by Celeste, B.
Nearly falling from the jerked motion, I groaned. “Jase, I’m not—”
“Not Jase.” A pair of hot lips found the back of my neck, making me lock up. My elbow instinctively jabbed the unknown person who was giving me unwanted attention but he barely budged. “Relax, babe. I’m just playing around. You looked lonely.”
I managed to turn, glaring at the idiot who smelled like cheap beer and even cheaper perfume of whoever he was mauling last. It shouldn’t have surprised me to see Evan Wallace there, grinning at me half-baked like the stoner he was. “Seriously, Evan?”
“What? Lawrence is busy so I figured I’d keep you company.” He hated Ren and I didn’t know why, but worse, he disliked me. I barely knew him but his actions toward me since we first met had been nothing but annoying. He’d made comments, catcalled, and tried getting me to go to his attic loft with him. It didn’t matter how many people told him to stop, Evan was determined to do what he wanted, and it gave me a bad feeling every time.
“I don’t want you to,” I stated firmly.
“Aw, don’t be like that, babe.”
“Don’t call me that.” How many times had I told him that? It was impossible to tell at that point, that was how many.
His arm went back to my waist, hooking it around me and tugging me into his chest. The smell coming from his breath was nauseating, so I held my breath. It didn’t help that I felt off, tired, draggy, and realized I’d drank too much to be wandering about. “You always play hard to get. We both know you’re not with McKinley even if you’ve fooled others into believing it.”
“That doesn’t mean I want you.” Shoving him away with what little energy I had, he stumbled into a group of girls who all complained when beer spilled onto the hardwood. It wouldn’t be the worst thing the floors had seen. I was sure of it.
The water might not have helped all that much because my legs felt funny, but Evan’s persistence was definitely doing something to keep me hyperaware if not semi-sober. Blinking back the heaviness of my eyes, I backed up and made my way toward Lawrence.
Except he disappeared.
“Shit,” I grumbled, wincing at myself. I normally didn’t swear unless my filter was off. That usually only happened when I was pissed, tired, impatient, or a little of all three. I guessed drunk could be added to that list.
Rita saddled up beside me. “He and Ben went upstairs. Said something about fresh air, but I think we both know that’s a lie.”
I rubbed my temples. “Doesn’t that bother you?” I loved Lawrence, but he didn’t care if the people he chased were with somebody else. If he was interested, he went for it. Shameless flirting usually led to more with him if he set his sights on somebody. It was sort of impressive how bold he was, even if I didn’t agree with his tactic.
Rita shrugged. “Ben and I were having fun, but I think he was using me as a beard because of his dad. His family is old school if you know what I mean.” Ben’s family wasn’t one I knew, but it was upsetting if that was the case. I didn’t know many people who were against that kind of relationship, but I wasn’t naïve to think they didn’t exist. Ren’s parents played dumb, but I was almost positive they knew of their son’s interests and just chose not to intervene.
“That sucks.”
“What about you? Not strung out for your best friend. He’s cute. You’d make an adorable couple, and unlike Ben, it looks like Lawrence swings both ways.”
Instantly, my head shook. It was instinctive at that point because I’d had the conversations plenty of times. “That won’t be happening in this lifetime. We’re just friends. Although, I’d be tempted to question that since he ditched me.”
She giggled, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I’m sure they’ll be back down soon enough. Want to grab a drink with me?”
I wanted to be nice and say yes, but my head was already light and fuzzy, and all I wanted was to go home and sleep tonight off. If Ren was busy with Ben, that meant heaving to find somebody else to get me home, maybe Dallas, a driver Sophie hired for me when the one my father employed was let go right after the arrest was made. “I really shouldn’t. I’m going to find Ren. I kind of want to head out.”
