The Shacking Up Series

by Helena Hunting

  “Is there a threat behind that? What exactly are you going to do if I don’t?”

  “Don’t you think it’s time to let it go? You’re not winning this one, Armstrong. She’s not a trophy for you to put in a case. You’ve screwed with her enough.”

  “What about you, Lex? Are you screwing with her?” His grin is calculated. “Always picking up my sloppy seconds. I find it fascinating how much you love to put your dick where mine’s already been, don’t you?”

  “You fucker.” I take a step forward, ready to break his damn nose again.

  He holds up a hand. “Think about how bad it would look if you attacked me, again, and for no apparent reason. I’m just here to support my cousin and his fiancée. It would be a pity if you ruined their night by making a scene, as you so often do.”

  “Do you ever get tired of being an asshole?”

  He laughs again, leaning against the wall. “You act like you haven’t been one, too. I understand why you hate me, Lex. I keep taking the things you want, and there’s really nothing you can do about it. Jealousy and envy are hard emotions to control, and yours is really quite reasonable considering the number of times I’ve fucked you, or maybe fucked what you thought was yours is a better way to put it.”

  I know he wants me to lose it and he’s pushing buttons to make that happen. “She’s not yours anymore, though, is she?”

  “On paper she is. Do you have any idea how satisfying it was when I stole her right out from under you?”

  “Stole, but lost.”

  “So you say, but I’m still married to Amalie. I made her mine. Nothing you do or say is going to change that. Unless I sign those papers, we’re still legally married.” He waves his hand around in the air. “You can’t win this one, Lex, no matter how hard you try.”

  “Are you even hearing me? It’s not about winning. It’s not a game. She’s not your toy. She’s not something you get to play with until she breaks.”

  “She is rather fun to play with, though.” He leans in close and lowers his voice, his smile full of malice. “That mouth of hers, so hard to tame, but so pretty when it’s full of cock, isn’t it?”

  I hate that he knows her body, but I take solace in the fact that there’s no way he knows it half as well as I do. “You think you know Amie, but you don’t. Not even a little, which is ironic considering you’re married to her and all.”

  “You think you know something I don’t?”

  I laugh at his annoyance. “You know what I’m better at than you, Armstrong? Pretty much everything. I’m an especially good listener, and I definitely don’t have the performance issues you seem to.”

  He takes another step closer, voice low and angry. “Did you fuck my wife?”

  “Did you know that she faked every single orgasm with you?” I’m pushing the line and stretching the truth, based on the things Amie confided in me. “You don’t even know what she sounds like when she comes. That’s pretty fucking sad, Armstrong, don’t you think? Especially since she’s your wife and all.”

  “Answer the question, Lexington. Did you fuck her?” He clenches his fists, as if he’s considering punching me.

  “Did you know that she packed an entire suitcase of sex toys? It’s quite an extensive collection. Looks like maybe you didn’t tame her nearly as well as you think you did.” I need to shut up. I don’t know enough about the prenup Amie signed to be certain I won’t make a mess of things if I imply anything else—well, more of a mess than I may have already with the Bane conversation earlier—but my mouth is working faster than my brain and Armstrong brings out the very worst side of me. “It’s unfortunate you’re too insecure to enjoy her the way you could’ve.”

  His jaw ticks, eyes narrowed. “But you did? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “You have no idea what you gave up. You might’ve had her, but you’re not getting her back. Not ever.” I need to stop talking. I know better than anyone the results of provoking Armstrong.

  A malignant sneer distorts his face. “And you think she won’t be done with you when she finds out you’re only fucking her to even the score?”

  That he still thinks this is about some kind of long-sought-after vengeance is mind-boggling. “You don’t even know the half of it. I did a hell of a lot more than even the score. You’re not even in the race anymore.”

  His smile is triumphantly vicious as his gaze moves over my shoulder. “Is that right? I’d love to hear more about that.”

