It would be a betrayal. Both to the promise I’d made and to the other Tarots that had stood beside me through it all without knowing what I hoped to achieve.
But that wasn’t the most painful aspect, although it should’ve been.
There was a very good chance that spilling my secret to Emily here and now would be the closing curtain on us. Disappointment would twist her features, followed by a healthy dose of disgust and maybe a bit of fear.
She’d leave, and I would lose this fragile sense of peace and balance that she gave me.
She’d be gone, and for all the money and power at my fingertips, there wouldn’t be a goddamn thing I could do about it.
“Ro,” she breathed against my lips.
I blinked. When had she gotten so close?
“You can keep your secrets,” she said, peppering kisses down my jaw, my neck, my chest. She didn’t stop. “At least for now.”
“I should tell you.” I grunted when soft fingers wrapped around the waistband of my underwear and tugged.
“You should,” she agreed, dragging her tongue along my shaft. “And you will. Just not tonight. For now, take the rain check, LaCroix.”
Emily took me into the wet heat of her mouth on a low moan.
History was officially made; she left me speechless.
28
Ambrose
Mrs. Pierce—my parent’s aging receptionist at their uptown law firm—stared at me like I’d grown a second head instead of answering my question. I slid to the right of her desk to make sure there wasn’t something on the wall behind me instead, but no, her gaze followed me exactly.
Confused, I ran my fingers through my hair, wondering if it had somehow returned to its pre-shower state. I wouldn’t have been entirely surprised. Emily had done a number on it this morning when I woke her up with my face between her legs. But when I glanced into the mirror near her desk, my hair was fine.
“You’re...” she started, blinking several times.
She left me hanging.
I almost laughed, but when she puffed air from her cheeks and shook her head, concern came instead. “Are you alright, Mrs. Pierce?” I knew Mom and Dad weren’t easy to keep up with. That was why they had a seventy-year-old woman manning their front desk when she’d earned the right to be at home knitting and watching reruns of black and white shows...or whatever the hell older women did in their spare time. “Do you need some water?”
“Well slap my ass and call me Sally.” She pushed her chair back so she could stand and come around the oversized, onyx desk. “I should be asking you that question, young man.” She put the back of her hand against my forehead. “Doesn’t feel like you have a fever, but something must be wrong.”
“With me?”
What the hell was she going on about?
I looked around the office for assistance, but everyone was busy doing their own work. A few sets of eyes noticed me. They made sure to look away so fast it needed a sound effect. I wasn’t going to blame them. Mom had hung up her metaphorical cape, but you never truly stopped being a Tarot.
No one wanted to be caught not doing their work. No one other than the old lady who had put her glasses on so she could squint at me more easily. She’d be the only one safe from Mom’s wrath.
She patted me on the cheek and I stepped away, scowling.
“That’s more like it,” she said, nodding to herself. “You came in here smiling a minute ago, then asked how I was doing. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that I thought something was seriously wrong with you.”
I smile.
My mouth opened to confirm just that, and I stopped myself. Whatever this was, I didn’t have time to get into it. I had plans for the day, and I’d already wasted enough time as it was coming out here because my parents couldn’t be bothered to answer their phones.
“Are they in?” I asked her, tipping my head in the direction of their office.
“They have another meeting in about ten minutes, but yes, they should be back there.” She took her glasses off. “Now, are you going to tell me what put that smile on your face?”
“No,” I answered, already walking away.
I knocked twice on the mahogany door before letting myself in. Mom sat behind her desk, flipping through a binder before I caught her attention. Dad sat in a chair in front of her, legs kicked up on the desk and his tie clutched in a fist that hung at his side.
Mom’s frown showed up within a heartbeat. “What are you doing here? You hate coming to the office.”
Dad turned in his seat as I moved closer and took the one beside him. His raised brow was a mirror image of mine—or was that the other way around?—and I could read the question in that simple gesture. Made easier since he was asking the same thing she just did.
“It doesn’t look like anything’s on fire,” I said, voice dry. “So is there a reason that neither of you have answered the last six times I called?”
Dad patted his pockets.
Mom grabbed her purse and rifled through it.
When they were done, they shared a long look. Dad chuckled. Mom’s cheeks tinted the slightest shade of pink.
“Breakroom,” they said in unison.
“Jesus!” I covered my face. “Seriously? At the office? Doesn’t that break some kind of company code?”
Dad’s chuckle turned into an outright laugh. “I’m going to give you a difficult choice here, son. Your mom and I can go into the details of our sex life and how we’ve kept things fresh for almost thirty years, or we can skip ahead to what you need. What’ll it be?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose to try and distract myself from the fuck this is wrong shivers traversing my spine, I took a few steadying breaths. There really wasn’t a choice here and they both knew that. Being aware of their healthy sex life was already so much more than I needed to fucking know.
Where was the brain bleach when you really needed it?
“I’m not going to bother answering that,” I said. “I just needed some information.”
