by Nikki Sloane
Chaos teemed in Ruby’s beautiful eyes. She was so lost in her hurt, she wasn’t thinking at all. When we got through this, we’d have to work on her anger issues, but right now I had to find a way to defuse the situation.
“I have a good reason for going to the club, trust me,” I said.
“S-S-So you admit you were there.”
Her stutter tore a hole in my heart. “Yes. I need you to calm down so I can explain.”
“Forget it, I don’t want to hear—”
Asking her to calm down always had the opposite effect, so I had no choice but to match her intensity. “Shut up, Ruby.” Anger had pulled my muscles taut. “Goddamn it, you’re going to listen to me.”
She froze, so I pushed on.
“The guy I bought those restraints and other stuff, he agreed to meet Joseph and me at the blindfold club today.”
Her eyes narrowed down to slits.
“I didn’t go there to fuck someone else. I went there to buy things to use while I was fucking you.”
My explanation had no impact on the shield of her temper. “Tariq said you knew both owners of the place. You’d been there before.”
“Yes. You and I know one of the owners . . . intimately.”
Her face went blank with shock, and perhaps a little horror. “Joseph? He owns a whorehouse?”
I grimaced at the word. “No, he doesn’t own the brothel anymore. He sold it to someone else when he fell in love with Noemi.”
“Oh, good lord, Noemi.” Ruby was probably thinking if the story broke that her fiancé was selling sex at some high-end club, it’d ruin the heiress. But her concern for our new friends slipped away and was replaced with her earlier suspicion. “And the other owner?”
“I met Joseph, and the other owner, through Payton. She used to . . .” Fucking hell. “She used to work there a few years ago.”
This statement got through to her, judging by her jolt of surprise. She could see clearly it wasn’t a lie, and her anger flagged. “Oh.”
As her anger faded, mine grew. “This is not the time or place to discuss it. We’ll have to do it later.” My cheek still stung from where she’d slapped me. “You embarrassed both of us by coming here.”
Her posture sagged. It was like my disappointment was physically crushing her. “I . . .”
“I’ve got a client in my office. You need to go.”
Fresh tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back. Even if they fell, I was too angry to let them get to me. Did she realize how badly she’d fucked this up? I went to the door and tugged it open, not looking at her as she exited.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she lingered in the doorway.
It came out colder than I intended. “Yeah, me, too.”
I escorted Ruby to the elevators, not saying a word. Disappointment churned inside my stomach like bile and blotted everything out. She stepped into the empty car, turned to face me in the lobby, and her expression was haunting. She wore guilt and remorse in equal parts, but I wasn’t going to waver. I crossed my arms over my chest to steel myself.
When the doors began their slow slide shut, panic overtook her, like she worried this would be the last time we’d see each other. Her voice was broken. “Goodbye.”
I said nothing.
The doors closed and the elevator carried her away.
Ruby had rendered a guilty verdict before I’d had a fucking chance to defend myself, and I’d never been so angry in all my life.
Oh, wait. No, I thought bitterly. She’d done this to me before, hadn’t she? What had I expected? I was a fool. I deserved to get brutalized by her a second time. I’d been dumb enough to let it happen.
My feet were blocks of concrete as I walked back to the front desk. The audience of two who’d witnessed Ruby’s outburst was still there. Suzanne’s gaze dropped down to her desktop, but my father’s didn’t waver. It put me under a microscope which he turned up to the highest magnification, until he could see every flaw.
“My office,” he ordered. “Now.” The edge to his words was a crack of whip. Then he turned and instructed Suzanne to ask Mr. Gillespie to reschedule.
As a partner, my father’s office was easily twice the size of mine. It was decorated to be elegant and precise. There weren’t any pictures of family. Not one. I’d overheard him joke once to another attorney at the firm how he did that on purpose. It was easier for his clients to see him as less than human that way. He didn’t have emotions or family obligations to get in the way of his job. They were supposed to believe he was fully dedicated to their case.
It was pure bullshit.
He didn’t have family photos because he didn’t care. He had a newspaper article framed from the first big case he’d argued and won. Money, power, and winning. These were the things that mattered to him.
“What the hell was that?” My father’s voice grated on me. I was too upset about what had happened to give much of a shit about his impending lecture. “We can’t have one of your girlfriends coming here. Jesus, Kyle. I’ve never seen something more unprofessional. Thank the lord no one else saw it.”
Whatever. I turned and gazed out his window. He had a better view of the lake, and I stared at the icy edge of the water where it had frozen to the shore.
“And thank God no one heard it.”
“Yeah, I feel real lucky right now.”
He didn’t notice how flat my voice was, or how dead my expression had to be. All he was worried about was how this could negatively reflect on him. “That cannot happen again. Do you understand? I won’t tolerate it.”
He scolded me just like this when I’d come home with a B on a report card once.
“Okay,” I said.
He halted his movement, looking visibly thrown. He’d expected me to defend myself, or at least plead my case, but I didn’t have the energy.
“Okay?” he repeated, stunned. My single word agreement seemed to take all the wind out of his sails, and now he was adrift, unsure where to go.
“Yeah.”
