Chapter Twenty-Two
Vance
Aiden. I'd talked to him the day before when he'd met me at the Sinclair offices to look at the photograph. I assumed he was calling the meeting to discuss it with everyone else.
Fine with me. We didn't have plans for the night, and I'd take any chance to hang with my family and show off my girls.
Magnolia was at home, supervising the installation of the security system. She was getting the works—motion triggered video, panic buttons, driveway sensor—anything the Sinclairs could think of that would keep her safe.
I had Rosie with me, though she was currently fast asleep, giving me some much-needed quiet time.
We'd been slacking at work. Most of the prep for the show was finished, and we didn't have any investments that needed direct input.
If Rosie hadn't entered our lives, we would have jumped into a new project as soon as the show was set up, but for the past few weeks, we'd been enjoying a looser schedule.
Still, shit piled up. A few days of ignoring my email, and my inbox was clogged—fires to put out, calls to return. I'd been making good progress when Aiden's text had popped up on my phone. I took a second to text Magnolia before getting back to work.
Dinner at W House? 7pm? Everyone will be there.
She answered back immediately. Sure. Pick me up?
I'll be back before that. Almost done here.
K. How's Rosie?
I sent her a picture of Rosie in the floor gym, passed out on her back, one little hand still in the ring she'd been tugging when sleep had gotten the better of her.
Magnolia sent back an emoji of a ribboned heart, then, Better get back to work before she wakes up.
Slave driver.
Don't make me crack the whip :)
Yes, Ma'am.
I put my phone down and tried to get back to my to-do list, but now I was distracted by the image of Magnolia in black leather, cracking a whip.
She wasn't the dominatrix type, but she would sure as shit be hot in black leather. She’d almost made me come in my pants with that black lace lingerie the day before. Jesus.
Lately, it seemed like fucking Magnolia Henry was the cure for everything that had ever gone wrong in my life. Seeing that picture of my parents had been enough to leave me desperate for a drink, every beat of my heart, every breath tasting of raw pain.
I'd never shake that memory. It was burned into my brain. But the picture made it real in a way it hadn't been in years. Alcohol was my friend. Alcohol would chase off the memories. The guilt.
If Magnolia hadn't been there, I might have done it. I'd like to think Rosie would have been enough to make me stop and think. I could lie and say my daughter was the reason I hadn't gone straight to a bar.
She was part of it. Sure, she was. But Magnolia was the rest. She was the real reason. I had to stay sober if I wanted Magnolia.
Rosie would never remember if I fucked up and got wasted. She wasn’t even five months old. But Magnolia would. She'd be my friend no matter what. I didn't doubt that.
But she'd never let me back in her bed if I started drinking again. I couldn't think of many things worse than being kicked out of Magnolia's bed. Not now that I'd had a taste of her.
The thing was, with her there, my body freshly sated with hers, her gentle smile and open heart, I knew I could handle the memories. That certainty settled in my bones when she woke me from the nightmare.
It was a familiar hell, the dream of finding them, lifeless in our home, still warm, blood leaking from bullet wounds in a slow drip.
I was used to coming out of the nightmare alone, used to heading straight for the bottle, or more recently, the gym, to burn the pain from my body and to sweat out the memories.
Magnolia petting me, soothing me with her low voice while she stroked my hair, her nails gently scratching my scalp—that was way fucking better.
Her touch, her body, was more home to me than any place or person had been since I was eight years old.
I picked up my phone and prepared to make yet another call. I wanted to get this business over with so Rosie and I could go home to Magnolia. I had the number on the screen when the security system beeped to let me know someone was at the door.
Fuck. Switching apps on my phone, I pulled up the camera.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Sloane.
Of all the people I didn't feel like talking to, Sloane was at the top of the list. She was annoying on a good day. Since she'd discovered Magnolia and I were together, she'd been a royal bitch.
Unfortunately, we had a show in two days. I couldn't ignore her, as much as I wanted to.
I tapped the microphone button on the app and said, "Come on up, Sloane." Another tap, and I unlocked the door. I heard the whir of the elevator a few seconds later.
Rising from my desk, I met her at the door. I wanted to head her off so she didn't wake Rosie.
"Sloane, Rosie's sleeping. Let's stay in the kitchen."
"Fine," she snapped, her dark eyebrows drawn together. "Why isn't Maggie watching her?"
"Because Rosie's my daughter, and Magnolia had other business to take care of today."
"You need to get a nanny, Vance. You have better things to do than take care of an infant."
"No, I don't," I said. "The most important thing I have to do right now is spend time with my daughter. Everything else comes second."
"Even Maggie?" Sloane asked, a sly smile on her face.
"Magnolia is none of your business," I said.
"I never would have sent her to you if I thought you'd end up fucking her. She held you off long enough, but I guess you got to her eventually. I shouldn't be surprised. I've heard you can talk a nun into spreading her legs."
"Sloane," I warned. She shrugged.
"Aren't you going to offer me coffee?" she asked.
"No. I'm slammed, and I want to get home. I thought everything was ready for the show. What do you want?"
"You don't need to get home, Vance. You are home. Don't let the baby and Maggie delude you. You're an artist. Playing house is fun for a while, but you can't sustain it long-term. You don't have it in you. It's not who you are."
