and I don’t know what the hell I’m thinking. This ismadness, pure and utter insanity. Ford’s still more or less a stranger! And I’m about to send him a sexy picture.
The girls are right though. I’m engaged to this man and I need to start taking that seriously. Grandfather wants me to get dirt on him and ruin his life, but I can’t bring myself to actually follow through with that. Anyway, I can’t think about Grandfather while looking at a picture of me squeezing my tits together and pouting into a dirty horse farm mirror.
God, this is stupid.
This is mortifying.
I hit send.
The pictures whooshes through time and space and I immediately want to delete it. Oh my god, this is a mistake, what if he thinks I’m hideous and doesn’t like me or what if he’s embarrassed for me—I mean, I’m this stupid virgin girl sending bra pics on command and that has to be just the most pathetic thing imaginable, right? He’s going to take one look at that picture and want to leave me right away and then where will I be? How will I help Mom? I’ll have to beg Grandfather to take usback, and he’ll make me marry someone absolutely loathsome, some dork that won’t ever ask for nudes because he’s too afraid or something, and all because I’m such an embarrassing, pathetic, ugly loser—
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Three dots appear. He’s typing a reply and I think I might be sick.
I’m going to pick you up from work today, he says.
I stare at those words.
He’s going to… pick me up… from work.
In response to a picture of my tits.
The picture he requested.
What the hell is that supposed to mean? I just did the most embarrassing and risky thing I’ve ever done and he responds like there’s no picture of me shoving my tits at him? I don’t even know how to respond. I’m flabbergasted. I’m utterly in shock.
I type,All that stuff better be built.I send it over, turn off my phone, and shove it in my pocket.
I stare into the mirror at myself.
Ford Arc is such a piece of garbage.
I went out on a limb there and tried to do something sexy, even though I’m so incredibly self-conscious that I’m trembling right now, and I’ve never done something like that before, and he replies with something about giving me a ride home like we’re talking logistics.
Seriously, what the hell is with this man?
Rage wells up and rushes through me. That asshole knows what he’s doing. He’s fucking with me because he can. He has way more experience in relationships than I do and he knows that when a girl sends him a picture of her boobs, the response she wants isn’t something about driving her home after work. The response she wants is glowing praise and maybe a couple comments about how hard his dick is, but mostly glowing-fucking-praise.
Ford can go to hell.
I turn around and storm out of the bathroom and throw myself into work and think about all the ways I’m going to murder him when I see him later.
Chapter 16
Kat
Ford pulls up in a big limo at exactly five thirty, and I’m waiting out front for him with a thousand thoughts swirling through my head.
I want to stab him in the throat.
No, I want to stab him in the gutsthenin the throat.
No, I want to chop off his dick—well, maybe not his dick—okay, I want to hurt him, and I want to make him suffer, and I’m sopissed. Maybe he’s used to girls with more confidence and experience than me, but I’ve never put myself out there like that before and I feel like he asked me to do a trust fall then watched as I dropped to the ground. Now he’s here to laugh at me for being so pathetic.
I yank the door open and get in. The lights are dim and the windows are tinted nearly black. The heavy-duty privacy screen is up and I can’t see or hear the driver.
Ford’s sitting on the center bench in a white shirt and black slacks, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his tattooed forearms pulsing with muscles, his top button undone to show off a hintof his chest, and shit, he’s gorgeous and looking at me like he wants to rip me to pieces. I refuse to let the sight of that freaking gorgeous man stop me from unleashing the tirade I’ve built up all day. I slam the door behind me and sit on the bench across from him and glare with all my might.
He says nothing. I say nothing. The limo pulls out and drives slowly away from the farm.
The tension is killing me. He’s just staring like he can’t help himself. The bastard should have an apology on his tongue right now. Instead, it’s all silence and a brooding stare. His eyes drift to my mouth, my throat, down to my breasts—
That does it. I finally explode. “You are such a piece of shit, you know that?”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse me?”
“I sent you the most vulnerable and embarrassing picture of my entire life and you respond with something aboutpicking me up from worklike we were having a normal conversation.”
“Kat—”
“No, Ford, listen to me,” I say and I can’t let him steamroll me or interrupt me right now. I never, ever stand up for myself, but I can’t let this man walk all over me and set myself up for a miserable life of doing whatever this asshole says. “Maybe you don’t get it but I haven’t been in a ton of relationships, and you can’t just demand that I send you naked sexy pictures and then not respond when I actually work up the courage to freaking do it. Do you have any idea how humiliated I felt all day? I was just thinking about it and obsessing and, god, I’m so mad at you for being such a thoughtless asshole and—”
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“Kat,” he says firmly and moves forward off his seat and onto his knees in front of me. I stare at him, blinking rapidly, not sure what the hell is going on right now. “I’ve been looking at that picture all fucking day. I’ve been stroking my hard cock thinking about licking the space between your breasts down to your belly button and in between your legs until you scream my fucking name.” He comes closer and puts his hands on my knees andshovesmy legs open. “I told you I’d be picking you up from work because I couldn’t wait until you got home to do this.”
Well, holy crap, I didnotexpect that.
“You couldn’t wait to do what?” I ask, dizzy and breathless.
He slams his mouth against mine and kisses me hard.
I melt into that kiss. All my anger’s blown away into oblivion by that one simple gesture. I moan into his mouth and all the embarrassment and uncertainty explodes into a heavy, intense sudden desire that overwhelms me as his hands pull up my top the way it was in the picture I sent. His mouth works along mine, nibbling my lips, tongue invading past my teeth, his hands on my breasts and in my hair and, fuck, it feels so incredible to have him take me like this, like he can’t get enough of me, like he reallyhasbeen thinking about me all day.
“Ford,” I whimper as he kisses my neck and down to my breasts as promised. He licks me and sucks and kisses down, down, along my stomach, my belly button—
“Here we are,” he growls as he unbuttons my jeans. “These come off.”
“Ford,” I moan as I lift my ass and let him peel my bottoms off. I’m in a pair of black panties and I’m a little sweaty from workingoutside and there’s no way I’m sexy right now, but the look in his eyes his pure fucking lust.
“God, you smell good,” he growls and bites my hip bone as he kisses my inner thigh.
“I smell like—oh,fuck—like a goddamn farm.”
“You smell likeyou.” He shoves my panties aside and the look on his face is pure bliss. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I couldn’t wait.”
“Ford—”
He licks me bottom to top, parting my lips with his tongue to find my clit and rolls around it in delicious circles, and I am absolutelyfucking done. I grab his hair and push him tighter as he licks me, sucking me and lapping me up, using my clit and driving me absolutely wild. He drops lower, slides his tongue inside of me and groans, and that noise is the most sensual thing I’ve heard. I think of him in bed with me stroking his cock, that delicious slick sound as his palm works his shaft, except now the sound is his tongue on my pussy, and the bliss that rips down my spine is nothing I’ve ever felt before.
“Delicious,” he moans as he slides two fingers deep inside of me. “Now taste yourself.” He kisses me and I lick his lips, lapping up my juices, moaning as he fucks me deep with his hand. His palm and thumb grind against my clit and his fingers move in faster and faster, soaking wet and incredible, and I grinding my hips against his as I moan into his mouth. He kisses my neck, my breasts, and drops down between my legs again. His fingers keep moving, in and out as he licks my clit faster and faster. “I want to taste you come.”
“This isn’t—fuck—what I expected—oh my god.” My back arches and my head feels like it might explode. “Shouldn’t we be quiet? Can’t your driver hear?”
“My driver is being paid three times his normal salary right now to circle the block until I’m finished with you. My driver will happily let me come down your throat a dozen times if that’s what I want.” He stares at me like that’sexactlywhat he’s about to do, and the idea of letting him use me that way as his fingers keep sliding in and out— “Fortunately, the divider is soundproof and this car has very good shocks.”
Fuck, the bliss hits me hard and I grab his hair. “Please,” I moan. “Keep going.” I whimper as he licks and sucks and fucks me, the sounds are delicious, the feelings are incredible, and I’m peaking, I’m peaking, my muscles tense and my toes curl, and I come, I come so hard it’s like I’m breaking. He keeps on going, lapping me up and sucking me and fucking me with those incredible hands, and I’m in messy heaven as I finish and he takes me through it until I’m all done.
I collapse back, panting hard and sweating. He licks me like he wants to get every drop and finally comes up to push his fingers in between my lips. I moan, whimper, suck them clean, and look into his eyes.
“Good girl,” he whispers. “That’s why I couldn’t wait.”
“Fuck, Ford. You could’ve just… said I looked good. That’s all I wanted.”
“Andthisis whatIwanted.” He leans back and stares at me. I’m dripping wet and my head’s buzzing and my clothes are all askew. “You look beautiful, Katherine. You look absolutely stunning.”
“Stop,” I say, blushing, and adjust my panties and start pulling up my jeans.
But he stops me. He kisses me and leans back. “I want to look at you a second longer.”
“Why?” I don’t move though. His gaze is erotic and intoxicating.
“Because when I get home I’m going to stroke myself until I come thinking about exactly how you look right now.”
Without thinking, I grab my phone and toss it to him. He catches it, head cocked. “Take a picture and send it to yourself. Hurry up before I change my mind.” I’m blushing like mad and this is the sexiest thing I’ve ever done in my life.
He raises the camera slowly and taps the screen. “Perfect,” he whispers.
I get myself dressed. When I’m done, he hands me back the phone, and I check to make sure the photo went to him and only him. When he calls up to the driver to tell him to head back to the apartment, I quickly delete it, feeling vulnerable and crazy and stupid, but good.
Insanely good.
The chemistry between us in undeniable. I want him and he wants me, and I don’t know what’s holding me back. There are no sharks, no piranhas, only the ones I’ve invented to keep people at a distance because I’m so terrified everyone in my life is out to hurt me.
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That’s all I’ve ever known. Pain, and shame, and self-hatred.
Except with Ford.
“Are you going to run away this time?” I ask him when we ride the elevator up to the apartment.
“Not this time,” he says quietly.
We step out into the apartment—
All the furniture is built and the boxes are cleaned up.
“This must’ve taken all day,” I say as he walks past me.
“Worth it,” he says, without looking back.
Chapter 17
Ford
It’s early the next morning when I stand in the living room and look out at the city. The shower’s running and I listen to the dull noise of the water through the pipes and think about Kat’s body wet and glistening as she rubs her creamy skin down. I shiver and sip coffee and have to count to ten to keep myself from storming upstairs and kicking down that fucking door.
There will be time for that later. Fuck, I want to make sure I devoteplentyof time to Kat’s body, but right now I have business to attend to. I turn away and head to the door, but pause in the front hallway and stare down at the side table I put together and positioned just so the day before.
Sitting in the very middle is Kat’s phone.
With the screen off, it’s a simple thing. Reflective glass, a clear case with little balloons on the back. I reach out and pick it up, and Grandpop’s words echo back through my head. I could take it right now and ship it off to Lanzo—he’d be able to crack in and download all the data within minutes, no problems, no questions asked—and that might be all the information I need. Kat might be a little suspicious or worried, but I’ll buy heranother phone and get her all set up and she’ll never realize what happened.
I could do this. We could hurt her family and she might not even know it was me that betrayed them. I could have everything I want—Kat as my wife and control of my family—and avoid the ugly fallout.
But Iwouldbe betraying her. Grandpop would know, Lanzo would know, and worst of all, I would know.
I told Kat I’d protect her. I swore that I would, even if I said I couldn’t necessarily keep her safe from myself, and doesn’t that include my own family? Doesn’t that include Grandpop?
I put the phone back down and step away from it. Sweat beads on my back and under my arms. I want to do this—I want to destroy her—I want to ruin them all and ascend to the top of my family and take my rightful place—but the look in her eyes when she asked me not to hurt her echoes through my mind.
She doesn’t deserve it.
I pull away, ride the elevator downstairs, and think about her phone on the drive out to the Arc family mansion.
Two weeks ago, I would’ve taken the fucking thing, no hesitation. She meant nothing to me when this all started, but that changed and I can’t tell when it happened. At some point, she shifted from unfortunate collateral damage in my lifelong struggle to win my family’s top prize to someone important to me, something precious that I don’t want to break.
I’ve always been a winner. I’ve always been ruthless. But if I looked at myself in the mirror right now, I wouldn’t recognize the man staring back out at me.
When did I get so fuckingsoft?
The car parks out front and I head inside. Grandpop’s expecting a full report on what I’ve done so far and I’m dreading the look on his face. I’m dreading the feeling of failure that’s sitting my gut and the knowledge that I’m going to let my one chance at finally taking control of my family slip between my fingers.
All for a girl.
For fuckingKatherine Stockton.
Grandpop’s sitting at his desk when I enter. He looks up and nods as I take a seat across from him and lean back in the chair. “You look rested,” he says and laughs when I grunt in response. “How’s the engaged life treating you?”
“I’m not cut out for this sort of work,” I grumble.
“Ah, Ford, my boy, it’s almost done. You’ve been living with the girl for how long now? Three days? You shouldn’t need too much more time to grab her phone and steal her secrets.”
“I haven’t had a chance,” I say and can’t meet his eye. “But I’m working on it.”
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“Good, good, keep working.” He seems distracted and jittery. I look up and frown slightly, not sure what’s going on. I expected him to chew me out for not having something to report but he seems like he barely cares about my mission right now.
“You got something else on your mind, Grandpop?”
He grins at me and sits up straight. “Actually, my boy, I do have something on my mind. Did you hear about your cousin, Riley? His wife’s pregnant. Finally, my first great-grandchild is on the way. Can you imagine that? A great-grandchild?”
“No, I can’t imagine it,” I say slowly, scowling. Riley’s married to some narrow-waisted, waspy girl named Janice Smullen, the sort of girl that went to Vassar College as a legacy and comes from a family with money older than the trees the paper was made from. He’s twenty-five, five years younger than me, and already giving Grandpop hope that the Arc name will continue on into perpetuity.
Which is fucking bad for me.
“It’s wonderful news, just wonderful.” Grandpop says and turns his back to me to stare out the window that overlooks the mansion’s grounds. “You know how much this family means to me, Ford. We were on the brink of extinction when I took over and began our restaurant empire, and look at us now. We’re dirty capitalists, we’re sullying our good family name by scrounging around in the filth with all those otherworkers, at least according to our lovely blueblood society brethren like those Stockton bastards, but we’re thriving. A great-grandchild, Ford. Another baby.”
“It’s wonderful.” I feel fucking sick. Riley’s one of my more conniving cousins and the little shit knows what he’s doing. I never thought he’d be in the running to usurp me but now I can see how I might’ve underestimated him. Riley’s married to a nice girl from a good family and they have a baby on the way, which means their line will continue on past them, and what do I have?
A fake fiancée from a family we hate and no plans to reproduce anytime soon.
If Grandpop is looking for a reason to get rid of me, this is the perfect opportunity.
Something in me shifts and crackles. Years and years of competition and viciousness come alive, and I’m thinking about all the ways I can hurt Riley, the different methods I can use to embarrass him, the different lies I can tell to undermine him, but none them are as important as getting that one key bit of information that’ll kill the Stocktons the most.
That’s what Grandpop wants. Fuck Riley. Fuck his shitty little kid and his boring wife.
I need to destroy Kat.
“I should go find Riley and congratulate him,” I say and slowly stand up. “Is he here today?”
“Out back, I believe. Smoking cigars with Albert.”
“Good. Perfect. I’ll go have a word.” I turn to the door, but Grandpop stops me.
“Make sure you follow through with our little deal,” he says slowly and deliberately, and I feel my stomach suddenly do flips as a tingle runs down my spine. “Riley’s got a baby coming, after all, and we don’t have much time left.”
I nod once and hurry into the hall where I pause and take a few deep breaths.
This was all a fucking game.
Grandpop told me about Riley as a warning. He wasn’t overcome by excitement—he was playing another goddamn role just like he did when Kat visited. That was his way of letting me know that I’m replaceable and he does have decent options if he decides to pass me over. I may be the most capable and the strongest of the cousins, but I’m not in an invincible position.
He’ll tear me down if he wants.
I stroll toward the back of the house and step out onto the patio. I spot Riley and Albert sitting down by the pool in white slacks, button-down shirts, smoking cigars and laughing over something. I pause in the shade of the house and watch them for a long moment, and all I want to do is go down there, grab Riley’s face, and shove it under water until he drowns. I’d gladly hold him down until his weak little body stops kicking and fighting, and I’d do the same to Albert if that stupid fuck didn’t run the fuck away.
Instead, my phone buzzes. I take it from my pocket and it’s a text from Kat.Don’t laugh. Actually, don’t even reply, okay?
Followed by another picture.
It’s her wearing only a bra, her hair still drying from the shower, head tilted and pouting into the mirror, a little smile on her lips. My heart instantly leaps into my throat and my head starts to pound as I stare at it, my cock responding like she’s standing right in front of me and begging me to fuck her.
When I first met Kat, she never,everwould’ve done something like this without me asking, but now she’s beginning to warm up and loosen herself, and it’s driving me fucking wild with desire. Her vulnerability, her innocence, and fucking hell, her body and her lips and everything about her makes me want to turn my back on my life and give in to what I really want.
This house, this mansion, it never makes me feel the way Kat does.
It never makes me feel like I could give up and still be happy.
Kat makes me think there’s something more to life than getting power and controlling my family, like maybe there could be real happiness.
I look back up at Riley and Albert, and I see them differently—two young guys genuinely celebrating a good thing. Maybe Riley had the kid as some sort of play at taking control of the family, or maybe Riley got his wife pregnant because he truly wants a child.
I don’t fucking know, because I barely fucking know him.
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My own cousin, more or less a stranger and an enemy.
That’s what the Arc family does to its people.
Grandpop pits us against each other and always has from the moment I was born.
Things with Kat are different. They’re simple. When I’m with her, it’s like—I can be myself. I can let down my guard and let her get to know me without worrying if there are ulterior motives behind everything she’s saying.
When did I get so soft? But I’m not sure this is softness.
It’s a kind of strength to find something I really want and take it even if that means giving up on my own life.
But am I ready to do that? Am I ready to choose Kat when I don’t even know if what we have is real? She’s going to marry me because I swore I’d take care of her and her mother.
Can I do that if Grandpop excommunicates me from the family?
It’s absurd to throw away what I’ve built here on a whim. Kat might be warming up to me but we’ll never have something real—it’ll always be founded on lies.
And in the end, I can’t take that risk.
Chapter 18
Kat
Another picture and another no-reply although this time I told him not to say anything. It’s almost a relief not to hear anything this time, and I like the idea of him looking at me somewhere out there in the world and I don’t even know he’s doing it.
