BREAKING: LOCAL WOMAN DISCOVERS HER NEMESIS ENJOYS MAKING HER BLOOD BOIL, AND SHE’S … KIND OF INTO IT? #PLOTTWISTALERT
DAKOTA
Moving day.
No two words had ever sounded more ominous. I could practically see Axel Pierce twirling an invisible mustache, savoring my impending misery like a fine wine. Living with him? I’d rather sleep on a bed of nails. No. Scratch that. I’d rather sleep on a bed of nails in a room full of screaming toddlers while someone played bagpipes directly into my ear.
Last night, I’d hunched over my laptop until three in the morning, the blue light burning my retinas as I desperately searched for a way out of this PR nightmare. My fingers had flown across the keyboard like they were trying to escape my hands as I researched every scandal from the past decade, hunting for an alternative solution. I’d even started drafting a public apology before remembering Rebecca’s warning she’d given us before she left: “Many times, an apology becomes a bigger scandal than the original event.”
The irony wasn’t lost on me. One accidental post, a single vindictive moment of weakness, and now I was being sentencedto live with the very man I’d been avoiding for years. The universe was definitely lounging on a cosmic couch right now, watching me flounder with a giant bowl of buttered popcorn and a smirk.
After my night of research yielded nothing but bloodshot eyes, I’d moved to the next phase of what had to be grief: acceptance. I could do this. I had to. Besides, how bad could living with Axel Pierce actually be?
Don’t answer that, brain.
If Axel and I could form a truce, things might go smoother. Yesterday, he’d rejected my apology with the emotional warmth of an iceberg, but I couldn’t blame him.
Could I?Could I?????
No. I was the one that got us into this mess. The least I could do was be nice to him, so the next time I saw him, I was going to approach him with another heartfelt apology, this one sincere and not rushed. I’d promise to do whatever it took to make this right. Surely, he’d accept that.
We’d both had a night to digest this impossible situation, so today, calmer heads would prevail and all that. Maybe he’d accept a temporary ceasefire, at least until we got ourselves out of this mess.
The alternative—continuing our yearslong tradition of verbal throat-slashing—would make the next … however long even more unbearable.
My doorbell rang, the cheerful ding-dong sounding more like a funeral dirge:dun, dun, dun!!!!
I took a deep breath, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my oversized sweater.You’ve got this, Dakota.
And it would help, having Scarlett here with me today. She and I’d become best work friends at my old marketing job and stayed close friends since. I’d called and asked her to help withsome boxes, and she’d graciously agreed. Maybe she’d have insights about Axel.
While I hadn’t spent much time with him in years, Scarlett had started dating Jace, Knox and Axel’s friend, so perhaps she’d spent more time with him. Perhaps she might have picked up something useful. Some magical idea that would get Axel Pierce to stop being so pissed at me.
I swung open the door and physically recoiled.
“Thought you could use the hands,” Scarlett explained, gesturing toward the unexpected crowd behind her.
A lot of people stood in the hallway outside my apartment. My brother’s four friends, the ones who’d been there the night of his arrest: Blake, with his arm wrapped possessively around his fiancée, Tessa; Jace, his hand placed at the small of Scarlett’s back; Ryker, my brother’s criminal attorney, working on his parole hearings; a woman I’d never seen before; and, because the universe clearly wasn’t done tormenting me, Axel Pierce.
His blue gaze hit me like a slap, sending heat racing through my body. Not just heat, but electricity. The kind that made every nerve ending stand at attention. God, why did he have to look at me like that? Like he was cataloging every detail, filing it away for later examination.
Damn him for being so criminally gorgeous. Those ridiculous muscles pushed against his Henley like they had somewhere important to be, decorated with tattoos that I absolutely had not spent way too much time fantasizing about years ago. Dark hair, smoldering eyes that should come with a warning label, and stubble that probably violated several public decency laws. When he walked into a room, every woman’s brain short-circuited. Including mine, unfortunately.
“This is Faith,” Scarlett said, motioning toward the unfamiliar woman, “Blake’s sister. Faith, this is Dakota.”
The woman offered a forced smile. Something about her screamed wounded bird, though whether from shyness or deeper pain, I couldn’t tell. But I recognized that look. The careful wariness of someone who’d been hurt before and wasn’t eager for a repeat performance.
“Come in,” I said, stepping back and opening the door wider. The group flowed into my small home like water breaching a dam while the heat of Axel glided over my skin as he passed. “I appreciate you all helping, but truly, I don’t have enough to warrant this many people.”
“It’ll go faster this way,” Axel said curtly. But there was something in his tone, a roughness that suggested he wasn’t as unaffected as he pretended to be.
His gaze swept around my living room, taking in the peeling paint, the water stains on the ceiling, the ancient carpet worn thin in high-traffic areas. He let out a low whistle. “Wow. Your place is?—”
“Cosmetically challenged but affordable,” I finished, narrowing my eyes to slits.
“That’s one way to put it.” His mouth quirked.
My spine straightened. Sure, the walls had seen better days, the countertops were stained, the cabinets were dinged and dented, and the linoleum floor was curling up at the edges like it was trying to escape, but pointing it out was just plain rude.