Mom’s entire demeanor chilled like someone had dunked her in liquid nitrogen. Her movements slowed and she closed the binder, focusing on me. Amber eyes settled on my face, cataloguing every single detail down to the slightest nick on my neck where I’d cut myself shaving the other day.
“On who?” she asked. Her voice was soft, lulling, quiet enough that I wanted to lean in to hear what else was coming before noticing this was my own damn trick turned up to eleven and completely mastered. “Is someone in the city out of line?” Her gaze sharpened. “Is it Thornwood? I know you paid them a visit. Say the word and I’ll—”
“Mom,” I cut her off, reaching across the desk to put my hand above hers briefly. “Take it down a notch for me. Nothing is happening that I can’t handle.”
Except for everything.
I’m no closer to figuring out how to get the rest of the Tarots back in line. My debt still hangs over me, a dirge I can’t stop hearing unless a girl I thought I hated is close by. Even though she relaxes me, she also drives me batshit insane and I genuinely considered locking her in my room this morning when she said she had to go.
I had no idea how to handle myself when it came to Emily. Pushing her away hadn’t worked, but now that I had her close, it seemed like I only wanted her closer still.
I wanted her all to myself, and that was a dangerous pursuit given how willing she was to give me her ass to kiss when I annoyed her.
You could always just...ask them what they think.
I glanced between my parents while they watched me, and the idea fizzled out before it could form. Their relationship was at Hollywood levels of nauseatingly perfect. How the hell would I bring them up to speed without revealing what a dick I’d been?
They’d be disappointed.
I’d be pissed at myself for failing them.
The whole situation wouldn’t become any easier to wrap my head around.
Yeah, I didn’t like where that conversation woul
d lead. So, being who I am, I decided to skip the entire thing. Cutting right to the chase, I leaned forward on my elbows and said, “Are there any local shelters that take baked goods?”
You’d think I put on a tutu, shaved my head, and started a wobbly line dance by the way they stared. At least Dad blinked a few times, shifting in his seat. Mom was busy doing the robot, and I didn’t mean the dance move. She remained utterly motionless for a pregnant minute, the only sign of life coming from her brows bunching together.
They exchanged another quick look.
“You...baked?” she asked.
“Even saying I helped would be a stretch.” I shook my head. “Emily made more cupcakes than the guys and I could eat.”
“Emily Brennan,” Dad said, sitting up in his chair. “The girl you disappeared with during brunch the other day?”
“She wasn’t feeling well,” flopped from my mouth and I mentally cursed myself.
Dad chuckled. “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, son. I didn’t ask you to explain it then and I’m not asking now. I’m making sure I’ve got my facts correct is all.”
“Right.”
I rubbed my neck, wishing more than anything that they’d answered their phones so I didn’t have to do this in person. Mom reverted to giving me strange looks again, and Dad wasn’t much better with his knowing smirk. Was that how people saw me? No wonder I could push buttons so easily.
That shit was infuriating to see.
Silence crept in and I cleared my throat to stop it. “This is the part where someone gives me some ideas. I’ve got several dozen cupcakes in the parking garage right now—in a cooler, but still. I don’t want to just take them anywhere.”
Mom closed her laptop and folded her hands on top of it. “Why not?”
“Because that’s what—”
I managed to stop myself before, that’s what Emily would want, emerged from my lips. There’d be no taking that back once it was out there, and I was in no way ready to deal with them grilling me about this.
I was revealing enough already just by asking this question. I hadn’t needed to bring up a girl to either of them since Renata and I escaped from our failed attempt at a relationship.
“Because I want to leave them in good hands,” was what I said instead.
Mom flashed a brief, bright grin before grabbing a sticky note and a pen. She jotted down an address before passing it to me.
“This is a women’s shelter,” she said. “When you get there, ask for Mary. She’ll take care of the rest.”
“Oh.” Standing, I grabbed the note and stuffed it in my wallet. When they didn’t say anything else, I glanced at the door. “Umm...thanks.”
This is easy.
I shouldn’t have even thought about it. My hand was on the door when a muffled snicker brought my head around. They both wore easy expressions, no cheesy smiles to go along with the laugh I’d clearly heard.
Waiting for the other shoe to drop, I slowly opened the door.
“Oh, and son?”
I sighed and glanced over my shoulder. Mom stood behind her desk, twirling a pen between black-tipped nails. Her eyes smiled, but her expression was serious enough to warn me of what was coming.
“Be sure to bring her to dinner at some point next week.”
“I don’t think—”
Then, she smiled. “That wasn’t a request.” Mom sat down, opening her laptop while Dad quietly slapped at his knee. “I’ll let you know what day works best soon. And for the record, don’t even think about trying to leave early. Is that clear?”
“Yes ma’am,” I said. Not like I had another choice.
I’d said it before, and I’d say it again.
Son or not, Madeline LaCroix was not a woman you said no to.
“You have everything you need?” I asked Mary, shutting the trunk of the Escalade.
She was a little older than Mom, and I hadn’t known what to expect when she met me at the front of the shelter wearing a nun’s habit. But for a woman who no doubt heard about some fucked up things and saw the results of others, her attitude was so damn sunny I was going to tan if I didn’t get away soon.
