Like all gusts of hope, mine died a slow, cruel death.
I’d hoped for another blowjob from Farrow before lunch.
Instead, I received numerous interruptions from Natalie, impeding my scheduled video conferences and business calls.
Then, Mom dropped by to complain about my lack of response, urging me to download a tracking app in case I ended up in a ditch somewhere.
Genuine tears leaked from her eyes, and I knew the latent anxiety from learning of the crash never actually left her.
Oliver came next with an absurd request to borrow my home for an orgy. I kicked him out, literally, but he only pivoted, asking me to do it again—harder.
And still, no sign of Octi.
I checked the surveillance cameras.
Hallways. Kitchens. Living areas.
Nowhere.
Stop with this obsession. Concentrate on your work.
Two hours in, that proved impossible. I tried to feed myself the excuse that I was checking in on an unruly employee as I rose from my seat and made my way to her room.
I knocked on her door, feeling like a certified idiot. It was my house. She was under my payroll.
Why did I feel so out of control?
“Farrow. I know you’re in there.” No answer. I pressed my elbow to the door, my nostrils flaring. “Your car’s parked out front—where I should be parking, by the fucking way—and all my healthy snacks have been raided overnight.”
Finally, her unapologetic voice came from the other side of the wood. “Those cashew energy balls are the bomb. You need to buy more of them.”
She’d spoken with her signature sass, yet I picked up on something fragile. Brittle, even.
My hackles rose all the way to the sky.
“Octi?” I replayed the last forty-eight hours, sifting through my memories. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Shockingly, no. It’s not you.”
“Can I open the door?”
“I’d rather you didn’t see me like this.”
“Like what?”
“Vulnerable.”
“Farrow.” I closed my eyes, drawing a breath. “I’ve shown you the darkest, most depraved sides of me. I bared my soul to you. All I’m asking is to catch a glimpse of yours.”
The world tilted on its axis as I waited for her answer.
Finally, she said, “You can come in.”
I pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it behind me. Natalie lurked somewhere in the house—Constance, too, maybe—and I felt protective of Octi’s privacy.
She lay in bed, her long legs tangled in the satin sheets, her face buried in a pillow.
She wore nothing but an oversized sweatshirt, somehow looking lovelier than any girl I’d ever seen in a ballgown. Her golden hair splayed across the pillowcase like liquid sun rays.
Something tightened in my chest at the sight of her.
This better be a heart attack, Zachary, Mom’s voice warned inside my head.
I rushed to her bedside. “What happened?”
I’d never seen her cry or anything close to it. In fact, one of the reasons this woman appealed to me so much was the fact that she was stronger than tungsten.
“Who did this to you?” I demanded.
My hands found her back, rubbing it back and forth as I sat on the edge of the mattress.
Face still buried in the pillow, she fished her phone out from under her chest and tossed it in the general vicinity of my hand. “This is what I woke up to.”
A New York Times article popped on the screen, the headline bolded.
Farrow Ballantine:
Prodigy, Talent, CHEAT.
“Check out the news tab under my name.” The silk muffled her moan—not quite a cry but a sign of her obvious misery. “Just have a bucket ready in case you need to vomit.”
Dozens of scandalous headlines graced all of the leading sites.
Farrow Ballantine Officially Kicked off the Olympics for Throwing Match.
Fencer Farrow Ballantine Lost on Purpose—Should Team USA give her another chance?
Farrow Ballantine ‘Cheated’ the System:
A report.
Nothing about these headlines surprised me.
I’d dug all this up in my deep-dive prior to hiring her.
Shortly before returning to the States, Farrow had thrown her last match in Seoul.
The little cheat somehow managed to keep it under wraps, handling this internally with USA Fencing and the Olympic Committee.
That I didn’t know how she’d pulled off.
The woman had less connections than a prepaid phone.
“My future as a fencer is done. I’m toast.” She shifted, hugging her pillow to her chest. “I’m never going to make it to the Olympics now.”
I checked her cheek for wetness.
Nothing.
Still, she sniffled, fighting a fresh wave of tears.
“You need to tell me what happened, Octi. From the beginning.” I brushed her hair away from her face, mainly as an excuse to touch her. “Think you can do that?”
