The tapping stopped and Charlie put on a thoughtful face. “That’s right. We had to get rid of it, didn’t we? You couldn’t get the stains out?”
Luther nodded and Dylan paled considerably. Luca gave a soft smile, as if he were reminiscing.
“He doesn’t pay me enough, obviously.” He started talking. “I just deliver stuff for him, from his warehouse to wherever he tells me to.” Dylan’s eyes roamed to Luca’s, who shook his head slightly.
Charlie filed that away. Was Luca working for Forrester still?
“I’m going to need addresses, Dylan.”
Luther drove while Dylan talked. An hour later, they pulled over to the airport field Charlie had talked about. They had names, addresses, dates, and all the things they needed to get started.
“Well, you were right about one thing, Dylan.” The kid looked at him hopefully. He was crying, a blubbering mess that didn’t give Charlie any of the feelings Amelia’s tears did. These were the tears of the weak.
“What, sir?”
“He doesn’t pay you enough.”
Dylan didn’t see the baseball bat coming, as it crunched into his ribs.
“When this is over with, you’ll be on my payroll. You’ll tell Forrester you quit because you’ve been in a horrible car accident, making his deliveries, and then I’ll have some jobs for you.” The baseball bat came down on his thigh next. It would take a few months for him to heal, but after Charlie was finished with him, he would be loyal to a fault.
Because fear did that to people.
When Dylan was a crumpled, bloody mess on the field, Charlie turned to Luca, who had stood off the side, watching the whole thing.
“What the fuck was that about?” Luca asked.
“I had to see if you could take it. But now that I see you can, I’m wondering how? Mr. Clean Cut has a sense of the underworld about him.” He wielded his bat, menacingly. “Do you need to have a taste to let me get a feel for you?” Charlie was bluffing, trying to see how much Luca would tell him.
Luca’s chest puffed slightly as he took a step forward.
“I worked for Forrester in high school, doing what this punk does. I quit when my grandma found out. Do with that what you will.” He was daring Charlie, the look in his dark eyes swirling with anger and intensity.
“Even after taking your home and leaving your Gram in a hovel?”
“Even after. He didn’t leave me much choice.”
“How did you just quit?”
Luca looked at Dylan. “Much the same way as your friend, here. Got the shit beat out of me and pretended to be in traction for a year until he forgot about me.”
Luther came around the car.
“Get this piece of shit to the hospital and take me and Luca back to the office so he can get his car.”
He had learned what he needed to. Luca would do just fine.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Amelia was outside, pulling dead blooms off Gram’s roses after an evening of telling her of her new job in veiled terms of a consort of sorts. She explained Adam Beckett as a sponsor, who was giving her money in return for being a secretary for his secretary. It was all a bunch of nonsense, and not something she was sure ever really happened in Regency England, but whatever. It allowed her to talk to Gram without lying to her outright.
She sighed as she sat in the tilled dirt and gently picked around the thorny roses. They were looking more beautiful every day, and she got a lot of enjoyment from them.
But not enough. Even the job, which supported the both of them perfectly and didn’t require much more from her than the description stated was nice. But it didn’t do what it needed to for her fulfillment.
She wasn’t changing anything in her world with it.
But something else had happened that she thought would, if she could get around this ever-present panic.
She dropped the dead flowers into her apron pocket and sat back on her heels.
She was pregnant.
Amelia Flores would exist as this baby’s mother. It would depend on her for everything in its first years, and that was heady. Her existence was something outside of Gram, her job, and this house. It would be as a mother.
That was such an abstract thought for her, since the baby was smaller than a lima bean inside her uterus at this point. The last time she’d had this feeling, it had literally been beaten out of her.
Now she didn’t quite trust it.
The father was a killer who had beaten the first baby’s father to within an inch of his life, so she knew it wasn’t something she could keep from him. But at the same time, did she want him in the baby’s life? Really?
Something inside her that had been withering and dying the last few weeks sparked to life right then.
She’d tried her best to put Charlie out of her mind, but it had been impossible. For someone who had been a part of her life for such a short time, he’d imprinted on her in a big way.
Granted, she’d watched him for months before, fantasizing about him, daydreaming, and making up all sorts of scenarios involving him. But his reality was so much bigger, it took her breath away.
Literally. She was gasping in lungfuls of air as she sat in her garden, wishing she had a bench so she wasn’t wallowing in the dirt.
Thoughts of Charlie were overwhelming. Even before she’d figured out she was pregnant, he’d overwhelmed her. She’d just tried to turn them off, but it had been impossible. Every time she drank a cup of coffee, she saw his delight at her foam pictures. Each time she dressed, she imagined him peeling off the clothes. She’d see a random smile on the street and think of his. Even getting into her car, she thought of his car and Luther’s smiles in the rearview mirror.
Everything reminded her of Charlie, and each memory made her miss him terribly. It was an aching, turning of her insides, until sometimes she thought she’d spill from the inside out. It was pain. It was terror. It was everything.
