“Well, what do you like to do?”
“This.” I open my palms towards her and shrug. “I like working with people. Making deals. Getting things done. I like being in charge. I always thought politics was it for me. This is what I wanted.”
“Well, surely you can start a business? If you can afford to take me out to a dinner like this, you can afford to start your own thing. You’d be in charge then, too.”
I sigh. “I guess I haven’t thought that far.”
“Well, as your lawyer, I would advise you to think a little further.” She leans forward, her face serious. “This is bad, Adrian.”
It’s the first time she’s used my name, and I love the way it sounds. I want her to say it again, over and over in my ear. She doesn’t have that hatred in her eyes right now, she’s looking at me openly, sincerely. She looks like she genuinely cares.
What she doesn’t know is that I’ve hardly got any friends. I pushed everyone away when I got into politics, and the friends that I do have are turning their backs on me. How do you start a business when you have no contacts?
Our waitress arrives to take our food orders, and my eyebrows arch when Stella orders a steak. When the waitress walks away, I grin.
“Filet mignon, huh? Didn’t take you for a steak girl.”
“No? What did you take me for?”
“Maybe a salad. Isn’t that what women usually order on a date?”
She laughs, shaking her head. Stella picks up her glass of wine and points it at me. “First of all, this isn’t a date. Second of all, I’m not going to order a salad when someone else is picking up the bill.”
“Feels like a date to me,” I grin. “Wine, dinner, conversation about our hopes and dreams.”
“If this is what your dates are like, then I truly feel sorry for you.”
“At least if you’re pitying me, you’re not hating me.”
She smiles, shaking her head. She tilts her head to the side and stares at my face. Her eyes are bright and intelligent. Her hair, usually tied back in a neat bun, is tumbling around her shoulders. A candle flickers on our table, throwing shadows all over her soft features.
She sighs. “Why did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Push everyone away. Pursue this political career that will leave you with nothing and no one.”
I chew my lip and take a deep breath. “I guess… I don’t know. I’ve always been goal-oriented. Liam was always a star. Everyone knew who he was, and I was the brother of the Olympian. So I guess I just wanted to make my mark.”
“Good old sibling rivalry, hey?”
“Isn’t that why you’ve been reconsidering your desire not to have kids?”
“I wouldn’t call that rivalry,” she laughs. “I’m glad for my sister. She’s happy.”
“But you want what she has.”
Stella says nothing. She sips her wine and sets it back down on the white tablecloth, keeping her fingers on the delicate stem. She swallows, and then looks up at me.
“You’re different than I thought you’d be.”
“How so?”
“You’re lonelier.”
7
Stella
By the time I leave the restaurant, my head is spinning. Adrian is a hard man to hate. He walks me over to my car and for a crazy second, I think he’s going to kiss me.
He stands next to my car and looks into my eyes. When he’s this close to me, I realize how tall he is. He’s built like an athlete—muscular and lean. His eyes are dark, and his face is cast in shadows. He lifts his eyes up to the sky and takes a deep breath.
“Thanks for agreeing to come out tonight,” he says, looking back down at me.
I take a deep breath and his musky, manly scent fills my nostrils. I’m surprised at how much I like his smell.
I nod. “Despite being blackmailed into coming, I actually didn’t have a terrible time.”
He grins and a bolt of lightning goes through my chest. I still think he’s a bad person, but I can’t help but like it when he smiles at me. His smile widens, and my insides turn to goo. My womb aches and my knees knock together as he stares into my eyes. His tongue slides out to lick his lips, and he takes a deep breath.
“I’ll see you on Monday for that progress meeting.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I nod, playing with my car keys in my hands. “Yeah.”
Telling Ashley about Adrian being a client is harder than I expected. We’re at a coffee shop—me with my latte and her with an herbal tea, and she’s telling me about her latest doctor’s appointment. Apparently, Liam is studying later and later every night, and she’s having trouble keeping up with everything at work.
She sighs. “I just don’t know how I’ll handle it all once the baby comes.”
“I’ll help as much as I can,” I say.
Ashley smiles. “You’ve done so much for me already, Stella. Plus, you work more than I do. How’s work going, anyway? I’ve just been talking about myself for the past thirty minutes.”
This is it. This is my chance to work my news into the conversation. It’s a clear opening, and I can come clean to my sister. I can tell her everything and get it over with.
Just like a Band-Aid. Rip it off, Stella. Say the words.
But then, her face lights up and she puts a hand on her stomach. “He’s kicking,” she giggles.
The moment is gone, and I lose my nerve. I don’t want to ruin her day. I don’t want to pile more stress on top of her or make her feel like she can’t talk to me. She needs me more than ever. She’s overwhelmed, and things are only going to get more difficult when the baby comes.
So, I say nothing.
It’s cowardly, but I keep telling myself that I’m doing it for her sake. Plus, I haven’t figured out how I feel. Last week, it would have been easier. I could have explained that I despise Adrian Maguire and I’m only taking the case because otherwise I’d lose my job.