She rolled on her back. I got a full glimpse of her face now. Nose pink, eyes bloodshot, hair a tousled mess.
I balled my hands into fists to stop myself from breaking something.
Farrow licked her lips. “Promise not to judge?”
The one who needs judgment is me.
Much to my horror, you could set the entire world aflame and I’d hold your fucking earrings and cheer you on from the sidelines.
“Pinky promise.”
She scooted up, plastering her back against the headboard as she peeked at me.
Her teeth sank into her lower lip. “My last day in Seoul, I did something… bad.”
“Elaborate.”
“I’d just received a phone call that Dad died in a freak accident. A distant aunt told me. Not Vera. Not Reggie or Tabby.” Her gaze dropped to her lap. “I tried reaching Vera via email and phone. I even sent a neighbor to knock on her door, but she dodged me.”
I swore, looped an arm around Fae’s waist, and carried her onto my lap, her hair spilling down my leg like a golden waterfall.
Fae blinked up at me, relaxing into my thighs. “Later that day, I found out that she’d canceled the card Dad set up for me to use in Korea. She emptied my joint bank account, too, including my personal savings I kept there. She knew I wouldn’t be able to buy a plane ticket home without that money.”
I ran my fingertips down her head, massaging her scalp, mostly to distract myself from the rage stewing inside me.
Fae rested her cheek against my abs. “She didn’t want me at Dad’s funeral. Probably to hurt me, but with the added bonus of convincing people that I didn’t care when she presented his will.”
Her pink-rimmed eyes glistened with unshed tears.
Lucky for me, Vera was nowhere near our vicinity. Spending the rest of my life on death row sounded like a depressing existence.
I kneaded a knot out of her neck, gliding my thumb down its column, hoping to ease her tension. “Everyone who knows you knows you love your dad.”
“No one here really knows me except you.” She scrunched her nose, rubbing away tears that refused to spill. “I had options. I won’t pretend that I didn’t. Ari’s a chaebol. Heiress to a ginormous fortune. I could have gone to her for a loan. She wouldn’t even ask me to pay it back. And my other fencing friends would’ve chipped in for a plane ticket if I’d told them I needed the money.”
My hand drifted up her nape to her jaw now, just touching her.
Marveling at the fact that I could.
Marveling at the fact that she let me.
And knowing I needed to do something with it, or I’d hunt Vera Ballantine down.
“But I was so dang… proud.” Fae’s expression darkened, her gaze fixed on an invisible spot on the ceiling. “My pride wouldn’t let me beg for money. Not even to attend Dad’s funeral.”
She curled to her side, burying her nose into my stomach. “I spent my entire life helpless against Vera, Reggie, and Tabby. But this marked my first fight against them without Dad behind me. I wanted to show them I could hold my own.”
Shame oozed from her pores. “I wasn’t thinking straight.” The fabric of my dress shirt muffled her voice. “I’d just lost my dad. I was broke, all the way across the world, with two days to get a ticket home. I couldn’t see the future. Not my fencing career. Not the Olympics.”
Farrow’s fingers curled into tight fists against my thigh. “The day Dad died, he was supposed to fly to Korea on a red-eye. To watch me at my competition. My last bout before I returned to the US for Olympic qualifiers. Enter Laura Müller. Rich, young, and talented, but nowhere near the skill level required to beat me.”
She sucked in a breath, the tips of her ears turning pink. “Her dad approached me weeks before, insinuating he wanted to strike a deal. That the competition meant nothing to me, since I’d still make it to the North American qualifiers, beat everyone there, and cinch my spot on Team USA.”
I uncurled her fists, soothing away the nail marks on her palm.
“But for Laura… winning against a fencer like me would give her the confidence to compete in the European qualifiers.” Fae’s shoulders tensed. “Of course, I said no. Then, I went on with my life as if nothing had happened.”
“But that morning of the competition, I suited up, mere days from Dad’s funeral with no way to get there.” She gulped, closing her eyes. “I sat in the locker room and thought… What could it hurt? So, I struck a deal…”
A lone tear rolled out of her right eye, cascading down her cheek and disappearing inside her sweatshirt.
