JACE (Lane Brothers Book 3)

by Kristina Weaver

  “So,” I say, waiting until she’s scattered half the bag. “If I find another home…”

  I hear her sigh and hide the grin the sound elicits.

  “Hannah, dear, is it too much to ask that I don’t have to die in an old person’s prison?”

  Oh, she’s such a drama queen.

  “You’ll outlive Satan, and you know it, you old crone,” I laugh, scanning the paper. “But I’ll make you a deal. If I can find an affordable caregiver, you can stay. If I can’t…you have to understand that there’s no way I can go to work and do my job while I worry about you. Last time it took me hours to find you when you went walkies.”

  That had been terrifying. I’d come home to an empty apartment and no note or sign of her. To this day I will never forget what I felt as I’d roamed the streets searching for her. I’d eventually stumbled across her here in the park, but it had been so scary it still gives me the chills.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  I’d expected more of a fight.

  “Yes, dear. Although, could you go for someone with personality? I need stimulating conversation.”

  I rather think, with the way she’s been picking up lovers, she’s had enough stimulation for her old heart, but I nod and go on reading.

  That’s when I see it, and boy, when you know you’ve messed up…I’ve messed up, big time, and I am so angry and mortified it takes a monumental effort not to react as Nana keeps babbling.

  There, staring at me from the gossip section, is a photo of Gregory staring heatedly at a woman. Who happens to be me. Wearing a stolen dress.

  Shit.

  I flick the paper closed with a tremor, feeling like an ostrich as I drop it to the bench and try to pretend it doesn’t exist. Not smart, but I’m still feeling crappy, and another disaster is not something I can handle today.

  But ignorance is definitely not bliss, and I worry about that photo all day till I’m ready to scream. When Jordan sees it…shit.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As I get off the elevator and do the death march towards my office, I feel so nervous I can hardly feel my legs. Not only do I have to face Jordan, knowing what I know, but if he or his wife has seen the paper, I know I’m in for a tongue lashing.

  I get to my desk and drop my purse in the drawer, eyeing the sofa. It’s still there, that goddamned dress, laughing mockingly at me, and I want to shred it or hit it or something.

  After a deep breath and a huge pep talk, I peep into Jordan’s office. Good, he’s not here. He will be soon, but at least I have enough time to grab some coffee before he gets in.

  “Oh my Lord, Han! You look like crap,” Lucy gasps when I look up from my cup to see her barrelling into the kitchen.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Did you see yesterday’s—”

  My stomach cramps.

  “Lucy—”

  “I can’t believe Taz didn’t tell us!” she continues, flopping down at my desk. “I knew something was up when they brought the account to such a small agency, but I never would have guessed this!”

  What? I can’t really track her words. I am tired and sleep-deprived. Nana, bless her, is more than a handful, and unless she was just getting back at me for Amber, I would say her singing shows are the norm. I’d woken at exactly two this morning with her singing at the top of her lungs.

  And I wasn’t lucky enough to get Sinatra. No, I’d gotten Streisand, performed a note too high for aural comfort. So yeah, no sleep.

  “Lucy. What the heck are you talking about?” I ask, shooing her from my chair so that I can flop into it and attempt to start my day.

  The funny part of this is that a week ago I was as spick and span as a Stepford wife. No hang overs from a horrible sex night, no sleepless nights from Nana’s Vegas tour, and no nervous stomach from seeing myself wearing a stolen dress. I’d been perfect.

  No, a week ago I had been in control of every single aspect of my life, and while I may not have been happy, exactly, it sure as hell beat what I’m feeling now.

  I look and feel like crap, and I don’t know what’s going to happen from one moment to the next.

  At least I got to tell Gregory Lucas what a douchebag he is.

  Small consolation, but that is true. It makes me feel a little better, and I can damn well guarantee the man will never come near me again.

  “I’m talking about the fact that Lucas has bought the agency! Lock, stock, and freaking barrel. Yates is staying on as VP, but from now on we’re going to be seeing a lot of him. He’s coming in to get things running smoothly. Apparently he’s some sort of financial genius, and he aims to get the agency back to its maximum potential.”

