What We Need

EMERALD

“I think you got kicked out of your apartment.” Tate chuckled as I stomped out of my building less than five minutes later.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” I blinked at him, completely confused at the sight of cotton lounge pants and a T-shirt.

“I told you I don’t always wear suits, Emerald.” He rolled his eyes and opened the passenger door of the car he was leaning against.

“Where’s Dale?” I looked inside.

“I don’t know. Probably at home.” He shrugged. “Are you going to get in or what?”

“Who’s driving?” I asked, looking at him skeptically.

“Who do you think? Casper the friendly fucking ghost? Get in the car.” He rolled his eyes and walked around to get in the driver’s seat.

“Do you even have a license?” I asked as I got in and closed the door.

“Shockingly, yes. I don’t ~always~ have someone drive me around.” He snorted. “I’m almost offended that you think I’m that spoiled.”

“Aren’t you?” I asked as I buckled the seat belt and made sure it was secure.

“When I have to be.” He shrugged as he pulled onto the street.

“Okay, I have to ask. Where the hell do you keep the normal clothes? I’ve seen your closet, Tate.” I shook my head and looked him up and down. Twice.

“An alternate dimension.” He snorted. “It’s called a dresser.”

“That’s not for decoration?” I gasped.

“Seriously?” he asked flatly.

“I’m sorry, but you’ve fractured my mind. Normal-people clothes, you’re driving yourself, and you’re making jokes. I can’t deal.” I shook my head.

“Wait. The mole people got to you, didn’t they? Is this a cry for help? Have they brainwashed you into being independent?”

“You are laying it on thick tonight, aren’t you?” He chuckled.

“Do you honestly expect any different?” I said and looked around the car. “Fancy wheels, Mole Tate.”

“‘Mole Tate?’” He laughed, then pointed at a button on the center console. “Look. Heated seats, too.”

“Oh-ho, I am totally pampering my ass tonight,” I said as I hit the button. “How long does it ta—oh. Oh, that’s nice.”

Tate laughed and shook his head. I wasn’t sure where he was taking me, but I didn’t care. I wiggled down deeper into the seat and sighed blissfully. A girl could get used to this.

“Sorry it’s not the Italian leather, but premium upholstery is more comfortable,” he said, smirking through the windshield.

“That’s okay. Leather is totally a Mr. King thing.” I yawned.

“My dad?” He sounded confused.

“No. Right now, you’re Tate. You’re funny and relaxed and completely out in left field, lobbing curve balls at my ass with these texts in the middle of the night.” I giggled and pulled my feet up underneath me.

“Mr. King, on the other hand, is a hard ass and kind of a dick more often than not. But I don’t think Mr. King is the real you.

“I think the Tate side is the actual you. I think you use Mr. King to keep people at a distance and to keep your reputation in the office solid. I don’t think you need to be such a dick, but it is effective.”

“It’s not just the office,” he said after a moment. “It’s my family, too. Not exactly to the extent as at the office, but I don’t get to be just Tate often.

“Aside from you, Vince is the only one that’s somehow managed to get me out of that part of my head.”

“Is that why you text at stupid o’clock?” I asked.

“Partially.” He shrugged. “A lot of people hate me when I’m being the bossy asshole, which is always.

“I kind of like being able to just pick up the phone and talk to someone as just me. Vince is more irritable than you are, so I text you.”

“Well, for the record, I don’t hate Mr. King.” I looked out the window. “You annoy the hell out of me, though.”

“I’m pretty sure you wanted to take my head off and feed it to a pack of stray dogs this morning,” he said and shifted in his seat. “I’m sorry about how that went. I let my frustration get to me.”

“I can imagine how you ended up frustrated.” I snorted. “Some power play from the grave, huh?”

Tate sighed as he pulled into a parking garage and turned the car off.

“I’ve been running that company, by myself, for three years.” He laid his head back on the headrest.

“Now, everything I’ve worked for and put into the damn thing is about to be ripped out from under me, and I’ll have nothing to show for it when it’s gone.”