Ford’s gone all day and I spend the afternoon enjoying some more shopping. The place is coming together but there’s still a lot of work to do. I have the big ideas blocked in, but I need a bunch of little details to pull it all together. I’m picturing a modern mid-century vibe, lots of neo-futuristic stuff, but softer and warmer, more candles and plants and cozy cushions and blankets and pillows. A little feminine, a little masculine.
Even though he told me not to think about what he might like, I can’t help myself. If we’re going to live together, I want him to be happy in this place too and so every decision I make has him in the back of my mind judging and questioning and wondering if I couldn’t do a little bit better.
Which isn’t fair since he’s done nothing but be supportive, or at least he made it clear that he doesn’t have strong preferences.
The day passes and I come home with a decent haul. He’s still not back so I order takeout, pick a movie at random from Netflix, and spend the evening comparing color swatches with the paintings I’ve chosen to hang on the walls. I’m starting to get a little antsy and lonely.
But the elevator finally dings only when I’m just about ready for bed.
Ford comes in and says nothing to me. I’m not even sure he notices that I exist. He heads right upstairs, goes into our bedroom, and gets into the shower. I hesitate and feel a sudden surge of anger—
I’m trying so hard.
This apartment, the pictures, the flirting, everything, I’m trying so hard to make this work. I could spy on him and steal from him and do all the things my grandfather wouldloveme to do, but instead I’m here with Ford in good faith. The only reason I still have a job at Shady Farms and my mom’s rehab checks are still clearing is because Grandfather thinks I might change my mind about the spying thing, even though I never will. Sooner or later, my life’s going to crumble completely, and I’m trying to make the best of it while Ford stomps around looking goddamn grumpy all the time.
It pisses me off. I hate being vulnerable like this—showing him pieces of me I’ve never shown anyone before—and I don’t know how much longer I can handle him disappearing for hours at a time only to show back up and ignore me.
I know we’re not really engaged—we’re not really together—this is all a business deal.
But it’d be nice to get ahelloafter I sent him a picture of me in nothing but a towel earlier today.
I head upstairs and get ready for bed in the extra bathroom. When I’m done, I sneak into our bedroom and slip under the covers. Ford comes out of the shower still damp, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs and stands in front of his dresser. I stare at his cut body still slightly wet, at the tattoos in his skin, at the strange scars on his back—long, skinny lines, almost surgical in their precision—and feel my hips wriggling slightly at the idea of that man, that monster, thatbeastin this bed with me. The man that spread my legs and licked me, kissed me, made me clean myself from his fingertips. Ford stands there for a long time staring in at his undershirts and his lightweight sleep pants without saying anything, his eyes blank and unfocused, the water drying on his skin, and slowly my attraction to him turns to confusion.
“Ford?” I say, and he flinches and looks over.
“Sorry,” he mutters, pulls out clothes, and gets dressed.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” When his clothes are on, he flips off the light and gets into bed. “I’m fine. Go to sleep.”
Silence falls over us. I can feel him brooding like his bad mood is a wave washing down over me, and I wonder how the hell I’m supposed to sleep with a pissed-off bear curled up a few inches away.
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“You can talk to me, you know,” I say softly and he only grunts in reply. “I know we’re not really together, but if we’re going to do this, we might as well try to share our lives with each other. And anyway, I’m a good listener.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
He takes a deep breath and lets it out. “My cousin Riley’s wife is pregnant.”
“Oh,” I say and frown at him. He’s right, I don’t understand. “Uh, that’s a bad thing, right?”
“Right.”
“Can I ask why?”
He looks over and his eyes are intense as he stares back at me. Instead of directly answering my question, he says, “All day I’ve been thinking about coming home to you. Ever since you sent me that picture, I’ve been obsessing about stepping in through that elevator door and finding you still in that towel. I pictured myself tearing it off your body a dozen times at least. Do you have any idea how goddamndistractedI’ve been? Even though Riley’s a top contender to take my position as heir, especially now with thatfuckingbaby, I still couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“Ford,” I whisper.
He shifts slightly and rolls onto his side, staring at me across the line of hungry sharks or piranhas or whatever metaphor we’re using.
“It’s not supposed to be this way.” His jaw works and I can almost see the struggle playing out in his mind. It’s the same struggle playing out in mine. The worry, the confusion. The obsession. “You’re supposed to be a means to an end. We’re supposed to work together and nothing more. And yet every day I’m around you, it gets harder and harder and morecomplicated, and I find myself wanting to be home all the fucking time because of you.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” I say.
He nods once. “It’s a bad thing. If I had my way, I’d do nothing but stay in this room with you, right here in this bed, going over every inch of your body. I’d kiss your legs, your inner thighs, I’d taste your skin up to your—”
“Ford,” I say quickly. “You’re doing it again, aren’t you?”
“No,” he says and his voice is a husky mess. “I’m not doing that again.” He moves closer. Dangerously close. He’s right on top of the line and I’m trembling with fear and anticipation. One more inch and he’ll shatter any illusion of safety, and I don’t know what’ll happen to me then, but there’s a voice in my head that wants it to happen.
Transgress. Break free. Take me how I’ve always needed.
But I’m terrified it’s all for nothing.
“Then what are we doing?” I whisper, trying to keep the tremble from my voice. “When this started, I hated you. Don’t smile, it’s true, I really hated you because you’re everything I dislike about our stupid little social world. Rich and handsome and arrogant, and it’s like everything falls to your feet.”
“It doesn’t feel that way to me,” he says.
“But something changed. You changed. There’s something more going on and I don’t know what it is but I want you to open up to me, Ford. You said that I needed to be all-in, that you didn’t want a trophy wife, that you didn’t want something fake. You said we had to do this for real. Did you mean it?”
He’s quiet for a long time and I’m so afraid of what he’s going to say. Can I stay in this bed if he says no? Is it possible to die from embarrassment? A thousand thoughts swirl through my brain and my head won’t be quiet—
But he reaches out.
He crosses the line.
And touches my cheek gently.
“I mean it,” he says.
“Then fucking kiss me,” I whisper, and he comes closer, sharks and piranhas be damned, and his lips find mine in the dark and that whimper escapes my throat. I don’t care about being embarrassed or afraid or self-conscious, I don’t care about being nervous or anything like that, I only care about Ford in this bed with me right now.
It’s now or never, and it’s Ford or nobody. We’re skating along on the edge between all-in or nothing at all, and I want to tip one way or maybe I want to tip the other, I don’t know what I want but all I know is I need Ford’s mouth, his tongue and lips and his deep masculine groans, and I need him now, right here, his body on mine making me feel something I’ve only ever dreamed about.
I’m more than ready as he undresses me. He takes off my clothes with a ruthless efficiency, like he can’t wait, leaving only my panties. His eyes widen at the sight of my skin, at my breasts, my hips, and he kisses my nipples and sucks them as his hands move down to grip my ass. It’s embarrassing and so exciting letting him look at me like that. I gasp and push my hips against his hard cock and I start to gyrate up and down his shaft, grinding myself along him, feeling so filthy and giddyand beautiful, gliding up to my clit and back down. He growls his delight and buries his mouth on mine and I’m moaning into his tongue as his kiss deepens and deepens, and I feel myself dripping through my panties.
“I want you,” I whisper, trying to keep my breath under control as his fingers slide down between my legs and tease me. “I want you, Ford. I need you to fuck me.”
“I want you to say please.” He finally removes the last little thread of clothing and sinks his fingers deep inside. I curse and moan as my head tilts back. “I want you to beg, Katherine.”
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“Please fuck me,” I moan, and this teasing is driving me crazy. “I’m ready. I’m so fucking ready. Please,pleasefuck me.”
He groans and keeps sliding his fingers in and out and in and out, his palm pushing against my clit, and when I feel like I might explode from the pressure, he finally pulls back and buries his mouth between my legs. He’s lapping me up, drinking me down, praising me as he does it. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Kat, so fucking perfect,” he whispers between licks. “I love your taste, your sounds, your smell, everything about you, you have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting this.” He lavishes attention and desire on me, licking, sucking, teasing, and I don’t know how much longer I can take it. I’ve never been treated like this before, like I’m desirable, like I’m worth a damn, and his praise has a magnetic quality. This is bliss and it’s torture, and all I want is him between my legs and I want himnow.
I pull his hair and guide him up until I feel his massive, thick tip against my wet entrance as his mouth presses to mine. He teases me there and I wiggle my ass, pulling back to stare into his eyes. “Go ahead,” I moan. “Ford, fuck me. I’m yours, just fuck me, fuck me, take me, please—”
He slides himself between my legs and my back arches as he fills me.
My brain goes fuzzy like a broken TV screen. The world stops spinning. The room suspends itself and there’s nothing but the pain between my legs as his massive cock threatens to rip me in half. He keeps going, deeper and deeper, and the pain continues as he slides back out and in again, kissing my neck, whispering delicious words I can only half hear the whole time, and slowly the world begins to restart as the deep ache shifts to an even deeper pleasure.
“That’s a good girl,” he whispers and bites my lower lip. “Oh, Kat, that’s such a good girl, take every inch of me like you were born to slide your wet little cunt along my thick cock. Go ahead and moan for me, baby girl, go ahead and tell me how much you want it, that’s right, oh, you’re such a good girl.” He licks my nipples and bites them and starts moving faster.
I wrap my arms around his neck and work my hips and feel sweat bead down my back.
The pain and the pleasure are impossible to untangle. It feels so much better than I ever dared imagine it would and yet it’s also like his massive size is going to break me in half. I love it, and I want him to keep going, deeper and faster and rougher, I want him to crack me in half and let me ooze out along his cock.
We grind like that. His cock in me, my hips riding, my clit pressing against him with each new thrust. I’m panting and totally out of my mind and he keeps on whispering, over and over, calling me his good girl and fucking me and I’m practically drooling with bliss.
“You’re an eager girl, taking me nice and deep like this, Katherine. Look at you, legs spread, moving your hips like you can’t help yourself, moaning deep and taking my thick cock. What a good girl, an eager, dirty little girl. I love the way you feel, Katherine, the way you grip me, I need to fill you to the brim and I want you to say my name as I do it.”
“Ford,” I moan and we start moving faster together. His forehead presses to mine and I’m locked into the feeling. “Ford, Ford, Ford, like that, just like that, don’t stop.” We’re grinding, fucking, everything so wet and lovely, and I feel it right there growing and growing, glowing despite the pain, the pleasure building and building. I’ve let go of my fear, let go of my self-doubt, and there’s only Ford guiding me through this and bringing me closer and closer and closer until he bites my shoulder and kisses my collarbone, and I arch my back and say his name and come, come, come, in a wild cascade of lovely intensity over and over, and Ford, the bastard, the lovely perfect bastard, he doesn’t stop, he keeps the pace I set exactly the way I want him to until finally I collapse back, a quivering and mindless mess.
He slides himself out of me. “Good girl,” he says and kisses me, touching me, hands caressing my skin. Everything is electric and sensitive and I giggle despite myself, grinning like a moron, flushed and sweating from the effort. “You’re such a good girl.”
“We should’ve done that sooner,” I say and nuzzle him.
“You’re in luck,” he whispers and kisses me. “Because I’m not finished yet.”
My eyes go wide and I realize he’s right—his cock is still very hard.
I don’t think. I move down to his shaft and stroke him slowly as he lies on his back. There’s no blood—I’ve been riding horses my whole life—but I taste my pussy as I take him into my mouth. I suck him nice and slow and want to give him the gift he just gave me as I go faster, and faster, and he’s whispering how much he loves it the whole time, his groans low and guttural and masculine. “That’s right, suck yourself off my cock, lovely girl, god, you feel so fucking good. Wait—wait—” He pulls me up and makes me straddle him.
“Ford!” But it’s too late—my hips move and he slips inside of me again.
I’m shocked at how good it feels. I’m mesmerized by how wet I am. “Ride,” he commands.
And I do. I ride him faster and faster, even though I’m aching and sore like crazy, I take him deeper and deeper until I feel him twitching inside of me and he’s groaning my name—“Katherine, fuck, Katherine”—and that sends me flying over the edge. Another orgasm rips through my body as he comes, filling me up to the brim, and I swear it lasts forever or maybe it lasts only seconds, I can’t really tell and I don’t really care, because I collapse down into his arms, completely spent.
“No more,” I groan and grind myself against his hips. “Oh my god, I’m so sore.”
He laughs softly. “I guess I can let you be done for the night.”
“For the night? You mean for theweek.”
“If you can stay on your side of the bed for a week, I’ll leave you alone.”
“Arrogant prick.”
He kisses me and I snuggle closer. And something clicks inside my brain.
I kind of like being with Ford.
Which is probably a ridiculous thing to think after giving him my virginity, but it’s true.
I never thought I’d actually enjoy his company. I never imagined I’d have fun bantering with him, teasing him, making jokes and laughing with him.
But here I am lying in his arms, and I don’t want to go anywhere else.
I want to be withhim.
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And that scares me more than anything else.
Chapter 19
Kat
“What are we celebrating, exactly?” I ask Ford as we sit in the back of the limo on the way to dinner.
“Our first week together.” He grins and puts a hand on my inner thigh. “And you finally becoming a woman.”
I shove his hand away and roll my eyes. “I’ve been a woman for a lot longer than you’ve been a man, asshole.”
“Whatever you say. Did I tell you how nice you look tonight yet?”
“Three times, but I can always hear it a fourth.”
“You look perfect.” He leans over and kisses my cheek. “Are you sure you’re ready to be out in public together?”
I shrug and give him a brave smile, but he’s got a point. We’re not exactlyfamousor anything like that, but our families are known in this town and he’s taking me to one of the most exclusive restaurants in all of Texas. Chances are decent someone from the social circles we run in will recognize us and the rumors will spread like wildfire.
Unless they’re already spreading. Which, knowing Sara Lynn, they probably are. Fortunately, I’ve been smart enough to stay the heck away from social media and I don’t know what people are saying about us, and I really don’t want to find out.
“I’m ready if you are,” I say and he only gestures for me to follow like it’s no big thing.
We get a table in a private corner of the dining room. I don’t see anyone I know as we’re seated and Ford orders wine. We clink our glasses together and he watches me with a seductive little smile, and I blush thinking about the last few nights.
I’m sore in the best possible way.
We last minutes—seconds, really—each night after we’re in bed and the lights are out before I find Ford crossing the invisible line. And I find myself welcoming him with eager lips, with eager legs and an eager tongue. Because Ford’s shown me more about sex than I ever dreamed I’d learn in a life time.
And he’s a very patient, very kind teacher.
But not exactly gentle.
The anticipation is overwhelming. I get through the day at work thinking about him the whole time, completely aware that he’s not going to keep his hands off me for very long. He’s always coming in late, and always looking at me like he wants to destroy me, and that’s exactly what he does—slowly, painfully, explosively. I’ve been touched and licked and fucked in ways I never even thought about. Now I feel more tired than I’ve ever been in my whole life and, it’s the exhaustion of someone very satisfied with some very hard work.
“Can I admit something to you?” he asks and doesn’t wait for me to answer. “I thought living with a woman would be a pain in the ass.”
“This is the part where you say it’s not and you actually love having me around all the time.”
His lips quirk. I love the scar on the one edge of his mouth though he never talks about it. Actually, there are a lot of scars he never mentions and even though I trace them with my finger as he pounds deep inside of me, we don’t talk about them, and I don’t feel like I’ve earned the right to ask what they are yet.
“You smell like horses. You know that, right?”
I glare at him. “I work on a farm, asshole. You know, doing hard work?”
“Cute, a Stockton talking about hard work. Doesn’t your family spend most of its time lounging by the pool or playing golf?”
I grind my jaw. “Yes, but I’m not like my family.”
His expression softens. “I know that, and that’s why I like you.”
“You like me now? I thought I smelled like a barn.”
“You do, and you leave your hair all over the drain, and you don’t pick up after yourself, and—”
“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” I say, glaring hard.
He laughs and reaches out suddenly and catches my hand. “But I love the way you laugh. I love the way you dance a little while you’re making coffee.”
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“I do?” I blink at him and hadn’t even noticed myself doing it.
“You wiggle your hips and whistle in the shower too. It’s fucking mesmerizing. I like the way you curl up on the couch at night, and the way you make faces at yourself in the mirror, and the way your toes curl while my fingers—”
“Donotmake this dirty, you wereso closeto being sweet.”
He laughs and squeezes my fingers. “I’m just saying that I’ve enjoyed having you around lately.”
I blush deeply and cover my sudden embarrassment by taking a drink. I didn’t know Ford could be so sentimental or kind but apparently, he contains multitudes. “You just like the sex,” I mutter.
“Ilovethe sex. I could fuck you all day long if you decided to quit your job.”
“One of us has to work.”
“We’re rich. I don’t think that’s true.”
“I’m not going to quit my job just so I could stay home and be your—” I hesitate, not even sure how to put it into words. “Your little sex toy.”
He perks up. “Oh, but I’d love that. I could come home to find you in all new outfits every day, waiting for me in different places throughout the house, ready to drop to your knees and take me deep into your throat and—”
“Ford,” I whisper sharply. “There are people nearby!”
“And I hope they’re listening.” He’s grinning, almost laughing, and I have to take another long drink of wine. “Anyway, it isn’t just the sex, but I won’t pretend like the sex doesn’t help.”
“The sex definitely helps,” I admit and tap my finger against the glass. “Have you spoken to your grandfather lately? Is there anything new happening there?”
“I don’t think so,” he admits. “My plan to win him over isn’t exactly going great, but that doesn’t mean it won’t work in the long run.”
“I’m just starting to worry that this whole thing is one-sided. So far, Grandfather hasn’t cut me off and he’s still paying Mom’s bills, but sooner or later—”
“If that happens, I’ll take care of everything.”
“You won’t be able to get me my job at Shady Farms back though.”
“No,” he agrees and glances away. “I can find you a different job.”
“I’m not working in one of your restaurants.”
“A different job working with horses.” He turns back, his face serious. “Grandpop’s going to be difficult to convince, and I’m still working on him, but we have time. We don’t have to rush anything. We can just—”
“We can just figure it out,” I say and let out a long breath. “Yeah, that’s okay, I guess.”
“You really must love the sex,” he says, grinning, and I kick him under the table.
The food comes and we fall into a comfortable banter. We stick to cleaner and safer topics as we eat, but it’s like Ford can’t help himself and he somehow managed to steer everything back to sex. I guess I know what he’s got on his mind. Not that I’m anydifferent—I keep picturing all the different ways he can make me come with nothing but his tongue—and I feel like I’m dizzy and crazy with lust, like I’m drunk on it. The wine’s loosening me up and Ford’s smirks are driving me wild and I have to admit that I’m having a really nice time.
With Ford. With the guy I hated when this all started. With the guy I reluctantly called, and barely agreed to work with, and now we’re here and we’re doing… this. Talking like normal people. Laughing together.
Thinking about fucking when we get home.
And god, I want to get homeso badly.
