by Naima Simone
“You’ll need to make the time. I need to talk with you immediately. And it’s too important to put off. I’ll meet you in the study.” He didn’t wait for her agreement, but pivoted on his heel and strode toward the rear of the house.
Bemused, she stared after him. Removing her arm from her coat sleeve, she tossed the garment over her purse and followed her brother.
“Shut the door, please,” he said, when she entered the room he considered his domain. As their father had done before him.
Trevor hadn’t changed much in the room. Except for the dark chocolate office chair that sat behind the massive oak-and-glass desk, everything else was the same. The tall bookshelves that lined two of the walls, the heavy floor-to-ceiling drapes, the two armchairs flanking the big fireplace. She’d hated being called into this room when her father had been alive; it’d meant she’d somehow screwed up. And she didn’t like it any better now with her brother.
“What’s going on, Trevor?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Another thing she hated. Feeling defensive.
“Why did I have to find out about you and Gideon Knight from Madison and her father?” he snapped, stalking around his desk. “Do you know how humiliating that was for me, receiving that phone call?”
Of course. How could she have forgotten about Madison and the senator?
Gideon, that’s how. Gideon and sex in the back seat of his car.
“I’m sorry, Trevor,” she said, truly remorseful. She’d fully intended to tell him about her and Gideon’s “relationship” when she arrived home last night, but it’d slipped her mind. “I wanted you to hear about us from me first.”
“Us?” he sneered, his hands closing on the back of the chair several feet from her. “There shouldn’t even be an us. I told you to stay away from him,” he reminded her with a narrowed glare. “Do you remember? It was when you told me you barely knew him and there was nothing going on between you two.”
“Like I told Madison last night, the fund-raiser wasn’t the place to discuss my personal life. Especially when you didn’t try to hide your hostility toward him. I’ve been seeing Gideon for a while now, but because of who we are, we decided not to make our relationship public until we knew we were serious about it.” Great. Now she was lying about her lie. “But like I also told the senator, I don’t need to run my relationships by you for permission. I did intend to give you the courtesy of telling you about Gideon last night. So again, I apologize if you were embarrassed discovering it from someone else.”
“Where’s your loyalty, Shay?” he hissed. “Your duty to family first?”
Pain struck her like a fiery dart to the breast. It spread through her until she vibrated with it. Reason whispered that he didn’t know all she sacrificed—was still sacrificing—for him. But it didn’t halt the hurt from his condemnation, his disgust.
“My loyalty is always to this family,” she whispered. “Who I’m seeing socially should have nothing to do with you or my love for you.”
“It does if you’re screwing a man I hate. Have always hated,” he snarled.
“Why?” she asked, lowering her arms and risking a step forward, closer to him. “Tell me why. Gideon told me you went to school together.”
That hadn’t been all he’d said, but even as shameful and horrible as her brother bullying him was, surely there had to be more to the story. Especially on Trevor’s end. Yes, he was a snob, but she’d never seen him actively hate someone just because they came from humble beginnings.
“Yes, we went to school together, and he didn’t know his place back then, either.”
“Didn’t know his place,” she repeated slowly, not believing that he’d uttered those ugly, bigoted words. Yes, they were fortunate enough to be in that elevated percentage of wealthy Americans. But they were still black. They still endured racists who gave them the “you’re not our kind, dear” looks when they dared enter some establishments. How dare he...
“Why? Because he’s Chinese-American?” she rasped.
“No.” He slashed a hand through the air. “I don’t give a damn about that.” The vise squeezing her chest eased a little, and relief coursed through her. “After Mom died, all I had left was Dad.”
Oh God. “Trevor,” she said, moving forward, holding a hand out toward him.
“No,” he repeated, coupling it with another hand slash. “I know you were there, but she was something different to me than to you. She was the shield, the...insulation between him and me. When she died, she left me exposed to him. To his expectations, his impossibly high standards, his disapproval. I didn’t get time to grieve for her because I had Dad riding my ass, wanting to make a real Neal man out of me without my mother’s babying. His words,” he added, his tone as caustic as acid.
“I know,” Shay murmured. “I saw how hard he was on you. But, Trevor?” She lifted her hands, palms up. “What did that have to do with Gideon? Dad didn’t know Gideon.”
“But he did,” Trevor snarled. “Who do you think funded the scholarship that enabled Gideon to attend the prep school? One of RemingtonNeal’s charities. And Dad never let me forget it. Sports, academics, even the damn debate team—Gideon and I were always head-to-head in everything, and when he beat me, Dad was always right there to remind me that a poor scholarship kid was better than me. That maybe he should hire him to run the family company because he was smarter, stronger, quicker, more clever. He constantly compared us, and it didn’t end with high school, but continued in college and beyond, even following Gideon’s career after he graduated. The one thing I’m grateful for is that he’s not alive today to see you with him. He probably would claim him as his son, give him RemingtonNeal.”
Shock pummeled her. She’d had no clue. But now his animosity toward Gideon made sense, because she knew her father. Knew how denigrating and belittling and cruel he could be. Especially toward Trevor. Lincoln Neal probably didn’t even like Gideon, but using him as an emotional weapon against his son sounded like something he would do.
