Page 42 of Never Dance with the Devils (Never Say Never #6)

KAYLA

“ T ook you long enough,” I say as my office door opens. I don’t bother glancing over to see who’s entered without an announcement from Angeline. Only Cameron has the balls to try it. Even the FBI probably wouldn’t dare.

“We need to talk.”

“Have a seat,” I tell him, purposefully keeping my attention locked on my computer screen. “I’m almost finished here.” I click around a little more as Cameron sits, not in one of the chairs in front of my desk, but on the couch off to the side of the room.

Well played, Cameron.

He’s as calculating as I am, and the reason I refused to give him my immediate attention is the same reason he’s chosen to sit somewhere that requires me to come to him—power.

Even with his expectant gaze locked on me, I make him wait one more minute before conceding.

When I finally sit down across from him, he frowns.

“We missed you at dinner,” he says evenly .

“Doubtful.” The declaration is delivered stone-faced, setting our adversarial positions.

Sighing as if I’m the one being an obstinate asshole, he asks, “Could we not do the whole back and forth dramatics?”

“Of course. You know where the door is.” I make a move to get up, assuming the conversation over.

“Kayla.” Obviously, I knew he wasn’t going to let this go that easily, but I bristle at the parental tone as he says my name. Still, I settle back in my seat, looking at him without revealing my discomfort. He clenches his jaw but eventually says, “I owe you an apology.”

That is perhaps the most shocking thing he could’ve said, but it’s likely he’s trying to game me. So instead, I look at him warily, searching for his angle. “Was that it? If so, you’re not very good at apologies.”

“You’re right, I’m not.” He shifts stiffly in his seat, obviously uncomfortable.

“But I am sorry. We shouldn’t have come at you en masse .

I apologize for that. We thought we were protecting you in a way—not that you need it,” he rushes to add when I open my mouth to correct him.

“But what you said stuck with me. I kept thinking it over and talking it through with Riley and thinking some more.”

I’m not sure if he wants an award for putting some mental effort into analyzing that shitshow or absolution for his role in it, but I’m not offering either.

Nor am I waiting on pins and needles for him to share his thoughts on the matter when he had no interest in listening to mine.

“You apologized,” I say, holding up one finger to indicate his goals for this meeting.

Adding another, I say, “Is this the section of the agenda where you impart some deep, big brotherly wisdom that changes the trajectory of my life? Cue sappy instrumental music overlay.”

His eyes tighten at my cutting remarks, but as a student of the same lessons Dad gave me, Cameron quickly schools his face back to bland neutrality.

His voice holds steady, eerily calm, as he says, “I never told you thank you after Michelle died, but I know you were there for me. More importantly, I know you were there for Grace, and I appreciate that more than you could ever know. You’ve been there for all of us.

You brushed it off when I said thank you for that, but I meant it, Kayla.

You’ve always been this presence in my life.

Whether I was fucking up or succeeding, you were there for me.

Thank you.” His eyes are clear, his gratitude genuine, and I’m honestly in shock at the growth he’s undergone.

“You’re welcome.” I don’t need ticker tape parades and blubbering gratitude on bended knee, but the acknowledgement is appreciated. And long overdue.

“Agenda item three,” he says, quirking a wry brow. I knew it. Of course he has a plan, I would too. “I have a question.” His leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees to watch me closely as he asks, “Are you okay? I’m not fucking around. I’m being serious. Truly, are you okay?”

I could choose to be offended that he thinks something is wrong with me simply because I’m finally putting my own needs and wants first, but the caring and thoughtful way he asks is unexpected, making me swallow down my reflexively bitchy response. “I don’t know.”

The honesty surprises us both.

“What can I do to help you figure it out? ”

I think the kind offer surprises us even more.

My brother has spent over a decade with two priorities—his daughter and Blue Lake, in that order.

Only recently has Riley taken a place of importance in his life.

And yet, putting energy into helping one of his siblings is a first. Especially me, though that’s mostly because I’m the helper, not the helpee.

I don’t need help. Ever.

Except maybe I do.

“I am happy for you, for all of you. But I’ve been feeling a little left behind, a bit one-dimensional.

” I pause, letting that resonate through my mind, and reluctantly admit to myself that it’s true.

“I met Riggs and Maddox, and they were different. They don’t see me as this ice queen without feelings.

