Page 18 of Take What You Want

The words blur in front of me and I quickly blink the tears back, refusing to let him see them.

Jane Walker doesn’t cry over Nikolai Brooks. Hasn’t in many years.

I’m at peace with what has happened and the decisions he made. I just hope he is too, because whether he will ever acknowledge it or not, his words that night, or lack thereof, shaped us irrevocably.

6

NIKOLAI

Over eleven years of history sit between us as heavy as this table. Years of friendship, then more, then hurt, then nothing, then tentative trust and back to friends.

It all plays out on Jane’s face as she guzzles her wine and leans back.

She looks good.

She’s nevernotlooked good to me. She’s always been the most beautiful woman in the room, even when she doesn’t realize it.

But as the years have passed, she’s grown into herself more. She’s less tentative about taking up the space around her and has stopped wearing clothes that hide her curves rather than clinging to them.

Like what she’s wearing right now. Her black dress looks almost painted on with a higher neckline that still does nothing to conceal her cleavage.Lucky for me. Paired with a signature pair of heels that make her already long legs stretch for miles, I could drink her in all night.

She tucks her hair behind her ear, the thick, black, glossy curtain still covering one of her shoulders. You wouldn’t guessit by looking at her that she spent almost six hours on a flight today, after working this morning.

But that’s the thing about Jane.

She’s always had her shit together.

At least for appearance’s sake.

“Anyways,” she says, fiddling with the stack of papers. “Do you have any revisions to those sections, or can you keep it in your pants and be professional?”

She tries to play it off like a joke, but I don’t miss the hint of bitterness and jealousy that simmers beneath the surface. My cheeks flush at the image she’s seen of me over the years. The imageeveryonehas of me.

I twirl one of my rings around my fingers, just to give myself something to do. “Yes. That’s all in the past.”

She gives me a disbelieving look.

“I swear. I don’t want that kind of bullshit in my life anymore.”

“What bullshit? Love?” she snarks.

I never loved any of them.

The words are on the tip of my tongue, but something stops me from telling her. It’s not like any of it would make a difference at this point. It can’t rewrite the past.

“I know I’ve earned my reputation, but it’s one I want to change with this fresh start,” I say, leaning forward. She eyes me critically, trying to figure out if I’m being sincere.

You know me better than they do, Jane,I plead with her silently.

Do I?she asks.

The title of being a player, or a fuck boy, isn’t one that I wear with pride. I don’t relish it, but I’ve also never made an effort to disprove it.

When I moved to LA and Whisper Me Nothings gained traction, I definitely indulged myself. Attention has always beensomething I’ve enjoyed, and I was getting it from women nonstop. All of us loved it.

After the shooting though…that’s when things took a turn for me. Icouldn’trecognize it that time. But looking back, I know it was all a part of my spiral.

I never set out to hurt any of the women that I’ve been with. Each and every time I found myself falling for them, I didn’t tell them I love them, only to take it back as soon as it wore off because I thought it was some sort of game.

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