Chapter Fourteen
Vance
Magnolia was stonewalling me. It had been two weeks since I'd kissed her, and she was resolutely pretending nothing had happened. Exactly like the last time we’d kissed.
Not like I hadn't fucked it up on my own.
I'd known it was too soon. I'd known Rosalie made everything infinitely more complicated and that I had to be careful.
Cautious.
But there was something about Magnolia when she was half-asleep that completely destroyed my resolve.
Awake, she was brisk and efficient and brilliant. I respected the hell out of her. Her brain was as much a turn-on as her body.
Magnolia was tough. She was a survivor. I respected the hell out of that too. All of these facets of her personality added up to a woman who captivated me, but who was also more than a little intimidating.
Yes, intimidating.
I know what you're thinking. I'm Vance Winters. How can any woman intimidate me?
But that's the thing. Magnolia was the first woman, the only woman, who ever really mattered. I'm man enough to admit that scared the shit out of me.
I couldn't afford to fuck things up with her. She'd been hurt enough by her parents and by Brayden. She was still struggling with the loss of her grandmother.
And I wasn't exactly a prize. On paper, maybe. Rich, successful, good-looking, fantastic in bed.
I was also a recovering alcoholic who wasn't even two years sober, now a single father, and I had no fucking clue how to have a relationship or deal with a woman I cared about.
Magnolia wanted stability. She wanted a family. I didn't know if I could offer her that.
The family, sure. Now that Rosalie had shown up, I was pretty much a ready-made family package. But the rest of it?
I had no clue how to be the other half of a couple. I definitely didn't know how to be a father. Every day since Rosalie had shown up was a new adventure. So far, we were doing okay, but that didn't mean I had any idea what I was doing.
Magnolia was stonewalling me, and I was letting her. I'd known it was too soon to kiss her again. I'd known, and I'd done it anyway.
When she was awake, Magnolia had her defenses up, a constant reminder that I had to be careful and patient.
But Magnolia asleep? Her eyes soft and warm, her creamy cheeks flushed pink, those full lips half open, her voice a low murmur . . . I'd lost my head. My feelings for the waking Magnolia were complicated.
Important and real, but complicated. My reaction to sleeping Magnolia was primitive and demanding.
One look at her blue eyes half-lidded and drowsy, and I wanted to scoop her up, throw her over my shoulder, and take her to bed, where I could spend hours showing her all the ways I’d dreamed of touching her, of making her come.
Two weeks since our last kiss, and I was done with waiting. I’d been watching, waiting for her to work up the courage to say something, for her to face what was between us.
I'd finally realized she would run forever if I let her.
I was going to make a move. So far, I was playing it by ear, waiting for my moment. If it didn’t come soon, I’d make it happen. I was down in my studio, putting the finishing touches on a few pieces while Rosalie slept in my bedroom and Magnolia worked in the office.
I had a monitor in the studio now, so I'd know if Rosie woke up and Magnolia needed a hand. I didn't have a lot left to do for the show. At this point, most of the prep work was on Sloane and Magnolia.
I'd been messing around over the past few days, making toys for Rosie out of scraps in my workshop. I'd never done anything on such a small scale before, and it was challenging trying to imagine what would catch her attention.
I'd had accolades showered on my work ever since Sloane had taken over managing my career, but nothing matched seeing my daughter grab a toy I'd made and shove it in her mouth with glee.
The books said it was too early for her to be teething, but I was starting to wonder because the cool metal of the toys on her little red gums seemed to soothe her when she got fussy.
The front doorbell rang. I rolled my stool over to the desk, hitting a button on the monitor to pull up the security camera.
Sloane stood at the door in a black suit, her dark hair pulled back from her angular face, her expression in its perpetual arrangement of annoyance and disdain. Since I was closer to the door, I clicked the button for the microphone and said, "Be right there."
By the time I got to the door, Sloane's face had rearranged itself into a smile. She was a lot of things, an excellent manager among them, but she wasn't subtle. I often wondered why Rupert put up with her. It was well known that she slept with most of her artists, but he didn't seem to care.
"Vance," she cooed, leaning in to kiss my cheeks, first one side then the other, an affectation that had always annoyed me. Her perfume was heavy, and the neckline of her blouse beneath the suit jacket was low enough to skirt the edge of good taste. I stepped back to let her in.
"Sloane," I said, stepping out of her reach, "What can I do for you?"
