Chapter 11
WHEN YOUR FAKE FIANCé HAS ANGER MANAGEMENT ISSUES AND A POCKETKNIFE. #REDFLAGSORGREENFLAGS
AXEL
“You complete and utter jackass!” Dakota’s voice sliced through the car for the seventeenth time. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
Like she was the only one having a bad night here.
I kept my eyes on the road, my molars grinding together.
The photos from tonight were probably already online.
The ones that showed a perfect couple having a perfect dinner, perfect smiles for the cameras.
Each staged moment had felt like swallowing glass.
Every time we attempted to look more in love, I’d thought of my mother, who used to play the perfect wife at public functions while, inside, her world was crumbling.
Those weren’t the only photos taken tonight though.
I’d seen the influencers’ phones come out when Dakota’s ex showed up, their eyes lighting up like they’d struck gold.
Perhaps they’d publish images of our altercation with Mathew instead.
The real moments, messy and raw and human.
It would make my soul feel better, but would destroy everything we’d worked for.
“Mathew is none of your business,” she continued, staring out the window now. “Our history is none of your business.”
Dakota Blackwood might look like a collectible doll—petite with those delicate wrists that seemed like they’d snap in a strong breeze—but, Christ, the woman could weaponize words better than the dictionary.
And I was giving her plenty of ammunition tonight.
“He’s a dick.”
“And what does that make you?” she countered.
The man who’s been watching you for years. The man who felt things in my office, in my bathroom while cleaning your wound, and tonight when I kissed you that I never intended to. And was so shocked by it, I did the only thing I could: move safely back into rivals territory.
“You embarrassed me!” Dakota waited while I simply stared out the godforsaken windshield. “Hello? Are you listening to me?”
I wasn’t listening. Not really. I was too busy replaying the image that had burned itself into my retinas: Dakota talking to Mathew like he was her sun. The way she tilted her head, exposing the curve of her neck.
In fairness, I had no idea how much Dakota liked or loved Mathew, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, why did seeing her with him bother me so much? When I spotted them together tonight, why did it feel like a rock slammed into my chest?
I had told myself over the years that the only reason I followed Dakota online was to keep tabs on her. You know, she was Knox’s sister and all that, so it stood to reason I should watch out for her since he was in prison and couldn’t do it himself.
That’s what I kept telling myself when I had seen her and Mathew’s romance play out on social media.
Post by nauseating post. I’d done some digging on Mathew then, and something about him didn’t sit well.
The guy was always too perfect, smiling too wide, walking and talking too smoothly in those videos.
It was like he was doing it all for show or something.
But seeing him today, I wasn’t so sure it was his douchey personality that bothered me. In fact, something different from brotherly protection wound around me like barbed wire.
Something that felt dangerously close to jealousy.
I cycled through excuses like a man desperate for an alibi.
It was probably just this fake relationship messing with my head.
After all, as far as anyone was concerned, Dakota was supposed to be mine.
While we knew it was fake, Mathew didn’t.
Having the nerve to continue talking to her like that, tugging at her heartstrings when she was supposed to be mine …
that had to be what intensified my emotions.
Or maybe the explanation was even more basic.
Dakota Blackwood was stunning. A prize for any man that cared about beauty.
She was gorgeous from head to toe, and she didn’t even need the beautiful hair and makeup or designer outfits to make her look that way.
Back before everything had gone to hell with Knox’s trial, I had seen her plenty of times in sweatpants and a messy bun, no makeup. Perfectly imperfect.
And of course, there was the simplest explanation: the brotherly protector in me had latched on to the fact that Mathew had broken her heart.
How dare he?!
Dakota Blackwood might be infuriating to me, but she was kind and compassionate.
So compassionate, in fact, that she lived in that shithole place because she was helping her parents financially.
That knowledge spread guilt through my system like a disease because I should’ve helped them more through the years.
Should have checked on them as much as I’d checked on Dakota.
But back to the point. How dare Mathew treat her like she was expendable? How dare he leave her? Take her for granted and mistreat her?
What a prick.
When the valet had let me have my keys to find my own car under the veil of walking off my anger, I couldn’t pass up the temptation.
I’d seen his penis mobile parked three spots down.
The blue one I’d seen in his egotistical social media posts, same plates as before he’d abandoned Dakota for temptation overseas.
The responsible adult in me—admittedly a very tiny, malnourished part of my brain—suggested I walk away. The rest of me retrieved my pocketknife from my center console.
The knife slid into the first tire with ease, the sound of it deflating surprisingly satisfying. Psssssht. The sweet sound of inconveniencing the man who’d shattered her. In short order, all four fell victim to my blade because I’m nothing if not thorough in my vindictiveness.
I stood up, dusting off my knees, and pocketed my knife with the satisfaction of a job well done.
Petty? Absolutely. Juvenile? One hundred percent.
But imagining Mathew’s face when he discovered his precious compensation mobile sitting on four flats would be worth whatever karma had in store for me.
It was the least he deserved after how he’d mistreated Dakota.
The irony wasn’t lost on me—what a douchebag I was being to her. Even now, on the car ride home. But this was different. We weren’t really together. I wasn’t the guy she’d opened her heart to, the one she’d trusted with her vulnerability.
I wasn’t supposed to be her safe place. Mathew was.
So, why, when I watched her storm out of my car and into the penthouse’s building, did I want to be?