Chapter 40: King of Pride: Chapter 40

The noise from the rest of the bar dulled to a muted roar.

The thought replayed in my head as I tried to process the sight before me. They hadn’t seen me yet—my booth was tucked in a corner next to the entrance, and they cut straight to the bar without looking around.

Half-digested tequila sloshed in my stomach as Kai bent his head and said something to Clarissa. Their backs were to me so I couldn’t see her reaction, but they made a good-looking couple. Same elegance, same refinement, her willowy height a perfect complement to his.

A fierce wound reopened, sending a deep ache through my chest. I was freezing despite the alcohol and the body heat drenching the bar, and shivers snuck through my body in tiny, rattling waves. I tried reaching for my coat, but my limbs were as heavy and unresponsive as concrete blocks.

Alessandra noticed my silence first. Her brows dipped. “What’s wrong?”

Nausea trapped my response in the back of my throat, rendering me mute, but my friends were smart enough to follow my gaze to the bar. Kai’s hair, build, and clothing were unmistakable even from the back.

A shocked silence wiped our earlier gaiety clean.

“We can leave,” Vivian said after a long, tense pause. “There’s another bar a few streets over that’s supposed to be good, or we can head back to Man—”

“No.” I finally regained control over my faculties. “We’re staying. We were here first, and there’s no…there’s no reason why we can’t be in the same room at the same time.”

A shift of his body. A turn of his head. Blow after unerring blow.

I forced oxygen past my tight lungs.

Kai and I were broken up. I’d him we should see other people when I ended things and that he was better off with Clarissa. I had no right to get mad.

Still, seeing them together so soon after our breakup hurt. So fucking much.

Sloane motioned for our server. “Another round of margaritas, please,” she said. “Extra strong.”

Compassion darkened Alessandra’s eyes. “Is this the first time you’ve…”

I nodded, swallowing past the lump in my throat. Of all the bars in all the world, he had to walk into this one.

Once upon a time, I thought it was romantic how the universe kept throwing us together. Now, I wanted to wring its skinny cosmic neck.

Clarissa laughed again at something Kai said, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood abruptly. “I’ll be right back.”

My friends didn’t stop or follow me as I speed walked to the restroom. Luckily, it was next to our booth, so I didn’t have to pass by the happy couple on my way there.

My heart pounded out a deep, painful rhythm.

What were they doing in Brooklyn? Neither of them were Brooklyn people. Were they on a date or here as friends? Was this their first time going out together or one of many?

But no matter how many times I told myself that, I couldn’t bring myself to believe it.

I took my time using the facilities and washing my hands. I never thought I would find solace in a public bathroom, but I would climb into a windowless metal box if it meant avoiding Kai and Clarissa for another second.

It was a small bar; they were bound to see me eventually. That didn’t mean I had to speed up the process.

My reflection stared back at me from the water-spotted mirror above the sink. I was two shades paler than usual, making me look like I was on the verge of a terrible illness.

I reached for a lipstick to add some color to my face when the door swung open and Clarissa walked inside.

We froze at the same time—my hand halfway to my bag, her stride broken next to the Dyson hand dryer.

Then the moment passed and we resumed our activities, but the awkward silence persisted. Part of me wanted to run out before I had to face her again; another, larger part stayed out of sheer morbid curiosity.

The toilet flushed. Clarissa came up beside me as I finished reapplying my lipstick. I looked better with a fresh pop of red, though my cheeks remained pale, and my skin was clammy with nerves.

Instead of alleviating the tension, the rush of the water faucet exacerbated it.

“Small world,” I finally said. My attempt at a light tone came out rusty with distress. I cleared my throat. “No offense, but I didn’t take you for a Brooklyn type of girl.”

“It was Kai’s suggestion.” Like Kai, Clarissa had a British accent, but hers was creamier, more fluid. “He said there was a great cocktail bar here.”

Of course he did. I told him about this bar when we were dating, which made him bringing her here all the more distressing.

“Oh.” I fought a sharp pang at the sound of his name. I imagined them discussing date options on the phone, and the pang grew worse. “Well, you two make a cute couple.”

I would’ve been embarrassed about my blatant fishing for information if I didn’t feel so sick.

Clarissa dried her hands and opened her clutch. “Thank you. Kai quite handsome, but…” She retrieved a sleek black lipstick tube. “Between you and me, he’s a bit boring.”

Indignation flushed hot beneath my skin. I’d accused him of the same thing a lifetime ago, before I really knew him, but hearing her say it in her haughty accent made me see red. “He’s not boring. He’s There’s a difference.”

