Cinderella Undone Read online

  “Sandy will be glad,” I say, nodding, never looking up from my screen. “I know she loves being grandma, but everybody deserves a break sometimes.”

  What do I know about kids? Not much, honestly, but I don't think Mrs. Carlisle could ask for a better granddaughter than the sleepy little angel in the other room.

  Jamers bats her eyes, her lips turned sourly. I don't like it one bit.

  “What?”

  “Actually, girl...Knox is picking up Lizzie tonight. He's back in town. Just wrapping up business with Mr. Wright before he heads over.”

  Every muscle in my body stiffens. I keep my eyes glued to the screen, typing gibberish to make myself look busy.

  Remember how I said two years can change everything, and nothing whatsoever?

  That's Knox. He's the same gorgeous shell with the ugly heart.

  The man who decided just leave me the hell alone was far too easy when I tried to be his friend.

  His ugly heart took a sledgehammer to mine, and didn't stop ramming his message home until he'd demolished my teenage crush.

  What happened that night at Danny's party, just a few months after he settled into his life as a single dad...I can't understand it, but it doesn't matter.

  I read him loud and clear.

  No confusion. No tenderness. No mercy.

  It's the past. I can't forgive, forget, or let him get to me a second time.

  The asshole rarely speaks to me anymore since that night, except when he decides to acknowledge my presence in the Carlisle mansion with a snide remark or two for appearances. Thankfully, that's rare.

  I try to avoid him. Usually, it works. He only sticks his head in to pick up his daughter.

  Reality ruined him. It hit after Africa, and wherever the hell he went to look for Sam.

  He's realized he'll be a single dad forever, and the wild child mistake responsible for half of Lizzie's genes is never coming home.

  Nobody on the planet can find her. I think even he's given up, and it's widened the void in his heart.

  “He won't be around long, I'm sure,” Jamers says, stuffing a stick of gum in her mouth. “Seriously, don't be afraid of my brother. He doesn't have time these days for more tricks.”

  Tricks? Not the word I'd use for the poison dart he lodged in my heart. But I haven't told her what he did to me, and I'm not planning to after sitting on it for so long.

  “I'm not afraid. He's different, is all.” I suck in a hurried breath, hoping it'll calm the fire in my blood. “His attitude isn't my problem. I'm just glad he isn't so gruff with Lizzie. It's the only time we see him smile, showing a crack in his armor that says he might still be human.”

  “He's been through a lot, Kay. Not that it's any excuse.”

  “Correction: he never got through it.” I look up, seeing the empathy and sadness lighting up her eyes. She shares a softer version of the same baby blues every Carlisle man, woman, and child seems to inherit.

  “What's the latest news? Nothing?” It's been months since I asked.

  My friend shakes her head slowly. She sits up straight and sniffs, playing with her long black hair. “I think he hired another detective a few weeks ago. Saw him talking to an older man a few times at his place, when ma and me came by to pick up a few heaps of clothes he didn't need for Lizzie anymore. She outgrows the old stuff so fast. We're all about donations for the tax write off.”

  I snort. It's impossible to believe a few old outfits make much difference in this family of multi-millionaires. Then again, her mother has always done things differently since losing her husband. Humility and generosity win her a lot of respect, including mine.

  “Really, there's nothing new,” Jamie says with a sigh. “Just more chasing ghosts. I don't know how he handles it, working with Sam's father everyday. Their relationship isn't the best. Knocking up your boss' daughter will do that. Kind of a miracle Lizzie's turning out as great as she is –“

  She stops mid-sentence. “Hey, creep-o, don't you ever knock?”

  I do a slow turn, and a double take when I see the tall figure standing near the wall. Knox is immaculate, untouched as ever by today's hundred and fifteen degree weather. His crisp grey suit matches the storm on his face, blue eyes focused on us like pins.

  “Not when it's this house. Where's my baby girl?” He casts a demanding glance Jamie's way.

  “In her room sleeping. Where else?” My best friend sticks her tongue out. “In case you hadn't noticed, normal people get baked in this sun.”

  “Baked. I'm sure you know plenty about it, Jamers. I'll let you nap while Sunflower does your homework.”

