19. Savannah
Chapter 19
Savannah
I take one step closer to the door but my hand refuses to stretch out to touch the door knob. For the first time since the day I barged into Michael’s office, demanding that he stop sending me letters, I’m a bit hesitant to enter his office.
“Is there something wrong?” Brenda asks.
“No,” I shake my head briskly. “It’s fine. I’ll go in now.”
I’ll just assume it’s only Michael I’m here to see.
Brenda looks at me concerned and unwilling to cause her any more worry, I push the door open and step in.
Michael and Peter both turn to look at me. I take a deep breath, my hands getting clammy.
This is the first time in close to a decade since I’ve been in the same room with my stepbrother. Willingly, at least.
“Savannah,” Michael says, standing up. “You’re here.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly, my eyes darting quickly to Peter and back to Michael and then to the wall.
I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I resort to curling them into fists. Michael walks over to me, getting close enough that I can hear him breathing. He leans close to my ear.
“I know you don’t want to do this, but I think you should. I’ve been wrong about five things in my life and that’s because I wasn’t told all the facts. This…I know enough to tell you that you two will be better off having a good relationship than being enemies,” he whispers.
I grit my teeth. “Easy for you to say. You don’t have a sibling, much less one that you have been in constant competition with all your life.”
He smiles. An easy smile that softens the grudge in my chest a little—against my resolve.
“Okay. But just listen to him, okay? Even if that is all you do, it’ll be enough. Take my seat, that way you can feel more in control.”
Although I know he is teasing me, the words make me feel more at ease. I watch him walk out of the office before I go and sit down. Taking another deep breath, I look at Peter.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” he returns.
We stare at each other for a few seconds and then he clears his throat.
“Ah…uhm, I don’t know where to start or what to say. I feel like everything I say will be wrong because sometimes the words come out wrong,” he says.
“Right,” I bite. “And that’s why you graduated at the top of your class and became partner here. Because you are terrible with words.”
His gaze drops almost immediately. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Let’s start over,” he says.
For some reason, and I’m ready to attribute part of it to Michael’s influence, I feel a bit guilty.
“It’s fine. You don’t have to say what you don’t feel or mean. I’m supposed to listen.” I say.
“Okay,” he nods briskly.
I fold my arms, leaning back on the headrest. As Michael said, I feel…good. While I’ve felt inferior to Peter all my life, I almost feel like we are on equal footing today.
He understands, and a smile touches my lips.
“Michael. He told me about the trial and the...uhm,” Peter pauses. “Your ex-fiance.”
I bite my bottom lip, reminded that Peter is the reason my father hasn’t called to remind me how much of a disgrace I am to him and the family.
“I never liked him,” he says. “I know it doesn’t mean much now but I always thought he was a bit shady, but you were happy with him, and it wasn’t my place to interfere, so I didn’t.”
The corner of my mouth tilts upward. Slightly. Hearing someone else validate my feelings about Brandon is a relief.
But I don’t let it show that his words get to me.
A part of the ice wall that has been built over the years to keep him out might be beginning to thaw. But it doesn’t take away all of the years of low self-esteem, self-degradation, and me always pushing myself to the brink of exhaustion that he was partly responsible for.
“Again,” he goes on. “I know it is not my place but if there is any way I can help you, then please let me. I want to help, Savannah.”
Despite my attempt not to cry, tears slip down my cheeks. I wipe them quickly, glancing away.
“Savannah,” Peter says in a quiet voice. “I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t take away all the things I’ve done or should have done differently, but I’m sorry. I don’t know what I can do to make it up to you but I want to try.”
“Please,” he begs.
The sincerity in his voice and the brokenness in his demeanor tugs at my heart as I turn to look at him. I see tears in his eyes—unabashed regret.
“I’ve waited so long to hear those words, Peter,” I swallow hard. “The days when our father spoke of you, making me feel inferior, I wanted you to stand up for me. I needed to know that I had a brother, not a competitor.”
“But you didn’t,” the tears flow freely again. “Before you came into my life, I had my father but the day you walked through that door, with that bright smile, my father became yours. The spot I had as his child was yours because you were perfect at everything, and I was the child who would never be enough.”
He shakes his head.
“I’m sorry. I—I didn’t know you felt that way until it was too late and then I didn’t know how to make it better. It doesn’t excuse my ignorance, I know.”
I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. The courage that sitting on Michael’s chair gave me minutes ago dissolves as sobs rack through my body and all I’m left with is that small, empty feeling that my teenage self carried everywhere.
“I’ve spoken to him,” he goes on, referring to our father.
“Michael told me,” I say. “He said you threatened to disown him if he contacted me.”
Peter nods. “Yes. I did. I’m ready to stand with you. For you. To do anything that will help you win this case.”
“I’ve told Michael to keep me updated and I also went with him to the pawn shop.”
“You know about the knife then?”
“I do.”
I nod and we lapse into silence.
There is awkwardness hanging in the air but it’s better than the hostility that I viewed him with for so long.
We sit there for a while until the door opens and Michael walks in.
“So,” he says with a splitting grin. “Do I need to stage an intervention or have you two resolved things? Because when it comes to my best friend and my client, who happens to be his sister, you best know that I am going to intervene.”
