by Sybil Bartel
She crossed her arms and her eyes welled, but she didn’t deny it.
I stepped closer and lowered my voice. “Give Vincenzo what he wants. Be done with it. Move the fuck on with your life. You don’t need him or his approval.”
“My father didn’t put me in this position. You did.”
“I know.” God-fucking-damn it, I knew. “And I’m sorry. But don’t think for one second that you couldn’t have wound up here all on your own simply because you share a last name with a prick.” I dropped my voice. “Don’t let him own you when he doesn’t pay it back.”
“I don’t even know why you give a shit.” She turned her back on me and her voice broke. “You didn’t want me either.”
“Turn around,” I demanded.
Hurt clouded her tone. “Screw you.”
“Turn. Around.”
She swiped at her face but then she spun. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“I’m here,” I stated.
“So?”
Hands fisted, jaw tight, my nostrils flared and I repeated myself. “I’m right fucking here.”
“Good for you.”
The valet pulled up with her ride.
“You’re not hearing me.”
“I heard every word,” she argued like she knew what the fuck she was talking about. “But it doesn’t change a thing.”
Every muscle in my body tensed with the urge to reach for her and slam my mouth over hers and end this bullshit between us, but I didn’t.
I fucking didn’t.
I stood there like a goddamn pussy, waiting for her to do exactly what she accused me of not doing for her.
I waited for her to fucking choose me.
I was still waiting when the valet held her door open.
I was still fucking waiting when she got behind the wheel.
Then I was watching taillights.
Goddamn motherfucker.
I CRIED THE WHOLE WAY home.
Then I cried in the penthouse, but I didn’t want to cry anymore. I didn’t want to feel these stupid feelings, and I didn’t want a stupid, stupid bodyguard to be so stupidly handsome in a tux. I hated him.
I loved him.
I didn’t know what the hell I wanted, but I knew one thing.
He’d been right.
Leo Amherst didn’t give a shit about me.
I was always the junkie groupie’s daughter. Leo Amherst had never treated his own wife decently, I didn’t know why I ever expected him to treat me any better, but I did. And I’d held on to that hope. I’d been holding on to it my whole life, except now I needed to let it go.
Tears spilling down my face, I called him.
Shockingly, he answered. On the fifth ring.
Out of breath, his nasally voice came over the line. “Summer. What are you doing? I thought you were at that thing with Fallon and the charity.”
Irritation simmered. “That thing was a fund raiser for Children’s Hospital.” And Fallon had done it all herself. She’d created the whole charity on her own and kept it afloat for almost as long as I’d been alive. It wasn’t just a thing.
It was honorable work.
“You know what I mean,” he chided me like he always did. “What’s up? Why are you calling?”
Had he always been this much of an asshole? “I just thought you should know I’m out of rehab.” And he’d never called me.
“Good, good. Keep it clean. Stay fit.”
He rushed through his little bullshit speech and every word he spoke made me realize what I never wanted to acknowledge.
Leo Amherst didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself.
“Some mafia guy wanted me to introduce him to you tonight.”
Leo let out a small laugh, but it was one hundred percent condescending. “Little hard to make introductions when I’m not there, princess.”
Princess?
Bile rose and I wanted to vomit at the pet name he hadn’t called me since I was ten. “Did you hear who I said he was?”
“No. What’s his name?”
He didn’t even give a shit that I said mafia. If meeting someone netted him money, he didn’t care what they did.
It hit me like a ton of bricks.
Leo Amherst was Massimo Vincenzo.
They were exactly alike.
What a fool I’d been.
“His name’s Massimo Vincenzo. You’ll love him. He’s just like you.”
“Good, good. Give him my number.” A woman giggled in the background and Leo grunted. “I’m ah, in the middle of something. Anything else, sweetheart?”
Yeah. Fuck off, Dad.
“No. I’ll make sure he gets your number.”
“Okay, thanks, sweethea—”
I hung up.
Then I dialed André’s cell.
He picked up on the first ring. “Luna.”
“It’s Summer. Are you still at the event?”
“Yes.”
“Are you near Massimo Vincenzo?”
“Yes.”
“Give him your phone, please.”
“Copy. Hold.”
There was a slight pause and I heard people talking, then Massimo came on the line.
“Signorina, what a lovely surprise. I’m sorry our dinner was interrupted.”
I wasn’t. “Do you still want Leo’s number?”
“If he will take my call.”
I knew what he was saying. Leo better take his call if I wanted out from under Massimo. “He will,” I promised. Then I rattled off my father’s private cell phone number. “This makes us even.”
“Yes, it does. Buona sera, signorina.”
“Good night.”
I hung up on Massimo and my past. Then I made another call.
It was answered on the second ring. Then Ronan’s quiet voice filled the line. “He didn’t come back inside.”
“I figured.” Shade wasn’t a man who would willingly spend time at an event like my stepmother was hosting tonight, and I was okay with that.
Ronan recited an address.
I couldn’t help it, I smiled. “I don’t know if I should be upset I’m that transparent or worried you’re that intuitive.”
“Neither.”