“Maybe.” Clarissa’s lip color went on smooth and muted, its neutral shade a contrast to my brick-red stain. “He only talks about books and work. It gets tiring.”

“There’s nothing wrong with talking about books.” I yanked a paper towel from the dispenser and wiped my already dry hands. I needed something to do or I’d scream. “Reading is his hobby, and he’s He helps run a multibillion-dollar company. Of he’s going to—” I broke off at Clarissa’s laugh. “What’s so funny?” I demanded.

“You should see how red you’re turning.” Her eyes twinkled. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not funny, but Kai has been so miserable over you that it’s nice to see you haven’t dismissed him completely.”

I hated how my heart skipped a beat at her words. I didn’t him to be miserable, but if he was and she was admitting it, then that meant…

“We’re not on a date,” Clarissa added, accurately reading my silence. “We’re here as friends. He wanted to thank me for agreeing to our staged date after the photos. In fact…” She dropped her lipstick back in her bag. “We were discussing how much we are as friends.”

My anger drained away, replaced by relief and a hint of doubt. “So you’re not interested in him at all?”

Clarissa shook her head. “Kai and I grew up next to each other,” she said. “Our parents have pushed for us to be together since we were children. To them, it’s a business arrangement. An alliance between two old, powerful British Chinese families in a world where there aren’t many like us. But we were never close friends, and we didn’t talk for years before I moved here.”

She drew her bottom lip between her teeth. “I admit I was curious about him at first. He’s handsome, successful, and a decent person, which is exceedingly rare for someone with his wealth and status. But I realized that while he may look perfect on paper, the chemistry simply isn’t there. Not like…like it should be.” A delicate blush colored her cheeks.

“Oh,” I said again. For a writer, my ability to find the right words was distressingly low. “Well, that makes sense, but you didn’t have to tell me all of that.”

. “It doesn’t matter.”

. “Kai and I aren’t…we’re not together anymore. Obviously.”

I rummaged through my makeup bag, searching for nothing in particular. The adrenaline of running into Clarissa faded, and a crushing pressure returned to my chest.

She and Kai weren’t on a date, but that didn’t erase the reasons why we couldn’t be together. It just meant I had more time before he started dating someone else for real.

“If it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t have gotten so upset when I called him boring,” Clarissa said gently. She snapped her bag closed and faced me head-on. “You still care about him.”

“I never said I didn’t. That’s not why…” I trailed off, distracted by the flash of white around her wrist. It was a necklace wrapped up to be a bracelet, and it looked wildly out of place with her elegant outfit. It was also made of something suspiciously familiar.

Puka shells.

A memory from Christmasbirthdaynewyearpalooza slammed into me.

Clarissa was the director of artist relations at the Saxon Gallery—the same gallery that’d hosted Felix’s exhibition in December.

My eyes snapped up to hers. Her wide eyes and stricken expression was all the confirmation I needed.

Another thick silence between us.

A minute ago, I’d been worried about Kai and Clarissa. Now I found out she’s with my ?

Maybe I wasn’t actually at the bar. Maybe I passed out at the coffee shop and was having the most vivid dream of my life.

This time, Clarissa was the one who broke the silence. “Please don’t tell anyone yet.” She twisted the bracelet again, her blush deepening. “My family still thinks I’m interested in Kai, and I don’t…”

“I won’t tell anyone.” I, of all people, knew what it was like to keep a relationship secret.

She gave me a grateful smile. We’d crossed paths a few times before tonight, but she seemed more relaxed compared to our previous encounters. It was probably Felix’s influence; he could make even a clam open up.

We didn’t talk again until we exited the bathroom. I nearly crashed into Clarissa when she came to an abrupt halt. Her eyes swiveled between me and Kai, who was talking to another customer at the bar.

“You know what? I don’t feel well,” she said. “Can you tell Kai I had to leave and give him my sincerest apologies?”

“What? No, wait! You can tell him yourself. He’s right…there,” I finished as she blew out the door like a gust of wind.

There one second, gone the next.

. I knew Clarissa left to force me to talk to Kai, and it was working. I couldn’t leave him sitting there, wondering what’d happened to her.

I walked toward him, my limbs slow and heavy like I was moving underwater. Nerves cramped my stomach, and the curious, concerned stares of my friends weighed heavy on my skin as I mentally rehearsed what I was going to say.

Kai must’ve felt the heat of my stare because he looked up right as I approached. Our eyes locked, and time decelerated into a long, endless beat of yearning.

Skin flushed. Pulse pounding. Heart in my mouth.

Just like that, whatever chance I had of avoiding him slammed shut with bone-rattling finality.

