My heart practically stopped beating.
“No, but —”
“Do you have a warrant to search this premises?” Gabe followed up, stepping closer to Carlson. Menacing. A rigid, wall of masculine implied threat.
“I don’t think threatening an officer is a good fucking idea, Gabe,” I interjected. Tess grunted her agreement from beside the oven.
“Shut up,” he shot back at me. “Let me handle something for once.”
My eyes widened and I stepped away from him and towards Carlson. “Officer, I’ll be happy to cooperate with your investigation in any way you require. Would you like to take a seat inside, so we can discuss this?” I gestured toward a table near the door, pulse racing, beating a tattoo against the inside of my throat.
Carlson studied my hand, then my face. His gaze darted to Gabe, then back to me. “No, I think I have all the information I require for now.” He spun on the heel of his boot and tracked back to the swinging doors of the kitchen. “We’ll be in touch.”
Then he swept out of the room. The bell tinkled in the front a few minutes later.
I turned on Gabe. “What the fuck were you thinking? Confronting him like that.”
“I know those guys; they’re pricks.” He grunted it, and looked at Tess.
She glared right back at him, arms folded across her ample breasts, grasping a mixing spoon in her fist.
“This isn’t about your personal vendetta. This is about my business! I refuse to lose it because you’ve got problems with authority.”
“I don’t have problems with authority,” he scoffed, then thumbed towards the exit. “Just those assholes.”
I gripped my head in both hands and stared at him through the net of my fingers. “Leave. Get out of here. I have to sort this mess out.”
“Allegra —”
“Go!” I shouted and Tess brandished the wooden spoon in solidarity.
“I’ll call you,” he said, his jaw set in defiance. He clomped out of the kitchen, leaving the scent of his cologne in the air. I scoffed. Gucci Black minus the smoke. He always seemed to have the last word and chased away every last shred of my tenuous control.
Chapter 16
There was only one person I could turn to about this and it wasn’t Kelly. It certainly wasn’t Gabe. He’d messed this up worse than I had when Brown had come to inspect. If only I’d kept my cool with him. Hell, I should’ve baked him a personalized cupcake. Maybe I should have wrapped my lips around his shriveled member. Even that disgusting thought seemed more palatable than an iron cage with my junkie mother.
It was all too late now.
I stood in front of the door to my old apartment and stared at the bronze numbering on the wood. Had it really come to this?
I never thought I’d have to see him again, let alone ask him for a favor. Not that I wanted to go around the law, but I was innocent of this. No chance in hell would I jeopardize my own business. The cops had to see that. So did the insurance company.
The bakery struggled without the extra oven; I couldn’t keep up with demand. And less supply meant less money.
My phone buzzed in my handbag and I brought it out, squeezing the plastic a little too hard. Gabe’s name flashed on the screen. I silenced the call and put the phone back in my handbag.
I pressed the white knob — my old doorbell.
Matthew had decided to stay on in the apartment. He didn’t have a sense of sentimentality, at least not when it came to us. Sure, he’d keep the entire collection of Californication and groan at me if I didn’t dust it, but pictures and photo albums?
Anniversaries? They were for dumbasses.
Footsteps rang on the other side of the door and I held my breath. The latch scraped and the doorknob turned. I could mimic the movements in the back of my mind. I’d opened the front door from the inside so many times.
Including the night when the results had come in and we’d discovered the truth. The night he’d broken up with me, taken the ring back, shattered my heart. Although now, it turned out it had all been one of those blessings. In disguise.
“Ally, what a nice surprise.” The half-smile said he wasn’t surprised to see me at all. “What brings you to my part of town?”
“We need to talk.”
“Do we?” Matthew asked, tapping his chin with his forefinger. “I don’t think we do.”
“Come on, Matt,” I pleaded. “Just let me in.”
He looked me up and down, from my heeled pumps, to the faded skinny jeans and my silk blouse. The fuck me shoes were all part of my master plan. The one I hoped didn’t blow up in my face.
