Chapter 24

Margot

I paged through the appointment book at the front of the store, ignoring Nat’s chatter, which traveled from our tiny on-site kitchenette, down the hall, and to the front of the shop. She was in there with Ben, talking incessantly about Supernatural or Game of Thrones, or whatever her favorite series was this month.

The two of them got along really well—hopefully, Nat would let Ben make the move before she did. She’d always been a little on the eager side, not that there was anything wrong with taking control of a situation.

No, nothing wrong with that.

I chewed the inside of my cheek.

So, why can’t I do it? Why can’t I take control of the situation?

Because nothing was simple when it came to Cain. He hadn’t come in yet. He usually did at around this time, but after last night’s conversation, he might not.

“Make a decision?” I muttered, and slapped the book shut, then dragged my fingers through my hair and snagged a few knots, grimaced. Gosh, my hair had always been too thick and a little on the unruly side, but this morning I’d barely managed to scrape a brush through it before I’d headed out.

Cain on my mind. This was ridiculous.

A knock rattled the front door, and I jumped, my pulse ticking up instantly.

I looked up, and all the excitement dissolved.

Of course. It was Guy.

He stood in front of the door, gripping that same leather suitcase he’d brought in here a couple weeks ago. The script meeting was today, and a review of how the pilot had been received, or, at least, a pre-review.

I pushed off from the counter and tramped to the door, then let him in.

“Good morning,” he said, and scanned the interior of the reception area. “Am I the first one to come in this morning?”

“No, Ben and Jerry are here, and Nat too.”

He pursed his lips at the mention of Nat’s name. Apparently, she hadn’t made a great impression on him—either because of her flirting with Cain or with him. Who knew? Nat was a force unto herself, and I loved her for it.

“Oh, all right. Well, how are you this morning, Margot? How did you feel about last night’s pilot?”

“I thought it was great,” I said, and promptly went red. Last night reminded me of Cain’s arm around my shoulder, my head resting against his chest, and the tenderness with which he’d carried little sis up to her room.

Steven had never connected with my family. He’d despised visiting them for Sunday lunches or anything else, and he’d never exchanged more than a few words with Jemma-Kate. God, what an idiot I’d been to fall for him.

“Great? Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Actually, it was fantastic. I loved the, uh, the cinematography and the content. The way the producer put it together made everything pop.” Were those the right phrases? I glanced past Guy and his loose-collared shirt, his neatly cut light brown hair, to the front door.

No sign of Cain yet, and I hadn’t turned the CLOSED sign to OPEN yet.

“Good, that’s good,” Guy replied, then placed his hand on my forearm. “Listen, let’s discuss the rest of this in private. In your office?”

I didn’t snatch my arm away but moved it firmly, in a manner that left no room for guesswork. “Yes, of course,” I said and set off for the open door. Guy probably wasn’t interested in me, no matter what Cain thought, but I still wasn’t comfortable with him touching me, friendly or not.

It was always better to keep things strictly professional.

Except with business partners, apparently.

We entered, and images of Cain in front of me, holding me in place on the desk as he pounded into me again and again, leaped out at me.

I gulped and circled the desk, sat down in my executive chair and interlaced my fingers, placed my hands on the desk.

Guy shut the door and lingered behind his chair, holding the briefcase at his side. He stared at me, and a creeping uneasiness trickled down my spine.

“Mr. Simmons? Please, take a seat.”

“Mr. Simmons, pah,” he said, and gave me that executive cheese grin. “I think we’ve passed formalities, Margot. I’m Guy, and you know that.” He finally sat down and placed the suitcase next to his chair.

I let out a tiny breath. Why was I so on edge today? Sheesh, maybe it was all the waiting for Cain to appear with whatever verdict he needed to deliver. “Of course,” I said. “I’m glad you came to talk about the show, Guy. I feel like it’ll do well, but I’m pretty much in the dark on this kind of thing. I mean, what do I know about TV and how things work at the network?” Christ, now I was rambling.

“The initial reaction seems to be really positive—”

I held up a hand and cut him off. “Actually, perhaps we should wait for my business partner. Cain would like to hear this too, I’m sure.”

Guy sniffed, shook his arm until his Rolex slipped to his wrist, then checked the time. “I’d love to tell you I have the time to hang around and wait for him, but I don’t, Margot. I’ve got other people to see. It’s imperative that we keep our meetings brief.”

“Oh, all right. I’ll relay the information to him, then.”

“I think that would be best.” Guy picked up his briefcase, unzipped it, then withdrew that same damn script. He dropped it onto the desk in front of me and gave a curt nod. “We’ve made some minor changes to it, but it’s much the same. We’ve got a main plot and a subplot running through the show, which we think will really resonate with viewers.”

“I thought we weren’t doing a script. The first show seemed to go well without it.”

Guy huffed a breath then smoothed his fingers over the walnut desktop. “Let me break it down for you, Margot. Things went OK. The initial ratings are positive, but I’ll have more information once I get some hard numbers. In all honesty, Ben and Jerry took way too much time filming for one episode. If we had a script, we’d cut costs and potential… hiccups.”

