Redheaded Redemption (Redheads Book 2)

by Rebecca Royce

  “Ah, yes. I’m sure you are.” He shook his head. “But your tone tells me that you have multiple feelings about it.”

  I startled, turning to look at him. “Am I that easy to read?”

  “Little bit.” He took my hand. “But enough about your guards. They hate me. The looks they shoot me? I get what they see. You’re young, gorgeous. They think I’m some lecherous bastard bothering you.”

  I laughed, which surprised me. “Because you’re ancient?”

  “Right. Well, next to you I am, Hope. I’m going to be forty on my next birthday.”

  That was kind of what I’d thought when I’d tried to guess in my head. “Which is when? How many months are you from this date that will make you, in your mind, geriatric?”

  His grin was worth the joke. “Ten months.”

  “Well, there you go. I don’t think that’s why they don’t like you. They were there when you threw me out of the restaurant.”

  He tilted his head. “Well, that’ll do it.”

  “Hey, maybe it makes sense to go to my gym. We’re on my side of town now. Come with me to mine. It’s closer.”

  “Sure.” He nodded to the building as we pulled up. “This your place?”

  “It is.”

  When he moved to open the door, I stopped him. “No, they have to open it.”

  He shook his head fast. “Not for me. They can stand in front of you and let you out, but I’m not going to sit here while they rush around opening doors for me. I’ll never be able to show my face at home again. Besides, nothing is going to happen to you when I’m around. I’m not without my own skills, I assure you of that.”

  I opened and closed my mouth. What was I supposed to say to that? Max jumped out, but Theo helped me the way he usually did, and I met up with Max on the sidewalk. “Wouldn’t want to undermine your male ego.”

  He laughed, throwing his head back. “Fair enough, Hope. Call me on my bullshit, but it’s mine and I’ll own it.”

  “Come on.” I walked inside, nodding to the doorman. I had a list of people who were allowed up—my security team and my sisters. I’d added Zeke. Not that he’d ever been to my apartment, nor did I expect him to come. Layla wouldn’t either, most likely. They were going to stay in their vineyard and raise their family. I was sure Noah wouldn’t be their last baby.

  We took the elevator to my apartment, and I let us in. I’d no sooner closed the door than the need hit me. I hadn’t thought about it, but bringing him into my apartment meant that I was going to have to deal with my need to lock my own door over and over again in front of him.

  “Wow. That’s a view.” He walked to my window, and I tried to breathe. It wasn’t going to work, but I tried.

  When I had to lock and lock again and again, it was as though my brain simply couldn’t move on until I did. I rushed to the lock. I had to. I just had to. I clicked the lock. Again. And then again. Four times. And then I swung around. He’d turned to look at me, but he didn’t say anything.

  I’ll just pretend nothing happened. “Give me two seconds to change.”

  Max nodded. “Sure.”

  By the time I’d gotten to my closet, I had to wipe at my tears. This is over now. I never showed anyone my need to lock. I’d thought about showing Layla, even invited her to stay with me so that we could be open about it, but she had gone to Washington instead. I got it. Layla had more than earned her life.

  But the first person to see it was Max, who would probably not be out there when I got back from changing. I threw my clothes on and put on my happy face. I was good at this—cry, then fake that I hadn’t. I’d been doing it my whole life. I splashed water on my face, threw on my yoga pants, and my tank top that made a witty remark about day drinking, and headed back out.

  Max stood staring at September. “I can’t decide if I should be sad or not looking at this painting.”

  He’d read it correctly, and he was still there, which said something. “I’m sure she meant it to be.

  “You know the painter?”

  “It was my mother’s. She’s dead.”

  I had to unlock the door I’d just exposed myself locking. This is a terrible idea.

  Chapter 7

  My gym was always a who’s who of the Upper East Side. I couldn’t speak for the other neighborhoods of town, but I knew there was one just like it on the Upper West that did nearly the same things. I supposed I should know the names of all the gyms. Maybe I could drum up more people to invite to my gatherings. I had to think like this all the time.

