Page 44 of The Beast

Chapter Fifteen

I come out of the meeting feeling like a prize-fighter who’s taken a zillion punches while playing darts and landing them all dead-center.

In other words, bashed and battered, but triumphant. Not because my dad stepped up, but because I personally assured the Mercers that nothing fishy is going on, and then confidentially told them about Gabe and his plan to become a human tornado to level all of Hart Industries.

That didn’t exactly give them a warm fuzzy feeling, but we’re almost family. Even without the engagement, David and I essentially grew up in each other’s houses. They remember Gabe, and they were shocked by what happened to him—and what he believes about me.

I can’t say they trust my father, but they do trust me. And once Mr. Mercer firmly kicked Daddy Dearest out of the meeting, they agreed that the deal could stay in place, with the caveat that if my father—or Gabe—pushed too hard, they might still have to push back. “We don’t want to,” Mr. Mercer said. “We love you like a daughter, and you know that. But I do not—not—love your father like a brother.”

And that was it. Somehow, I’d bought us more time. And despite the icky feeling that came from the whole situation, I walked out of that room feeling proud. I went in to do battle, and my corporate armor didn’t fail me.

So, yay me!

And yes, I realize negotiating with almost-family is different than deals I’ll be making in the future with foreign hotel magnates, but especially these days, I’m taking my victories where I can find them.

“You were amazing,” David says once we’re back in my suite and I’ve changed out of my suit and am now comfy in leggings and an oversized shirt.

“Yeah, well, you were a great—I don’t even know the word. Wingman? Can you be my wingman when you were technically on your parents’ side?”

“I will always be your wingman,” he says. He comes to sit on the sofa, then pats the space beside him. I settle there, then shift and turn my back to him. Since this is David, he knows exactly what I want, and he puts his hands on my shoulders and starts to rub. Within seconds, I’m moaning and melting in relief and pleasure at the way his strong fingers are working out my kinks.

“Oh, yes,” I whisper. “That is exactly what I needed.”

“Then close your eyes,” he says, his magic fingers working a miracle on my shoulders and my neck. I’m about to slip to the floor and beg a full-on back massage when I feel his breath at my ear, then the soft press of his lips.

I close my eyes—not to melt into this moment, but to draw a bit of courage. “David,” I say. “We can’t.”

“I’m pretty sure our FWB pact says we can. And nobody’s going to come looking for us until after lunch. Besides, we both need some stress relief.”

His voice is soft and teasing and damnably tempting. I close my eyes for a moment, because yes, I do want what he’s offering.

The trouble is, I don’t want it from him.

Well, hell.

I shift around to face him, then take his hands. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I just can’t.”

For a moment, he says nothing, and there’s nothing I can say to fill the gap. I’m about to repeat that I’m sorry when he looks at me hard. “He wants to destroy you.” His voice is flat. Resigned.

“I know.” I lift my chin, finally meeting his eyes directly. “I know he does. And I know this doesn’t make sense. But I just...I can’t.” I swallow. “I can’t believe he really wants to hurt me. And even if he does, I can’t stop loving him.”

I take David’s hands. “I do love you. I always have. But it’s a different kind of love. And I know you feel more, and I know that it hurts, especially now when I’m saying no because of a man who might be the worst thing in the world for me.”

“But the heart wants what it wants.” His voice is dry and a little harsh, but there’s understanding, too.

“Yeah,” I say. “It does.”

For the length of two heartbeats, he just sits there. “Okay,” he says. “I get that.”

We share a sad little smile. “Yeah,” I say, leaning forward to brush a kiss over his cheek. “I know you do.”

I’m afraid this uncomfortable conversation is going to segue into an uncomfortable silence, but I’m literally saved by the bell. Or, rather, the chime of my phone. I grab it up, feeling lighter when I see that it’s from Leo. If anyone can transform Gabe back into the man I used to know, it’s him.

Come to the penthouse.

He doesn’t bother with an address.

“Leo,” I tell David, pointing to the text. “I need to go.” I wait, expecting him to say he’s coming, too. That we’ve been friends our entire lives, and if I’m trying to rescue the love of my life from a barrage of horrible lies about me, then he’s going to be at my side whacking away at the bullshit, too.