Chapter 25 #2
Today, I learned that Patterson isn’t just someone I’m fucking. He’s the reason any of it works. He’s under my skin, in my blood, wired into every fantasy, like he belongs there.
I peel myself off the wet sheets and stumble to the bathroom to clean up. My phone vibrates with a text.
Addison
Gallery opening tonight. Drinks after. Nonnegotiable.
I groan. My legs are jelly. My clit is so swollen that even my underwear feels like too much.
Kendall
Can’t. Busy.
Addison
With what?
Kendall
Enjoying myself. Being alone on a Sunday night.
Addison
That sounds sad AF!
Kendall
Trust me, it’s not.
Addison
Okay, weirdo. One drink? Please? I need to get out of my apartment, and I don’t want to go to this event alone. I’ll even add a cherry on top! Pleeeeease! I’ve barely seen you since all this Jamie stuff started.
I should stay home. I should rest like Patterson told me to. But something nags at me for purposely avoiding my best friend. I promised her that I’d try more when I moved back. I can’t break that now.
Kendall
One drink only!
Addison
YES! See you at 7!
I shower, put on a black sweater, a leather skirt, and tights that hide most of my body. Every step makes me aware of how sensitive I still am, how swollen, how I’ve worshipped myself today. Patterson feels like a secret under my skin.
Ten minutes before seven, I meet Addison at the gallery. She loops her arm through mine, and we take our time walking through each room. The display is the usual Chelsea bullshit by the same artists that always get featured.
“One day, I’m going to throw a gala where every artist inside is unknown.”
“You should,” Addison says proudly, looking stunning in green.
“What?” I ask as she studies me.
“You look different,” she says, tilting her head. “Glowy. Relaxed. Are you falling in love again?”
I nearly choke on my champagne. “Is this what I look like when I fall in love?”
“Yes, actually. Wow, I’m so jealous because—” She’s pulled away before she can finish her sentence.
I stare at one of the abstract pieces and hear a deep, familiar voice beside me.
I turn to see Damien Blackwell.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she? But holds so many secrets,” he says, and I tilt my head at him. “The painting,” he says, lifting his champagne toward it. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
He moves closer—uncomfortably close. “You never called me back.”
I chuckle, ready to elbow him in the stomach. I might have grown up ice-skating, but I also played hockey with the boys. It’s where The Destroyer originated.
“I told you I was busy with my commissions.”
“Not too busy to fuck with Cross.” He tilts his head, studying me. “We had a connection. Kendall, you nearly sucked my dick.”
“We had dinner. Twice.” I take a step back, but he follows. “And then I ended it.”
“You almost let me get you off.”
“But you didn’t because you couldn’t.” I glare at him. “Not something I’d brag about, honestly.” I sip my champagne and suck in a deep breath.
His smile doesn’t waver, but something cold stays behind his eyes. “I saw the photos of you and Patty the day after the ceremony.”
“That was Jameson.”
“Was it?” He takes another step closer, and I feel the warmth of him pressed against me. “Funny thing. That morning, I was having breakfast with Jameson. Now, you tell me how he could be in two places at the same time, knowing damn well Patterson and I could never eat at the same table.”
My blood goes cold as he pulls out his phone and shows me the photo they took together. He even shows me the time stamp.
“You’re delusional if you think anyone will believe that. It’s AI.”
“Really? That’s what you’re going with?” His hand comes up to rest on my waist. “What would Daddy say if I told him the truth? How do you think he’d react if he knew his little girl was fucking his star player behind his back?
Makes me wonder how long Coach Hart’s golden boy has been balls deep in his precious little daughter. ”
My fingers go numb.
“Get your hands off of me.”
His smile twists into something ugly. “You shouldn’t have ever used me for your games with Patterson. You should’ve given me a real chance instead of keeping it in the family. It’s disgusting.”
“I’ll give you one more chance to move your hand before I drop you to your knees,” I warn him.
He laughs, glancing back at the painting. “Go ahead. Tell your secret boyfriend what I said too. I’d love to fuck him up and watch him throw away his entire career for a cheap-ass puck bunny who can’t keep her legs closed. Always knew Jamie was the sensible one. You’re sloppy seconds, Kendall.”
I shove him hard in the chest, but he barely moves. His hand catches my wrist, fingers tight enough to bruise, and he leans in like he’s about to kiss me.
“You’ll give me another chance, or I’ll make it my mission to ruin both you and Patterson.”
I turn my head at the last second, and his lips catch my cheek instead of my mouth.
A flash goes off somewhere behind us.
He pulls back with a satisfied smirk, like he planned this confrontation, like he wanted someone to capture this moment. My skin crawls where his mouth touched me.
“Think about what I said.” He releases me. “I’d hate for you to stain your daddy’s reputation.”
Then he walks away.
I stand there, frozen, my heart slamming in my chest. I try to remember how to breathe. The gallery noises rush back in, and I realize my hands are shaking.
“Hey.” Addison appears at my side with two fresh glasses of champagne.
“I saw you talking to someone, but I got pulled into a conversation with—” She stops, her face shifting when she sees me.
“Keke, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She sets down the glasses and grabs my hands. “What happened? Who was that?”
“Damien Blackwell.”
Her eyes go wide. “No. What did he want?”
“For me to give him a chance after he called me a puck bunny.”
She bursts out laughing, but I don’t smile. “Oh, you’re serious. How will that work? You’re literally dating my brother.”
“Exactly,” I say, and it almost feels like I’m admitting something. “Damien’s … being an asshole. Now I understand why Patterson hates him.”
“Yeah, that man is a known snake.”
Addison studies my face, and I can see her trying to figure me out. I can’t quite meet her eyes. She’s too smart, but also too good a friend, to push.
“Okay, we’re leaving,” she says, linking her arm through mine. “Time to go home.”
“We don’t have to—”
“You agreed to one drink, and we had more than one.” She steers me toward the exit. “I’m putting you in a cab, and you’re going to text me when you get home, okay?”
“Seriously, we can still—”
“Nope.” She hugs me on the sidewalk, tightly. “Promise you’ll tell me whatever you’re hiding soon.” She pulls back and holds my face in her hands. “I know you’re hiding something from me. I haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Addi—”
“Go home. Rest. Call me tomorrow.”
I climb into the cab she flags down for me—the whole ride home, I stare out the window, Damien’s words echoing in my head.
He has leverage, and he’s petty enough to use it because he hates Patterson that much.
By the time I get to my apartment, I’m exhausted. I lock the door behind me and lean against it, trying to slow my breathing. I need to warn Patterson. I need to tell him before Damien does something stupid. But it’s late, and I know he’s probably asleep by now.
I strip off my clothes and climb into bed, but my mind won’t stop racing. Every time I close my eyes, I see Damien’s smirk, feel his lips on my cheek, and hear his threat echoing in my ears.
Needing something to quiet the noise, I slide my hand between my thighs. I need to end this day the way I started it, thinking about Patterson.
I need to remember what matters.
This orgasm builds gently until it crests and releases the tension I’ve been holding since the gallery. I come with his name on my lips, and my body lets go.
Kendall
Chef
I stare at the screen, my thumb hovering over the keyboard.
I should warn him that something happened tonight. But what would I even say?
Tomorrow, when he comes over, I’ll explain everything to his face.
I set my phone on the nightstand and pull the covers over me.
Tomorrow.