His jovial tone breaks the ice and I laugh softly.
“You can call it off. We’ve gotten somewhere,” I say
“That’s good. Can I have my seat back, now?”
“I’ll leave instead,” Peter says, standing up. “Thank you for meeting with me, Savannah. If you ever need anything, I’ll be there. Or here. Wherever you are.”
It still feels weird, but I give him a small smile before he walks away.
“What is the general consensus, then?” Michael asks teasingly after Peter has left, taking his seat.
“General consensus?”
“Yeah,” he repeats, reaching for something in the drawers of his desk. “What did you say to Peter? What did he say to you?”
“I listened to him,” I reply, placing my hands on the desk. “Like you said?”
Michael stops to look at me, as he leans back in his chair. His eyes are piercing, intense and it feels like he’s staring into my soul.
But I don’t look away. Taking it as a challenge, I pin him with a stare and a poker expression.
It goes on for a minute and I realize that I’m going to lose when my eyes stray to his lips, lingering there with the memories of our last kiss.
When I drag my gaze back to his eyes, there’s a knowing, teasing look in them.
Oh, you don’t get the upper hand on me, Michael Stone.
“Kiss me,” I whisper.
He winks and I grin.
“Where?” He says in a voice that sends a shiver through my spine and a pleasant flutter to my stomach.
“Everywhere,” I respond, my voice getting heavy with desire.
“Where?” Michael repeats his words barely a whisper. “You know you have to tell me. Do you want me to kiss you on the neck? Your lips, the swell of your breasts? Between your legs, closer to your wet—”
“How about I kiss you instead?” I cut in.
In a bold move and still maintaining eye contact, I rise and lean over the desk, bringing my face inches away from his. It delights me to see that he’s affected when he swallows hard.
Then his hand reaches for the V-neck collar of my stretchy jersey top. And his fingers crawl across my collarbone, forcing a betraying sigh from my lips.
“I could undress you here. I could touch you while we look at each other. I could fuck you while your eyes roll back and you scream when I make you cum.”
It doesn’t take long for me to realize that I’m no match for him, but I also don’t want to give in, so I go headfirst, kissing him hard on the mouth. It startles him so much that his hands fall limp and I use the opportunity to sprint to the other side of the office.
Michael laughs, shaking his head.
“You devious woman. Oh, you want to run away or you want me to chase you?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. You started it. All I did was take it up a notch.”
“I didn’t start it,” he shakes his head. “You were the one who told me to kiss you.”
“I did it to throw you off.”
“And it worked. So, stay where you are, and let me come to kiss you.”
I swallow as he pins me with a mind-hazing, hungry stare. Where I stand in the corner of the office, I take one step back and exhale when my back hits the wall. Michael walks towards me—stalks, more precisely, like a predator with its prey caught in its sights.
He reaches me in no time and his fingers slide up my arm to touch my cheek. His fingers are hot and my body is cool, and the combination feels so electrifying that my eyes close of their own accord.
My heart quickens as I feel Michael’s face come closer to mine, his breath mingling with mine. I hear my heart roaring in my ears. He’s kissed me before but each time…it feels new and exciting.
Then nothing.
I open my eyes to see the stupid, amused grin on Michael’s face.
He shoots me the finger gun. “I win.”
“You—.” My brain doesn’t comprehend the words at first and then I realize.
I roll my eyes, scoffing. “So, this was all a game to you?”
“Wasn’t it?” He smiles.
“You know what? Never mind. I know you like to win all the time and you’ve never lost a challenge before. It’s my loss and I’ll take my leave now.”
I spin on my heels but I don’t get to move more than a step when his hand sneaks around my waist and I find myself pressed to his chest, lips meeting lips. When Michael kisses me, it feels like the end of the world. The beginning too, as the intensity nearly knocks me off my feet.
I sigh heavily, giving everything to him and clinging to his shoulders, trusting him to take until there isn’t anything left. But he also gives—his tongue sneaking past my lips and exploring the depths of the passion that consumes us. His teeth nip my lower lip, biting softly.
Whimpers—soft, then loud, slip out as everything else fades away but us.
His hands touch every inch of my body and heat pools in my stomach before dipping lower, starting a strong beating pulse between my legs.
“Michael,” I moan.
“Savannah,” he drawls, breaking the kiss.
Both of us are flushed and breathless.
He kisses my mouth, smiling softly.
“You win.”
“I win?” Once again, I’m confused as to what he means.
Michael nods. “Yeah. You win. I might be cocky, a little brash but you win when it comes to the two of us, Savannah. Every single time. From the first time you walked through that door to today, you’ve managed to take a part of me and make it yours.”
“No one else has ever done that.”
His confession is so raw and sincere that it takes me by surprise. I stand there, feet away from him, unable to do anything. Then he clears his throat.
“But that’s about it. Why don’t we review what we have on your case again? We need to make sure we have covered everything.”
It breaks the spell a bit, creating room for me to respond. I don’t know how to deal with the soft but brutally honest part of Michael, especially when it stirs my heart so much I can’t focus on anything else.