He lived for the fight, and had no idea how to handle a surrender. “Don’t you care about how that scene made us look?”
“Not really. You don’t care about me, so why should I care about you?”
He scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous, of course I care about you.”
“All right.” The urge to prove my point was too powerful to resist. “Who was that woman out front, and what’s her name?”
The question screwed him perfectly. I’d only loved one woman my whole life, and he didn’t even know her fucking name, even though I’d mentioned her at least twice this week.
I let him flounder for a moment, and then set my jaw. “Don’t worry, I doubt you’ll see Ruby again.”
I threw open his door so hard on my exit, it banged against the wall, and his precious framed newspaper article rattled on its hook, threatening to fall.
Chapter
FORTY
RUBY
I was a mess. The fire of my rage earlier had consumed so much energy, I didn’t have any left to cry, and certainly not enough to make therapy macarons. I sat alone in my dark kitchen, my palms flat on the table, hoping if I sat still enough, I’d turn to stone and all my feelings would go away.
I couldn’t call Grant. I didn’t want to talk about what had happened. I wasn’t sure what the fuck I’d tell him, since I could barely admit to myself what I’d done.
When the anger took over, the smart, logical woman I was disappeared. It made everything hazy. I’d confronted Kyle in front of his father and boss. I’d slapped him. And I’d done what I always did when I felt overpowered by emotion . . . I lashed out, hoping to strike where it’d do the most damage. It was a great tool in the courtroom, less so anywhere else.
My phone chimed with a text message from Kyle.
I couldn’t dial fast enough. I’d been a little terrified I’d never hear from him again. “Kyle, I’m so sorry.”
There was a cold tone in his vo
ice that made my blood turn to slush. “Crawford probably made it sound like I had, but I would never cheat on you. You should know that.”
Alone in my dark kitchen, my face crumbled. He was absolutely right. I’d fucked this all up so horribly. I whispered it into the phone. “I know. I’m sorry. I lost my fucking mind. He said there was no other reason for you to be there. He was convincing.”
“You did it again, Ruby. You automatically assumed the worst of me.” His accusation was loaded with pain.
What do you know? Tears are possible.
When I closed my eyes, they streamed hotly down my cheeks. “I didn’t believe him at first, but he kept talking, and the idea of losing you . . .” I sniffled, trying to stuff my emotions back inside me. “It’s not an excuse. I fucked up, and I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, you mentioned it.” His voice fell like a rock.
I wasn’t going to say it needed repeating. Things were too serious to crack a joke, and it felt like he was pulling away from me. I put my palm on my chest, trying to stop it from hurting.
“Please,” I gasped. It was the only word I could choke out. Please forgive me. Please don’t let this be the end. Please, please, please . . . “I love you.” I’d do whatever he wanted. I’d beg until my voice was hoarse and there were no more tears left in my body. Anything. “I’m so sorry. Kyle, please. I love you so much.”
“You’ve a funny way of showing it.”
I deserved whatever he wanted to throw at me. “I know.” I swiped my fingers quickly under my eyes, wiping at the tears. “I won’t overreact again. Ever.”
He issued a noise that sounded like exasperation. “Gotta be honest, that’s not a promise I think you’re capable of keeping.”
“Not without your help,” I whispered.
It was deathly silent on the other side of the conversation, and my insides turned to broken glass.
“Please,” I begged. “Let’s not do this over the phone. Come over.” I’d stall him any way possible. I was desperate. “I love you.”
“Look at the evidence you’ve given me to support your claim.” It was icy, probably to mask his pain.
“I love you, and I can prove it.”
“Yeah?” He was pure sarcasm. “How?”
“I’ll keep loving you,” I broke on the inside as I said it, “even if you stop loving me.”
The lengthy pause stretched between us, and I held my breath.
“I need to go,” he said. “I need time to think about things.”
I nodded slowly, and to myself. “I get it. Whatever you need.”
“Goodbye, Ruby.”
The words tasted like dust in my mouth. “Goodbye, Kyle.”
When he disconnected the call, I crossed my arms on the table, dropped my head onto them, and cried myself to sleep.
Chapter
FORTY-ONE
KYLE
I hung up, and Ruby’s haunting goodbye echoed in my mind. Her voice had been full of worry, like she thought this might be the last time we spoke.
Did I want it to be? No. But I also wanted her to trust me, and I was learning the hard way I couldn’t always get what I wanted. Goddamnit. I set my palms on the counter, spread wide, and hung my head, feeling weary down to my bones.
Why couldn’t she love me the same way I loved her?
I reached for the bottle of bourbon on the counter, and stopped when I saw the box of mint chocolate macarons Ruby had brought over the other night. A new recipe she’d tried out, just for me, because it was my favorite flavor combination. They hadn’t come out perfectly, according to her, but they were still delicious.
The box went in the garbage. I wanted it gone from sight.
I poured my drink but didn’t take a sip. I stared at the caramel-colored liquid with a scowl. Was I going to have to pour it down the drain? It reminded me too much of her.
As did the blue couch.
And the whole fucking city.