“Hiccups?”

“It’s no secret that your business partner is unstable at the best of times,” Guy said.

I chewed the side of my tongue to keep from snapping at him. He didn’t get what Cain had been through. He didn’t understand a damn thing. But he still had a point. Cain was a loose cannon.

“I want what’s best for you, Margot,” Guy continued, softly, and rose from the seat, then circled around the desk and dropped down beside me. “You can understand why, can’t you?” He placed his hand on my forearm again, a firmer grip.

Oh god. Oh, this was a shitty situation. “I understand that you’re being highly unprofessional, right now, and that you should take your hand off my arm. Now.”

Guy sighed and released me. “I’m sorry, Margot, I just find it difficult working with you, seeing how you react to what’s going on here. I want to help you. You seem like you’re struggling under the weight of so much. I haven’t seen you smile in a long time, not since our first meeting.”

My skin crawled. No doubt, he meant this in a nice way, but it made me super uncomfortable. This was not OK. Why couldn’t he act like a normal human being? Why? If I were Cain, he wouldn’t make me feel like this, probably because Cain would knock him the fuck out.

I balled up a fist. “Please, go sit back down, Mr. Simmons.”

Guy’s expression darkened. “I’m trying to be helpful.”

“I understand that, but you’re also encroaching on my space, and that’s not helpful at all.”

He lifted his hand and brushed the backs of his fingers down my cheek, lower, to my neck.

I froze up, disgust cruising through every cell in my body. I shoved my chair back and got up, stumbled back a step. “It’s time for you to leave,” I said. “Leave the script here with me. But leave the office.” How would I work with him after this? God, I’d have to, wouldn’t I? I’d have to suck it up and do this if I wanted the business to succeed.

I tasted bile in the back of my throat. This wasn’t OK. This wasn’t OK. The sentence kept repeating in my mind over and over again, but there was nothing I could do.

“You need me, Margot,” Guy said, and he rose too. He moved toward me, arms outstretched, patting the air as if I were a wild animal to be tamed. “You need the show. It would be seriously unwise of you to do anything that could jeopardize Get Ink’d’s future with SBC.”

“Is that a threat?” Of course it was.

“No, of course not. All I’m saying is that things work a certain way in this business, especially for people like you.”

“Women, you mean?” I flushed hot with anger this time, balled up my fists.

“I guess you could put it that way. I’m a powerful man, Margot. I’ve made and broken shows at whim.” He was too close. He grabbed my arms, moved toward me, his face, his lips, his disgusting cheesiness eclipsing everything in my office.

I was paralyzed with fear. Kick him. Fucking punch him. Do something! Stop panicking!

The office door crashed inward. “Motherfucker! I’ll fucking kill you.” Cain’s voice penetrated the horror of the moment.

Guy’s face jerked backward, away from me. His hands clawed free of my arms.

Cain dragged him from me, kicking, spun him around and gripped the front of his collared shirt, drew back a fist.

My jaw dropped. I couldn’t move a muscle once again.

The scene unfolded in front of me, almost in slow motion.

Cain drew back his fist, lips curling back in a rictus. Guy’s eyes widened, and he paled, tried raising his arms to cover himself. My mouth was dry, no words came, and what would I say? “Stop”?

Cain’s fist whipped forward and a sickening crack-crunch split the air.

Guy yelled and covered his face. Cain aimed for the stomach next, and the Current Executive crumpled forward and gripped his stomach instead. Another fist, another. Punch in the stomach, the side.

Guy fell to the floor, groaning, and Cain drew back his foot.

“No!” I managed. “Cain, stop. Stop! Don’t do this.”

He stalled mid-kick and looked over me, so much rage in his expression it sent cold terror spiraling through my middle. I didn’t recognize him. That wasn’t my petty frenemy from high school. He wasn’t my infatuation. He wasn’t the man who’d made me orgasm.

The person in front of me was a beast, his knuckles cracked and dripping blood. “Stop? He tried to— Fuck, I won’t stop. I said I’ll kill him, and I’ll fucking do it.”

“You can’t,” I said, and ran forward, latched onto his arm and tugged on it. “I won’t let you.”

He searched my face, eyes flicking back and forth in his skull, as scumbag Guy groaned on the floor. Cain’s anger hadn’t faded. “He touched you.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Cain trembled beneath my touch, his entire body rippling as if his skin would rip and the beast would appear in full. He wrenched his arm from my grip, and turned on Guy.

“Stop,” I said, feebly. “Cain, just go outside, OK? I’ll call the cops. You go wait outside.”

“The cops?”

“He’s hurt, this is— It’s a disaster.”

The man who’d defended me lifted his gaze to mine, betrayal spilling from him. “If that’s what you want,” he said, then turned and left.

Guy lifted his head and squinted at me, through eyes that had already started puffing over. “It’s over, Margot. I hope you fucking know that. I’m going to have your partner put away for years.”