by Nikki Sloane
She made a face. “Since always.”
“I’m going to be sending over a revised figure,” Kyle said to Henry. “It’s reasonable.” There was a threat laced in his words. Don’t push back, or I’ll hit you hard. I knew Kyle well enough to believe he’d do it. Should I warn my colleague not to challenge him? I hadn’t worked much with Henry, but I was fairly certain he’d be decimated if he went head-to-head with my ex-boyfriend.
When the meeting was over, I packed up my things as quickly as possible. It’d be poor professionalism to flip Kyle the bird, so I’d need to make a run for the elevator bank before that happened. The risk grew greater every second I remained in his presence.
“Ruby.” The irritatingly sexy voice caused me to hesitate. “Do you have a minute?”
I shook my head and jammed my tablet into my bag. No, I didn’t have a minute. He’d had five long years to talk to me; my phone number hadn’t changed. I was done giving him my time. I slung my briefcase strap over my shoulder as I stood. C’mon, Henry. Move your ass! My middle finger itched to raise up and announce how I thought Kyle was number one—a number one asshole.
His voice was surprisingly forceful. “Ruby, a word.”
“Yeah? How about fuck you.” It burst out from me and detonated in the room, blanketing us in horrifying silence right after the Crawfords joint gasp.
“Well,” Kyle said, grimacing, “that was actually two words.”
I expected him to volley a barb at me or turn to Henry and demand I apologize, but he said nothing. As I hurried toward the door, I had the fleeting thought Kyle might chase after me, but I cursed myself for being stupid. He wasn’t any good at goodbyes. He’d made it oh-so-clear how silence was his favorite way to go.
“Jesus Christ, Ruby,” Henry groaned as soon as the elevator doors shut, sealing me in with him and Tariq. I sank down into my shame faster than the elevator car could carry us to the ground level. “What the hell?”
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t prepared to see him. My temper got the better of me, and I promise it won’t happen again.”
It was quiet for a moment, and I watched the numbers change as we descended. The elevator car was stifling.
“What’d he do to you?” Tariq asked quietly.
Was he being polite, or genuinely curious? I was so scattered, I felt compelled to answer, only . . . How did I do that?
“We were together for almost a year, and then he . . . vanished.” It was a massive oversimplification, but it would do. I’d been in love with Kyle, and although he was never able to say the words back to me, I’d believed he loved me, too. Boy, was I naïve.
He was a year older than I was and about to start his final year of law school when I’d bumped into him at Randhurst University’s bookstore. We’d both reached for the same textbook, and the moment was still so vivid. I still remembered how excited I’d been when he struck up a conversation. How thrilled I’d been when he asked for my phone number. Well, he’d more or less demanded it, but I didn’t need much persuasion. He was smart, and funny, and holy fuck, gorgeous.
Our relationship had been wild and amazing. We clicked on every level, or so I thought. Conversation, politics, and the two of us in the bedroom? Oh yes, we definitely were in sync there.
When his job offer from the firm in New York came in, it thrust us into a strange territory. I couldn’t leave law school with only one year left and follow him, and more importantly, he hadn’t asked me to. We danced around talking about it for a month as his graduation loomed.
Neither of us were interested in doing the long distance thing. I firmly believed long distance relationships only worked out if they started off with distance from the get-go. There was no way we’d survive an eight-hundred-mile wedge being driven between us. I loved Chicago, and Kyle had made it clear he wanted to get the fuck out as soon as he had his diploma.
Planning to say goodbye to him the day after his graduation had torn my heart into two. How was I going to kiss him, watch him climb into his car loaded up with everything he owned, and leave me? What if I broke down and asked him to stay? Could I survive him saying no?
It never got that far.
The sadness at the memory was instantly replaced with fiery rage. Fuck him for making me think about that horrible afternoon. He hadn’t answered my repeated knocking on his apartment door, and the curtainless window showed the place was vacant. The guy across the hall said Kyle had finished moving out and left a while ago.
