Big Bad John (Bigger in Texas Series) (26 page)

The Knights did like to keep it all in the family. Most of the time.

Her place was only three floors beneath her cousin’s penthouse in case she was needed at a moment’s notice, so she had an amazing view of the river from her balcony. She loved the view. And she really loved this room.

The rest of the large apartment was pristine and simple.  A dining area she’d turned into workout room, a functional kitchen, and a comfortable sofa she could lounge and read on when she had a moment to spare. She was too busy for entertaining and she rarely brought anyone home, so there had never been any reason to go all out in the decorating department.

The bedroom was another story. Pure fancy on her part. A rich, dark Moroccan headboard, a canopy of sheer scarves, and a king size bed covered with a colorful quilt made of saris. It was, she knew, straight out of
Arabian Nights
. But she used to dream about having a bed like this when she was younger and overly romantic. And now she did.

Of course, the bed still needed something. Something no designer, no matter how limitless the budget, could find for her—the right man.
That
part of the dream was on an indefinite pause.

The photography that covered the walls had been her dream too. What she’d gone to school for. They were images of the city she loved filled with people and moments in time that had moved her.

A young boy dancing in front of a crumbling project that he and too many others called home. A couple kissing beside Crown Fountain at night, with one of the projected faces the fountain was known for seeming to look down in approval. A jazz musician at the infamous Green Mill Cocktail Lounge wiping his brow after pouring his heart into the last set of the night, ignoring the standing ovation in the blurred background.

Marley smiled when her gaze landed on the next black-and-white image. It was the lower back and left hip of a young woman in a fancy dress with pearls draped down her spine. She was being tattooed by a rough, weathered old man in a dingy, crowded parlor. This was Marley’s favorite piece.

Holly would probably pass out if she saw it hanging on the wall with the others. It didn’t show her face, and no one could possibly recognize her unless they’d done a thorough study of the small of her back. Still, she would no doubt be mortified to know that she’d been one of Marley’s earliest subjects. Particularly during her one wild night of rebellion. The night Marley had turned eighteen and begged her to break the family’s rules to come to her party.

To be honest, she’d probably never lay eyes on it, since she hadn’t come for a visit in all the time that Marley had lived here. Not that she blamed her. Her cousin was simply too busy running the world. She should know—she was the one who made sure Holly had everything she needed to keep her grip on the reins. Getting her out in the first place had been a damn Christmas miracle.

She bit her lip, thinking of the list they’d made last night. Holly’s bucket list. Thirty-nine things she would do if she could—from kinky sexual fantasies to something as simple as buying a slice of pizza—and several things Marley hadn’t gotten a chance to see. All the things Holly would do if she weren’t still living in the shadow of the long dead Knight family patriarch. If she didn’t have to be perfect.

Marley scowled, shaking off the memories of her uncle, and turned away. That’s when she saw it. The small, framed photo she kept on her dresser. It was partially hidden behind a bowl filled with jewelry and a cinnamon scented candle, but the simple, silver frame beckoned to her. Her feet took her there without any conscious decision on her part, and her hands reached out to touch it.

She heard music and the Bluetooth, still attached to her ear, vibrated. “Fuck.”

She reached up to push the button. “Talk to me.”

An older man, a hesitant smile in his voice, was speaking. “Ms. Knight-Williams? Ms. Marley, is that you?”

“Frost?” She frowned. “I’m sorry, I usually only use this phone for work. Did I give you this number?”

The man chuckled. “You must be busy if you don’t remember, so I won’t keep you. It’s just…well, someone is here—”

Douglas with the box of invitations? “Already?” She looked down at her workout bra and yoga pants. She was soaked. “I can’t come down at the moment. Could you do me a huge favor and have it sent up to me?”

“It?” Frost sounded startled. “Are you sure, Ms. Marley? I’m not entirely convinced that’s wise. Would you rather I send him away until you’re…more prepared?”