“You just got here!” She normally stayed until the middle of the night, but that wasn’t me. Not even on the days I was sober, maybe especially then. Seeing what the people here did without a care in the world made me realize how much I didn’t fit into their crowd. Or any crowd, it seemed. Plus, there were still people who gave me one look and started whispering. Probably about the scandal and my father, maybe about the articles online on me. That was when the tingling started, the itch of anxiety creeping up the back of my neck like prickles of heat sent to taunt me as they watched me.
I waved despite Rita’s protest and gave her an apologetic smile. Evan’s eyes were still on me like a hawk, following me as I weaved through the crowd. They were narrowed and it made my skin crawl, so I stayed vigilant of the way he moved a few feet behind me like he didn’t want me knowing he was but was too smashed to be as stealthy as he wanted. Even a few of his frat brothers had talked about the growing difference in him over the past year. He was always annoying, but then he turned into a drunken stoner who acted out like he had nothing left to lose. Maybe if he wasn’t such a pest to me, I’d find it in me to care, even be concerned.
My hand found the phone in my dress pocket, speed dialing Lawrence by muscle memory as I pulled it out. He didn’t pick up, making me wonder just how busy he got with Ben as soon as they’d found a place. There was a chance they’d gone to his room, but there were too many other ones in the house for me to check and the stairs were packed full of people already.
Blinking back exhaustion, I stumbled into a few partygoers when my legs became like jelly beneath me. I murmured an apology that a few people brushed off, while a guy I recognized as Ren’s teammate looked me over with concern from where he was talking to somebody by the refreshment table. I thought his name started with J. Jamie? Jacob? It didn’t matter.
I dragged my hand along the wall until I made it outside, my fingers dialing a different number as my feet became heavier.
He picked up after one ring. “S-Something’s wrong,” I slurred, dropping onto an abandoned beach chair outside the house. There were a few people mingling, one couple making out on the lawn, and empty cans and red cups littering the freshly mowed grass.
“Where are you?” His voice was clipped, but there was enough worry etched in it to make me think it wasn’t because I called. At least, I hoped it wasn’t.
I was pretty sure I gave him the address, but my brain shut off somewhere between sitting down and saying anything to him. My phone was on my lap, my eyelids blinking heavily, and my mouth like lead to the point I couldn’t move it. A voice in my head told me to stay awake, but it was hard to listen.
It was sometime later when I heard my name being called before familiar hands found my arms. His deep voice barked at somebody before I was being lifted.
“Della?” A new voice said from close by. “Jesus Christ, what happened?”
“What happened,” the man holding me spat, “was that you left her alone at an STD fest. What the fuck did you think would happen?”
My eyes cracked open slightly to see Theo’s hard face glaring over me. I didn’t turn my head, but I recognized my best friend’s voice as he replied, “I’m sorry. Shit, I was just—”
“Does it look like I give a shit what you were doing?” Theo snapped, his grip tightening around me. His head shook as he carefully adjusted me in his arms so one of them was perched behind my knees and the other supporting my back.
“I’m sorry. As soon as my buddy noticed she was acting off, I came as soon as I could.”
Theo didn’t grace Lawrence with a reply before turning. His eyes found mine as we walked, the cold air making my overheated body feel better despite the goosebumps that formed from the way his gaze bored into me. “What did I tell you about drinking at these?”
; I couldn’t answer him. He swore again.
I tried saying something, but he just quieted me, yanking open a door before carefully draping me on cool leather seats. I didn’t remember what happened after that except drifting off to the familiar and easing scent of tobacco and cologne.
Chapter Two
Theo
The last thing my dick should have done was get hard when I stepped back from pulling my comforter over Della’s sleeping form, but it became suffocated behind the zipper of my slacks as soon as I saw her curl into my sheets, knowing she’d smell like me.
“Fuck,” I grumbled, closing the door behind me. As much as I wanted to make sure she was okay, I didn’t need to watch her sleep before going to the fucking master bathroom and rubbing out a permanent hard on that appeared whenever she was around.