“Rubble and ash if Devon gets his hands on it. Memories and a few cheap bucks if Leo gets it.” I shook my head. “There’s no way, no loopholes or sub-clauses, that can overrule the will?”

“Not one that jumps out, and my grandmother is being tight-fisted about who gets so much as a blink at the will.” He shook his head.

“We only have images of pieces of the will, not the whole thing, so there’s no telling what the old bastard has hidden between the lines.”

“So, the best option is to play along or let the business go to one of your brothers.” I nodded.

“You’ve only been with the company for ten months, but you’ve been beside ~me~ the entire time. You know more about what’s at stake than anyone else.”

He rolled his head to look at me. “That’s why I thought of you when this stupid marriage clause came up.”

“Does it matter? I mean, surely you’ll have a prenup or something, so it doesn’t really matter who you pick. After a suitable amount of time passes, you get a divorce and it’s like it never happened.” I frowned.

“No, Emerald.” He sighed. “Part of the marriage clause clearly states that there be no prenup in place at any point. So I can’t pick just anyone. I can’t ~trust~ just anyone.”

“And you trust me? Why?” I asked, confused.

“Honestly?” He blew out a heavy breath. “I’m not sure why. I think it’s all of those little things you’ve done since you started working for me.

“You went toe to toe with Vince before you knew he was my lawyer; you shut Leo up when he started spewing on and on about selling.

“My father is scared shitless of you and refuses to come in and risk pissing you off again. What did you even do to him, by the way?”

He was laughing as he got out of the car, and I came around to stand beside him.

“I may or may not have told him that if he wanted to keep butting into how you were running things, you’d gladly take the clients that were under contracts in your name with you when you left.”

I grinned and put my hands behind my back.

“I’m pretty sure he knew it was an empty threat, but seeing as those clients now amount to hundreds of millions when the contracts mature, I’m willing to bet he’s not going to take that chance.”

“That’s it?” He tilted his head.

“Vince isn’t here, but he’d caution me not to say anything else if he knew what else I said.” I smirked.

“Don’t worry, though. I’m not stupid enough to ever follow through. Not unless you tell me to, anyhow.”

“Are you keeping secrets from me, Emerald?” He narrowed his eyes at me.

“You bet my pampered ass I am.” I laughed. “I’ll take them to my grave, too.”

“Unless I tell you otherwise, right?”

“Only the one, Tate.” I patted his shoulder. “Nice try, though.”

“And that’s another reason you’re perfect, Emerald.” He shook his head and led me to the elevator. “I can literally tell you I murdered someone and you’d never breathe a word of it to anyone.”

“I’d certainly have your suit dry-cleaned by morning, though.” I held up a finger as we walked inside. “So, you just need a piece of paper? That simple?”

“God, no. Marriage licenses are cheap to fake, but the actual relationship isn’t. ~That’s~ the part I need.” He shook his head.

“Gran has to approve, which means she has to believe the marriage isn’t just to win the company. Basically, it has to be ~real~.”

“God, Tate!” I whisper-yelled. “I am ~not~ going to trick an eighty-nine-year-old woman!”

“Look, I’m going to be candid, Emerald. I’ve been under pressure to marry for some time now and it’s getting fucking annoying.” He groaned.

“I don’t want a relationship because I don’t see it as worth making the effort for. I can put that into something with more meaning.

“The charities, the outreach programs, the shot of life King Industries strives to give the communities that house us.”

“You’ve never wanted ~more~ than one night? What about Ms. Royce?” I asked. The elevator doors opened, and we walked into his penthouse. “Hold up. How did we get up here?”

“Private elevator, Emerald. There are perks to being spoiled.” He chuckled, tossing his keys into a bowl by the ~hidden~ elevator entrance.

“It always bugged the hell out of me that this table was just here for no freaking reason, but there was a reason ~the whole time~!” I stared at the offending table. “The fuck, Tate?”

“I’ve never fucked Royce. I’m not that desperate for sex.” He rolled his eyes.

“Do I even want to know how you open this thing again? It’s freaking seamless.” I examined the wall.

