“Good,” she practically coos, like she’s talking me off the ledge, and maybe she is. “But if you want me to tell you that you’re right to avoid this or that none of it translates to howserious Maddox must be about you, I can’t. I know it’s hard for you to choose happiness if you think it robs someone else of it. But things with your mom and sisters have been rocky for so long. You deserve to have someone take care of you and lose their mind over you.”
“It’s not that simple,” I counter because it’s so much more convoluted than the rift this causes with my family, which is enough by itself. But he’s the penthouse, and I’m the employee. And my life is in his hands. It’s a power imbalance.
“Maybe not,” she concedes. “But I understand that too. Still, Ryker might be the only one currently attached, but I’m willing to bet that all the Noire men are like him. Giant redwood trees. Sexy, sturdy, and hard to knock down, but when someone finally strikes them just right, they fall in a catastrophic way.”
“I’ve gotta go,” is my only response. I hang up when I hear Maddox’s voice outside the door.
And as I ruminate on Mercy’s final sentiment, all I can wonder is what it means that, while I know anything more than tonight is a terrible idea for countless reasons, part of me is desperate to be flattened by Maddox Noire falling.
MADDOX
Moseying onto the rooftop terrace with doughnuts in my hand, I shake off the turmoil weighing on my shoulders, kick the French door shut behind me, turn on the Jacuzzi, and saunter toward Tessa.
She’s a vision. Hair fanned across the back of the chaise lounge. Shapely legs bent in a seductive pose. Dressed in my T-shirt and nothing else. It covers up her phenomenal curves, those purple gemstones adorning her tits, and the delicate ink that decorates her sternum, hip, ribs, and spine—sleek, ornamental fine-line designs in inconspicuous places. She hides them from the world, and just like the treasure of her laughter, something inside me roars to life because I have those pieces of her.
Her head snaps up from her phone when she hears me, and a sigh flees from her. “Thank God. My mouth is watering.” She raises a palm and rolls her Caribbean blues. “Do not make a sex joke. That was too easy.”
“Agreed.” I flash her a smile before I set the box down on the small table near her chair and grab us a couple of drinks from the bar. “Easy isn’t really our thing.”
Even though my brothers know we’re here, the illusion of secrecy and the night sky keep us in an intimate bubble. Not that I’ve ever done any of this. I’m thirty-two, and other than my sister, no woman has ever worn my clothes or been in my room. I’ve certainly never had anyone introduce me to their family. I suppose that is still technically true, but I met them all the same.
She huffs, part humor, part annoyance. “That’s an understatement.”
I’m guessing the family meet-and-greet is responsible for the annoyance. That was certainly not easy.
She uncurls her shimmery legs, and my heart trips over itself. Her silver strands are aglow by the vibrant city lights, framing her doll-like face. A halo on my little Nightmare. Her facial piercings glint against her pale skin, her makeup gone from the shower. She seems so innocent here, less guarded. It mollifies some of my anxiety. I didn’t hold back when I was inside her, and I meant every word.
Maybe I’ve known on some level that she was mine for a long time, but it was so foreign to me that I couldn’t make sense of it. Until I saw her sprinting toward me this morning. The urgency I felt to claim her, the electricity of my mouth on hers, her request to come home with me—it’s messy, but it all stacks up to be a tower of reasons that she’s all I want.
She opens the box and plucks out a hazelnut crunch. “Tell me you have a story that isn’t terrifying for that wall of knives in your room, so I don’t feel like I’m the stupid girl in a thriller, ignoring the blatant serial-killer signs.”
She was quiet before she fell asleep, so I let her guide the conversation, choosing to be comfortable with her silence. It’s the most obvious difference between us. Quiet makes menervous, hence the freak-out in the group chat with my brothers. I think, for Tessa, it feels safe. So, it’s a positive sign that she’s the one asking the question.
After I set our drinks on the table, I plop down on the lounger beside her, breaking off a chunk of a blueberry glazed doughnut as she bites into hers. “It seems risky to bring up the wall of weaponry, don’t you think? Now that you’ve noticed, you’ve backed me into a corner.”
She shrugs her shoulder. “At least I’ll see it coming.”
We might be joking, but that sums her up. She doesn’t cower. She rams into everything head-on with more bravery and poise—and albeit irritation—than anyone I’ve ever known.
“It is a bit like a thriller story,” I tell her, lying back, feet crossed and my arm behind my head. “You’re sure you can handle it?”
“I’m sure.” She chortles as she sips her fruity cocktail, which is damn near close to a giggle from my usually sardonic girl. “And if not, won’t it be fun to finally stun me?”
Chewing the bite of doughnut, I nod because everything is more fun with her, but I’m not sure this qualifies. “One of the performers here gave me a balisong trainer when I was a kid. It’s the same weight as a butterfly knife, but dull, so you can practice the skill. It might’ve been a pity gift because dear ol’ Dad was supposed to spend the day with me, but was indisposed, fucking some woman.”
I repress the resentment that still seeps in sometimes. “I worked really hard to learn the combinations, sensing the tilt and understanding the clacks and rattles. Might’ve been out of spite at first, to prove to myself that my dad blowing me off was to my benefit, but it became more. It was my version of a Rubik’s Cube. A puzzle to solve.”
A heavy breath stutters out of me as I stare at the city, garnering the strength to continue. “A few nights before myparents died when I was fourteen, I found my mom listening to Barry Manilow and crying. The music choice was a dead giveaway that things were dire, but I knew she wouldn’t explain, so I pretended I hadn’t noticed. Instead, I showed her what I’d been working on with the balisong trainer. She perked up. So excited. Proud, I think. She kept saying it made music. Then she asked me to do it all again and recorded it.”
My chest constricts, and even I note the hollowness to my recap. “I still had it in my pocket when I watched our house go up in flames.”
A singing knife.
“You saw the house burn?” Tessa’s voice quavers. It’s a reminder that I’ve never shared that story with anyone.
“Yeah.” I swallow, reach for my cocktail, and take a swill to re-center myself. “Axel and Ryker had us at our lake house. My mom was supposed to be meeting us there. It was late. We were flipping channels and caught it on the news. As soon as the reporter mentioned two bodies, I tried to explain it away, to convince myself and my younger siblings that it was my father and someone he was having an affair with. He was a cheating bastard. Not that I wanted him dead, but … it was nothing compared to the thought of my mom in there. Still, I knew in my gut that she was gone.”
“God, Maddox.” She grips her chest and drops her doughnut back in the box.