Dropping into the leather chair in my home office on the other end of the house I won during my divorce, I scrubbed a palm down my face and eyed the tumbler of amber liquid left abandoned when I got the call. I wanted to drain it, pour another one, and dive back into the work still sprawled across my otherwise organized desk. Unfortunately, the reason why that was a bad idea was sleeping in my bed.
Somebody had drugged her drink, I was sure of it. And her own friend, the one she told me countless times always protected her when they were out, couldn’t even keep his dick in his pants long enough to make sure she was good. Blood boiled under my skin thinking about the pretty boy who she shared a past with—one I wasn’t stupid enough to believe was just platonic. I’d seen the way he stared at her ass when she swiveled those goddamn hips she grew into. She didn’t seem to know people like him watched, but they did. It wasn’t always because of her past like she assumed, it was out of desire and it pissed me off.
She’d denied ever getting involved with Pretty Boy, the McKinley kid, for years. I’d known better than to believe it because they were always pushed together by Sophie. I didn’t give a shit if she thought they made a cute couple, it was only a matter of time before the kid wanted to start pushing his luck with her. I was a teenage boy once too and knew what my dick wanted. Anybody with eyes could see that would happen between them at some point.
“Fuck,” I repeated, gripping the nearest manilla folder and studying the contents to shove the thought out of my head. I didn’t want to think about who Della had been involved with in the past. I knew for a fact it wasn’t many people at all. Pretty Boy was definitely one, and maybe the Phelps kid who hung around her a few summers before her father’s arrest. The only good thing that came from that was the Phelps family and their kid, who I didn’t care enough about to remember the name of, left Della alone when news broke because they didn’t want to be involved with anybody that had the Saint James last name. I’d seen what it did to Della, but I couldn’t get myself to care because it meant I didn’t have to threaten some asshole over how they treated her.
Focusing on work helped, it always did. Not just because of Della, but life. The divorce. The drama. The gossip. Then the trial. I dove into what I did best—making money. I hardly made friends in my line of work because that wasn’t what I set out to do. Most people I encountered only wanted to use me for my bank account anyway, so it wasn’t worth it. Anthony had been the only true friend I trusted, and not even what he’d done wavered that.
Work was the same bullshit, different day as I stared at the files. Numbers in black that had more zeros than most people saw in their lifetime and names of millionaires attached that I knew for a fact were too full of themselves for their own good. Most days, I liked my job. The business world was one where I got to get shit done in my own way, at my own pace. Typically, it was straight to the point without the bullshit attached.
Before Anthony Saint James became governor, he’d once been a partner in my consulting firm that I started shortly after acquiring my master’s in business from NYU. He had set his sights on something else, something bigger, while I was content staying on the sidelines and watching him get everything he wanted. In fact, I encouraged him. That was what friends did and I was happy to see him achieve whatever the hell he put his mind to because it meant something to him.
I was far from a jealous man. Possessive, perhaps, but not jealous. Everything Anthony worked hard for was well earned—the job, the title, the family. He loved Elizabeth and Adele with everything he had, even more than his job. There wasn’t anything he did that he wasn’t good at; being a loving father and husband and governing an entire state. He’d had bad days, some worse than others, and I wasn’t sure Della knew when their parents’ marriage was rocky, and he stayed with me for a week. I was under the impression he guised it as a trip for work. She had no reason to believe otherwise because her parents had the kind of sickening love that people envied. Me though? Not so much. Not until I saw what her death did to him. He was ripped apart, like a piece of him was suddenly missing, and I didn’t realize until then, that it was the kind of love worth envying. Something I didn’t have with my wife at the time.
I worked until the early hours of the morning before dumping out the warm alcohol that taunted me and heading to my bedroom upstairs—right next to the one I used to share with my ex. There were plenty of other rooms in the house, but I favored the downstairs one since it was close to the office, kitchen, and gym. I rarely went anywhere else on the second floor unless there were guests over and that was rare considering the few that stopped by shared a bed with me only until they left in the morning like agreed upon.