But now, after last night… I’m not so sure. I still hate what he did and I hate how he hurt my sister. But at the same time, he’s human.
If this was his master plan, it’s working. He’s no longer the enemy, and a growing part of me actually wants to help him.
I regret not telling her for the entire drive back to my house. I park my car in the garage and take a deep breath, beating myself up for not having the nerve to have a hard conversation.
I’m a grown-ass woman, a successful lawyer, a boss in my own right… and I can’t talk to my little sister about something difficult. It’s pathetic.
I sigh and slip out of the car. I slam the door and frown—there’s a noise coming from the side of the house. It sounds a lot like banging. Dropping my purse back in the car, I make my way towards the sound. It gets louder as I make my way along the side of the house, and when I turn the corner to the back yard I exhale.
“Mark?”
My ex-boyfriend turns around. He’s shirtless, his blonde, sun-kissed hair shining in the late summer sun. His tool belt is hanging low on his hips, and he reaches up to his mouth to remove a couple nails he was holding between his lips.
“Stella! Babe! What’s up?”
“Babe?” I frown. “What are you doing here?”
“Fixing the deck. It’s not safe, and you said you’d have someone fix it before the end of the summer. You shouldn’t even be standing on it.”
I cast my eye around his work area—he must have been here for a couple hours. He’s got a circular saw out and fresh timber lying beside the deck. He’s already fixed four rotting planks and is working on a fifth.
Walking towards him, I hold my hands up and shake my head.
“You can’t just show up here, Mark. You don’t live here anymore. We broke up a year ago!”
“I didn’t want you to hurt yourself.” He turns back to the deck and hammers two nails in with one stroke each. His toned, muscular body is gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat. I watch as he inspects the next
few planks and then moves over to remove another rotten section. “You’ll have to get this sanded down and stained again. It doesn’t look like it’s been done in about ten years. Really, you should just rip up the whole deck and start over, but at least this way you won’t break your ankle.”
“Mark.” He ignores me, pulling out his tape measure to measure up a new plank. “Mark,” I say again, a bit louder.
He grunts.
“Mark!” Finally he looks at me, his eyebrows raised. His chest heaves as he inhales, and then his abs contract with his exhale. I take a deep breath. I remember curling my fingers into his chest hair, nuzzling into his body like it was where I belonged. I thought I’d be with him forever, but then it all fell apart, just like everything else in my life.
I shake my head. I’m trembling. “You have to leave.”
He points to the deck. “I’ve got at least a couple hours left in this.”
“You. Need. To. Leave. We are not together. You don’t live here anymore. I will fix my own deck in my own time.”
He frowns, sliding his hammer into his tool belt. “Stella.” He takes a step towards me, holding his arms out by his sides. “Come on. I’m just trying to help. You’ll break your ankle on this deck.”
“I don’t even use it. I’m working most of the time, anyway.”
He nods to the patio furniture, with last night’s teacup still sitting on the table. My cheeks flush and I shake my head, nodding it towards the back gate. “You need to go.”
The look he gives me breaks my heart. He looks like a sad puppy, if I had just kicked it and then told it to get lost. My chest burns and tears sting my eyes. I turn away from him as he gathers his tools. He stacks the rest of the timber planks along the deck.
“I’ll leave those there. I bought them for you, so you can just get someone else to put them in.”
I nod, not looking at him and not saying anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him staring at me for a few seconds. Then, he sighs and turns towards the back gate. I can see the cab of his pickup truck parked in the alley outside the fence. It’s only when I hear him drive away that I let myself exhale. I deflate like an old balloon, leaning against my patched-up deck and sighing.
I make my way back to my car, grab my purse and shut the garage door. Then, I go inside and stare out the kitchen window. The new deck planks look like zebra stripes against the old ones. I open the sliding glass door and step outside, testing the new wood with a foot.
It’s solid.
I grab the mug from the patio table and head back inside, slamming the door behind me. I put the mug in the dishwasher, and then start cleaning in a frenzy. I need to let off some steam. I just chickened out from telling my sister some really, really important news and then my ex showed up at my house unannounced. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that. Am I supposed to be flattered? I just feel vaguely violated.
I scrub the floors, sweeping and mopping and vacuuming until sweat is beading on my forehead.
It takes about two hours for me to slow down. By that point, I’ve cleaned the kitchen and two bathrooms so that they’re gleaming and tidied up the living room and dining room. I sigh, slumping down on the couch. Then, I reach for my phone and see a message from my ex-boyfriend.
Mark: I’m sorry. I should have called before showing up. I can give you the number for a buddy of mine who can finish the deck for you if you don’t want me to do it.
That’s when I start crying. I’m a mess. I’m barely holding myself together, and I don’t even know why it’s so hard. I have a good job, I have a family that loves me, I have savings and investments and I’m ticking every box except the ‘getting married and having kids’ box, which I never even wanted to tick in the first place.
But now, I’m just confused.
Maybe Ashley’s pregnancy hormones are making me crazy, too. Is that a thing?
I read Mark’s message again and guilt starts to seep into my heart. He was trying to help me, and I kicked him out.
