Chapter 35 Lex
Lex
Pretty sure I fucked up.
I’m not sure if there’s any coming back from this as I watch the neon heat glowing on her cheeks, in her eyes, infusing every limb.
Stevie whirls around the moment the door shuts behind me. “You. Asshole .”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, realizing I need to pull words from my brain. Words that make sense. Words that need to be said out loud and not hidden behind a cell phone screen. “I wasn’t trying to—”
“You weren’t trying to do anything. You just sat there while your mother tore me to absolute shreds.”
“I’ve had to deal with that my whole life. I’ve learned to block her out. Shut down. That’s how I cope.”
“How you cope?” She’s beet red and fuming. “Well, in the real world—outside your bubble of privilege and superiority—the rest of us cope by telling people like that to fuck off.”
My eyebrows hike up. I’ve never seen her so pissed off, so rageful. She’s shaking from head to toe, tears trailing down her cheeks in inky streaks. “You don’t understand.”
A maniacal laugh. “Of course. It was made very clear tonight that I don’t understand this way of life.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I tent my hands under my chin like a prayer, taking a cautious step forward. “You don’t understand what my upbringing was like. That’s how my mother is, how she’ll always be. You learn to accept it and react accordingly.”
Stevie’s eyes flare with a new wave of anger, disbelief. “That’s your excuse? That we’re all supposed to just accept the damaging repercussions of her actions and words because you’ve learned to live with it?”
I take another step closer, desperate to bridge the growing chasm between us. “It’s not an excuse. It’s the reality I’ve lived with. Speaking my mind would have only made it worse for you, Stevie—I promise you that. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“Intention doesn’t matter, not when the impact is devastating. That’s what matters. My heart. My dignity.” She slams a finger to her chest, her voice trembling, cracking. “I uprooted my life for you, for this ridiculous charade—”
“I’m paying you to be here.”
“I don’t care about the money!” Her arms lift skyward, along with her voice. “Take it all back. Burn it. It doesn’t matter. I’ve lived my whole life without it. What I wanted was respect—a chance to prove myself.” She swallows, lowering her arms at her sides. “Chase my dreams.”
Dreams.
I wish she could see her dreams through my eyes.
My thoughts are blackened, my soul rotted through.
But that’s not what she sees. She sees the blue in my eyes, the flash of teeth when my lips curl up with a lie.
She sees my so-called dreams playing out in vivid color, while all I see is a gray wash over everything I thought I wanted and everything she craves.
It’s a smoke screen. My best role yet.
And I latch on to the facade because it’s the only thing I’m good at.
Acting.
“Your dreams are going to ruin you,” I rasp out, my own anger heightening. Anger at myself for allowing her to step into this world on my watch. “Look at you. You’re already unraveling. Coming apart at the seams.”
Her face twists. “Don’t.”
“My mother was right about one thing. Sometimes the roles we’re born into are the ones meant for us.”
A tear slides down her cheek, dangling at her jaw. “And I’m just riding your coattails?”
“Yeah.” My eyes glaze over, throat tightening. “That’s exactly what you’re doing.”
I brace myself for the slap. The strike across my cheek, hot and punishing.
I deserve it. I’m ready for it . Give it to me .
My eyes close, my heart pounding with anticipation, every muscle locking up…
But the hit never comes.
When I open my eyes, Stevie is staring at me, her eyes filled with despair, her shoulders slumped with defeat.
And the image is so much worse.
Breathing a fiery exhale out through my nose, I take a step closer, desperate to drive her away from this cesspit. From my mother—from me . From all the things that will steal her magic. “You don’t belong here, Nicks. Never have, never will.”
“Maverick might disagree.” Her chest heaves with every backbreaking breath. “Or maybe Julian West. I should give him a call.”
My blood runs cold.
What the fuck?
Before I can respond, she’s spinning around and stalking off into the piano room, like the instrument is calling to her, a piece of home. A sweet, familiar treasure.
The opposite of me.
I follow her, every muscle tensing to cement. “Call him then. Or I can save you the trouble and tell you exactly what’s going to happen.”
She stops in front of the piano, her back to me.
No response.