  “So would I.” I find Amie standing behind us with her arms crossed over her chest. I have to wonder how long she’s been there and how much she heard.

  I take a step toward her. “You should come with me, Amie.”

  She takes several steps back, putting distance between us. I’m familiar with her expression, and it’s not one I’m happy to be involved in causing. “Don’t.”

  It’s not the response I want, particularly because it tells me what kind of damage Armstrong has done with one conversation. I move in closer, lowering my voice. “I don’t know what he said to you, but whatever it is, it’s not true, Amie. He said it just to hurt you and get back at me.”

  Her anger is etched through with sadness. She’s on the verge of tears. “Which part isn’t true? The part about evening the score, or maybe it was about how he failed to tame me. Or is it the insinuation that somehow you did?”

  “Someone wanna tell me what the fuck is going on here?” Bancroft’s deep, loud voice drowns out the rest of my plea.

  Amie’s relief is a slap in the face.

  “What’re you doing here?” Bane directs the question at Armstrong.

  His annoyed sneer is replaced by a fake, friendly smile as he turns to Bancroft. “I came to congratulate you on your engagement.”

  Bane looks at him as if he’s lost his mind. “You weren’t invited, Armstrong, and the reason for that is standing right there.”

  Armstrong glances at Amie, as if he’s just noticing her presence. “Amalie and I are working things out.”

  Amie snorts derisively. “On a cold day in hell.”

  “I seriously doubt that, unless you’re blackmailing her somehow, which really wouldn’t surprise me.” Bane glances at Amie. “You okay?”

  She gives him a curt nod and a tight smile. “Fine.”

  I’ve never hated that word more than I do right now.

  “Why don’t you go back into the ballroom? Ruby’s been forced onto the dance floor with my grandfather and she might need some saving, or he might. It’s hard to tell.”

  “Of course.” She squares her shoulders and gives both Armstrong and me a wide berth as she skirts us. “Thank you,” she murmurs, squeezing Bancroft’s arm as she passes.

  When I try to follow her, he puts out a hand to stop me. “I don’t think so.”

  Bane might be younger than me, but he’s still bigger, stronger, and faster. And in this case, he might have a right to keep me away from her.

  “Someone want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Your brother is fucking my wife,” Armstrong says, rather loudly.

  Thankfully there aren’t very many people out here, and the chatter and music from the ballroom filters into the foyer with the opening of the door.

  Bane’s lip curls and he claps a palm on the back of Armstrong’s neck, holding tight and getting in close. “You might want to keep your voice down, unless you’d like your nose broken again. I promise, cousin, no amount of surgery will make your face pretty again when I’m done with you.”

  Bane keeps the pressure on as he moves Armstrong around the corner. I follow, partly because I don’t want to miss it should Bane lay out Armstrong, and partly because, now that I have reinforcements and some privacy, I can say a few of the things I want to.

  “Listen to me.” Bane drops his hand but gets right up in Armstrong’s face. “You’re ruining my engagement party because you can’t let shit go. I get that it’s hard for you to grasp that the world doesn’t revolve around you, b
ut this isn’t the time or the place to air your grievances, or plead your case with Amie.”

  “I can’t get to her any other way. Everyone has made it impossible otherwise.”

  “And why do you think that is, Armstrong?”

  He peeks out from behind Bane. “Fuck you, Lexington. You can’t have what’s mine.”

  “Can I just punch him?” I look to my brother who’s wearing an incredulous expression, before I turn my attention back to Armstrong. “Amie is not a possession. I don’t understand how you don’t get that. You destroyed what you had. No one is responsible for that but you. You ruined her and I put her back together.”

  “Isn’t that convenient for you, always playing the hero like you do. Not anymore, though, not now that she knows you were just after her because of me.” He’s back to looking smug.