"Nothing, darling. I've got everything I need from you for the show. I'm here to speak with your assistant. Where is she? She's not answering her phone."
We'd been avoiding this confrontation, but I couldn't think of a good way to get rid of Sloane before she saw Rosalie. If the secret was about to get out, I might as well do it all at once, I decided.
Leading Sloane to the freight elevator, I said, "Sloane, I don't know how many times I've told you. Magnolia is not my assistant. She's my business manager. Big difference."
Sloane tossed her head and shrugged as if to say, whatever, Vance. She knew better than to speak the words out loud.
We entered the main level of the loft to find it silent and empty. Magnolia must have heard the elevator doors open because she greeted us at the door to her office. Her expression was polite and composed, but I knew my girl.
I could see annoyance and nerves simmering in those clear blue eyes. I winked at her, knowing it would aggravate her enough to chase off the nerves. When she scowled at me, pressing her pink lips together, I couldn't help but grin back.
Deciding to ignore me, she looked at Sloane and said, "Sloane, what are you doing here?"
"I needed to talk to you about the publicity we've set up for the show, and you're not answering your phone."
"Why didn't you just email me?" Magnolia said.
"Because I didn't want to type it all out. I wanted to talk to you. Why aren't you answering your phone?" Sloane's voice was shrill at the best of times. When she was annoyed, it could cut through glass.
I knew why Magnolia wasn't answering her phone. She'd turned it off when Rosalie fell asleep. We'd gotten in the habit of turning off all the phones when Rosalie was napping.
No interruption was worth waking the baby. We'd both read the entire stack of books we'd gotten from the baby store, so we were well aware that the conventional wisdom was to expose the sleeping baby to all sorts of noises so they'd sleep through them.
Clearly, those people had never lived with a four-month-old. I loved Rosie. I’d never imagined it was possible to fall so completely head over heels for a tiny human being who couldn't even talk to me. That said, she was a hell of a lot easier to handle when she was sleeping.
Every time she passed out, we were so fucking grateful that the idea of letting anything wake her up was unimaginable.
And here was Sloane, working herself up to a hissy fit. No fucking way. Before I could say anything, Magnolia cut in.
In a low voice, she said, "Keep your voice down, Sloane. Come into the office, and we can go over whatever you want to talk about."
"Don't tell me to keep my voice down," Sloane snapped back, enunciating each word so precisely they shot from her mouth like bullets. "You were brought in to keep his business in line. That's the only reason you're here, and if you can't do that job, you’re welcome to leave."
I expected Magnolia to lose her temper. She usually kept a handle on her emotions, but we hadn't been getting a lot of sleep and Sloane could be hard to take on a good day.
Instead, she shook her head and looked at me, raising one eyebrow.
"Can she fire me?" Magnolia asked, already knowing the answer. It was not the first time we'd had this conversation.
It looked like Magnolia was prepared to be amused, but I was done with it.
"She can't," I said, "and she damn well knows it."
"Vance.” Sloane turned her back on Magnolia in an attempt to cut her out of the conversation. She placed one long-fingered hand on my chest. Her red-tipped fingernails reminded me of claws. Again, I wondered why Rupert put up with her.
"Sloane," I countered, removing her hand from my chest and taking a step back. "If you can't learn to treat Magnolia with respect, we're going to have to reevaluate our working relationship. Do you understand me?"
I kept my voice level and low, but there was no mistaking my intent. Sloane's eyes widened in disbelief. She stepped back, her eyes shooting between us.
"You're sleeping with her," she screeched, pointing her finger at me and then at Magnolia.
A tiny sneeze sounded from the bedroom, followed by another, then a third. Why was Rosie sneezing? Was she allergic to something? Sick? She'd seemed fine when we put her down. A second later, a high-pitched wail cut through the tension.
Before I could stop her, Magnolia disappeared into the bedroom. She came back with Rosie in her arms. My daughter's wisps of black hair were standing straight up, her blue eyes tear-filled. She'd been asleep for two hours.
Two blissful, productive hours. I put out my arms, and Magnolia handed me Rosie after dropping a kiss on her red nose. Rosie sneezed again.
"She's hungry," Magnolia said, heading straight for the kitchen to mix up a bottle.
"Thanks, Babe," I said, nuzzling Rosie's cheek with my lips and whispering meaningless murmurs of comfort.