Chapter 14 Kairo
KAIRO
The diner Devon chooses for our meeting is the last place of civilization on the outskirts of New York before the thirty-minute drive to the town where she lives.
It’s the middle ground between our two worlds and I’m exceptionally overdressed when I step out of the bitter cold and into the welcoming warmth.
Devon’s here already, sitting in a yellow booth beside the windows.
Martin will hate that we sit with such an open view, and it was already a challenge getting him to stay by the car.
Hopefully, he won’t sneak his way in here and ruin what I hope to be a very fruitful conversation.
I’d tried to make peace with the fact that I’d never see Devon again until she called last night with a sudden change of heart.
She didn’t tell me her reasons, instead asking me to meet her here at ten at night after her work day is over.
Pulling soft leather gloves from my hands, I approach her table where she sits with her head low and her gaze focused on her phone in her hand.
There’s a pen drawing of a flower on her cast that wasn’t there before, and her brown hair is twisted into a braid that coils on the top of her head like a crown.
“Devon?” I speak softly so as not to startle her, but the barely concealed flinch is still there as her head snaps up and our eyes meet.
“Wow.” She scoffs softly, closing her phone. “You look like you just waltzed in from some sort of gala.” Her amber eyes drift down my suit to my waist, then back up to my face. “You know the most expensive thing this place sells is pasta, right?”
“Is that judgment I hear?”
Sliding into the booth across from her, I set my gloves down on the table and quickly loosen the blue silk tie around my neck.
“I came straight here once my meetings wrapped up. My clothes weren’t on the forefront of my mind.”
“Clearly.” Her eyes linger on my tie as the knot slips free and I take an easier breath.
Pulling the fabric away from my neck, it balls in my hand while I undo the top two buttons of my shirt and sigh. “I’m glad you called.”
Her brows twitch together briefly and she nods. “I’m glad you came, even if you are kind of slumming it here.”
“I would have met you anywhere you asked me to.” It’s difficult to keep the weight out of those words, but I mean it with my whole heart.
Any address, any place, any time.
I’d be there just to selfishly see her again and to listen to whatever she had to say.
Even if it’s hatred and anger that’s about to spew forth from her, I’m happy to be here.
“Yeah, well…” Devon’s attention falls to her cast and she toys with some of the softer stuffing that’s escaping the cast near her thumb. “I’m still surprised you were awake.”
“Sleep is a luxury these days.”
“You’re telling me.” The corner of her mouth twitches.
“This is new.” I reach forward just an inch to indicate to the flower. “Your own work?”
“No. There was a little girl who came into the store today with her own broken arm, so we traded doodles. I got this flower and I drew a butterfly on hers.”
“Cute.”
“Yeah, she was adorable.” Devon’s smile turns real as she recalls the moment. “I hope it lifted her spirits. She was so sad about being unable to play properly and worried that Santa wouldn’t bring her all the toys she wanted.”
“The problems of a child are so endearing when you get older.”
“Right?” She lifts her eyes and meets mine. “I remember being so distraught when I didn’t get the dream house I wanted as a kid. Felt like my world was ending. I was so naive.”
“Those things are important to a child,” I reply gently. “Did you ever get the house?”
“Something better. The year after, my dad built one for me from scratch. I played with it for hours until the roof caved in. Far too many dramatic life events for that one little house to handle.”
I smile but before I can reply, a yawning waitress appears at our table.
Her off-yellow dress matches the fabric of the booth and her white shoes carry the strain of far too many shifts in a place like this.
She removes a pen from her ear and shivers as a curl of her blonde hair falls loose.
Then her eyes meet mine and her bored expression melts into one of warmth.
“Well hi, handsome, what can I get for ya?”
Devon’s expression in the corner of my eye immediately sours. “Just some coffee.”
“No food?” She scribbles down on the pad in her hand. Lila is scrawled on the nametag hanging from a loosely fixed pin to her apron.
“Yeah, don’t you want to eat with me?” Devon pipes up, drawing Lila’s attention.
Lila’s eyes narrow a fraction as she looks Devon up and down, which makes Devon immediately shift awkwardly in her seat. Lila’s eyes dart between the two of us as if she can’t believe we’re sitting together. “You can order off the family menu if you want?”
The implication that we’re siblings is heavy, so I fix Lila with a calm, measured look. “Actually, I was leaning more toward something that could be shared romantically between two. Does this place still have the heartbreaker waffles?”
Lila’s brows raise and the disappointment floods her eyes. “Sure.”
“Then we’ll take that, please. And a refill for her.”
Lila scribbles on her pad and stomps away with Devon watching her, then her golden eyes flick to me.
“Still? Have you been here before?”
“Many times. When I was younger and I entertained escaping my awful life of privilege, this was as far as my driver would ever take me, so I would come here, sulk and eat, then return home with my tail between my legs.”
Eating my fill was the only thing that made the welcome home from my father worth it.
“Wow.” Her smile rises. “What are heartbreaker waffles?”
“If I remember correctly, they’re two large heart-shaped waffles smothered in chocolate sauce, raspberry compote, two balls of vanilla ice cream, two wafers, and a whole host of mixed fruits. You’re not allergic to any of that, are you?”
“No.” Devon chuckles, though her gaze continues to flick back to the waitress with an unreadable look in her eyes. “Sounds tasty.”
“Very. Although something I’m very overdressed for.”
That brings Devon’s attention back to me. “That’s saying something.”
“My faults are numerous.”
“Mmhmm.” Her eyes wander over me for a moment until they reach my gaze, then her teeth sink into her lower lip and she sighs.
“I’ll get straight to the point. I called because I want to make a deal.
I’ll marry you, but I need to be clear that this is nothing more than a smart business decision, understand?