  I bristle when he calls me that name. Even after half a dozen encounters where he used it over the years, it hurts. “Hello to you, too, ass.”

  The delicious chills Sunflower used to bring are gone, replaced by honest, cruel ice.

  “I haven't written so much as an outline for her this semester, if you want to know the truth,” I say, turning back to my screen. I'm so over him, and yet he somehow makes me blush.

  It's a conditioned response. It isn't real. Not anymore.

  I've learned to hide the redness when it kisses my cheeks.

  It's hard to believe he ever called me a friend, two years and a lifetime ago.

  “I don't care. Long as you're letting my sis sink or swim. It's her degree. I'm sure you're busy, putting yours to work on making Dorothy a new pair of ruby slippers.” He turns, aiming a quick glance at the heels on my screen.

  “Dorothy? You'd have better luck with Cinderella because these shoes are glass,” I say smugly. I've heard both names plenty of times. Always one or the other when he wants to insult my career, everything I've poured my heart and soul into.

  “I'm too old for fairy tales.” It's all he says before I hear his polished shoes hit the tile floor as walks away, refusing to meet Jamie's sympathetic eyes.

  I stare after him even when he's gone, anger burning in my eyes so full it physically hurts.

  “Good reminder I'd better get on my crap tonight now that there's an evening without mom and Lizzie,” she says, reaching for her backpack on the floor.

  I don't say anything, just look at my screen, typing a few more notes. Knox returns a few minutes later, cradling a sleepy little girl in his arms. He stops near the door leading to the garage, the same one he walked out of years ago as the man I used to worship.

  Don't look at him.

  It's as bad as eyeing a solar eclipse, and of course, I do it anyway. There's a different man in my screen's reflection, a mirror darkly reflecting someone else.

  “Come on, peewee. We're going home,” he tells Lizzie, stopping to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead.

  I watch their ghostly outlines. It's just enough to tug on my heartstrings, making me wonder for the thousandth time how much of him is left behind his smirking mask. If there's anything, he saves it for his daughter. She's the only one allowed to reach inside the ice chest holding his heart.

  He murmurs a few more words to her, soft baby things I can't hear. Alien to my ears, coming from his savage lips.

  Then the door creaks open and falls shut with a dull thud. Knox never says goodbye.

  When I look over, my friend is holding her accounting textbook, probably feigning interest in her classes for my benefit.

  “I'm sorry, Kendra. Something's been eating him this last week. More than usual, I mean.”

  “Really? I couldn't tell. He's just as big a dick as he was three months ago.” I'm serious, and more than a little hurt.

  I should be numb to it by now. I shouldn't care. I should believe the little words in my head I started telling myself years ago, when I knew he'd never be the same, and I'd damn well better get over it.

  But we were good to each other, once. That's what makes this hard.

  I remember when we were friends, even if we were never meant to be lovers. I just can't fathom why he's hardened himself to every human being on the planet who isn't his little girl.
r />   Or why he shut me down so coldly when I offered him my warmth.

  Why is it the worst mysteries that always go unsolved?

  “More tea?” Jamers stands, grabbing my glass off the end table next to me, forcing a smile. “It's the least I can do. I've talked to him before about his rude fucking temper. I'm sorry nothing's changed. Someday, if we hold out long enough, maybe he'll be normal again.”

  “Jamers, please. Don't bother. That thing I had for your brother was a long time ago. It isn't like he's hurting my feelings.” Yeah, right. “I've accepted who he is, even if I don't understand why. It's not like we're best friends or anything.”

  “Yeah, yeah, you're a big girl. You don't need my help. Just sayin',” Jamie says as she trots off toward the kitchen.

  It's true. Knox and I aren't friends. Not anymore.

  Nothing good lasts forever, or so they say. And if some things are too amazing to be true, or to last, then the ideal I built up was so vivid it killed me when truth threw its first punch.

  I have no illusions. The older, massive, otherworldly Adonis I came dangerously close to loving isn't there anymore.

