Shameless Kiss: A Billionaire Possession Novel

by Amelia Wilde

  He’s gone.

  I turn back to my father and bite back the urge to ask him if he’s happy. He’s clearly pleased with himself. I’m going to end that.

  “It’s not a good idea for you to transfer to Havenshill.” I keep my tone even, with an edge of ice. “You’ve been acting strangely since the last time I saw you, and I don’t think you’re in a decent frame of mind to make that decision.”

  My father scowls at me. “Who are you to—”

  “You were a great father to me growing up,” I cut him off, raising my voice. “You gave me everything I ever wanted, and I know it wasn’t always easy. So there was no question in my mind that I would pay for you to be here.”

  “I never took—”

  “I get it, Dad. I don’t know all the details, but I know Martin Keller took you for a ride. I know that things went downhill once Mom died.” Tears spring to my eyes thinking of her. She would have made just the right joke, said just the perfect thing, to calm Dad down. His lip trembles.

  “I’ve been thinking of her.”

  “I have, too.”

  His hand balls into a fist on the arm of the chair, and when he speaks again it’s through gritted teeth. “We were supposed to enjoy retirement together. I wouldn’t have minded losing—losing all that money to Martin Keller—I would have kept working until the day I died if I could have had more time with her.”

  “I know, Dad. I know.”

  “But that’s never going to happen now.”

  My throat is tight with the tears I’m refusing to shed. “No, it’s not, but we can—”

  “And you.”

  The corners of his mouth are turned down in another smile. “Dad—”

  “You stuck me in this place. You made sure to get a man’s money to hire that aide so she can follow me around all day, harassing me, never giving me a moment of peace. That bitch in the office downstairs thinks it’s so good, and so necessary, because I’ve been having such a hard time, but I’m only having a hard time because of that awful woman who’s here every damn day of my life, never giving me a single day—”

  “Take a breath. We can still talk about—”

  “I don’t want to talk to you about anything!” His voice booms out into the hallway. Then he raises both hands, waving me off with a cold dismissal. “Go chase after that man. Get more money out of his pocket. But do me a favor. At least get him to marry you. I don’t want the entire state knowing I’ve got some slut for a daughter.” He shakes his head. “After all we did for you, Juliet. After all we did.”

  “Is everything alright?” Carla’s voice rings out, bright and cheery from the doorway, and when I turn, she’s standing in the threshold next to a male nurse.

  “Just get her out of here.”

  For a second I think my father is talking about Carla, but then I see he’s looking past me. It’s me he wants out.

  This isn’t over. Not yet. Not by a long shot. But my nerves are crumbling, and I have to get out of here before I lose all control and start sobbing in front of what’s quickly becoming a crowd. “You’re not going to Havenshill.” He opens his mouth to argue, but I turn back toward Carla. “This isn’t right, and we need to have a discussion right now about what’s happening with his care.”

  I wait until Carla has moved into the hallway and the male nurse has stepped into my father’s room to look her in the eye. “What the hell was that?”

  Carla blanches. “I don’t—he seemed perfectly reasonable all the time we were discussing this.”

  “He’s been out of his mind for weeks. You yourself said it was a good idea to hire a one-on-one aide.”

  “Juliet—”

  “He’s not going to Havenshill, but he’s not staying here, either.” I take a deep breath. “I have power of attorney, Carla, and I think you knew that when you called me. None of it was out of your hands.” I pull my phone from my bag. “I’m going to need some time to make alternate arrangements, but he is not to be transferred anywhere until I do. Is that clear?”

  Carla is fidgeting now, biting her lip. “Juliet, this is just a misunderstanding. I’m sure the doctor—”

  “You may call me Ms. James.” I look up from the screen of my phone and give her a glare that makes the color drain from her cheeks. “But you don’t have to worry. I’ll be in touch.”

  My mind is reeling as I move toward the elevator, leaving Carla standing in the hallway by herself. Damn it, this was supposed to be the best place money could buy.

  No—not the best place money could buy. The best place I could afford.

  As soon as the elevator doors slide shut, I cover my eyes with my hands and press hard, willing the tears to stay in place.

  I only have the smallest shred of hope left, and when I step off the elevator I’m clutching it in both hands.

  Be waiting for me. Please don’t have taken me for my word in there...

  But there’s no town car at the curb, no Weston leaning against it.

  He’s gone, and I’m back to square one.

  Chapter 42

  Weston

  “I’ve never tasted a better drink.” The words come out of my mouth half-slurred, but they still sound fine to me. Totally fine. Absolutely fine. I’m at the top of my game. I’ve never been so happy in my fucking life.

  “What are you muttering about now, Wes?” Gideon cocks his head and narrows his eyes at me. “The first three weren’t enough to convince you?”

  I give him what I’m certain is a rakish grin and he bursts out laughing. “No. They were not.”

  “You’re in bad shape, man.”

  The music in the club is blaring, the vibrations thrumming through my entire body in a way that makes me feel decidedly ill.

  “I’m in great shape.”

  “You never drink this much.”

  “How would you know? You’re always in the Virgin Islands or some other shit tropical destination.”