And Trevor... God, if her brother didn’t let go of his bitterness, he would live trying to prove to their dead father that he was better than a man he might have counted as a friend once upon a time.
“Do you understand why you can’t be with him, Shay? That man has been the source of my pain and unhappiness for over a decade. I won’t allow him in my home or to eat at my table, much less date my sister.” He shook his head. “End it.”
I can’t.
The words bounced off her skull, pounded in her chest. To call off her relationship with Gideon would be to destroy her brother. But even in an alternate universe where she and Gideon had met under normal circumstances without blackmail and revenge, she still wouldn’t have broken up with him based on what her brother had shared. Trevor’s antagonism for Gideon wasn’t his fault—it was their father’s. But with Lincoln Neal gone, Trevor had transferred all his resentment and pain to the one who was still alive.
“No, I won’t end it with Gideon,” she said. Sighing, she moved across the small distance separating them and covered his hand. “Trevor, I—”
He jerked away from her, taking several steps back and glaring at her. A muscle ticked along his clenched jaw. “You won’t break this thing off with him?”
“No, Trevor, I won’t.” I’m doing this for you, she silently screamed. But the words remained trapped in her throat.
“I didn’t want to do this, but you’ve left me with no other choice. Leida Investments, Shay.”
For the second time in the space of minutes, shock robbed her of speech. Icy fingers of astonishment and dread trailed down her spine.
Trevor cocked his head to the side. “You believed I didn’t know about your little company all this time? Nothing gets by me. And as long as you were discreet, I didn’t see the harm in letting you dabble in business. It didn’t interfere with your responsibilities to this
family. But now, your actions are jeopardizing us. If you don’t end it with Gideon, I’ll ruin every business that has received money from you. And with my name and reputation, you know I could do it with just a whisper. Now, while you take some time to make your decision about who you’re giving your loyalty to, I’m going to insist you step back from your job at RemingtonNeal. I’ve already asked Madison to take over some of your duties for the next few weeks. Consider it a leave of absence while you choose between a man you barely know and your family.”
With that parting shot, he exited the room, not pausing to spare her a glance. Not even bothering to glimpse the devastation he’d left behind.
Not only had he dismissed her easily, replacing her with his fiancée, but he’d threatened her company, as well as the hard work and livelihoods of those she’d invested in.
He would cavalierly ruin others’ lives to bring her to heel.
Forcing her feet to move, she left the study and retraced her steps to her room. There, she removed her suit and went to her closet for her suitcases. Forty minutes later, she once more descended the stairs, not knowing when she would return.
She couldn’t stay here any longer.
Not when she wasn’t sure who she was selling her soul to protect.
Fourteen
Gideon pulled up in front of the small brick house in the Humboldt Park neighborhood. With its white trim, meticulously manicured front lawn and currently empty flower boxes, the home was cute and obviously well taken care of.
But Shay still had no business being here.
Not when she had a home.
So why had she sent him a text informing him he’d need to pick her up here tonight, as she would be living in this place for the foreseeable future?
What the hell was going on?
The questions had burned in his head, then twisted his gut into knots. The need for answers had propelled him out of his mother’s house, where he’d been visiting her and Olivia. He hadn’t bothered replying to Shay’s text but had entered the address in his GPS and driven directly there.
He shut off his car and walked up the tidy sidewalk to the postage-stamp-size porch. Maybe she’d heard him arrive, because before he could knock on the storm door, Shay appeared in the entrance, wrapped in a cashmere shawl and evening gown. She joined him on the porch, scanning his attire, her gaze running over his peacoat, down his black jeans to his boots, then back up.
“You’re going to the ballet dressed like that?” she asked, frowning.
“No,” he answered shortly. “Come on.”
He’d offered her his hand before considering the gesture. They weren’t in public, so the display of affection wasn’t necessary. But when she wrapped her fingers around his, he only tightened his hold. And didn’t think about why he did it.
Moments later, with her safe in the passenger’s seat, the full skirt of her gown tucked around her legs, he started the car and drove away.
“What’s going on, Shay?” he asked. “Whose house is that?”
“My best friend, Bridgette. You met her that day in the food truck,” she replied, keeping her gaze straight ahead.
Impatient, Gideon pressed, “And? Why are you staying with her—how did you put it—for the foreseeable future?”
She sighed, and he steeled himself against the punch of that tired sound. “Because I left home. And I don’t know when, or if, I’ll return.”
Surprise winged through him, and quick on its heels was fury. Cold, bright fury. “Did you leave or did Trevor kick you out?”
Another sigh, and when he glanced over at her she shook her head. “I left. We...had a disagreement, and I thought it best if I gave us both space.”
“You’re trying to make me drag it out of you, aren’t you?” he growled.
“I’m not trying to make you do anything,” she said, every inch of the society princess in that reply. “What’s more, I don’t want you to.”