Why did our relationship fall apart anyway? I remember fighting a lot at the end, but maybe it was just a rough patch that I gave up on. Maybe Mark wasn’t the problem.
Maybe he’s the best I can do, and I’ve thrown away my only shot at happiness. What’s the alternative? Tinder? Online dating? Cats?
Stella: I’m sorry I kicked you out. Thank you for the wood.
Mark: If I had a nickel for every time a woman said that to me…
I laugh despite myself, and I remember why I started dating him. We were together for nearly a year, which was the longest relationship I’ve had in the past decade.
I sigh and stare at the phone. I want to text him back. I want to tell him to come over, to fix my deck, to give me some more wood, to hold me and kiss me until I don’t feel so empty inside.
My fingers hover over the keys and I bite my lip. He’d be here in ten minutes—I know he would. I could bury my face in his chest hair and feel human skin against mine for one night.
I bite my lip again. I already know I’m losing this battle. I’m going to text him, it’s just a matter of time. It’ll be messy, we’ll end up fighting about something, and I’ll make myself feel worse. But for one night, I could have someone beside me.
I start typing a message when my doorbell rings. I glance at the door and jump when someone starts banging on it.
“Stella!” My sister’s voice calls out. She sounds anxious. “Stella, I know you’re there! Stella!”
“Coming!” I glance at my phone and sigh, turning the screen off.
When I open the door, Ashley comes barreling through. She takes a couple steps and spins around towards me, her chest heaving up and down as she stares at me.
I close the door and turn to face her, frowning.
Her eyes blaze. She shakes her head. “When the fuck were you going to tell me that you’re defending that prick of a mayor we have?! Huh? When?!”
My heart drops.
Shit.
8
Adrian
“We have a problem.” Barry’s furry eyebrows draw together and his moustache trembles. I nod, opening the door wider to let him in.
We’re at the back service door of the mayor’s Residence, but I still check to see if anyone has seen him come in. Satisfied that he’s been able to move undetected, I close the door and follow him to the small living room around the corner.
“What’s going on?”
“Ashley King is going to be deposed.”
“What?” I exhale, bringing my hand to my forehead. “I thought she was going to be left out of it? How did the DA find out about her?”
Barry purses his lips. “Something about leaving the construction company that’s being investigated, and then two days later starting work at your brother’s foundation.”
I sit down on an overstuffed couch, leaning my elbows on my knees. I stare at the Persian carpet, letting my eyes follow the intricate patterns as I try to make sense of what Barry’s telling me.
Barry has been my loyal investigator for almost a decade. He worked for my parents before me and has been an invaluable source of information since I started this political journey. I trust him implicitly.
He’s still standing with his arms crossed over his barrel chest. “If she tells them about Police Chief White, this whole thing could get a hell of a lot messier. It’ll go from everyday construction corruption to high-level, jailable offenses.”
“They’re already jailable offenses,” I snap.
Barry scoffs. “People don’t give a fuck about construction, but they sure as hell care when you fuck with the police, Adrian. This isn’t the same league.”
I take a deep breath. I told Stella I would keep her sister out of it—I promised her that I would let her tell her sister that she was part of my defense team in her own time. Now, the clock is ticking. If she doesn’t already know that Stella is one of my lawyers, she’ll know soon enough.
“Ashley wasn’t supposed to be
part of this.”
“She’s the link between you, Hansen Constructions, and the police. She was always going to be part of this.”
“I know what she is,” I sigh, rubbing my temples. “This is bad.”
Barry makes a noise and finally sits down in the couch across from me. He crosses his ankle over his knee and spreads his arms across the back of the couch. He stares at me with dark eyes.
“What do you want me to do?”
I stare at him, wondering what he’s actually asking me. I don’t really know what he’s capable of, or what he thinks I want from him. Much of our relationship consists of him dealing with things and me not asking any questions.
I sigh and shake my head. “Let me make a couple phone calls. I’ll let you know later tonight if I need you to do anything.”
Barry nods, heaving himself off the couch and padding out of the room. I hear the latch on the back door shut gently, and I blow all the air out of my lungs. For a large man, he moves surprisingly silently. I glance around the corner to make sure the door is closed, and then I walk over to lock it. Glancing out the window, I can’t even see which direction Barry went.
I shiver. At least he’s on my team, and not working against me.
Taking a deep breath, I walk over to the kitchen. I know what I need to do, but I’m dreading it. I need to call Stella and ask her what’s going on with her sister—what she’ll say, what she knows, how she feels about all this. It kills me to put Stella in the middle of this mess, but I don’t see another option. Unless I get out in front of it, this little investigation about a construction project will turn into a brutal, national-news-making headline.
The phone rings three times before she picks up.
“Yes?” I can’t read her voice. She says nothing more, and I take a deep breath.
“I need to talk to you.”
She scoffs. “Oh, you need to talk to me, do you? Hold on, Mr. Mayor. I’ll be right over. Just bend over when you open the door and I can kiss your ass while I’m at it.”
Ruined: An Enemies to Lovers Romance Page 4