  He reaches over and claps me on the shoulder. “I’m here now, buddy.”

  “Why are you here?” The reason seems hazy.

  Gideon raises his eyebrows. “You wanted to go out. You called me, remember?”

  “Yes. Absolutely I do.” The lights from the DJ station pierce my eyes. I cannot possibly be the one who decided to come to this hellhole. That must have been all Gideon. “But we should pick a different club. Or a bar. A quiet bar. A bar where I can get some peace and quiet.”

  Now Gideon looks at me like I’ve landed from another planet. “I knew something was up with you when you suggested this place.”

  “No.” I point at him with one finger, some of the drink—I don’t know what the fuck it is, some kind of cocktail that tastes like pure sugar, lousy with alcohol—sloshing out onto the table. “This was you. This was all your fault.”

  “I plead not guilty.”

  “You can’t.”

  Gideon gets up from his chair and hoists me to my feet, his hand firm on my arm. “I think it’s time for you to go home.”

  “To my empty fucking penthouse apartment? Not a chance.” Gideon is steering me through the crowd. Everyone in it divides into mirror images of themselves, slamming back together in a multicolored haze. “I want to go where there are women.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I do.”

  We’re moving past coat check, and I know there aren’t going to be any women outside. Not that I want to take home with me. None that I’ll even settle for taking home with me. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. But there’s some reflex that has me staring at everything that moves.

  Stop looking for her everywhere you go.

  “I’m not,” I say.

  “You’re not what?” Gideon pushes open the door in front of me and ushers me into the waiting town car with Dave in the front seat. I tip over onto my side while I’m getting in and am overtaken by a fit of laughter. Gideon has to lift me upright to get in behind me and shut the door.

  “His place, Dave.”

  �
��Not a chance.” I slump back against the seat. “That was by far the worst club I’ve ever been to. Let’s go to that shithole you took us to before the bachelor party.”

  “She put you through the ringer, didn’t she?” Gideon says.

  “Who are you talking about? The waitress?”

  “Your girl. The one you whisked off to Maui.”

  “Oh. Her? She’s nothing.” The words fly out into the air on the wings of the alcohol, but the lie sends a stab of pain through my heart. It doesn’t matter. I’m better off without her. I could have chased her. I could have stayed in that room in that fucking nursing home and insisted on having it out. But I didn’t. I left, and she doesn’t give a shit. Which is best for both of us.

  “I want to know what happened, but I don’t think I could get a straight answer out of you.”

  “I left, is what happened. She didn’t want to leave with me, and I left, and ever since then she’s disappeared.”

  Gideon’s face is a swirling mass of features, swimming before me, but I can see that his forehead is wrinkled. “Disappeared, like—is she okay?”

  I wave my hands in the air. “She’s fine. She just won’t return my calls.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Yesterday,” I slur.

  “Jesus.” Gideon shakes his head. “The penthouse, Dave. Let’s go.”

  “Do not take me to my penthouse, Dave.” I’m shouting, my voice way too loud for the interior of the car, but I don’t care. I take Gideon by the front of his jacket. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to go to the club of your choice—see how generous I’m being?—and we’re going to find a woman there. I want a woman who’s a million times better than Juliet. No. I don’t care about that.” I shake my head, willing him to get the point. “Here’s the thing, Gideon. I’m free. I should never have gotten so damn involved with any woman. I want a one-night stand. I want something hot.”

  The words are poison, and even in this state I can tell that Gideon’s not buying a single bit of it. I’m not, either, and it’s coming out of my own mouth.

  “Let’s go inside, buddy.”

  “What the fuck?” I whip my head around. We’re parked in front of my building, but I don’t remember the drive. I don’t even remember Dave pulling away from the curb at the club.

  “I haven’t seen you like this since that Melody girl in college. You are in no state to go out looking for a piece of ass.” Gideon’s tone is no-nonsense, and I scowl at him as he pulls me out of the car and toward the building.

  “I did the right thing,” I protest, resisting him.

  “I don’t think so, man.”

  “I did. It’s better this way. If I’m never with a woman like that she can’t fuck me over and smash my heart into a thousand tiny pieces. Why would I do that? Why would I ever do that again?”

  Gideon shares a look with the doorman and hustles me to the private elevator, pulling my phone out of my pocket for me.

  “I feel like shit.”

  The doors slide shut in front of us, and I slump against the wall of the elevator. Gideon pats my arm. “I’m sure you do, Wes. I’m sure you do.”

  Chapter 43

  Juliet

  “I want the transfer to go as smoothly as possible.” I look at the representative from Belle Park, a facility less than two miles from here—two more miles of traffic, but at this point I have to prioritize. “He’s likely to be very resistant to the move, but I need to get him into a place that can provide the best level of care. Without interruption.”

  Cole nods solemnly. I’m sure he hears this kind of thing a hundred times a day. “Ms. James, I will personally oversee your father’s transfer.” He glances down at the paperwork in front of him. “It looks like there’s a match between the services being provided at Overbrook, including the one-on-one aide, and what we can offer here, so there should be no delay on that front.” He looks me in the eye. “Based on your descriptions, I’m confident we’ll be able to manage any issues he has.”

