Zed, p.27
Zed, page 27
“It isn’t.”
“I figured, but until you fix the situation with a certain corporate lawyer, there is no respect.
“As for coffee… nope. I’m on strike. Call it an intervention of sorts, but we all agreed that we couldn’t just put up with your grousing anymore. I drew the short straw in having to come talk to you about it, because the rest are pussies.” She spat the word out loudly enough that I knew she was intending for everyone else to hear.
“This is insane!”
“Not as insane as you refusing to swallow your pride and go get your girl.”
“It’s not like that. We’re adults. We mutually came to a decision. We both accept it for what it is. Why can’t you and the rest of the pussies here do the same thing?” I raised my voice the same way she had.
“Because we have to work with you, and because every day since you ‘mutually’ called it off has been like a living hell. To be clear, you’ve been hell.”
As though there was ever any doubt about her meaning.
“Wow, you really are a drama queen, huh?”
“Takes one to know one, right?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I’m disappointed at how butt hurt and childish you’ve been over all of this. Speaking of childish, did you ever contact Xavier and explain why you no longer want him here?”
“I sent him an email. But let’s get something straight while we’re putting everything on the table. Remember that him coming here was never a social thing. It was a punishment. He didn’t want to be here. He had to be.”
“An email? Are you for fucking real? Next time why not send him a telegram and be done with it?”
I was beginning to wonder if I was being Punk’d. I mean, what the hell was wrong with email? It was a perfectly legitimate form of communication. What did she want me to do, build him a motherfucking bear? I zoned back in on what she was saying.
“And as far as the whole ‘it was a punishment’ thing, I think you need to pay more attention to what goes on right under your nose. Sure the whole thing came about that way, and sure he can be a little turd at times, saying and doing things that made us all want to end him, but think about it logically. Does he really strike you as the kind of person who does anything he doesn’t want to do? You can bet your bottom dollar that if he genuinely hadn’t wanted to be here, he wouldn’t have been. Yet not only was he here, but by and large, he got on with whatever bullshit tasks you set out for him to do. I mean, the dragons at that $100K a year school couldn’t elicit that kind of compliance from him. What do you think you could’ve said or done to force him here against his will?”
“So what are you saying?”
“Jesus, really? I’m saying that he liked you. Likes you. Whatever. I think he looked up to you like a big brother figure, especially given that he has none, and his father is both physically and emotionally AWOL. Poor fucker is so lacking in role models, I think he actually respected you.”
God, she could be a bitch when she wanted to, which was most of the time. Strangely, it was one of the things that had always most endeared her to me.
“How did he respond to the email?” She smirked.
“He was cool about it. We’ve been in touch once or twice since. I’m meeting him later today, actually. He wants me to sign a letter of recommendation or something that he needs for college.”
“Okay, that’s good. Give him my love, won’t you?”
I nodded.
“And while I’m dropping home truths like Hansel and Gretel laid that trail of breadcrumbs, I’m just going to come right out and say it. Octavia is in love with you, and you’re in love with her.”
“N—”
She put her hand up as though stopping traffic.
“I don’t remember asking you a question. These are facts. Your choice to deny or disregard them doesn’t make them any less true, and I don’t have time to sit and listen to you lie to both me and yourself.”
39
Vivi
The weeks that followed Xavier’s discharge from the hospital were bizarre, even by my standards. Not the least of reasons being that I didn’t see Zed at all. Not that I was expecting to, of course. Our exchange in the hotel room that night was a pretty definitive end to whatever it was that had been going on between us. What I didn’t anticipate was that after a relatively short time, there would be a large, moody, surly, tattooed-shaped hole in my life where Zed used to be.
I marveled that that could be the case. After all, our last few exchanges had demonstrated that I’d hardly known him. His deep and broody nature wasn’t an affectation—he was genuinely troubled. Understandably, his past had left him scarred, and possibly scared. He had a lot of unresolved issues that he didn’t seem to even want to acknowledge, let alone work toward addressing. It was like he was stuck in a loop of guilt, punishment and virtual self-flagellation. Clearly falling in love and being loved in return didn’t figure in that pathology.
Still, as flawed as he was, I was fast coming to see that Zed was a lot more my kind of person than any of the outwardly “perfect” guys I’d dated in the past. What that perfection had translated to in reality was superficiality, selfishness, vanity, ruthless ambition, and a bunch of other nasty personality traits that I didn’t want in a partner—lying, cheating and backstabbing were all in a day’s work for these guys. None of them would’ve gone to jail to protect their brother, or anyone, for that matter.
If in some freak act of selflessness and compassion they did take a bullet for someone else, while Zed was busy living the adage that no good deed went unpunished, my exes would only consider helping someone out if there was a guaranteed reward that they deemed to be worth their while. For sure they’d be cashing in those chips forever. Guys like that didn’t do someone a solid with zero expectation of payback.
Speaking of odious men, I was “lucky” enough to personally experience Xander Cross’s own inimitable brand of “charm” when he paid me a visit a few days after Xavier’s release from the hospital.