I laugh at something and turn halfway around in my chair to look for the waitress so I can ask for more wine and as my eyes scan the dining room, I suddenly freeze like someone’s holding a gun to my head.
Two people are being seated not far away.
Two people I know very well.
Sara Lynn and her husband, Kirk Wateridge, a stocky guy with graying hair and glasses.
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She doesn’t see me at first. I turn around and my heart’s racing and I think I might be sick. “My cousin is here,” I hiss at Ford and he looks over my shoulder. “Don’t stare!”
“Too late for that,” he murmurs. “She spotted me.” He grins tightly and waves. “Hello, Sara Lynn, you selfish asshole. Ah, fuck, she’s coming over.”
“Oh, shit, shit, shit, fuck—” I turn around and Sara Lynn’s hovering behind me with a plastic smile glued to her face. “Hi, Sara Lynn, how are you, what are you doing here? It’s so nice—”
“Kat, can I have a word?” Her voice is high and shrill.
“Uh,” I say.
“Don’t stick around on my account,” Ford says with amusement in his voice. “Sara Lynn, it’s always such apleasureto see you. Truly, you are such a shining light.”
“Oh, go fuck yourself, Ford. Come on, Kat.” She storms off toward the bathrooms.
“You really do need to antagonize her, don’t you?”
He shrugs and raises a glass to me as I hurry after my cousin.
I should just leave. Sara Lynn doesn’t have any power over me anymore. I haven’t officially cut ties with the family but I have thrown in with Ford which means I don’t need to be afraid of Sara Lynn bullying me, I don’t need to worry she’s going to poison me to Grandfather even more, I don’t need to be afraid of her anymore.
I don’t need to follow her like a puppy dog.
And yet that’s exactly what I’m doing because I’ve been doing it my whole life. It’s conditioned into me at this point and even if I wanted to walk away and act like none of this is happening, I can’t seem to do anything but trail after my cousin like I’m under a spell.
It’s always been this way. Sara Lynn’s in charge and I can’t do anything but follow after and hope she doesn’t punch me in the nose for fun.
“What the hell are you thinking, Kit-Kat?” She whirls on me back near the bathrooms in a quiet nook where they used to have a payphone. Now there’s just an empty little cubicle thing hanging on the wall.
“I don’t know… I don’t know what you mean?”
“You’re sitting at La Mode with freaking Ford Arc and eating dinner and drinking wine like it’s no big deal, but god, Kit-Kat, it’s so freaking pathetic, even for you.”
“I’m… just having dinner.”
“I’m just having dinner.” She says it mockingly, her face screwed up. “Listen to yourself Kit-Kat. You’re a Stockton and he’s an Arc, and you’re sitting in there making eyes at him like the most pathetic girl in the entire world and I can’t believe you take yourself seriously. Do you really think that man gives a crap about you?”
“No,” I say quietly, not able to look at her. “I don’t.”
“Good. At least you’re not totally stupid. God, Kit-Kat, I knew you were low but this is just astounding, even for you. Have some dignity, you pathetic mess, and pay your check and leave before you cause a scene.”
I open my mouth to say something—to apologize, to tell her I’ll go, to say whatever I need to say to make this end because I’m buzzing with embarrassment and rage and years and shame and self-loathing—but a person appears at the end of the hall and comes closer.
I look over and it’s Ford.
“Actually, Sara Lynn, you’re the one causing a scene.”
Sara Lynn looks like she wants to strangle him. “This is between me and my cousin,” she hisses.
Ford looms over her. “I know all about you, Sara Lynn. You sit there and pronounce judgment, but you’re no better than anyone else. You’re so self-conscious and desperate to be liked that you’ll shit all over your cousin here simply for having dinner with her fiancé. But what I think you hate the most is that you have no power over her anymore and you’re starting to see how empty your life has become now that you don’t have someone to lord all over. Are you going to cry, Sar? Are you going to prove how pathetic you are? Go ahead, I think we’d love it. No? How about you go back to your table and your weak little husband, and you’d better be thankful that I don’t break your skinny little neck right here for the fucking fun of it.”
Sara Lynn stands there in stunned silence. I don’t move, afraid that I’ll draw attention to myself. I feel thirteen all over again. I can smell the dirt under the bleachers, hear the roar of the crowd, see the dappled light against the ground. He stares Sara Lynn down and her face turns bright red. For one horrible second, I think she’s about to say something back to him.
Instead, she shakes her head. “I knew you were awful even back when we were kids, and you haven’t changed one bit.” And she pushes her way past him back toward the dining room.
I lean back against the wall, my heart racing, feeling dizzy. Ford comes closer but he doesn’t reach out to touch me. I look at him and feel a dozen emotions: shame, desire, relief, anger. His head tilts and his eyes narrow.
“Kit-Kat?” he asks. “She still calls you that?”
My jaw works. “I hate that nickname. I used to be heavy when I was little. It’s her way of reminding me that I’ll always be that stupid little girl.”
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He grunts and reaches out. I think he’s going to touch me, hug me, comfort me—
Instead, he grabs my wrist and yanks me behind him.
I yelp as he pulls me into one of the empty unisex bathrooms. He practically throws me against the sink and I stand there staring at him with total shock as he slams the door’s lock into place and turns on me. He’s seething mad, angrier than I’ve ever seen him, and he advances on me slowly.
“I heard most of that discussion,” he says quietly. “I came back here to make sure you weren’t starting a fight and instead, I hear you getting a tongue-lashing from that waste of oxygen you call your cousin.”
“What are you—”
He grabs my hair tight and pulls hard. I gasp in shock and there are tears in my eyes. He releases a soft growl from his throat as he leans forward in my face.
“You didn’t tell her to fuck off. You didn’t tell her to go jump off a highway overpass. You stood there and took her abuse like you always do.”
“Ford,” I whisper. “What the fuck do you want from me?”
“I want you to grow a fucking spine. You’re going to be my wife soon, Kat, and my wife is notweak.”
I whimper as he turns me around and bends me over the sink. I try to struggle, but he pins me there and I feel his body againstmy back, so big and strong and hard, and he rips my dress up over my ass.
“Ford!” I gasp and his right hand bends my wrist behind my back. A flash of the boy that hurt Sara Lynn at the football game all those years ago flits through my mind, and I wonder if I’ve somehow finally crossed that line and I’ll meet the real Ford Arc.
But his hand comes down hard on my ass and he spanks me.
“Don’t youeverlet her talk to you like that again.” He tightens his grip on my arm and I groan in pain. He spanks me again, hard and fast, and the pain is hot and intense, and a strange thrumming begins in my core.
“Ford,” I whimper. “What are you doing? Why are you doing this?”
“Because you need to learn how the fuck to stand up for yourself.” He spanks me again, harder, and I gasp. Half the restaurant has to hear this—he’s not holding back. I feel his stiff cock pressing against me and my head’s a wild, dizzy mess of emotions and desires all tangled up with pain and control and domination.
“It’s Sara Lynn,” I manage to say. “She’s just—she’s always been like that.”
“Even more reason.” He grabs the hem of my panties and rips them down. I moan and whimper.
“Ford, please.”
“No, Katherine. You’re not getting out of this.” He spanks me again but this time follows it up by stroking his fingers down my slick pussy. I’m soaking wet and moaning as his fingers part mylips and tease my clit, and pleasure bashes into pain and makes my brain go haywire.
He releases my wrist. I grab the edges of the sink as he grips my hair and pulls. I gasp and look into the mirror and Ford’s eyes are blazing with desire as he stares back at me and spanks me again, and again, and again. I’ll be red and bruised in the shape of his hand when this is over but his fingers give me pleasure too, they tease me and slide inside of me and roll around my clit, and each spank is followed by an equal amount of pleasure, until him alternating between spanking and teasing has me riding right along the edge of orgasm, and I can’t control it anymore.
“Ford, Ford, fuck, Ford,” I whimper and moan. “Please, more, more, more.”
“You greedy, filthy fucking girl,” he growls and fucks me with his fingers. There’s nothing gentle in him now—it’s all control and intense desire. “You let your family walk all over you but I willnotmarry a spineless woman. No, I’m going to spank you raw every time I see you fail to stand up for yourself and I’m going to fuck this cunt rough with my fingers whenever you keep your mouth shut when you should speak up, and I’m going to train you to give a shit about yourself the way you should.”
“Oh, fuck, Ford,” I gasp, back arching as he keeps going, faster and faster, gripping my hair tight until I can’t take it anymore and I come violently on his fingers, my whole body twitching and writhing against him as he controls me through it. I nearly black out as he finishes with me, and when I’m done, I fall down to my knees, panting in front of him.
He stands over me, a looming monstrosity, haloed by the overhead light. He tilts my chin up and looks into my eyes.
“Good girl,” he says and puts his fingers in my mouth. I suck them and feel a strange grateful need rush through me. “That’s my good girl. I know that was hard. I know it hurt. But it hurts me to watch you let someone talk like that to you.”
“I’ll do better,” I say with the taste of my pussy on my tongue.
“You will,” he agrees and helps me up. He pulls my panties back into place and adjusts my dress for me and I try to do my best to fix my hair but there’s not much I can do about that mess. “I’ll go out first. I have a feeling your cousin won’t be out there waiting.”
I nod slightly and he disappears back out the door, leaving me alone.
I stare into the mirror at myself.
Ford’s right, I should’ve said something to Sara Lynn. I should’ve told her to go to hell or punched her in the face or any of a thousand other responses instead of hanging my head and taking it—
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But for years and years that woman’s terrorized me and I turn into my teenage self every time she uses that stupid nickname like it has the power to hypnotize me and take away all the strength and self-worth I’ve worked so hard to build up over the years.
Maybe spanking me and getting me off in a bathroom isn’texactlythe best way to teach me self-worth—
But it definitely was unique, I’ll give him that.
Chapter 20
Ford
Another week passes. Time moves in fits and jumps. It stretches forever when we’re together and condenses during those ugly daytime hours when we’re apart. When Kat and I first started sleeping together, we’d wait until it got dark and we were both in bed before we would finally give in to our near-constant need. It became almost a ritual—pretend like things were normal, like we weren’t going to have filthy and sweaty sex for half the night, until the lights turn out and suddenly she’s gagging on my cock and I’m sucking her clit and making her scream my name.
But eventually I stopped playing the game.
It got to the point where I couldn’t wait anymore. I’d come home to find her in the kitchen and I’d have her there, sucking my cock, choking on it, bent over the counter and taking her from behind, or riding me in the living room nice and slow and edging her closer and closer until she explodes or finding her painting a guest room and holding her down on the floor and licking her pussy from behind before dominating her into orgasm.
The sun keeps rising. The world keeps spinning. Everyone outside our apartment acts as though nothing’s changed.
But I feel like the earth split open and swallowed me, and I’m still falling, falling, falling, and I doubt I’ll ever stop.
Days pass. Carmine invites me out one night and I figure I should show my face so they don’t think I’ve died. I meet him and his wife, Brice, at the Oak, and we sit at the bar with drinks at our elbows. They’re talking about baby names and cribs and diapers and shit like that while I sip my whiskey and think about Kat and the gorgeous way she swallowed my cum an hour ago—
“Ford, you look like you’re having just the best time possible,” Brice says, grinning at me. “Care to offer some thoughts on what color we should paint the nursery?”
“Gray,” I say.
Carmine laughs. “You love gray, don’t you?”
“Simple. Neutral. What’s not to love?”
“I was thinking more like a light blue,” Brice says gently and sighs. “All right, I get it, you don’t love the baby talk.”
“No, it’s fine, I get that you two are at that point in your lives. Don’t let me stand in the way.”
“Maybe we could, you know, talk about other stuff for once,” Carmine suggests and his eyebrows raise. “Like Ford’s fiancée?”
“Wonderful topic suggestion, Carmine,” Brice says with a happy nod. “How are things at home?”
I take a moment to consider that.
I can’t exactly tell them that I’ve been having some of the filthiest, most satisfying sex of my life for the past week—we’re close but I’m notthatclose with anyone. But it’s also a deeper question than I realized.
The sex is great. The sex is amazing.
But what about everything else?
“We’re decorating,” I say finally as the silence gets to the point of going on too long.
“Decorating,” Carmine echoes and gives Brice a look. “Do you hear what I hear?”
“I hear a man deeply in denial about his feelings,” Brice says with a nod.
“I am not—”
“Deeply,” Carmine agrees.
I wave a hand at my friends. “It’sbusiness. She needs me to take care of her mother when her shitty family inevitably kicks her out, that’s all.”
“But what are you getting out of this situation, Ford?” Carmine leans closer to me, head cocked to the side, not smiling now.
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I don’t return this gaze.
I told Evander the truth because Evander lives in Chicago and doesn’t touch my social world. He’s a neutral third party—and I knew he wouldn’t judge me.
Carmine’s different.
He’s a gangster like Evander with a very flexible idea of morality, but he’s been different ever since he met Brice. Family matters more to him now and I know it’ll piss him off if I tell him the truth, or maybe that’s just me projecting my own feelings, but either way I can’t bring myself to say it.
“I have my reasons,” I mumble, and both Brice and Carmine stare at me like I’ve gone insane. “Private fucking reasons.”
“Since when did you have privateanything?” Carmine asks, looking honestly stunned. “Ford Arc is… private? I’m talking to the guy that proudly brags about how many women he’s slept with, right?”
“Last I heard, he was well over—” Brice starts but I cut her off.
“Things are complicated, all right? Grandpop’s health isn’t perfect.”
They both go silent. They know what Grandpop means to me—he’s the head of my family, the man I look up to, practically my real father.
Even if Grandpop’s asking me to do something to Kat that doesn’t sit well, I still love him.
I still look up to him.
And the thought of losing him—
Well, I can’t go there right now.
I clear my throat and sit up straight.
“Kat and I are good, all right? Shit’s complicated but we’re figuring it out.”
“Here’s to shit being complicated then,” Carmine says as a toast.
I drink, feeling a sour pit in my belly. I hate this, hate hiding things from my friends, hate knowing what I’m going to be forced to do to Kat even though I’ve been actively avoiding it. Grandpop’s pressure campaign hasn’t eased up at all and if I don’t deliver something soon, he’s going to give up on me entirely.
And I don’t know where that’ll leave me.
“Well, hello there, Ford,” a voice says and I turn.
My cousin Riley’s standing with his wife, Janice, a willowy blonde woman that looks like she’s going to fall over any second. I turn to them and stand and shake Riley’s hand, and something feels wrong in my gut. It’s the way Riley’s looking at me with that smug grin—like he knows something.
“Riley, Janice,” I say. “Funny running into you two.”
“We’ve been coming to the Oak a lot more these last couple of weeks,” Riley says and beams at me. “I figured, with everything going on, I should start to put myself out there again, you know? Make society contacts and all that.”
“I’m not sure I follow,” I say very slowly.
Riley looks confused. “Well, with you and your new fiancée—”
“Katherine,” I say quickly.
“Right, Katherine.” Riley glances at Janice like he can’t think of what to say next.
“Your grandfather has been speaking with Riley ever since you decided to enter in your littleengagementto a Stockton girl,” Janice says, her chin tilted upward like she wants to use that pointy chin as a javelin. “He’s beengroomingRiley ever since.You know, for when he passes over control. Considering we now have a baby on the way—” She puts a hand on her belly and the smile on her face is the vilest thing I’ve seen in my life. It’s the most punchable grin I’ve ever seen on a pregnant woman.
I have to bite back a nasty retort and take a slow breath. They’re fucking with me—they have to be fucking with me—this is another way for Riley to try to make me screw up. If I cause a scene and shout my cousin down or threaten him in front of his pregnant wife, it’ll be a good excuse to make Grandpop turn against me.
But a kernel of something rings true.
Grandpop’s been talking to him about taking over my position for the last fewweeks. Ever since Istartedthings with Kat.
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Meaning Grandpop never really thought I’d pull this off.
Kat’s been a way for Grandpop to test me, and he’s been thinking about my failure from the very beginning.
And Riley’s his chosen successor.
Rage boils in my stomach. Rage beyond anything I’ve felt in a long time. I’ve worked my ass off, fought my cousins, done nothing but prove myself again and again to Grandpop. I earned my position through sweat and blood, and now Grandpop wants to give it away to Riley all because the dumb fuck got some upper-crust girl pregnant?
“Have a nice evening,” I mutter and push past him. They must be too surprised to say anything because nobody calls out or tries to stop me as I storm into the main lobby of the Oak. I pull out my cell and when I’m in a good, private spot near the central tree, I call Grandpop’s office.
He answers on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Grandpop,” I say and try to keep the anger from my tone, but I’m finding it impossible. “I ran into Riley at the Oak Club just now. He and his wife say hello.”
“You didn’t call me to pass on your cousin’s greetings,” Grandpop says, sounding amused. “What’s the matter, Ford?”
“He told me something. You’ve beengroominghim for the past few weeks. You’ve been nudging him toward the heir position.”
“Have I now?” He laughs softly. “News to me.”
“Don’t play games with me, Grandpop. You all but told me that’s what you were doing the other day when I visited. I know you love nothing more than to pit the boys against each other, but we’re not children anymore.”
“Yes, that’s true, you’renota child anymore, Ford. So why do you think you can speak to me in this way?” His voice is icy now, all the humor gone.
“I’m done with the games. I want your word. I’m the heir.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Iearnedthis and you know it.”
“And yet you’re still failing your last test. How long has it been, Bradford?” I grimace at my full name. Grandpop only ever uses it when he wants to hurt me. “You’ve had plenty of opportunity to get me what I want and yet you still haven’t. I don’t know if you enjoy playing house with that cheap Stockton girl, but I’m not foolish enough to bet on a single horse. If you fail, or perhaps I should saywhenyou fail, Riley will be my second choice.”
I grind my jaw and have to grip the tree to keep from screaming into the phone. I’m losing it, losing my cool, losing my control, and I don’t know what the fuck happened to me. I was never like this before Katherine, and yet now that she’s in my life, it’s like all the emotions I’ve been able to so easily tame all these years keep coming up and ripping me to shreds.
I have to get myself together.
“I’ll give you what you want,” I say and my tone is a barely restrained growl. “Stop the shit with Riley.”
“Actions, Ford. Not words. Actions. Good luck, but I won’t wait forever.” Grandpop hangs up.
My life feels like it’s a single stitch unwinding. I’m coming apart and being pulled in multiple directions, and I’m going to come loose if I can’t find a way to keep myself together. Hurt Kat and get my dream—spare Kat and keep her as my wife but lose my family. Can I live in a world where Riley’s in charge of the Arc empire? Where Riley’s running our restaurants?
The idea makes me sick to my stomach.
Chapter 21
Ford
I’m going to hurt Kat.
I can’t stop thinking about it at the bar with Carmine and Brice. We talk and laugh and joke but it’s like everything happens to me from a distance.
I’m going to hurt Kat.