“I agreed to lose the match in exchange for a ticket to D.C. and unlimited legal fees.” Fae’s jaw set. “I knew Vera would do something fishy with the will. That I’d need to lawyer up. It seemed so easy. So harmless. No one was supposed to find out.”
I traced the bridge of her nose. “How did they find out?”
I’d watched that match several times on YouTube after Tom had given me Farrow’s full background report. Obvious grief lined her bloodshot eyes.
The announcer even noted the recent passing of Fae’s father. For all intents and purposes, any performance she gave—good or bad—should’ve been believable.
I still hadn’t figured out this missing piece of the puzzle. How Farrow got caught.
“Vera.” Farrow snorted. “How else?”
I am going to kill this woman.
Slowly. Painfully. Enthusiastically.
“I made it to Dad’s funeral in the nick of time.” A shaky breath rattled Fae’s chest. “Just as they started lowering his casket into the ground. I flung myself over it and hugged it hard, crying on top of it.”
A bitter chuckle crept up her throat. “It was a big scene. And the last time I cried.” She paused, deep in thought. “Before now. Before you.”
Cruel thoughts trickled into my head.
Useless, unrealistic thoughts.
Let me be your shelter, Farrow Ballantine.
Let me redeem you as you redeem me.
I bundled her hand in mine, squeezing hard. “What did Vera do?”
“Made a huge scene, of course. She tore me straight from the casket and onto the ground. Her relatives had to scrape her off of me. Then she started yelling at me. That I had no right to show up there. That I wasn’t invited.”
A small grin played on Farrow’s lips. “I clapped back, like I always did. Which was how I landed across the world in the first place. She’d gotten sick of my ‘unruly’ ways. I always refused to let Vera, Reggie, and Tabby bully me around.”
A ribbon of pride looped around my chest. It used to frustrate me that Farrow refused to take shit—particularly from me. But I’d grown to look forward to her sass, seeking it out every day.
You are so royally fucked.
As if she could hear my thoughts, Farrow sighed. “Tabby screeched loud enough to burst my eardrums. But how did she even get here, Mom? And Reggie gave up the gig. I thought you said you emptied her bank account. Enough people heard her to send gasps across the crowd.”
“Then, what happened?”
“Vera dragged me behind a tree and told me she’d spoken to Laura’s mom. That she admitted to the bribe. They must have let it slip because they considered her my de-facto mother. They definitely didn’t think Vera would go running to the Olympic committee with the info.”
“What happened after?”
“They fined me out of my ass. Overnight, my reputation crumbled into ruins among officials. Team USA dropped me from the qualifiers. The only reason it didn’t escalate was because of Andras. Everyone reveres him.”
“He’s never won a medal.” I ran a hand down my jaw, remembering the dossier I’d read on him. “Never had a fencer who’s won an Olympic gold.”
“He’s rough around the edges. Has the personality of a traffic jam. Only I’ve ever managed to stick with him. It doesn’t matter though. There’s an urban legend around the community that all you need is one session with him to medal. It’s true. The last four women’s medalists trained with Andras. They just didn’t take him as a coach, because he’s a raging asshole.”
“And Vera? She just went along with sweeping everything under the rug?”
“Vera agreed not to run to the media if I stayed in my lane and did all her dirty work.”
The rest of the puzzle clicked into place.
Why Farrow became Cinderella 2.0.
Why she still practiced fencing with hopes of competing in the Olympics.
And why she’d spent the morning in tears with her chance officially gone.
“I’ll never be able to do this professionally.” Fae shook her head, hopping to her feet and ambling toward the window. “That dream is gone. Dead. Just like my father.”
“Why did Vera leak it?”
Fae hugged herself as she looked out at the rose bushes. “Vera found out I have a private investigator and a herd of lawyers sniffing around. She found Tom going through her trash in the middle of the night.”
Motherfucker.
“How do you know?”
“She texted me.”
Guilt rocketed through me.
I’d brought Tom into her life. I killed her fencing dream.
Farrow’s shoulders caved as she hugged herself tighter. “I’m not even sure Andras will still work with me. I was his shot at an Olympic gold.”