Marley smiled quizzically. “You’re sweet to worry, Frost, but I’m fine. I know I wasn’t at my best last night when you helped me out of the car.” That must have been when she’d given him her number. “But it takes more than a few margaritas to keep me from my work. Just send it up.”

“Yes ma’am,” he rumbled, his voice—as it had since she’d met Chapman’s temporary replacement—making her smile. “If you say so.”

She hung up and slipped the earpiece off, setting it on the dresser. She could have sworn Douglas was at the office, but he must have been driving while they were on the phone. She gazed longingly at the bathroom door that led to her shower before turning on her heel and striding to the kitchen. Water. She needed more water. Maybe some aspirin. She had a long day ahead of her.

Holly would get to lounge with her cat Fezziwig in the blessedly silent penthouse, spending the day preparing to be brilliant for the playboy closer with the old-fashioned name—but even though that meant Marley got to work from home, she still had things to do. Fun things like declining a hundred or so invitations for her boss to holiday functions and charity concerts…and no doubt yet another card from Holly’s sister, Fan, inviting her to her family’s home on Christmas Day. She hated saying no to her most of all.

The same way she disliked turning Fan’s son Tim away when he called to see if his young aunt was available to talk. She never was. Tim had lived in the same building for months now, and Marley could count the number of times they’d all seen each other face to face.

Marley knew the young entrepreneur didn’t need the apartment Holly had given him in the towers. He’d made his own fortune, could live anywhere he wanted to. What he seemed to want, however, was the one thing he couldn’t get. A conversation with his Aunt Holly. But she understood, more than anyone, why Holly did it. Why she avoided Tim and Fan. In a way, she understood even better than her cousin could.

Marley had made a competitive sport out of running away.

She opened her water bottle and took a deep drink, thinking about that picture again. The one on her dresser. She could see the image as clearly as if she were staring at it now. Two young men holding her in the air between them, all of them laughing and bundled up against the cold. Carlos and Michael. They stood in front of the boxing club Michael’s grandfather had opened long before any of them were born. Taken a few days before the Christmas dance—the night Marley would remember until the day she died—it showed a girl she hardly recognized. Someone full of joy and possibility. Someone fearless.

God, had she ever been that girl? The girl that had somehow won the complete attention of those two beautiful boys?

She should have gotten rid of the picture ages ago, the last bit of physical evidence of that period of her life, but she could never seem to part with it. Masochism must run in the family, she thought with a rueful grimace. Masochism, red hair and an inability to move on.

She’d
moved on. Technically. She’d gone to college in California, spent some time in San Francisco and Oregon, working as a waitress and a bartender even though she didn’t have to. Her biological father came from a family nearly as wealthy as the Knights. She had a trust that was paid into without fail every year, though she hadn’t seen her father or any of the Hoffmans since she was a child. He didn’t do warm fuzzy fatherhood, he’d told her once, but he’d never stopped adding to her trust. As if money mattered more than family. As if it mattered at all.

While she was away she’d tried not to touch it, preferring to work instead. To forget who she was and what she’d left behind. Everything and everyone—with the exception of Holly—was relegated to the past, never to be thought of again.

She’d stayed away for years. When her cousin called, Marley would tell her that she was just doing it for the experience. Taking pictures for a show that would never happen. For a magazine she would never submit to. Being in the world. And she had been.

But she’d also been running away. She was self-aware enough to know that. Just never brave enough to change it.

When she came home a few years ago for a visit, Holly had immediately offered her a job. And Marley—despite her honed fight or flight instincts—had agreed. She still wasn’t sure why. Maybe because she’d just gotten out of a relationship or because Holly looked like she needed to smile more. Maybe it was simply because Marley had missed her home. Whatever the case, it did keep her busy. Keep her focused. If the powerful Holly Knight had no time to rest, it meant her assistant wouldn’t either. And that was a good thing.

No rest for the wicked.

She jumped and nearly dropped her water when a pounding knock rattled the door. Frost must have sent up someone from the concierge station in the lobby. Whoever it was sounded impatient.

