8. Phoenix
Chapter 8
Phoenix
I stare at her for a beat, then laugh.
Her back straightens at the noise. “I am not kidding, Phoenix. I am not going to have sex with you. Ever.”
I shake my head and tsk . “Careful with those absolutes.”
She huffs but stays quiet.
I use that moment and lean forward to minimize the space between us she very clearly wanted. “But trust me, no matter how hot you are, unwilling women aren’t my thing. Neither are backstabbing and vindictive ones, in case you were wondering.”
She flinches and averts her gaze. Good.
Picking up a piece of bacon from the plate, I pop it into my mouth and chew, watching her every move.
My gaze focuses on how she gnaws on her plump bottom lip and how her right hand taps on her leg. It’s rhythmic and oddly fascinating. A little birdie told me she hasn’t played piano since her sister died, which makes me wonder if her fingers have a mind of their own, and she’s not even aware of it. Although, it’s a shame she doesn’t play anymore. She’s an amazing musician and absolutely mesmerizing to watch.
Stop.
Fuck. It’s only day one, and I already can’t keep my eyes off her or have my thoughts veer in directions they have no business going.
Just because I haven’t had pussy in years doesn’t mean I should look at her as anything other than a means to an end.
That’s all she is.
A means to get my revenge and cause her demise.
“Phoenix.” She lets out a long, tired sigh. “We both know you don’t really want to marry me, so can we stop with this charade?”
When I stay quiet, she sighs again. “Why are you doing this?”
I shrug. “I have my reasons.”
“What reasons could you possibly have? Don’t you see how insane this is?” She gets out of her chair and walks across the room, just to pace back again.
I watch her like a predator, not wanting to miss a single move she makes.
She stops several feet away and puts her hands on her hips. “Do you really want to be stuck in an arranged marriage for the rest of your life? I know you hate how your parents treat their marriage like a business transaction.”
“You want me to call off the engagement?”
She throws her hands up. “Oh my God, yes. Of course I do.”
“Beg me.”
Her eyebrows pinch together. “What?”
“I said, beg me.” I pronounce each word slowly. “Get on your knees right now and beg me to call off the engagement.”
She snorts. “Don’t be an ass. That’s ridiculous.”
I push out of the chair and stalk toward her with unhurried steps. At some point, she takes a step back for each one I advance.
Am I getting too close, my little traitor?
“I said, get on your knees.”
She lifts her chin. “No.”
An image of her on her knees doing other things fills my head, and I grind my teeth. This old attraction to her only fuels the anger inside me. It bubbles hotter and hotter until my vision turns red. “It’s the least you could do after what you did. You should want to get on your knees and beg me for forgiveness.”
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. Damn it. So much for keeping my secret for a while longer.
Don’t let her get under your skin.
Easier said than done.
Her gaze darts around, glancing everywhere but at me. “What?”
“Come on. Stupid doesn’t suit you.” I stop a few feet in front of her when she bumps into the wall. I bend down, trying to catch her gaze, but she’s staring at her feet. “I know what you did.”
She swallows loudly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The blood in my veins boils, and I close the distance between us, grab her chin, and tilt it up. Forcing her to look at me.
My body hums in triumph when her gaze is back on me .
All the fight has left her eyes, the flash of fear not leaving room for anything else.
For over three years, the question of why she stabbed me in the back has been plaguing my every thought. Day in and day out. Distracting me during the day. Keeping me up at night. I want to know how she could betray me like this. I deserve to know. She’s going to tell me why, and then she’s going to beg me for forgiveness.
Yet, she remains quiet, simply staring at me, and part of my control slips.
I slam my other hand on the wall next to her and half-growl. “Tell me why you did it.”
Our fronts touch, and that dark hole inside me takes sick pleasure in feeling her rapid chest movements against mine.
Still, nothing. I want to shake the words out of her. I want to turn her inside out and let every last depraved thought of hers leak out.
I need something from her.
Something that will make me feel less out of control.
I need to know why she did it.
Make her.
My hands move on their own accord, fueled by my vicious thoughts. One moment, my hand is on her chin, and the next, I’m pressing her against the wall with my hand around her throat. “Tell me why you called the cops on me.”
