Page 123 of Misrule
He should never have gone over to Mortician’s house this morning. Or, at least, so early. He’d challenged Mortician and…and ruined his relationship with the woman he loved as much as life itself. Worse, he’d spewed pure venom at her, when he’d meant none of it.
How could he make her forgive him? How could he express how absolutely sorry he was? Even as he was yelling at her, his words—along with regret—began to sink in. They’d been unworthy of him, her, and their relationship. Yet, they’d kept coming, as if he had no control. His heart had told him to stop. His anger, pride and frustration egged him on. He’d only thought of her lame reasons for placating Mortician. His ego suffered that she hadn’t missed him enough to arrange another secret meeting. Either at the clubhouse or at her quarters. Fuck, his self-respect smartedbecausetheir meetings had to be in secret.
All her words,reasons, had seemed like excuses. That she’d said the same thing time and again should’ve alerted him that this really was an issue for her. He should’ve looked for ways to put her at ease. Damn it, he should’velistenedto her and just went along with Mortician.
His phone indicated an incoming text message. Listlessly, he picked it up. Roxanne. Calling him a motherfucker as only she could? If he wasn’t so desperate to stay connected to her, he would’ve ignored the text. It would kill him to read how much she hated him. Seeing a text message from her felt like a lifeline, no matter what she wrote, so he opened it.
For your own safety, tell everyone I ended our engagement.
She had, though, so why would he lie about it?
You did, he responded. The words nauseated him, made him dizzy. Another piece of his heart shattered.
So I did. Just don’t tell them why. You will die.
Oh. Right. Mortician would kill him for all the things he’d said to Roxanne. More than that…Outlaw.
In some mystifying way, he respected Outlaw’s…intelligence…?...instinct…?...suspicious nature…?What about the man drew him to accept cases and even take his advice? He sounded so ignorant and acted so belligerent.
Maybe, it just came down to plain, old envy. Outlaw said what he wanted,did what he wanted, wherever and whenever. Women found the brute overwhelmingly gorgeous and sexy. Knox wasn’t pulling this from his ass, either. He’d overhead conversations during parties at the club. Whether they feared him or were fascinated by him, women wanted to fuck him. Because of his intense green eyes…his silky black hair…his height…his muscles…blah, bla-blah, blah, blah.
Roxanne was a woman. Had she ever seen him as more than just a friend? More than just anadoptedson?
The man every woman wanted had boughtKnox’slady a custom-made Navigator.
Added to that insult was the fact that his upbringing forbade him the same freedom of expression that Outlaw was known for.
Sighing, Knox glanced at the wall clock in his office. He’d been here for an hour and hadn’t gotten one thing done. Thoughts of Roxanne consumed him. He’d fucked up so bad.
Roxanne was a proud, no-nonsense woman and he’d hurt her to the depth of her soul. He’d mocked her. Bullied her. Berated her.
His phone lay silent. He hoped for her forgiveness, yet he couldn’t fathom the words he, himself, had spoken. To humiliate and crush. He should be killed. Closing his eyes, he willed another message to come through from her. But, nothing. Unable to stand the thought she’d shut him out, he decided to take a risk. She’d taught him how to be more open and to show his feelings. Grabbing his phone, he started typing words poured from his heart.
I’m so, so sorry, Roxanne. Please forgive me. Give me another chance. I’ll do anything you ask of me to prove how much I love you. Please. I’m begging you.
Just when he thought she wouldn’t respond, her reply came.
Forgiven.
The one word instilled such hope in him that he released a laugh-sob.
Then you’ll take my ring back? I love you.
Another long stretch before she answered.
No. We’re through. We don’t belong together, Knox. We’re too different. You want a prenup. I don’t. You hate my family. I don’t. You’re rich. I’m just a gold digger.
Knox winced. He’d been a sonofabitch. He hated himself as he never had before. He’d do anything to rewind the clock and take the words back. Impossible, he knew. Once said, the spoken word could never be recalled.
Please, he typed.
I can’t.
He shuddered at the simple words.
I’m so sorry, Roxanne.
Me, too, Knox.