And she finally thought she understood him. He thrived on these sorts of emotions, probably because he never really felt them himself. She knew he’d had some sort of awful childhood and his inability to feel fear and sadness was linked to that. Her own fear and sadness, for whatever reason had done something to him, and he’d tried to eradicate it, because that’s what he did.
He was a fixer.
Whatever black heart he’d had was in the right place. Even as she thought that, she knew Charlie wasn’t as bad as he said he was.
He loved her. And he would love a child. She didn’t doubt that at all.
He would do everything he could to be a father to the child.
Her hand drifted absently to her belly, wondering how long it would take to feel it kick. Start showing? Feel morning sickness?
And she didn’t really want to do it alone.
Logistics aside, she had to tell him. She didn’t know anything about the details of co-parenting, and everything she knew about Charlie told her the books and articles wouldn’t shed any light on it. Not with him.
Chapter Twenty-eight
“Destiny?” Charlie’s smooth voice spoke out his lowered window to the woman standing outside her building, next to her doorman as she chatted idly. She nodded and got into the car next to him, overwhelming him with the scent of expensive perfume.
“Mr. Delmonico, right?” He nodded.
“Charlie, tonight.” She was pretty, in a purposeful, made-up way. A stark contrast to Amelia’s beauty, she had long blond hair, long legs, and wore a dress that was too short. It was a metallic gold color, and her makeup was fixed artfully, while her hair hung in a long sheet down her back. Her shoes were also gold and high.
“It’s nice to meet you.” He could hear Luther’s grunt from the front seat and knew his friend was mad at him. He’d filled Luther in on everything, and Luther had argued about hiring a woman for tonight’s party.
The truth was, Luther had been right, and Charlie knew it. Tonight w
ouldn’t go as well with Destiny on his arm, but he hated these events by himself. Single men stuck out like a sore thumb, and he needed to not stick out. He was there to make a statement, and that was all.
“Tonight won’t last long. I need to appear at this function just long enough for an important person to see me, then we’ll leave. You are my date, and if you see someone you know, please be subtle about it. You’re supposed to be with me,” he told the woman more as a reminder than anything else. “If it works out, there may be more functions in the future.”
“Don’t worry. If I see someone I know, they won’t want me to acknowledge them.” She grinned at him, and he relaxed somewhat. Hiring a woman always had its drawbacks, but the service he used was expensive, and it was because of their discretion.
**
Amelia wore her favorite little black dress from her shopping spree with Charlie’s money. It was simple, yet elegant, and she wore her grandma’s pearls with it. She felt like Jackie Kennedy, walking up to the door of the house on Adam’s arm. He had loosened up a little bit since she’d started working for him, even if he was still really uptight.
The house was gorgeous. Massive on the outside, the inside was tastefully decorated in soft golds and reds, exuding money as if it would start falling from the ceiling at any moment. Furniture had been moved out to make room for hundreds of people who spilled into rooms that were surely formal living and dining areas.
Adam shook the hand of a man and woman at the door greeting guests.
“Adam Beckett!” The woman leaned in to kiss him on both cheeks, something affected by the European from generations of habit, or the rich, from decades of posing. It was hard to tell without knowing the woman. “Bascom, Adam is the one who acquired that lovely cherub in the outer courtyard for me. And he’s going to get me more pieces. Remember?”
Bascom Forrester grunted as he held his hand out, but he was staring at Amelia. Her skin prickled under his gaze as he reached for her.
“And who is this lovely creature?” She had let him clasp her hand in his, and he was kissing the knuckles, his grip loose and cold. His lips left a glossy patch on her hand, and she resented it. She didn’t like random men’s lips on her skin.
“This is my assistant, Amelia. I thought your lovely wife may want to meet the woman who does all the grunt work at my office. Without her, I may not be able to get everything done in a timely manner.”
All the fake sweetness was giving Amelia a cavity. Meanwhile, Bascom stared at her through lowered lids, as if he had X-ray vision. It was creepy.
The wife gushed. “Oh my! Well, help yourselves to anything. And if you need something special to drink, just ask Edward. He’s floating around here somewhere.”
Amelia might. She wondered what sort of non-alcoholic options were available, but she wasn’t about to search out some guy named Edward. Surely, they had club soda.
As they made their way into the room, Amelia realized how tense Adam had been. His arm relaxed under her hand and she squeezed, acknowledging his relaxation. She could only wish she felt the same. Her own stomach was twisting uncomfortably.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Just pretend it’s all yours.” Was she tense? Acting weird?
She pasted a smile on her face, and replied, “I can’t. I would never paint the walls this color.” He barked out a laugh and patted her hand, leading her to the end of the room where they could watch people.
For what, she had no idea, but if she knew anything about her boss, it was that he was careful. He wasn’t the type to run the world from a stage. He was a behind-the-curtain kind of guy, like Charlie, pulling levers and drawing strings to manipulate things to his desires.
It was as if she manifested him out of thin air. As soon as she thought it, Charlie came in the door, shaking hands with the couple greeting guests. Bascom smiled and said something to him. Charlie’s face morphed into cheeks turned red, deep crimson slashes that made a stark contrast to his tan skin, and his head swung toward her immediately, his eyes locking on hers.