I closed my eyes, but even there I couldn’t escape. If anything, it was worse. There was nothing to distract me from the memories of her. How she laughed. How she gasped my name when I made her come.
How she looked when she was standing in my firm’s lobby with tears streaking down her face.
“Fuck!” I threw the glass in the sink, slinging the bourbon everywhere, and it shattered on impact. I stared at the gleaming shards at the bottom of my sink, stunned. I wasn’t one to have emotional outbursts, but then again, I wasn’t one to have much emotion at all.
Not before her, and not after her, either.
It ate at me, the box of macarons in my empty garbage can. I’d seen firsthand how difficult those damn cookies were to get right; she’d worked too hard for me to just throw them away. I lifted the lid on the can, dug the box out, and set it on the counter.
They weren’t perfect, but things rarely were on the first try. She’d told me how sometimes she could have all the right ingredients, but still not have them come together as she wanted. It might even take her a few more attempts before she finally got it right.
Jesus. What if that was us? We had all the right stuff, but needed to refine our process until we got it how it was supposed to be.
I was still picking glass out of my garbage disposal when Payton and Dominic arrived; I’d forgotten completely about our plans to go to dinner. I tried to get out of it, but Payton could be just as stubborn as our father, and I found myself seated at the restaurant, recounting the ordeal.
Once again, I was a third wheel.
I glanced occasionally at my phone, wondering if Ruby would reach out to me, and if so, what she would say. I’d told her I needed time, and I did, but as I stared at the empty spot beside me in the booth, I missed her. All these emotions twisted inside me.
“I know he looks perfect,” Payton said, her smile directed at Dominic, “but no one is. Even he fucks up.”
“Rarely,” Dominic corrected. “You meant to include the word ‘rarely.’”
Payton ignored him, turning her focus on me. “Sounds like she’s got trust issues. You know, you kind of reinforced that by abandoning her after graduating.”
I frowned and pressed my lips together. Even though it was true, it rankled to hear it.
Payton pushed on. “You need to figure out if you can deal. If you love her, you will. It’s cheesy as fuck, and I know you’re going to tell me not to talk to you about love, but that’s what it is.” She leaned into Dominic. “You don’t just stop loving them when they make a mistake.”
Wasn’t that exactly what Ruby had said to me? How she would keep loving me even if I no longer loved her?
My sister snuggled closer to her husband. “And, come on, Kyle. You’re like me.”
“A pain in the ass?” I shot back.
She gave me a dirty look. “I was going to say smart. I bet you can find a way to fix the problem you helped create.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I grumbled.
“Okay.” She flashed a smile at Dominic. “Kyle’s all pathetic looking. Let’s find someone and win your dollar back.”
Courtney Crawford stared at the divorce papers I’d handed to her, and her gaze floated down to the bottom of the page, presumably lingering on Tariq’s signature.
I hadn’t handled a lot of divorce cases. It had never been my area of focus. Too much emotion, and I didn’t know what to do when a client broke down in front of me. I’d never had a shoulder to cry on, although that was partly my fault.
My sister had been there, but we’d both been too afraid to reach out to the other one while we were growing up. Dominic had changed her, and although the concept of her working at the blindfold club would never sit easy with me, if the place hadn’t existed, they wouldn’t have found each other.
I was restless last night, thinking about Ruby so much I couldn’t sleep, and the goddamn sheets smelled like her. The alarm clock went off too early. I dragged my sorry ass into the office, hating how I felt like a mopey teenager, but the u
pside was both of my parents steered clear of me.
The email from Tariq’s attorney had arrived swiftly this morning, accepting all the terms I’d laid out for Courtney.
“Do you have any questions?” I asked. She had a pen clutched in her hand, but didn’t sign.
“No, I just . . . need a minute.” Her sad gaze drifted up to mine. “Is that okay?”
Her marriage was ending, and I mentally kicked myself for trying to rush her. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”
“I don’t know why this is so hard. Tariq and I have been done for months. We both want this.” She seemed frustrated with herself. “But signing, it’s so . . .”
“Final,” I said.
“Yeah. Exactly.”
My lack of sleep must have gotten to me. “Can I ask a personal question?” She nodded. “When did you know it was over?”
She took in a sharp breath and her gaze flew away from mine.
Shit. “I’m sorry. Please forget I asked. It’s absolutely none of my business, and—”
“He cheated on me.” She didn’t seem upset, it was more like disappointment, which made me think she’d known about it for a while. Courtney looked at her hands clasped in her lap, but her posture was strong. Like she wasn’t defeated. “It was the second time I’d caught him. He’d been so drunk after the Minnesota game, he thought he was texting his driver. Instead, he was texting me.”
I bit my tongue. I wanted to tell her what an asshole I thought her about-to-be ex-husband was, but refrained.
“So, it’s four a.m., and I’m staring at this message about how great the random hookup my husband just had was, and you know the first thought I had?”
“He’s a son of a bitch?” It was more profane than I usually got with clients, but a tame version of what I wanted to say.
A half-smile darted across her lips, then disappeared. “No, it was, what could I have done differently? What was I not giving him that he needed?”
My mouth dropped open. She was worried about what she’d done, and not the cheating bastard?