Page 118 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

KIERA

N olan stalks out of the room. I stare at his departing back, but I don’t call out to him; I don’t ask him to stop. A voice whispers that I owe both him and Caleb an apology, but my head swims and thoughts buzz around my mind like a swarm of angry bees, and I can’t process anything.

Bianca is still alive.

For a long time, I sit on the couch. Eventually, there’s a knock on the door. “Kiera?” Dixie calls. “Are you okay?”

She’s my best friend, but right now, I can’t face her. I can’t face anyone. I get up, my knees shaky, and crack open the door. “I’m fine,” I lie.

Concern is written all over her face. “I saw Caleb stalk out of here an hour ago. Nolan wasn’t too far behind. What happened?”

Whatever this was… it’s over.

I swallow back the lump in my throat. How can I possibly be thinking of them at a time like this?

How can I be looking at tonight with an acute sense of regret, wishing I could rewind time and have a do-over?

Everything—my thoughts, my focus, my heartache—should be reserved for Bianca.

A sister I unwittingly abandoned when she needed me the most. “I just need to be alone. Go home, Dixie. Please.”

The Wednesday after my disastrous Saturday night, I get a brief text from Caleb. ‘Write your sister a note,’ it says. ‘Leave it with Henri. Bianca is being watched twenty-four-seven, and it’ll take time to make contact, but I’ll get it to her.’

Leave it with Henri. He doesn’t even want to see me.

I do as he says. A week passes. Neither Caleb nor Nolan make an appearance at Club M.

I tell myself that it doesn’t matter—the only thing that matters is Bianca—but I’m not very convincing.

There’s a dull, ever-present ache in my chest. Fiona does her promised scene at the club the following Saturday, and when I see the way Brody and Adrian look at her, love shining in their eyes, tenderness in every caress, I can’t breathe.

Tears prickle in the corners of my eyes, and I have to take an unplanned break.

“What’s going on with you?” Farid asks when I get back. “You haven’t been yourself all week.”

“It’s nothing,” I lie. “It must be PMS.”

Like every guy in the world, the topic of PMS makes Farid edge away.

I drown myself in work. I pick up every spare shift. Walmart finally has air-conditioners in stock again, and I install a window unit in my apartment, willing the memories of that first night in Caleb’s pool to fade.

I’m working a Thursday afternoon shift in the cafe that’s attached to the club when Dixie finds me.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she says. Her voice is matter of fact, not accusing, but from the set of her jaw, I know I can’t put her off any longer.

“You sent me that bombshell of an email, telling me your sister is still alive. You didn’t answer any of my emails; you ignored my texts.

That ends today. I’m all caught up with my work.

It’s a nice, sunny afternoon. I’m going to hang out here until you talk to me. ”

If I’m being perfectly honest, I’m glad she’s here. “My shift ends in fifteen minutes.”

Twenty minutes later, I join her on the patio.

It’s blazingly hot, and the cafe is almost empty.

Only two tables are occupied by guests, and they’ve both chosen the air-conditioned interior.

A wise choice. The sun beats down on us, and even though I’ve slathered myself with sunscreen, I feel myself start to burn.

“You’re very persistent. Has anyone ever told you that?”

She grins. “Xavier called me a bulldog today, so yes, I have heard it before.”

“He did?” That doesn’t sound like Mr. Leforte, who is always unfailingly polite.

“I asked him about some credit card transactions in Thailand, and it clearly touched a nerve. He threw me out of his office.” She shrugs, unconcerned. “He’ll get over his snit.”

“Speaking of snits… what’s the deal between you and those two guys at the club? Hunter and…”

“Eric,” she bites out. “Nothing’s the deal. I don’t have any patience with fragile male egos, that’s all.”

“That’s a non-answer, and we both know it.”

“You’re changing the subject.” She takes a sip of her iced tea. “I’ve been able to piece together most of what happened that evening. Caleb and Nolan told you Bianca was alive?”

I nod.

“And you were in shock.”

“Yes.”

“And the reason both Caleb and Nolan looked pissed as hell when they left the club that night?”

A dull ache fills my heart. “They thought—correctly—that I was using them for information.”

She leans forward. “Here’s what I don’t understand, Kiera. Why did you do it? You were attracted to Caleb and Nolan. You knew that they weren't working with the Russian Mafia. You knew they were trustworthy.”

Yes. I had known. On some deep, instinctive level, I had always felt like I could trust them. That’s why I’d gone over to Caleb’s house that first night. “I guess so.”

She gives me a frustrated look. “You wouldn’t discuss it with Fiona and me; you shut us down when we tried to talk you out of it. You don’t normally make stupid decisions, but this one was monumentally dumb. Why did you scene with them?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course, it does. You found out your sister’s alive, and instead of being happy, you’re walking around looking like you found out you have a terminal illness.” A shadow passes over her face, and I know she’s thinking of her mother. “It clearly matters to you. So, tell me why.”

I cast around for an explanation. “It was just supposed to be one night. According to Xavier, Nolan and Caleb don’t do relationships. Besides, Caleb flirts with everyone.” I shrug, uncomfortable with where my thoughts are leading me. “I guess on some level, I thought it wouldn’t matter to them.”

Dixie’s eyes rest on me. “Caleb might flirt with every woman in the place, but does he scene with any of them?”

I search my memory, but I can’t find anything. In the last six months, maybe even longer, Caleb shows up at the club, comes up to the bar, and orders an obscure drink. If someone approaches him, he talks to them, but otherwise, he seems happy enough nursing his drink and talking to me.

Oh.

