Nina and I both jerked like we’d been yanked by the hair. With a snarl on my lips, I turned to the intruders: two cocky men with impeccably fitted, if boring, gray suits, matching floppy brown hair, and razor-straight noses that only those from a certain class have. The kind who sparred in fencing matches, not schoolyard battles.
I took a long drink of champagne to hide my irritation. Nina simply resumed the bored expression I’d come to recognize as the trademark mask of the rich and useless. I fucking hated it. It was so at odds with the vibrant, intelligent woman I knew. The woman who was capable of so damn much—if she and everyone else would only give her a chance.
“Chase. Sawyer.”
She greeted the men courteously, but with a caustic edge that either I was the only one to hear, or else they were too self-absorbed to notice. As I caught the flicker of her expression when each man leaned in to kiss her cheek, I was pretty sure it was the latter.
She didn’t, however, introduce me.
“Hey, gorgeous,” said the first jackass as he smoothed back one side of his hair and straightened his tie. “God, look at you. A vision. We were hoping you’d make your triumphant return tonight.”
“And without the ball and chain, no less,” added Jackass Number Two as he examined Nina in her dress like she was something on display at the butcher shop. He actually licked his thin lips before taking a drink of his champagne.
Jackass Number One nodded. “We were all taking bets on how long you and Gardner would last, you know. Grayson had ten years, the bastard. I owe him that fifty grand now, thanks to you. Did you know Gardner’s nickname around the club? Chase here called him ‘The Grub’ once, and it stuck! So, for a while, I guess that made you ‘Mrs. Grub.’”
He grinned like she was in on the joke, and the other one laughed outright. Nina bared her teeth in a polite smile, but her jaw tightened. I wanted to punch both of them in their flash-bulb veneers. As satisfying as it was to know other members of Nina’s social circle thought Calvin Gardner was unfit for this goddess (and resembled a wormy little scavenger), the way they had all been casually betting on her marriage like she was a thoroughbred was infuriating. Where were they, I wanted to ask, when she was being conned for everything she was worth? Where were they when she practically signed away her life and had gotten wrapped up in his schemes?
Where were any of these smug motherfuckers then?
“So, Nina,” said Jackass Number One (I couldn’t remember either of their names, and I really didn’t give a shit either). “How was the big house? Bigger than your house?”
“Did you get lucky on the inside?” added Jackass Number Two as his eyebrows popped up and down like overly groomed caterpillars.
“What a fantasy that is,” said Number One. “That’ll keep me in business for a good while, if you know what I mean. Thank you for that, Mrs. Gardner.”
“Oh God, yes,” agreed Number Two. “Every morning in the shower for the next six months at least.”
Were they for real? Were these two pigeon-shaped hot air balloons actually saying they were going to jack off to the idea of Nina in jail? To her face? What in the ever-loving fuck was wrong with these people?
I opened my mouth to tell both of them to have some fuckin’ respect or I’d teach it to them myself, but Nina spoke up first.
“That’s enough,” she said sharply.
“Come on, now, Astor,” taunted Number One. “It’s just a friendly joke.”
He used what I recognized as her father’s surname—the one she’d given me when we met, but which she’d also shunned as a teenager. Which meant she must have known these jokers long enough for them to have used it regularly back in the day. I didn’t care how long they’d known her. They deserved to have their teeth knocked in regardless.
“It’s disgusting, and you’re disgusting when you tell it,” Nina retorted. “Frankly, Sawyer, I’m surprised you’d bait me like that. Particularly when you might find yourself in a similar situation one of these days.”
The smug grin on Jackass One’s face disappeared. “Excuse me?”
Nina took a step closer, and her voice dropped, thick and husky. “I think you know. The thing about being married to a grub…I know exactly which carrion he devours. Like your father’s company, Sawyer. And the ways in which Calvin may have curried your favor.”
It was a bluff. I knew it was a bluff. Until last September, Nina had known only the basics of Calvin’s operation, and nothing about its prostitution side.