  I don’t think I’ve heard correctly. I pray I haven’t as nausea and a not-too-small dose of dread hits me.

  “He’s coming in today! I guess I shouldn’t be so excited. I mean, he’s hot and all, but totally off the market.”

  “Huh?”

  “I Googled him. I should have done it days ago. You’ll never guess who he’s engaged to. Selena Jeffries, of the New York Jeffries! I hope we get to meet her. I’m so excited.”

  I’ll bet. I, on the other hand, feel as if my life has entered the twilight zone, and the normal, organised woman I was is currently flitting around in an alternate universe while I’m stuck living a practical joke.

  I am a whore, a total slut, a home-wrecker. I’ve just banged a man who’s practically married.

  Lucy leaves, eventually, thank God, and by lunch I’ve been summoned by Mr Yates. Jordan hasn’t been in yet, and as I think about what could be happening I am not even slightly worried about the dress any more.

  My stomach has been tied in knots since Lucy’s little bomb, and I have a feeling as I exit the elevator that it’s going to get worse.

  “Go right in, Han, they’re waiting for you,” Taz says, giving me a thumbs up.

  They?

  I enter the office and force myself not to freeze when I see him casually sitting on the deep brown sofa, a smile lining his lips.

  “Mr Yates. Mr Lucas.”

  “Good afternoon, Miss Newman. Have a seat, please.”

  This is awkward, and not just because I told Gregory Lucas to go doodle himself. I can almost see the accusation in Yates’ eyes when he looks at me. I am not the only one who saw the gossip pages yesterday.

  “As you already know, the agency is now a part of Lucas Enterprises. We’ve been looking for a partner for a while, and I’m pleased to say that we have now found one. Mr Lucas will be here for the next month as he restructures the company and oversees our relocation to the financial district, where Lucas Enterprises is based.”

  We’re moving? Great, I’m going to have to get engaged to the goddamned subway just to get to work.

  “Jordan is not coming back, Miss Newman, and as a result that leaves you at loose ends.”

  Here it comes, I think, throwing a glare at my nemesis. Why I didn’t think this would get me fired is beyond me, but I should have known he’d throw a tantrum and have my ass kicked to the curb. I’m almost relieved, almost, as I keep my gaze trained away from him and breathe deeply.

  “You will be moving up here for the remainder of our stay, to assist Mr Lucas until such a time as we can place you elsewhere. For now I would like you to assist Taz in the packing and organisation of the upcoming move.”

  My brain has stalled and hooked on the first part of that statement. It’s only when I turn and look directly at Gregory that I know and believe what I’ve just heard.

  “Miss Newman?”

  I snap to attention and turn to Yates. I know what he sees: a woman in shock, horror, mortified. I’m speechless, and I know my face is telling the whole story as I gape at them.

  Work for Gregory Lucas? No. I can’t…

  “Perhaps you should give us a minute, Yates.”

  I wait until we’re alone before turning back to him.

  “I don’t want to work for you. Move me somewhere e
lse or fire me.”

  I can get another job, hopefully. What I can’t do is spend every day for the next weeks with this two-timing asshole without doing something I’ll regret, and I know it.

  “No, Hannah,” he says quietly, walking over to kneel at my chair. “You’ll be with me every day until I’ve had my fill of you.”

  Wait, what? Like I’m a bottomless Coke or something? He’ll drink till he’s full and then throw me away? Hell no.

  “Mr Lucas—”

  “You can’t argue here, Hannah. I hold all the cards. I tried to be nice about this and explain—”

  “What, exactly?” I interrupt, trying to stand. “What did you want to explain? How about why you felt it necessary to treat me like a call girl? Why you slept with me in the first place? Because from where I’m standing—”

  “I behaved poorly—”

  “Ya think? Look, Gregory, just forget about it. Place me with another exec and do your thing with the company; I’ll do mine. This thing…whatever it was, is over.”

