Thirty - One Kholton

“And you’re sure of this how?”

 

 

 

Brian thumps his fist on my bedroom door and pokes his head in. He finds me seated cross-legged on the floor, a chaos of test sheets and stationary scattered around me.

Pencil clenched between my teeth, I glance up at him. “What?”

“You heard the doorbell just now?” he asks. “It was for you. Princess Bentley.”

I remove the pencil and raise a brow at him. “You told her I’m not here?”

“Yeah.”

I go back to grading papers. “Good.”

I don’t hear him move off, and he knows I hate to be disrupted when I’m working. Without looking up, I ask, “Something else?”

“I’m thinking you should see her, man,” he tells me. “She’s not looking too good.”

He’s got my complete attention now. “What do you mean?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs. “She just looks…messed up. She’s either been crying her eyes out a lot or sleep-deprived.”

What? Okay, yeah, I’ve been avoiding her, but Serena’s a woman in every sense of the word. She’s not the type to be bawling or losing sleep over some dude because he’s avoiding her, so as narcissistic as I am, I’m certain this isn’t about me.

“Look, man,” Brian says, “I know the job’s over and you need to cut ties, but I also know she means something to you. At least call her and find out if she’s all right. ‘Cause she sure as shit doesn’t look it.”

He backs out and leaves.

After returning from Philly a week ago, I met with the client and terminated the contract on the basis that the brooch could not be located where it was indicated it would be, and that the job was far riskier than initially agreed upon. All bullshit, of course.

Brian was disappointed with the outcome, but didn’t disagree with my decision. All we need to do now is return the brooch, and Natalie has already agreed to help us take care of that.

So it’s true, I’ve been avoiding Serena. Mostly because I’m a pussy—well, pussy is powerful, strong, and resilient, so not a pussy. A pair of balls is more like it.

I care too much about this girl. Think too much about her. Want too much from her. I don’t particularly like how weak I am with her. That’s some dangerous shit right there, because I’m not even sure I can trust her.

She’s using me for something—other than sex—and I’ve yet to figure out what that is. That tells me she’s done this multiple times before and is damn good at it—whatever it is. And that’s something to be wary of.

Before, I didn’t have a choice because of the job. But now I do. It’s over. The final step in a long con is to go ghost. Brian is moving back to L.A. and I’m going back to my penthouse on the Upper West Side. But since we’ve decided to return the brooch without Serena or her father suspecting a thing, we’re in no rush to disappear.

I’d already ended things with Serena back in L.A., and a few days ago I sent her a request to terminate our contract with a referral to another tutor—which she hasn’t responded to. So all I need to do is keep things…ended. To ignore her until she gives up.

What does it matter to me if she’s been crying? She’s not my woman. She was a job. She—

Oh, screw it. Who am I kidding?

I’m on my feet, test papers flying in the air as I dash out the door. I can’t do it. As much as it irritates and confuse me, I care about this girl. So damn much. 

Hopefully, the traffic is thick and I’m able to catch her.

Brian makes no effort to hide his shit-eating grin when he sees me breezing through the house like my ass is on fire.

I rent open the front door, determined to run as far as I needed to catch up with her. Except I don’t have to. Because she’s sitting on the steps outside my door, head between her legs, arms wrapped around her knees.

“Serena?”

She startles at the sound of my voice and twists around. When she realizes it’s me, she scrambles to her feet as if embarrassed.

Brian was right. Serena Bentley doesn’t look like Serena Bentley.

She’s thrown together in a baggy sweat-suit and her hair has seen better days. Her eyes are dark-circled and red-rimmed. Her make-up-free face is pale and distressed. What the hell?

“Oh, um, hey,” she says weakly, patting the tangled mess piled on top of her head. “I—I thought you weren’t home.”

“You were waiting for me?”

“No.” It’s too quick to be the truth. “I was waiting for my ride.”

“Babe?”

She looks up at me but doesn’t answer.

Why do I feel like I want to slay dragons for this girl? “Come here.”

Casting a glance over her shoulder, she hesitates. “Um, Beau’s going to be here any min—”

“No, he won’t,” I refute. “Come here.”

Her gaze darts around for a minute, before she sucks in a shaky breath, pats her chaotic hair again, and climbs the steps to me.

Holding her sad, conflicted eyes, I say, “I’m gonna put my arms around you. Do you want that?”

Her lips part, then her head jerks in a nod.

Closing the space between us, I wrap my arms around her petite frame. “I’m gonna hold you tight. Do you want that?”

She lets out a single sob, and then nods.

I press her up against me and with everything in me, hug her as tightly as I can. “I’m gonna stand here and hold you for as long as you need me to, okay? Use this moment to be as vulnerable as you want. And we won’t ever have to talk about it again. Not unless you want to.”

And I do as I promise. Sometimes all a person needs when they’re hurting is for someone to hold them. Not to talk. Not your pity. Not your advice or opinion. Just your strength, your presence, a hug.

For fifteen long but precious minutes, she hugs me tight and stains me with her pain. When she’s all cried out, I take her inside and tuck her under my covers. She falls asleep almost instantly.

I don’t know how long I had been sitting there like a creep watching her sleep, when my phone rings and jolts me out of it. I glance down at the screen. Aaron Bentley.

“Mr. Bentley,” I answer.

“Ah, hello, Kholton,” he greets coldly. “How are you?”

“You want to know if your daughter’s here?” 

He chuckles, but it doesn’t mask his worry. “I haven’t seen or heard from her in well over a week. I know she was with Alaric for a little while, but he told me she went AWOL. I figured the only other person she would run to is you.”

Quietly, I get up from the bed and leave the room, closing the door behind me. “I found her on my front steps. She’s asleep now. You can send her driver—”

“No,” he interjects with a touch of sadness. “Keep her with you for a few days, will you?”

Not while I’m trying to get her out of my system, no. “Why?”

A long pause. “Well, there’s been some family matters. She handled it unbelievably well at first—she always tries to be so strong. But I knew it wouldn’t be long before it all sank in.” He sighs heavily down the line. “I know this is a strange request after I insisted you break things off with her, but… she glows when she’s with you. A few days. Please.”

Blowing out a breath, I rub my hand down my face. Having Serena here, even if it’s just “a few days” is the opposite of what I need.

I’ll get sucked in again. She’s a vortex, and I have no bones in my legs when I’m around her to fight against her powerful current. Yet, I care that she’s hurting—and I’ve got a strong idea what’s causing that hurt. How can I turn her away?

“Okay,” I agree.

Aaron expels a breath of relief. “Thanks, son. I’ll pack some of her things and send them up with Beau.”

I brace against the banister. “Okay.”

“Son?”

“Sir?”

“That girl,” his voice is soft but gruff, “she’s my world. Please, take care of her.”

I don’t understand this man. At all. “Back in L.A., I told you the truth. That I’d end up hurting her. So how can you seriously trust me with ‘your world’?”

With complete confidence and not a break in his voice, he replies, “You will never hurt her. You will do the right thing.”

“And you’re sure of this how?”

“Because I know love when I see it,” he says simply. “You took a bullet to save her when you barely even knew her. Imagine what you would do now that you’re in love with her.”

I kill the call faster than I can absorb his words.

My heart explodes in my chest.

Well, fuck.