“More than enough,” she said, giving me the same beaming smile that had split her lips when I started carrying in tray after tray of cupcakes. “This couldn’t be more perfect actually. One of my girls’ birthday is today, and if the one I tasted was any indication, I’m sure she’ll appreciate this much more than she would my messy attempt at a cardboard pie.”
“Cardboard...pie?”
She laughed. “Don’t take me so literally. I mean that’s how it’ll taste when I leave the kitchen. The Lord blessed me with more than my fair share of gifts, but culinary skills were not among them.”
“Hey, I’m not one to talk,” I said, checking my phone.
I’d made good time so far, although these detours had taken a bit longer than I would’ve liked. They were worth it, of course. The corner of my lip twitched as I fired off a quick text to Emily.
Me: You’ll be happy to know I found a good home for your cupcakes.
Her reply came almost instantly.
Emily: You better be telling the truth. If those ended up in a dumpster somewhere, I’m going to go medieval on your ass. I’m talking tar and feathers, Ro. Don’t play with me.
I clicked my tongue, feeling a smile pull at my face. I didn’t blame Emily for her suspicion. We both knew I had a lot to make up for, but proving this had gone down the way she wanted would be a step in the right direction. Glancing up, I found Mary watching me expectantly.
“This is going to sound a bit strange, but would you mind taking a quick picture with me? My...cupcake making friend wants proof.”
“Of course.”
I snapped a quick picture of the two of us and sent it off, tapping my foot impatiently. When my phone buzzed again, my heart beat louder to go along with it.
Emily: I can’t believe it, but I don’t think nuns take to bribery that well so you must be telling the truth.
Me: I am. I should be hurt that you doubted me.
Emily: Don’t push your luck, Death. When are you coming back? Renata said she was going somewhere so I’ve got the place all to my lonesome...
A picture came through a second later—one I had no business looking at with a nun standing right in front of me. This had to be a sin, but for several seconds I remained a prisoner to the sight of pale breasts nearly spilling from the front of a red, silk robe. Only an inquisitive voice managed to free me from the hypnosis before I started drooling.
“Do you believe in fate, Mr. LaCroix?”
My whole body reacted, a shudder sweeping through me. “Ambrose is fine, ma’am. My dad is Mr. LaCroix, and with some luck that won’t change for a long time still.”
“Of course.” She smiled. “But I would like an answer.”
Something about her tone had me re-examining the older woman, but nothing had changed. Still, I had to ask, “Why do you want to know?”
Mary reached up, grasping the silver cross dangling around her neck. “Because I do believe in fate. I believe in destiny. I believe that—no matter how the situation looks at its onset—people are brought into each of our lives for a reason. Same way you came into my life today.”
Wasn’t she taking this too seriously? “All due respect, ma’am, it was just cupcakes.”
She shook her head, but her smile didn’t waver. “Nothing is ever just anything. To you, this is a favor for someone you care about. To some of them”—she nodded to the building—”this is a greater act of kindness than they’ve known in months, if not years. And everything you’ve experienced before this brought you to this moment in time where you could make that happen.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, considering her words.
It wasn’t that I disagreed. The very foundation of the Tarots was built around fate and destiny. Sometimes we helped it along. Sometimes we delayed it. But there was never any doubt that it would have its d
ay. It was an inexorable force, always marching forward. I was another cog in the grand wheel. Nothing more.
Shifting on my feet, I said, “This is going somewhere, right?”
Shit. And I’d been on such a roll not being an ass today.
Thankfully, Mary remained undeterred. Either she had the patience of a saint or she was immune to me. I’d be willing to bet on the former seeing as I’d never met someone I couldn’t break.
Not that I was going to try, obviously.
She was a nun for fuck’s sake.
I had some boundaries.
“Trying to resist fate is like swimming against the ocean’s currents,” she said softly. “You might make some progress, but for what? You’ll wear yourself down, and in the end, it’ll pull you back one way or another. Instead of fighting against the current, go along with it. See where it takes you, no matter how turbulent the journey. And when it lets go, look around. You’ll have found where you’re supposed to be.”
A slew of responses sat on the tip of my tongue. Many of them were rude or dismissive. Instead of bringing them to life, I settled for, “Do you treat everyone you meet to one of these pep talks?”
“Only those who need it.” With another quick smile, she bowed her head. “Safe travels, Ambrose LaCroix. If you ever find yourself saddled down with more cupcakes, you know where to find me.”
Sensing the dismissal, I nodded my head and hopped into the driver’s seat before grabbing my phone again. I checked the time once more, and yes, I did briefly get distracted by the picture on my screen before I could type out a response.
Me: Is this your idea of a booty call? What about my wholesome image makes you think I’d go for such a thing?
Emily: Was that code for, “I’m on the way?” Because that’s really the only thing I want to hear from you right now.
Another picture came through. My entire screen was filled up by her glossy, parted lips. My dick twitched, sending my brain all kinds of signals and coordinates.
Defiant Prince: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Black Rose University Book 1) Page 26