  I am trapped in the chair and so conscious of his hand on my thigh. The sad truth of it is that no matter how disgusted I am by his behavior, my body is front and center, replaying the things he can make me feel.

  Control, Hannah.

  “I can’t do that. I want you,” he admits, and I see he likes that thought about as much as I do.

  “You have a fiancée,” I say between gritted teeth. “We should never have slept together in the first place. You’re a cheat, Gregory Lucas, and you’ve made me one by extension. I don’t want this, or you, or anything to do with you,” I hiss, pushing with enough force that I’m able to gain my feet and back towards the door.

  “Hannah—”

  “Shove your job. I’ll get another one.”

  There. I feel better already. Taking control back is a small victory because I know it’s costing me a job I can’t afford to lose, and that by this time next week I’ll probably be working a checkout counter if I’m lucky, but as I say the words I feel the familiar calm I’ve been searching for settle over me.

  “You can’t do that. You have too much invested here to just walk out,” he insists in a low growl.

  I can see he’s upset, that losing the advantage is not common practice and that he’s struggling to come back from my about face.

  “I can. I can do whatever I goddamned want. I win,” I say, smiling icily as I reach for the door.

  “Do you? What do you think your sister will say when I close the doors to Sweet Nothings?”

  The question stops me in my tracks, and I turn slowly, knowing I’ve just lost the battle. Hell, it has been a losing cause since the beginning. Why I’d thought Gregory would play fair I can’t say. What I can’t figure is why he’s doing this at all.

  “What?”

  “I invested in her bakery. She’s doing a piss poor job of managing it, and I stepped in—”

  “Why? Why are you doing this? Friday night told me loud and clear how much you don’t want me. I’m giving you an easy out, considering you’re engaged to another woman. Let me go.”

  I taste bile as the words pass my lips and swallow back a stream of curses and recriminations. I am floundering here, trying to understand what the hell is going on, and no matter how hard I try I can’t get a handle on it. Or myself.

  “Hannah.”

  “No! You’re just being a sore loser! Why can’t you just leave me alone?” I yell, not caring if anyone hears.

  He’s standing there, threatening me, blackmailing me to sleep with him again until he finally loses interest, and unless he changes his mind I know I have no choice. I’ll hate myself the entire time, and any liking for him that may still linger will turn into something I promised myself three years ago I would never feel again.

  I don’t want to hate him.

  Everything around me has become chaos, and instead of finding order I feel as if I’m sinking into quicksand.

  “Please, Gregory.”

  He closes his eyes for a second before opening them to pin me with a glare.

  “The condom broke.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  I do not react in any outward way. At least, not then, and most definitely not in Gregory’s presence. To be honest, when he’d said the words I’d pretty much just stood there, frozen and speechless as they sank in and marinated my brain.

  These things happen. I have to keep reminding myself of it four days later as I sit at my desk, arranging meetings and a whole host of things for Gregory.

  Yeah, don’t even judge me. I have no choice but to do what he wants. I consider myself lucky that he’d allowed me to just walk out and go back to my desk without pressuring me immediately.

  Hell, it’s been four days of constant meetings, and car rides to those meetings, and…we’ve been together a lot. I think he’s giving me time not to have a nervous breakdown before he puts the screws to me.

  I snort and stack the documents I’ve just printed, when a feminine trill reaches me from the doorway and I look up to see a blonde goddess walking my way.

  “Oh, hi. I’m Selena.”

  Looking at the fiancée of the man you’ve recently banged and keeping yourself from crumbling into a confession-riddled heap as you kiss her feet and beg forgiveness…not the easiest thing in the world.

  “Ah, er, hello. I’ll just buzz Mr Lucas,” I say weakly, keeping my eyes downcast.

  So sue me, I am terrified she’ll take one look at me and know what I’ve done. Explaining that I had no clue he is engaged isn’t much of a consolation anyway, and I wouldn’t blame her if she punched me and picked me bald.