The thought feels wrong. I keep saying it in my head, over and over, but it never quite makes sense and I can’t make the words sound like they mean anything. I’m going to hurt her. I’m going to hurt Kat because there are no other options now, it’s either do this terrible thing and achieve the one goal I’ve struggled toward my whole life or give up on my old dream for a girl I barely know.
There’s no real choice. After we finish our drinks, I leave the Oak Club and head straight to the Arc house. I text Kat on the way and let her know that I’ll be out late and she shouldn’t wait up.Having too much fun? You could be having fun here with me, she texts back and I have to shut off my phone.
I’m going to hurt her.
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I close my eyes and sit on the back seat of the car and let my mind wander. I think back to everything we’ve been through together. To the first time I saw her, to the first kiss in the cab, to those pictures, to the sex, to spanking her in La Mode. Everything feels like it’s building toward a climax, but there’s no happy ending here, no happily-ever-after, not for Kat.
She’s been shit on, beat down, embarrassed, bullied, and beaten since the day she was born and that isn’t going to change.
The car parks outside of the house and I get out.
I’m going to hurt her.
Not badly. Not at first. I don’t have enough to ruin her or her family yet—but I have a place to start, and I’m going to give it to Grandpop as a gesture of good faith.
Kat’s mother.
I head inside and walk slowly back toward Grandpop’s office. I check inside but he’s not there. The place is quiet and I guess most people are out. I move back toward the living room and figure I’ll pass the time there until Grandpop comes home, but when I open the door and step inside, I find a fire crackling in the hearth and the old man sitting alone in front of it with a drink in his hand and a far-off look in his eyes.
I stay in the doorway studying him for a moment. He doesn’t seem to realize I’m watching yet. Grandpop looks so fucking old and I don’t know when that happened. In my memory, he’s a tall man, healthy and hale, with a loud laugh and a keen smile and sharp knowing eyes. He’s enormous in my imagination, always a giant, always the one in charge, always teaching me and punishing me and hurting me and pushing me to be better. Hewas hard on me growing up, painfully hard on me at times, but I kept telling myself that Grandpop was doing it for a reason.
He was molding me into something better.
And in some ways, I think that’s right, he did mold me. He turned me into what I am not but I’m not sure that’s a good thing anymore.
He looks so small now. Thin, bent, wizened. He’s not the man that terrorized me when I was young anymore and I still feel that sharp pang every time he’s around.
I watch him and feel my stomach twist and take a deep breath.
I’m going to hurt her.
And I’m going to start with her mother.
Because while it won’t destroy the Stocktons, it will definitely embarrass them when news about Kat’s mother leaks. When the judgmental society types learn about Kat’s mother’s rehab and her jail time and all those ugly details, I can only imagine the whispers that will follow Kat and her family all over the place. If Grandpop’s smart about it, he might even be able to use his contacts to get the mother arrested again.
That leaves a bitter, ugly taste in my mouth.
But I have no other choice.
“Don’t just linger there, boy,” Grandpop says and I stiffen. He glances over with a deep frown. “You think I didn’t see you come in?”
“You seemed busy.”
“Busy. Not at all. Come, sit down with me, Ford.”
I hesitate, but this is what I wanted. I head inside and why do I feel like I’m marching to my own execution? I’m going to hurt Kat. I can do this.
“Where is everyone tonight?” I ask him as I sink into the armchair beside him.
“Who knows,” he says and his voice is thick with drink. He’s drunk, but not so drunk that he won’t remember this conversation. I’ve seen varying levels of Grandpop and drink, and this is one I know well—slurred, softened, blurred, but it’s a deceptive gentleness. This is his most dangerous state, the one that can turn violent very suddenly, and I learned to be very careful as a boy when Grandpop was drinking and sounded like this.
“They shouldn’t leave you alone.”
“They always do.” He grunts and takes another drink. “I spent all day today putting out fires. The restaurant industry is a nightmare, boy. You’ll be happy if Riley runs it.” His smile is ugly, and he glances over to see if his little comment landed the way he hoped.
I don’t take the bait. “You know, I’ve been thinking about that. What are you going to do once you’re officially retired? You’ve been working for the restaurants most of your life.”
“Ah, well, I don’t know. Perhaps I’ll dedicate more time to ruining that old Stockton fuck. Wouldn’t that be a nice retirement hobby? Evening scores and destroying enemies?”
I laugh but it sounds hollow even to me. “You don’t want to do something more worthwhile? Get into charity or something?”
“Charity?” He makes a face. “Fuck charity, Ford. You don’t understand what we’re doing here, do you? That’s why I’ve kept my options open.”
I sit up straighter and lean toward him. “Explain it to me then.”
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“We’re building generational wealth, boy.” He glares at me. “You’ve been fucking spoiled, but I remember what it was like for our family when we had nothing. I killed to get where I am today. I’ve been ruthless, boy. I’ve murdered and fought and bloodied myself again and again but here I am, old and still on top, and you know why? It’s because I’ve given up on weaknesses, like charity. Fuckingcharity. Whoever gavemea damn thing? Nobody, that’s who.”
“It doesn’t have to be charity, but wouldn’t you rather be productive?”
“To hell with being productive. I’ve been productive my whole life. Now it’s time to be petty.” He shakes his head and glances at me. “Why are you here, Ford? I told you everything you needed to know over the phone already. Are you here to whine?”
I open my mouth to say,I came to give you something on the Stockton family. I came here to hurt Kat.But instead, my jaw snaps shut and rage flows up from my center. “I’m not here to whine.”
“You say that just like your father.” He pushes himself from his chair with a grunt and walks over to the side table to get himself another drink. “Your father was a disappointment to me too.”
I go very still. Grandpop never talks about my father, or at least he hasn’t in a very long time. Their relationship was complicated and my father’s death was a real blow to him, but Grandpop never talks about it. I used to think it hurt Grandpop too much,but now I wonder if he doesn’t talk about my old man because he doesn’t give a damn that his own son is gone.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I say and can’t keep the coldness from my tone.
Grandpop doesn’t seem to notice. He holds up his drink and looks at me over the rim. “Here’s what you and your father both failed to understand. Strength is all that matters. Winning is the only thing people care about. You think the world gives a shit about who you are and what you want? The world only gives a shit if you’re winning. If you’re taking and destroying anything in your way. You can be the nicest person in the world and still nobody will care if you don’twin.”
“Is that what you do?” I ask, head tilted. “You win?”
“I gave you everything and don’t you forget it. What have you done for this family, Ford, except fail at the most important task I’ve ever given you.”
I could do it now. Stand up and tell him what I came here to tell him.
Except something stops me.
It’s this room. This empty, sad room. It’s Grandpop sitting in front of the fire staring into the flames. It’s Grandpop talking about winning, about strength, about spending his retirement years, his final years, on petty revenge. On a meaningless feud that doesn’t matter and never did.
This is my future.
I can see it so clearly it gives me a headache. I can see myself shedding any humanity I have left and turning into a man just like this. Rich, powerful, connected, deep in the next level of thegame, and utterly empty. His family hates him. His own children avoid him as much as they can. He spends his time terrorizing his grandchildren and treating the people closest to him like employees.
He caned me. He scarred me. He brutalized me and taught me to care only about myself, but only so long as I obeyed him.
He’s a small, petty tyrant, and he’s going to die alone.
I stand and face him.
“I don’t have anything for you, Grandpop. I think you should forget about your so-called revenge and try to enjoy the years you have left.”
“I’m sure you do. Pathetic.” He shakes his head. “What a sad disappointment you are, Ford. Although your cousin Riley will be ecstatic when I tell him that he’s now the top contender.”
“You can go ahead and do that. If Riley wants the job, it’s all his.” I take a step forward and stare into Grandpop’s eyes. “But I think Riley would be happier and better off if he stays far, far away from anything you built.”
“You’re singing a new song, Ford,” Grandpop says loudly as I turn and walk away. “But all I hear is the same old tune. It’s sad really, you had so much promise!”
I leave the living room. I walk slowly through the halls.
This place makes me feel nothing but miserable.
It’s empty. It’s all for show. There’s no substance anywhere, and if I finally stomp out what’s left of my soul to take it over, I’ll find nothing at the heart. I’ll stand on top but what’s the point of ruling over a graveyard? There are only bones in this house.
I see Grandpop clearly for the first time in my life and he’s a skeleton king.
It disgusts me how close I came.
Power without heart and purpose is meaningless.
I get into the car and head home. Kat’s in bed half-asleep already. I don’t wake her up. I crawl under the covers and lie close to her and listen to her breathe and breathe in her smell and think about what I’ve given up, what I’ve lost, and what I stand to gain.
Chapter 22
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Kat
In the morning, Ford seems different. Lighter almost. His smile comes easier and when he kisses me, there’s no hesitation. He’s not holding himself back anymore, he’s not keeping anything in reserve.
“What’d I do to deserve this?” I ask as he cooks me breakfast.
“Nothing, but you’ll earn it later.”
I laugh and eat and kiss him goodbye before I head out to work.
He’s in my texts all day. I feel light and happy as we chat back and forth, flirting like we’re teenagers and it feels good. Stupidly good. Even Melody notices the difference. “You’re smiling a lot today,” she says as she leans up against the barn door with her arms crossed. “Why are you smiling a lot?”
“I don’t know,” I say and try not to meet her gaze. “Things are just good.”
“At home, you mean? With Ford?”
“Maybe. I guess so, yeah.”
She’s silent for a few seconds. I look up and she’s studying me with a curious frown. She says, “I’ll be honest with you, Kat. When you told me about this whole Ford thing, I figured it’d be done in a few weeks, a month at most. I figured you’d both realize how insane you’re being and move on. But now I’m sort of worried.”
“Worried? Why?”
“You’re happy.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“But you barely know him.” She looks down at the ground and rubs the toe of her boot into the dirt. “Look, I want you to do what makes you feel good, you know? If Ford’s the right man then he’s the right man. I have no problem with Ford in particular. It’s just that, I’m worried you two accidentally fell into the honeymoon phase, but soon real life’s going to get in the way. What’ll happen then?”
“We’ll figure it out,” I say but something about what she’s saying nags at me. “We didn’t come into this thinking anything would happen between us.”
“But it is.” Not a question. Just a statement.
And I don’t deny it. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. I’m just trying to enjoy myself right now.”
She cracks a smile. “Good, I’m happy for you.”
“Liar, but that’s okay.”
She laughs and we get back to work. Even though what she said bothers me for the rest of the day, I still can’t stop myself from checking my phone every few minutes. Each new text from Fordsends a little jolt of excitement down into my core and I feel giddy with excitement at the thought of going home tonight to see him.
Melody’s right, this is stupid, and it might end in a terrible heartbreak, but I don’t care. This is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life and it’s all because of Ford. I’m not thinking about what my family wants from me and I’m not even worried about Grandfather inevitably taking away his support once he realizes I don’t plan on spying for him. I don’t even care what Sara Lynn thinks of me. I’m happy because I have Ford and for the first time in my life, I’m entirely focused on what I want and what I need.
There might be consequences. Heck, I can imagine a whole lot of them. This thing with Ford might blow up in my face and go down in flames, but I just don’t care. I’m doing what I want, what makes me feel good, and I’m not going to second-guess myself out of joy.
Work buzzes past. About an hour before my shift’s over, my phone starts to ring. I figure it’s Ford calling about plans for tonight, but I don’t recognize the number when I go to pick it up.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Ah, yes, hello, is this Katherine Stockton?”
I vaguely recognize the voice. It takes me a second to realize it’s the director of the rehabilitation clinic where my mom’s staying. Ice runs into my extremities and I’m guessing my time’s up, Grandfather’s finally pulling his support, and now it’ll all be on Ford. I knew this was coming and I steel myself for what’s about to happen.
“Yes, hello, Director Hawley.”
“Just call me Diane, please.” She clears her throat. “I’m going to be honest with you, Katherine. I don’t usually make this phone call but in your case, I thought it was important that someone heard it from me, because I’m not sure she’s going to reach out.”
My mouth opens and closes, and I’m confused. “Is there something wrong with Mom? Did her check not clear? If that’s the case, I can have more money sent over soon, just let me know—”
“No, it’s not a payment issue.” She clears her throat. “Your mother checked herself out two days ago.”
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I nearly drop the phone. I stand there stunned, and let that sink in. “I’m sorry… what? Two days ago?”
“Your mother’s an adult and she was here voluntarily. We aren’t obligated to make this phone call and there’s some legal precedent for respecting patient privacy, but—” She clears her throat again. It must be a nervous habit. “She left with another patient and I believe they’re using again. I’m sorry, Katherine, I really am. I tried to get her to stay, but she wouldn’t.”
“Mom’s… using again. Mom’s using already.”
“I don’t know for sure, but yes, I believe so. Have you heard from her at all? I don’t think you have, but—”
“No, nothing. I didn’t know she’d left.”
“That’s what I figured.” She lets out a breath. “I’m very sorry, Katherine. Sometimes people aren’t ready to get clean and move on. Your mother—”
“My mother is going to end up dead before she ends up sober. Thank you for the call, Ms. Howley.” I hang up before I say something more, before I rage and scream and shout at her forletting my mother run away. There’s nothing that woman can do now and she couldn’t exactly keep my mother prisoner, but how could she waittwo daysbefore calling?
I pace back and forth, feeling dizzy and overwhelmed. Melody comes over, looking concerned. “You okay? You look a little—”
“I need to go home,” I tell her. “My mom. I just... I’ve got to go home.”
“Sure, yeah, do whatever you need to do, I’ll cover for you. Is there anything I can do?”
“No, not right now. I just have to go.” I hurry inside to gather my stuff and text the car company on the way. My ride shows up ten minutes later and I’m a mess on the way back to the apartment. I’m going to the worst-case scenario, imagining Mom overdosed and dead on the side of the road, or sharing needles with these total strangers and getting sick, or doing dozens of other horrible and dangerous things in the name of getting her drugs. I want to scream and cry, and I feel so weak and powerless and all my good feelings are blown away like seeds in a tornado.
My mom checked herself out of rehab, I send to Ford.I need to find her.
He gets back right away.I’m not home, but I can meet you there soon.
Thank you.I hit send then call Grandfather. He needs to hear about this. Two days. Two whole days! Who knows what my mother’s been doing these last two days? While I’ve been busy having sex with Ford and trying to be happy for the first time, my mother’s spiraling into her addiction again. If I hadn’t been so preoccupied, if I spent more time calling her, if I visited her more—
Grandfather doesn’t answer. I curse and try again, and again, until finally the line clicks and his voice comes through. “Katherine, I am busy right now, please stop calling.”
“Wait,” I say quickly. “Mom’s gone.”
There’s a pause. The line’s still live. I hear him breathing. Then: “Gone where?”
“I don’t know.” I tell him everything Director Hawley said. “We need to find Mom and figure out if she’s safe.”
Grandfather sighs. “No, we don’t.”
“Please, I know it’s been hard, but—”
“I’m sorry, Katherine, I really am busy. Your mother is on her own.”
He hangs up.
I stare at my phone. He hung up on me. His daughter is missing, probably out getting high again, and he hung up on me. Never in all the years we’ve been dealing with Mom has he ever hung up on me like that.
The resignation in his voice was thick and said everything.
He’s finished with her. He’s probably finished with me, too.
I’m on my own.
The car parks outside of the apartment building and I head inside. Grandfather won’t help me, but Ford’s going to. I took this deal in case of this exact scenario, and now that it’s here, I feel like I’m on the verge of panic.
I have to remind myself that I have Ford. I have Ford. He’s going to help me. He’s going to find Mom and bring her home and get her help, and maybe he can’t cure her, maybe nobody can, but he’ll at least help.
I step off the elevator and head up toward our room. Something looks off—the living room looks like someone’s been pulling the cushions off and looking around behind them. Maybe Ford lost something in the couch? I’m too panicked and upset to think about it and go straight to the bedroom. As I reach the doorway, I pause when I hear the sound of a drawer opening and closing.
“Ford?” I ask and step inside.
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An older man looks up. He seems surprised to see me like he was caught doing something wrong. In my haste and confusion, I don’t recognize him at first. Adrenaline spikes and I look around for a weapon, for anything to fight off tis intruder—
“Katherine, dear, you’re home early.”
That voice. I take a step back and my hands come up to my racing heart. “Mr. Arc?” Ford’s grandfather.
He smiles awkwardly at me and spreads his hands. “That’s right, dear. Oh, this is very uncomfortable. I thought you were at work.”
“I was, but—did Ford send you?” I shake my head, trying to make sense of this. “Why were you going through my stuff?” He’s standing in front of my dresser with my underwear drawer open.
“Yes, that’s a good question. Ah, damn, I really thought you’d be at work for another hour at least.” He sighs, walks to the bed, and slowly sits down. “But I suppose you’re here and there’snothing we can do about that. Maybe now’s the perfect time to tell you the truth.”
“The truth? About what? I’m sorry, Mr. Arc, but I have a family emergency and—”
He smiles at me like he couldn’t give less of a shit about what I’m saying.
“The truth about why Ford wants to marry you, dear. I think you’ll want to listen.”
Chapter 23
Ford
Iditch a business meeting early to race home. I’m trying to close a new deal on some rental properties out in Florida but that shit can wait—Kat’s mother is in trouble and that means it’s time to step up. This is why we got together in the first place and I knew this might happen one day, only I hoped it wouldn’t be for a while.
Still, this is what it means to care about someone.
Which is a strange thought to have. Me, caring about someone enough to drop whatever I’m doing. It’s fucking madness.
Kat’s worries and problems are my worries and problems now, and while I can’t fix her mother’s addiction, I can at least be there for Kat and offer her every resource I can manage to scrounge up.
It’s ludicrous, this whole caring-about-someone thing.
And it’s my choice. It’s not an easy choice, but it’s the right one and I believe I’m going to be a better man for it even if it means I’m going to suffer in the short term. I care about Katherine, and if I lose my chance at taking control of my family then I’mhappy to get shoved off to the side. I don’t want to run a family of ungrateful cretins, much less a family of monsters that couldn’t care less about me. Grandpop won’t be around forever, and the rest of the family isn’t stupidly obsessed with the Stocktons, and one day this absurd feud will fade from memory.
Maybe then I can rejoin and retake what I’ve lost.
For now, I’ll suffer, because that’s what it takes to make good on my promise to Kat.
I’ll protect her, no matter what.
The elevator doors open. I step out and head into the living room. “Kat?” I call out but nobody answers. The couches look like someone’s been flipping the cushions over trying to find change underneath them and there’s a wallet sitting on the kitchen counter that I vaguely recognize. It’s old and leather, and I frown because it’s incredibly familiar but very out of place.
