by Amelia Wilde
“It was a scary situation, Mom.”
“And you didn’t go to the police?”
“I tried.”
“They didn’t listen?”
“It was—there were more people involved than I thought. At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do.”
My mother presses her lips together, then speaks very carefully. “Angelica, what was it they asked you to do?” The tension in her voice sends a bolt of pain through my chest. Mom is imagining the worst, and I’m the bitch who hasn’t put her mind at ease.
“It—it was some kind of scheme. I was supposed to...download information from a rich man’s computer, and give it back to the man who lent Adam the money.”
Now she purses her lips, looking down at the fabric of the couch.
I can’t bear it.
“I didn’t want to steal from him, Mom. I never got any money. I just wanted to make sure that Adam was all right.” I lean forward and take her hand in mine. “I just had to protect him.” The words come out urgently, my voice low and pleading.
Mom shakes her head slowly. “I can’t blame you for that.” She takes another sip of the water, then carefully screws the top back on to the bottle. “I can only blame myself.”
“What?”
“I left the two of you on your own for too many years. You don’t have to shield him from the world anymore, Angie. He’s a grown man.”
“I know that.”
“I just don’t understand.”
“I know.”
“Don’t you feel badly about it all?”
She’s trying to figure out if she’s raised monsters instead of the decent people she’s always wanted us to be.
“Mom.” My voice is choked with tears. “I feel horrible about it every day. And not just because....”
I can’t continue. Jett’s face is all I can think of, but not his rage when I told him what I’d done. His contentment when we were in bed together, lying curled up together under the sheets.
“Oh, Angie,” she says, then gathers me into her arms. “You fell in love, didn’t you?”
I have to force the words out between sobs. “I fell in love...and I couldn’t stop it, even then.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Jett
Yesterday was a mistake.
After the piano bar, I called Connor at his office at Brandon, Inc.
“Hey. I’m working on the final paperwork right now, so I should have it up to you—”
I cut him off. “I’m not at the office.”
“You’re not? We have a meeting scheduled for...oh, wait. I’m seeing the email from Emily now.” Papers rustled in the background. “Where the hell are you, Brandon?”
“I’m out for the day. And so are you.”
“What?” Connor laughed. “Is this a joke? You’ve been a complete madman about everything for the last few weeks, and now—”
“Are you coming to the Swan with me or not?”
“Right now? It’s two o’clock in the afternoon!”
“Like you give a fuck that it’s two in the afternoon.”
“You know me too well.”
“Come downstairs. I’m going to be in front of the building in ten.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
He met me at the car.
We went to the Swan.
We stayed until three in the morning.
What the fuck did I do last night?
It comes back to me in a rush—the girl with auburn hair, kissing her hard in one of the Swan’s booths, her body thrashing against mine on the dance floor.
Our mouths don’t fit together.
It’s all wrong.
Connor grabbing my arm.
“Stop, man. Just stop.”
“Fuck off.”
“You don’t like this. I can see your face, Brandon.”
“No, I don’t like it.”
Connor’s eyes narrowed. “What happened to your girl?”
“What girl?”
“The woman in your office. She brought you dinner—I saw it. She was the one staying in your apartment, right? She seemed fucking amazing.”
“You don’t know her.”
“She’s clearly driving you crazy.”
I wheel toward Connor. I’ve lost count of my drinks. “I’m done with her.”
He puts his hand on my arm, pulls me toward a booth. “Was it serious?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters. Was it serious?”
“She was stealing from me.”
Connor laughs. “Like, the silver?”
“She was downloading shit from my computer so some shady asshole could transfer money out of my accounts.”
“Shit.” He shakes his head. “So another Emerald?”
The word slips out before I can stop myself. “No.”
“No? That seems shady as fuck.”
“No.”
My head swims, but now that Connor has asked the question and the answer has slipped out I can’t deny it. I’m too fucking drunk. I’m too fucking heartbroken.
“She’s not like Emerald.”
“Then what—”
“She had a reason. She did it for a reason. A good reason. I just never fucking listened to her. I was too pissed to care what she said.”
My stomach plummets to the floor. I’m slurring my words, probably incoherently, but something is so clear in my mind that it’s like a bell ringing down a silent street.
I was a complete prick. I reacted like the Jett I used to be when I was with Emerald, not the Jett I am when I’m with Angelica. She made me give a shit about how other people felt.
Because she gave a shit about how I felt.
She always did, which is why she was so God damn devastated in Cook’s office.
And I didn’t give her the fucking time of day.
“I have to go.”
“Yeah,” Connor says, and helps me up off the chair. He takes my phone, texts Stuart, and gets me to the car.
My head throbs with the memory, my cheeks sickly hot remembering the random girl I kissed at the Swan. No more women like her. Never again.
