Chapter Twenty-Two #3
There’s a glint in Peyton’s eyes that I don’t like.
It’s diabolical; I’ve seen it before, and it always ends up causing more trouble than anything else.
I open my mouth to tell her exactly that.
That I don’t like the look in her eyes and that she really needs to reconsider, but she speaks first: “I don’t know yet but I’m going to figure it out. ”
“Peyton—”
She squeezes my shoulders. “For now, just follow my lead. I’m going to find a way.”
“But—”
“Do you trust me?”
I look into eyes as blue as mine, and even though I have a very bad feeling about this, I know nothing I say will deter her.
If history is any indication, I know that already.
I have countless stories about her reckless behavior, and while as I said, the stakes are much, much higher here, there’s no way that past events will be an incentive for her to stop.
I don’t know what will make her stop, but I know arguing right now is not the solution.
So I say, taking a deep breath, “Yes.”
Peyton looks at me for a second. “I’ve taught you well because I almost believed you.”
“I—”
“It’s fine. I’ll prove it. You’ll see.”
Before I can say anything else, she springs up from the bed and skips to the door.
She pounds on it with her fist as she calls out, “Hello? Anyone out there, especially, you evil, criminal Graysons who are keeping us here against our will? We’re done braiding our hair and plotting your murder. Get in here so we can talk.”
She spins around, raises her eyebrows, and winks at me before skipping back to the bed, looking extremely proud. Despite myself, I can’t help but chuckle, and I’m just about done shaking my head at her when the door to the room opens and in comes a voice.
“If you’re serious about killin’ us, can I ask to go last? I wanna see how you take this big guy down. My money’s on you talkin’ him off a cliff.”
It’s Axton, and by “big guy,” he means the pretty cowboy whose name we still don’t know. They both walk in at the same time. Or rather, the nameless cowboy walks in first, looking slightly aggravated while Axton is right behind him, clapping his hand on his shoulder and chuckling.
While Axton makes himself comfortable in one of the armchairs in front of the bed, the big guy shoots Axton a look before making a beeline for the farthest corner where he settles against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. For some reason I think that’s what he always does, looks for corners and nooks and crannies that he can use to disappear.
But I don’t think he’s the kind of man who can go unnoticed.
Especially by Peyton, who’s glaring at him from beside me.
The thud of the door shutting brings me out of my useless thoughts, alerting me that he’s here. The air in the room changes, thickens and becomes heavy. Probably with his scent of musk and leather.
I watch his long strides, taking him across the room where he finds a wall to stand against too.
But not like the big guy. He doesn’t hide or want to disappear.
He wants to command the room, be the center of attention without being in the center.
He wants eyes to follow him wherever he goes as he shifts it, the gravity.
At least he shifted mine, because now I don’t know how to keep sitting here with him in front of me without collapsing on myself.
I don’t know how to look away from him even when he hasn’t spared me a single glance.
His eyes are on his target, the object he’s going to use for his revenge. My best friend.
“I hear I’m your wife,” Peyton goes, leaning back and propping herself on her arms.
I tighten my muscles in anticipation of his answer. I even look away and wring my hands in my lap, waiting for him to say the words that I know are going to feel like a blow, no matter how crazy or unwarranted it is.
But it never comes because he replies, “No, you’re not.”
And I jerk my eyes up to him. Even though he’s still not looking at me, I can’t help but wonder if he read my thoughts. If he somehow knew how insanely I was hanging on to his answer.
“If this is your way of proposing,” Peyton drawls. “Then I don’t even want to see the ring.”
“Good,” he clips, shifting on his feet and folding his arms across his chest. “Because there ain’t one.”
Sitting up straight, Peyton narrows her eyes at him. “You’re kind of an asshole, you know that?”
His features remain blank as he murmurs, “That’s the general consensus, yes.”
She looks at him for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and asking, “So? Why do you want to marry me? What the hell is going on?”
“Because I want your land.”
Peyton watches him with narrowed eyes. “My land?”
“Yeah.”
“How does marrying me get you the land?”
“Because half of it belongs to you now,” he says, his eyes dark and alert. “According to the Turner will, it automatically became yours when you turned eighteen. But the power of attorney is still your brother. Meaning, you can’t make any major decisions about the land without his signature.”
“What? That’s bullshit.”
He shifts on his feet. “Well, until you get married. Then, the power of attorney gets transferred to your husband.”
Beside me, Peyton’s spine snaps straight. “What kind of sexist crap is that? Do they think I can’t take care of their stupid land? Why, because I’m a girl?”
“Yeah, well, you’re gonna have to take that up with your father.” His chest moves up and down with a large breath. “The point is, the man you’re married to controls half your family’s land. In this case, me.”
“So, what, you just want me to roll over and hand you my share of the land?”
