Caged

  “If Deacon and I had left his bedroom at all yesterday, I would’ve called.”

  Her eyes went as wide as her grin. “You’re not joking about spending all day in bed, are you?”

  “No.”

  “But things are good?”

  Molly grinned back. “Very. And I promise we’ll talk as soon as the boss is done grilling me.” She headed straight for Amery’s office and shut the door behind her.

  Amery checked out Molly’s outfit. Since Molly hadn’t been home since Saturday afternoon, she’d paired the spare pair of black jeans she’d found in her workout bag with the sequined silver tank top she’d worn beneath her western shirt to Katie’s party Saturday night. She’d finished the outfit with one of Deacon’s crisp white dress shirts, knotted at the waist. “That’s a funky outfit, Mol. You look good.”

  “Thanks. I feel good.” Molly settled in the visitor’s chair and crossed her legs—a move she couldn’t have done a year and a half ago, before she started working out.

  “Did your conversation with Ronin on Friday prompt you into giving Deacon another chance?”

  Molly shook her head. “In fact, my discussion with Ronin increased my doubts about . . . everything.”

  “Fuck. I worried that might happen. Sensei Black isn’t as attuned to emotion as he thinks he is. And sometimes he comes off as an uncaring asshole.”

  No kidding. “I’ll be straight with you. It seemed like Ronin was warning me off Deacon.”

  Amery’s eyes went flat.

  “You’re right that your man says what he thinks and damn the consequences. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to take it that way, but I did.”

  “Do you remember exactly what Ronin said and how he phrased it?”

  Molly repeated as much of that part of the conversation as she could remember. She withheld a laugh when Amery smacked her own forehead after she finished speaking.

  “I know him, Molly. And he wasn’t saying Deacon was better off not in a relationship with you. He was relaying how Deacon dealt with the hurt and frustration of not being with you. In his Ronin way, he was telling you to be prepared because Deacon would be coming for you as soon as he got control.”

  Her jaw dropped. “That is not at all how I took it!”

  “I know. And Ronin sort of suspected that after he got done talking to you. So he asked me to clarify a few things, but by the time he mentioned that on Friday, you’d already left for the day.” Amery sighed. “I love him. The man’s instincts are unparalleled when it comes to me, but I’m the exception with him, not the rule.”

  “Was Ronin all mental ninja with his other girlfriends?”

  “No. After Naomi, women were a tool. He used them when he needed them and put them out of his mind when he finished with them.”

  Molly sipped her coffee. “Harsh.”

  “But true. I could make excuses and claim he’s a man’s man. He understands his instructors and his guy friends. Knox, Deacon, Gil, and now Fisher and Riggins. But he is way off base when it comes to Blue, Beck, Maddox, and Ito. He seriously fucked up with Knox and the Shihan issue.” She shook her head. “That was another situation I had to explain to Master Black after the fact, about how wrong his approach had been with Knox. And don’t get me started on how fucking clueless he was about his own damn sister.” She paused and closed her eyes. “He’s getting better with Shiori. And Katie. She can be annoying, but she knows her stuff. That’s not something I ever thought I’d admit.” She opened her eyes and looked at Molly. “But back to you. I’m so freaking sorry I sicced Ronin on you and he made it worse.”

  “You misunderstood. Ronin helped me—up until the point he talked about how much better Deacon fought when he was in turmoil over me. Ronin is the only one who knows that Deacon has things in his past he’d rather not discuss.”

  “But Deacon told you those things?”

  “No. I found out from someone else. That’s where my problem began. Deacon’s secrets aren’t mine to tell. I couldn’t talk to anyone about what happened between us because the breakup was based on his nondisclosure.” She groaned. “That sounded like a damn business breakdown.”

  “Cut yourself a break, Molly. You majored in business. It helps to put things in a context you can understand.”

  “I’m happy you know that about me. Anyway, Deacon made it right with me. He gave me time to settle, and then I was at a point where I could listen.” Molly stared into her coffee cup. “It didn’t make it any easier to hear.”

  “Did Deacon tell you all of it?”

  Her head shot up. “Why would you—”

  “Ask that? Seems like a weird question, I know. But trust me—my husband has many secrets. Just when I think I’ve uncovered them all, a new one pops up. I’ve had to accept that loving him means letting him tell me those secrets on his time frame, not mine. So is that something you can live with?”

  Why hadn’t Molly considered that Deacon might be keeping more from her? Because he’d come clean about the accident, his family, and financial situation?

