Chapter 18
chapter eighteen
Kai
Denali's been in my house before dawn for a little over a week now.
Between the four days of back and forth with police, giving them all I could remember, answering questions, being made out to be the perp instead of the man who was drugged, and the way legal asks me if I know how bad I've made it for myself if they have to press charges, I feel like it was my fault, that I've done something wrong.
But there the whole time to remind me it's not, is Denali.
Every time someone suggests I caused this, she snaps to action, reminding them that I'm a victim, that I was damn near assaulted, that I'm the one they're paid to protect, not the perp.
She's adamantly defending me, like a guard dog, and it makes me feel seen and protected in a way I haven't felt in a long time.
It also makes me a little horny every time she takes it toe to toe with a cop, because there's always the chance they could arrest her for standing up for me. For stepping in where she's not wanted. At least by them, that is.
It doesn't seem to bother her in the least. She's fierce in all the best ways, and she comes to my aid like no one else I've ever known.
Last night's performance was grueling, but I'm through it now. It went off without a hitch, and I even managed to go home feeling like I'd gone above and beyond, that I'd improved as an idol, that I was back to pre-hiatus levels of skill.
The girl I brought home with me is long gone, having rolled out of my bed fifteen minutes ago to gather her clothes.
Probably to snoop, too, but there's nothing she'll find in my house that'll give her any sort of ammunition.
I live a simple life and all my secrets are carefully locked up where she'll never get to them.
Let her snoop. As long as she's gone when I get out of my bed.
I lay there for a whole half of an hour, trying to find sleep, but it never comes. The only thing I can mange to do is stare at the ceiling and wish that I had someone to talk to. That I had a friend who could explain to me why last night went so sideways so fast.
I'm still hot and sticky and sore from tonight's performance, and from the sex I had with the girl from after—if you can even call it that.
I needed something to do to unwind, and Denali insisted I just carry on as usual while she's around, so I'm trying my best, but no matter what I did, it still didn't feel right.
I ended up letting her blow me until I'd had enough and took care of myself the rest of the way, finishing her off with my fingers while my head was a mile away.
Or, rather, a neighborhood away.
Denali's the only reason I brought the girl home.
She sat in the front row of the staff section during the performance, with the rest of the audience this time, and I watched her let a man flirt with her the whole performance.
His hands fell on her shoulders, her arms, even her lap at one point.
Still, she didn't rebuff him, so she must've been enjoying herself.
I don't know why the thought of another man's hands on her felt so wrong, tore me up so badly inside, but I've done stupider things for nothing.
If Denali wants to enjoy the company of another man, she's allowed to. She's not mine, and I'm not hers. I can enjoy myself, too.
So I brought home the girl who'd been my show-provided stylist last night. She's a rehire, someone I've already worked with several times, and a woman who's been in my bed before now. As far as hookups go, she couldn't have been safer.
We left early, leaving Roger with Denali—who insisted she wanted to stay late into the afterparty, considering we didn't have anything on the schedule the next day—so that Anton could escort me home.
Reese, my date for the evening, signed the NDA and happily bounced herself into my car, texting away as we drove back to my place.
But no matter how much she wriggled on my lap in the backseat, getting hard wasn't in the cards.
That should have been my first red flag, but I acted like a colorblind bull and danced right past it. The second red flag of the night was when she came into my house, spotted Denali's spare shoes against the wall by the door, and instantly acted like a priss about it.
"Whose shoes are those?"
I laughed it off, told her my cousin is visiting from out of the country, and she won't bother us—a lie, but what does she need to know about my business?—and then led her to the bedroom, which she'd been in before.
It took me far longer than I'd like to admit to get it up for a pretty lady like Reese. Red flag number three. But I couldn't admit defeat. There was no reason at all why I couldn't have a little fun—
But every time Reese climbed atop me, I went soft. She gave it a good try, sucking me off three separate times to get me going again, but none of it worked. In the end, I just went down on her, brought her to completion, and rolled off of her, claiming I was tired, that I'd had too much to drink.
She knew the way things worked here. She'd better be gone before I woke up the next morning.
Apparently, something happened to prevent her timely and expected departure, though, because I can quite clearly hear her in the next room, her annoyingly nasal voice echoing off the walls in my living room.
And then a second, familiar voice joins the fray, and I shoot out of bed knowing full well that what I did last night has come back to bite me in the ass.
When I find my pants, I don't bother with a shirt, or briefs, instead just barely managing not to zip myself up in my fly as I scurry out into the foyer, where Denali stands in her usual business attire, looking as sharp and put together as always, her arms crossed over her chest as she stares Reese down.
Reese, who looks like she's trying to play lady of the manor, simply because I brought her back to my place one more time than I promised myself I would.
Who had to sign an NDA just to get in my home.
Who won't ever be coming back. Or working with me again, for that matter.
"Don't you know it's not professional to slink into your boss's house at dawn while he's with a guest? Is that how they run things in your company? I can't understand why he'd keep you around with an attitude like that."
"Well it always baffles me that he keeps you ladies around, too, but here we are.
Shouldn't you be on your way out the door?
" She says the word like it's meant to be an insult, and I assume the other girl knows what it really means, because she huffs in annoyance at the comment.
"The rules in the paperwork specifically states out by dawn.
And last I checked, the sun should start rising in the sky any minute now.
Do you not know how to read the NDA I know you signed last night?
Or are you hoping Kai will get up and ask you to hang around?
