"It's a childish game of chicken," Sylvia hissed. "He never intended to marry that whore, and he told me so himself. He wants that apartment andthat is it. And I'll happily sign the place over to him," she added more placidly. The sound of ice being stirred against a glass cut through the frigid conversation. "Just as soon as he admits his folly and drops that horrid girl back in the trash where she belongs."
The blood drained from my face. There was no way I had been played by this many people at once. Knox was… using me? To get back at his mother? That didn’t sound like him.
Arabella released a hollow, mirthless laugh. "Wow, you two arerich. Holy fuck. So, let me get this straight. You're holding his house over his head, and when he agrees to do what you want, you'll give it to him?"
"Yes," Sylvia replied emphatically.
"But not if he actually marries Gemma?"
"He's not going to marry Gemma," Sylvia snapped. "He's bluffing. And he's up against an opponent he can't beat. Sooner or later, he will realize that thing in his bed is a mistake. She is nothing. She's no one. She's a toy, and he'll throw her aside once he thinks he's made his point to me."
She is nothing. She's no one.
My heart went wild-rabbit fast, pumping painfully in my chest and stealing my breath. She had to be lying. Knox would never say that. He wouldn't. He wasn't playing me… was he?
"You’re lying," Arabella said, and I could hear the sneer in her voice. "And I hope to God he proves it."
Sylvia laughed. "Arabella, you are here because you lost our game, did you not? Knox will follow suit. You'll see."
I stumbled forward, all thoughts of continuing this farce of a plan gone. My memories of Knox's gentle hands and soothing words clashed painfully against Sylvia's words.
She is nothing. She's no one.
Breathing hard and fighting a blind panic I didn't understand, I stumbled out of the restaurant.
Chapter twenty-eight
Knox
Rule #12: Clean up your messes.
Ireally hoped Spencer would show up for our evening sparring match. I hadn't seen him since the greenhouse, and I had a strong itch to punch him in the gut. I'd had a long day performing C-sections, and although things had gone well for the most part, I'd had to wear khakis, a blue clinical coat, and a bow tie to the office, and I'd had to make sure my patients understood that I'd dressed up as Bill Nye the Science Guyin the spirit of Halloween. This holiday put me in a bad mood.
As I warmed up at the punching bag, the outdoor entrance to the gym opened, and Spencer sauntered in with his purple gym bag from high school over his shoulder and a wary look in his dark eyes. He had his hair in his usual half-up bun, and he'd recently had the bottom half of his hair trimmed so the buzz cutfaded out to his neck. I'd heard him described as a Viking in med school. He looked like a dick to me.
I jabbed the bag. "You showed up."
He dropped his duffel to the spring mat floor. "You disappointed?"
I hit the bag so hard, my knuckles screamed. "Gear up."
He snorted dismissively. "You still salty about Gemma? Come on. You needed a push to admit how you felt for her. Did you or did you not fuck her silly that night?"
I stilled, rotating a glare his way. "You jonesing for a black eye or something?"
"So touchy." Spencer crouched down by his bag and unzipped it, pulling out his seven-ounce gloves and fitting them to his large hands. "To answer your question—no. I'm just jealous you found someone as great as Gemma, and I had to hand her to you on a fucking platter so you would notice your own feelings. Sometimes I think you have ones and zeroes in there instead of biological DNA."
"You should have donenothinglike what you did," I seethed advancing on him slowly. I had already worked up a sweat, and my muscles were warm, twitching and begging to be put to use.
Spencer stood slowly, pulling his cutoff, white T-shirt away from his body and eyeing me a little more seriously than I was used to. He'd warmed up, too, apparently. A sheen of sweat glistened on his arms, and he cracked his knuckles. "You should work on your emotional intelligence, smartass."
"You hurt her," I replied with quiet venom.
"I did not," he dismissed with an eye roll. "She liked you the whole time. Don't even fuck with me. Are we going to fight or bitch like pussies?" He slipped his mouthguard in.
I took my stance in the middle of the floor, pushing my mouthguard against my teeth and biting to get the right fit. "If you were anyone else, I would have knocked your teeth out."
"I believe you, you crazy motherfucker. No kicking," he warned, holding out a finger as he circled me and then took his crouched stance. "Grapple."