I walk over and gingerly pick it up as my stomach turns sour. No, this can’t be what I think it is, but it’s so damnfamiliar, I’ve seen it a thousand times since I was a little boy. It was shiny and new when Grandpop bought it, but now it’s worn in and faded and stained by time and use, and Grandpop’s face grins out at me from his driver’s license when I open it up.
What the hell is his wallet doing here?
There’s a noise from upstairs. A raised voice, only a murmur at this distance, but it sounds distressed. My pulse fires like a rocket. I drop the wallet and run to the stairs, my muscles tensing and preparing for action. Grandpop’s wallet is here, and Kat’s coming home soon, and her mother is missing—
I slow once I reach the top of the steps and head down the hall toward the open bedroom door. The voices are clear now and I think I might be sick. It’s Grandpop talking clearly and with audible glee. “… going to solve all your problems, but it’s the truth, Katherine. You’re nothing but a Stockton and you’ll always be a Stockton to him. Ford only agreed to this because I made him do it, and he’s only still here because he’s too weak to do what’s needed, but do you really think he would throw away his whole life for you? For some worthless girl?”
“Stop it,” Katherine says and the pain in her voice suddenly lights a fire in my chest. This feels surreal like a nightmare after a long night spent feasting on Katherine’s body, but it’s real, all too fucking real. I surge forward as rage flows into me, rage white-hot and horrible, and a bitter hate I’ve never felt toward my father-figure flares and nearly overwhelms me.
“Grandpop,” I roar and step into the room.
Kat turns. Her face is covered in tears. It’s drowning in sorrow and it breaks me for an instant and banks some of my fire. She looks like she’s bleeding out—her hands are over her gut, though there’s no wound, nothing I can see at least—while Grandpop sits at the end of our bed with his legs crossed and a huge smile on his face like this couldn’t be any better.
“There he is, just the man we’ve been discussing.” He slaps his thighs and laughs. “How are you, Ford?”
“What did you do?” I ask at a low rumble, my hands shaking with anger. “What the fuck did you do?”
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“I told her the truth,” he says simply. “You agreed to get engaged with her to find dirt on her grandfather in exchange for control of our family once I step down. That was why you did this, right?That’s why we’re all here? She might be wondering why you were so pushy, but now it all makes sense, doesn’t it? My boy here is going to ruin you, or at least that was the plan.”
“Ford,” Kat croaks and she’s staring at me with those tear-streaked eyes, the tears glittering on her cheeks, and it’s breaking my fucking heart, it’s breaking me in half. My anger slowly fades and something else replaces it. “Is it true?”
Sorrow floods my hands and feet, and a deep self-loathing grows from lower in my soul. I should’ve told her sooner, I never should’ve let it go this long without telling her the truth and explaining everything—
“I made a decision last night,” I tell her, ignoring Grandpop’s obvious pleasure over this whole thing, desperate to make her see how I feel. “I’m done with him. I’m done with them. Kat, listen—”
“That’s why you wouldn’t promise not to hurt me.” She chokes out a single sob and shakes her head as her shoulders hunch forward. “You said you’d protect me, but you couldn’t protect me from yourself. This is why, isn’t it? God, it all makes sense now.”
“I didn’t want to lie to you,” I say through my teeth. “I never lied—”
“You bastard.” She steps toward me. “You sick, manipulative bastard. You did all this just to hurt me? Just to bring my family down a peg? All over some stupid feud you don’t even care about?”
“Kat, please, if you’d listen—”
“You’re sick, Ford. You’re sick and twisted and you get off on making people suffer, don’t you? I thought we had something. Ithought you cared. You… you treated me like you were starting to care. You acted like you wanted me to stand up for myself, like you gave a crap if my family treated me like shit, but it was all just bullshit, wasn’t it?” Her chin lifts and her lower lip trembles and, fuck, this is killing me, this is breaking me, if only she could understand what I’m going to give up for her— “I’m done. I’m finished with this. My life’s always been like this and always going to be like this. Every time I think something good’s about to happen, it turns out to be just another twisted prank. Even you were only ever a bully in the end, Ford, and I hate you for it. I hate you so much for making me think I could love you. And you know what? You were right, I need to have a spine, and I’m going to walk out of here and never see you again. Do you understand, Ford?”
“Kat, no, don’t let this old bastard—” That wordloveis wrenching me in half.Love, love, love, that’s what I’ve been feeling, I’ve been right on the edge of that word and too afraid to let it in but now that I’ve finally decided to open myself to the truth of how I feel about her, my stupid decisions are tearing me apart again.
“Goodbye, Ford.” She turns and walks to the door, and I reach for her thinking if I could just explain, I could make her understand that it might’ve started out one way, but it’s something else completely now, that I’m ready to give up everything for her because this is real, this isreal.
But she steps back quickly and she looks like she wants to scream. “Don’t you touch me,” she says harshly. “Don’t you ever touch me again. I’m leaving, Ford, and I don’t ever want to hear from you again. God, I gave so much to you, and it’s always the same. I’m always fucking humiliated in the end.”
“Kat, don’t walk away.”
But she’s already gone. Already going down the hall. Already heading down the stairs. I follow her but she disappears onto the elevator and the last thing I see are the tears falling down her face again and the pure, incredible, gut-ripping pain etched all over her face.
I stand there and stare at my hands, trying to understand what just happened. Numb, depleted, drained, and emotionally wrecked.
I lost everything.
My one chance at being something more than a heartless monster like my grandfather. My one opportunity to be a man, a man worthy of a woman like Katherine.
All gone.
“Ah, boy, I know you’re upset, but she’s just a girl,” Grandpop says and slaps my shoulder. I barely feel it. “Whoops, almost forgot my wallet.” He laughs as he plucks it from the counter then walks past me to the elevator. “Cheer up, Ford. I suppose it’s not all bad. Riley’s going to be heir—”
I take two steps to my grandfather and my hands ball into fists. “Get out.”
His eyebrows raise. “You look like you want to hit me.”
“Get thefuck out, old man.” I’m snarling now, lost in rage. I want to kill him. I want to watch him die on my floor right now. But that won’t bring Kat back.
He took everything from me. He took my childhood, my dignity, my world, and now he’s taking Katherine.
She was the only decent thing I’ve ever had and he managed to fuck it up.
I managed to fuck it up too, by not telling her, by letting myself get used by this sick old man.
That thought is the only thing keeping me from breaking my grandfather’s jaw.
I did this too.
“You really liked her, didn’t you? Stupid boy.” He shakes his head and hits the call button. “I had such high hopes really, such high hopes, and look at you now.”
“If I see you again, I’ll kill you. Do you hear me? I’m through with the Arc family.”
“Don’t you worry about that. I won’t even be petty and try to take away your trust. You know, all the money I made for you.” He sneers as the elevator doors open and he steps inside. “Good luck, Ford. I suppose you’ll need it now that you’re all alone.”
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The doors close, and he’s right.
I’m all alone.
I drop to my knees and put my forehead on the floor and stay like that for a long time, thinking about Katherine and how I have nothing left, nothing at all.
Chapter 24
Kat
Iclutch my glass of wine like it’s the only thing keeping me from drowning.
Because it really might be.
Tina looks at me like she’s afraid I’m about to walk out into traffic. I know I’ve been a pretty pathetic sight these last few days, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to forget about what happened back at the apartment. I’ve been staying with her ever since I ran out on Ford because I can’t bring myself to go back to the Stockton mansion and I have nowhere else to go. I feel like someone dipped me in acid and tried to melt off my skin. Tina’s a good person, even if she hides it under her rough no-bullshit exterior, and I appreciate her so much for letting me sleep on her couch and mope in her living room.
I’m not the easiest person to be around right now.
“We could always burn his house down, you know,” Tina says thoughtfully as she kicks her feet up on the coffee table.
“That wouldn’t work. He lives in an apartment.”
“Good point. Too much collateral damage.” She touches a finger to her lip. “Maybe we could burn down hisfamily’shouse. Don’t they have one of those fancy mansions?”
“It’s too big and they have too much security. They’d never let it burn.”
“Old-fashioned murder?”
I laugh a little and shake my head. “I appreciate the offer but I just want to forget him. If I could take a scrub-brush to my brain right now, I’d do it. Ever see that movieEternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind? It’s all about a guy and a girl going through some special memory-erasing procedure meant to erase each other from their brains. I wish I could do that to Ford right about now.”
“Oh, god, isn’t that some like early 2000s indie movie, really deep, very manic-pixie-dream-girl stuff?”
“Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet, but yeah, that’s the idea.”
She rolls her eyes. “You don’t need some sappy, sepia-toned bullshit. You needrevenge.” She slams her fist into her hand and glares at me. “No killing, but at least we can break his kneecaps. Look, I know some criminals—”
“That’s not really my style.”
Tina sighs and leans against me. “I know, sweetie, I just wish it were. I hate seeing you like this.”
“I hate feeling like this.”
We sip our wine and lapse into silence. It’s been days since I left that apartment and I still feel it all as if it just happened.Ford’s anger and pain, his grandfather’s glee and delight, the humiliation as it all sunk in.
It was a game. From the very start, it was a game. I knew it wasn’t real—he made that very clear—but I didn’t know it was all at my expense. Ford didn’t want me to help him heal our two families. He never thought his grandfather would go for that. It was always about him using me, and he didn’t seem to care that it would throw me under the bus and run me over so long as he got what he wanted.
His dream position as head of the family.
That’s all he’s ever cared about.
Even if I thought he cared about me for a second—it was all a lie.
I should’ve seen this from the start. Why would a guy like Ford ever want to be with a girl like me? Why would someone like him shower me with compliments, with desire, with all that sex? He was using me and I gave myself to him, I gave my body and mind and heart, and he stomped it out and ruined it.
I feel used and disgusting, and I hate Ford Arc more than I ever thought possible.
Except I hate myself just as much.
Now I understand why his excuses seemed flimsy at the beginning. It was only a pretext to get what he really wanted and I was desperate enough and stupid enough and so afraid for my mother that I didn’t look too closely at what he was saying. I didn’t think about it, didn’twantto think about it, and now I’m paying the real price.
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He offered me what I’d always dreamed of: a way out of my life.
I just wish he’d gone through with it instead of dragging me through the mud like that. I wish he’d made it quick at least, instead of making it last and making it so much worse.
I wish he hadn’t fucked me thenfuckedme.
Ford Arc is a monster and always was.
I keep thinking about him twisting Sara Lynn’s wrist back and the manic grin on his face, the pure pleasure in his eyes.
He did that to me, only so much worse.
I’d rather let him break my wrist than take my virginity and break my heart.
Tina says, “I just want to be clear that this isnota hint or anything like that.” She gets up to refill our glasses. “But what are you going to do?”
“I really don’t think I have many options,” I admit and the feeling of being stuck weighs me down. “Right now, I plan on getting drunk again and sleeping for as long as possible.”
“But you can’t do that forever.” She frowns at me and I know she’s worried, but my brain’s not working well enough to plan much further out than a few hours. “What about the farm? And your family? Are they going to kick you out when they realize what happened?”
“I haven’t told them.”
Her eyebrows shoot straight up. “You haven’twhat?”
“Grandfather’s going to be happy when he hears it,” I say miserably as she hands me my glass. “He couldn’t have actually thought I was going to spy for him and this is even better. Now he’s going toreallyown me.”
“I’m sure he hoped you would, but—” She shrugs and sits cross-legged at the other end of the couch. “So, what, you’re going to go home? Let your grandfather boss you around?”
“I don’t have any other options.”
“Honey,” she says softly, “you’rerich. You have all the options in the world.”
“Except I’m not. Grandfather controls my trust for another few years and now that Mom’s missing again, he’s never going to relinquish his rights when the time comes. He’s going to bog me down in proceedings until I’m forced to walk away. I’m stuck, Tina.”
“There has to be some legal thing you can do.” She gets her faraway expression, the one she has when she’s doing lawyer-stuff in her head. “I could ask around if you want.”
“That’s okay. Really, you’ve done more than enough just letting me be a pathetic blob for the last few days.”
“Hon, you want to be a blob, go ahead and be a blob. You have all the time you want if that’s what you need. I’m just worried, is all.”
“I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse, right?”
She smiles and shakes her head sadly but she doesn’t agree.
I sit back and sip my drink. I try not to think about Ford and his hands on my skin and his mouth against my neck. Could he really have faked all that? Was any of it real? That man must be the most amazing actor in the world because I caught him at least a dozen times giving me looks when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, these longing, lust-filled looks. He’s either a master manipulator, or some part of what we had was real. Andeven if that’s the case, wanting to fuck me is one thing, but clearly that wasn’t enough.
I don’t know what to do.
I feel lost and like I have nowhere to turn. I don’t want to go home back to Grandfather, but Ford was my only shot at getting away. Without him, I’m screwed, and sooner or later I’ll have to swallow my pride and give Grandfather what he’s been wanting from the start.
Complete control over my life.
My phone begins to ring. I frown at it and don’t feel like getting up to answer. But Tina nudges me and I sigh, stand, and walk to where it’s buzzing on the kitchen counter.
I don’t recognize the number. Most people would ignore a call like this, but it sets my stomach tingling.
Most of the time it’s a telemarketer robot calling to check on my vehicle’s extended warranty, but sometimes when Mom’s on a bender and she’s been missing for a while…
I answer and nearly scream when it’s her voice. “Hi, honey,” Mom croaks. “I bet you’re really mad right now.”
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“Mom,” I say and have to force myself not to start crying. I’m so relieved she’s still alive it’s almost painful. “Where are you? Why did you leave the clinic? Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you right now.”
“Ah, sweetie, look. I love you so much, I really do, and you know how your mom is. She’s a total mess, right?” Her voice is low and distant and nervous, and my hope turns sour. I know what’s coming next and I wish she wouldn’t do it. “But I gotta ask for money.”
“Mom,” I say sharply. “You have to be kidding.”
“I know you’re mad. I really don’t even blame you. But, honey, I owe some people some a lot of cash and they’re not very nice people. I need it, please, I really need some money.”
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. “Mom, I don’t have anything to give you.”
“Ford. Ask Ford. He’s got so much money, he won’t even notice—”
“Ford and I split up.”
A short pause. “Honey, what thefuckwere you thinking, walking out on that man? He was your golden ticket! That rich bastard was going to keep us afloat for years! Or did you do something fucking stupid to get yourself dumped? You wouldn’t give that man anything to keep him happy? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I squeeze my eyes shut as anger flares through me. “Can you please stop? Just stop it, okay? Ford was using me, Mom. It was always fake.”
She laughs and I can imagine the look on her face. Her eyes must be glassy, her face drooping. “He was using you and you were using him too! Or I thought you were, since I thought you were smart, but maybe I was wrong.”
“Stop it,” I say sharply. Mom can be mean when she’s desperate and high, and I know she’s going to say something she’ll apologize for later, and I want to skip the whole cycle of hurt and forgiveness this time if I can manage it. “It was all some complicated revenge scheme his grandfather came up with to getat our family. He was using me to hurt the Stocktons. To hurt Grandfather.”
She lets out a long breath. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I thought you had a good thing going. Really, baby, you should’ve let him screw over your grandfather, that old bastard deserves it. I really thought you had something good for once.”
“I did too, Mom.”
“Doesn’t change anything for me though. I need money, honey. Maybe you can talk to your grandfather—”
“No,” I say sharply, almost pleading. “I’m not home. I haven’t been back since—since I left Ford.”
“Well, honey, go back. I can wait a little while, but not forever, okay?”
“Where are you? Tell me where you are and maybe I can do something.” Like drive over and drag her back to rehab.
“Sorry, honey, can’t do that. I’ll call again soon, okay? I love you, hon. Go home and talk to your grandfather for me, I really need it.” She hangs up and the line goes dead.
I put my drink down, and Tina’s staring at me with pity and horror in her eyes. I hate that look, but I can’t blame her for it. She doesn’t have the best relationship with her family but compared to this it must seem likeThe Brady Bunch.
“You okay?” she asks.
I shake my head as tears fall down my face. “She’s high and asking for money again.”
“Oh, fuck, Kat. I’m so sorry.” She gets up and comes over and wraps her arms around me. “I hate that this is happening to you.”
I cry. It’s pathetic and I can’t help myself. I cry into her shoulder and hate myself for letting my life get to this point. I took a risk with Ford and I thought it could work out, but now I see that I’ll only ever be a punching bag at best. If I want to help my mother, I need to give up on this stupid idea of getting away from my family.
They’ll always own me and I’ll always be nothing to them.
“It’s okay,” I say and pull back, wiping my face. “I’m a mess, I’m so sorry.”
“Hon, if anyone can be a mess right now, it’s you. What are you going to do?”
“I have to go back,” I whisper and pull myself away from her.
I down my wine in a few gulps and stand there staring at the counter and my phone willing them to do something for me, but they won’t—nothing ever does.
My mother’s off somewhere getting high and buying drugs from people that would happily kill her if she doesn’t pay them, and I have to make a choice. Let her live with her bad decisions or go back to my family and save her life again.
There’s no real option here.
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I’m damned either way. I’ll live with the horror and regret and the self-loathing if I do nothing and she gets hurt, or I’ll live as a piece of trash and a slick of scum on the bottom of my family’s boot if I debase myself enough to save her.
Either way, I’m nothing.
But at least if I go home, I can help my mother and maybe one day she’ll straighten out.
Maybe one day.
I wish Ford were here.
But that’s never going to happen.
Chapter 25
Ford
The apartment feels like a prison, but it’s one I can’t make myself leave.
Everything reminds me of her: the colors, the pillows, the smell of her shampoo, the way the mugs are stacked in the cupboard, the decorations on the walls. It’s Katherine, every bit of it is Katherine, and it’s killing me as each day passes and she’s still not here and I’m still stuck.
“You’re a mess, you know that, right?” Carmine stands next to me at the windows overlooking the city. It’s night, a little after eight, and Brice is cooking dinner in the kitchen. I sip my whiskey and grunt in response. “Come on, I’ve never seen you like this before, Ford.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Tell me you’re all right.”
“I’m not.”
“Tell me you’regoingto be all right.” Carmine tilts his head. “Maybe you need to get out—”
“I’m not going anywhere.” I finish my drink and suck on my teeth. “You know the sickest part of all this?”
Carmine shakes his head. “What’s that?”
“I told Evander the truth a while back when I went to visit him. Don’t give me that look, he’s better at keeping a secret and he doesn’t have a wife to provide him a moral compass.”
“I’m insulted but not surprised.”
“That’s fine. But here’s the thing. Evander told me that if I was going to hurt her, I’d better make it fast. Don’t make her suffer.” I reach out and touch the cool window. “And he was right.”
Carmine swirls his drink. “I don’t know about that.”
“If I wasn’t going to come clean, I needed to steal her phone and get that ugly shit over with right away. Instead, I kept going back and forth, back and forth, and dug myself a deeper grave. I made it a thousand times harder by holding back.”
“That’s a bit dramatic.”