  I ran as hard as I could on the treadmill, which wasn’t a particularly impressive feat. I wasn’t an athlete. Since college, it seemed like everyone I knew had become a runner, including my sister. But the more I tried, the more I hated it. I wasn’t going to be running 5ks, let alone marathons. I was not an athlete, and this wasn’t pretty.

  In the meantime, I ignored the fact that I was there with Max. He ran on the treadmill next to me, ear buds in his ears, and he didn’t even seem out of breath, despite the fact that he ran twice as fast as me. It was pathetic really how bad at this I was.

  I had another minute in me, and then I was going to have to call it a day. The lack of sleep wasn’t helping either. I had too much to do to be so exhausted. I might break a rule and take a pill to put away the not sleeping problem for one night. I didn’t like how I felt afterward, though. Being so deeply asleep, I was out of control worried me too. Of course, that was ridiculous. I lived in a building with a doorman and had the added benefit of security, who sat outside the building the whole time. No one was getting in my apartment. I could take a pill and be fine.

  But my anxiety wasn’t reasonable and never had been.

  I could never bring myself to do it.

  Of course, none of that had anything to do with the fact that my mother took too many pills and never woke up again. Nothing the fuck to do with my fears at all.

  I stopped the treadmill. Another problem with running—I thought about too many things when I did run. I grabbed a towel and wiped my face before I headed to the mats where I’d do my sit ups, stretches, and lift some weights. Then I’d be done. I wasn’t going to join a class or breathe through some yoga. I had this much in me and no more.

  That was when I spotted her. My heart clenched, and I almost fled for the locker room, except that would be a lot worse than just hoping she didn’t spot me.

  Amanda Hill, gossip vlogger extraordinaire. She plagued my family. Luckily, she cared a lot less about me than she did about Layla. The woman had searched for Layla for the past year. My sister’s location wasn’t secret, but there was no way for her to catch her on video at their vineyard in Washington. For the moment, anyway, she and my nephew were hidden from the world, just like Layla wanted it. Amanda didn’t even know that Noah existed, and I intended to make sure she didn’t find out.

  If Amanda didn’t find me as interesting as Layla, she hated Bridget. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t plan to ask.

  I didn’t want to talk to Amanda Hill at all.

  Max sat down next to me, stretching out his hands over his head. He winked at me, seemingly totally unaware the movement revealed the bottom half of his abs or that they were drool worthy, even in a room filled with people who could claim that title for themselves.

  “This place is a lot fancier than mine. I feel like everyone is staring at each other.”

  I nodded and gave a little wave to an heiress who walked past. “They are, and it can be very helpful to me.”

  “Must be exhausting, yet you can’t sleep.”

  That was the last thing I wanted to talk about. A thought dawned on me, and I almost didn’t say it, but he had the right to know. “That woman over there with the long brown hair and the gray eyes? Pretty face. She’s talking with her hands right now to the tall guy with the red shirt, do you see her?”

  He blinked and then looked over at Amanda. “What about her?”

  “She’s a gossip vlogger.”

&nb
sp; Max shook his head. “And she just gets to…walk around here, into a room full of all the people she might want to talk about, and everyone acts like it’s just fine?”

  I smiled at him. “Sure. We all make nice. Thing is, if you wanted to pay me back—if you wanted to do to me what I did to you—then you could tell her something about me right now. You could ruin me if you want to. She is the one with the video who showed it to everyone. It’s her most watched stream to date. She could do it again, this time on your behalf.”

  He dropped his arms from the stretch. “So you live in a world where you work out with people who talk badly about you publicly, and now someone you spent the night with might decide just hours later to destroy your life?”

  I waited a second before I answered, because I had to consider what to say. He seemed to have missed my point entirely. “I guess I do.”