Or a Harrington, with all the baggage that comes with that.

” He doesn’t know about Bradley. That was under Dad’s watch, but he’s well aware of the responsibility that comes with our last name.

“They’re fun, and sometimes, I want to do something just for me. ”

“So is that all this is? Fun?” He tilts his head, considering me carefully.

“Would that be so wrong?” I snap.

“For you?” he asks, his voice lightening a shade. “Yes. Possibly clinically so.”

“Fuck you.” But I can’t help but smile a little.

He’s right, there’s no use in arguing that.

I don’t do fun. I’m serious, focused, singular-minded.

Except lately, I’m not. I’m more , and I like that.

The thought silences me as I fidget with my ring and mull that over, the self-analysis prickly and uncomfortable as I scrutinize the image of myself I’ve created, not only publicly but in my own mind .

“It’s not only for fun, is it?” he guesses, sitting back on the couch with an arm casually stretched out along its back as though this conversation isn’t uncomfortable as fuck. “You tell yourself that it is, but every time you talk to them, it gets deeper, more tangled and confusing, doesn’t it?”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” I say, staring into eyes that are jarringly similar to my own. “You and Riley?”

He nods solemnly. “I was a shell of a man for a long time. I’m better now, thanks to her.

Feeling that difference so acutely?" He flinches like he can still feel the echoes of his former self. “Let’s just say the last thing I would ever wish on anyone, least of all you, is for you to feel alone. So if they help you feel differently, I support that. I don’t understand it…

at all. But I support you. Unequivocally. ”

The small moment feels huge, healing a rift I don’t think either of us realized existed between us. Not trusting myself to speak, I nod once, acknowledging his words.

“You just couldn’t make it easy on yourself, though, could you?

” He chuckles. “I’m sure there are a dozen guys who’d line up to date the infamous Kayla Harrington, who’d treat you like a queen and let you boss them around like the bitch you like to be.

” His grin grows as he teases me, and I flip him off in return.

“But no, you had to go find two… two ,” he repeats, more emphatically, “Neanderthals who beat up on people for a living while chasing a puck around the ice, to what… fulfill some kinky fantasy?”

There’s no shame in his words, just a desire to understand what the hell I’m doing. Well, that makes two of us.

I smile slightly. “It’s not about the sex.” He tilts his head, his brows lifted doubtfully. “Okay, not only about the sex. Which is mind-blowing.”

He flinches, wincing at the unintended enthusiasm in my voice. “Could we not talk about that?”

I smile bigger. “Deal. It’s more than that. Or I think it is.” My eyes drift off as I think through what I’m feeling, trying to put it into words. “I can relax with them. Like you said, guys want to date The Kayla Harrington, but to Riggs and Maddox, I’m just Kayla.”

“You are never just Kayla, and if you think you are, I have an oceanfront deal in Arizona I’d like to pitch for your personal portfolio.”

I laugh at his version of a joke, then argue, “But I am. They’re not impressed by all the Harrington bullshit, or the Blue Lake prestige.

To them, I’m funny and messy and—” I freeze, reflexively quieting the slip-up exposure of too many weaknesses.

Years of giving carefully curated responses and presenting an image of perfection is a hard habit to break, and even as Cameron seems to be opening up to this new development, I don’t want to reveal too much, trust too soon.

Changing gears, I ask, “Do you know what we did this weekend?”

Cameron winces again, clearly anticipating my answer, and I roll my eyes.

“Not that. Well, okay, that too. But we went to a cabin in the woods. Totally spontaneously, said ‘someday’, and then decided why not now? We drove out to the middle of nowhere, to this cute little place with no Wi-Fi or fancy luxuries. Just the three of us. We stargazed, hiked, and took a breath.” My eyes close wistfully as I remember the sanctuary of the last few days, and I take another deep breath before slowly exhaling, wishing I were back at that cabin.

When I open my eyes again, I finish by saying, “It was the best weekend I’ve had in years. ”

It’s not an adequate explanation for the shift that happened inside me over the weekend, but I don’t know how to say it so Cameron will understand.

I’ve spent my entire life living for this company, for this family, much the way my father and brother did.

I’ve been so intent on proving myself worthy that I never created a life outside those boundaries. And now, I want to. I am.