I've got a news flash for you—he's not the breakfast and kissy face type of guy. "
Denali knows how to hit where it hurts, and apparently, she's in a fighting mood. Unfortunately for her, so is Reese. The other woman screeches at her and lunges, but Denali's too quick, and steps out of the way as she lets the other girl's momentum carry her straight to the floor.
"You bitch!"
"You're the idiot who tripped," she says smoothly, walking around the kitchen to put space between her and Reese. "You're causing a scene. You'd better leave before you wake Kai, or else you're not going to like what happens next."
"Who the hell are you to tell me what's going to happen? You don't know what he's like with me—"
"I have news for you, sweetie," Denali's voice is laced with ice and bitterness as she steps up to Reese, staring her down even though she's a few inches shorter than the other woman without her heels on.
"You're not special. You are one more girl in a sea of women I've watched do the walk of shame from his apartment before breakfast. The only one of us here with staying power is me, not you.
He's not the kind of man to keep a fling around.
So if you had your heart set on making him fall for you, thinking you're special to him because you've been in his bed, I have news for you.
" Her finger extends out and lands square in the center of Reese's chest. "He'll never love you. He can't."
I don't like how my heart hurts when she says the words a sea of women, nor do I like the way it sounds like she's disgusted with me when she says it.
She's the one who told me not to change my routine for her benefit.
It was her who said she had no problem seeing my one night stands out for me in the morning, while she made coffee and prepped my shit for the day. I'm not the one who—
"You know what, it's not worth it," Reese spits finally, snarling as she storms toward the door. "I don't want a man who can't keep it hard for me and moans another woman's name in his sleep while he rubs himself against the sheets."
"Excuse me, I what now?"
I don't mean for the words to slip out; they just do. And suddenly, both women now know I'm here, and that I've been listening to the whole conversation.
"You," Reese says with a sneer, pointing her finger at me now as Denali watches on in amusement, brow quirked and arms crossed as she watches the drama unfold, "moaned another girl's name in your sleep.
You humped the fucking sheets while you said it over and over, got harder thinking about her than you did all night for me with my lips around your—mmmf! "
I slap my hand over her mouth and propel her toward the door, hoping she's already gathered her things.
"I think it's time for you to go. Remember your copy of the NDA, should you think about repeating anything that happened here to the media.
" I'm done with her. I don't hump my bed in my sleep.
That's preposterous. I'm a man, not some animal, or a horny teenager.
Reese isn't done with me, though. And with Denali hot on our heels, there's no avoiding what happens next.
"Who is she, Kai? Who the fuck is the woman you dream about, and what's so special about her?"
"None of your goddamned business; goodbye, Reese.
Lose my number." I slam the door in her face, and I can hear Anton stepping in on the other side as I rest my palm against the door and sigh heavily.
"I'm sorry you had to deal with that this morning," I say over my shoulder, turning around to face Denali—
—who is laughing at me. Like, not just a little giggle and a smirk. No, she's full-on bent over a the waist, hands on her knees, wheezing with the struggle to stop the laughter that pours from her lips.
"Oh, so does my love life amuse you now?" I storm past her, hating that I'm already so on edge about something as stupid as this. I just—I don't like the way she looks at me like she's having the time of her life with this whole situation. Like she's enjoying my suffering. Like it's a joke.
"No, no," she wheezes, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "Not that at all. I just—okay, just a little, but like, Kai, listen, it's not—it's not you—she just—her face when you shoved her out the door and told her to lose your number—I can't breathe—"
For one split second, I take her claim seriously, not realizing that it's a turn of phrase. I'm at her side in a heartbeat, ready to perform CPR if she's truly suffering, but no, she's just laughing too hard to catch her breath.
I roll my eyes and head over to the coffee machine, which for the first time all week, isn't even started yet.
"You didn't make coffee?" I know I sound like a petulant child, but like, this is half her job in the morning.
And I know that I just want her here for my own selfish reasons, but she does have a job, and I thought she'd managed to do it, since it's not much I'm asking her for.
Show up. Make coffee. Prep the schedule.
Pick at my choice in clothes, occasionally.
And water my plants, which I never remember to do.
Not hard tasks, nothing that takes an exorbitant amount of time, either.
Which she did none of today. If she was on time, she's been here long enough to be finished with it all, even before Reese left my room and encountered her. I'd look at my watch, but I'm not wearing it, and my phone is in my room.
"No, I didn't," she hedges, her laughter slowing as she groans and puts her hands on the counter, leaning up with a wince.
"I was too busy being yelled at by your one night stand, Kai.
" Her lips curl down in a look of pure distaste.
"Which isn't in my contract, by the way.
If they're going to be aggressive and volatile like that, I want hazard pay.
" She makes a point of straightening her dress as she examines the countertop like it's the most interesting thing on the planet.
"I'm only here this early because I was going to see if you wanted to get wasted with me. "
It's then, and only then, that I realize she's not wearing her usual work attire—she's still in the dress she wore to the performance last night. I glance at the clock on the wall, the only one in my house that's not digital. "Denali, it's four in the morning."
She lifts the bottle of champagne I just now realize she's been holding this whole time, and grins. "If you're worried about the time, I can send Roger to the corner store for a bottle of OJ and we can make mimosas for breakfast instead."
"Fuck that," I say with a huff, grabbing the bottle from her hand as I move around the counter and pull two glasses out of the cabinet for us. "Let's drink."
Her elbow comes down to rest on the counter, and I curse myself internally as my eyes drift to her impressive cleavage in that tight little dress she put on for the performance last night. "Well, then pour me one, too. I'll have what you're having."