  Bancroft shakes his head and rolls his shoulders. He’s been pushed to his limits. Frankly so have I. “I’m very close to knocking you out if you don’t shut up. Your history with Lex is not a reason to torture Amie. She’s been through enough. You humiliated her and you continue to torment her by refusing to sign the annulment papers. You’re dragging your family’s name through the dirt by acting like this. As much as you’d like to think your family controls the media, people talk. Your competition hired her for Christ’s sake. Now I’m going to escort you to the elevators and one of the security guards is going to make sure you get in a car. If you come back, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

  When I make a move to go with them, Bane points a finger at me. “You stay here and don’t move.”

  Normally I wouldn’t be inclined to take orders from my little brother, but in this case I think it’s imperative that I do.

  He’s back less than a minute later. “How long?”

  I don’t need to ask him what he’s referring to. “A while.”

  “Be more specific. What’s a while? A week? A month? Longer?”

  Shit. I don’t want to come clean about this right now, not before I can talk to Amie. “It’s been months.”

  Bane’s eyes go wide and his hands curl into fists. “What?”

  “It’s not what you think.” I should expect the punch, but I’m not prepared for it. I double over, clutching my gut. I cough a few times and try not to throw up the scotch or my dinner. It hurts a lot more than it did when we were kids.

  “Were you with her this afternoon?”

  I’m still trying to catch my breath, so I nod.

  “You fuckhead.” He grabs me by the lapels and hoists me up so we’re eye to eye. “What were you thinking? Of all the women you could screw, why her? Why my fiancée’s best friend? Why Armstrong’s goddamn wife? Do you have any idea how bad this looks, especially with your history with Armstrong? Does she even know about that? I told you to keep an eye on her, I fucking told you to watch yourself, and did you listen? Of course not.”

  He shoves me and I stumble back into the wall. It looks like he’s thinking about hitting me again. When we were kids we used to wrestle a lot. Until we were teenagers I always won. Then Bancroft hit a growth spurt and I started losing, every damn time. He cocks a fist, possibly to break my nose, so I blurt, “I’m in love with her.”

  His frowns and hesitates.

  “I love her,” I repeat.

  “You better not be saying that just to avoid getting punched in the face.”

  I shake my head and bend at the waist, bracing my hands on my knees. Bane has a mean right hook. “I mean it. I’m in love with her.”

  He stares at me for a few very long seconds, then runs his hand through his hair. It’s not a great move, since it’s curly and has product in it keep it from getting out of control, which it now is. “You’re serious.” He’s definitely stunned.

  “Yeah. It’s pretty bad. I’m kinda fucked right now.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “You mean the feelings part?”

  “The whole thing.”

  “You have to promise not to punch me again.”

  Bane gives me a look. “Did this start in Bora Bora?”

  At my nod Bane flexes his hands and releases a slow breath. “You’ve been hiding this the entire time?”

  “No. Well, yes. It wasn’t supposed to be anything beyond just hooking up when we were there, because we knew it wasn’t a good idea, but then you got engaged and things just . . . happened. And then we kept it quiet because Armstrong wouldn’t sign the annulment papers.”

  Bane rubs the back of his neck. “Couldn’t have picked a more complicated person to fall for?”

  I shrug. “We both know I don’t like doing things the easy way.”

  “Isn’t that the truth?”

  “Armstrong has done a pretty good job of screwing things up for me, as he does.”

  Bane puts a heavy hand on my shoulder. “You’ve fixed worse.”

  I don’t know if he’s right. I don’t know if there is worse than this.

  * * *

  Not long after Bane and I return to the hall we’re called on by Mimi, who thanks us for our help in organizing the party. Amie’s gracious and well spoken, turning her smile on me as she tells the attendees how she couldn’t have done it without my help. Her anger simmers just under the surface, though. I want an opportunity to make that emotion disappear. But I don’t get a chance to talk to her before she leaves the stage and moves through the crowd of guests. By the time I’m finished saying good night to everyone I can’t find her anywhere.