  “Hannah,” he breathes into the phone, making me aware that my time is up as far as the stay of sexecution is concerned.

  “Mr Lucas, sir, Miss Jeffries is here to see you,” I say calmly, though my heart is pounding and I feel awful.

  Is it right to feel like I’m being betrayed here? Probably not, but as he clears his throat and tells me to show her in, I feel used and betrayed and…hurt.

  Weird, huh?

  But a little okay, considering he’d just told me the goddamned condom broke and he has no intention of letting me go until he’s used me up. God. I should tell Amber she can deal with him herself and take Nana and just skip town.

  I know it, I know it’s the most sensible and rational thing to do, and yet as I rise and show Selena Jeffries into his office, I know I’m staying exactly where I am.

  “Lena.”

  I watch as he leans in to place a soft kiss on her cheek and greet her warmly.

  “Will that be all?”

  That’s right, Han, be professional.

  When he looks up at me over her shoulder, his eyes guileless and unmoved, I know I am in deep shit. Gregory Lucas feels no shame in owning me even as he kisses his fiancée.

  “For now, Hannah.”

  I turn and walk out, keeping my spine stiff and unyielding the whole hour I am forced to work while another woman — his woman — is in there with him, doing God knows what.

  When she finally comes out, Gregory steering her toward the elevator, I force myself to keep working and not look up. Guilt or jealousy, I don’t know, but I feel wretched.

  “Come into my office please, Han.”

  I don’t want him to call me Han. Or Hannah. Or darlin’. I want to be Miss Newman again. Miss Newman isn’t a foolish ninny or a two-timing—

  “I’ll be right with you, Mr Lucas. I just have to send this email,” I say, keeping my eyes on the monitor.

  “Now, Hannah. We need to talk,” he says implacably.

  But I don’t want to! Why can’t he just leave me alone while I wait to go to the doctor’s? The minute I get a negative result, bakery or no bakery, I am so out of here.

  I’m a fool, but I’m no idiot, and I know that staying any longer than that will not only destroy me, but will push me back into that dark, trapped place where I existed three years ago.

  I rise, collecting my notepad an
d pencil, to follow him into his office, tensing when I hear the lock snick into place. He steers me to the seating area on the right and waits for me to sit before coming down beside me.

  “Hannah, look at me please.”

  I do, keeping my face blank as I meet his hard, determined eyes.

  “We haven’t spoken since Monday.”

  No, I know, I’ve done my utmost not to be alone with him long enough to have this conversation, and he damned well knows it. But as I’ve said, my reprieve is up, and I know he won’t stop until he gets what he wants.

  “I’ve made an appointment at the doctor for week after next. When I know, you’ll know,” I say in a no-nonsense voice I am immensely proud of.

  He leans back with a huff, and I see the frustration written all over his face. This can’t be easy for him. I mean, the man is so used to getting his own way in all things, so my attitude is probably a foreign concept, like snow in June.

  “You’re skirting the issue here, Han.”

  “I am not your goddamned ‘Han.’ Or ‘darlin’.’ Or any other thing you want to call me!” I hiss, coming to my feet with a speed that leaves me dizzy. “I work for you. End of story.”

  He’s upset now, angry that I won’t just fall in with his plans, as if by some quirk of fate he’s only now meeting resistance from a woman. I want to laugh, a real, out-loud belly laugh, because his expression reminds me of a sulky child’s.

  “You forget so easily what we shared?”

  Oh, so now he’s going to look at me with scorn? I wasn’t the one who’d fled the bed with a haste that signalled more than fear of commitment.

  “We shared one night,” I laugh scornfully. “One hour’s worth of ho-hum sex that I’d rather not repeat again. Thanks though.”

  So what if it’s a bald-faced lie? I’m not proud of how traitorous my body is, but I am so on board with the reasonable part of me that insists that sleeping with Gregory will be the biggest mistake I have ever made.

  Apparently I’ve become a comedian, because my proud little speech is met with laughter and a look that spells out just how much he believes me.