One to Chase (One to Hold #7)

by Tia Louise

  Tired of being ignored, Armand finally approached me on the dance floor and took my arm. “Time to go, cherie.”

  Slugging the last of my champagne, I kissed C.J. on both cheeks. He made some outlandish comment about coaches turning to pumpkins, but I only shook my head.

  “If I lose my shoe at the ball, it’s because I’m drunk,” and with that I followed my distinguished escort out to his car to endure the silent drive home.

  Now we’re at Sylvia’s building, and all I want is to go inside and try to sleep away this entire night. At the very least, I’ve got to get away from Armand’s smirk. He watches me as if some mystery has been solved. I don’t even want to know what he’s thinking.

  Reaching for the door, I’m ready to fly out, but he holds my forearm. “Amalie.” His low voice ripples through the silence. I don’t look up. “At least let me tell you goodbye.”

  Goodbye. Not the French au revoir, which means til we meet again. He’s giving me the American version of it’s over. It causes me to meet his eyes, and I’m relieved to see he’s not angry.

  “I didn’t ask you to come here.” It’s a soft statement of fact. I’m not trying to hurt him. I’m only trying to establish the truth.

  “Yes.” He releases my arm and leans back in the leather seat of the Towncar. “Still, I’m glad I came. It seems my path is different than I originally thought.”

  I don’t know what he means, but he seems to be letting me go. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

  “No pain, ma petite. Only loss.” He lifts my hand and kisses the back of my fingers. “Our memories will always be beautiful.”

  Taking my hand back, I don’t say more. I skip out and make my way to Sylvia’s condo. Sylvia’s asleep. Of course she is—it’s after midnight.

  Closing my bedroom door, I’m hit with a mixture of relief and loss. I don’t want him back—I didn’t even want him in Chicago. With a shuddering inhale, I face the truth. God, all I want is Marcus.

  I allow my dress to slide from my shoulders, leaving me completely nude. Eyes closed, my head rocks from too much champagne. But not more than enough—all my memories are intact, and I remember vividly where my panties are.

  Will he go home with her? Can he possibly sleep with her after what we did? My guts churn with the idea that he might touch her, kiss her, make her come. Tears flood my eyes, despite how hard I try to fight them. He could very well do that. I’ve seen men act one way and just as quickly shut off the feelings they swear are so real.

  I’ve witnessed betrayal firsthand.

  Pushing through the blankets, I curl into a ball and allow the tears to fall. I want to believe him so much, but everything in me fights against allowing him to possess me.

  His words filter back, haunting me. Just try.

  Eyes closed, my brain continues to sway, and my dreams float to a boat beneath Lake Michigan, to the best weekend of my life.

  * * *

  Marcus

  I’m back in my “ridiculous” office, but Amy’s not here. I’m not sure where I stand with her. I said I wouldn’t force her. Hell, I said I wouldn’t chase her, and then I took off from the gala after her like a lion on a gazelle. I’ve given up trying to figure out which of my declarations are true and which are total bullshit.

  What I do know is Paige will be here any minute, and I intend to tell her it’s over. I’m done. She doesn’t need my help anymore. Karen has called off the smear campaign, and I’m ready to go back to what I was doing before our detour—securing Amy at my side. Showing her she can trust me. She’s safe with me. She’s everything I want.

  We’re both caged in this society bullshit, but at the same time, she couldn’t be more separate. She fights their pretensions and wins with easy transparency. What you see is what you get, and it’s stellar and amazing. She turns heads without even trying. It’s the only reason I can fathom they hate her.

  I intend to protect her from them.

  “Paige Goldfarb to see you.” Charity’s voice chirps through my musings.

  “Send her back.” I wake my computer and click through our new and improved website.

  It’s smooth and incredibly streamlined, considering all the new images and information we added. It’s seamless. Each page leads logically to the next. I can’t help wondering if she really plans to return to finance, and if she does, will she leave the city? I will not let that happen.