“All right, I guess you can come in.” He creaked the door open and stepped back so I could enter.
I shuffled past him into the hall, and frowned. He’d changed things. Almost like I’d been eradicated from the space like I’d been eradicated from his life. He’d taken down the wallpaper I’d chosen, repainted the kitchen and black-out shades had replaced the chiffon drapes.
And butt ugly. An aging tribute to the seventies, but without the retro feel. It looked faded and out of date. Like a picture from an old magazine, where everyone’s smiling, but they’re dying on the inside.
“Right through here,” he said as he guided me to the living room, which I’d furnished myself.
At least he hadn’t changed the leather sofa. We’d found it — and by we, I meant me — in a second-hand furniture store next to a bank. Bought it for a steal at the time. I still coveted it, even though I’d left everything behind the night he’d dropped me. I’d wanted to take it with me as if the feel of the butter soft burgundy leather could sooth my mind as easily as it did my fingertips.
Better to cut all ties.
I sank down on the edge of the sofa and Matthew stood in front of the window, silhouetted by the afternoon light streaming through the unwashed windows. Tiny specks of dust danced in the space beside his hair.
“What’s this about?” he asked, flashing that dickhead cop grin. The one that said I have you right where I want you. I own you, bitch.
“I think you know, Matthew.” I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms, then looked up at him. “I’m being investigated for arson. They think I set fire to my own bakery.”
“And that’s my problem because…?”
“It’s not, but —”
“Glad we’re on the same page,” he interjected, pointing back to the doorway. “Don’t let the front door hit your lard ass on the way out.”
I held my ground. “Matthew, you know I didn’t do it.”
“Then let them investigate you. What’s the harm in it?” He walked to the coffee table and picked up a Playboy magazine. He rifled through it in front of me. “I love these photos. Of girls who care about themselves. Take care of themselves. Not gorge all day on refined sugar and white flour.”
I ignored the disrespect. I was past caring about his gross obsessions and habits. And I was numb to his cruelty. “The harm in it? Come on, this will set me back years. I’ll lose profit. I’ll probably lose the bakery if they close it down to investigate.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” he replied, then fanned himself with the magazine. “Poor girl, what will you do about it? Maybe you should ask your firefighter lover to save you again. The one with the huge cock and equally huge bank account.”
“What the hell is your problem? What did I do to deserve your fucking disdain?” I snapped, then slapped my thighs. I was tired of being pushed around, specifically by him.
“My problem is you can’t keep your skirt down and your legs closed,” Matthew retorted.
“Right, I don’t need this. I’m leaving. I don’t know what I was thinking, coming to you for help.” I stood and marched towards the exit, my skin prickling with utter rage. How dare he talk to me like that!
I’d never done anything to deserve this kind of treatment. I wasn’t a bad person. I was a human being. He’d dumped me. He’d let me go because —
“I can help you
,” he called out. “I can squash the case. Hurry through the investigation. Or … I can sit on it for so long that the banks will call in your loan and you’ll be fucked.”
I turned on my heel and glared at him. “What do you want?”
“Stop seeing the fireman. Don’t speak to Gabe again.”
I glared at him.
“Take your time to formulate an answer. Hell, the longer you wait, the closer you move to bankruptcy.” Matthew bore his teeth, chucked the Playboy back onto the coffee table. “Let me know what you decide.”
I turned away from him to hide my tears. I ran for the door.
“See you soon, Ally,” he shouted after me.
Chapter 17
The cops had already closed the bakery down so they could proceed with their investigation, but even they didn’t work on a Friday night. At least, not investigative work. They were probably prowling the streets.
Matthew had often worked the late shift on Fridays. I’d always worried myself sick about him. A sick feeling of dread every time there was a knock at the door or a ring of my phone. Not so much anymore.
Now, I kinda wanted him to get punched in the face, hit by a drunk driver or shot in the gut without his vest on.