But the look on both these men’s faces told me they weren’t so sure…and that ten to one, they had made use of Calvin Gardner’s little operation over the years.
Nina stepped back and took a calm sip of her champagne. “You might want to consider that before you make me the object of your schoolboy fantasies.” Her face remained placid, but her voice sounded tight, like a string pulled past its capacity. My hands clenched. Something told me this string was about to snap.
“Whatever,” said Jackass Number Two. He nudged his friend. “Something tells me that after ten years, you’re probably used goods anyway.”
I almost flew forward with a punch right there, but once again, Nina beat me to it. Her glass flew out of her hand, and champagne coated the man’s face, tie, and expensive suit before the flute fell to the ground with a smash that was only just hidden by the loud music and hum of the party.
“Bitch!” Both men jumped back, as if the action would allow them to step out of the sopping mess of champagne covering their clothes. “What the fuck, Nina!”
A few of the people around us turned with bored expressions to see what was happening, but it was soon clear that watching these gentlemen have drinks thrown in their faces was nothing new.
Jackass Number One raised his hand, ready to retaliate. This time, I did step in front of Nina and pushed her solidly behind my back. Her hands rested against my shoulder blades, fingers quivering with tension.
“Just try it, son,” I growled, low enough that I was only heard by the four of us. “Touch her, and I’ll knock every one of those pretty teeth out.”
“Oh, really?” sneered Jackass Two as he shook out his tie. “And who are you, her white knight? Or just her mangy guard dog.”
“I’m whoever the fuck she wants me to be,” I snarled. “And if you’d like to learn more, I’m happy to make an introduction outside.”
Both men looked like they wanted to take me up on my offer, but before either could say anything, the music was shut off and a high-pitched ringing of silver tapping crystal filled the room, catching everyone’s attention.
“Stop.” Nina’s voice was barely above a whisper, her breath warm against the back of my ear. “Thank you. But you can stop now.”
I was shaking with anger. Anticipation. I hadn’t wanted to fight this badly since I was in the Marines. I hadn’t realized until now how deeply that need was ingrained in me, how being a DA had given me a place to channel it. And now I didn’t have it anymore.
But Nina’s touch brought me back from the brink. I turned around to face her; the only thing I saw was gratitude. Well, it was a hell of a lot better than the irritation I’d seen before.
Now apparently more concerned with missing the gossip than with being taught a lesson from yours truly, the two jackasses turned with the rest of the crowd to face Eric, who was standing on a stool that elevated him about two feet above everyone else. Jane stood next to him at regular height, looking resplendent in a bright red dress, a few matching stripes of color shooting through her black-brown hair.
“Everyone,” Eric called out from the head of the room. “First of all, we’d like to thank you for coming tonight. It’s a hell of a housewarming, I’ll give you that.”
There was a round of hoots and hollers, though the people in the room who seemed the loudest also seemed to be the youngest. Eric had more friends than I’d realized. Or maybe that’s just who comes out of the woodwork when you inherit seventeen billion dollars.
“This gorgeous woman and I are thrilled to announce that Jane has just been accepted on early admission to the Fashion Institute of Technology!”
There was a gasp behind me, then another round of deafening cheers, though I doubted any of these people really cared about Jane’s triumphs. I was happy for her, though. Jane needed this more than most, and she was talented. Better her than anyone else.
I turned to Nina to say as much and found her staring at Eric, eyes bulging, face reddened. While everyone shouted their well-wishes to the couple, she looked anything but happy.
Fuck distance. Fuck space.
“Hey.” I slipped a hand around her waist and pulled her close enough to hear me. “Are you all right?”
“Oh.” Nina pressed a hand to her heart as if she were in pain. “Oh, God.”
I didn’t have to know why she felt the way she did. Only that she did. And that I needed to help.
“Please,” she begged suddenly. “Out. Matthew, I need to get out.”
