Chapter 9
NINE
CRESSIDA
Last week, I sent Soren an email asking when we could conduct the interview. He opened the email—I know that for a fact because I have read receipts turned on in my emails. But he has obviously chosen not to reply.
I saw Noah earlier this week when he brought Oliver back, and the urge to ask him about his engagement and why he didn’t tell me about it was hard to beat down.
And finding out that Soren had told me the truth was a bitter pill to swallow, especially when I knew he only shared that bit of information with me out of malice.
Because that’s the type of asshole he truly is.
Oliver and I are waiting outside for Noah to arrive.
He’s running late to pick Oliver up for a trip to visit his family.
Part of me wants to ask him if she will be attending, but I’m not even supposed to know about her, and how serious they are.
While we have a great co-parenting relationship, I think we need to improve how we share information about who is in our son’s life.
“You excited to see Nana and Grandad?” I ask Oliver. He loves Noah’s family, and I don’t blame him, because they are incredible people. I loved being part of their family, and I’m glad Oliver has that support system since all my family lives out of state.
“Yes. And Taylor is coming with us this weekend,” he says excitedly.
“Taylor?” I ask casually.
“Yeah, she’s Dad’s new friend. She got me a Nintendo Switch,” he says, as if I should know that. I assumed Noah had bought it for him. It didn’t even occur to me to ask.
“That was nice of her.” I try to keep my emotions in check, but I can’t lie and say a little sadness doesn’t pass through me, knowing Noah didn’t share this with me himself.
I hear a car pull up behind me, and I turn, expecting it to be Noah. But who I see step out definitely isn’t Noah.
No, it’s fucking Soren Nixon.
The man himself.
The dickhead of all dickheads.
He looks me over before his gaze moves to Oliver. He runs one hand down the front of his suit jacket as he approaches us.
Without saying a word, I glare at him. The last thing I want is for him to meet my son, especially with his vague threat toward my son.
“Good afternoon, Miss Knight. Who is this young gentleman?” He’s still eyeing Oliver.
Oliver smiles brightly at him. “I’m Mr. Knight,” Oliver says proudly, puffing his chest a little.
I can’t help the smile that touches my lips.
“Soren, why are you here?”
His gray gaze comes to mine before he says, “I was thinking you could join me for a drink.”
I scoff. “So, I can wear the wrong attire… again?”
“Of course not. What you’re wearing is fine.”
“Yeah, Mom, you look great,” Oliver chirps, and I pat him on the shoulder in thanks.
I’m dressed in jeans and a light-pink shirt. I finished work early so I could spend the afternoon with Oliver, since he’s going to be away for the week with Noah. I changed clothes to take him out for ice cream.
Before I notice what I’m doing, my back straightens a little, and Noah looks just as surprised to see me waiting out here.
Usually, he comes inside and collects Oliver, which I’m guessing is what he thought would happen today.
It’s probably why he brought her. He steps out of the car, and that’s when he sees Soren standing nearby, watching us.
“Dad!” Oliver goes straight to Noah and leaps into his arms. “I packed all my things, and I’m ready to go.” Oliver turns back to me and gives me a wave. “See you in a week, Mom. Love you.” I give him a small wave in return as he climbs into the back seat of the car.
The car door is shut, and he can no longer hear me, but I couldn’t care less that Soren is standing there as I ask Noah in a biting tone, “Taylor meeting the family?”
A crease forms between his brows as he stares at me and says sheepishly, “She already has.”
I wave a hand at him. “Of course, you’re engaged. How could I forget?” I glance at Oliver to make sure he isn’t paying us any attention before I look back at Noah. “Have a good week.”
Goddammit! I turn and walk back to my house, but just as I reach to the door, I look to Soren and say, “You can go now. You aren’t wanted here.” Then I slam the door shut behind me.
Leaning against it, I can hear them speaking.
“Are you two working together?” Noah asks Soren.
“You could say that,” Soren replies vaguely.
They go quiet again before I hear a woman’s voice.
“Soren, it’s good to see you.”
“Taylor,” he says in greeting.
And that has me whipping open the door, and everyone’s attention swings to me. I glare at Soren and point at him. “You. Get inside. Now.”
Soren’s eyes narrow before he makes his way to me.
I step aside so he can enter, and when he does, I shoot a bright but fake smile at my ex and his fiancée before I shut the door.
Taking a deep breath, I gather the courage to turn around and face Soren.
When I do, I find him watching me with a curious expression.
He looks intimidating, dressed in all black, but his hair is messier than usual.
And his lips are pressed together in a straight line, as if he already knows what I’m about to say, but he speaks before I can get a word out.
“Nice family you have there. You plan to invite Taylor around for Christmas?”
Without thinking, I bend down, pick up one of my heels, and chuck it at his face. He catches it in midair.
Fuck him and his quick reflexes.
He glances at the shoe in his hand before dropping it to the floor, then returns his gaze to me. “Assault. Guess that one is new.”
“You knew I didn’t know about Taylor. Was that your plan, to unravel me so I wouldn’t keep fishing for a story?” I seethe.
“Did it work?”
“No, it made me angrier.”
“So, you invited me in to assault me. You could have at least kissed me first.”
I scrunch my face in disgust. “Why on earth would I ever want to do that?” I shake my head at the thought. Kiss him? Sure, he has kissable lips, and he’s very attractive—probably too attractive for me, that’s for sure.
He takes a step in my direction, and I stay where I am by the front door. His managing to get the upper hand and have me backed up is entirely my own fault. I should have moved.
Hell, I shouldn’t have even invited him in.
But I was just so angry.
“I’m very kissable,” he states seriously. And it takes a moment for it to register, but then laughter bubbles up, and I lean over, clutching my stomach as I laugh uncontrollably.
He really just said that, and with a straight face.
Wiping my eyes, I manage to compose myself.
“I’m sorry, but have you thought of being a comedian?” I ask, unable to keep the smile off my face.
“You laugh, but I am.” His tone is still serious.
Actually, he almost always sounds serious.
“How do you know Taylor?” I ask, changing the subject. I don’t want to think about kissing him. You don’t kiss the people you’re investigating for a story. Even if he does have very kissable lips, which his tongue is sliding over right now, but kissing him would be very stupid.
And I’m not that stupid.
Am I?
“She works for me.”
“Of course she does.”
“Most people in the media work for me, in one way or another.” He says this as if I should already know that. “Now, will you be joining me for a drink?”
“No,” I say, straight up.
He steps in, slow and deliberate, until his arms rise, one on either side of my head, bracketing me in. He’s close enough that I can feel the death radiating off him, his presence like a wall I can’t move through.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I ask in a barely there whisper.
“You’re blocking the door. Or were you planning on kissing me after all?”
“Why do you keep mentioning us kissing? Have I ever once given you any indication that I want to kiss you?”
“Yes.”
My head rears back. “When?”
“It’s in those innocent eyes, Hurricane, the way they keep falling to my lips.”
“Well, you need to get your eyesight checked.”
And, dammit, my gaze flicks to his damn lips.
And when it does, his mouth twitches, as if fighting a smirk.
“Goodnight, Hurricane.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
When neither of us moves, he says, “I can’t leave with you being a linebacker and blocking the door.”
“Aren’t you man enough to move me?” I blurt stupidly, not even realizing I’m still blocking the door.
Before I can slide out of the way, he grips my waist and lifts me effortlessly, bringing me close.
Not close enough that our bodies touch, but there’s only a breath of space between us.
Then he places me back on my feet just next to the door.
He winks at me before he pulls open the door and leaves, shutting it behind him.
I need to stay away from that man.
He is nothing but bad news.