My heart shredded further when I’d called his cellphone and it’d gone straight to voicemail. I sat on his doorstop and cried my stupid eyes out until there was nothing left but anger. Some at myself for being a fool, loving an asshole, and getting played, but most of it was aimed at him.
What a fucking coward.
I could breathe again when the elevator stopped and let us out. Henry dismissed me with a glare, wordlessly telling me I was on my own for getting back to the office.
It was sleeting outside and my feet froze in my heels instantly, so every step across the slick pavement was extra treacherous. It was close to lunch, and I didn’t have any appointments today. My pathetic frozen dinner in the freezer at work could wait. I’d treat myself to dessert first.
Despite my attempts not to think about Kyle, I somehow typed his name into the browser on my phone while I waited in line to drown my sorrows at Mac Bakery. Why wasn’t I more interested in the macaron flavors they were offering? Instead of looking at the hand lettered chalkboard menu, I peered at the tiny screen of my iPhone, demanding it tell me what he’d been up to since he’d fled Chicago.
Since he’d pulverized my heart and left me a bawling mess on his doorstep.
Google didn’t have answers. There were a few mentions of him regarding casework, starting last year, for his parents’ firm. What had happened to bring him back to the city, and gotten him to work for his parents? He’d acted like he’d work anywhere but with them.
“What can I get for you?” The woman behind the counter stared at me expectantly.
There were rows of perfectly formed French macarons stacked behind the glass. Each flavor sounded divine. Peanut butter. Chocolate mint. Birthday cake. It went on, and on, and I wanted them all in my mouth. How the fuck was I supposed to decide?
I got a box of six, swearing to myself I wouldn’t eat more than two before returning to the office. While I waited for them to be packaged, I glanced once more at my phone.
Huh.
I wouldn’t have pegged Kyle for a philanthropist, but then again, I obviously didn’t know him. On New Year’s Eve, he’d be the guest of honor at some fundraising party at the Opulent Hotel. Black tie, five hundred dollars a plate.
God, he’d look great in a tux.
Wait. No.
In fact, hell-to-the-fucking nope. Fuck him in his tuxedo-wearing ass. I hoped he’d choke on a gourmet hors d’oeuvre. That was the last I was going to think about Kyle McCreary. I paid for my macarons, snatched up the bag, and flung the door open, scurrying out into the cold.
Chapter
FIVE
KYLE
I spent Christmas Eve at Payton and Dominic’s place, sitting off to the side while the rest of her coupled friends celebrated together. Noemi, Joseph’s fiancé, was considerably younger than everyone else. Even if she’d wanted to distance herself from the group, Joseph wouldn’t allow it. His arm was always around her shoulders, or a hand rested on her hip, holding her against him.
Holding her close.
Not that the girl wanted to be anywhere else. She seemed to hang on Payton’s every word, like my sister could do no wrong. Did she know what Payton used to do for a living? She had to. Her future husband created the club. He’d run it for years before selling it to Julius.
The glass of spiced eggnog in my hand was getting warm, and I ignored it. I stared out the enormous floor-to-ceiling window of my sister and her husband’s apartment which usually had a magnificent view of North Beach, only it was snowing and over
cast tonight. The only thing I could see in the window was the reflection of twinkling white lights from the Christmas tree.
Sitting in a chair across from me was a large guy, who appeared more out of place than I was, except he was attached to the redheaded FBI agent. I wasn’t sure which name to use. She’d been Special Agent Andrea Adams during the deposition, but everyone here called her Regan, her enormous boyfriend included. So I’d stick with that.
The cuffs of his sweater were pushed back, revealing a sleeve of ink on one arm. I wasn’t a tattoo person myself, but the pattern was interesting.
“Is the design yours?” I asked him, trying to make conversation. Payton had said the guy was an artist.
His voice was deep, matching his large form. “Yeah.”
Before I could compliment it, Joseph’s head turned toward us. “That reminds me, Silas. If I wanted to add to my tattoo, would you have time?”
Noemi’s face skewed with alarm. “What are you doing to your tattoo?”
