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But she opened the door, heat and light from her apartment bathing me, Magoo twining around her ankles and poking his head out to sniff me.
“Hi.” Her voice was breathy and I drank her in, from the top of her messy bun to her feet in fuzzy socks.
“Can I come in?” My voice sounded gravelly and unused and her eyes were wide.
“Of course. I’m just flipping channels.” She didn’t ask what was wrong, just welcomed me in. I wasn’t ready to delve into the tangled mess of emotions that was my family life.
“Um, do you want a beer? Or maybe some water?”
“Water would be great. Thank you.”
I used the opportunity to admire her apartment. A huge couch dominated the living room and the rest of the space was taken up by books, plants, lots of eclectic art, what looked like a handmade rug.
“It’s just like your office.” It was cozy, comfortable, so very her. I didn’t even know what I would decorate my apartment with, if given the chance. And wasn’t that depressing as hell? My apartment was bare just like my office was, not because I was a neat freak, but because I had nothing to fill the space.
“I guess it is. I like to have my creature comforts at the office too.” She was delightfully pink at the statement.
“I’ve noticed,” I said dryly and she grinned, before we settled ourselves on the couch. She tucked her knees up to her chin and sipped the glass of wine that was half-empty.
“So, Friday night, Andrew Markman is in my apartment. I feel like the idiot girl in a horror movie.” Her eyes were amused and I could tell she didn’t mind this. Somewhere along the way, the friction between us had ended, and instead a delicious tension hung in its place. She felt it too. I could tell. It was there in the way her eyes tracked my body, the way she dipped her tongue out to taste her lips, like she imagined mine were there instead. I wanted to sink into that comfortable place of lusting for her, but instead I bared my soul.
“I need a friend tonight.”
“What happened?”
“You can tell something is wrong?” If she was half as focused on me as I was on her, then it would be easy.
“I can.” She dipped her head. “You seem out of sorts. Normally you’re this force moving through the world, confident, powerful.” I felt the buzz of her compliment in my blood. I was going to tuck that away. She frowned. “Tonight, you seem diminished. I don’t think I like it.”
28
Margo
Andrew stilled at my words. For a moment I worried I offended him and then he let out a sigh.
“I’m cut off.” His voice was wooden and his eyes fell shut briefly.
“Sorry, what was that?” I didn’t understand him. I scooted closer. I could feel his strength and warmth and pain. I wanted to curl into him, to offer him comfort, but I restrained myself.
“My parents. They disinherited me.” His voice was hard.
“What happened? Assuming you want to talk about it.”
“I won’t come to heel and they hate it.” He sneered. “We’ve been at war for a while over myfailuresas a son. The date was just part of it. They want me to marry someone they choose, but more importantly, they want me to run the family firm. I want to make it on my own, prove myself and be done with the scheming.” He blew out a breath. “I put this all in motion after the date, and they discovered it today when I finally moved out.” He looked devastated but he was clearly trying to put on a brave face. For a second I remembered the vulnerable boy he’d been when we first started. Of course he had wanted to prove himself, when this was his family.
“That’s awful” I breathed. “So they made the decision today to disinherit you?” I couldn’t comprehend what having an inheritance meant. A small part of me thought back to my words from our fight and agreed with them. He’d been given the world from birth and it still wasn’t enough.
“It’s been in the works for a while. It’s a threat they hang over my head when I’m not following orders. I don’t even need the money.” His short laugh was broken, wheezing. “My parents have always shown their love with money. And sometimes, it helped. But mostly, it wasn’t enough. I’m finally coming to the realization that they don’t care about me. This is definitive proof.” The pain on his beautiful face was so apparent that I wanted to cup his cheek, curl into him, anything to help. I reached out and grabbed his hand. It wasn’t enough, but he shuddered and closed his eyes.
The cruelty was shocking. My parents would leave every dollar they had to Emily and me. Hell, each and every one of us would give our last cent, the shirt off our backs for our family. And Andrew’s family wielded their money like a weapon.
“I thought you said you haven’t taken any money from them in eight years?” I remembered that from our awful, embarrassing fight. How wrong I’d been about him. I ran my finger over his rough palm and he curled his hand around mine.
“Oh. That. Yeah, I started giving the money to charity when I started at the firm. I used to pick only charities I knew would piss them off. Anything that was super progressive. I donated to trans rights organizations, activists for tax reform against billionaires, straight up socialists.” He smiled ruefully. “I must have donated almost a million dollars over the past eight years. I actually got invited to an event last month as a top donor.” He gave a shake of his head. “Can you believe it? As if I wanted to stand around drinking champagne and congratulating myself.”
“I can actually. Some people would love that.” I was frozen for a minute with how my preconceived notions of him had been so in line with how the world saw him, and so at odds with who he was. Shame was like acid in my belly.
“So, what, they just want an heir to the Markman business?” His face hardened at my words and he looked away.
