"The first time I was told I was a good-for-nothing, I was eight," Winn began. "You want to know who told me that?... My father."
Ivy’s throat went dry.
"My father took every single opportunity to pull me down," Winn continued, the flash of bitterness sharp in the curve of his mouth. "When the words stopped hurting me, he switched to his fists." He offered a bitter smile, and Ivy could see the hardened edge of the boy he once was beneath the man he had become.
"When he called me useless, I proved to him I wasn’t. When he called me good-for-nothing, I proved to him I wasn’t. When he began to use his fists, I got stronger," he said, stepping closer until she could feel the heat radiating from him.
"I threw my first punch at nineteen at my father. Then it stopped. Because he couldn’t hurt me anymore."
Ivy swallowed, captivated and shaken all at once. He was sharing this with her.
"I took that lesson into business, and I excelled at what I do," he said. "Because I prove everyone wrong. You throw your punch, honey. Don’t hold back. Someone lunges at you, you throw... your... punch."
She could see it now, the fire that drove him, the obsession with control, with proving his worth.
Who was she to tell this man no after hearing the scars his father carved into his soul? "I’m sorry you had to go through that," she whispered. She wanted to throw her arms around him, to cradle the boy inside the man who had once stood small and afraid.
"Meeeh..." Winn shrugged, the corner of his lips curving into a cocky little grin that almost seemed out of place with the story he’d just confessed. "I am stronger because of it. Now, please, let me take you home."
Ivy nodded. She grabbed her bag quickly. "Technically," she said, desperate to lighten the weight of his revelation, "are you asking me to throw a literal punch at work? Because I might take that advice a little too seriously." She forced a nervous laugh, cheeks heating.
"Then I would have to fire you." Winn smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief. He looked at her as if firing her would be the last thing he’d ever want to do.
Ivy scoffed, flicking her hair back in mock indignation. "You are no fun."
While she was distracted with adjusting the strap of her bag, Winn casually placed a hand on her lower back, steering her toward the exit. His palm was hot against the thin fabric of her dress. Every nerve ending in her body lit up. She had to bite down on her lip to keep from sighing out loud. God help her, they did look good together.
"Trish!!!" Ivy practically screeched as she swung open her front door Saturday morning and found her best friend on the step. Her hair was a bird’s nest, and she was in an oversized shirt. "Jesus, you look like you’ve been dragged backward through a nightclub."
"What the hell, Ivy? What’s happened to you? You weren’t at Commissioned last night," she said accusingly, throwing her purse onto the nearest chair.
"You were?!" Ivy blinked. "I thought you said you met the millionaire guy. What happened to your future sugar daddy?"
Trish groaned dramatically and threw herself onto the couch. "Ugh. Don’t even start. He was an asshole. Tight-fisted. He actually had the nerve to make me split the bill at dinner. Can you believe that? A millionaire making me pay for my own pasta?" She kicked her shoes off with a huff. "So yeah, broke up with the idiot."
Ivy knew Trish’s ’millionaire’ wasn’t going to last. "Awww... I’m so sorry."
"What’s going on with you?" Trish asked, narrowing her eyes as she folded her arms. She was practically vibrating with curiosity.
"Well, I... uh..." Ivy fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. Her stomach was tied in knots, because saying it out loud made it real, and because she knew exactly how dramatic her best friend was about to get. "I’m getting married."
"Oh God." Trish threw her head back and groaned as if Ivy had just announced she was committing a crime. "Don’t tell me that cheating, broke-ass, good-for-nothing Steve proposed." She grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it. "Girl, I swear if you even considered saying yes to that man—"
"No... no." Ivy waved her hands quickly. "Uh... I am marrying my boss. Winn Kane." She bit her lip as soon as she said it, bracing herself.
Trish froze. Literally froze. Then her mouth dropped open, eyes widening to cartoon proportions. "Shut the front door!" she screeched, jumping up. "Kane? Kane of House of Kane?!" She clutched her chest dramatically.
"Yeah." Ivy said, shrugging. Just hearing his name made her pulse quicken—Mr. Kane, her boss, the man with hands that had already ruined her for every other man alive. Google seaʀᴄh 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡⁂𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢⁂𝘯𝘦𝘵
"Oh my world," Trish gasped, pacing the living room. "What did you do? You have to teach me what you did. How? How? How?!" She spun on her friend, eyes wild with curiosity.
"Okay, calm down." Ivy laughed nervously. "It’s nothing serious."
"Nothing serious?" Trish nearly screeched. "Nothing serious?!!!" She flung her arms in the air.
Ivy sighed and dropped onto the sofa. "I mean... it’s just because some of his investors are pushing him to get married and... well... I was right outside the door." Her cheeks flamed. "It wasn’t exactly a proposal. More like... circumstances."
Trish squinted. "So... like a contract marriage?"
"Not exactly. I don’t know." Ivy groaned, sinking deeper into the cushions. She wanted to explain, but how could she? How could she describe the look in his eyes when he kissed her?
"You guys fucked yet?" Trish blurted, zero hesitation.
Ivy’s grin slipped out before she could stop it—slow, wicked, uncontrollable. Her eyes lit up, betraying her completely. "Oh my god," she whispered, clasping her cheeks as the memory crashed over her. "It was miraculous. I saw stars I have never seen before in my life!"