Page 17 of Black Ties and White Lies

There’s a speck of humor in his eyes as he leans deeper into the hand that holds his head. “You would’ve had that if you called me. Sorry, but duty calls. I need to return to New York tomorrow. I’d much have preferred tonight, but I’m being generous and giving you the evening. But that’s as far as my generosity goes. You’ll be leaving with me tomorrow since you’re supposed to be in the office with me Monday morning.”

I anxiously pick at my cuticles. I normally take a week to pack for a long weekend. How the hell am I supposed to pack for uprooting my life and moving halfway across the country in one night?

My mind reels as a thought pops into my head. “If you had my address, then you had my number.”

He shows off his perfectly straight white teeth when he grins. “This seems way more efficient.”

My argument stays in my throat as Ezra pulls up to the apartment complex. Beck must’ve really done his research, because we even pull up to the correct building. Ezra puts the SUV in park as Beck and I have a silent stare off. I refuse to look away from him. I may have signed away the next year of my life to him, but he doesn’t just get to tell me at the last minute to pack all my things and move away tomorrow.

“I’m not leaving tomorrow.”

“How else do you plan to get to New York by Monday morning?”

He’s got a point. But I refuse to let him win this one. He’s steamrolled into my life suddenly and taken control of everything. I want some of that control back, even if it’s in the form of determining when I move to New York and begin this charade I’m going to take part in.

“I’ll get a flight on my own,” I answer confidently. It’ll probably drain my entire bank account to do so, but I’m prepared to do it just to win this battle with him.

He grunts in disgust. “I’m not allowing you to fly coach.” He sayscoachthe way someone talks about bed bugs or lice. Like it’s the most disgusting thing on the planet. I, for one, have found some coach flights quite delightful. A bag of pretzelsanda cookie? That’s pure luxury.

“Your entitlement is showing,” I snap as Ezra gets out of the car. He clearly doesn’t want to have to listen to Beck and I battle it out.I wouldn’t either if I were him.

Beck clenches his jaw, something I’m learning he does a lot. It seems he’s in a constant state of anger when he’s with me. I’m not trying to push his buttons. I just don’t want him to think he can show up at my job on my last day and then have the audacity to pack my things and force me to get on a jet with him tomorrow.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, he slides across the leather, moving the briefcase that acted as a barrier between us. He crowds me with his body, even as I try to scoot away from him. My back presses into the door. I have nowhere to go. I don’t even have anywhere to look but into his dark, stormy, indigo eyes.

He presses his palm into the window by my head. Our thighs press against one another, no other parts of our bodies touching. “I’m not letting the woman who is about to be my fiancée fly coach when I own a private jet.”

“Plenty of people fly it every day.”

He grinds his teeth, fire in his eyes. “Plenty of people aren’t you.”

Fuck.

No.

The way Beck looks at me right now makes me want to agree to anything he says. There’s concern, but also determination. I know without a shadow of a doubt that this is a battle I won’t win. It doesn’t matter anyway. Right now what I want to battle is my heart, because it liked him saying “plenty of people aren’t you”a littletoo much.

“Go pack, Margo.”

This close to him, I marvel at how his porcelain skin doesn’t have a trace of any facial hair. I wonder if he freshly shaved this morning, or perhaps it doesn’t show well because he has blond hair. In my head, I’m already creating a mental list of the things I need to pack and what I’ll leave behind for my friends. But I don’t want him to know that. Pushing his buttons, getting him riled up and seeing that muscle in his jaw tick is much more fun.

“No.”

He smacks the glass next to my head, making me jump. Tearing himself away from me, he tosses his door open like it’s the thing that’s pissed him off. I don’t have time to even gather my thoughts before he’s ripping my car door open. His large hands catch me underneath my armpits, saving me from falling flat on my ass in front of both him and Ezra.

Even after I gain my footing Beck leaves one of his hands on me. It trails down a few inches until he’s holding me by the bicep. I try to yank it free, but his fingers keep their firm grasp.

“Let go,” I demand.

Instead of listening to me, he tightens his fingers, pulling me in the direction of my apartment building. “After you,” he growls, completely calm and collected no matter how many times I try to pull my arm from him.

Finally, I yank hard enough to get my arm free. But looking at him from the corner of my eye, noting the smug look on his face, I wonder if he let go because he didn’t want to deal with me fussing a second longer.

“You’re not coming with me.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, but then you started acting like a child, so now I’ll be coming in and helping you pack so you’ll be ready to catch a flight.Tomorrow.”

His tone makes it obvious there’s no reason for me to argue, but it doesn’t stop me from trying one last time.

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