Chapter 22

22

Knox

What. The. Fuck? How dare she imply that she's going to fuck someone else?

I cannot allow that. I will not allow her to do that. I stalk after her. I will not let her be with anyone else, only... she's not mine to stop... I come to a stop. I track her as she walks off the floor and curl my fingers into fists at my side. I want to go after her and tell her this isn't over, not by a long shot.

Only. I made sure it is. I effectively killed any feelings she had for me... Which is what I wanted, right? Then why do I feel like crap? Like I burned my bridges. Like I'm making a big mistake. You're doing this to protect her from you, remember?

My chest tightens. My guts twist themselves up in knots. I have a sneaking suspicion this cockeyed plan to announce my intention to marry someone else so I can protect my heart and stop myself from wanting my assistant is doomed to fail. I'm an idiot.

No matter how many barriers I throw up between us, no matter how much I know it's going to make me vulnerable to be with her, no matter how much I tell myself that I'm wrong for her and that she's too fragile for my preferences, that she deserves better; when I see her with another man, all that reasoning disappears.

I watch as she reaches the edge of the floor and is joined by her friend Zoey. The two of them speak, then Zoey scowls at me. They turn and march toward the exit. It's only because she has company that I let her leave. Else I'd have insisted my chauffeur drop her home... But apparently, she doesn't need me for that either. Fucking hell. I'm not the kind to indulge in self-pity...but... This occasion warrants my getting drunk, at least.

I stalk over to the bar to join my brother. The bartender begins to pour me a drink, but I grab the bottle of whiskey from him and proceed to chug it down.

"Something got your panties in a twist, ol' chap?" Tyler asks in a mild tone.

I stay silent.

"Does it have anything to do with your assistant flouncing off the dance floor in a right strop," he murmurs.

I draw in a sharp breath but opt to stay silent. Around me, the music rises to a crescendo. The bass feels like it's slicing into my chest and cutting into my heart. A heaviness grips my being. It feels like I'm carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. Tyler signals to the bartender for a drink, then leans his elbows against the bar.

"I understand how you're feeling."

"You have no idea," I say through gritted teeth.

He sighs. "You're your own worst enemy, you know that?"

Tell me something I don't know.

"If you have feelings for her?—"

"I don't."

"If you do... Then why don't you tell her about it?"

I throw back more of the whiskey, then wipe the back of my hand across my mouth before I turn to him. "Getting me to do your dirty work?"

"What do you mean?" He scowls.

"If you have feelings for Priscilla, why don't you man up and tell her about it, huh?"

His jaw hardens.

"You think if I pursue things with my assistant, it'll result in my breaking things off with Priscilla? If so, you're wrong. I have every intention of going through with marrying her. And you're going to have to watch as the love of your life becomes someone else's wife."

His eyes flash.

"No, actually, as she becomes your brother's wife. Imagine as she walks down the aisle to marry me."

His nostrils flare.

"Imagine watching her at family gatherings with her hand in mine." I goad him because, in some way, I can also imagine my assistant in Priscilla's place, marrying someone else and being with someone else, and fuck, if that doesn't turn me into a mass of rage. "Imagine as she looks me in the eyes as I?—"

He grabs hold of my collar and raises his other fist, when, "Whoa, whoa, hold on you guys." Brody reaches us, his chest rising and falling. "You do not want to get into a fight. I guarantee, it'll be all over the tabloids, and that's not going to help any of us." He pants like he saw us from a distance and came over to break us apart.

Tyler makes a low noise in his throat, then releases me. "Next time, I won't let you off." He snatches his glass, tosses back the liquor, then drops a few notes on the bar counter before stalking in the direction of the exit.

I draw in a sharp breath and reach for my bottle of whiskey, only to find it empty. "Get me another," I snap at the bartender, then turn to glare at Brody, as if daring him to tell me I'm drinking too much.

He shrugs and gestures to the bartender for a drink of his own.

I snatch up the next bottle of whiskey, twist off the top and chug from it. The alcohol burns a trail down to my stomach, but it does little to soothe the anger in my chest. Anger at myself. Anger at hurting her. Anger at how I turned on my brother. Fuck.

"You need to think this through, man." Brody takes a sip of his drink. "What you're doing, agreeing to Arthur's machinations, is not going to help any of us."

"I am not letting him manipulate me."

Brody barks out a laugh. "You're kidding, right? You do realize, this is going to result in a complete breakdown of your relationship with Tyler."

I stare at the wall of bottles in front of me. Of course, I'm aware. "It's his fault, for not being clear about his feelings for Priscilla. "

"And you're complicating the issue by agreeing to marry her. And you're doing it, despite the fact that you want someone else."

I squeeze my fingers around the bottle.

"You know, I'm right. You need to do something to put this right, before it's too late."

My phone vibrates in my pocket. My heart stutters. Maybe it's her? I pull it out, hoping to see her name, but it's Priscilla. Turns out, I've missed a few calls from her, and this is her...third message. I ignore it and slip it back into the pocket of my slacks.

"And shouldn't you be on your way home with your latest one-night stand?" I don't aim for my voice to come out bitter, but it does.

He shrugs. "Sure, I could, but I'm not ashamed of my feelings, man. I'm not going to stop myself from caring about you and that blockhead Tyler, too. I'm here to make sure you get home safely tonight. You two may have decided to become each other's worst enemies; doesn't mean I have to follow suit. You two are my brothers, and I do worry about the both of you. And I'm not afraid to admit it, either."

Heat flushes my neck. The fact that he's so upfront with his feelings shuts me up. In fact, it strengthens this sense of self-loathing that's been growing since I spotted the hurt on her face. But I was right in doing it. I was right in making her hate me. This is the right thing to do. She'll keep her distance from me now. Only... It's not giving me the sense of gratification I hoped for.

"When I see her with another man, my mind goes into a tailspin." I shake my head. "It's as if my brain goes into meltdown, and I can't think properly. None of it is her fault. It's mine. I need to figure out a way to get back in control."

I look up to find him staring at me.

"What?"

"I have to admit, it's not so bad seeing you lose that iron grip you keep on your emotions. Although, I'd prefer it if you didn't take it out on Tyler."

"Yeah"—I take another sip of my whiskey— "it's a bloody mess."

He drains his glass and asks for another drink. "You can say that again."

We continue to drink in silence until the bar empties out and it's only the two of us left. When I can't stomach drinking further, he escorts me to my car. I vaguely remember telling him he's a good brother and him laughing it off. I must fall asleep in the car, for the next thing I know, I'm in the elevator. I reach the penthouse, then stagger into my apartment and to my bed... Only now, I can't sleep.

Every time I shut my eyes, I see her face, her lips, the hurt look in her eyes, the way they turn golden when she's aroused. Her sweet voice begging me to let her come. Her sassiness when she tries to get a rise out of me in the office. Her scent. How her soft skin feels under my fingers. How I want her naked and pliant and pleading to be spanked. Despite being drunk, I have a hard-on; that's the hold she has on me.

I'm so aroused, my cock has turned into the kind of sensitive organ where every brush of the sheet against it threatens to have me come like a teenager. Finally, I give in and jerk myself off. Not once, not twice, but thrice. By the time the first light of dawn creeps into my bedroom, my balls are throbbing, and my dick is sore.

And when the phone lights up with her name, I snatch it up. "What?"

"This is your wakeup call, asshole."