All of the air suddenly evaporated from the room, and no one else existed. The chatter around them dimmed to a muffled buzz, and everything in Amelia’s peripheral vision faded away.
Her stomach’s twisting intensified as she fell into the abyss of Charlie’s eyes. She’d never seen him look so surprised, and then angry, as his eyes shifted to Adam next to her, then her hand on his arm.
But that wasn’t all. As Amelia drank him in, an elegant, manicured hand stroked his chest. The hand was connected to a leggy supermodel, and Amelia’s heart exploded into a million pieces. He had his arm around her waist, like he’d done with Amelia on several occasions.
She knew what the woman was. And she knew if she hadn’t left him, that would be Amelia stroking Charlie’s chest like she owned him. But it still didn’t help.
“You didn’t tell me Charlie would be here,” she whispered out of the side of her mouth to Adam.
“I didn’t know it would matter.”
“It wouldn’t have. But I asked for a warning, didn’t I?”
She suddenly felt sick. She wasn’t ready to talk to him. It was something she knew she had to do, but this wasn’t the right place, and certainly not the right time.
“I’m going to go find a restroom. I’ll be right back,” she muttered before making short work of getting the hell out of the same room as Charlie Delmonico.
There was a long hallway off the living area, doors open to showcase more rooms with walls covered in artwork. There was a study, a movie theater, and a small sitting room, but no restroom. Her desperation grew bigger with each room that wasn’t a restroom with a locking door. Spying Edward, she asked him, “Is there a restroom?”
“Of course. There is one on the other side of the living room.” Edward must have seen her pale features and the look of mortification on her face at the daunting task of going back through the living room with Charlie in it. “The closest one is in the garage, though. Through the kitchen, if you’ll excuse it not being really set up for guests.”
“Thank you.” She spun around and flew through the kitchen doors, her stomach heaving. She swallowed hard and darted around the staff and caterers working to go out the door to the outside and follow a small breezeway to the garage.
Leaning over the sink, she took in great lungfuls of air, wanting her stomach to settle. She swallowed down the bile that had risen in her throat, willing it back to her stomach where it belonged. She gulped a time or two, then looked at herself in the mirror.
Deciding it wasn’t too bad, she got a towel, wet the corner, and swiped it across the back of her neck.
She knew she’d run across him at some point. He worked with Adam. Or Adam worked with him. Whatever. But they were associates of some sort, and she was a smart girl. They apparently ran in the same circles, and she would see him.
Amelia just hadn’t been expecting it to be tonight. So soon.
She laughed at herself. It wasn’t soon. She was just a chickenshit.
Things would never be right between them again. Baby or no baby. He would go home and fuck his date for the evening, and she would go home to Gram.
She exhaled a breath, finally feeling more composed and straightened herself. This room was bigger than she realized at first, probably as large as her own kitchen, which was a stupid waste for a bathroom in the garage.
Amelia took a deep breath and exhaled hard. She had to be a grown-ass woman about all this. She was here in a professional capacity. Charlie was a part of her past. Sure, seeing him hurt, but it was for the best. She couldn’t be with him, knowing that he would hurt people on her behalf without listening to her first.
Was that what this was? Was she pissed about that?
Oh God. She had to think about that another time. She really needed to get back to the party, and not give Adam a reason to fire her.
Quietly, she let herself out the door and into the garage
. She hadn’t noticed the cars in there before, on her single-minded mission to get to a bathroom. But she saw them now, as well as the empty bays.
Bascom Forrester, the man who owned the house, was standing in the middle of a semi-circle of men, all looking at her hungrily.
“I see Mr. Delmonico sweetened the terms of our deal.” His eyes crawled down her body as he leered at her, taking a step toward her. There were so many things she could say, should say, but the look in his eyes stole her words. She was suddenly more scared than she’d ever been in her life.
She took a step backward and felt the hard muscle of another man as his arms came up and clamped around her chest.
She was in trouble.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Charlie had shaken Forrester’s hand absently, as his wife spoke to his date about drinks and some guy named Edward. But he couldn’t stop looking at Amelia.
Focus.
She was gorgeous tonight. She glowed, even if she did look a little green at the sight of him. Her eyes, dark-brown pools of the darkest chocolate, her pale skin, her ebony hair. She was fucking exquisite. And she had a death grip on Adam.
Fucking Adam.
As soon as she left the room, Charlie strode over to Adam.
“Why did you bring her here?” This place would taint her. Forrester lived here, propped his feet up here, fucked his wife here. If Bascom Forrester was as horrible a person as these guys thought he was, why would he bring someone as innocent and good as Amelia into the lion’s den?
“I needed a date.” Adam’s shrug infuriated him.
“You should have rented one, like I did.” Charlie jerked his chin at Destiny, who was making her way over to them. She casually twined her arm through Charlie’s, and he shrugged her off. “Where did she go?” he demanded. His intention was to get her out of here, but the way she looked, he’d have a hard time keeping his hands off her.
He could pass Destiny off to Adam, and then take Amelia home. It was a long enough drive; maybe he could talk to her on the way.
Yeah, he needed to talk to her.
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