Page 19 of Mr. Wrong
He opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of grapefruit juice and sets it on the counter. “Ms. Pierce is on her way,” he says, totally ignoring what I just said. “I’ll be here for the initialintroduction but I have a production meeting at 10:30 so I’ll need you to facilitate the transition.”
“Initial introduction?” I have this insane urge to grab him and shake the shit out of him. “Facilitate the transition? Are you even listening to yourself? She’s a little girl.Your daughter,” I remind him, my tone forcing him to look me in the eye. “You can’t just drop something like this on her. I’m the only—”
My tirade is cut short by the shrill ringing of the landline, its short bursts signaling that there is someone at the gate, requesting entry. Landon picks up the phone, exchanges a few words with whoever is on the other end of it and punches in the code that opens the gate.
“I know what she is,” he says, hanging up the phone. “And I’ll admit that I didn’t handle this the way I should have, but I don’t regret my decision. This is what’s best, for all of us.”
“Why?” It’s a carbon copy of the fight we had last night. Knowing that, and that nothing I have to say will change anything doesn’t shut me up. It pushes me. Makes me loud and reckless. “Because I can’t give her what she needs?”
“No,” he practically shouts back at me. “You can’t—neither of us can.” I expect him to follow the same bullshit line of reasoning he tried to feed me last night—that it’s time to start focusing on Cassie’s education. That I’m not qualified to help her prepare for the next phase of her life—but he doesn’t. “You. Me. Killian. Seth. She’s spent her entire life surrounded by men.”
“So?” By some miracle I manage to not mention the fact that he doesn’t count because he’s never here.
He swipes an exasperated hand over his face and shakes his head at me like he can’t believe I’m being so thick-headed. “So, she needs awomanin her life, Lex.”
I feel the floor tilt under my feet and my gut clench. “She has Greta.” It might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever said. Greta is Cassie’s over-night nanny/housekeeper and more like a blue-haired, knitting drill sergeant than an actual woman. “She loves Greta.”
“Okay.” Landon swipes a rough hand over his face and shakes his head. “Let me be more specific—she needs a woman who was bornaftercolor TV became a thing.”
“She’ssix, Lando.” I must be desperate because I haven’t called himLandosince we were kids and bothStar Warsnuts. “All I’m asking for is one more summer with her. You owe me that much. Just a few—”
“She needs more than you can give her.” He picks up the bottle of grapefruit juice only to slam it back down on the counter. “Someone she can identify with. She needs a—”
“Mother.”
He looks at me like I just stabbed him, his mouth going slack, his face pale. I’ve never brought up Rachel before. Not like this, and I instantly regret it. She was Landon’s wife but she was my friend. My best friend. Knowing I just used her as a weapon between us makes me want to punch myself in the face.
Before either of us can say anything else, the doorbell rings.
“I’ll answer the door,” he says, the shock and grief instantly wiped from his face, like the pain of losing his wife is something he can just brush off like dirt. “You go get Cass—”
“Fuck that,” I say, shaking my head while I skirt the kitchen island between us. Bringing up Rachel was a dick move but like I said, I’m not doing my brother’s dirty work. It was his decision to replace me with Mary-fucking-Poppins, he can be the one to break it to his daughter. “I’ll answer the door whileyougo get Cassie. You have some explaining to do.”
Thirteen
Ellenore
After the cabspits me back onto the sidewalk and pulls away, I sit on the curb for what feels like an eternity, telling myself that this is wrong. That this has to be a mistake. There’s no way that the one time I decide to break all the rules and engage in a night of anonymous sex, that I choose to do it with Landon Trask’sbrother.
I mean, that’s what Lex said last night, right? That his brother owned the house. If this is Landon Trask’s house then that would make Lex his brother.
Right?
It also means he lied to me.
He told me that his brother owned the bar we met in last night.
I don’t even realize that I’m sitting until I feel my ass hit the sidewalk and even though I know that it’s grossly inappropriate for me to sit on the curb outside what is presumably the compound of the hottest actor in Hollywood—who just happens to be my new boss—I can’t seem to make myself get up. The street looks quiet. Secluded, but I can practically feel the crawlof security cameras across my skin. Sooner, rather than later, someone is going to call the police on the barefoot weirdo sitting in the street.
Still telling myself that this is a mistake, that I remembered the address wrong or that I’ve suffered some sort of catastrophic head injury and am in a coma, I pull myself up and force my feet to shuffle over to the ivy-covered gate I just passed through. Set in the gate is a keypad and speaker. One of the buttons sayscall.
Pressing it, I hold my breath.
“Yes?”
I stare at the speaker, long enough for the man on the other end of it to repeat his question.
“Yes?”