“You got it,” I said as the crowd swarmed forward to Jane and Eric. I grabbed her hand and immediately started towing her through the crowd, mindless of who or what I might be knocking aside with my shoulders and a few pointed elbows.
With a few curious glances, Tony and the security team allowed us past the barrier to the upper floors of the townhouse. Up, up, up we climbed, beyond the noise of the party, past the third-floor bedrooms where John Carson had been shot. We continued to a door at the very top, which opened onto the newly renovated rooftop patio. The rush of Central Park West and Seventy-Sixth Street were reduced to whispers, and the chilly air and cold night seemed to wrap around us both like a blanket.
“Here,” I said, immediately stripping off my jacket and wrapping it around Nina’s thin shoulders. “You’ll freeze without that, baby.”
Nina didn’t reply, just continued to gasp for several minutes, like she’d just emerged from under water.
“Lord,” she said as she sank against the now-closed door. “I just—oh, God, I just couldn’t.”
“You don’t want Jane to be a designer?” I asked, somewhat confused.
She looked up, that beautiful ferocity returned. “What? No! I already knew, actually. I only…”
Then her head drooped, full of shame. Quickly, I crossed the space between us, and tipped her chin up so she had to look at me.
“You what?” I asked quietly. “You can tell me. I won’t judge.”
She looked like she wasn’t sure about that, then exhaled again. Her breath was sweet, white in the cold December air, tinged with champagne. Suddenly I wanted to kiss her. Actually, I always wanted to kiss her.
“It was envy. And hate.” Nina shook her head. “Of that fact that she has the freedom to even do this in the first place. Aren’t those some of the seven deadly sins?”
“Just envy. But I think unless you start Single White Femaling Jane, you’re not going to hell or anything. You’re allowed to feel jealous for a minute before you feel happy.”
“I am happy for her. I love them—so much. And they deserve every bit of happiness they are getting. They’ve earned it.”
“Hate, though?” I prompted. “What’s that for, then?”
“Not them.” Nina shuddered, as if she was fighting the emotion welling up, like a volcano trying to fight its explosion. “I…oh, God, Matthew. I hate…I hate…”
She bent forward, pressing her face into her hands. “Everyone else in there. Those men—”
“Those ‘men,’ if you can call them that, were straight-up douchebags, Nina. They don’t deserve your hate. They don’t deserve anything.”
“Even so. I do. I hate them. All of them, the ones just like them. So…so much. They don’t care about Eric or Jane. They don’t care about her school or dreams or anything else but their own stupid lives, their own ridiculous reputations. I hate all of it. This world. This life.”
Nina sighed, slumping against the railing. We stood there for a moment. She shivered, and I reached out and pulled my jacket closed across her body, then kept my hands locked in place, as much for proximity as to keep her warm. Nina blinked, her eyes wet. They still hadn’t lost that haze of fury. Not completely.
God, she really was magnificent. Enough to make me forget about the cold December weather. I was happy to be here, free again to look at her.
“What about me?” I asked cautiously. “Do you hate me too, doll?”
The air around us stilled as she looked up. Our eyes locked, green to gray. It was slightly uncomfortable—there was this feeling that this woman could see straight into the depths of my sad, sorry soul.
But even so, I’d never look away from her. I couldn’t. And I no longer cared what it cost me.
“No,” she said. “I could never hate you, Matthew.”
What about love? I wanted to ask. But I held my tongue, sensing that would push her too far over an already precarious ledge.
Instead, with my grip on the jacket, I pulled her a little closer, off the rail so that our chests were only an inch or so apart.
“How about forgiveness?” I asked, searching her face for a change. “Do you forgive me yet? Maybe a little?”
She examined me for a moment, and I thought she might say no. I thought she might say she could never get past my betrayal, my refusal to believe her in her worst moment, my insistence on believing the worst when I was presented with the truth. I wasn’t sure I would ever forgive myself for that.
But if she could, I’d find a way.