  New Knox isn't the man who used to fill my head full of dreams every night, who drove me around town in his first car, or who hugged me so tight it hurt when I threw my arms around him every time he'd lace up his boots and straighten his desert camo fatigues, before he climbed aboard another military plane for the unknown.

  I don't know what's eating him, assuming Jamie is even right and it's more than usual.

  Frankly, I don't care.

  He isn't my problem anymore, and I was never his.

  If he ever really cared – truly, deeply, madly – if our friendship wasn't just a fad or a twisted act, then he never would've slammed his soul shut. He never would've become a pillar of lifeless, self-loathing stone before my eyes.

  He certainly never would've given me those vicious glances bent on making my heart more like his than I'll ever admit.

  2

  Split Rock (Knox)

  “You want more, Victor? Christ. Men broke their backs to bring inventory back here, expecting it to last for years. What happened to the precision cuts? The labs? You told me you had plans, you underhanded son of a –“

  Fuck. I take a deep breath, stopping the insult when it's too little, too late. Everyone heard. They're already cowering.

  The tension is so thick in this board room, it's like being underwater. The career beaks staring at me are all overpaid brains. They stayed behind, crunching numbers and painting fancy graphics on screens, getting on their knees for the tax man. They never busted their asses in those God forsaken places that seem to get darker and uglier every time I visit – and they never risked their lives, and lost, like the three men in my crew last time.

  They never saw the kids, the pain, or touched pure evil.

  Neither did their boss. The animal in the prim suit in front of me never shows any outward emotion. He stares through his stone cold mask, his nostrils flaring once, before he says the words I'd stake my fortune on predicting. “Everybody out, please. I need a moment alone with Mr. Carlisle.”

  I'm able to put a cork in my rage, for the company's sake, while they clear the room. Then, as soon as the door shuts behind the last man, I'm done. Pop goes the fucking weasel. “Mr. Carlisle was my father, asshole. You can start calling me Knox, and remembering we're family.”

  “Please, don't bring our personal issues here. This is business, pure and simple. As you'll recall, I never made any strict guarantees about how inventory would be divided. I made inquiries with the labs in question, and had a whole team studying the latest growth and precision cutting techniques, but diamonds aren't people, Knox. You can't just make them appear from nothing.”

  “Now, who's getting personal?” I ball my fists under the table, eyes fixed on him like an eagle as he sighs, reaches into his pocket for a royal purple handkerchief, and wipes the sweat beading on his brow.

  No sympathy. He still thinks I'm a murderer, or at least an accessory, and he's the one who's sweating?

  “You told me you'd stretch our resources. Invest in new technologies. Spare us from more of these goddamn missions. I don't see you doing anything except pissing money away, gearing up to risk more blood. I told you about the kids.”

  “Ah, yes, the infamous debriefing. I read the summary, but not the details. This isn't an emotional business, man.”

  “It's more than hearts and minds when you put boots on the ground. It's people's lives.” I want to add prick to the end of my sentence. So bad I bite down on my tongue, tasting blood.

  “Yes, yes, and that's where you come in,” he says, folding his hands neatly in front of him. “Nobody leads better acquisitions than you. We'd have a lot more men to replace if it weren't for your very specific talents learned in the service.”

  I don't say anything. I can't believe my own ears. This self-righteous fuck is sucking up to me now? Pretending I don't see right through his flimsy gratitude, his little pep talk about my 'unique place' in this business? That's the phrase he's used since I filled my old man's seat at this table.

  “I don't think I'm asking the world, Knox. You're serving this company as best you're able, putting your special talents to work. You weren't ready for a place in this board room years ago. But neither of us could've planned for Martin's untimely passing, the shakeups that came after, or your...rather earnest interest in overseeing high level strategy for Black Rhino.”

  “I've earned my place here, so you can stop trying to cut me down. You deal with me, not my father.” I try not to let the asshole get to me. I catch myself before I freeze up sometimes, thinking about my twenty-first birthday, when dad had a heart attack in front of us.

  He hit the floor without so much as a goodbye. The paramedics never had a chance. I bawled my eyes out like a kid half my age for the next week.