“Has he reached out to you yet?”
I picked up her phone, scrolling through the nasty articles. This story had legs, picking up speed as we spoke. Blasted on every news outlet. Trending on all social media platforms.
No shot in hell Andras hadn’t seen this. Unless he’d taken a lengthy vacation on Mars.
Octi shook her head, turning to face me. Full-blown tears coated her cheeks now.
Sheer fury simmered at my heels, heating me from head to toe. “Farrow, stop crying,” I bit out.
The command smeared the walls like sticky tar.
I wasn’t used to this. To… feeling.
And with Farrow, I felt.
All the damn time.
How terribly inconvenient. I loathed it.
To my horror, Fae’s sobs grew louder.
Her wails clawed at my chest, ripping the flesh to shreds.
“You don’t understand.” She fell to her knees, tilting her head down so I couldn’t see her face. “My entire life, I didn’t have much to my name. Not a family. Not a home. I had one thing—a dream. A destination. An Olympic piste.”
Her body vibrated with her sobs. “I pledged my whole being to that moment. I dreamed about it every night. Wished for it every morning. Read all the books, studied all the techniques…” She wrapped her arms around her knees, burying her face into them. “Without this goal, I don’t know who I am anymore.”
I strode to her, sinking to the rug as well, holding her shoulders. It didn’t even register that I touched her with ease now. That I let her lay on my lap—not to help me, but to help her.
And I wanted to touch her again. Often.
“Listen to me, Farrow.” I nudged her chin up with my fingertip. “Fencing is only one of many layers in you. You’re not reduced to a single dream. You’re a fighter. A businesswoman. A daughter. A moralist.”
Her eyes clung to me, shiny with tears like two polished sapphires.
I rolled my eyes. “A somewhat decent Go player.”
She snorted, a tiny grin playing with her lips now.
“Fencing never defined you, Octi.” I brushed away her tears with my thumb. “It gave you a home when you needed one.”
But you don’t anymore.
You have mine.
Jesus. Where had that come from?
I drowned that thought as fast as it came, gripping Farrow’s shoulders. “You’re not a helpless child anymore. You’re capable. Competent. Infuriatingly smart. Soon, you’ll destroy Vera. And she knows it. Ratting you out to the press? It’s a show of weakness. She blinked first, Octi.”
Farrow fell to her back, grabbing her stomach. I frowned, wondering what about my words she found funny.
Something strange happened. A wisp of air from the vent tickled my ear, sending a chill down my neck.
It felt… cold?
I hadn’t felt cold in years.
I hadn’t felt much of anything in years. This—tasting the cold while Farrow raced through every emotion under the sun—felt like the highlight of my existence.
Farrow began hiccuping, managing to stop for a second to say, “Who would have thought you would be the one to deliver a pep talk?” She clutched her sweatshirt, her shoulders shaking. “Seriously, I’ve been waiting for Ari to wake up for hours.”
I flattened my lips, unamused.
Still, she couldn’t stop laughing.
I ambled to the door, taking my sweet time, giving her the opportunity to stop me.
She did.
“Wait.” More giggles. “Has anyone ever told you that you can be a real gentleman when you want to be?”
“God, no.” I spun, raising a brow at her. “And don’t tell the others. This won’t be a reoccurrence.”
“Zach?”
“Yes, Octi?”
“Tell me something interesting about the octopus.”
I didn’t have to think hard. I’d stored these fun facts in my brain especially for her, because I knew she liked them.
“Octopuses are such intelligent, cerebrally superior creatures that, when devoid of mental stimulation, they become so distressed, they resort to autophagy and eat their own appendages.”
She blinked, staring at me with her head cocked. “I’ll ask again—couldn’t I be a kitten?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you are spectacular, intelligent, and different. Not a cliché.”
She tucked her lower lip in her mouth, delicious pink creeping up her cheeks. Her breaths came out heavier.
We were treading deep into something that would end in utter destruction.
“Zach?” she asked again.
“Yes, Octi?” I replied again.
“What happens next?”
“For my next act…” I grabbed her hand and helped her up. “I’m going to burn down the world for you.”