“Relax,” he said, hushed. “I’m not going to change the overall design. I just want to revise the wording.” Joseph’s dark eyes lit with amusement. “I wouldn’t dream of jeopardizing your favorite part of me.”
She tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, revealing a serious expression. “It is the only reason I’m with you.”
“Oh, is it, now?” Joseph’s voice was playful, but contained an edge beneath. His hand slipped from the small of her back, coursing down until it rested on her ass, and then he squeezed so hard, she bit her bottom lip. As if silencing a yelp of surprise. “Because I can think of some other parts of me you like. Should I keep those to myself?”
She leaned in close, whispering. I couldn’t hear it, but her lips moved to form what appeared to be, “No, sir.”
Victory ran through his expression.
Watching the exchange made ugly jealousy churn deep inside me. Their partnership filled me with envy. I was aggravated I was having difficulty finding a woman I wanted to spend time with both inside and outside of the bedroom. Would I ever find one who was interested in the same things I was?
You’ve already met a woman like that.
The annoying thought slid into my brain like a seemingly innocuous line of text buried in a contract. Only those little words had major ramifications.
Yeah, I had met a woman like that, but Ruby hated my fucking guts. And I was just as angry and caught off guard as she seemed to be.
The petty streak in me was pissed she looked even better than when we’d been together at Randhurst. She’d have been easier to ignore if my cock hadn’t leaped to attention at the sight of her. It’d been ten days since the Crawfords’ meeting, but I remembered every detail of the event with painful clarity.
A strange prickle worked its way along my spine as I’d glanced at the brunette alongside the male attorney representing Mr. Crawford. My gaze started at her nude heels and moved swiftly upward as she shed her tan coat and unwrapped the plaid scarf from her neck. Beneath, she wore a navy fitted suitdress which clung perfectly to her, flaunting her hourglass figure.
Her hair was the color of dark chocolate and curled into soft waves, falling past her shoulders. I made it all the way to her face before I recognized her. The glasses threw me off. Black rimmed, hipster glasses were tucked beneath her bangs, giving her a sexy yet studious look.
I didn’t want to see Ruby again. Ever.
My scars from her had healed, or so I thought. Her gorgeous eyes, hidden behind the thick lenses, peered at me, and it tore open the wound so it was as fresh as the moment I’d driven away from Chicago.
“Kyle?” she’d said.
Her face flooded with shock, followed instantly with contempt. Our time apart hadn’t softened her feelings toward me either, it seemed.
Fine with me, I lied to myself. I could pretend the woman across the table meant absolutely nothing, even though she’d crushed me. Jesus, she was still crushing me now with those pouty lips and fire blazing in her eyes.
I’d held it together until the end of the meeting. Tension and unease grew with every moment Ruby came closer to walking out the door. What if I never saw her again? Was this how I wanted my last memory of her to be? She put her things away in a hurry.
“Ruby, do you have a minute?”
She shook her head, refusing to look at me, and it made me angry. How could she say no to one lousy conversation, after all this time? With what we’d had, didn’t she owe me at least that?
Her denial made my skin burn hot, and I couldn’t contain my frustration, so it came out more forceful than I wanted. “Ruby, a word.”
“Yeah? How about fuck you.”
Awesome. Add that to the list of sweet nothings she’d lobbed at me.
I watched her storm out, and after her boss’s unnecessary apology, I was left alone in the room with Courtney, who perked one eyebrow upward.
“That was a nice change of pace,” I said, gritting my teeth. “Usually it’s the husband who’s cussing at me.”
Courtney gave a sad smile.
I’d spent the rest of the day in my office, trying not to let Ruby’s angry voice ring in my head. I also forced myself not to seek out her email address from her firm’s website. I’d heard a joke once that an app existed where anytime you tried to call your ex, the phone would play Nickelback.
I didn’t download it, but whenever I got the urge to hunt for her contact info, I hummed “How You Remind Me” as punishment, and it seemed to work. But I could not stop thinking about her. Ruby Carter dominated not just my waking thoughts. I’d nearly flung the alarm clock across the room yesterday when it interrupted my dream moments before sinking my dick into a wet and waiting Ruby.