“He’ll have you come into his office for a meeting,” I continue, closing in on her from behind.
“He’ll butter you up, say some pretty words, tell you how talented you are, how he’s never seen anyone like you before.
You’re unique. A rare find.” Volatile veins of heat funnel through me as I push the words out.
“You’ll be starry-eyed, your head in the clouds, calling everyone you know, thinking you’ve just hit the fucking jackpot.
Then he’ll call you back for an audition.
Assure you you’ve got the part, no doubt in his mind. ”
She remains silent, her whole body vibrating before me.
“And you’ll be so fucking proud of yourself, Stevie. Crying buckets of happy tears. You’ll be on top of the goddamn world.”
I reach for her wrist, spinning her around to face me.
Her eyes are hooded, dark.
“Maybe he’ll invite you to a party or a dinner for two.
He’ll whisper sweet things into your ear, harmless compliments.
Your beautiful eyes, your smile, your soft hair.
” I flick a strand of her hair. “Then he’ll touch you.
Subtly at first, just a hand to your hip, a finger grazing down your arm.
” I trail my index finger along her bare upper arm, watching her skin come alive with goose bumps.
“The physical contact will escalate, and you won’t see it coming.
A kiss to your cheek, your neck. A lingering peck on the lips.
” Leaning in, I brush my lips to her cheekbone, featherlight.
“Next thing you know, you’ll be underneath him—naked, confused, too scared to say no. And the real kicker?”
Her eyes are slammed shut, tears flowing through clenched lids.
Bending lower, I whisper against her ear, “You don’t even get the damn part.”
I watch her throat roll with a hard swallow before her eyes shoot back open.
She swivels away from me, but I pull her back. “If that sounds like a good time, by all means, give him a call.”
“Let me go.”
Frowning, I quickly release her. Her balance teeters in her heels, and she stumbles back against the piano, a jumble of chords breaching the air.
We stare at each other.
Stevie shakes her head, still pressed against the keys, her lips parted, wobbling. “If you’re trying to drive me away, all you need to do is say it. Break up with me. I’ll pack my bags.”
My teeth grind together.
She’s right—I should let her go, send her away. A clean break. That’s what’s best for her. I know that. I feel it in my goddamn bones.
But I can’t get the words out.
“You’re not ready to let me go yet, are you? We still have more lies to weave, more people to manipulate. The story isn’t finished.” Her chest contracts, eyes glossing with more tears. “Just when I think you…” She falters, looks away. “Just when I think…”
“What?” I murmur.
“Just when I think you care ,” she spits out. “Just when I convince myself there’s a good man hiding behind the shell. Someone who sees me. Someone who—”
“I do see you. I do care.”
“If you really cared, you never would have let your mother speak to me that way. It’s unforgivable.”
“I already told you, that only would have made it worse. She would’ve made things a thousand times harder for you, Stevie. You don’t know her like I do. That’s how I—”
“Cope. Right.” She huffs a joyless laugh, swipes hair out of her eyes. “I comforted you when you were coming apart, breaking down in front of hundreds of people. I was there , Lex. I held your hand. I let you…” She swallows. “I let you kiss me.”
Guilts saws through me, a searing jolt to my veins. A wicked, awful feeling.
When I needed her, she was there. No hesitation, no questions asked.
And when she needed me…
Where the fuck was I?
Lost.
Checked out.
Doing what I always do.
Doing what my mother trained me to do.
Stevie lifts her eyes to me, searching, devastated. “That wasn’t real though, was it? That kiss?”
My vocal cords strain, struggling for a voice. “That was real.”
“It wasn’t.”
“I wanted to kiss you.” I take a step toward her.
“Stop.”
“I still want to kiss you.”
“You want to use me!” She lifts off the piano, face crumbling.
Before I know what’s happening, I watch as she yanks her black dress over her head and tosses it at my feet.
My mouth dries. My heart flounders.
I can’t prevent the dip of my eyes as my gaze lands on her full breasts spilling out over the cups of her turquoise bra. Porcelain skin, soft curves, matching lacy underwear hardly covering her lower body. The image shoots lightning bolts of arousal straight to my cock.
I force my attention back to her face.
I’m stunned.
Frozen in place.