I sat in my living room, sipping a tequila on the rocks. Tequila was low calorie. I paired the drink with a bowl of frosting topped with cherries. If now wasn’t the time to comfort eat, then I didn’t know what was. In spite of Matthew and his vulgar jibes about my weight.
My phone rang and I answered it. “Do you need our help?” Kelly didn’t bother saying hello first. She was pragmatic. I loved that about her. “Pat’s got a pretty good lawyer.”
“Thanks, Kels, but by the time I need a lawyer, it will already be too late. I’m losing money by the day.” I gulped down a spoonful of frosting.
Ah, bliss.
“I’m coming over, we can braid our hair, roast marshmallows, do girly stuff.”
I took another bite. “That’s real sweet, but I’d rather be alone right now.” I couldn’t think of anything less appetizing than having to put on a ‘strong face’ while Kelly supported me with words and gooey, molten marshmallows.
“Ally,” she said.
“No, Kelly, I really need this time alone. Thanks anyway.” I hardened my tone, to cut her off before she got into convincing mode.
“If you’re sure,” she said, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
“I’m sure. Chat later,” I replied, then pressed the red button before she could guilt me into girls’ night. I couldn’t handle that right now.
I needed space, time to think about Matthew’s crazy ultimatum. Gabe had pissed me off like crazy, but that didn’t mean I wanted to lose whatever the hell it was we had. If we had anything.
Damn. I was so confused.
He’d called himself my boyfriend, arrogant jack off. It’d infuriated me at the time, but now, it made my stomach writhe with hopeful butterflies. Like everything would be alright. I reveled in the feeling for a moment more until Matthew flittered into my consciousness. He’d ruin this. Like he’d ruined everything.
Gabe said he wanted more than just a fling. He wanted me for me.
I frowned and slurped my tequila, then chased it with a cherry. “Matthew wanted you too, and look how that turned out,” I said out loud.
Codsworth meowed at my ankles, and turned his knowing kitty eyes on me.
“You can’t have any,” I scolded. “Sugar isn’t good for your constitution. Neither is tequila. Although, I’d love to see your antics if you took a few licks.”
It wasn’t good for mine either, but I was about to lose my lifelong dream, so what the hell. I spooned more into my mouth and let it melt over my tongue.
Chocolate frosting. Please, sir, may I have some more. I ate another spoonful.
My phone buzzed to life again. Probably Kelly, calling back to force me into a onesie. The screen read ‘private caller’ so I pressed the green icon on the screen.
“Stupid bitch,” a woman said into the phone. She slurred it actually. “You’re gonna fucking die for touching him.” Then she hung up.
I stared at the screen, my mouth slightly open. “What the fu —?”
The phone buzzed again. I probably shouldn’t have answered, but there was sick fascination twisting in my gut. I pressed the green icon again.
“Whore!” she screamed this time. She hung up before I could ask who the hell it was.
Some drunk woman on a Friday night who didn’t want me to touch a guy. A guy?
Gabe. Damn it. It was probably him.
Matthew had said that he got around. He used women and then dumped them when he was finished. This chick was probably one of his ex-flings, furious that I’d gotten in the way of whatever had happened between them. If she’d slept with him, she’d want more. His mad bedroom skills weren’t in question.
I squished the plastic of my phone until it squeaked. The phone buzzed again, but I didn’t bother answering it this time. Expletives could go to voice mail. I waited until she’d stopped calling, then dialed Gabe’s number.
“I’m glad you called,” he said. “I wanted to apologize for what happened the other day.”
“How about you apologize for what happened a few seconds ago,” I replied, then inhaled some tequila, choked and crunched on an ice cube.
“What do you mean?”
“I just got a call from some woman who swore at me and told me I’m going to die for touching you.”
“Holy shit,” he exclaimed.
“My sentiments exactly. Care to explain?” I was little tipsy. I licked frosting off the spoon and accidentally dabbed some on the tip of my nose. Make that a little drunk. On tequila.
And sugar.
And lust.
“I have no idea, Allegra.” He clipped the words out as I chewed my bottom lip.