Marley leaned over the couch on her way to the door and dug her hand in her purse, searching for money for a tip. She pulled out a twenty and felt it crinkle as she closed her fingers, knowing that she had to try, even though they always turned her down. Her stepfather would roll over in his grave if she didn’t.

“Thank you so much for bringing the box—” She looked up and the words jammed in her throat.

Michael.

His smile was grim. “For bringing the boxer? No problem…Ms. Knight-
Williams
, is it? But you should step back and let him in now. He’s in a fighting mood and he doesn’t need an audience.”

She shivered, drinking in the sight of him, the scent as he brushed past her and headed into the living room as if he’d been invited. As if he belonged there. That same confidence. That same control.

There were changes. She could still see the boy she’d known in his piercing blue eyes, his short dark curls and full lower lip. But now he was…more. Harder. Broader in his shoulders, with a stronger jaw. As handsome as ever, but no longer smiling. No longer laughing at her with those beautiful eyes. All she read in his expression when he turned to watch her, standing frozen at the door, was determination, anger and disbelief.

The part of her that had held the reins for nearly two decades, the protective part that covered up her old wounds and forbidden desires to help her forget? She could hear it whispering one word over and over again.

Run.

His gaze narrowed as if he’d read her mind and his thick denim-encased legs brought him swiftly to her side. Never taking his eyes from her, he reached over her head and shut the door with a finality that sent her heart racing.

“What’s the matter, Marley?” His voice had the same whiskey rasp that used to make her thighs quake. Still made them quake. “Weren’t expecting the ghost of Christmas past? You did tell your funny little doorman to send me up. Though I don’t think he approves of me.”

Marley shook her head. She’d never expected to see him again. She’d imagined it a million times, but never expected it.

She tried to talk but her throat was closed. Her arms lifted and she crossed them over her chest, suddenly aware of her state of undress, her disheveled hair and flushed face free of makeup. Why was he here? Why now?

Finally she pushed the question past her lips. “How did you find me?”

Michael laughed then, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “Sure. Of course you’d ask that. Because how would
anyone
guess that a Knight was living in Dickens Towers? I mean, really, what are the odds?”

She stared at him in silence until he relented. “Your cousin stands out in my neighborhood, babe. So do you. Marco noticed you as you were weaving out of his establishment.” Michael shrugged. “I didn’t believe him when he called me, but I suppose that makes me the jackass, doesn’t it? For thinking you’d let us know you were back in town.”

Shit. She’d forgotten. As a rule you could be faceless in this city, nameless. You were lost in the crowd of teeming masses. Unless you were from a particular section of the South Side. The section she’d lived in for six years. Marley had always been amazed at the network of gossips and busybodies that informed her parents of practically every move—every mistake—she made. But Marco? She hadn’t imagined he would still be around. Hadn’t he wanted to be a doctor? She should have made sure. Shouldn’t have gone to that restaurant at all.

This was too surreal. It felt like a dream. An uncomfortable, painful dream. “Why?”

Michael’s jaw tensed, still close enough for her to feel the heat of his body, stare at the wet droplets on his leather jacket that had been snow only moments before. She couldn’t look into his eyes. Not when he was within touching distance. Kissing distance.

“Why?” she repeated.

“Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think I had to,” he muttered roughly. “You made it clear where you stood a long time ago. I suppose it was too much to hope for...”

He paused and turned away from her, running a hand through his dark curls. “We used to be friends, Marley. Do you remember that? When we were friends?”

“Yes.” Don’t cry, she warned herself as she bit her lip. Don’t cry yet. Not now. Not until he leaves. “I remember.”

“Funny. I was sure you didn’t.” He shook his head, looking at her over his shoulder with a momentary expression so lost, so haunted, she almost reached out to him. “When you left, things changed. They do that after this many years, I know, things change. But I’m talking about Shakespeare. And now? Well, now it’s gotten worse.”

Carlos
? Shakespeare had been Michael’s adolescent nickname for the handsome youth who always had his nose in a book. The one who’d always been there for her. Who’d never let her down. She tensed. “You’re here because of Carlos? What’s gotten worse?”