Page 66 of Iron Heart

“Excellent.I’ll have Marie come around with a selection of outfits and book in hair and makeup.”

“Great,” I respond, excited to get glammed up again.

“Oh, and you’re seated next to Justin Cole…”

I roll my eyes.Lexy has always thought it ideal to match the country singer, Justin, and me together.He’s easy on the eyes and very talented, but he’s not what I need, not what I want deep in my bones.

“Can’t wait,” I respond sarcastically.

“Huh!See you soon!”she says and hangs up.

I close my laptop with a decisive snap and pack my things into my bag.It’s time to go.

Stepping outside, I spot Kingsley looking serious, his eyes finally meeting mine.He’s on the phone, and by the looks of it, he’s not thrilled.He ends the call quickly and strides over to me.

“That was Lexy.Why are we going back to New York when you have another session scheduled with Dr.Deidra tomorrow?”Annoyance seeps through his words.

“I need to get back.I have an awards show in two days, and I’m feeling better,” I say, offering a casual shrug.His gaze—those seriously piercing eyes—lock onto mine.“I’ll do the session with Dr.Deidra tomorrow via Zoom,” I add, recognizing the importance of maintaining my mental health.

“I’m not happy about this,” he mutters.

“Well, I’m not here to please you, Kingsley.”

His jaw clenches, ticking visibly.“No, you’re not.”

“I will collect my things and escort you back to New York, Miss Slater.We will depart in thirty minutes.”

And there it is—walls up, barriers fortified.The brief glimpse of pain in his eyes reflects my own.But I can’t let myself care.If he doesn’t want me, fine.It’s time to guard my heart and put distance between us for both our sakes.

In reality, he needs to be out of my life.I can’t handle having him there but not really there, not the way I need him to be.I need to talk to Lexy about finding a replacement.It’s the only way forward.

23

Kingsley

I’m kicking myself.

I had a stunning woman, one who genuinely wanted me, and the feelings were mutual.All I had to do was take the leap to give in to what we both clearly wanted.But no, I did what I always do—push her away and put walls up, all in a misguided attempt to protect myself from potential pain.I sabotaged us before we even had a chance.

I’m my own worst enemy.

As the car halts at the New York City curb, the glaring city lights seem intrusive compared to the mellow ambiance of the Hamptons.Victoria exits, arms wrapped tightly around herself.A defensive posture against the world, perhaps, or against me.

“Your bags will be sent up, Miss Slater,” I say, my voice laced with a formality that now serves as a fortress around whatever almost bloomed between us.

“Thank you, Kingsley,” she responds, her voice equally devoid of warmth.

She strides away, and despite myself, my eyes follow her.This distance makes me feel ill.But then, who initiated this distance?The irony is not lost on me.

The walk inside is a vacuum of silence filled with words that should be spoken but aren’t.

“I’ll leave you alone,” I finally say, handing her the bags.

“Busy few days ahead,” she replies softly, avoiding my eyes.“Thanks for everything, Kingsley.I really mean it.”

Her words prompt me to look at her fully, and for a fleeting second, I think I glimpse regret.

“You’re welcome,” I say, but the words are void of any real substance.

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