I have to see Angelica.
I have to tell her I’m sorry.
I have to give her a chance to explain everything, and then I have to do whatever I can to make sure she’s not locked up for this or doled out some other insane punishment.
The truth is that I did know Angelica. I do know her. And she would only do what she did if she absolutely had to.
Whether Charlie was going to make good on his threats or not, she felt like she had to do whatever was necessary to protect her brother.
Including stealing from me.
But that moment in the elevator—it doesn’t matter why she was going to the penthouse. What I felt then was as real as anything I’ve ever felt.
More real.
I get out of bed too quickly and my stomach lurches, so I take a second to get my balance. I have to get to her. But first I have to shower.
It takes me ninety minutes to get to Angelica’s place, and it involves some shady business of my own. I have to call her office and convince her boss to give me her address. It’s a damn good thing I’ve practiced being charming all my life, because she eventually gives it to me.
Riding the elevator on the way to her floor, my heart thuds against my rib cage.
There’s a good chance that this is going to turn out just as badly as what happened in Cook’s office did. There’s a good chance she won’t forgive me for the way I broke up with her in front of my accountant, then stood by as the police escorted her out of the building. There’s a good chance she’s done with me forever.
But I’m not done with her.
The elevator crawls upward.
In what seems like an eternity later, I double-check the number on the door, then glance down at my outfit. Dress pants and a collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. A jacket would have been too much.
>
I hesitate, then raise my hand and knock hard on the door.
There’s no movement or sound from inside.
I knock again.
Then I hear movement, faint, and her voice calling, “Just a minute.”
Dishes clatter against a sink.
Another long pause.
Then the door swings open, and in front of me stands the love of my God damn life.
“Jett.”
Her face is blank, expressionless.
“Can we talk?”
She takes in a breath, lets it out, and considers.
“No.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Angelica
I can’t fucking believe he’s standing in my doorway. My heart turns over, clenches, then explodes within my chest, pieces hurtling toward my rib cage.
What is he doing here?
“Jett.” I don’t have any other words. To say his name, to acknowledge that he’s here, is almost too much as it is. I can’t even breathe.
“Can we talk?” He doesn’t waste any time. He knows what he wants.
Do I?
My mind reels. Cook’s office. His anger. The look of sheer betrayal on his face.
When we leave here, I want you to understand something. We’re over.
We’re over.
We’re over.
We’re over.
So why does he want to talk to me?
Even though he does, it doesn’t change what I’ve done.
No. I can’t do this to him.
I can’t do this to me.
“No,” I say, and I close the door.
I don’t slam it. I close it gently, and then I turn around and lean up against it, my back against the smooth metal surface.
There’s a silence.
My entire body strains to hear what’s happening outside the door. I wait for the footsteps to retreat, for the ding of the elevator, for the inevitable stillness of Jett walking back out of my life forever.
Instead, there’s a gentle knock at the door, somewhere near my left shoulder.
“Angelica, let me in.” His voice is smooth, so fucking smooth, and I want to obey him. I want to open the door, but if I open the door I’ll be setting us both up for more heartache. How could he ever trust me again? I would never trust me again. I’ll be a constant reminder that he always needs to be wary.
I clear my throat. “No.”
“Why not?”
I blink a couple of times to clear away the tears that have started to form just from the sight of him. “We shouldn’t talk, Jett. We should just...leave each other be.”
Another pause. A rustle of fabric as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.
“Is that what you want?”
The lump comes to my throat so fast and so painful I almost can’t swallow past it. “No.”
“Then let me in.”
“This isn’t...this isn’t good for you, Jett.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Let me in.”
I haven’t locked the door. If he really wanted to, he could force his way inside. He’s strong enough, but he hasn’t. He’s letting me choose. He’s ceding me control. My heart bursts again.
I turn around, slowly, deliberately, and reach a shaking hand toward the doorknob.
In the instant before I open the door, I’m seized with the certainty that the hallway will be empty, that my delay will have been long enough to convince him that I’m not worth the effort, and he’ll have gone.
So I jerk the door open and stand there, breathing hard, taking him in.
He’s wearing dress pants and a pale blue shirt, the sleeves carefully rolled up to his elbows. All of it is tailored to the lines of his body. My mouth waters. Even now, even in the midst of this, I want him so much that it hurts. I want him so much it clouds my judgment. I want to reach out and undo those buttons so I can see the hard lines of his abs—
“Can I come in?” There’s a strange light in his eyes, like he could laugh, only this moment is so deadly serious.
“Yes. Sure.” I step back, holding the door open for him, and he comes in, bringing along a breeze of his scent with him, clean, spicy, a hint of cologne, and I want to bury my face in the side of his neck, gently bite down on his shoulder with my teeth.