Of course Ronan would answer like that. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied in the same quiet, even tone he always used.
“One day some woman is going to be lucky to get under that quiet demeanor of yours.”
No laugh or smirk or acknowledgement of any kind, Ronan ignored my comment. “Take care of yourself.”
An emotional mess, my eyes welled, but I smiled because I honestly felt stronger than I ever had. “Thank you. Not for the words, but for the sentiment.” Because I honestly felt like he meant them.
“Good night, Summer.”
“Good night, Ronan.”
He hung up and I grabbed my keys.
YANKING MY JACKET OFF, I strode into my apartment and aimed for the whiskey. The new hardware making me feel like a goddamn pussy, I cursed my idiocy.
“Fucking princesses.” I poured three fingers out of habit, but then I paused because every single thing I did now, I thought about her. Glaring at the glass, I cursed. “Fucking hell.” Looking for an escape, I took a swallow of the whiskey but it tasted like shit.
I couldn’t even enjoy a damn drink anymore.
My cell vibrated and I yanked the damn thing out of my pocket and glanced at the display. Setting my drink down and swiping my finger across the screen, I barked at Ronan. “What do you want?”
“She called Luna,” Ronan stated without preamble.
“Good for her.”
“You knew Vincenzo wasn’t going to let it go.”
“Not my problem. Is there a point to this call?”
“You didn’t want her to have to look over her shoulder.”
“Speed it up, Conlon. I don’t have all night.”
“No, you don’t,” he agreed.
Jesus Christ. “What the fuck do you want?”
“It’s what you want.”
Cagey EOD fuck. “You’re lucky I can’t reach through the phone.”
“Keep your door unlocked,” he stated evenly.
“You motherfucker.” Pissed, I strode to my front door and yanked it open.
Arm up, eyes wide, hand fisted like she was about to knock, Summer flinched.
“You’re welcome.” Ronan hung up.
I tossed my phone on the entry table. “How did you get my address?” I knew how. I wanted her to cop to it.
Her cheeks tinted. “Ronan.”
Hating another man’s name passing her lips, I didn’t step aside to let her in. I made her work for it. “What do you want?”
Holding her purse in front of her like a shield, she searched my face. Then she cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. “You were right.”
The woman with brass. That’s who I was looking at, but I stubbornly didn’t want that woman right now. I wanted the woman who looked at me like I was her entire fucking world. “If you came to kiss my ass, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” I didn’t have time for, nor did I give a fuck about that kind of shit. I just wanted honesty.
The corner of her mouth twitched. “So you’ve told me, repeatedly.”
I was done with the bullshit. “I’ve got better shit to do than stand here and listen to a woman who chooses to break bread with a Mafioso prick. So if you have something to say, have at it. Otherwise, find your way home.” I grabbed the door.
Her face twisted with remorse, and she blurted shit out like a kid caught red-handed. “I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t ask you to apologize.” Apologies were a shit excuse for bad decisions.
Her gaze darted to my hand on the door. “What do you want me to say?”
“You don’t have to say a damn thing.” Her actions spoke plenty. So did mine.
“Oh come on.” Her attitude came out in spades. “Quit being a jerk. I said I’m sorry. I’m here now. What more do you want?”
“You’re here now?” She was pissing me the fuck off. “I showed tonight for you, woman.” I put the fucking tux on for her. “And your move is to go off with Vincenzo?” Where the fuck was she a half hour ago? Oh that’s right, kissing fucking Vincenzo’s ass.
Throwing her hands up, she yelled. “You were being an asshole!”
“How?” I yelled back. “By giving a fuck about you?”
“If tossing me aside the first chance you get is how you give a fuck about me, then your version of caring sucks.”
My nostrils flared. “I’m not repeating myself, woman.” I made to shut the door.
“Wait.” Her hand shot out. “Why did you show up tonight?”
Irrationally enraged, I stared her down.
“Oh my God, seriously?” She shook her head in disgust. “That’s your version of communication? Just fucking talk to me.”
I didn’t say shit. I shouldn’t have had to.
Inhaling like she needed it for control, she brought her tone down. “Look, I don’t want to fight with you. I don’t even know what we’re fighting about.” Her throat moved with a swallow. Then her voice turned soft. “If you want me to understand what you’re thinking, Shade, you have to tell me.”
Schooled.
By a fucking woman not even twenty.
I turned around and walked into my place.
HIS DRESS SHIRT STRETCHED ACROSS his impossibly huge shoulders, he turned his back on me and stalked into his apartment without a word.
Taking it as a good sign that he didn’t slam the door, I followed him inside, but the second I crossed the threshold, doubt caught up to me.
He grabbed a drink off the counter. “You got twelve steps or some shit like that you need to follow? You gonna freak out if I have another drink?”
Unsure if I hated his crudeness or appreciated it, I refrained from rolling my eyes. “I wasn’t an alcoholic, and I already told you not to patronize me. Have the damn bourbon.”
He eyed me a moment. Then he tipped the glass back and took a large gulp.