“Well, it already belongs to me so you’re a little late with your protests. And I don’t just want your share of the land; I want all of your land.”
Peyton scoffs. “Right? Because my family is just going to give it to you.”
“If they know what’s good for them, they will.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means”—he shifts on his feet again—“your family business is goin’ under. Your daddy ran it to the ground and your brother’s been tryin’ to revive it. But even he knows, he can’t. You’re drownin’ in debt and if something doesn’t happen soon, you’re all going down.”
“Oh, I see,” Peyton says, raising her eyebrows.
“You’re going to swoop in and save it. Buy the other half and give us the money.
Is that your plan?” Before he can respond, Peyton leans forward to say, “My family will die before selling our land. They will die twice before selling it to a Grayson. So good luck with that.”
Arsen watches Peyton for a second before murmuring, “You’re not as dumb as I thought you’d be.” Peyton gasps beside me as he keeps going: “But you’re forgetting somethin’. I don’t wanna buy your land. I just wanna control it. Especially now.”
“Why now?”
“Because there’s oil in it.”
“Oil?”
“Yeah. The thing that’s gonna solve all our problems. Your brother’s meetin’ up with an oil-drilling company in three weeks.
If the deal goes through, they’ll break ground, dig oil wells all over your land and you’ll be swimmin’ in money for generations.
” He pauses before stating, “Unfortunately for him, I control half of that land he wants to drill on.”
“You’re going to stop the deal,” Peyton breathes out in realization.
He nods his head. “If they don’t agree to my demand.”
“And your demand is gaining control of the entire land.”
With his eyes flashing, he declares, “You’re right.
Turners will never sell their land to Graysons.
But the thing is, your land already belongs to us.
Always has, always will. But we’re not heartless.
We’ll let you keep your business. We’ll even let you keep the percentage of the profits from the oil that you so kindly found for us.
The point is that we could all be swimming in money. All your brother has to do is agree.”
“So ultimately,” Peyton bites out, “this is about money.”
He tips his hat up with his finger. “You know it.”
“What a cliché.”
“Cliché for a reason.”
Peyton is outraged; I can feel it. I want to calm her down, but I’m dealing with my own rage. I can feel my pulse pounding in my temple. I can feel it in my face, in every part of my body. Because I know he’s not telling the whole truth. I somehow know he’s hiding something.
Isn’t he?
I know he doesn’t care about the money. There’s no way this is about money. He has an agenda. Which means he’s still lying. Even after he promised he wouldn’t. He made a vow, our wedding vow.
Here’s the proof then.
That everything that happened in the woods was a lie. Just like those letters were, and I… I don’t know how to deal with that. I don’t know how to deal with the fact that he doesn’t have the decency to acknowledge my presence. To look me in the eyes as he lies about his grand plan of vengeance.
“And you’re doing this for revenge,” Peyton concludes from beside me, and I have to really focus to be able to hear her.
“Yes. Eight years ago, your family started somethin’ and I’m going to end it.”
“Am I allowed to ask exactly what happened that led you to almost kill my father eight years ago?”
At this, I have to look up. Somewhere during this whole conversation, I averted my eyes and started staring down at my lap.
I stared at my fisted fingers, my jutting-out knuckles.
I stared at my jean-covered knees, my borrowed boots, anywhere but at him, because if I did, he’d probably know the effect he’s having on me.
He’d probably see that I’m still affected by what he does when he’s so totally unaffected by me.
But I can’t not look at him right now. I can’t pretend that this isn’t what I wanted, this isn’t what I’ve been waiting for. To find out why. What happened to his Annie.
His features are set in stone, and even though the brim of his hat’s up, his eyes still seem hidden in the shadows, mysterious and dark as he replies in a low tone, “No. Because you don’t get that story.”
I wince. Not outwardly but on the inside.
My insides clench, my belly and my chest. Even my fisted fingers flex and my nails almost break the skin with how tight I’m curling them into my palms. But I’m proud to say that he doesn’t notice.
He wouldn’t anyway because he’s still staring at Peyton, and even though I’m sitting right next to her, I’m almost convinced he doesn’t even know I’m here.
Which, in this case, is fine, really, because his no somehow felt personal.
After this, I straighten my spine and try to focus on things that matter.
Such as the fact that Peyton agrees to their scheme.
She agrees to go along with it and act married because she doesn’t really care about the land or the feud either.
If Arsen wants to end it all, she’s not going to stand in his way. Or at least that’s what she tells them.
I know she’s lying.
Ax and the pretty cowboy interject at certain points as well, but the gist of it all remains the same: Peyton and I will cooperate.
He pushes off the wall and unfolds his arms. He brings the brim of the hat low as if he’s about to step into the Montana sun, hiding his eyes from view as he concludes, “You go along with my plan and help me get the land and in three weeks, you and your friend can go free.”