“What’s with the face?” Payton asked, drawing me back to the Christmas party. Her scolding gaze was fixated on me. “Still pissed about the white elephant game?”
I glanced at the box where I’d set the cooking apron decorated with a lobster body and the two matching claw oven mitts. “What do you mean?” I said. “I love it. I’m so relieved no one stole it from me.”
Payton grinned and plopped down on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She brought up the picture she’d taken when I’d modeled my prize, and zoomed in on my face, complete with idiotic expression. “See how awesome you look in it?”
“If you show it to anyone else, you’re dead to me.”
“Ooh.” She faked a sheepish look. “Yeah, I Instagramed that shit twenty minutes ago.”
“Okay, well, it was nice knowing you.”
Payton pocketed her phone and gave me her full attention. “Let’s talk New Year’s resolutions.”
“I don’t need any. I’m already perfect.”
“Ha!” She practically snorted. “That’s not what those products on your bathroom counter say.”
This again? I blinked slowly. “That’s the kettle calling the pot black. There’s at least as much shit on yours as there is mine.”
“I’m a woman. That’s normal for me. Is that why you don’t have a girlfriend? Are you worried she’d be crushed under an avalanche of metrosexual products if she stays at your place?”
Dominic lingered nearby, listening in. “Payton, it’s Christmas Eve. Cut him some slack.” As my brother-in-law took a swig of his beer, I was somewhat grateful he was on my side. That was, until he added, “Maybe looking good doesn’t come as easy to your brother as it does for me.”
“Asshole,” I said. “We know who’s better looking. I have the dollar to prove it.”
It was a running joke between us. A few nights after my sister and Dominic had returned from living abroad in Japan, I’d taken them out to dinner, and Payton made the bet the waitress would find her fiancée more attractive than me.
I’d lost that one, but won the dollar back when we asked the hostess. It had passed hands countless times, but currently was tucked in my wallet. It’d been the bartender the last time we’d gone out for drinks. He’d winked at me right after, and al
though I didn’t swing that way, I’d still take it as a win.
“Okay, Mr. Fucking Perfect,” Payton said. “My New Year’s resolution is to find you a special lady friend. And by lady friend, I mean someone you can stick your dick in.”
“Jesus.” I swallowed hard and choked on the spit. “You’re my sister.”
“Yeah, and you’re my mopey big brother who clearly needs to get laid. I can offer Dominic up as a wingman, but he’s too distracting. The wedding ring only slows the hoes down.” She glanced across the room. “Joseph. He needs a new project.”
I wasn’t sure how to feel about Joseph. As time went by, I was coming to terms with the club and Joseph’s role in all of it, but he’d set my sister down a path I wasn’t happy with.
“I don’t care to be referred to as a project, and you don’t seem to understand how resolutions work,” I said. “You can’t set one for someone else.”
My sister shrugged. “I do what I want, Kyle.”
Yeah, wasn’t that the fucking truth?
Black and gold balloons were suspended in netting over the dance floor of the Opulent Hotel’s ballroom, waiting for the clock to hit midnight and start the new year. Round tables covered with black tablecloths and gold napkins surrounded the hardwood tiles on three sides. The simple, temporary stage was on the fourth, and held the deejay booth.
I’d done what was required of me at the fundraiser twenty minutes ago. The superintendent gave a long speech, and I’d been called on stage to accept a plaque and handshake as the school’s gesture of gratitude. It’d been awkward, holding the man’s hand and my smile for a long moment while pictures were taken.
Did I need to stay all the way until midnight? I took a sip of my drink, which was far more Coke than bourbon, and glanced around the room. Frank Sinatra sang from the speakers and couples had partnered up on the dance floor, swaying to the music. Cocktail dresses sparkled in the soft chandelier light.
I needed to get out of here before the balloons rained down on all the happy partygoers. I was starting off another year in Chicago alone.
Fuck it.