  That day, I learned mortality. A week later, I swore I'd never be like that fucking liar. Not after I found the letters in his office. Each sealed and addressed to a woman I'd never heard of.

  Judy. A name as anonymous as it is infuriating, and I have zero desire to change it.

  Dad left behind a secret mistress and a fake life. That was his legacy.

  If only he'd left better lessons. I wish the rat bastard taught me sooner that sitting at the table with Victor Wright is bad news, and I should have treated his screwed up, missing daughter like kryptonite from day one.

  “Careful, boy. You've earned an executive position, yes, but you're not a full partner,” Victor reminds me. “Per the terms of your father's trust and our charter, that doesn't happen for a few more years. Not until you've proven your worth to this company. So, as you'll recall, that means I have to sit here and listen to your input on how we should trim our diamonds to nubs and hike our prices. My obligations end with listening, Knox. As the final, sole, and senior decision maker in this company, I think I'll let you flail around in your pathetic rage, while I make the hard decisions about what's best for the organization.”

  “My share's late again, too. Should've gotten my deposit weeks ago.” My hands go together under the table, bulging. Where the fuck is it? I want to say, but I've already shown him he still has a disgusting amount of power over me.

  Eight million dollars doesn't fall down a black hole, except when I have to beg this man like a dog.

  “Ah, so that's what this is about.” Victor smiles, his high end dental implants almost as white as his hair. “Your chief concern is always with yourself, isn't it? If I didn't have to tolerate your presence on the board, I'd keep you delegated to acquisitions and mail your check without any need for these lovely chats. That's where you belong, boy. We both know. Down in the dirt. Building fresh callouses on your hands. You're not your father. He gave you an open road to a good school and a sensible way up the ladder.”

  He pauses, smiling. “Shall we remember what happened next?”

  “Go ahead,” I snarl, swallowing the
lump of black hate stuck in my throat. “Then we can take another trip down memory lane, and remember how your whore of a daughter never did a damn thing for Lizzie except serve as her incubator.”

  His smile is gone. I'm not done. “You heard me. I've been waiting a long time to say it to your face. I'd spend whole days here cursing her fucking name in front of you, if only we didn't have to drain the bad blood between us once or twice a year, long enough for a family photo. If you weren't my little girl's grandfather, I'd –“

  No. Stop. I have to, before making any threats he could use against me in a court of law.

  Damn, if it isn't hard to shut up.

  “Tell me, Knox. I'd love to know precisely what you have in mind.” He reaches up, adjusting his tie, a monstrous smirk hanging on his lips. “Would you like to go out back and take care of this right now? Perhaps I'll let you have your way, push my face into the dirt, knock my teeth out like the pea-brained barbarian you always were. And to think, Martin used to drink himself stupid some evenings after hours, worrying himself to an early grave over your teenage hijinks. Say...”

  I've never hated the slow, tense drawl in a man's voice so much. I'm not going to like what this heartless fuck has to say next. I know it'll take everything I've got not to take the bait into punching him out right here.

  “Sometimes, just between us, I wonder if all that worry for you is what caused his heart attack? A man of his class can only take so much with a son like you.”

  I bolt up, sending the chair flying behind me on its wheels. It crashes against the wall, something that slows my descent on him just long enough to wonder why he's pressing my buttons so blatantly.

  It should rub me worse than it does. But he doesn't know dad left me sick with his secrets, and I'll stop just short of ruining my life defending his name.

  “Name what you really want, asshole? This isn't working.”

  Victor leans back in his overstuffed chair, the nasty glint in his eye growing. They're a rich hazel color, almost gold. So different from the eyes my little girl got from me, it's hard to believe this bastard is related. “Frankly, I'd like you to learn you're place. You're a charity case, Knox. A leather boot very good at kicking up dust and diamonds when we need fresh inventory, and less whining. If you're telling me you won't do what you're best at – wheeling and dealing with third world scum who'd love to slit your throat – then I'd love for you to drop the pretenses. Realize you're no equal. Take your measly seven figures, make me a buyout offer, and get the hell out. Become a real dad to our Lizzie without screwing her up. Stay out of my boardroom, begging for scraps you don't deserve.”