  Paige breezes into my office wearing a slim-fit navy sheath dress with cap sleeves. She’s the picture of conformity—except for the snakeskin needlepoint heels. I can’t stop a grin at her sheer command of the situation. Amy would love Paige. I’m sure of it—if I could only explain everything to her, which I gave my word I wouldn’t.

  Paige sits for a moment in silence. A frown crosses her brow, and I decide to own what happened. “Sorry for being out of the loop Saturday night.”

  “That’s one way to put it.” She’s in the mustard leather chair across from me, and her frown softens into humorous chastisement.

  My door is open, so I don’t get too specific. “Where do we stand?”

  She smiles. “I’d say your work here is done.”

  “Really?” My eyebrow arches. “I confess. I never had much faith in your plan.”

  “Don’t underestimate the power of humiliation.” I catch a glimpse of the annoyance she brought with her, and I backpedal.

  “I didn’t have time to consider how it might look for you.”

  “You mean your dramatic exit followed by the return of Miss Knight looking thoroughly... manhandled? Why should you consider me?”

  Standing I go to the door and quickly push it shut. “You’re saying everyone knows what happened?”

  “I don’t know about everyone, but the people who mattered had a fairly easy time putting two and two together.”

  With a deep exhale, I drop into my chair. “I’m sorry I let you down.”

  When she said my work was done, I’d assumed it was because she’d been accepted. Instead of storming around in anger, however, she leans back and smiles.

  “Don’t look so worried. You actually finished whatever you started at Studio O.” Confusion is clear on my face, and she continues. “Whatever Amy Knight did to Karen, it must’ve been pretty bad because the idea of you screwing around with her while you’re supposed to be dating me turned us into instant besties.”

  I can’t hide my grimace. “I can’t think of anything worse.”

  “I know!” She laughs off my disgust. “I’m considering using the opportunity to tell her what I really think of her bullshit.”

  “Hang on...” I have to hand it to Paige, every word she’s said has knocked me off balance since she walked through the door. “What about your future children?”

  “Which leads us to the second thing that happened after you disappeared.”

  “Which was—?”

  “I met the most amazing man.” She blinks down, but not before I catch the glow in her eyes. Her expression likely mirrors mine when I think of Amy. “Anyway, as a result, Karen can go straight to hell.”

  I know I should be pissed at her for stealing my time on a ploy that she has obviously abandoned, but I’m not. I’m truly happy for her.

  “Good for you. Anyone I know?”

  “Possibly.” She gives me a little grin. “We spent Saturday night together and all day yesterday.”

  “Wait.” My brow lines as I recall taking her back to her condo following the gala. “I took you home—”

  “And I called a car and went to the Drake. He’s staying in the presidential suite.”

  “Damn, girl.” Rubbing my chin, I have to hand it to her. “You didn’t need me at all.”

  “Not true. I wouldn’t have been at the gala without you.” She looks over my shoulder, out the window. “Thank you for that. For the past weeks.”

  “For Saturday night and Sunday? You’re very welcome.”

  A naughty grin slides across her lips. “I’m no
t used to finding a man who can keep up with me.”

  “I know you’re not talking about me.” Sleeping with Paige was a bridge I would not cross as long as Amy was a possibility.

  Her eyes twinkle, and she even laughs. “I am not. I’m here today to, quote, end things with you, even though everyone presumes I’m angry, which I’m not.”

  “That’s a relief.” I give her a wink. “After that?”

  “He has his own situation to resolve, then he’s headed to New York on business. I’ll accompany him as far as Manhattan and see where we go from there.”

  Watching her sit across from me, exuding confidence in her navy dress and snakeskin heels, I have to repeat what I’ve already said before. “You never needed me. You’re fine all by yourself.”

  “We all need somebody. Figuring out who we can trust is the primary battle.” She stands and picks up her clutch. “Let me know if I can ever return the favor.”

  I stand and hold out my hand. “Take care of yourself.”

  She smiles and we shake. A flick of blonde hair, and she’s out my door, leaving me with one thing on my mind—Amy.