Tingles of awareness pricked over my skin and I thought about what his mouth would taste like if kissed me right now. Forcing the thought down, I glanced around his place but not a single furnishing suited him. All light grays and whites, everything was super modern and there wasn’t a single personal item anywhere. “How long have you lived here?”
His eyes on me, he took another swallow, but he didn’t say a word.
Oh my God. “Real mature ignoring me.”
“Says the nineteen-year-old who turned her back on me,” he stated flatly.
“Twenty,” I corrected, stretching the truth, wondering why the hell I was still standing here.
He snorted out a smirk. “Since when?”
“What do you care?”
“I don’t.”
Smarting at his callous remark, I told myself I didn’t give a damn what he did or didn’t care about. I hated myself for asking the stupid question in the first place. I didn’t need this shit. And I sure as hell didn’t need a Neanderthal alphahole who ran hot one minute, cold the next, and every shade of asshole in between.
Fuck this.
I turned to leave, but then I stopped myself and faced him. “You know what?” I didn’t wait for a reply, not that I was going get anything past the arrogant raising of one of his eyebrows. “You’re a fucking asshole. No wonder you’re alone at your age. Toddlers communicate better than you. I was stupid to even think we had a chance.”
“Yeah?” The already raised eyebrow rose higher. “A chance at what, sweetheart? Happily ever after?” he bit out sarcastically. “A white picket fence? Little trust fund babies running around calling Thomas gramps and wondering why their daddy is the same age as their fucking supermodel grandmother?”
Startled, I flinched.
Not because he said it, but because he’d thought about it.
He’d actually thought about having kids… with me. Summer Amherst. The spoiled, trust fund, ex junkie, rehab cliché fuck-up. And him. The war hero asshole.
I couldn’t help it.
I smiled.
Wide.
Then a giggle escaped and there was no stopping it. The ridiculousness of it all multiplied until I was clutching my stomach and tears were rolling down my face. I laughed my ass off.
All the while a Marine stood there with his drink in his hand and a twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Holding one hand out, the other across my stomach, trying to catch my breath, I shook my head. “Wait.” A fresh wave erupted.
“For what?” he quipped sarcastically. “For you to lose your shit even more, so instead of a pickup at rehab, I’m dropping you off at the nearest psych ward?”
I laughed harder. “You… you…” Choking on the absurdity of the situation, I barely managed to get the words out. “You could call the Cowboy, Daddy.” I dissolved into a fit. Cry laughing, swiping at my face, trying to pull my shit together, I almost missed it.
Taking a sip of his whiskey, his expression changed.
Like the time on the side of the highway when I’d kissed him. Like the moment he’d let me touch him in his bedroom in the cabin. Like the second his gaze had landed on me under that cabin—his eyes darkened to an impossible shade of possessive dominance, and I knew all he saw was me.
He lifted his chin once. “You done?”
A rogue giggle escaped, and I nodded, but I had to slap my hands over my mouth to stop a fresh wave.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” He set his drink down. “Get the fuck over here.”
I didn’t hesitate.
I walked toward him, and he did the most un-Shade thing I ever could’ve imagined.
He pulled me into his arms and hugged me tight. “I’m not fucking calling your stepmother, mom, and the Kid can suck my dick.”
Melting into his embrace, his warmth and spicy musk and sheer size making me feel safe, I smiled. “I
’d rather he didn’t.”
Shade snorted out a half laugh. “So would he.”
My laughing fit past, I sobered. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
“I fucking hate apologies.” He pulled back just enough to look down at me. “That means shit went south. It means we said or did things we shouldn’t have.” His hand fisted in my hair in a show of pure dominance. “I don’t want that kind of bullshit between us. Don’t ever apologize to me. Just give me honesty.”
“Okay.” I could do that. I would love to do that. More than he could possibly know. My whole life had been bullshit. “Simple, honest, straightforward.” That was exactly what I wanted.
He lifted his chin. “Good. And I’ll do the same.”
“Okay.” The corners of my lips curved up and suddenly I felt shy.
It was one thing to be in his arms in a darkened cabin during a blizzard without another soul around. It made the idea of us so much more tangible. But standing in his arms in a modern high-rise apartment in South Beach with each of us dressed for a black-tie affair somehow felt more real, but less concrete. Like at any moment this life, my life here in Miami, it could decimate us.
He frowned. “I missed your birthday.”
“You said you didn’t care.” I reminded him. “Do you like Miami?”
The lines between his eyes deepened. “I don’t give a fuck how old you are.”
“You did.”
The frown disappeared and tension eased out of his expression. “Now I don’t. What’s wrong with Miami?”
“I’m not sure.” Something didn’t feel right. “What changed for you?”
His eyes searched my face, then he brushed my hair behind my ear. “I like you as a brunette.”
I smiled. “I like you period, but that doesn’t answer my question.”
He smiled back, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “That, right there, is what changed.”
I didn’t understand, but for once, I didn’t push. I waited.
His gaze dropped to his hand as he traced my collarbone with a rough finger and left a wake of gooseflesh in his path. Exhaling, the smokiness of the whiskey he’d drunk drifted over me. “You want the absolute truth?”