Page 36 of Never Dance with the Devils
My lips lift in sly grin. “Hey.” It might sound like I’m playing it cool, but in the next instant, I’ve swooped Kayla into my arms. She makes a whooping cry of surprise and I swallow the sound, stealing her mouth with a kiss. When I have to come up for air, I stare at her like she’s a mirage for a second before touching my nose to hers. “You’re here.”
“I’m here,” she echoes.
Her version of the two little words seem much heavier than my foolish excitement and I search her face, looking for some clue to what she’s thinking.
“Did you order dinner without me, fucker?” Maddox shouts from somewhere in the house. And then, fromclose enough to spot our surprise guest, he drawls out, “Well, hello there, Miss Thang. What’re you doing here?”
Kayla is pulled from my arms, and I watch as her smile grows before disappearing as Maddox kisses her. He’s smooth with it too, walking backward as he leads her deeper into the house. I close the door with a jagged breath, a smile trying to form on my lips.
Kayla’s here. No chasing necessary. That’s got to mean something, right?
Slow down, asshole. Don’t go putting meaning onto shit for other people just because it means something to you.The reminder doesn’t work. Hope is already starting to work its roots in deep, making its way through the scarred layers of my heart. And hope is the most dangerous emotion as far as I’m concerned.
“Riggs’s room or my room? Or you looking to get fucked right here?” Maddox is asking her as I follow them into the living room. He’s in full charmer mode, eyes bright and cocky smirk in place, even teasingly giving the back of the couch a little pat like it’s a used car on a sales lot.
Smart man is downplaying what I’m already building up in my head, keeping the mood light and sexy. It’s probably for Kayla’s benefit, a way to show her that we’re not putting pressure on her, but it’s as much a warning for me. He understands me too well and knows how hard I was already falling. And now she’s here, and I’m falling harder.
And yeah, I’m also hard at the idea of Kayla bent over the couch, so thanks for that imagery.
“Hot tub,” Kayla tells Maddox, but then she holds up a finger, “to soak. I had another one of those shitty days.Do you have scotch?” She looks around like a liquor cabinet might materialize.
“On it,” I answer, already opening a door to pull out a bottle.
“Wantto talk about the shitty day or leave it in the dust of your past?” Maddox asks Kayla a few minutes later, waving his fingers through the air like the dust is floating away as he speaks.
We’ve all gotten naked, slid into the heated, bubbly water with her seated between us, and have a drink in our hands—Kayla, scotch and me and Maddox, beers. Across the back yard, the patio lights are on, the warm glow letting me see Kayla’s face even though the night is dark, with the moon nothing more than a sliver in the black sky.
“I came here thinking I wanted to rehash it all out and hear you agree with how I handled things, but the truth is, it’s just the same shit, different day.” She waves a hand dismissively, slinging a few water droplets with the move. “Some guy thinks women, myself included, should be grateful to be in his presence simply because he’s got a penis and a fat wallet. And no amount of talking about it is going to rid the world of assholes like that.” She huffs out a heavy sigh, her eyes rolling in annoyance.
“Not talking about it won’t fix it either,” Maddox counters. “They should be called on their bullshit.”
“You sound like my brother, Chance,” she says, a smile trying to tilt the corners of her lips up. That always happens when she talksabout her family.
“He’s the podcast one, right?” I ask, checking my mental notes. “With a fraternity sorta thing he leads?”
Kayla looks at me fully, her smile growing. “Yeah, that’s him. He fights the red pill boys’ club mentality bullshit on the front lines, with the young men coming up into adulthood. Unfortunately, that means I’m mostly left fighting the ones who’re too set in their ways to learn new tricks. Usually, I can use it against them, beat them at their own game when they underestimate me. But it’s still tiresome.” She lifts her glass. “But did I get the deal done? Fuck yes, and that’s what matters.” She takes a sip, then admits, “Well, almost done. But it was a productive meeting, even ifBrentis a slimy, chauvinistic asshole.”
“I don’t even know who that is, but please tell me you called him that to his face,” Maddox begs, his eyes dancing.
Hiding a smile behind her glass, she purrs, “Pretty much.”
I’m still stuck on Brent’s name coming out of her mouth in that sneering, angry way. She’s celebrating a deal, or a potential deal, but whatever this guy said or did today hurt her. Somewhere beneath the tough surface she fastidiously maintains, deep down in the tender places she hides protectively, it got to her. I suspect there are a number of Brents in her past, all leaving tiny, irritating marks on her heart. What’s that saying? Death by a thousand paper cuts, or something like that? That’s what this is, what her anger is. Pain. I know that emotion and that mask too well myself.
“How’d you end up as such a bigshot at Blue Lake?” I ask. Her eyes jerk to mine, instantly looking for an insult she won’t find because I’m not doubting her placethere. No, what I’m hoping for is that in telling us, it’ll remind her how amazing she is and help soothe that secret hurt from today much better than us just hyping her up and putting Brent in the pine box he deserves to be in.
She sets her glass on the edge of the hot tub decking and moves her arms through the bubbly water. “God, when wasn’t I at Blue Lake? Even as a kid, I wanted to go with Dad to the office, or sit with him while he worked at home. I’d pretend to do homework but would really listen to his phone calls, and when he’d step out for a minute, I’d sit in his chair, imagining I was the boss while I’d look at the spreadsheets and contracts on his desk, not understanding them in the slightest. By high school, I was taking every class I could about business and economics, but also psychology and corporate sociology. Success isn’t solely about numbers. It’s about people—reading them, figuring out what they want, and delivering that in a way that’s beneficial for you too.”
The way she says that makes it sound like she’s quoting someone. Her father, maybe? Or a professor?
“Of course, I went to college and internships, especially the one at Blue Lake after graduation, which was tough. It is for everyone—that’s why it’s so sought after—but Dad explicitly directed everyone not to take it easy on me because of who I was. They mostly took that to mean I was fair game, so that was a rough year, to put it lightly, but I survived. More importantly, I learned. I worked my way up, studying every move Dad, Cameron, and my other mentors made, cataloguing and analyzing them. It’s been a fast trajectory up the corporate ladder, and plenty of people think it's only because of my last name, but I wasn’t handed a damn thing. Daddoesn’t work like that, and he sure doesn’t express love that way. I’ve had to earn every deal I’ve closed, work for every title, and deserve every bit of responsibility.” She shrugs like she hasn’t just listed out a lifetime’s worth of successes already.
“Damn, that is so hot.” Maddox’s growl is teasing, but he’s serious, looking at Kayla like she’s sexy as fuck, even though only her bare shoulders are exposed. She laughs lightly like she thinks he’s kidding.
“He’s right, you know?” I say sincerely. “You knew what you wanted, fought hard to achieve it, and keep putting in the work every day. That’s beautiful.”
“I believe I said hot,” Maddox corrects, holding a finger up.
Not letting him waylay me, I continue, “And assholes like Brent don’t get to take that away from you because they’re too blind to see beneath your pretty exterior to the truly good stuff, and they’re probably too lazy to put in that much work themselves, just depending on their penis and wallet to get ahead because it’s all they have to offer.”