“But I’m not wrong. I couldn’t have fucked this up worse.”
Carmine glances over his shoulder and watches Brice for a moment. Her hair’s up in a messy bun and she’s wearing a conservative dress with an apron over top. She’s moving between pans, chopping ingredients, sipping the smallest glass of white wine, and the look on Carmine’s face sends a spike of agony into my chest. He looks at her like he’d die for her. Like he’d do anything for her. And I recognize some of myself in those eyes: that’s how I looked at Kat.
But Kat’s gone.
“I almost lost her once, you know,” Carmine says quietly. “I thought she was better off without me.”
“You didn’t though.”
“It was still an ugly chapter in my life.” He lets out a long breath. “I figured she’d be safer without me, but I was wrong. It only made everything so much worse.”
“This isn’t the same thing.”
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“Go talk to her. I know you’re hurting—but Kat’s a grown woman. She can understand, that’s all I mean. You don’t want regrets over things you didn’t do.”
I grip my glass tightly. “Youchoseto walk away from Brice, right?”
“It didn’t feel like a choice at the time. It felt like Ihadto do it, like I think you feel right now.”
“It was still a choice. But thisisn’tmy choice. My grandfather forced this on me. He told Kat the truth and Kat walked out and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.”
“We all make a thousand little choices all the time, Ford. You can choose to go talk to her.”
“I can’t.”
“Are you sure about that? You could call—”
“She blocked my number, and yes, I know I could get a different one, but what will that accomplish? Let it go, Carmine.”
He looks at me sadly. “I’d say the same to you, but I doubt you can.”
I get myself a refill and wish I’d never let Carmine and Brice up here. But then again, I’ve been stewing in my own misery for long enough and even though Carmine doesn’t understand what I’m going through, it’s still nice to have humans around that care about me for once.
We sit down to eat in the dining room. Carmine tells stories about the mob life and Brice adds her own color, bringing down Carmine a bit when he gets a little too full of himself, propping him up when he doesn’t give himself enough credit, and watching the two of them work together is one of the sweetest things I’ve ever seen. They’re always like this, supporting each other even if they don’t always agree about everything the other says, and it only makes me miss Kat that much more.
“You’re impressive, Brice,” I say when we’re finished. “That was the best meal I’ve had in a while.”
“Based on your refrigerator, it seems like it was theonlymeal you’ve had in a while.” She grins at me and waves her fork in the air. “But you’re welcome.”
“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m surviving.” I hold my glass to my lips and savor the dark bite of the whiskey.
“Surviving isn’t always enough, you know,” Brice says and leans toward me. “What are you going to do?”
“He’s going to sit around and feel sorry for himself,” Carmine says.
Brice kicks him under the table and he curses. “Seriously, Ford,” she presses. “What are you going to do?”
I put my drink down and spread my hands. “What is there for me now? Riley’s officially taking over the family. Grandpopannounced it yesterday and now everyone knows I’ve been pushed aside.”
Carmine glances at Brice. “We heard. Listen, brother—”
“It’s fine,” I say quickly before he can apologize. I’m sick of hearing the wordsI’m sorrycome out of his fucking face. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Brice says. “You’re a mess.”
“What do you two want from me?” I glare at them and push my chair back. “It’s beendays. You think I should be out there finding a new Katherine or something?”
“I think you should be out there findingKatherine,” Brice says.
I shake my head and walk away from the table. My heart’s racing, and I don’t want to be rude to her after she cooked me a nice meal. She has my best interests at heart, she and Carmine both do, but I can’t take this bullshit. They don’t know how bad it was, they weren’t there, they don’t understand Katherine like I do. They can’t see how this betrayal played into all her worst fears and how fucked up it all was.
I hate myself for how it went down, and I bet she feels the same.
“You still care about her, brother.” Carmine’s voice follows me as I lean against the kitchen counter.
I shake my head and refill my drink. Whiskey splashes onto the marble. “What’s it fucking matter?”
“That’s the only thing that matters. You really care about her. Maybe that shit started off the wrong way but it changed and now you care. You can’t let that go.”
“I can’t force her to forgive me.”
“No, you can’t, but you can at least do something to prove how you feel.”
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“Like what?” I turn on him, growling in the back of my throat, so mad I’m starting to turn on the only people that really give a shit about me, aside from Gareth and Evander and Lanzo. The Atlas Organization is all I have left now. What a strange turn my life’s taken. “You think she’ll listen to me now? I fucked it up. It’s all over. I’m done, finished. Forget about her.”
“No,” Carmine says and jabs a finger at me. “Youforget about her. But you can’t, can you? That’s what you’re trying to do, but you can’t seem to go all the way. Why haven’t you moved out of here yet?”
“I left the family. I have nowhere else to go.”
“Bullshit. You’re still filthy rich. You could go live in a dozen places right now if you wanted, but you’re here for a reason. You still care about her and you need to do something about it. Admit it, Ford.”
“Fuck you.”
“Admit it, you stubborn asshole.”
“Okay, I fucking love her,” I say on the edge of shouting. “Does that make you feel better? Do you want me to keep debasing myself? I love her, god damn it, and there’s nothing I can fucking do about it.”
Brice comes out of the dining room. She’s smiling sadly at me and leans against Carmine’s shoulder. “You love her,” she says. “That’s all you need to know, isn’t it? You love her.”
I step back, breathing hard. I throw my drink down my throat and slam the glass onto the counter. It cracks but doesn’t break, and I let it go with a rough grunt.
I love her. I love Katherine. I’ve loved Kat for a while now, maybe since I first saw her, definitely since I first kissed her. I love her in a way I’ve never loved another person before and now that she’s gone, it’s like losing a piece of me and I don’t know how to get it back.
But Carmine’s right. Brice is right. I love her and that’s all that matters.
“What am I supposed to do?” I ask them and hate myself for the pathetic pain in my tone.
“I don’t know,” Brice admits and Carmine only shakes his head. “But you have to figure it out, right? You have to make her understand.”
“Make her understand.” I turn away from them toward the windows. Kat’s in every inch of this place, in every corner. Memories of her haunt me. Of kissing her, laughing with her. Taking her body on every surface of his place. Fuck, I miss her.
But there has to be a way.
I could stay in this apartment forever and let the guilt and self-loathing chew me down to the bone. I could let myself rot and decay until I’m nothing. I could go crawling back to Grandpop and hope Riley lets me back into the family. I could do a thousand things—but all I want is her.
“I think I have an idea,” I say and take a deep breath as I find my resolve again. “But I don’t know if it’ll work.”
“You have to try,” Brice says. “That’s all you can do.”
I nod to myself. I have to try, and maybe she’ll understand, or maybe she won’t, but I have to try.
Chapter 26
Kat
Grandfather’s office is too warm. I sink into the chair and wish I could keep on going, down through the floor, down into the earth, down where it’s quiet, and I don’t have to keep going through the motions of my embarrassing and painful life. He comes around his desk and puts his hand on my shoulder and smiles like a predator grinning at his next meal.
“I’m glad you came home,” he says. “You made the right choice.”
“I’m worried about Mom,” I say. “She sounded bad when she called.”
“Your mother will be fine. She’s a survivor.” Grandfather walks back behind his desk and stands there facing me with his hands behind his back. “But you and I have to have a discussion before this goes any further.”
This is what I was waiting for. When Grandfather said he was willing to discuss my place in the family again, I knew this was coming, and I showed up anyway.
Tina tried to talk me out of it. She almost succeeded. But the memory of Mom’s voice on the phone made me get up and gocrawling back to Grandfather because he’s the only person in the world that can help Mom now. And what would I be if I let my own selfishness get in the way of Mom’s safety? I can’t live with myself if I turn my back on my own mother, no matter how bad things get.
“You will marry a man of my choosing,” Grandfather says, chin tilted up, staring down at me like I’m an ant on the road. “No more lists. No more choice. I will inform you of your new husband, and you will walk down the aisle without a single complaint. Do you understand?”
I look away from him, down at my hands. I curl them together in my lap and nod once. “Yes, Grandfather.”
“Good. If you’re capable of doing that without embarrassing me further, I will consider helping your mother.” He pauses and lets out a sigh. “Did she call for money again?”
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“I think she owes her dealer.”
“Your mother is resourceful. She’ll survive until you’re married.”
“I don’t know.” I look up and try to tap into the well of confidence I found when I was with Ford but it feels like that well is dry now. “She sounded worse than usual, Grandfather. I’m really worried.”
“She’ll be fine, and besides, I don’t plan on letting you wait very long. This man I have in mind will be very amenable to a quick turnaround. I’m thinking a few weeks at most? Then you’ll be married and we can put all this unpleasantness with the Arc family behind us. Does that work?”
I nod and keep my back as straight as I can but all I want to do is slump forward and curl into a ball and cry. “That works.”
“Two weeks then and you’ll be a married woman. Oh, don’t look so glum about it, Katherine. This is going to be good for you, I promise. You’ll have purpose now.”
“Purpose, right. Thank you, Grandfather.”
“Next time you speak to your mother, tell her to call me. I’ll pick up.”
I nod and slowly stand. That’s a little candle of hope in the otherwise windy darkness of my soul. “Thank you.”
“Now go back to your room and get settled. I’ll call you down for dinner later and we’ll discuss our plans further. For now, I have to get in touch with a few people.”
I turn and leave his office, feeling empty.
Back here again. Back in the Stockton house. Back in this place, letting Grandfather boss me around, feeling like a stranger among my own family. I’m going to get sold off to a total stranger in two weeks and I’ll do it to make sure my mother doesn’t end up dead in a ditch. I’m back to this again, back to where I started, and I hate myself so much I could vomit.
My poor future husband doesn’t know that he’s getting a lemon.
“Oh, there you are, Kit-Kat.” My blood runs deadly cold and I look up. Sara Lynn’s waiting for me down the hall, grinning mercilessly, standing between me and the stairs heading up to my room. “I heard you came home with your tail between your legs.”
“I’m not in the mood, Sara Lynn,” I say, put my head down, and try to keep going.
But she stands in my way and forces me to stop. “Like I was in the mood at La Mode? You remember that, don’t you? You remember what Ford said to me? Do you have any idea howdistressingI found that entire encounter? And all the questions I’ve had to endure since you shacked up with that psychopath. Really, Kit-Kat, if you wanted to rebel against the family, you could’ve done it when you were younger, but now it’s only sad and pathetic.”
Anger suddenly sparks in my chest. I look up at her and clench my jaw tightly. “I told you, I’m not in the mood for this.”
“Oooh, look at you.” She laughs lightly. “Come on, Kit-Kit, don’t look at me like that, like you’re all mad. I’m not the one that got together with Ford Arc, that was your big, stupid mistake, isn’t that right? And anyway, it’s okay now, he figured out what you really are and dumped you and now you’re home. Grandfather will find a use for you after all. Things work out, don’t they?”
“He didn’t dump me,” I say quietly, staring at her, seething, my heart racing. “I left him.”
“Did you? Doesn’t matter. He would’ve seen you for what you are eventually.” She jabs a finger into my chest. “Fat.” Jab. “Stupid.” Jab. “Lazy.” Jab. “Worthless.” Jab—
I snatch her finger and grab it tight. Her eyes widen as I squeeze. “Leave me alone.”
“Don’t you touch me with your filthy hands. My god, have you washed them since you were last with Ford? Ugh, you are truly disgusting, Kit-Kit. You are truly inconsequential, pointless, unimportant, useless—”
I release her finger, cock my arm back, and slam my fist into her face.
She yelps like a hurt dog. Blood spurts from her pretty straight nose and her hands fly up as she staggers backwards and falls down on her ass. I’m freaking out, heart racing, head a dizzy mess, and I stand over her breathing hard and staring at her blood and at her surprised and pained face and the tears in her eyes, and I want to kill her. I want to kick her, again and again, until she’s dead. Instead, I lean down and look her in the face.
“I told you I wasn’t in the mood,” I say through my teeth.
“Youbitch,” she hisses. “You broke my nose, oh my god! You hit me!”
“Sara Lynn, listen to me right now. If you ever talk to me like that again, I swear on my life, I will do more than break your nose next time. I will beat you until you’re a bloody little pulp.”
“Isthiswhat Ford taught you? My good, he’s a brute, you’re a brute, you just as bad as him!”
I cock my fist back and she flinches away, yelping and groaning and covering her head with her arms.
I slowly straighten up and stand over her.
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“Talk to me like that again and find out what I’ll do to you.”
She stares back at me and the fear in her eyes is the most delicious thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
Slowly, she shakes her head. “Okay, Katherine, I understand.”
“Good.” I walk past my cousin and leave her on the floor with a bloody nose.
I’m going to get in so much trouble for that. Grandfather’s going to kill me, but as I head into my room and slam the doorand stand with my back against it, I suddenly don’t care about anything else except the look in Sara Lynn’s eyes.
The utter and total fear.
Elation tears through me. Excitement and joy, and I can’t help it as laughter bubbles up and breaks out. I should be sobbing right now but instead I’m cracking up, doubled over, howling with pleasure. It felt so freaking good to stand up to Sara Lynn, and I never really believed I’d do it, but I finally punched her right in her stupid smug face the way she’s always deserved. Maybe violence isn’t the answer and it definitely wasn’t the mature thing to do—
But my god, it feltso good.
I wish Ford were here to see it.
And that thought slowly drains all my excitement away.
Grandfather’s going to kill me when Sara Lynn inevitably runs and complains to him. I’m trying to ingratiate myself to the family again, not give them more reasons to get rid of me.
But for one glorious moment, I felt free. I feltgood.
I’m going to hold on to that for a while because I’m not sure when I’ll get to feel like that again.
Chapter 27
Ford
The old private investigator hands me the file. It’s stuffed with black and white photographs of the rundown cheap motel we’re parked in front of. The place is a dump: weeds in the parking lot, a van on blocks in the far corner, the sign straight-up missing a letter so that it readsGood est Inninstead ofGood Rest Inn.
“You sure about this?” he asks me. Don Lamon came highly recommended: discreet, reliable, and obscenely expensive. I was on the fence when I called him but now I see why he charges so much.
The man gets results.
“I’m sure,” I say, flipping through the photographs. They were taken with a high-powered lens and at a distance, but they all show the same woman. Older, wrinkled, worn down and tired. But the eyes and the nose are so familiar it kills me.
“Just so you know, she keeps some heavy company.” Don shifts in his seat and pats the gun he keeps under his simple black jacket. “I’d be happy to provide some backup.”
I smile and shake my head. “No, thank you. I’m going in alone.”
“Can’t promise she’s in there by herself, kid. You sure about this?”
“I’m sure. If you hear screaming and gunshots, consider your contract finished.”
He laughs and shrugs. “All right, your call. Good luck then.”
I hand him back the photographs and push the door open. The air smells like gasoline and car fumes from the highway on the other side of the trees. Traffic is a dull groan. I walk toward the stairwell that leads up to the second floor, my shoes crunching over gravel.
It took Don two weeks. Those were two painful weeks, but right now it feels like all that time and money was worth it. I climb the steps and the railing is cold under my fingertips. We’re up in Oklahoma, about an hour south of Tulsa, and the only things around here are cattle and meth labs.
I stop outside of room 207. It looks like any other cheap motel: teal door, burnished brass handle, thick white blinds over the windows. The smell of beer and cigarette smoke sits thick in the air. I knock twice and wait.
There’s nothing. No response. I knock again, and again, pounding on the door. I’m starting to wonder if maybe she’s not here, or if maybe she moved on already, when something peeks out from behind the curtains. It’s barely a movement, barely a glimpse of an eye.
“Jackie Stockton,” I say loudly. “I know you’re in here. All I want to do is talk.”
“Yeah? Who the fuck are you?” The voice is gravelly and low, but definitely feminine.
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“My name’s Ford Arc, ma’am. I just want to talk.”
There’s a pause. More silence. I think she’s gone away and I’m fucked, but suddenly the door unlocks with a loud thunk and it opens a crack, the chain still in place.
A woman stares out at me with narrowed eyes. She’s frowning, looking bleary and weathered, but that’s the same woman from the photograph.
Katherine’s mother. I finally fucking found her.
“Ford?” she asks and tilts her head. “Kat told me you two split up. What are you doing here?” Her eyes widen a touch. “Did she ask you about the money?”
“She mentioned the money,” I lie and lean in. “We’ve got to talk.”
She clears her throat. The door closes, the chain pulls back, and it opens up a second later. “I’ve got beer and cigarettes. Don’t mind the mess.”
The room smells like musty socks. I shut the door behind me and yank open the drapes to get some light. She’s right, the mess is ugly: fast food wrappers, drug paraphernalia, pill bottles, a crack pipe, needles and heroin gear, magazines strewn all over the floor, clothes thrown in piles. Jackie trudges over it all to the minifridge, takes out a beer, cracks it open, and chugs half. It’s barely eleven in the morning.
“That’s better,” she grunts and sits down on the edge of the bed. She’s thin, nearly emaciated, with dark leathery skin and old, faded tattoos. She looks more like a woman used to bikerbars than the daughter of an aristocratic rich man, but Jackie Stockton has had a very hard life.
I take a seat on a chair that looks relatively clean and try to ignore the cocaine on the mirror in front of me.
“Have you talked to Kat lately?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “I called a couple times but she hasn’t been much help. Her grandfather hates me.”
“I heard.”
“Did you come with the money? I don’t need all that much, just a couple thousand and then—”
“No, I don’t have any money.”
Her expression narrows. “I thought you said—”
“I lied.”
She slowly stands up. “I think you should go then.”
I don’t move. I lean back and cross my legs and tilt my head, studying her. This is the woman that has caused Kat so much trouble, and there’s a dark part of me that wants to push her down onto the bed, cover her with a pillow, and snuff her out. Kat’s life would be so much simpler without her mother in this world acting as the tether that keeps her chained to that awful family.
But I’m not in the business of doing things that cause Kat pain anymore.
“Did you know that your daughter is going to marry Matthew Keyne in a few weeks?”
Her mother hesitates. “I heard something about him before.”
“She despises Matthew Keyne. He’s an old money asshole who thinks he’s the greatest thing on the planet, and he’s going to make her life miserable.”
She wavers and slowly sinks back down. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because she’s going to do it for you?”
Jackie rears back. “For me? The hell?”
“She cut a deal with your father. Kat marries Matthew, your father continues to keep you alive. But until then, you get nothing, which is why Kat hasn’t come through with any money yet.”
“How the hell do you know all this?”
“Because I know Kat and I know exactly what your father would demand of her. He’s exactly like my grandpop, and if I were in her position, my grandpop would use everything he can against me. Also, I asked her cousin.”
Jackie cackles softly and tugs at her hair. “So what if she marries a rich guy? Life could be worse.”
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“She should marry me.”
Jackie’s eyebrows raise and she goes still. “I thought you broke her heart.”