  “That is really fucked up.” He shook his head. “Somehow also not surprising, but you aren’t like that, so why do you do this? I’d also like to know why you said it in the first place, but I know you’re not going to answer me. You’ll evade it. That’s fine. I just wonder, that’s all.” He pointed at me. “Your eyes are brighter right now. I think you’re feeling endorphins.”

  Was I? I didn’t know, but I certainly did feel awake. That was nice for a change. “Are you? Feeling the good vibrations from exercise?”

  He shook his head. “Takes a lot more exercise to bring on an endorphin rush for me. This wasn’t my normal routine. This was more like…a jaunt at the gym.”

  I snorted and then covered my face with my hand like I could muffle the sound. “Did you just say a jaunt at the gym?”

  “I did.” His smile was huge as I dropped my hand. “Hope…”

  “Oh my god, it’s you!”

  We’d been spotted. Amanda stood staring down at us like we were peasants at her feet—not the ideal way to be found by the gossip vlogger. Then again, I was the least interesting person in the gym at the moment, so I hadn’t really expected her to focus on me.

  I smiled because that was what I always did. What every good little socialite did. And that was how I made my living. “Amanda! Hello there. It’s been a while since I saw you.”

  Her smile was cold, calculating. Mean. If she didn’t have legs, she’d slither on the ground like a snake. All she needed was a forked tongue and…

  “I’ve been looking for you. Coming at various times to try to find you. I guessed you hadn’t been working out.” She looked me up and down. “I think I was right. Look at you, winded like you climbed Everest.” She had an affectation where she put on a lisp. It was always present during her videos, but not so much when normally speaking. Why did she do that? Sometimes I couldn’t figure people out.

  I waved my hand. “I didn’t see you on the treadmill. You’re not sweating at all. Just getting started or are you some marvel that never sweats? It’s supposed to be a good detoxing system.”

  Max rubbed my back, a light stroke. I didn’t know his intent, but the effect was to remind me I should watch my tone.

  She laughed. “Just getting started, but I run every day. I sweat. I love it.” She lifted an eyebrow. “I have to admit I’ve been very concerned about Layla. She and I are such good friends.” Oh boy, were they not friends. She knew it. I knew it. Anyone who watched her vlog knew it. “Where is she?”

  Layla wasn’t hiding from anyone. Not really. Her husband owned a vineyard, and the family lived on the property. They were eventually going to start selling wine. A real journalist could find her in under two minutes. Bill of sale. Companies registered legally—because Zeke was big on doing things by the book—in the United States. They’d get an address. If they could get past her security, they’d be able to ring her fucking doorbell and see Layla face-to-face.

  Someday, they might even open a tasting room. Layla and I discussed decorating space for tastings together the last time I visited her.

  The piece of shit in front of me made me madder than she usually did—probably because I was so tired—because she couldn’t be bothered to do that kind of work. No, all she could do was take photos and videos or buy them while she picked apart Layla’s life and said terrible things. She didn’t know Layla married Zeke, so it might be a while before she figured out she had a new last name. And thank the universe, she didn’t know about Noah.

  I got to my feet, and Max rose next to me. “Layla is happy and well.”

  “I’d love to say hello.”

  I was done. If I’d had anything in my hands, I might have thrown it at her. Maybe it was a good thing the gym made us lock up our stuff in lockers when we came in. “If Layla wanted you to find her, she’d let you. Otherwise, I suggest you get some kind of life that doesn’t involve destroying others and leave my sister the fuck alone.”

  The gym had gone completely silent. Yes, I’d just told off a woman who formed public opinion. She was a tastemaker, an influencer on Instagram. Like me, she was the kind of person who could squash me like a bug, if she wanted. Despite all that, she knew my sister didn’t want her to find her, yet had the audacity to ask me anyway. We owed her nothing.

  “Here’s some advice, move on from Layla. She’s off limits to you. Find something new to talk about. Surely you must have enough brain cells to find someone easier to chase.”