  “Hey, I’m not trying to sow seeds of discord. Far from it. I’m happy that you and Deacon found each other. But I can’t help drawing the parallels between Ronin and Deacon. There’s a reason they get along so well beyond their connection to martial arts.”

  “You mean because they’re both rich?”

  Amery fidgeted. “I wondered if Deacon would disclose that. And I hated that if he didn’t, it wasn’t up to me to tell you. Jesus, Molly. You know I know how that feels.”

  Ronin had hidden his billionaire-heir status from Amery, and it’d caused a serious break in their relationship that’d lasted several weeks. They’d repaired it, but Molly knew their financial disparity was still a concern for Amery. “I know it would’ve caused a conflict for you. But I understand that your loyalty is to Ronin.”

  “Thank god. I worry it might be a tricky balance between us, keeping our friendship and our business relationship, as well as our significant others’ secrets. I don’t want either of us to be afraid to confide in the other. I trust you, Molly, and I think you trust me.”

  “I do. So how did you learn about Deacon’s family money? Ronin?”

  She shook her head. “Deacon’s father flew in for the last fight—the one you skipped because he stood you up—on the company’s private jet. Not a charter, but a private plane they own. Deacon’s dad didn’t hide that, but he didn’t brag, either. I ended up talking to him at the after-party since Deacon was with—” Amery snapped her mouth shut.

  “Ring bunnies. Yeah, I know about them. Speaking of after-parties . . . the fight card that he and Needham are on is being held in Denver, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “We haven’t done promo for it.”

  “That’s because it’s not sponsored by Black and Blue Promotions. East Meets West dojo is in charge. And they throw killer parties.” She grinned. “I saw Katie taking notes and digging through the garbage in her ring-girl costume to see if the hors d’oeuvres were from Costco.”

  Molly laughed. “She would. That woman is tenacious. And I’m glad you’ve gotten over whatever problem you had with her.”

  “Jealousy. I didn’t like the way she looked at my man.”

  “Amery, every woman looks at your man that way because he is exquisite to look at. But the only woman he ever looks back at like that is you.”

  Amery sighed. “I know, right? I’m the luckiest woman on the planet.”

  “And with that . . . I’ll get to work.”

  “We’ll have our weekly meeting at eleven thirty. I’ll order in. Let Presley know.”

  “Will do. Thanks.”

  The rest of the day sped by. Amery had brought in three new accounts the past week. And as Molly sat in on the creative brainstorming session, she realized for the millionth time how thrilled she was to work here—where her job was more than just a job and her boss was more than just a boss.

  • • •

  DEACON showed up at Molly?
??s apartment an hour after she’d gotten off work. His brooding face and quiet demeanor indicated his training day hadn’t gone well, so she didn’t ask specifics.

  While he showered, she finished making dinner. Prior to their break, she’d convinced Deacon to give her the diet he followed in the weeks leading up to a fight. Since the bout with Needham was in two and a half weeks, she knew he changed eating patterns today. She fixed ground turkey and brown rice, along with a spinach salad with non-starchy vegetables. Before bed he’d have a “dessert” shake—chocolate protein powder, almond milk, and low-glycemic fruit, like strawberries.

  His clean scent reached her before he did. His bare arms encircled her, and he kissed the side of her neck. “Hey.”

  “Hey. Feel better?”

  “Seeing you barefoot in the kitchen, wearing those raggedy-ass sweatpants and this tiny tank top, reminds me that I’m a lucky bastard.”

  “Aw. You say the sweetest things. Have a seat. Dinner’s almost done.”

  Deacon rested his chin on her shoulder. “Babe. What’s all this?”

  Molly turned and wreathed her arms around his neck. “Fight diet starts today, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So that’s what we’re eating. I followed the recipes exactly—no substitutions. Even the spices I used are sodium free.”

  “You did that for me,” he stated tersely. “Without asking.”

  Not the reaction she’d wanted. “Yes. Don’t be mad. I promise I didn’t add or change anything that would—”

  “Stop talking.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “You don’t get it. No one has ever done anything like this for me.”

  “Deacon . . .”

  “No one. And my woman”—he rested his forehead to hers and closed his eyes—“my hot, sexy, sweet woman was thinking of me. At the end of her long workday, she went to the store, tracked down all the weird shit I’m allowed to eat, and cooked it for me. Not only that, but she tried to make it taste decent. Fuck, Molly. Do you have any idea what that means to me?”

  “I’m starting to,” she murmured.

  “You amaze me. What you give me . . .” Deacon eased back to gaze into her eyes. “I love you. So fucking much.” Then his mouth was on hers, bestowing a kiss unlike any she’d ever been gifted with before. And it was a gift, the precious way Deacon made her feel.