“I did.” I don’t look away even if the shame is almost overwhelming. “I fucked up. Things between us started out one way, but they turned into something else. They turned into something real. She left when she learned how it started, but she hasn’t figured out where I am yet. I want to show her that.”
Her mother sits still, studying me. I’ve met people like Jackie Stockton before, men and women that have lived hard, that have given in to their addictions and found ways to continue on without letting those addictions consume them completely. They’re survivors, hardened and tough and resilient, but essentially zombies, slaves to their desires. It’s a disease, an ugly disease, and Jackie Stockton turned it into something low-level and chronic, something that’ll eat at her for a long time and destroy everything around her.
Unless she finds a way to stop.
And she damn well knows it too.
“If you want me to put in a good word for you, I charge by the millisecond.”
I shake my head. “No, Jackie. I’m here to take you home.”
“Good luck with that.”
“Here’s what I’m thinking. I’ll pay off all your debts, every single dime you owe to whatever dangerous scumbag you got tangled up with, and you’ll come back with me to that very nice rehab clinic you left a few weeks back.”
“Why in the world would I do that?” She tilts her head, scowling at me.
“Because right now, you’re at a crossroads.” I sit forward, elbows on my knees, staring into her eyes. “You’ve been doing this a long time, haven’t you? You’re tired. I can see it.”
“You don’t know a thing about me, boy. Don’t get cute.”
“You’re not a bad person, Jackie. You’re only stuck in a loop, but we’re going to break it. Me and you.”
“What makes you think you do a damn thing for me? I’m fine where I am. I’m taking care of myself, which is more than I can say for all the idiots back in my family.”
“No, your daughter is taking care of you.”
“That’s not true,” she says, her voice low and angry. “That’s not true at all.”
“Katherine’s done nothing but sacrifice her own freedom and comfort and self-esteem to keep you alive, and now you have a choice. You can come with me, take my money, try to do right for yourself, or you can damn your daughter to a hellish, miserable life all for your own selfish failures. That’s the choice you’re facing and you don’t have long to make it.”
Jackie looks at me for a long moment. Her anger wanes and she seems to deflate. I think she’s going to agree, but instead she grabs a pack of cigarettes and lights one. She takes a long drag and sighs.
“Daddy used to hit me with a beautiful old walking stick. He said it was from Ireland in the eighteenth century, but I have no clue if that was true or not. He’d hit me with it and hit me with it, and he’d tell me that if I moved and I broke the stick, he’d use the sharp end to kill me. I never told anyone that. Daddy and I were close for a long time, and I loved him so much, but there was always a path, a very narrow path, the correct path, and if I strayed from that path even a few inches he’d bring out the stick. That beautiful stick. Long and dark brown with all these Celtic-looking carvings along the handle, the end tapered. It was hard as hell and strong as anything but I was terrified of breaking that thing.” She takes a long breath and slowly lets it out.
“We were all trapped there,” she says. “But I’m the only one that got out. I’d be dead today if I had stayed, and there are nights where I lie awake and think about my daughter still in that house with that man. I stare at the ceiling and I imagine her crying and I picture Daddy hitting her with that beautiful stick, hitting her over and over while she begs him to stop. But it’s not really her in my dreams, and those aren’t really dreams. They’re memories of what he did to me. I can shut them up for a while, but they never stay quiet for long. I got away from that place, Ford, and I don’t want to go back.”
She lapses into silence. I stare at her and feel a deep, ugly sadness inside of me. These families, they ruin their children by trying to jam them into a perfect mold, and shoving harder when their bodies don’t fit.
“I have scars from the switch my grandpop used,” I tell her softly.
“Me too. Want to compare?”
“No. I want you to come back with me.”
“I’m sorry, Ford. I’m old now and this is what I am. I doubt I’ll ever change.”
“This is your last chance. If you don’t come now, you’re right, you never will. You’ll die in a room like this knowing you left your daughter to suffer for no good reason. I think you know it.”
“Maybe you’re right, but my life isn’t my own and hasn’t been for a long time.” She throws back her beer and sighs. “Speaking of which. I’m going to take a dose. You can stick around if you like, but I’m fine without you too.”
I slowly stand. I’m not in the mood to watch this woman takes intravenous drugs. I head to the door and pause only to look back.
“Don’t do this for me or for your family. Do it for Katherine. I’ll pay for everything and you won’t owe a damn thing to your father. That’s my offer. Real freedom, not whatever this is.”
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I turn the knob and step out.
The morning’s nice. The sunlight’s strong on my face. My skin tingles in the fresh air and I wonder how long Jackie’s been in that room, taking drugs all day, sleeping all morning, doing whatever she does at night. I wonder if she realizes how deeply her family controls her still, even all the way out here, even in the depths of her addiction.
I walk down the steps and I make a decision.
I won’t become like her.
Even if Kat never comes back, I won’t go back to my family. I won’t let Grandpop control me the way he wants to control everyone else. Riley can be his little puppet and he can dance for Grandpop while the old man’s still around. I don’t give a damn about them anymore. I want freedom, real freedom, and the only way to get there is to go through all this shit.
Something good’s waiting for me on the other side. I just have to reach it first.
I open the door to the car. Don’s waiting in there. He cocks his head at me. “You find her?”
“I found her.”
“And how’d that go?”
I shake my head. “She’s a lifelong addict.”
He nods like he knows exactly what I mean, but as I turn toward the driver to tell him to get going, Don touches my shoulder. “Look.”
I turn and stare out the window.
Jackie’s standing on the balcony. She’s got a bag on her shoulder and she’s looking around, squinting at the parking lot, one hand shading her eyes. I push the door open and stand up and wave, and she looks at me for the longest time before waving back. I think she might be high, but when she gets nearer, I can tell her gaze is clear.
“You said you were paying?” she asks.
“You won’t owe me a thing. I’m doing it for Katherine.”
“Real freedom then.” She glances away. “I know who’s been keeping me alive all these years.”
“You’re a survivor.” I walk over and take her bag. “Did you take that dose?”
“No. I figure I might as well start now.”
“It’s a long drive back to Dallas.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse.” She grins at me and I toss her bag in the trunk.
“Jackie Stockton, this is Don Lamon.”
“Pleasure,” Don says.
“Charmed,” Jackie says.
“Drive,” I say and the car pulls out.
Chapter 28
Kat
Ilie out by the pool in the midafternoon sun and stare at the ring on my finger.
It’s a different ring. Not the ring Ford gave me. Another ring, a new ring, diamonds and gold. It’s big, gaudy, expensive. It’s ugly as sin and I hate it.
It’s my win. Might as well be a chain.
I lean my head back and close my eyes. It’s a beautiful day and I’m sitting by the water on a comfortable lounge chair and all I can feel is miserable. I should be happy—I’m getting married soon!—but there’s only bitterness and disgust left in me.
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Grandfather informed me that I will be marrying Matthew Keyne after all and I agreed because I have no other options. Matthew is fine, sort of like a boring puppy, or a sad younger brother, but the idea of actually marrying him repulses me. Not because he’s terrible—but because he’s wrong.
He’s not Ford.
But forget Ford. That man doesn’t exist anymore.
None of this is a surprise. I knew it was coming and it still kills me. The only strange thing that has happened in the last few weeks is the quiet from Sara Lynn—I expected her to run to Grandfather and complain about her broken nose, but instead there’s been nothing.
No whining, no complaining, and no bullying.
It’s actually kind of nice and I wish I had punched her in the face a long time ago.
I’m about ready to get up and head inside when my phone starts ringing. I sit up straight and look down at the number and go very still. It’s a number I recognize and one I never expected to see again.
It’s the rehab place Mom was at back when I was still with Ford.
“Hello?” I say.
“Hiya, sweetie.” Mom’s voice. Clear and crisp. I can tell right away that she’s sober. “How are you?”
“Mom!” I jump to my feet as nervous excitement jolts down my spine. “Where are you? What happened? Are you okay?”
“Settle down, hon, I’m fine. You might be surprised to hear that I’m back in rehab.”
“You’rewhat?”
“I know, baby, I know, but it’s true. I’ve been here for a few days now. I wanted to get straightened out before I called and, well—here I am.”
“How? Did Grandfather find you? Did he send someone?”
“No, your grandfather didn’t find me,” she says and there’s a short pause. My head’s spinning a million miles a minute. This isdifferent—she’s never, ever checked herself in rehab before, not voluntarily at least. It always took something outside of her control, some horrible event, some minor rock bottom, but this is the first time that she went without someone in the family forcing her to go.
“Mom, I am so, so happy that you’re back in rehab right now, buthow? Grandfather’s not paying for anything, right?”
She clears her throat. “No, he’s not, and if I’m lucky, he never will again.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Sweetie, Ford’s the one that found me and he’s the one paying for all this.”
I stand there and stare at the water. A blow-up giraffe floats across the surface. Slowly, my hand drops away from my ear and my phone dangles at my side.
Ford found her. Ford’s paying.
Horror and elation mix deep in my stomach and I want to vomit.
I thought I was done with him. When I walked out, I assumed our deal was over. But what if he’s still honoring his side? What if he’s taking care of my mother even if I’m not there to keep him in line? Tears spring into my eyes, but those tears are bitter and ugly, tinged with betrayal.
He can’t buy his way back into my life. He can help my mother and I’ll even let him if he thinks it’s a way for him to repent, but I willnotallow myself to be used by him ever again. Things between us are over, and they’re going to stay over.
“Honey? Honey? Can you hear me?”
I raise the phone up to my ear again. “Sorry, yeah, I’m here. I’m just… surprised.”
“He asked me not to say anything, but you have a right to know. Honey, are you really going to marry Matthew Keyne?”
“How do you—” But I stop myself. Ford told her, of course. “Yes, Mom. That’s the plan.”
“Please, sweetie. Don’t do it.”
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I stand very still. Sweat rolls down my back. Too many emotions are fighting in my stomach right now. Joy that my mother’s in rehab and she’s safe and sounds clear. Dread that Ford’s the one paying for it. Sorrow that I’m going through with this wedding no matter what.
“Mom,” I say and sigh. “I’m sorry. I know Ford’s doing the right thing now, but we can’t be sure he’ll do it forever. He hurt me and I’m finished with him.”
“You don’t have to go back to him, sweetie, but don’t give yourself away just because you feel some sense of obligation to me. Your grandfather and I have a complicated history, and I know he likes to use me against you, but please. Don’t let him.”
“Mom.”
“Ford prepaid my stay here for three months. I’m going to give it a real effort, okay, sweetie? I’ll be right here, safe and sound, so don’t feel like you need to marry that Matthew boy.”
“Mom.” I squeeze my eyes shut tight. “I’m so happy to hear you say that.”
“You don’t sound happy.”
“It’s just a lot, okay? It’s a lot and it’s sudden.”
“Okay, honey, okay. Listen, I love you. Come visit me when you can, but I’ll be here, you don’t have to worry about me. The money’s already paid. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Right, thanks. I love you too.”
“Talk to you soon.” She hangs up and I’m left alone staring at the water, my mind racing.
Ford found her. Ford got her back into rehab. And Ford paid for it all.
Why would he do something like that?
But I know. Deep in my heart, I know, and as I turn to the house and hurry inside, I know I have to talk to him.
Even if it kills me.
The doorman at our building—Ford’sbuilding now—frowns at me from under his gray shaggy eyebrows as he calls up to my former apartment. “Yes, Mr. Arc, she’s down here waiting. She says she doesn’t wish to come up. Yes, sir, I’ll have her wait. You may use the lobby. I’ll be out front if you need anything.” He hangs up and looks at me. “He’ll be down shortly, miss.” He tips his hat and heads outside to stand near the front doors.
I stand near the waiting area nervously. I pace back and forth, not sure what to expect. I haven’t seen Ford since the day I walked out on him and I don’t want to see him now, but hepaid for my mother’s rehab and I feel like I need to do this. Not necessarily for him, but for me as well.
Seconds tick past. I watch the elevator light up as a passenger rides it down. My stomach’s a mess, a twisted and ugly wreck. I want to get out of here. It’s strange, standing on this end of the waiting room like I’m a guest when I lived here for a little while. The poor doorman must think this is all very strange.
The elevator dings. My heart skips a beat. The doors slide open and there he is, Ford Arc, exactly as he remains in my memory.
Tall and broad. Handsome as sin. He steps toward me with a strange look on his face like he barely believes I’m standing in front of him. He’s in a white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, dark slacks, dress shoes. His hair’s longer and messy, and he needs a shave.
But it’s Ford. Beautiful, perfect Ford.
Our relationship flashes through my head: his lips on mine in the cab, his tongue between my legs, the nights of blistering pleasure we spent in our bed together. I wonder if he still sleeps in that bed. I wonder if it still smells like me. Some of my clothes still carry his scent and I haven’t been able to bring myself to wash them. I don’t know that that means. I don’t want to think about it.
“How are you?” he says, and the silence shatters like a window.
I don’t move toward him, even if I want to. “Been better. You?”
“Same.”
“My mom called me earlier.”
He nods like he isn’t surprised. “I asked her not to tell you I was involved. She’s doing okay though?”
“She sounds good. Ford, Mom’s never gone to rehab without a really good reason before. How’d you do it?”
“I told her you were going to throw your life away.”
Anger flares in my chest. “You had no right. You don’t know anything about me.”
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“Yes, I do. And I’m right. You are going to.” He steps closer. I still don’t move. “Is that his ring?”
I cover my hand and glare. “None of your business.”
“You hate it, don’t you?”
“Ford.”
“It’s not your style, but then again, not many people know you like I do.”
“Stop it. I didn’t come back here to reunite.”
He takes a shallow breath and lets it out. “Why did you come here then?”
“I came to tell you to stay thefuckaway from me.” I blink back the tears and stare at him as hard as I can. I reach down deep for all my anger—all my rage—all the countless times I’ve been bullied and hurt and looked down on and ignored, all the hours I’ve spent hating myself and wishing I looked more like Sara Lynn. I reach for it and hold it and let it warm me up, let it flare bright, let it burn.
Ford grimaces like I kicked him in the face.
“I didn’t plan on hunting you down.”
“No, only my mother,” I say viciously. “Ford, what you did to me, I’ll never, ever forgive you. I’m happy my mom’s safe and getting help, and I’m grateful you decided to pay for it. I really, really am. But I swear, I’m done with you. Leave me alone.”
His hands curl into fists. His jaw works. I think for a second, he’s going to step forward and grab my hair and pull me against him and kiss me. If he does, I’ll bite his tongue off. I’ll whimper, and moan, and I’ll make himpay.
Instead, he slowly relaxes and looks at me with a tired smile. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told your mother. The money is no strings attached. I’m going to pay for your mother’s care, and I’ll hire people to watch after her if she runs away again. I’ll keep dragging her ass back in as many times as it takes. I’m actually kind of fond of her now after spending a couple days with her.”
“You spent time with her?”
“It was a long car ride from Oklahoma.”
“She was in—never mind, I don’t care. This doesn’t matter. Leave me alone.” I turn to storm off. If I stay and let him keep talking, he’ll convince me to change my mind and that’s the last thing I want, even if I yearn for it so desperately it hurts.
I want him back. I want his kiss, the way he made me feel. I want what we were before I found out the truth of why he got together with me to start with, but that’s gone, blown away by his hideous betrayal. I’ll never see him the same, no matter what.
He’s a different man, and I’m a different woman.
I’m stronger than I was before. Partly, that’s thanks to him. But that strength is why I can leave now and not look back.
“You’re free, Kat,” he says as I reach the door. “You don’t owe me a thing, but you are free. You don’t have to get married. You don’t have to obey your grandfather. Your mother will be taken care of no matter what.”
I grab the door handle. “And if Iwantto marry Matthew?”
“Then I wish you the best of luck, but Jackie’s still going to be fine.”
I wipe the tears from my face. I’ve cried enough over this man, and he doesn’t deserve more.
“Thanks, Ford. Good luck to you too.”
I pull open the door and I walk away.
Chapter 29
Kat
Matthew sits across from me at the Oak Club and drones on and on about some crypto trades he’s making and how much money he stands to win or lose, I can’t really tell which. I pick at my meal, only halfway listening.
“Something wrong?” he asks, and I’m jolted out of my stupor. I honestly didn’t think he’d notice that I haven’t been paying attention.
“No, nothing,” I say.
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“You haven’t touched your steak. It’s a fifty-dollar filet and exquisite, you know. Taste it, go ahead. Taste it.”
I shake my head. Matthew ordered for both of us and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I don’t like steak very much, and I especially hate when it’s rare. “I’m not—I’m not really hungry.”
“Oh, please, go on, taste it anyway.” He reaches out like he’s going to cut a piece with his own utensils.
I smack them away with my fork.
“No, thank you.” I sit up straight and meet his gaze. “I’d rather not.”
He looks surprised. I can’t really blame him. The Kat he met the first time around would’ve let him feed her like a little baby and even smiled and thanked him for it even if she was gagging the whole time. The old Kat would’ve let him walk all over her.
I’m not that girl anymore. I won’t eat things I don’t like, smile at jokes I hate, pretend like I’m nice and docile and adorable like a good rich girl’s supposed to be. I am what I am and I’m exhausted pretending to be anything else.
“Right, okay, you must be in a mood tonight,” he says and clears his throat. “But all right, no big deal. Did I tell you about the time my brothers and I went fishing from Douglas Reed’s boat? You’lllovethis story. Doug got so drunk…”
I space out and drink my wine and stare off across the club.
It’s a beautiful night and a lovely space. Rich couples eat together in quiet. Powerful men gather at tables, drink incredibly expensive whiskey, discuss the future of the world, and here I am miserably prodding at a hunk of meat and wishing the green beans weren’t so drenched in butter and hoping that Matthew drops dead of a sudden heart attack before I have to go through with marrying him.
He doesn’t deserve that.
Matthew’s not amazing, but he’s also not actively terrible. Yes, he’s pushy about meat, but he’s kind in other ways. He listens when I talk. He laughs at my jokes—sometimes. He smiles and is polite and he even tries to hold my hand during the car ride between my house and here.
It’s actually kind of sweet, except his palm is sweaty and he smells like old cologne.
“Matthew?” I say suddenly, cutting him off as he starts his epic conclusion. It involves beer and a school of flying fish and a lot of strange male nudity.
“Uh,” he says. “Sorry, did you miss something? I can go back—”
“Why are we doing this?”
He blinks at me and clears his throat. “I thought you were hungry. I know the story’s a little silly, but—”
“No, I mean this.” I gesture at the ring on my finger. “Why are you willing to marry me? You barely even know me.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “If you really want to know, my parents are pressuring me into it. You seem nice enough, Katherine, and if Ihaveto get married—well, it might as well be to someone my parents accept.”
“I’m doing it for the same reason,” I say softly and lean back in my seat. “Isn’t that kind of sad?”