I was rapidly losing patience. "You don't know anything about who I am, Sloane. Magnolia and Rosie aren't your concern."
"Wrong," she said, her eyes hard. "I couldn't care less about the baby, but when you fuck over Maggie, you're going to lose your business manager, which is going to disrupt your production. That is my concern."
"I'm not going to fuck over Magnolia," I said. Sloane rolled her eyes.
"Of course you are," she said, laughing a little. "When was the last time you slept with the same woman twice in a row? I've never known you to have a girlfriend. Now you move in with Maggie and think you're what, husband material? Be serious."
"Sloane, you have no clue what you're talking about. I'm not looking to be 'husband material'. I'm still trying to figure out how to be a father. We've got enough going on right now without you trying to complicate it."
"I'm not trying to complicate it, Vance," she said, and the sympathy in her eyes almost seemed genuine.
"I'm trying to simplify it. All you should be worrying about is your art and your business.
Fucking with Magnolia is going to fuck with your business.
It's that simple. End it with her. Get a nanny.
Or make her the nanny. I don't care. She's pretty much your nanny as it is now, anyway. "
"She's not the nanny," I snapped, wondering for the first time if this was how everyone else saw it.
Did the whole world assume I was just fucking Magnolia to get her to help me with Rosie? Is that why they were so curious about whether we were dating?
I shook my head. No way. Maybe Sloane thought that, and Brayden. But if my family thought I was using Magnolia, they would've kicked my ass already. And I knew Magnolia didn't believe that.
I thought about the night before, the way she'd wiped tears from my face and welcomed me into her body. No, Magnolia knew this was about so much more than sex. And so did I.
Sloane could go fuck herself.
"If you need to get laid . . ." Sloane said.
Suggestion dripped from her words as she sauntered across the kitchen, not coming to a stop until she was so close her hips bumped mine.
Too close.
From a distance, Sloane was gorgeous. Shiny black hair, green eyes, cheekbones that could cut glass, long legs, and round, high tits.
She knew how to dress, with class and style, even if her hemlines were a little short and she showed too much cleavage. But up close?
Up close, the illusion fell apart.
Her tits were fake, she was bony, and she wore way too much makeup. Not that I was tempted, but I'd always suspected she'd be a shitty fuck. Way too selfish and self-involved to relax and have fun.
"What are you doing Sloane?" I asked, taking a step to the side to put some space between us. I'd gotten used to the feel of Magnolia's soft, round body pressed to mine. Sloane was a gnawed-on bone in comparison.
"Like I said, I'm trying to simplify things." She took a step to the side herself and laid her palms on my chest, smoothing them up to grip my shoulders, trying to pull me down for a kiss. Not going to happen.
"You think fucking me would simplify things? You're insane."
I grabbed her wrists and peeled her hands off my shoulders, trying to push her back. For someone so skinny, she was strong.
Sloane was shorter than me, the top of her head barely reaching my chin, but she planted her toes on the top of my foot and lunged up, pressing her mouth to mine.
That was it. I was trying to be careful, hadn't wanted to hurt her, but I was done. Fucking done. I pushed her back and stepped away, putting the island between us while she got her balance on her spike heels.
"What?" she said, her over-plucked eyebrows raised in surprise.
"What are you doing? Are you crazy?" At that moment, I was kind of thinking that she was. As if she were a rabid animal who might lunge at any moment, I took another step back.
"It never seemed worth jeopardizing our working arrangement, but I've always wanted you. I thought if you were willing to lower yourself to fuck Maggie Henry, you probably weren't that worried about mixing sex and business, so I thought I'd take a shot."
"You're. Fucking. Fired," I said.
Few words had ever given me such satisfaction.
I'd stayed with Sloane out of apathy. She was a bitch, but she was good at her job. Finding another manager and gallery would be a pain in the ass, but she'd gone way too far.
"What?" she screeched. "You can't fire me. We have a contract."
She was right, we did have a contract. Fortunately for me, I knew the terms of that contract in detail.
"You can expect a letter from me detailing the severance of our business relationship per the terms of the contract," I said.
"Thirty days from receipt of that letter, we will no longer have a business relationship.
Whatever doesn't sell at the show on Friday, you have those thirty days to sell, and then I'll take the work back. "
"Vance, don't overreact. I'm sorry if I was out of line." Sloane took a few hesitant steps toward me, but the look on my face must've stopped her, because she met my eyes and ground to a halt.
"You were way more than out of line, Sloane. I'm done with the way you talk about Magnolia, I'm done with the way you talk about my daughter, and I'm done with your attitude. We'll get through the show together, and then I don't want to see you again. Do you understand?"
She shook her head, dismissing me. "Once you calm down, Vance, you'll change your mind. I won't even hold it against you. I understand you've been under a lot of pressure. We'll just forget we had this conversation."
Not meeting my eyes, she walked around the other side of the island and headed for the door. I let her go without comment.
I wasn't going to change my mind. The hassle of finding a new agent seemed so much less important than never having to see Sloane again.
I pulled up the number of a courier service I'd used a few times and requested that someone come by immediately to pick up and deliver a letter.
Once that was arranged, I headed straight for my laptop and the printer. I wasn't going to waste any time getting out the letter severing our business relationship.
The show was in two days, and I knew well enough that I was going to get distracted. I wanted Sloane taken care of before she could cause any more trouble.