I wasn’t listening. Not really. I was too busy replaying the image that had burned itself into my retinas: Dakota talking to Mathew like he was her sun. The way she tilted her head, exposing the curve of her neck.
In fairness, I had no idea how much Dakota liked or loved Mathew, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, why did seeing her with him bother me so much? When I spotted them together tonight, why did it feel like a rock slammed into my chest?
I had told myself over the years that the only reason I followed Dakota online was to keep tabs on her. You know, she was Knox’s sister and all that, so it stood to reason I should watch out for her since he was in prison and couldn’t do it himself.
That’s what I kept telling myself when I had seen her and Mathew’s romance play out on social media. Post by nauseating post. I’d done some digging on Mathew then, and somethingabout him didn’t sit well. The guy was always too perfect, smiling too wide, walking and talking too smoothly in those videos. It was like he was doing it all for show or something.
But seeing him today, I wasn’t so sure it was his douchey personality that bothered me. In fact, something different from brotherly protection wound around me like barbed wire.
Something that felt dangerously close to jealousy.
I cycled through excuses like a man desperate for an alibi. It was probably just this fake relationship messing with my head. After all, as far as anyone was concerned, Dakota was supposed to be mine. While we knew it was fake, Mathew didn’t. Having the nerve to continue talking to her like that, tugging at her heartstrings when she was supposed to be mine … that had to be what intensified my emotions.
Or maybe the explanation was even more basic. Dakota Blackwood was stunning. A prize for any man that cared about beauty. She was gorgeous from head to toe, and she didn’t even need the beautiful hair and makeup or designer outfits to make her look that way. Back before everything had gone to hell with Knox’s trial, I had seen her plenty of times in sweatpants and a messy bun, no makeup. Perfectly imperfect.
And of course, there was the simplest explanation: the brotherly protector in me had latched on to the fact that Mathew had broken her heart.
How dare he?!
Dakota Blackwood might be infuriating to me, but she was kind and compassionate. So compassionate, in fact, that she lived in that shithole place because she was helping her parents financially. That knowledge spread guilt through my system like a disease because I should’ve helped them more through the years. Should have checked on them as much as I’d checked on Dakota.
But back to the point. How dare Mathew treat her like she was expendable? How dare he leave her? Take her for granted and mistreat her?
What a prick.
When the valet had let me have my keys to find my own car under the veil of walking off my anger, I couldn’t pass up the temptation. I’d seen his penis mobile parked three spots down. The blue one I’d seen in his egotistical social media posts, same plates as before he’d abandoned Dakota for temptation overseas.
The responsible adult in me—admittedly a very tiny, malnourished part of my brain—suggested I walk away. The rest of me retrieved my pocketknife from my center console.
The knife slid into the first tire with ease, the sound of it deflating surprisingly satisfying.Psssssht.The sweet sound of inconveniencing the man who’d shattered her. In short order,all four fell victim to my blade because I’m nothing if not thorough in my vindictiveness.
I stood up, dusting off my knees, and pocketed my knife with the satisfaction of a job well done. Petty? Absolutely. Juvenile? One hundred percent. But imagining Mathew’s face when he discovered his precious compensation mobile sitting on four flats would be worth whatever karma had in store for me. It was the least he deserved after how he’d mistreated Dakota.
The irony wasn’t lost on me—what a douchebag I was being to her. Even now, on the car ride home. But this was different. We weren’t really together. I wasn’t the guy she’d opened her heart to, the one she’d trusted with her vulnerability.
I wasn’t supposed to be her safe place. Mathew was.
So, why, when I watched her storm out of my car and into the penthouse’s building, did I want to be?
12
WHEN YOU THREATEN HIM WITH A GOOD TIME AND HE SMIRKS LIKE THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT HE WANTED. #SOYOUSTARTPLOTTING
DAKOTA
“Hey. We need to talk,” Rebecca said the millisecond I walked through the door.
“I’m sorry, Rebecca, now’s not a good time,” I said, managing to keep my voice soft.
Look, was I confused about my feelings for Mathew? Yes. Obviously. Where I’d expected a volcano of love and warmth was an empty, echoing chamber. But A) that was probably just shock. And B) Even if it wasn’t—even if my feelings for Mathew had shriveled up and died somewhere between his leaving and today—Axel didn’t know that. For all he knew, I was seconds away from throwing myself into Mathew’s arms. For all he knew, this was my one shot at fixing the love of my life, at mending something that had torn me apart for months.
He’d stolen that choice from me.
This—whatever this arrangement was between us—didn’t give him the right to play puppet master with my life. I would never insert myself between him and anyone.
But apparently, he thought he owned me now. Thought he could just … what? Make my choices for me?
Axel, who had always been an ass to me. ALWAYS. This wasn’t just about that post’s photo disaster. His animosity predated any of that, and I had officially reached my limit.
