18. BECKETT
BECKETT
What the fuck did I just do? Better yet, what the fuck did I say? She’ll be part of the Morgan family soon. What the hell was I thinking uttering those words in front of everyone? I must have lost my damn mind for a moment.
And Quinn—well, she hasn’t said a word since we left the meeting, her gaze fixed out the window. I keep my eyes on the road, pretending not to notice, but inside I’m restless. That wasn’t part of the plan. Hell, there wasn’t even a plan. It just came out—loud, clear, and final.
I tell myself it was strategy. She needed backing, and I gave it to her. Simple as that. But I know better. I know the real reason.
I hated the way they looked at her. Like she was some naive little girl playing with the big boys, like she didn’t deserve to even sit at that damn table. Her father didn’t help either, while she stood there with her chin up, fighting with the wolves clawing at her.
That’s what got me. The way she fought, even when the odds were stacked high against her.
So yeah, I stepped in. I couldn’t just sit there and watch her drown while everyone else held her under. I gave her a lifeline. The only problem is, the rope I threw her is tied around both of us now.
And I can’t tell if I saved her or just dragged her deeper with me.
When I pull up in front of the house, Quinn is out of the cab before I’ve even killed the engine, her heels clicking fast and sharp across the porch. I know that walk—it’s the kind that means I’m about to get skinned alive.
By the time I step inside, she’s waiting for me in the entryway, arms crossed tight against her chest, eyes blazing. The fire in them makes me want to grin, but I bite it back. I already know she’s not in the mood for teasing. I’m so glad no one is around to watch her rip into me.
“Why?” Her voice is clipped. “Why would you announce something like that? In front of them?”
I lean against the wall, arms loose at my sides, pretending calm even though my chest feels tight. “What, you didn’t like my delivery? I thought it was a damn good speech, myself.”
Her eyes narrow into slits. “Don’t play games with me, Beckett. This isn’t funny.”
She only uses my full name when she’s pissed at me, so if it wasn’t obvious before, it sure as hell is now.
“I helped, didn’t I?” I push off the wall, closing a little of the space between us. “You saw their faces change. They were ready to rip you apart, and suddenly you had their votes. That’s all that matters.”
“That’s not all that matters!” She takes a step closer, chin tilted up at me, stubborn and fierce. “You blindsided me. You made me look foolish, like I couldn’t handle it myself.”
I swallow hard, fighting the urge to reach for her.
“Quinn, I didn’t do it to embarrass you.
I just—“ The words snag in my throat, and I end up shrugging, rough. “I didn’t want you standing there alone. Not while they treated you like that. I had to do something, and in the moment, that was the best I could come up with.”
Her arms uncross, falling to her sides as if she doesn’t know what to do with them anymore. The fire in her eyes softens, just barely. “So you… what? Decided to throw out a fake engagement to save me?”
I let out a low chuckle, trying to ease the tension. “Worked like a charm, didn’t it? You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
She rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath, but I can see the fight draining out of her shoulders. For all her fury, she knows I’m right—she needed backup in that room.
Still, she stabs a finger at me. “This doesn’t mean anything, you understand that, right? It’s for appearances only. Until this deal goes through. Then we stage a breakup and go back to normal.”
Her words hit hard, and I can’t for the life of me fathom why, but I force a crooked smile. “Sure, darlin’. Whatever you say.”
We end up in the lounge, Quinn perched on the edge of the couch like she’s about to conduct a board meeting instead of stage-manage a fake relationship. I sprawl into the armchair across from her, slouched low, arms wide, just to needle her.
“Alright,” she says briskly, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “If we’re going to do this, there have to be rules.”
“Rules,” I echo, smirking. “Sounds romantic already.”
Her glare could peel paint, but she presses on. “One, we keep this believable in public. That means people will expect to see us together. We show up at events side by side. Appear like we’re… in love.” She can barely choke the words out.
I grin slowly, savoring her discomfort. “So, hand-holding, stolen glances, maybe a kiss or two for the crowd?”
She flushes, biting her lip, and I know I’ve scored a hit.
She proceeds, ignoring my taunting. “Two, this ends the moment the deal is closed. We will then stage a breakup. You’ll make some big scene about how you’re a Morgan and can’t be tied down, and I’ll look heartbroken. Everyone will sympathize with me. Simple.”
My grin falters for half a second. Breakup? She’s tossing the word around like it’s nothing, but it lands heavier than I want to admit. I shift in my seat, disguising it with a casual stretch. “Sure. Stage a breakup. Got it.”
“Three.” Her voice softens, but her gaze stays sharp. “No blurring the lines. We don’t confuse this for something real.”
That one hits me square in the chest. I nod slowly, masking the twist in my gut with a shrug. “Right. Fake as can be. Wouldn’t dream of confusing you, darlin’.”
“You wish,” she mocks with an eye roll before settling down and studying me for a moment—she’s trying to read what I’m not saying. Then she exhales, satisfied enough. “Good. I’m glad we understand each other.”
“Crystal clear.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees, smirk back in place. “But if you’re so grateful for me swooping in to save your ass, shouldn’t we seal the deal with a kiss?”
Her mouth drops open, scandalized. Then her hand snaps out, smacking my arm hard enough to sting.
I bark a laugh, low and rough, rubbing the spot. “Damn. You’re stronger than you look. Wanna kiss it better?” I suggest, flexing my arm.
Her lips twitch—she’s fighting a smile—but she shakes her head. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah,” I say, leaning back again, watching her with more warmth than I mean to let show, “but you’re stuck with me now.”
“Come on,” I tease, tilting my head. “One little kiss wouldn’t kill you. After all, we’ve done more than that. Might even be fun.” I wink at her.
“Fun for you, maybe,” she shoots back, standing to her feet with that imperious little tilt of her chin. “Rule number four: Beck Morgan doesn’t get to enjoy this arrangement more than I do.”
I whistle, slow. “Ah, so you’re already thinking about what you might enjoy.”
Her cheeks color, and she points toward the hallway like she’s banishing a misbehaving dog. “Go away before I add a rule about gagging you permanently.”
I stand, unhurried, towering over her as I pass. “Wouldn’t be the first time a woman wanted me gagged,” I murmur just loud enough for her to hear.
She shoves me with a frustrated huff, but she’s laughing now, trying to hide it behind her hand.
“Goodnight, Quinn,” I say, voice softer than I mean it to be.
“Go away,” she insists again, though her eyes are warm when they meet mine.
I chuckle as I walk away, up the stairs, my grin fading the further I get from her.
This was supposed to be about redemption. About proving myself. About showing this town I’m not that rebel from ten years ago. But today, standing beside her in that room, hearing them tear her down, I couldn’t let it happen. I couldn’t stand back.
The thing is, protecting Quinn felt instinctive, necessary.
And damn it, I like the way she laughs when she forgets to hate me. The way her eyes spark when she argues, the way her lips press together when she’s trying not to smile. I shouldn’t notice any of it, shouldn’t want what I’m starting to want.
But as I walk back to my room, the truth gnaws at me: I can’t tell if I’m trying to save her, or if I just want her for myself. Oh boy, am I in trouble.