“I was entertaining her obnoxious flirting because I needed to close a deal with her father before I finally got to slam the door in her face,” he said and waved his hand over the wall, making a ~hidden keypad~ light up.

Then, he picked up his keys and showed me a tiny disk on the key ring. “You can go down, but without this, you don’t go up.”

“You really are spoiled.” I put my hand on my hip.

“And no, I’ve never wanted more than one night. The thought of anything longer with any of the women I’ve been with makes my skin crawl,” he said, putting the keys back.

“So, that’s the reason!” I pointed at him as he walked to the kitchen. “That’s why you picked me! You’ve never slept with me, so it’s not repulsive!”

“You aren’t entirely wrong.” He shrugged. “Water?”

“‘Not entirely wrong’ also means ‘not entirely right,’ as well,” I said, taking the bottle and twisting the top off. “So, what ~is~ wrong?”

“Even if I did have sex with you, I’d still pick you,” he said, leaning on the counter by the fridge and crossing his arms.

“If I were inclined to put anything into a relationship, I’ve always pictured someone a lot like you, actually. Maybe not as short.”

“I’m not short, asshole.” I threw a potholder at him. “I’m above average.”

“Average for who? A shrimp?” He snorted when it flipped over and fell depressingly short of actually hitting him.

“Just because you’re a freak of nature doesn’t mean the rest of us are short.” I pouted.

“I’m not a freak of nature.” He chuckled.

“Six-four is tall, Tate. You’re six-six. I’d say that’s freakish.” I gestured to him.

“I’m a whole foot taller than you, Shrimp.” He patted my head.

“No the fuck you aren’t.” I swatted at his hand, feeling a lot like a kitten batting at an adult cat. “I am five-eight, thanks.”

“That’s short as shit.” He laughed.

“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes.

“Jokes aside, I can’t think of anyone else I trust enough or is better suited for what I’m asking.” He got serious again, then held up a hand to stop me from speaking.

“I’m not asking for an answer right now, Emerald. I’m not even asking for one a week from now, but I do need an answer. Sooner than later, preferably.”

“You aren’t asking for a cup of sugar or for me to watch your dog for a weekend, Tate.” I rubbed my temples. “You’re literally asking me to marry you. That’s kind of a big deal. Life-altering, even.”

“Oh, very life-altering.” He nodded in agreement.

“Wait.” I glared at him. “Why did you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re going to say things that are going to make me want to throw a fish at your face.” I narrowed my eyes at him further.

“I’d like to know what goes on in your head sometimes.” He smirked. “And I’m probably going to say things that will… Why a fish?”

“Tate. Focus.” I snapped my fingers.

“I’m asking you to marry me ~for real~, Emerald. All of it,” he said.

“~All~ of it?” I squeaked.

“I’m not expecting sex.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to say no to it, either, if it’s what you want. But I won’t tolerate cheating. This is monogamous for both of us.”

“That’s…agreeable. Can you really go however long we’ll be married ~without~ sex?” I asked, pressing my thumbnail under the ring at the top of my water bottle.

“I’m going to be getting very familiar with my hand, but yes,” he answered without hesitation.

“And is there any idea as to how long we’ll be married?” I asked. “I’m not agreeing, but I want to know what, exactly, you’re asking for here.”

“As of last month, we have one year to meet all the guidelines my grandfather set. Then, the board members will meet to discuss the best candidate,” he said thoughtfully.

“That could take months. Then there’s the paperwork and legal hoops to jump through. I hadn’t actually thought about it, honestly. I’d guess, from now, maybe two years?”

“That’s… That’s not that long, right? Only a hundred and four weeks.” I made a face.

“I know something my brothers don’t, though.” He smirked. “They think that because our father ran things, now that Gramps is gone, he’s the interim owner.”

“He’s not?” I frowned in confusion. “Who is?”

“My grandmother. She was beside my grandfather from the very beginning of King Industries and helped it grow into the empire it is now.” He grinned a toothy smile.

“There’s not a single mention in the will about needing her approval, but I think having her approval will help.

