Page 47 of The Toy Maker (The Pink Cherrie #1)

THIRTY-NINE

POV JASON

I searched the crowd, knowing Kitty would be hiding among the guests, probably thinking I wouldn’t make a scene. She was wrong. I spotted her huddled between a businessman on his way home from work and a woman in a rave costume.

“You have two seconds to explain why Tara is up at that table.” My voice came out rough, but Kitty just shrugged. It was a sick irony, really, that I had sent her up there minutes before, so sure she’d back down on her own.

She was testing me, pushing boundaries, and I had been so damn certain she wouldn’t go through with it. But now she was on that stage, spread out like a fucking offering, laid bare before a man I suddenly couldn’t remember why I ever tolerated.

“We were down a Cherry,” Kitty responded, pretending to be bored. She was loving this. I wasn’t surprised. Ever since she was dumped by her ex, Olivia, she’d been particularly cruel.

I gritted my teeth. “So fill in yourself.” It wouldn’t have been hard. There were plenty of women in the building who would’ve jumped at the chance.

Hell, I could have picked out four replacements in under three minutes. I wasn’t sure why, but the longer a Cherry worked for me, the easier it was to convince them to participate in the elaborate shows.

But no, Kitty had chosen Tara, the one girl who shouldn’t be up there.

And I didn’t want to know why it bothered me.

Kitty smirked. “Does it bug you that much?” She was the only one who never backed down and never let me have my way without a fight, except for Tara.

And even after witnessing me fuck her friend, she was challenging me. Kitty stood her ground, arms crossed, chin tilted upward in defiance. The dim lighting caught the sharp gleam in her eyes.

I felt my mouth twitch before I wiped the expression from my face. “I care very much, yes.” The words came out clipped, but Kitty’s grin stretched wider, like she had just won something. “I care that you put one of the most inexperienced girls we have up there without even running it by me first.”

“Oh, come on.” She snorted. “You’re full of shit, and you know it.”

I took a step closer, enough that she had to tilt her head back to keep her gaze locked with mine. “And you’re not?” I challenged.

Kitty didn’t flinch. “No, you don’t get to hold Olivia over my head,” she shot back, her grip tightening around the clipboard she was clutching like a shield. “You need to be honest with yourself.”

My jaw tightened. “Honest about what?”

“Caring about her,” she fired back.

I inhaled sharply through my nose, but it did nothing to dull the sudden, unwanted thrum of something heavy in my chest. Kitty wasn’t just pushing my buttons—she was tearing straight through the walls I had spent years building.

And the worst part? She was right.

But I couldn’t let her know that.

Not now. Not ever.

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “I’m going to say this one more time because you seem to have trouble grasping it. I don’t care about Tara.”

The words tasted like ash in my mouth.

I had spent hours with her, days, and Tara still hadn’t worn down, still hadn’t bent to me the way the others did. And the more time it took for her to realize she hated me, the more I realized that I didn’t want her to.

“Fine,” Kitty said, clutching her clipboard like it could protect her. “That doesn’t change the fact that we needed her up there.”

“You could have chosen someone else.”

Kitty gave a casual shrug. “Nobody else wanted the job.”

“That’s your problem.” I hired her to make my life easier, not harder.

“No,” she said, tilting her head. “Apparently, it’s yours.”

I glared at her, but I didn’t have time to argue. The introduction had to be made.

I turned on my heel, weaving through the crowd.

My heart pounded, and my grip tightened around the mic as I signaled to the sound booth. If I let myself think about it too much, I would’ve gone straight for Tara and pulled her down from that over-decorated table myself.

The introduction came out smooth, practiced, but hollow. And when I finally finished, I spoke the last word like a confession.

“Amen.”

The crowd erupted into cheers, but I didn’t hear them.

I decided I was in hell, and I fucking deserved it.

Slipping through the crowd, I moved to the back, arms crossed, jaw clenched. From here, I had the perfect vantage point to see just how terrible this skit was.

It was just as awful as I’d expected—cringeworthy, desperate, an insult to the concept of seduction. I was about to leave, avoiding the feast entirely, but Kitty was faster. She stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

“Where are you going?” she demanded.

“The back,” I sneered, my patience running dangerously thin. “I have work to do.”

She placed a hand on my chest, stopping me. My jaw ticked. Kitty had always been a pest, always knowing exactly how to push my buttons. Probably because we had grown up under the same roof, spent years circling each other in the same dysfunctional family, learning about each other’s weaknesses.

And as my stepsister, she knew exactly where to poke and prod to get a reaction.

“You want to prove you don’t love her?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then watch. I dare you.”

I’d rather burn alive. I scoffed. “This isn’t a game.”

Kitty placed her hands on her hips as if that could intimidate me. “If you do this, I’ll never bring it up again.”

Ten minutes of pain for a lifetime of peace.

It should have been an easy choice.

My gaze flickered over the crowd, and my breath caught. Sam’s hands were on her. His lips brushed against her skin, claiming something that wasn’t his.

Something he didn’t deserve to touch.

I could push him aside so easily. He was nothing. A momentary obstacle. I could storm onto that stage, rip her from his grasp, and make sure everyone in this goddamn room knew exactly who she belonged to.

A sharp pain flared in my chest as I turned away. “I’ll be in the back.”

Kitty barely had time to react before I shoved past her, disappearing into the darkness before I did something I couldn’t take back.

I buried myself in my work, letting the steady hum of the drill drown out the roaring crowd outside.

It wasn’t hard to be the man people expected me to be—the man who fucked without feeling, who kept things easy and disposable.

Until Tara.

Until the way she looked at me made my chest ache in a way I didn’t want to name. Until the sound of her laughter settled in my bones, until the idea of her walking away felt like a slow death.

But before Tara, there was Anna.

And Anna had ruined me first.

I thought I had moved on, thought I had hardened myself enough that she couldn’t get to me anymore. But when Kitty knocked on my door the other night, everything crumbled.

Anna was hurt.

And I needed to be with her.

But my cock was already buried in Tara’s throat.

Shame twisted in my stomach at the memory. Anna had never loved me, not really. Not unless she had her hands wrapped tight around my strings, controlling every movement, every decision, every breath.

Her love had been conditional, suffocating, like a chain around my throat. But Tara…

Tara made me feel something else entirely. Something terrifying. Something whole.

I shook away the thought, forcing my focus back to the present. The moans filtering through the walls of my workshop grew louder, grating against my nerves. I could almost tune them out if I concentrated.

Almost.

Then came the frantic knocking. It was probably Kitty, returning with a vengeance. She could pound the door until her fists bled. I wasn’t watching Tara with Sam. Even my masochism had limits.

“I’m busy,” I called flatly.

“You open this fucking door, or so help me, I’ll kick it down and then put my foot up your ass!” the voice on the other end shouted.

That wasn’t Kitty.

I marched to the door, ready to rip into whoever was stupid enough to piss me off, but the second I swung it open, the words died in my throat. Three familiar faces waited in front of me—two filled with worry, and the other unconscious.

Time slowed as Ethan rushed past me with Tara cradled in his arms. The story tumbled from Jade’s lips, but I barely heard a word.

“Is she—” I stumbled over my own thoughts.

“Unconscious,” Jade confirmed. “That idiot choked her.”

My fingers curled into my palms, my gaze refusing to settle on Tara’s limp body.

She was dangling in the arms of my supposed best friend, a better man, and a dull ache ran down my spine.

I turned and stormed out, ready to find the bastard responsible.

Love, the pain in the ass that it was, had caught up with me.

And this time, there was no running from it.