“Are you lying to me again? Is this some woman you’re screwing on the side?”
“No! Allegra —”
“Because if it is, I get it. Look, we’re not dating, not exclusive. Not anything. It’s natural for you to play the field, I guess. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”
“From who? Who told you that?” Gabe growled the questions.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said around a mouthful of frosting. “Just don’t give out my number to your harem. Okay?”
“Allegra, it’s not like that. Will you just listen for a second?” Gabe shuffled the phone and scratching filled my ear for a second.
“No, I’m done listening. Goodbye, Gabe.”
“Don’t do this,” he pleaded.
“It’s over. Goodbye. Have a good life. Don’t come near my place again.” I hung up and tossed my phone on the chair opposite me. I didn’t own a TV, but I preferred it that way. Jane Austen, sugar straight to the vein and my best friends Kelly and Codsworth. No penises need apply.
I kicked off my slippers, folded my legs beneath me, and finished the tumbler of tequila in one go.
I didn’t let myself cry for another half hour, not until the bowl of frosting was as empty as my heart.
Chapter 18
The living room was full of junk, even messier than the last time I’d visited. The Playboy magazine still had a prominent position on the coffee table open to the plastic, bleach-blonde, size zero, fake boobed centerfold. I looked away. Not only because the stick figures made me feel bad about my curves, but they reminded me of my mom. In prison.
Mom was to blame for that one.
On the rare occasion I’d gone to visit her, she’d been pretty explicit about conditions in the prison. Apparently, she had a girlfriend now. I would’ve been happy she’d found love, but I was too busy living my life and trying to make something of it to think about her self-induced lifestyle.
But success wouldn’t happen if my bakery went under because of the constant interference of officers tramping all over my kitchen.
“I’m glad you came back,” Matthew said, strolling into the lounge car
rying two beers. At this hour?
I’d asked for a lemonade, but of course he’d ignored me. That was his style. Matthew did as Matthew pleased and fuck all the rest.
“Yeah, I can’t say the same.” I put on a tight smile and stared at him.
“So, have you thought about what I said last time?” Matthew popped the lids on the beers with a lighter and handed me one.
I held it, but didn’t take a drink. I had a hangover brewing, and the smell of the hops made my stomach turn.
“Yes, I’ve thought about it.”
“And?”
“And yes, I won’t see Gabe again.” It actually hurt a little to say it. Why was that? No, it had to be the hangover making my senses dull. I didn’t care for Gabe that much, we’d hardly spent any time together.
I was so full of complete bullshit.
We’d shared so much. And one unforgettable night. The best of my life.
And now this. Blackmail a la my ex-fiancé and an investigation in my bakery. Fun times.
“That’s splendid,” Matthew said, putting on his fake British accent. I hated when he did that. “I’m proud of you, Ally. You’ve made the right choice. The guy was a total scumbag.”
I glanced at the Playboy pointedly and the beer in his hand. It was fucking eight in the morning. What a complete tool.
He didn’t catch my hint, merely slurped back some beer and smiled at me. “Now that he’s out of the way, we can negotiate.”
“Negotiate?” I asked, raising both eyebrows. I frowned. “You said you’d help me if I stopped seeing him.”
“No, no, you’re mistaken. I said I would sit on the case if you didn’t stop seeing him. There’s a difference. You should listen more carefully, sweetie.”
“Don’t call me that,” I barked, then took a sip of the beer. I instantly regretted it. I set it down on top of the magazine. On top of the naked woman’s clit.
“Are you ready to negotiate or not,” he said, leaning back in the chair and gesturing with his bottle. “Because I sure am.”
“Yes, I’m ready,” I replied. What did I have to lose? I needed to get the cops out of my kitchen and back to work before the bank called in the loans. Gabe was out of the picture because of the crazy lady who’d called me. Hot sex notwithstanding, I hadn’t signed up for that kind of drama.
Line: Alpha Billionaire Romance Page 29