Maybe it was knowing that Della was downstairs after what had happened that left me restless, maybe it was the stiffness in my boxer briefs that I refused to relieve no matter how painful it got, but I gave up sleeping more than four hours and found myself in the kitchen just as the sun rose.
I heard the light footsteps before seeing her from my peripheral, her body leaning against the archway leading into the kitchen. She was still wearing the same dress from last night even though I set clothes on the end of the bed for her to change into. Then again, who knew if she even saw them or wanted to wear something that wouldn’t even fit.
“How are you feeling?”
She straightened at my question, pushing herself away from the wall when I held out the cup of coffee I was originally going to down myself.
Her long fingers wrapped around the steaming mug. “Tired,” she croaked, clearing her throat and giving me a timid smile. “I, uh, talked to Lawrence and he told me—”
Cutting her off with a glare wasn’t what she expected, but her lips pressed together when I said, “I don’t want to hear about that piece of shit right now. He knew better than to leave you alone there.”
“He’s not a piece of…” Her voice was quiet, hurt by my words. She cared about him. I knew it. Didn’t like it, but I understood. Della got her loyalty from her father. “He isn’t my babysitter, Theo. It was a frat party and he deserved to have fun. I should have known better than to drink so much, and—”
“Is that what you think happened?”
She frowned.
“You were fucking drugged. Slurring your words, hardly able to stand or open your eyes. It wasn’t from drinking too much. I know for a fact you can hold your own. That you get from your mother and Sophie.” Her cheeks tinted pink, but I ignored the embarrassment. “I never liked you going to those. You’re a target to people. Especially now.”
“I am not!”
I eyed her, then turned my back to prepare a second cup of coffee. “Don’t act stupid, Adele. It doesn’t look good on you.”
“What the hell is your problem?” I knew I hit a nerve when she started swearing, and I hid the twitch of my lips as I grabbed creamer from the fridge.
“Careful, Della, or you’ll have to put a dollar in the swear jar.”
“I’m not five anymore,” she pointed out as if I hadn’t figured it out for myself. I rolled my eyes and walked over to the table, setting my coffee down before pulling a chair out.
“I’ve noticed.” The words pro
bably shouldn’t have slipped, but they did.
She was quiet.
Clearing my throat, I took a sip of my coffee before gesturing toward one of the open spots around the large oak table. It was always too big for me and Mariska, especially because kids were never in the future for us. “Might as well sit down. You want me to make you something for breakfast?”
Her lips twitched slightly, and I could only imagine what the sudden amusement was for. I wasn’t a bad cook, but I was out of practice considering how much I ordered takeout or delivery to the office in the center of the city. Compared to her, who I knew enjoyed being in the kitchen and experimenting on new recipes, I looked like one of those amateurs in those shows she enjoyed watching on Food Network. There were a few she’d all but force me to watch with her that I didn’t mind so much, and one that made me feel like a Michelin chef based on the appropriately titled Worst Cooks in America.
Della finally walked over, dropping into the seat directly beside mine. “If I opened your refrigerator, I’d probably find it empty.”
My brow quirked. “Is that so?”
She gave me a challenging stare. “Am I wrong? You’re never here. People talk, Theo. You live at your office.”
“Not much for me here,” was all I graced her with, lifting my mug to my lips again.
Her shoulders lifted. “I just think it’s sad. Your home is beautiful, you know I’ve always thought so. But it’s barely ever used.” I had known that. When I bought it, Mariska was at some art show in a different state, so Della tagged along. She was a moody pre-teen, but somehow, I always got her to calm down. When the agent had walked into the kitchen, Della had all but drooled over what she saw. If memory served right, she’d even picked out her own room upstairs. The real estate agent, an older gentleman, had smiled at me when Della was exploring the second floor and said, “Your daughter reminds me so much of my own.”