I was hunched over some paperwork at my desk at the time, puzzling over a legal quandary that had been playing on my mind for a few weeks. I’d told Mim, the assistant I shared with Carlene, a senior counsel, that I wasn’t to be disturbed—no calls, no meetings—while I got my head down. It came as a surprise then when my office door banged open and I was “greeted” by the angry face and imposing frame of the man I knew from photos to be Xander Cross, hotly followed by a frantic and flustered Mim, trying to simultaneously apologize for and halt the unsolicited interruption.
“Stay the fuck away from my son, or I’ll sue you from here to China and back.” His voice carried the sure and steady tone of authority that was the trademark of those who never heard the word no.
“I’m sorry. I told him several times he couldn’t just come in here, but—”
“It’s okay, Mim. I know you would’ve done your best.” I was sure she had, but there would have been precious little she could do to stop the force of nature standing before me.
“Shall I call security?”
I carried out a quick appraisal of the man between the two of us, maintaining a bored expression—tall, well built, angry. The answer to that question should probably have been yes, but I waved her away, knowing I was going to have to face the music sooner or later.
“No thanks, Mim, I’ve got this.”
“Really? You’re sure?”
“Positive. Thanks.”
She looked very much unconvinced as she backed uncertainly from the room.
“And you would be…?” I cocked my head to the side and regarded him with detached curiosity, as though having enraged men barge their way into my office was all in a normal day’s work for me.
He faltered, looking momentarily confused. I was sure the concept of someone not having the faintest idea who he was had never even occurred to him. Ha! He was too easy to play, and I hadn’t even gotten warmed up yet.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He looked like a bear that had sat on a hornets’ nest—angry, surprised and confused, in equal measure.
“It means that you have me at a disadvantage. I don’t believe we’ve met, though I gather you already know who I am.”
If there was one thing I knew from dating the string of arrogant assholes I once had, it was that guys like him hated to think they weren’t the center of the fucking universe. Plastering on my fakest Corporate Barbie smile and ignoring the pang of regret that hit me when I thought those words, I walked toward Xander Cross, hand outstretched.
“Octavia Douglas. Mr.…?” The look on his face really was priceless. He’d gone from pissed to Defcon 1 in a matter of seconds.
“Cross. Xander Cross.” He looked at my hand as though I was holding a vial of anthrax, neglecting to shake it. I smiled all the more sweetly.
“Ah, I see. Xavier’s father, I believe?”
He didn’t answer, as I’d known he wouldn’t. He looked around the room, and I let him stand there for just a few more beats than was socially acceptable, knowing it would start to make him feel mildly ridiculous.
“Oh, I am sorry, Mr. Cross, where are my manners? Please do come in and take a seat.” I gestured to one of the seats in front of my desk.
Xander Cross glared at it as though it was already occupied by live snakes and didn’t sit down. Instead, he stood with his legs so far apart that a person would be forgiven for thinking that he was hung like a donkey, with his arms crossed tightly across his barrel of a chest. Classic combative stance.
Oh, so it’s like that, is it, Mr. Cross?
I moved to the front of my desk and perched on it, stretching my legs out in front of me, crossed at the ankle. Classic relaxed stance. The effect being to tell him I was cool, calm, and wholly unfazed in the face of his raging bull routine.
Two can play at that game, Xander.
“Can I offer you some refreshment? Coffee, tea, or something stronger—gin, whiskey, vodka? It’s past midday somewhere in the world, right?”
Mr. Cross shot me a look that suggested he believed my IQ was in the single digits, just the way I wanted it.
“I’ll say it again, as you don’t seem to have heard it the first time: stay the fuck away from Xavier. Or else.”
Oh hell no.
“Excuse me?”
“Leave my son alone. Stop manipulating him and filling his head with bullshit. Or. Else.” He shifted on his feet slightly.
“Or else what?”
“Or else you’re going to regret the day you ever met him.”
“Now, Mr. Cross, I know that’s not a threat, is it? Because that would be not only morally wrong, but also very much illegal.”
“Whatever. Stop grooming my son.” I should have gotten an Oscar for the way I kept my cool, when all I wanted to do was give him a piece of my mind.
“Don’t call him, don’t message him. Nothing.” He took a step closer to me. I, of course, had nowhere to go, as I was already against the desk.
“For the record, I don’t think ‘grooming’ is the word you’re looking for in this context, given that in common usage it would suggest some kind of sexual impropriety on my part.”
“Oh, I choose my words very carefully, Miss Douglas. No mistake.” Of all the dick moves the negligent hypocrite could have pulled, this was low, even by his dubious standards. He thought he was mad. He was about to get schooled if he had really just walked into my office accusing me of sexual misconduct with his seventeen-year-old son.
I may have had a beautifully middle-class upbringing, including amazing private schools, but I had African-American and Irish genes—there was always a small part of me that could get real if I needed to.