Jett goes to the center of the living room. “Nice place.”
That was supposed to have flooded. The memory of the lie brings heat to my cheeks. “Thanks.”
“Do you have a roommate?” He glances at the two doorways on opposite ends of the living rooms. Two bedrooms.
“Yeah. Her name is Sarah. She’s away on a business trip.”
He nods, and his shoulders relax a fraction of an inch.
I stand rooted to the spot in the hallway in front of the door. It’s so strange seeing him here, in my apartment. We’ve only ever been to his places.
Unsurprisingly, he’s as much at home here as he was anywhere else we went. Jett Brandon owns any room he walks into, every single time.
“Mind if I sit down?”
The only thing that’s different is this attitude of deference. It hasn’t completely taken over—he had no problem telling me to open the door—but he’s being careful, like we’re on equal footing, even though we’re not.
“Not at all.”
He takes a seat on the couch and leans back against the cushions. It’s nothing like the furniture he has in his place, but I’ve never had any complaints about it.
Jett pats the cushion next to him. “Why don’t you join me, Angelica?”
For a moment I don’t think I can make the walk across the room to him, but then I take the first step and my body cooperates again. I don’t sit right next to him, though—I sit against the opposite arm, my back braced, my muscles tensed for a fight.
“So,” I say, my voice too loud, too strained. “What—what can I do for you?”
He gives me a half-smile that makes my insides go warm and melty. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, his expression turning more somber. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened.”
I look away, toward my bedroom. “We don’t have to talk about it, Jett. What I did was completely unforgivable.”
He takes a breath in, then lets it out slowly. “Do you really believe that?”
“I think you really believe that. I would believe that, if I were you.”
“I don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I’m being obtuse and I can’t help myself.
“I don’t think it’s unforgivable.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Jett
The moment I say it, her face relaxes, her shoulders falling away from their tense position up by her ears.
“You don’t?”
“No. I think it’s very possible that you did what you did because you thought it was your only option.”
Angelica turns red, bites her lip. “It was fucking stupid to think that.”
“Maybe it wasn’t. I don’t know, because you haven’t told me the whole story.”
She looks up at me, eyes flashing. “I wanted to, but—”
“But I was an asshole.” I scoot closer to her on the sofa and take both of her hands in mine. She doesn’t pull away. Her breath hitches in her chest when our skin makes contact. “No matter what the reason is, I should have given you a chance to explain.”
“You didn’t have to then, and you don’t have to now.”
“Do you remember that night at my office?” She nods, narrowing her eyes slightly. “When you told me you had feelings for me, were you lying? Was that part of a plot?”
Angelica glances down at our hands, wound tightly together like our lives depend on it. “I wanted to tell you something else.”
“What was it?”
“I was going to tell you about Charlie. About all of it, but then...I couldn’t. So I told you I had feelings for you instead.”
“And was it true?”
“It’s still true.”
Her
voice is barely above a whisper, but the words send a warmth to my heart that radiates out to my fingertips. This is all we need. We still have a shot.
“Tell me what happened, Angelica. All of it.”
She takes a deep breath and turns, letting go of my hands, so that the side of her body is pressed up against mine. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and hold on tight.
“This is embarrassing.”
“You don’t have to be embarrassed. Just start at the beginning.”
“My brother Adam called me one day. He doesn’t usually call, and he sounded pretty shaken up. He wanted me to come to his apartment.” Angelica focuses on some spot in the air in front of her. “I’ve bailed him out a few times since he moved to the city, so I thought it was more of the same.”
“Rent?”
“Yeah, or groceries. Once he got a job, he wanted to spend all his money on going out. I couldn’t blame him. We didn’t get much of a chance to cut loose back home growing up.”
“I see.”
“The only weird thing was that it had been a few months—maybe six?—since he’d called me for that kind of thing.”
“Getting on his feet.”
“So I thought.” Angelica tightens one hand around her knee. “When I got to his apartment, Charlie was there.”
“This is the guy he owed money to?”
“Yeah. And Charlie—” She shakes her head. “He’s tall. Taller than you, and strong. He looked like he came from the military or something like that, but....” She searches for the words. “But evil. He told me that in order to pay back Adam’s debts, I needed to help them with a project.”
“Getting access to my computer?”
“I didn’t know who it was at the time. But that’s what he said I had to do. Then he told Adam that he was lucky, because he and his guys could have just....” Angelica swallows hard. “He said they could have just taken me for payment.”
My stomach flips over. No wonder. “What a disgusting piece of—”
“Adam didn’t like it either,” she interjects. “He started to say something, and Charlie punched him. It was sick, Jett, the sound it made. He needed stitches.” She turns to look at me. “I couldn’t let anything like that happen to him again.”