Kai’s face didn’t betray any emotions when I stopped next to him and took Clarissa’s vacated seat. I would stand—easier and faster to escape that way—but I feared my knees would crumple and I’d collapse against him like one of those swooning maidens in vintage romance novels.

“I ran into Clarissa in the bathroom.”

. “She’s not feeling well, and she told me to tell you she had to leave.”

Fortunately, I didn’t mess up my lines.

fortunately, they came out hoarse and scratchy, like I was on the verge of tears.

“I see.” Kai’s expression was an impenetrable fortress. “Thank you for letting me know.”

The sound of his voice was so beautiful and familiar it evacuated the air from my lungs. It took every ounce of willpower not to dwell on how much I wanted to fall into his arms. To kiss him and pretend our breakup never happened and that we were still living in our happy bubble on Jade Cay.

The pressure in my chest doubled, and I was saved only by the bartender, who showed up a millisecond before I did something stupid like cry in the middle of a crowded room.

I shoved my emotions down and ordered a strawberry gin and tonic. I didn’t know what possessed me to order particular drink, but it was too late to change it.

Kai’s shoulders visibly stiffened. A fissure cracked his stony mask, and memories leaked into the air between us like ink spilling on a blank canvas.

relaxing?

I drew a shaky breath against the rise of tears and accepted my drink from the bartender. “I received an interesting email last week from a literary agent. Jill Sherman. I don’t suppose you know anything about that.”

I should’ve returned to my table, but I didn’t want to leave him yet. Being near him again was like coming home during a rainstorm. Warm. Safe.

Kai relaxed a smidge. “It depends,” he said, his tone measured. “What did she want?”

“She asked for a revise and resubmit.” I took a fortifying sip. “I made her edits and sent her the full manuscript tonight. That’s why we’re here.” I gestured at my friends, who quickly looked away and pretended they hadn’t been staring. “To celebrate.”

A flicker of pride softened Kai’s face. “You finished the book.”

“Yeah.” I mustered a weak smile. “Thanks to a handy digital typewriter.” It forced me to keep writing instead of going back and deleting every other sentence.

“It wasn’t the typewriter that wrote the story, Isabella,” he said, his voice low. “It was you.”

My heart twisted itself into knots. The last time we talked, I broke up with him and kicked him out of my apartment, yet he was still encouraging me like I hadn’t dragged us both into hell.

“Why did you do it?” I asked. “I thought you didn’t even read the manuscript. You never said anything…”

“If I’d said anything, you would’ve tried to stop me.” Kai gave a small shake of his head. “Perhaps I overstepped by sending it to Jill without consulting you, but I didn’t want you agonizing over it. Your story is , whether she accepted it or not.” His face softened further. “Although I’m glad she did.”

“Me too,” I whispered. I wasn’t upset with him for sending her the chapters; I was more upset at myself for not having the courage to send them earlier.

I used to think I was the one who pushed Kai out of his comfort zone, and maybe I did. But he did the exact same for me, only in a different way.

There was no growth without risk, no progress without change.

I’d broken up with him I was afraid of change. I’d prided myself on being bold and adventurous when really, I was a fucking coward who ran from rejection before rejection could find me.

Kai had never once expressed doubts about me. In fact, he believed in me so much he’d sent my manuscript to one of the top agents in the country. I was the one who’d projected my insecurities onto him, and those insecurities were based on what? Gabriel’s words? Leonora Young’s disapproval? My history of never seeing anything through?

At the end of the day, only the latter mattered because that was the only thing I had control over. I couldn’t change the way other people perceived me, but I could change the way I lived my life.

I was capable. The past week proved that. I’d finally finished something that was important to me, and if I could do it once, I could do it again.

The realization filled me with a burst of confidence that almost erased the ache in my chest.

“I heard about what happened in London,” I said softly. “Congratulations. I hope you celebrated.” If anyone deserved everything good in the world, it was him.

“I’m not CEO yet.” His smile contained such aching sadness it made every cell in body hurt. “And I haven’t been in the mood to celebrate.”

I dropped my eyes, unable to look at him any longer without feeling like someone was tearing my insides into shreds.

This time, the silence between us burst not with memories but with unspoken words. Thousands of them, swirling and hovering with nowhere to go.

Meanwhile, the bar was filling up. The manageable crowd from earlier had swelled to deafening proportions, and the music had switched from mellow jazz to up-tempo funk.

The noise. The people. The raw, blooming pressure beneath my skin.

They pressed against me until something snapped and I made a split-second decision.

I looked up, my gaze catching Kai’s again. “Let’s go somewhere quieter,” I said, hoping against hope I was doing the right thing. “We need to talk.”