  Her smirk told me all I needed to know. I’d walked right into that one. Damnit. I knew better. What was the matter with me?

  Tears threatened, but I held them back. Nope. It wasn’t time for the great Hope freak-out. Not yet.

  “Where is she?”

  I pointed at her. “Off your radar.”

  Next to me, Max shifted his weight. Oh no. He was going to say something. I couldn’t let him do that. I’d ruined his life once before, and I wouldn’t do it again. I swung around to stare at him. “And you. It’s bad enough that you threw me out of the best restaurant in town.” Amanda would already know that. “You have to yell at me here?”

  I threw him a look over my shoulder and hustled to the locker room. Hopefully, she’d think he wasn’t involved with me and not take him down because he had the bad luck to be seated next to me on a mat at the gym. I pressed my back against the wall and tried to breathe for a second before I put on my clothes. I was sweaty and a mess. Although I needed a shower, I wanted out of this gym.

  I needed to get home and start thinking about the rest of my day. I had an event that night. What was I doing? I had no business spending all this time with this man, anyway. I couldn’t even have sex. What kind of total idiot couldn’t do that? I grabbed my bag and hustled myself outside, where I immediately collided into Max.

  He grabbed me. “Whoa, there. Don’t hurt yourself. What was that? Are you okay?”

  I wiped at my face. I was still managing not to cry. That was a small miracle. “I didn’t want Amanda to come after you.”

  “I got that. She flirted with me for half a second and moved on. She tells me she’s eaten there. But she moved on after she got what she wanted from you. Wow. She really pushed your buttons. Are you okay?”

  I nodded. “I’m fine. I just need to go.”

  “Okay, let’s go. Come on.” He took my hand. “And I’m proud of how you stood up for your sister.”

  I shook my head. “It’s the least I could do. I left her in Paris once with no money and entirely on her own.”

  “Why?” He waved to Theo, who was maneuvering through traffic to bring us the car. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

  “When I make mistakes, I make big ones. I wish I could say it was just every once in a while. I think I have a tendency to do it at least three times a week.”

  Max scrunched up his face. “Don’t round up. Maybe it’s more like two point five times?”

  I laughed. Nothing should have been funny, but there it was. He’d just made me laugh when things were really, really not funny. “Maybe it’s more like two point five.”

  “Come on. You’ve had enough today. That is for s
ure. I’ll take you home, then I’ll jump on a subway and go home. Don’t let that small-minded person bother you. She’s…sad.”

  Easy for him to say. His life didn’t depend on people like her. “I have an event tonight, so I should get going.”

  He nodded. “Next time, we’ll go to my gym. The only person you’ll see there is a man named Joey who might talk your ear off about his grandson.”

  That sounded like a plan. I also liked the next time in that sentence, even if I knew it was pretty much impossible.

  Later that day, having showered and eaten cereal dry because I was out of milk, I tried to do my work for that evening. Everything was mostly done. We were raising money for children with cancer. It was a worthy cause, and I was glad to help the elderly socialite do it. She’d been nice enough, but when I talked to her, it felt like I might be looking at my own future and I didn’t love the preview.

  Sure, she was rich. She had a big apartment in the city with views of Central Park. Pretty furniture. Nice clothes. Four ex-husbands that made her roll her eyes when she talked about them. But no family around. No one to really talk to. People had moved on, and while maybe she was happy with her own constant company, I wasn’t sure that I could be.

  She’d never indicated to me that she wasn’t happy.

  I just wasn’t sure I could be her and not be miserable all the time. What did that mean? I wasn’t sure. Maybe I could find one husband that I could love for always, like Layla and Zeke. Maybe Bridget and I could share an apartment?

  How is the dating life going? I sent the text to Bridget as I thought of her. I had suggested that she start looking for Australian surfers. She’d told me there weren’t that many of them hanging around in Hong Kong on the trading floors.

  Bridget didn’t reach out much anymore. Was that because of me? Did my family just not want me around?