  I sneak out of the ballroom and head for the elevators that will take me to the penthouse floor, pulling up her contact on the way. I’m unsurprised when it goes to voicemail. “Amie, baby, I know you probably have some questions. A lot of questions, and that’s understandable. I just want you to give me a chance to answer them, so please when you get this message call me back.”

  I hit end and tap restlessly on the handrail. This elevator is taking forever. When I reach the penthouse floor I bypass my room and knock on her door. I get no response. What if she went somewhere other than her room? Would she go to the lobby bar? I don’t think so, but it’s possible that she’s planning to run, as she sometimes does.

  I go to my own room, debating my options in this situation. I should’ve been prepared for this eventuality, but our bubble of secrecy made me feel falsely protected even if I wanted it to disappear.

  I cross over to the door connecting our rooms and knock quietly, but get no response. I call her again, put my ear to the door and listen, pressing the phone against my thigh to muffle the ringing on my end. I catch the faint sound of her phone through the steel barrier and hear a muffled thump, followed by Amie swearing.

  “Amie, baby, can you open the door for me, please? I just want to talk. Can we do that? You know how Armstrong is, how he twists things around. He’s a liar and a manipulator. I’ll answer any questions you have if you just open the door. I’ll explain so it makes sense.”

  The silence stretches out, vast and empty.

  “Let me try and make it better, Amie, please.”

  A muted click has me rushing to my door and throwing it open just as Amie attempts to sneak past with her suitcase. I step out into the hall, blocking her way. “You’re really going to run away without giving me a chance to explain?”

  “What’re you going to explain, Lex? How you were getting back at Armstrong for stealing the toy you saw first? How amazing it must’ve felt to steal it back and play with it? I trusted you. How far were you going to take this?”

  “You only heard part of the conversation and it was taken out of context. Amie, please come in and talk to me. You know me better than this.”

  “I thought I did. I don’t know who to trust.” She closes her eyes and tears track down her cheeks. “I just keep making these bad decisions and I didn’t want you to be one of them.”

  “I promise I’m not.”

  “Then why does it feel like I’m part of some pissing contest?”

  “Look, I should�
��ve told you about my history with Armstrong and how bad things got when we were kids. Eventually I just backed down and let him have what he wanted because he treats people the same way he treats everything else, with complete disregard. But after what happened at the wedding I was done letting him have things he didn’t deserve. But I promise, Amie, it was never about getting him back. Not for me. I never planned to rub it in his face like he rubbed you in mine.”

  I touch her arm and she jerks away. “Don’t.”

  “I’m sorry. I only want to talk, Amalie. I won’t touch you again if you don’t want me to.” I motion inside my room.

  She sighs and crosses the threshold. I hope my words are going to be enough to keep her from running again.

  Twenty-Five: Believe Me

  Amie

  I feel broken. Shattered might be a better word.

  As I stand in the middle of Lex’s room, I acknowledge for a moment that so much of this is my fault. This position I find myself in is my own doing. I’ve created this situation, maybe not consciously, but I’m still the one who should be held responsible for my emotional state.

  I hate that Armstrong still has the ability to make me question myself and the people I trust.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Lex asks softly.

  I think I’m even in love with his voice.

  “Please.” It’s more whisper than word.

  “Do you have any preference? I have sparkling water and orange juice.”

  I close my eyes against the razorblade edge of pain that simple offering brings. Because Lex knows what my favorite things are. He knows the exact ratio of orange juice to sparkling water I like. He pays attention to the small details. The little things are what made me fall. I want him to fall with me. I don’t want to be alone in this love.

  “That would be perfect, thank you.”

  “Why don’t you have a seat?” He gestures to the couch.

  My legs carry me weakly across the soft carpet and I drop down on the plush red velvet. Hours ago I’d considered how I’d planned to change into sexy lingerie and make good use of this particular piece of furniture. Now I’m sitting here, watching my life fall apart all over again, and the only constant is Lex and my bad decisions. I don’t want them to be one and the same.