I’m only in this for the money that will help me secure the land rights the bakery sits on and then we’ll split. ”
“I understand.”
“That’s it?” Her head tilts. “You just… understand?”
“It was my suggestion.” My palms rest on the table.
“And I’m glad you changed your mind.” I'm eager to find out why, because she seemed so against it the last time we spoke. Something must have happened, but if she’s unwilling to share, then I’m not going to pry.
Anything like that risks pushing her away again.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand.” Devon drums her fingers against her cast. “What do you get out of this deal?”
“Honestly?” I puff my cheeks softly. “I’ve watched a lot of bad deals go down in my father’s name even before he passed.
When he was alive, I was just a bystander, and since his death, I’ve been nothing but the Grim Reaper trying to make sure his memory is honored.
None of them have felt good, and it took me this long to realize I don’t need to appease him anymore.
That and, for a little while, it will be nice not to field a hundred questions about my dating life. ”
“Your dating life?” She barely conceals her interest. “I read online that there’s some weird gamble on whether the Sycamore heir will marry before he’s forty.”
I grimace and flex my fingers against the table. “My mother’s painful idea of a joke.”
“Sounds like unjust pressure to me.”
My gaze softens as my heart skips a beat. “That’s exactly what it is, yes.”
“Is that all there is to it?” Devon shifts in her seat and leans back in the booth.
Her walls are still up.
Every time I think I’ve hurdled over one, I find another handful waiting to block my way.
“You don’t trust me.”
“No,” she answers immediately. “I don’t.”
“You’ve made your desires clear. This is to be purely business.
We will marry, and I will grant you unrestricted access to my accounts in order to fight for the rights your family deserves.
Once you win and everything is safely in your name, we can divorce amicably.
I will present all of this to you in writing, and you can have your lawyer look over it so you know it’s legit. ”
Devon’s head tilts and her eyes narrow.
Even in the sickly light of this warm, quiet diner, there’s still a sparkle in their depths that draws me in.
“But why?” Her lips purse. “Why are you even offering a solution like this? You’re rich. Surely, there are other ways you can fuck up this deal or avoid questions about your dating life. Why something as extreme as this?”
I don’t have an answer.
Not one I’m willing to admit out loud.
The invitation to spend more time with Devon through however long it takes for this deal to pass is all that drives me.
Just a few more weeks of her company at one of the warmest and hardest times of the year, to nurture a crush that has nowhere to go, is equal parts terrifying and satisfying.
Telling her this is impossible.
I’ve learned enough about how she holds herself and the pain in her eyes to understand that any advancements I want to make with her are unwanted.
So I will take what I can get, and finally stepping out of my father’s shadow is a bonus.
“I don’t have a real answer here,” I say after a few seconds of silence. “Other than this feels like the right thing to do.”
Devon doesn’t look like she believes me, but she nods slowly.
“Alright. One sec.” She excuses herself to the bathroom, and I watch her walk away, drawn in by the sway of her perfectly round backside until she’s out of sight.
Then I scold myself for becoming distracted.
Does this make me a terrible person?
So hungry to be near her that I’ll risk my entire fortune in a legal battle like this?
As I play out the various scenarios our marriage could create in my life, my phone buzzes twice in my pocket.
Drawing it out, my heart lurches.
Martin has texted me twice. 911.
Leaning toward the window, I peer out into the darkness and spot the issue immediately.
My mother is here and is currently engaged in a heated discussion with Martin.
Shit.
Leaving my gloves on the table so Devon knows I will be back, I hurry outside and catch my mother’s wrist just as she lifts her hand to strike Martin.
“Mom!” I hiss, spinning her to face me. “What are you thinking?”
“Kairo!” Her anger melts away into faux upset that unfortunately turns my gut to steel.
“I was so worried about you! You weren’t answering your phone and I went to the office and no one would tell me where you were.
I had to track him down” —she glares past me to Martin— “and then he was stopping me from going inside!”
Behind her, the family limo is parked haphazardly against the curb with two of her security lingering around pretending they don’t see anything.
That’s all anyone does in this family.
“Mom, I’m busy. And I thought you had therapy tonight?”
Getting her into those sessions has been a nightmare, but for a few days, it felt like they were working.
A professional helping her redirect her anger and healthily process her emotions after decades of being married to my father was the least I could do to help her.
“That bitch called me a terrible mother,” she snarls. “I don’t want to see her anymore, so I came to find you.”
Martin and I exchange a doubtful look but before I can press further, Devon’s soft voice reaches my ears and my heart sinks.
“Kairo?”
She stands a foot away with my gloves clasped in her hand, staring at the three of us with wide eyes.
Her presence triggers a change in my mother.
She instantly forgets about her meltdown and plasters a fake smile on her face as if Devon’s presence threatens her carefully constructed reputation.
“Devon, I’m sorry I left so abruptly. This is my mother, Clarice. She had a—”
“An emergency,” Mom cuts in with a sharp, sweet voice. “But it’s all sorted now. Who are you?”
My heart stalls in my chest as a hundred excuses burst through my mind, but before I can speak, Devon gets there first.
“I’m Devon.” She balances my gloves on her cast and smiles warmly at my mother. “I’m Kairo’s fiancée.”
Mom goes as pale as a sheet as she looks Devon up and down.
Her pursed, red lips part once, then twice, then she looks at me and frowns.
“Fiancée? I think it’s time the three of us had dinner, don’t you think?”
“Mom, it’s late,” I say, throwing Devon an apologetic look. “Devon was just going home.”
“Nonsense,” Mom scoffs sharply. “You’ve been hiding her from me for weeks, and I think I deserve some answers, so come on.”
She snaps her fingers and turns on her pencil-thin high heels. “We’ll take my car. Martin can follow.”