His fingers curled around the steering wheel, his hold so tight the leather creaked. Part of him longed to jerk the car over three lanes to the side of the road and demand she confess everything to him, because he knew there was more to the story. And from those sighs and the tension in her slender frame, he sensed the “disagreement” with Trevor hadn’t been pretty. It’d hurt her. And for that Gideon wished he could strangle the man.
But the other part... That part longed to pull over, too, but for a different reason. It wanted to park, release her seat belt and tug her onto his lap so he could hold her. Comfort her. Murmur into her ear that everything would be all right, that she would be all right.
Which was ridiculous. If there was a woman who didn’t need comforting—didn’t need him—it was Shay Neal.
Quiet settled in the car like a third passenger as he drove to his home. It wasn’t until he pulled into the underground parking garage that she stirred.
“I can wait here or in the lobby while you change if you’re not going to be long. The ballet starts in about thirty minutes,” she said, straightening in the passenger’s seat.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped, her obvious reluctance to be alone with him irritating him. Did she expect him to jump her? “I promise to keep my hands and dick to myself. Now can you please get out of the damn car?”
He didn’t wait for her answer, but shoved the door open. But he still caught her grumbled, “Speaking of dicks...”
In spite of the anger and frustration churning in his chest, he couldn’t suppress the quirk of his mouth. This woman gave as good as she got.
Minutes later, they entered his penthouse, and as he took her wrap to hang up, lust joined the cluster of emotions he was feeling. While the champagne-colored skirt of her dress flowed around her legs, the top clung to her shoulders, arms and torso—except for the deep V that dipped between her breasts and even lower in back. He briefly closed his eyes, turning away from the alluring sight of her. Immediately, images of the night in his Town Car skated over the back of his lids like a movie trailer. Him, cupping those breasts, drawing them into his mouth...
Cursing under his breath, he jerked open the closet door and, with more force than necessary, hung up her shawl and his coat.
How could she flaunt sex and sophistication at the same time?
“Would you like a glass of wine? Scotch?” he asked, stalking into the living room and toward the bar.
“Do we have time for that? If you don’t hurry and dress, we’re going to be late,” she reminded him, following him, but halting on the top of the steps that led into the living room.
He removed the top of a crystal decanter and poured himself a finger of bourbon. Only after he’d downed a sip did he turn and face her. Staring at her golden skin and the inner curves of her breasts, he took another. He needed the fortification.
“We’re not going to the ballet,” he informed her.
She frowned. “What? Why not?” She stepped down into the room. “And why didn’t you tell me you changed your mind at Bridgette’s house?”
“Why?” he repeated, lifting the tumbler to his lips and staring at her over the rim as he sipped. “Because even though you won’t admit it, you’re hurting. Something more than a ‘disagreement’ had to have occurred to make you leave the only family you have left, as well as the only home you’ve known. I’m a self-confessed asshole, Shay, but even I wouldn’t make you attend a social event and fake a happiness you’re far from feeling. Especially when your brother might be in attendance.” He swirled the amber liquor in his glass and arched an eyebrow. “And as for why I didn’t tell you when I picked you up, that’s simple. You wouldn’t have come with me if I had. The last thing you need right now is to be alone. And since I know your friend supplements her food truck income with a part-time job, you would’ve been very much alone tonight. So that leaves me.”
Her frown deepened. “It’s a lit
tle creepy how you know so much about me and everyone I’m close to.”
He shrugged, taking another taste of the bourbon. “Before going into battle, it’s wise to be prepared and know everything you can about your enemy.”
“Enemy,” she breathed, then scoffed. “You just proved my point. We’re not friends—far from it. So why do you care how I spend my night? I’m not your responsibility,” she said softly.
“No,” he agreed just as softly. “We’re not friends. But can we call a truce and resume hostilities tomorrow?” He risked drawing nearer to her. “You’re right, you’re not my responsibility. But I am responsible. The argument was about me, wasn’t it?” When she didn’t reply, he gently pressed, “Shay?”
“Yes,” she reluctantly admitted.
“Let me guess,” he said, his anger rekindling. “Trevor wanted you to break it off with me and you refused.”
“Correct again.” She notched her chin up at a defiant angle, but he caught the slight tremble of her bottom lip. “But if I’d given in to his demand, then it would’ve meant destroying everything he cares about, destroying him. Still, it’s not like I could share that with him. Instead, he threatened to dismantle my company, starting with ruining all the businesses I’ve invested in. Oh, and he fired me—or placed me on a temporary leave of absence. So those are my choices. End our relationship and destroy everything my brother loves. Or continue upholding our bargain and lose the company I love.”
Fury blasted through him, and for a moment a red haze dropped over his vision. Trevor had threatened his own sister? Gideon grasped the tumbler so tightly the beveled edges dug into his flesh. He pictured that thick, brown file in his office safe, and had no regrets about his intentions to expose Trevor. A man like him deserved the hell Gideon planned to rain down on him.
“I won’t let him do that,” Gideon promised. Soon enough her brother would be too busy trying to pick up the flaming pieces of his life to worry about harming her company.