“Ms. Douglas. And I can assure you that my contact with Xavier has been of nothing other than a purely professional nature. It has also been secondary to the firm’s relationship with you as the client.” The irony of my outrage at the suggestion when I’d more or less accused Zed of the same thing a few short weeks earlier wasn’t lost on me.
“Is that so?”
I nodded. “It is.”
“Well then why the fuck were you not only the first but the only person he called after the attack?” He took another step forward. He was dominating me physically, and I knew it was no accident. He needed to back the fuck up.
“I rather think that’s a question you need to ask Xavier, Mr. Cross, or better still, yourself as a parent. I most certainly can’t answer it on his behalf. Nor yours. Now if you could please step backward.”
“He’s a minor, and you’re a grown woman. I’m talking to you.” Another step closer.
“And I have explained that I have been nothing but professional in my dealings with your son—a fact I am sure he would corroborate if asked.” Of course, that wasn’t strictly true. There had been nothing of the nature Xander Cross had in mind, but the arrangement with Zed had definitely be unorthodox, to say the least. “I have also asked you to step away.”
“And I have gladly ignored your request. What are you going to do about it?”
“Mr. Cross, this is highly inappropriate. If you don’t step back voluntarily, I will be forced to take measures to protect myself. Consider yourself warned.”
He threw his head back and laughed heartily.
“Is that so, Miss Douglas? You and whose army?”
Is this asshole for real?
He did appear to be, given that with the final word of that sentence, he took yet another step closer, putting himself toe-to-toe with me. He was so close I could smell the bitter tang of coffee on his breath and was almost gagging on the cloud of cologne enveloping me.
He reached up and took a lock of my hair between his fingers. Oh. Hell. No. What a cowardly asshole, attempting to abuse the fact that I was a woman. I was going to have fun helping him regret that move. Far too much fun.
“Mr. Cross.” The warning was clear in my voice.
“Miss Douglas?” The lack of fucks given was apparent in his. He yanked the curl he was holding, and I was done warning him.
Two quick moves later and the tables were very much turned. Despite the obvious difference in height and build, I’d quickly redressed the balance of power between us. I had our positions reversed, with Xavier Cross now facing the door with his back to me in a choke hold, one arm twisted up between his shoulder blades.
“Ouch! Shit. You little bitch!”
I yanked his arm, increasing the pain as I spoke very quietly. “I’d hold still and keep quiet if I were you. Fifth Dan in Karate, black belt in Krav Maga here. I’m going to walk you to the door, and you’re going to step through it without a backward glance. Do as I say, and I’ll be prepared to pretend that none of this ever happened. Are we clear?”
He didn’t move or say a word. I tightened my grip slightly.
“Are. We. Clear?”
That time he nodded. He was a quick study.
“Good.” I walked to the threshold of my office as I said I would. When I got there, I kept my grip a few moments more.
“The next time you think it’s acceptable to make your point or get your way by physically intimidating a woman, think again, you piece of shit.”
I released my grip, and as soon as he’d taken half a step forward, I shoved my office door sharply shut, then leaned against it, sliding to the floor with my legs bent upward. I put my head between my knees, gulping in a few deep breaths, hoping to calm myself—I may have been able to physically master the situation, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a shock to the system.
The whole exchange had been deeply disturbing, from Cross’s allegations to the thought of what he may have done had I not been capable of defending myself. The man was an animal.
I thanked God my father had insisted that all of us girls took karate classes until either we reached black belt or turned eighteen, whichever came first. In the event, most of us had carried on beyond both milestones, and as was the case with me, taken up other disciplines as well.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that not only had I not seen the last of the billionaire tycoon, but that I also really wanted to call Zed to talk about what had just happened, have him wrap me in his arms and help me plot ways to take down Xander “Son of Satan” Cross.
As it was, hugging my knees and wiping the tears from my own cheeks was going to have to suffice.
40
Zed
As I walked into the diner Xavier had arranged to meet in, I knew straightaway that something was off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something just felt wrong. Still, I spotted a table where I directly faced the entrance and sat at it, waiting and wondering about the cause of my unease. I didn’t have long to wait for my answer.
A few moments later, in walked Octavia Douglas looking somewhat harried and stressed. She glanced at her watch and tutted before sweeping the room with her eyes, clearly looking for someone—probably the same someone I had been waiting for.
I saw the exact moment she noticed me. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, and I gave her a tiny shrug, which I hoped conveyed something along the lines of “you and me both.”
I had no more clue what was going on than she did. For an awful moment, I thought she might just turn tail and leave before I even had a chance to explain. I could see in her face that she was considering doing exactly that. Finally she crossed the diner to the table I was at but hovered without sitting.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
I hated the fact that she looked and sounded so distrustful of me. Her body language was killing my life.
I figured I was going to need to be the one to break the ice. “I’m guessing you were asked to meet a certain wayward billionaire man-child here at seven?”
“I was.”
Fuck, she was beautiful. I missed her so much it was tragic.
“Huh. I could be wrong, and maybe he’s been delayed, but I have a strong suspicion we’ve been set up.”