  Chapter 17: Full Tilt

  Amy

  I still haven’t figured out what to do by Monday. For starters, I’ve sent out so many feelers saying I’m doing PR work, I can’t switch gears without raising suspicion. Especially when the only PR job I’ve done is with Marcus.

  I suppose I could simply turn down the job with Dickerson, Cox, and Broadhead—the very idea of working with Roland makes my skin crawl. Only, it’s a bad signal to send through the top firms in Chicago. I should be professional enough to work with anyone.

  Standing in front of the coffee maker watching my mug fill, I try to picture myself being in that office. Another shiver crosses my shoulders. I don’t know what to do. Shaking my head, I pick up the now-full cup.

  “You never told me about the gala.”

  I shriek and nearly toss it. “Sylvia!” Holding a hand on my chest, I try to calm my galloping heart.

  She laughs, but it’s breathy, almost weak. “Sorry to startle you.”

  “Where were you yesterday?”

  I’d spent most of the morning in bed sleeping off the night before, and when I finally emerged, the condo was empty. I exchanged a few texts with C.J. who was making a weekend of it with his new crush—the young-looking boyish one I won’t refer to in the same manner as my friend.

  No complaints here. I moved from the couch to the kitchen to have a very unhealthy lunch and then back again before collapsing in bed for the night around seven. Still no sign of my mother.

  She moves past me into the kitchen, carrying a mug, and I get the distinct impression she’s trying to evade my question. “I had a lunch date,” she finally says.

  Lunch date? Sipping my coffee as I watch her, I can’t help noticing how slowly she moves. She’s also not wearing her usual casual day-chic—dark jeans and a loose blouse or even black pants and a sweater. She’s wearing a robe.

  “A lunch date all day? Who did you meet?”

  She’s standing at the cabinet not answering, staring inside, but not seeming to see what’s in front of her.

  “Mom?” I walk over to her and set my down my coffee, reaching for her arm.

  When CRASH!

  My entire world tilts.

  My fingers close around empty air as my beautiful mother collapses to the floor.

  “SYLVIA!” My throat closes up and I’m shrieking. I’m on my knees beside her, shaking her arm, panic gripping my chest. “Sylvia! Sylvia!!!”

  No response. My vision blurs, and I can’t see. I’m crying. I’m sobbing. My breath hiccups, and a cry rips through my lungs. Pushing off the floor, I dive for my phone on the counter.

  “911! 911!” I scream the numbers as I dial them. An operator is on the line asking what’s my emergency. “My mother’s unconscious on the floor.” I’m back beside her, my hands fluttering near her face. I can’t stop shaking. I don’t know what to do.

  “We’ll have an EMS unit there in two minutes.” The woman’s voice is unnaturally calm, and I waver between gasping for breath and screaming at her.

  “How do you know where I am?”

  “Your address appears with your number.” Her voice doesn’t change. She’s speaking like I’m placing an order at Sax.

  “You’re not taking this seriously enough!” I’m about to be sick.

  “Miss, I need you to remain calm and answer my questions.”

  What the fuck? Stay CALM? “Are you kidding me?” I shout. “My mother. Is. Unconscious!!!” Oh, god, I’m crying more. Snot is on my upper lip.

  “Has she been experiencing any unusual pain or nausea?”

  My hands are trembling, and I can’t stop stroking Sylvia’s forehead. Her eyes won’t open, and her body is rigid. “Her muscles are flexed, like she’s fighting something.”

  “They’re seconds from your building. Do you know if your mother has had any pain in her jaw or back?”

  Oh god oh god oh god. I hold her hand, my mind racing, trying to think. “She thought she had food poisoning last week...” Oh god oh god oh god. “She made a dentist appointment for TMJ—”

  “Has your mother ever been the victim of a stroke?”

  “NO!” I scream, fear twisting my stomach so hard I nearly drop the phone. Oh god oh god oh god oh god! Not Sylvia!

  A feral sound, somewhere between a whine and a strangled shriek rips through my throat as my eyes squeeze shut. Tears wash down my cheeks, and loud banging starts on the door.