Realization kicks in, and she stares at me with wide eyes.
To anyone else, it might seem like she isn’t affected by my revelation, considering she’s still frozen in place, not even trying to fight back.
But I know better.
Her pulse just turned even more erratic under my fingertips, which tells me exactly how rattled she is. And I’m so close I see every popped blood vessel that frames her dilated pupils. Would her eyes bulge even more if I squeezed just a little tighter? Would her face morph into an even darker shade of red?
It would be so easy too. Just a bit more pressure.
I thought I wanted her to suffer for a long time, just like I did during my prison sentence, but I also didn’t expect her presence to screw with me so much. Every time I see her, the imaginary knife digs deeper in my flesh.
Maybe it would make it better if I knew why. If I could understand.
I tighten my hand a fraction around the soft skin of her throat. “Tell me, and I’ll let you go.”
Again, no reply.
To make matters worse, she closes her eyes. Shutting me out.
It’s almost like the hope from earlier, to still get out of this arrangement and away from me, has vanished, and now there’s nothing left for her.
A loud bang pulls me out of my murderous haze as the door swings open, and Holden waltzes inside the room.
He winks at me. “Hey, boss.”
I let go of Evangeline, who folds over with her hands on her knees and gulps in big lungfuls of air.
“Spencer, please.” My mother’s words are barely audible, but I hear them just fine through the small gap in the closet door.
“Do not ever disobey me again.” My father lets go of her throat, and she crumples to the floor.
He walks out without another look back at her, and I stumble out of my hiding spot to make sure she’s okay. The moment she notices me, she curls even more into herself, leaving me to stare at her back. She doesn’t want me right now; she never does.
I stare at my hands. What the fuck did I just do?
You’re becoming the person you never wanted to be.
Holden claps me on the shoulder and pushes me toward the open door. He keeps his hand on me as he utters something to Evangeline that I can’t make out.
The urge to hit something, someone, is even worse than before. The red cloud in my vision is too much to break through, and I need an outlet.
Once we’re in the hallway, Holden grabs me by the neck. Hard.
“Bro, eyes on me.”
I comply and tilt my head back.
“Do you want me to send someone else to campus with her so we can spar?”
Sparring is what kept both of us sane in prison. It was also a great way to stay in shape and to let the other inmates know not to fuck with us.
I shake my head at his question, at least as much as possible, with how he still holds my neck tightly. “Only you.”
That’s all I get out, but he nods.
“Are you gonna be okay until I’m back later?” The corner of his mouth tilts up. “I don’t want to miss out on a surprise killing spree if I can avoid it.”
I huff out a half-grunt and push him away. “Dickhead.”
“Just saying.” He shrugs and steps back. “You know I’d hate to miss a good bloodbath.”
I rub a hand over my face. “I’m fine.”
“Okay.”
I drop my hand and stare at him. “Thank you.”
“No worries.” His big shoulders rise. “That’s what I’m here for.”
“And because I pay you a shit ton of money.”
He chuckles. “Of course you do. You’d be fucked without me.”
This time, a chuckle escapes my mouth because he isn’t wrong. While there’s a large staff working on the estate, I’m not close with any of them. Huxley is probably the one I’m friendliest with, but I’ve also known him my entire life. He used to work for my grandparents and was in charge of the estate after my grandfather passed away and while I was gone. There are a few other employees left from before, but most of the staff are new and vetted by Holden and his security team. Other than that, I don’t have anyone in my life. Not anymore.
Holden nods in the direction of the hallway behind me. “It’s probably better for you to be gone when she comes out. We don’t want to have another incident.”
I stare daggers at the wall, but I know he’s right. I hate that I snapped, and keeping some distance between us is better for now. At least until I can control my anger better around her.
Lifting my hand to my forehead, I give him a small salute and walk away.
Away from the person who ruined my life.
With every step I take, the urge to spin around and go back to her grows.
I should be running away, but instead, I wish I could undo what I did to study her more.
She’s like a puzzle I need to solve, but the pieces don’t fit together, no matter which way I try.
