The Perfect Fit: A stand-alone why choose romance

He takes hold of my right hand and places it over his heart, then puts his on top of it. “It’s okay, baby doll.”


I swallow the sob that wells in my throat and lay my head on his broad chest. We lie together without speaking for a long time, his heart thumping against my palm and his fingertips trailing gently up and down my spine.

“Who hurt you, buttercup?” he asks, cutting through the silence like his blade sliced through my skin.

A lone tear rolls down my cheek. “Someone who should have protected me.”

His arms band tighter around me. “Did what we just did help?”

“It did, yeah. Kind of cathartic. Is that strange?”

“Not at all. But where is he now? The man who hurt you?”

I almost tell him the truth. It wants to pour out of me like syrup from a jug, slow and deliberate. But I can’t. “He no longer exists in the life I’ve built for myself.” Before he can question me further on my vague answer, I add, “Who hurt you, Zeke?”

“Someone who should have known better.” He lets out a deep sigh, and I think that’s going to be the end of the conversation, but he keeps talking. “He was my foster brother and the first guy I ever loved. At least I thought I loved him, but I had no idea what that really meant back then. He was nineteen, and I thought the sun rose and set with him.” He gives a self-deprecating laugh.

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen.”

My heart breaks for a young adolescent Zeke. “What happened?”

“Turns out he was just experimenting.” He snorts. “With his sexuality. With his fetish for cutting things open. People get kind of freaked out when their kids start slicing open their family pets, not so much when it’s just the new foster kid.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Don’t be, buttercup. I moved to a new foster home and met West and Fitch, and I made a promise that no one would ever fucking touch me or hurt me again unless I wanted them to.”

I flex my fingertips, feeling the ridges of scars hidden under his beautiful tattoos. I hate that someone hurt him that way. “Thank you for letting me touch you.”

He grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger and angles my head so he can look at my face. “It takes a whole lot of trust to allow someone to slice you open with a knife. Thank you for giving me that.”

I love him so much. “It was beautiful. Thank you.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he stares at me intently, like there’s something he wants to say but can’t. Or won’t.

My stomach growls, and I wrinkle my nose. “You mind if we grab a bite to eat?”

He drops a tender kiss on my forehead. “Whatever my girl needs.”





Chapter

Thirty-Five





WEST


“I know what it means, Mason, just get it done.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I want all the paperwork complete by the fifth. We go live on the sixth.”

“Okay, West. I’ll have it pushed through.”

“Thank you.” Sighing, I hang up. Merging three media companies into one conglomerate is turning out to be a way bigger headache than I anticipated.

“You okay there, buddy? You need a little relief?” Zeke asks with a wicked grin. He’s so much more relaxed now that Lily’s in our life. Whatever happened between them the night before last changed them both. I saw the wound over her ribcage, so I know he cut her, and it seems like it brought them closer together.

I should get her over here and make her work from my office all day every day. Have her at my disposal so she can offer me some of that relief Zeke’s hinting at whenever the fuck I like.

Instead, I arch an eyebrow at Zeke. “Are you offering?”

He tilts his head, his eyes roaming over my body. “I could give you something, but probably not what you’re looking for right now.”

“Mr. Archer.” My secretary’s voice fills the room via the intercom on my desk. “You have a visitor.”

I check my watch. I’m not expecting anyone, but my heart rate kicks up a notch. Please be Lily. I press the button to answer. “Who is it?”

“A Ms. Reid.”

“Oh, fuck no,” Zeke grumbles.

“Bree Reid?”

“Yes, sir.”

I take my finger off the button so Zeke and I can speak privately. “What the fuck is she doing here?”

“Fuck knows. But I don’t want to see her,” Zeke says, his lip curled in disgust. “She’s fucking loco.”

I glance between him and the phone on my desk. Curiosity wins out. “Send her in.”

Zeke groans and mumbles something unintelligible under his breath.

“Oh, stop your fucking grumbling.”

Bree walks into my office in a cloud of perfume clutching a Hermès bag over her arm. I offer her a seat, which she accepts, throwing Zeke a look dripping with disdain as she settles in the chair. He glowers at her in return.

“What can I do for you, Bree?” I ask, forcing a smile.

“Actually.” She crosses her legs, and her short skirt rides up, exposing the top of her stockings. I focus on her face. “I’m here about what I can do for you.”

Interest piqued, I lean forward, steepling my hands under my chin. “And what’s that?”

“I’m kind of surprised you don’t already know this to be honest. You must be getting rusty, Ezekiel.” She throws a glance his way, and her fake laugh drips sarcasm and contempt.

He snarls. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

She glances at her manicured fingernails. “You usually check out the women you experiment with, don’t you?”

My temper flares. “Is this about Lily?”

“Yes. Well, if that’s even her real name.”

Zeke leans forward now too, his dark eyes shooting daggers at Bree. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how an orphan from Brooklyn can afford to go to one of the most prestigious colleges in New York.”

I frown. “She had a scholarship.”

Bree shakes her head. “Did she though? Because the organization that paid her tuition dissolved as soon as she graduated, and it only ever funded one student—Lily Sloane. What kind of scholarship does that?

“She never had a job, either. Not the entire time we were there. Someone was funding her lifestyle, paying her bills. She used to sneak off to meet him sometimes. I caught a glimpse of him once. Young. Handsome. Rich. She couldn’t keep her hands off him.”

I snarl. Bree always had a jealous streak, and that’s all this is. It has to be. “How the fuck do you know any of this?”

“I followed her on one of her little excursions once. I was curious about what she was up to, and I was the sorority house president. I had access to information that other people didn’t.”

“Weren’t you screwing the dean too?” Zeke asks, his tone dripping with contempt.

She smirks. “See, you did such good homework on me, Ezekiel.”

I scrub a hand through my hair as questions with no answers race around my head. “Why are you even telling us this? Why do you care if Lily has some mysterious benefactor?”

“Because I care about Xander, and I would never want to see his name dragged through the mud.”

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