But instead of answering, she did something else entirely. She stood up straight again, looked me in the eye, and kissed me.
Chapter Eight
Nina
His lips were soft, and his hands were warm. With his jacket around my shoulders, I was enveloped at last in that familiar scent that comforted me in my dreams, though never so much as when I was curled on that rotting mattress at Rosie’s.
No, I didn’t want to go there. Not like I did most nights as I tried and failed to sleep in the plush comforts of Eric and Jane’s guest room. Just as I’d let myself go, allow my mind to drift toward sleep, suddenly I’d be back in that cell, swathed in the absurdly thin blankets, scratching at bites left by bedbugs, trying not to hear the sounds of wails and jeers from the dormitory down the hall. Praying those intrusive hands wouldn’t return that night or any other.
It hadn’t been long. Fifteen days was all. But it was long enough to stick with me. I was beginning to think it always would.
I inhaled deeply, allowing the sting of the cold air to penetrate those memories, keep them at bay. Matthew’s scent flooded me instead: the heady wool of his jacket, the light cologne he preferred, the overtones of soap, ink. Perhaps a tinge of cigarette smoke too? And now champagne.
It was all delicious. Intoxicating. I wanted to taste him forever.
My skin prickled with warning. I didn’t deserve this. And I was too angry for him to deserve it either. He had already proven that he was no refuge, no port in the storm when I needed him most.
But that didn’t mean I didn’t want him to be. Because he smelled good, and he felt good, and even more than everything else, he felt like home.
Below us, the city erupted with muted shouts of sirens and car horns. There were nights, even here in Eric’s stronghold townhouse, when I felt like the darkness that threaded through the city of my birth threatened to crash through my very windows and eat me alive. I was only just now beginning to realize how fear had eroded the core of me my entire life.
And now…with him…even though I shouldn’t, I felt so, so safe.
His tongue touched mine, begged to twist together, to dive into the taste of me. I groaned as my hands grabbed that silky soft hair and yanked. A pang of desire shot between my legs, where I was suddenly and disturbingly aware there was absolutely nothing guarding me from him.
Maybe not so safe after all.
Maybe a little bit dangerous. In the best possible way.
And maybe, I rea
lized…right now…that was for the best.
For all his warmth, Matthew was really just a blazing fire. He had burned me once, and he would burn me again if I let him.
If I let him.
The choice, in the end, was mine.
Somehow, without even thinking about it, I managed to tear myself away. His heavy breathing sent feathery plumes of white into the night air while he gazed at me, taking in my dress, my legs, my heaving chest. He had spent long enough examining the lace of my dress that he was perfectly aware it wasn’t lined.
Had I chosen it precisely to see the expression on his face when he figured that out?
Perhaps.
But now, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to be viewed that way. I turned around, content to remain in his arms, but facing my back toward him so I could look out to the city and reassemble my good senses.
Just below, cars raced up and down Central Park West, one of the few thoroughfares in Manhattan with two-way traffic. It was a behemoth that stretched down to Lincoln Center, only fifteen or so blocks south, an explosion of light and color marking the beginning of Central Park’s chasm of darkness in the night.
As Matthew’s hands tightened at my waist and his lips feathered kisses up and down my neck, I gripped the railing and remembered those moments—twice—that I had run into that darkness with this man at my heels. Reckless, skittering into the park at night. But he had said he would chase me anywhere. Until, of course, he wouldn’t.
His teeth found my ear and sank down softly before the warm slip of his tongue curled around my lobe.
I shivered with desire as one of his hands cupped my breast. Brazen as always.
Though he had tried to respect my need for discretion, Matthew had never really cared where we were when it came to demonstrating his desire for me. The family’s seats at the opera, for crying out loud. He had taken some part of me wherever and whenever he wanted.
You’re no different, a small voice pointed out in the back of my mind as he found my other breast, pinching and toying with my nipples through the thin silk while he continued that delicious torture of my ear.
The Honest Affair (Rose Gold Book 3) Page 9