  I don’t even think about the dispatcher. I hit End and fly across the kitchen. Emergency workers push through the door so hard, I’m thrown back against the wall. They’re all around her, and I’m struggling to keep it together.

  Breathe. Don’t pass out. Stop crying.

  One of the men has been talking into a little black device attached to his shoulder since they arrived, and a silver stretcher bangs through the door. It’s happening so fast. Brawny men heft her delicate body onto the white mattress, and they’re strapping her down, running oxygen and tubes to her arms and against her beautiful face. They’re being too rough.

  “Please be gentle!” I cry, fighting the flood of tears that refuse to stop.

  I’ve got to call Patrick. I need Stuart. I need my brothers here. I want to protect her, but nobody listens to me. My teeth grind. I’m so useless and helpless and weak. It’s the worst feeling in the universe.

  “We’re taking her to Northwestern Memorial.” They’re at the door, and I’m trying to chase after them.

  “Please let me ride with you!”

  A female steps forward and catches my shoulders. “It’s better if you don’t.” Her voice is calm, soothing, but it doesn’t help my crumbling insides. “We’ll be working on her on the drive, and you’ll be in the way.”

  “I need to be with her. My mother needs me.” I try to push past her, but she holds my shoulders.

  “Is there anyone you can call?”

  Marcus. Shaking my head. “I need to call my brothers.”

  “See if you can get a ride—you shouldn’t drive—and contact your brothers on the way.”

  With that, they’re gone. All of them. I’m left standing in the silent kitchen alone, my brain spiraling in my head.

  Sylvia didn’t wake up.

  I can’t stop shaking.

  I’m so afraid.

  Without thinking, I touch the buttons.

  * * *

  Marcus

  My expensive shoes squeak against the cheap linoleum floor, and I’m practically running through the ICU. One thought repeats in my head—She called me.

  Dammit, that has to mean something.

  The moment I see her, the very second her form registers in my brain, my instinct to protect her twists in my stomach.

  Amy sits in a dark blue vinyl chair, her slim arms hugged tightly around her midsection as if she’s holding her insides together with all her strength. She’s l
eaned forward slightly. Her hair is tied back, but thin wisps frame her face. She looks so young and vulnerable. I’m moving even faster now. Her chin lifts, and red-rimmed eyes meet mine. I don’t stop until I’m in front of her, pulling her into my arms.

  “Come here.” My voice is sharper than I intended. I can’t help it. This woman holds my heart in her fucking hands, and seeing her like this, so shattered, impacts me deeper than I was prepared to handle.

  She doesn’t seem to notice as she melts into my embrace. I feel her grip the back of my shirt, and all I can do is hug her to me, kiss the top of her head, and tell her over and over I’m here. It’s going to be okay.

  I’m not lying. Sylvia was beyond fortunate Amy was there to respond so fast.

  “You did everything right,” I murmur between pressing kisses against her beautiful hair. “She’s going to be okay. This is one of the best hospitals in the country.”

  She’s shaking as I hold her, and I know she can’t answer me. I don’t quite remember my own mother, but I can imagine how frightened she must feel. Hell, I’d be apoplectic if it were Edward, and he’s never been the warmest of fathers. The closest I can imagine is if something happened to Elaine. My chest clenches, and I hug Amy again.

  “Don’t be afraid, my love.” Yep, I said it, and I’ll keep on saying it until she hears me. At this point, she’s too shell-shocked to pull away.

  A little sniff, her hand moves to her face. She lifts her chin, but I can’t help noticing she’s made no attempt to leave my embrace.

  “I called Stuart and Patrick.” Her voice is small. “They’re taking the first planes available, but it’s going to be a while.”

  “A direct flight from Princeton is at least two and a half hours.” I smooth one hand up and down her back. “From Wilmington, it’s four.”

  She nods rapidly against me. I don’t know what else to say, so I reach back for the days when it was just Elaine and me. I think about when she would be upset, and I would try to fix whatever it was. One time, she’d told me sometimes all she needed was my support.

  “You’re amazing,” I whisper against her hair. “You probably saved her life by calling help so fast.”