An enigma that still keeps me occupied during the day and up at night.
When it comes to Evangeline, nothing makes sense.
Of course, there’s a chance I’m wrong, and she really is a conniving bitch who deserves everything coming her way, but I feel this inexplicable need to find out everything there is to know about what happened.
For the next few hours, I lose myself in work. Reading the reports my dad sent me about new and upcoming acquisitions and mergers. Even though he doesn’t want me officially back at work until my public image is better, he still wants me to know everything about what’s going on.
After an hour, I’m bored to death and switch over to my Foxhole Foundation files. There are several documents from our accountant for the IRS and the state that need signing. I also want to delve into other charities to analyze their business models in more depth.
Holden asked me a few days ago if I wanted my focus to be supporting other charities and institutions that are already helping teens, or if I wanted to take it a step farther and also create my own safe place for teenagers to fall back on when they don’t have anywhere else to go. It would transform the project into something much bigger than I had initially intended for it to be, but there was something in Holden’s gaze when he suggested it that I haven’t been able to shake.
It would require more planning, more staff, and a lot more money, but that’s where the sponsors will come in. A task Evangeline will help me with, even though she doesn’t know it yet. It would certainly boost my public image even more .
We even thought of a name already: The Fox Hideout.
Kids deserve to have a safe place. A refuge. Although my dad is an asshole, and my family has never been warm and fuzzy, I at least never had to worry about going hungry or having a secure place to sleep.
My phone buzzes on the table, and I lean over the screen to read it.
There are two text messages from Holden. One from a few hours ago, and then the one that just came in.
Holden
Shit. School is boring. I don’t know how the princess does it. She’s like a damn robot.
Holden
Did you know she does volunteer work a few times a week after school? That wasn’t on the schedule. How did that slip through?
Me
Seriously? I think the private investigator we fired gave us that schedule.
The three dots at the bottom appear and disappear.
Holden
I still think he faked his license. No one can be that stupid.
I think back to the day we found the PI sleeping in his car while he was on the job for us, and Holden hammered on the guy’s car window. He got so scared he stumbled out of the driver’s door with a wet stain on his pants.
Such a dumbass.
My phone pings with an incoming picture message.
Holden
I’m not sure I get paid handsomely enough for this, boss.
I laugh the second the image of Holden loads. His hair is tucked underneath a hair net, and he frowns at the camera.
Me
Where the fuck are you?
Holden
Women’s shelter.
I lower the phone to the desk.
A women’s shelter?
That’s where Evangeline volunteers?
I can’t remember seeing any mention of that online when I did an in-depth internet search of her either. And I mean in-depth, with a fine-tooth comb. How is that possible?
Opening my browser on the phone, I type in Evangeline Caldwell women’s shelter . A few entries appear regarding donations from her family, but nothing beyond that.
Another thing that doesn’t add up.
Me
See if you can get any info out of her about it. I’ll talk to her about her schedule when you get back.
Holden
Sounds good. We’ll be back in a couple of hours.
Me
You can come home now. This wasn’t part of the plan .
I stretch my head left and right until my neck makes a satisfying crack , trying to push the growing irritation away.
Unexpected events always get my blood boiling.
The only reason I could stay sane in prison and actually manage to get my university degree was because of the strict routine they implemented. My mind thrives on that. Give me a spontaneous and impulsive schedule, and my mind switches to a bloodthirsty hound in point-five seconds.
I flex my right hand, waiting for Holden to finish typing.
Holden
Nah. We may as well stay, seeing as we’re already here.
Another message pops up before I have time to respond.
Holden
I’ll find you when we’re home. If you haven’t yet, get your workout in before you lose the last bit of your muscle mass.
Me
middle finger emoji
We both know my muscles aren’t small by any means, and he’s the biggest reason for it. I’m not nearly as bulky as his fridge-sized frame, but I’m undoubtedly in the best shape ever.
But he isn’t wrong. A workout is exactly what I need to mellow out before they get back. I have a feeling I need to be as calm as possible around Evangeline so I don’t accidentally kill her.
She still has to pay her dues before then.
And there’s a whole list of them.