  So give him a gift in return. Tell him you love him too.

  She would. Just not right now. She twisted out of his hold. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

  After he’d sat at the eat-in counter, she set the food down in serving bowls rather than dishing it up. “That’s one thing I was unclear on. Serving sizes. But if you need a food scale, I have one around here someplace—”

  “Babe. Sit. I’ve been doin’ this long enough I can eyeball my portions.”

  “Okay. But I’ll probably have to put salt on mine. That’s one thing I can’t give up.”

  Deacon frowned. “You don’t have to eat this just because I do.”

  “I know. I just thought it’d be easier if we’re eating the same meal.”

  He leaned over and kissed her hard.

  Although Molly had tried to jazz it up, the food was still really bland. But that didn’t stop Deacon from eating two helpings of turkey and rice and three helpings of salad.

  As soon as they finished, he rinsed the dishes and loaded her tiny dishwasher. A domestic Deacon was a sexy Deacon.

  He turned and caught her watching him. “You keep looking at me like that and you’re gonna get fucked right here on the kitchen floor.”

  “That would be fun. Maybe later. How long are you staying tonight?”

  “I thought I’d stay over.” He yanked her against him. “Don’t like sleeping alone anymore.”

  “You could always get a dog,” she teased.

  “Wrong. I don’t like sleeping without you.”

  Deacon’s need for constant physical contact between them was one of her favorite things about him. The fact he could now verbalize that need? Made her damn near giddy. “I’m happy you want a sleepover, but fair warning: I’m putting you to work first.”

  “What kind of work?”

  “Well, last week when I needed to do something to take my mind off you and I couldn’t quite make myself go check out the kickboxing programs at other gyms—”

  “What? Why would you even think about doin’ that?”

  “Because if we were broken up for good, it would’ve been too hard seeing you all the time. Black Arts is your place more than it was ever mine. I thought it’d be the easiest solution.”

  “Nope. There’s a better one.” He got right in her face. “We’re never breaking up again—got it?”

  She smiled at his ferocity. “Got it.”

  “Now, what’s this damn ‘honey-do’ list you’ve got lined up for your man?”

  “It’s not a ‘honey-do’ list; it’s a project.”

  “I’m good with projects.”

  Were her eyes deceiving her, or did Deacon actually look happy about helping her? She grabbed his hand and towed him into the spare bedroom before he changed his mind.

  Inside the room, Deacon looked at the furniture on the plastic tarp, next to the cans of paint and the sanding blocks. “What did those bookcases do to piss you off?”

  “I needed to change something, and sanding the bookcases was a great outlet for my aggression.”

  “Was there something wrong with the bookcases that they needed to be fixed?”

  “No. I just wanted to give them a fresher look.”

  “Fresher look,” he repeated. “Babe. I don’t even know what the fuck that means. If you wanted something different, why didn’t you just buy it?”

  Molly counted to ten. It wasn’t Deacon’s financial status that kept him from understanding; it was his Y chromosome. “Because I can’t buy it the way I want it. That’s why it’s called a ‘do it yourself’ project. On one of the home-improvement channels, I watched a woman revamp her old bookcases, and they turned out amazing. Totally changed the look of her entire room. Since I needed a distraction last week, I started this project.”

  “Probably a more productive distraction than punching the fuck out of everyone who crossed your path.”

  Men. “Yeah. It helped.”

  Deacon crouched down for a closer look at the mess. “It’s a woman thing, huh?”

  “What?”

  “Changing shit, rearranging shit, revamping shit.”

  “I guess. Although some guys like to do it too.”

  He snorted disbelief at the very idea of that.

  She bristled. “If you don’t want to help—”

  “I do wanna help, but I gotta be honest. I don’t understand why you took perfectly good bookcases and sanded the varnish off them . . .” He bent over the largest bookcase. “Jesus. Did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Beat on this with a hammer or a chain? There are dents fucking everywhere.”

  “Yes, I used both, actually. It’s a distressing technique that’s supposed to make it look antiqued.”

  “Taking a hammer and a chain to oak makes it look like a psycho decided to redecorate.”

  “Deacon!”

  He turned, his face registering surprise at her sharp tone. “What?”

  “Get out. I do not need your criticism when you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I’ve been looking forward to finishing this project, and you will not suck the joy out of it for me.”

  Deacon looked confused.

  “Seriously. Get out. Go watch TV or something.”

  “Watch the TV that’s sitting on the floor because you took it