“Before you go off on a rant about tricking an old woman, we aren’t tricking her. She’s far too sharp for any trick to work anyhow.”

“So what exactly are you suggesting?”

“We make it real.” He shrugged.

“Wha-how in the heck do you plan to make a relationship that’s completely fabricated, real?”

I put my water down and paced around in the kitchen.

“Making up a history that never happened and saying it did? Unless this penthouse has a hidden time machine in the toilet, I don’t see how you could make that kind of a lie real.”

“Well, there is no time-traveling toilet, but there ~is~ history.” He chuckled. “So, we’re doing things a little backward.”

“And on freaking fast forward, Tate!” I snapped. “Let me make sure that what I have in my head is right. You’re asking me to marry you.”

“Right. We’ve established that.” He nodded.

“And after we’re married, you want to what? Date me?” I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Basically, yes.” He nodded again.

“That’s not a little backward, Tate. That’s completely backward.” I sighed and sank, in a very unladylike flop, onto a stool at the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“We’ve been talking for months, Emerald. It’s not ~completely~ backward.” He shrugged. “Mostly, perhaps, but not totally.”

“I can’t think straight.” I groaned and laid my head on my arms. “There has been enough going on today, I can’t take any more.”

“That’s fine. I told you, I don’t need an answer right away,” he said and pushed off the counter to lean on the opposite side of the island from me.

“Want to tell me what happened after you went home?”

“My mother was taken to the hospital,” I whispered.

“Her illness?” he asked.

“More or less. It’s the cause, no doubt, but there have to be some pretty big choices and changes soon,” I said, picking at the cuticle of my nail.

“She can’t be left alone anymore. Lance has to go back on deployment in a month and I can’t move back home.

“Even if I could make the commute, she’d still be alone for hours before the home nurse comes in. I sure as shit can’t move her into my broom closet apartment with me.”

“I’m sorry she’s sick, Emerald.” Tate put his hand over mine, stopping me from making a mess of my hands.

“You said your dad died of cancer. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, having that happen all over again.”

“It’s different with Mom. With Dad, he kind of wasted away. He got thinner and thinner and so weak and tired.

“Mom looks completely healthy, and she will keep looking healthy while this ~thing~ keeps taking pieces of her away from us,” I spat, then I sighed and slumped back down to lay my head on the cool stone. “I’m tired, Tate.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked.

Once again, I was kind of caught off guard by how sincere he sounded.

I don’t know why exactly. Maybe because I always talked to Tate in texts and Mr. King in person. Right now, those two worlds were colliding while mine felt like it was on a doomsday timer to implosion.

“Yeah, but I’m not going to ask. Not until I’m thinking clearly again.” I sighed and sat up again.

“Why did you come get me before Lance gave me the boot? Is it because you’re trying to convince me to marry you?”

“No. I would have come to be with you even if none of this bullshit was happening,” he said firmly and walked around the island, pulling the stool next to me closer before sitting down.

“It might shock you to know, Emerald, that I actually care about things that aren’t work.”

“It’s not shocking.” I sighed. “Okay, it kind of is, but only because I’m seeing Mr. King and hearing Tate, which is more confusing than shocking.”

“You sounded like you needed something.

“I didn’t even notice I had left until I was in my car already,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder and pulling me gently, leading me in for an awkward twisted hug while my forehead rested on his shoulder.

“I don’t know what you need, Emerald, but if I have it, you can take it.”

I shifted until I was a little more comfortable and closed my eyes. I don’t even remember the last time someone hugged me because I needed it.

I was the one doing the comforting for as far back as high school. Six years? Really? I’ve been missing out on this for ~six years~?

How could I have forgotten what it felt like to get a comforting hug from someone?

I shuddered as the walls I had built to hold everything back fell into dust, and a choked sound clawed its way out of my throat.

I held on to Tate’s shoulders a little harder, and he moved his arms lower to move me from my stool to straddle his lap.

“I’ve got you, Emerald,” he whispered and rubbed my back. “It’s okay to break. I won’t lose the pieces.”

That sounded like a really good idea, actually. So, I did what he said, and I broke.