“Exactly.” Dixie interprets my shock correctly. “The man likes you.”

“He liked me.” Until I ruined everything. “Nothing would have come of it anyway. He’s in billionaire-territory, and so is Nolan. I’m a bartender. We’re from different worlds.”

“Hmm.” Dixie’s eyes sharpen. “You’re right. Let’s look at the evidence, shall we? Maddox Wake, who is either a billionaire or pretty darn close, is in a relationship with who? Oh right, Avery. Is Avery wealthy?”

Dix is wasting her time with corporate law. She should have been a litigator.

“Brody and Adrian are wealthy,” she continues. “Who are they with? Fiona.”

“Fine.” I hold up my hands in surrender. “Maybe my theory is a little flawed.”

“You think?” She arches an eyebrow. “Try again, Kiera. Why didn’t you just ask them outright about your sister? Why did you sabotage what might have been a chance of happiness?”

“I’m not interesting. Fiona and Avery have fancy degrees. I barely graduated from high school.”

Dixie gives me her patented ‘you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me-how-dumb-are-you’ look.

“I’ve never heard something so ridiculous in my life.

More than half the people in my graduating class are crushing bores, and some of the most interesting people I know never went to college.

My mother didn’t. One has nothing to do with the other.

” She looks exasperated. “Caleb keeps asking you for obscure cocktails. How do you know how to make them?”

“He has a thing for pre-prohibition cocktails,” I reply. “I bought a recipe book and memorized its contents.”

“Aha.”

“I’m just doing my job.”

She rolls her eyes. “Didn’t you say that Farid is going to Barcelona because he’s an architecture buff? What’s he looking forward to seeing most?”

Where is she going with this? “The Sagrada Familia, Gaudi’s unfinished cathedral.” I’d looked it up when Farid had announced his trip. “He worked on it for forty-three years, and it was only a quarter done when he died.” I take a sip of my water. “He was run over by a tram. Poor guy.”

“Mhm.”

Dix’s smile is smug. I know exactly what she's thinking, and it drives me up the wall. “Stop it,” I tell her. “It's not going to happen, okay? Even if they did like me, I can’t let anything come of it.”

“Why?”

The lawn is blurry. I blink away the tears that obscure my vision.

“I failed Bianca. Because of me, she got killed.

Or so I thought. And now I find out that she's not dead, and she's the girlfriend of some mobster. I can't even imagine what she's been through in the last eight years. What she’s had to do to survive.” I swallow hard. “I caused that. I could have dug deeper into the truth, but I didn’t. I believed the cops when they told me she was dead. This is all my fault, don’t you understand? I don't deserve to be happy.”

Dixie looks sad. She puts her hand on mine. “I pieced together a few things,” she says, her voice soft. “Your mother died when you were twenty-one. If I’m calculating the timeline correctly, she died right before this happened, didn’t she?”

“Five months.”

“Your mother died, and you had to take care of your sister.”

Dixie’s my friend. It’s her job to put the best possible interpretation on this situation, but I can’t let her. “My mother wasn’t much of a parent. I’ve always had to take care of Bianca.”

“Bianca was a minor. Did CPS get involved when your mother died?”

“Yes. I had to prove that I was fit to take care of her, otherwise, they would have put her in foster care. I had to show them I was making enough money, that I was stable enough to provide her a good home… The caseworker they assigned us was very conscientious. She wanted to place Bianca in a two-parent household.” I feel the tears well up again.

What the hell is wrong with me? I never cry.

“Bianca was terrified. So was I. Neither of us knew how to navigate the system.”

Dixie’s voice is gentle. “You had to deal with all of that. And at the same time, the asshole was grooming Bianca. Kiera, she was targeted. You were just twenty-one. What happened was awful, but it wasn’t your fault.”

“I don’t…”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she repeats, cutting me off. “Everyone deserves happiness, Kiera, you more than anyone else. It's there within your grasp. I saw the way Nolan looked at you. I saw the expression on his face when he came out. I've never seen him look like that.”

“Like what? We just met. None of this makes sense.”

“Attraction, connection, it doesn't always make sense,” she agrees. “But I’ll tell you what I saw. You have the start of something special. What's happening between the three of you, it's like a little seedling. You can decide to crush it to the ground, or you can nurture it.”

I’m about to reply when the patio door slides open. Xavier Leforte strides toward us, holding a manila envelope in his hands. He’s dressed in navy linen pants, and his white shirt is untucked. I’ve never seen him look so casual before.

He nods to Dixie. “I owe you an apology. I was rude.”

She waves it away. “It happens to the best of us. A bottle of Veuve Clicquot will soothe my feelings.”

His lips curve into a smile. “Clicquot? God, no. I’ll have Henri fetch up a bottle of Krug Clos du Mesnil from my personal cellar.” He turns to me. “I was hoping to run into you, Kiera. You’re not working tonight, are you?”

“No.”

“Great. Could you do me a favor, please?” He holds out the envelope. “On your way home, could you drop this envelope off with Caleb Reeves? He’s expecting it. He’ll be at Andrews Park until eight tonight.”

“Andrews Park?” Dixie is biting back her smile. “Does Caleb live in that neighborhood?”

“No, I believe he’s there because he coaches his niece’s soccer team.”

My heart hammers in my chest. I stare at the envelope Xavier’s holding out to me. See Caleb on my way home? I’m not ready for it.

Except Xavier warned me not to get too involved, and I ignored him and got involved anyway, and if I protest, he’ll get to the bottom of what happened at the club, and he’ll probably fire me.

“Okay.”