“I don’t know. Lots of people get married for that reason. We might grow fond of each other.”
“Don’t you want more than fondness from your wife? Don’t you want—” I gesture in the air. “Explosions? Fireworks?”
He tilts his head. “I’ve never felt that before.”
“I have.”
“With Ford Arc?” His eyebrows are raised up high.
I consider lying to him. I think about telling him no, I never felt that, it was all fake with Ford, that man was a huge mistake—but I’m sick of being anything other than what I am.
“Yes, with Ford, for a little while, and I want that again.”
“Why not be with him then?” Matthew tilts his head. “I mean it. I’m really not angry or upset or jealous. I’m genuinely curious. Why are you here tonight, Katherine? Why are you doing all this?”
I want to give him a straight answer, but I can’t.
It was for my mother. It was for me. I wanted to fit in to the family and make Grandfather happy. I wanted to make sure he’d take care of my mom no matter what.
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And now?
I don’t want to fit in anymore. I don’t care if that old man’s proud of me or not. And Ford swears he’s going to take care of my mother no matter what, and she says he isn’t kidding.
“I don’t know,” I say quietly and push my chair back. Slowly, I take the ring off my finger. “I’m so, so sorry to do this to you again, Matthew.”
He laughs and puts his hand out. “I’m used to it by now.”
“You’re a decent guy. You’ll find someone.”
“My parents have a list a mile long. I’m not too concerned.”
I place the ring in his palm and he puts it in his pocket. “I hope you figure it out, Katherine.”
“I hope the next girl is very fond of you, Matthew.”
He laughs as I hurry away, heart racing, sweat beading down my back. I call for a car and head back to the house, feeling dizzy, feeling crazy. I send a few texts on the way, and I can’t believe I’m doing this, but it feels like something finally clicked inside of me.
Ford’s last words ring in my head.
I’m free.
I don’t have to do this anymore.
I don’t have to give in to whatever Grandfather wants.
I can make my own choices, go my own way. It might be hard—I’ll have to get a real job and struggle like everyone else—but I’d rather work and be free than be rich and stuck in a lovely little cage hated by everyone around me.
I head inside and go straight to Grandfather’s office.
Like always, he’s in there, reading a book in front of the fire. I stand in the doorway and clear my throat. The asshole doesn’t even look over.
“I gave the ring back,” I say loudly and he finally turns. The biography of Napoleon lowers down to his lap.
“You did… what now, Katherine?”
“I’m not going to marry Matthew. I’m not going to marry anyone. Sorry, Grandfather.”
He looks confused at first. Then he looks amused. “If this is a prank—”
“No, this isn’t a joke. I’m going to pack my bags and I’ll be out in the morning.”
“You’re serious?”
“I’m very serious.” I take one step into the room. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to live up to your standards, your impossible standards, and I’ve failed every single time. You’ve done nothing but rub my face in my shortcomings, you turned your back when everyone else in the family bullied me and mocked me and hurt me, and you have the audacity to command me around like I’m a dog. You even use my mother’s addiction against me. But I’m through with it all, Grandfather.”
“Katherine,” he says, his voice low and angry, and he slowly stands. The book slides down onto the floor with a loud thump.
“No, don’t bother. Save your breath. I don’t give a damn if you refuse to let me have my trust. I don’t want your money and I don’t need anything from you anymore. Mom will be fine and I’ll be okay. I’m only stopping in here to tell you that I’m through, that you’re an awful person, and that I deserve better.” I turn to leave but his voice keeps me pinned to the carpet.
“You always were an ungrateful little child,” he says harshly, his voice quivering with rage. “How dare you march in here and act as though I’m the enemy? Your mother ripped my heart out and spit on it a dozen times or more. I’ve done nothing but give you a place in our family, treat you as my own, try to offer you every opportunity—”
“God, just listen to yourself,” I say at him, my voice raising to the point of nearly shouting. “You’re so full of shit, you miserable old bastard.”
His face pales. His eyes go wide. His hands come up to his throat as if I’ve stuck him. “Howdareyou—”
“Goodbye, Grandfather.”
I finally tear myself away. His rage-fueled shouts echo after me, but I’ve tuned him out.
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I don’t care what he has to say anymore. His approval is meaningless; his rage is impotent.
I’m free. For the first time in my life, I’m free.
I’m terrified and I don’t know what I’ll do, but at least I’m free.
Still willing to have me? I text to Tina.
Girl, get your ass over here, I’ve always wanted a roommate.
I grin to myself and start to pack.
Chapter 30
Ford
Three Months Later
Jackie staresat me over a cup of coffee while a cigarette curls smoke up into the air. She drinks, takes a drag, and I have no clue how she manages to do both at the same time without choking.
“You know Ford, I’ve come to a conclusion,” she says and puts down the coffee. She jabs the cigarette at me and crosses her legs. “You want to hear it?”
“I’d love nothing more.”
She gives me a look like I’d better not give her bullshit, but she goes on. “I’m going to make this sobriety thing work this time.”
“I’m willing to bet you’ve said that before.”
She cackles and takes a drag. “You’re not wrong.”
“What’s different this time around?”
She blows smoke into the air. It swirls and fades, and I watch it go. The sun’s bright and warm on my skin and it’s a beautiful day out back. Nearby, Jonathan’s doing his addict yoga, and the Director is leading group in the shade of a huge oak tree, and I have to admit, for a rehab clinic, it’s actually kind of nice here. I’ve been visiting a lot over the last three months and I’ve actually struck up a real friendship with Jackie, and even though I haven’t seen or heard from Kat since the day she came to tell me to leave her alone, I still keep showing up here and talking to her mom.
Kat’s the one topic we never discuss. Whether it’s because Jackie doesn’t want to hurt me, or because Kat asked her not to, it doesn’t matter and I don’t want to know. We talk about everything else except for the one thing I really, really want, and I have to be okay with that.
“I’ll be honest with you, Ford. This time’s different because of you.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Why, little old me?”
“Don’t be fucking cute.”
“I’m never cute.”
“Right, whatever, just listen.” She takes a breath like she’s steeling herself. “It’s always been my family. For as long as I can remember, my father’s been in control of everything. Money, resources, whatever, it always came from Daddy, and when things got bad for me, he could use his influence to push me into doing whatever he wanted. That’s how the cycle always went: I’d fuck up, he’d swoop in and fix things, and I’d end up in rehab for a while. But I neverwantedto get clean.”
“Now you want to,” I say and she tilts her head from side to side.
“Yeah, well, for once I feel like I have a reason.” She takes a long drag and blows more smoke. “But we don’t talk about that, do we?”
I feel a coldness spread into my feet. I sit up straighter and meet her gaze, trying not to let my heart beat out of control. “That’s been our one rule.”
“An unspoken rule. And I’m about to break it.”
My jaw tightens. “Jackie—”
“Katherine talks about you, you know.” She takes a drag. “That’s the messed-up part. We never talk about her, but she always talks about you. I don’t tell her about your visits, but she still manages to mention you at least once every time she’s here.”
I close my eyes. “Don’t.”
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“It’s not over, Ford, is all I’m saying. Look, you’ve been good to me and I think we’re becoming actual friends, and as a friend, I’m telling you that my daughter still cares about you. Hell, I think she loves you.”
“Stop.” Hope blossoms in my chest. Horrible, nasty, god-awful hope.
I thought this would get easier. I thought time would give me space to heal. But the jagged edges of my heart haven’t even begun to knit back together, even after three months of this. I’m still living in that apartment, still existing in the middle of all her stuff. I’m still ex-communicated from my family.
And this is going to kill me.
I don’t think I can take it again.
More failure, more pain.
But god, Katherine is worth it.
“Go talk to her. I know she told you not to, but do it anyway.” She checks her watch. “If you head to the parking lot in a few minutes, you might just get your chance.”
“What did you do?”
“Might’ve scheduled two visits back-to-back.” She takes another drag and grins at me. “Might’ve made sure those two visitors run into each other.”
“Jackie.”
“Katherine wants to see you, Ford. She’s practically dying for it. And I know you haven’t given up on her.”
“I’ve been trying to respect her wishes.”
“Forget about her wishes, she was just hurting.” Jackie leans forward. “Did you know that her grandfather told her to spy on you, too? She refused to do it, but still. She knows what you gave up for her. She understands the hell you went through, turning your back on your family the way you did. Don’t give up on her.”
I stare at the older woman and try to make sense of all this. Months of hearing nothing, months of not talking about Katherine, of talking circles around the topic, of pretending like her daughter doesn’t exist, and now suddenly she’s telling me that Katherine still wants me.
That she stilllovesme.
It’s enough to kill me.
But I don’t think Jackie would be saying all this if it weren’t true.
“When will she be here?” I ask.
“A few minutes.”
“You’re a real monster, you know that?”
“Ah, kid, I’ve been around a long time, I know how these things go and I know my daughter. She’s going to be absolutely miserable until she admits that she still loves you.”
“You really think this is a good idea? After what I did?”
“Let me ask you something. Did you spy? Did you give your family anything?”
“No,” I say.
“Then there you go. You have all the chances in the world and every reason to do it, but you never did.”
“I made up my mind that day. I decided I wanted to be with Katherine and I didn’t care if it meant losing out on my family. I was going to tell her the truth, but Grandfather beat me to it.”
“It’s always the way of things. You have to travel the hardest path sometimes just to make the ending worth it.”
I push my chair back and stand up. “You’re a decent person, Jackie.”
“I’m definitely not. I’ve done some terrible things in my life.”
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“Yeah, maybe, but that’s the disease talking.”
“I hope you’re right.”
I nod to her, turn away, and walk toward the exit.
My palms are sweating. My heart’s racing. I haven’t seen Katherine in so long and the thought of running into her now—it’s enough to make me nervous.
Me, fuckingnervous, like a little kid again.
But even after all this time, I still haven’t forgotten. I still haven’t given up. I’ve only waited patiently and now I’m getting my chance.
It might kill me. Hell, it might finally break what little shred of humanity I have left and send me crawling back to my family.
I don’t care. None of that matters. There’s only Katherine, and she’s my north star now.
I head through the lobby and linger near the doors. I have a good view of the parking lot from my position and I stand there, not moving, until a car pulls in and parks. It’s an old Camry, beat up and rusty, but a girl steps out. A girl with auburn hair. Pale skin. Full figure. A beautiful girl, like sunshine on legs, wearing tight jeans and a loose top, her hair up in a messy bun, looking like she’s been working all day but still absolutely radiant.
Fuck, I haven’t seen her in months, and she still takes my breath away.
I take a second to calm myself as she approaches the sidewalk. I know she can’t see me yet and I take the opportunity to enjoy looking at her before I take this risk.
Then I walk forward, through the doors, and step outside as she approaches.
Her eyes widen when she sees me. I look back at her, head tilted to the side like I vaguely recognize her but can’t quite place her name. She looks like she’s about to panic and starts glancing around as if someone might jump out from behind the bushes.
“Hey,” I say and tilt my chin up. “You look familiar.”
“Uh, Ford—”
“Are you here visiting someone?”
She pauses and crosses her arms protectively over her chest. “My mom.”
“That’s nice. I was just seeing a friend in there. My name’s Ford, by the way.” I hold my hand out.
She stares at it like I sprouted tentacles and started speaking in a foreign language. My hand hangs there between us, breaking the space in half, trying to close the gap but not quite making it. She doesn’t move.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Introducing myself. This is the part where you say your name.”
“Ford. This is weird. You know who I am.”
I keep on staring and, god, she’s beautiful, so fucking beautiful it breaks my heart. “I was thinking, maybe we’ve never met. Maybe you’re the daughter of a friend of mine and we just happen to bump into each other here.”
“Did you know I was coming?” she asks, her eyes narrowing. “I thought I said—”
“No,” I say and keep my hand extended. “Like I said, I was just visiting a friend. If we happened to be scheduled back-to-back, you can blame her for that.”
Kat’s expression softs. “Mom,” she says and bites her lip as she stares at my palm. “You said your name is Ford Arc?”
“That’s right.”
“I hear the Arc family is pretty awful. Lots of assholes.”
“Different Arc family. I’m an orphan now.”
A little smile twitches at her mouth. “Sorry to hear it.”
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“I’m not. What did you say your name was again?”
The moment stretches. She stands there, staring at my hand, and slowly her eyes move up to meet mine. She steps forward and her palm slips into mine, and it’s soft and warm and feels like heaven, like I always imagined she would, and she gives me a firm squeeze.
“Katherine Stockton. Nice to meet you.”
I hold her hand there between us. She smells like lemon and there are little tufts of white dog fur on her clothes. She tilts her head, studying me in return, and she lets a smile break free.
“Would you like to get coffee with me, Katherine?”
“Call me Kat. And maybe, I don’t know—”
“We could go right now. There’s a decent place nearby and I know Jackie wouldn’t mind.”
“Oh, yeah, you think so?”
“Trust me. She practically made this happen.”
She laughs and sighs and shakes her head. “All right, Ford Arc. Let’s go have coffee.”
Finally, I let her hand go. She turns away from the rehab place and falls into step beside me as we move out toward the parking lot. She looks up and the sunlight falls between her hair. She’ssmiling at me like she just found a treasure on the sidewalk, and I’m smiling back because I just found something even better.
“Nice ride,” I say. “You want to drive?”
“Oh, no, don’t tell me you don’t have a car.” She squints at me. “You do have a job, don’t you?”
“I don’t work.”
“Great. A deadbeat. Am I going to pay for the drinks too?”
“Tell you what. I’ll buy the coffee if you promise to stick around for an hour.”
“An hour, huh? You sure you’re not a deadbeat?”
“Promise.”
“All right. You’ve got one hour to impress me, Ford Arc, and that hour’s starting now.”
We climb into her car together. It’s old, it’s stained, but it’s hers, and I’m hers, and that’s enough.
Chapter 31
Kat
Six Months Later
“You may kiss the bride.”
The words I’ve waited for my whole life.
Ford leans down, presses his lips to mine, and I let myself flow against him like water down a steep cliff. We hold there until someone whistles and someone laughs, and the church breaks into applause. I’m blushing bright pink when we pull away, and Ford’s grinning like a lunatic, and we face the audience like a pair of actors bowing at the end of a perfect play.
My mom’s in the front row next to Carmine’s wife, Brice. Mom is the only person from my family that we invited. Sara Lynn reached out to make amends shortly after Ford and I got back together, but I’m not ready to accept her apologies yet, and I’m not sure I ever will be. At least I heard her nose is still slightly crooked from where I broke it, which I’m not too proud to admit brings me immense pleasure.
Meanwhile, Ford’s family is completely absent. The seats are packed with other people: friends, friends of friends, acquaintances, anyone we felt like inviting.
Tina and Melody stand by my side. The Atlas Organization stands with Ford: Carmine, Gareth, Evander, and Lanzo. They’re big and handsome and loud and rich as sin and a whole lot of trouble, but they’re like brothers to Ford, which means I love them too.
The wedding’s a massive party in a beautiful barn an hour north of Dallas. The grounds are incredible and include an actual horse farm, which basically sealed the deal for me. The ceremony flows into the reception which turns into dinner and a party, and I make the rounds with my new husband, thanking everyone for showing up.
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“Well done up there,” Gareth says and kisses my cheek. “It takes a lot of bravery to sayI doto a man like Ford.”
“Easy there, Gareth,” Ford says and hugs me against him protectively. “She’s a married woman now.”
“Lucky her,” he says.
Ford laughs and Evander joins the party, roaring about taking shots and getting drunk and finding something to ride, which is typically veryEvanderof him. Carmine hugs me, Brice hugs me, and even Lanzo says his congrats. Mom’s sitting alone, and she’s been sober since leaving the clinic. Attending a party like this and not drinking is hard for her, but I’m proud of her for making it work.
“You look amazing, sweetie,” Mom says later once the night’s really going. “I’m so happy for you, you know.”
“I guess I have you to thank for this. I never did talk to you about that.”
“Ah, well, I took a shot and, hey, I was right.”
“Could’ve really backfired, you know.”
“Life’s all about risk, sweetie.” Mom hugs me tight. “I’m glad you took this one.”
The night devolves into drinking and partying. Ford barely leaves my side. His eyes are on me all the time like he can’t help himself and it’s intoxicating, his stare, his hands on me while we’re dancing, his lips against mine. Cheers erupt every time we kiss.
“Are you happy?” he asks me halfway through the night.
“Never been happier.”
“Good, because I have one more surprise.” He takes my hand and leads me away from the dance floor and out back. Mom’s standing with a Scavo cousin, both of them smoking. I wave, but we don’t stop. He takes me down a paved path, between two outbuildings and toward the open paddock.
The area’s beautiful. Lots of flat grazing land and a forest butting up against it. I lean against Ford as the moon hangs in the sky and the stars sparkle.
“What’s the surprise?” I ask him. “You’re not about to make out with me, are you?”
“I wasn’t, but that sounds like it would be fun.”
“Ford.”
He squeezes me tight against him. “The surprise is all this.” He gestures at the paddock and the land beyond it.
I frown at him with confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“I was talking to the owner a couple days ago. Apparently, the horse farm side of their business hasn’t been doing all that great, and he’s been looking for some outside investment.”
My eyes widen. “Ford. You didn’t.”
“It wasn’t much and if you’re not interested, it doesn’t have to go any further—but as of right now, you and I are partial owners of this place.”
“Ford.”
“You could come work here if you wanted and maybe we could even poach Melody. You could turn this place around.”
“Ford!”
“Yes?”
“I love you.” I stand on my toes and kiss him. “God, I love you so much.”
“Is this the part where we make out?”
“Don’t be a bastard.”
He kisses me slow and deep. “I love you too,” he whispers and holds me tight against him. “I won’t lose you again.”
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“No, you won’t, not if you keep buying me horse farms. Now we can make out if you’d like.”
I kiss him and hold that kiss for a while, breathing in the smell of the farm, the hay and the grass, the crisp night air,the moonlight, my husband, my Ford. I was skeptical when he introduced himself to me outside of Mom’s rehab clinic, but I wanted a new start with him so desperately I gave in. That coffee date turned into a dinner date and that dinner date turned into breakfast and we haven’t been apart since.
“Kat!” Melody’s voice flows out from the building. “Get back here! We want to dance.”
“I’m being summoned,” I say and lean my forehead against his.
“Better get going then. Don’t want to keep them waiting.”
“This is really ours now? You’re not kidding?”
“Katherine, you’re mine and I’m yours, and I’ll never lie to you.”
“You big bastard. I really do love you.”
“And I really do love you.”
“Come on,” I say, taking his hand, and drag him along. “You’re dancing too.”
“Anything, so long as I get to do it with you.”
“Sappy asshole.”
His smile shines and I feel like I’m sparkling and we’re gathered up by Melody and Tina and Gareth and Evander, and we make our way back into warmth and music and champagne and a family of our choosing.
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