  I swallow hard. I’ve been brutally honest about my father’s recent behavior. I haven’t been brutally honest about something else, though.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” I lift my chin. “There’s something else I should—” I clear my throat. “As you can probably see, my father won’t qualify for Medicare for another several months, so I’ll be handling the payments for him. I wanted to know if—” I am not going to cry in front of Cole. Cole, who looks like he’s barely old enough to be one of my law school classmates. “I wanted to discuss payment options with you.”

  My palms start to sweat, and I press them nervously against my skirt. Cole folds his hands on top of the desk. “We’ve got flexible options here.” His voice is even, and I have to give him credit for not sounding condescending, even though I’m in here practically begging to cut a deal. “If you’d like, we can look into spreading out the amount over the next year. Or even the next couple of years.” My chin starts to tremble, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him pity me. “I just want to reassure you, Ms. James, that we will absolutely work with you on this. It’s only a matter of months until we’ll be able to completely reevaluate the costs.”

  I grit my teeth, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I’m glad to hear it.” I reach across the table and Cole extends his hand for me to shake it. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment back in the city.”

  “I’ll be in touch with the transfer details. If there’s anything you don’t like, please don’t hesitate to let me know, and we’ll reconsider.”

  I feel his eyes on my back as I leave his office, moving for the front entrance as quickly as I can.

  It’s raining out—a heavy September rain that falls violently against the sidewalk—and I fumble for my umbrella, anxious to get somewhere private.

  I was lying about the appointment.

  Well, half-lying. I do have a study group that I’m supposed to attend, and skipping it would be a mistake.

  But the weight of everything that’s happened—my father’s wild shift in personality, the fact that I drove Weston right out of my life, all of it—is too much to bear.

  Two days without him, and it’s too much to bear.

  I force my expression into some semblance of calm for the train ride back to Midtown, then climb the stairs to my apartment with legs so heavy it’s like I’ve been tranquilized.

  My books for law school are piled on my desk. I walk straight past them, kick off my shoes, and let myself fall into bed.

  The tears are still hot on my cheeks when I fall asleep.

  It’s dark out when I wake up, pushing my hair away from my face to squint at my phone. Nine o’clock? Jesus.

  I reach for the lamp on my bedside table and flip it on, illuminating the apartment in its glow. Then I lean back against the pillows.

  Not a single missed call. Not a single missed text.

  He called yesterday—once, twice, and then three times in a row. But I couldn’t bear to hear his voice. Not then. Not after that ugly tension had risen between us. Not after I’d finally seen him crack under frustration—and the result hadn’t been pretty.

  Then again, I hadn’t been at my best either.

  “This is for the best.” My voice sounds small and unconvincing echoing off the walls of my tiny studio apartment. There’s nothing of paradise here. I didn’t bring a single thing back from Maui except the memory of being there with Weston, curled around each other at every opportunity.

  I press my face into the pillow. This is ridiculous. I did the right thing, telling him to leave. It would have ended like that eventually—Weston pushing too far, and me letting him have it.

  It was only ever supposed to be a game—a sexy, thrilling game that would be even more tantalizing in retrospect.

  But if it was a game, then why do I feel like my heart has been crumpled up like an old newspaper and left to rot in the garbage?

  My phone buzzes with an incoming text, and
I snatch it up from the comforter, my heart pounding.

  You coming in?

  Coming in…where?

  The name on the screen finally connects with the message, and I let out a groan.

  I had a shift at the Rose tonight. It started two hours ago.

  I send back a single word:

  No.

  Peter is going to lose his mind. I’ve had to leave for emergencies, but this? This is a different story entirely. His answer comes in almost immediately.

  You’re skipping your shift?!?? Did you tell Greg?

  I frown at the phone before typing my reply. If he’s pissed, he can fire me.

  I curl my fist around my phone and tumble out of the bed, heading straight for the closet. I strip off the business causal outfit I wore to meet with Cole and leave it in a pile on the floor, then dig out a pair of ratty pajama pants and a tank top. That’s as dressed up as I’m getting tonight.

  Every muscle in my body aches—a deep ache, the kind of ache that lingers, that settles into your bones. It’s all I can do to get back to the couch.

  I ignore the stream of texts coming in from Peter, open a food delivery app, and choose the nearest Chinese restaurant. The order is outrageous. I don’t care.

  I eat it all and follow it up with ice cream.

  “I did the right thing,” I tell myself, my gut churning with the food. “I did the right thing.”

  Chapter 44

  Weston

  “Who brought these in?” My voice is sharper than I wanted it to be, but it’s too late—there’s no taking the words back now. There’s a rustle as Sarah pushes herself back from her desk, and then her footsteps are soft on the thick carpeting of my office.

  “Mr. Grant?

  “Who brought these in?” I try to temper my tone, but the white roses on the side table in the sitting area of my office are a taunt I can’t bear.

  Sarah’s eyes flick from me to the rest of the office. “The flowers?”