Classy shit as usual, too classy for my new-money mother who thought she owned the entire fucking world, me included. I would’ve felt guilty about the wedding and all my dad’s money down the drain, but I couldn’t care less. Dad had only taken time off from screwing his latest hot mess. Dropping a few hundred thousand on my fake wedding was as insignificant as if he’d thrown a quarter into a wishing well and hoped for the best.
And now, because Charlie had fled like a thief in the night, I was in the middle of an epic shit-storm. Complete with swirling, gale-force winds. A veritable hurricane of turbulent feces.
Robert Raminsky had pulled out of the housing project. He’d pulled out. It was over. My last chance to show Charlie that I cared about her had flown clean out the fucking window and there was nothing I could do to bring it back.
I’d lost the only thing I’d ever truly cared about. I wanted to vomit all over my mother’s Michael Kors cape. Which would have been a blessing. Some trends were not appropriate for aging women.
“Hello, child, are you there?” she demanded as she tapped her manicured fingertips on the white tablecloth. “Do pay attention when I’m talking to you. Nolan Abraham Banks. You’re my only child, and you’re acting as if you were born in a barn. I’m starting to think that redneck woman has rubbed off on you.”
I shifted my gaze from the chandelier hanging over the center of the dining room and to her face.
Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun that probably lifted her face more than the plastic surgeons had. She wore a white coat-dress with her black cape flowing over the top. I didn’t know the name for it, but it was absolutely spotless, of course. Black and white. Right and wrong.
Good and evil.
Expensive white linen compensated for the stained and jaded personality beneath it.
“What’s up, Mother?”
Anne blinked and sighed as if my colloquialisms deeply offended her. The first signs of age hit her forehead with her grimace. “What’s up,” she sniffed, “is that you clearly can’t control your baser urges and have squandered your opportunities at Banks Realty. The firm your father handed to you on a silver platter. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d purposefully done this.”
“Thanks,” I replied and lifted my beer off the tabletop. I tipped it and clicked the neck of the bottle against the rim of her glass. The pink liquid inside splashed over the edge.
“I do, however, know that your bumbling is accidental,” she soothed. Her fake tone contradicted by her venomous words. “It’s unfortunate that I didn’t raise a son who knew the difference between the help and a hooker.”
“Don’t talk about my fiancée like that,” I growled. Mother or not, I had to sit on my right hand to keep from throat punching her. All of a sudden, I felt like the worst kind of asshole. The kind like my mother. Someone who thought that money issued a license to treat everyone who didn’t have as much like the shit beneath your shoe.
I needed to get away. Get the hell out of New York and discover who I was as a man. Not as a Banks. Shit. I didn’t even want to be me anymore.
“She’s not your fiancée anymore, Nolan. And she never was. Clearly, she dulled your mind by spreading her plump thighs, but that’s over now. You’re never to see her again.” She pursed her lips and waited, her eyes glaring over her surgically perfect nose. “Do you hear me? Never.”
“Excuse me? Can you repeat that, because I think you just gave your adult son an order, a right you lost on my eighteenth birthday.” I twitched in my seat and hoped she’d back off so I wouldn’t be tempted to cause a scene. Even though my lunch was ruined, I had no desire to upset the other patrons. “If I do anything you tell me to, it’s because I’m humoring you.”
She sniffed. “I shall ignore that remark for the sake of where this conversation is headed.”
“The bottom of the sewage dump that doubles as the Hudson River?” I countered.
“I plan to take a more active role in the business from now on, Nolan,” she announced with her eyes twinkling like a woman half her age. She was getting off on this. “Your father and I have agreed that you need to be kept in check. While that, ahem, woman, and I use that description loosely, couldn’t manage to do it because she was too much of a temptation for you, I will.” Anne smiled, then picked up the cloth napkin from next to her plate and dabbed at the base of her cocktail glass. “And I’m extremely good at what I do. Just ask anyone at my bridge club.”
“No,” I said as I slammed a palm down on the table so hard the silver and glassware shook under the pressure. “You will not keep tabs on me. You will not step one Manolo-clad stiletto heel in my office. It’s my domain, and it’s off limits.”
“You don’t have a say in this. If you want to keep your position at Banks Realty and the bulk of your trust fund until you’re thirty, you will do as your father says and ipso facto, what I say from this moment on. Do you understand?” Anne sniffed, and that grin grew wider. Triumphant. She resembled a pit bull that had drawn first blood.
Fuck her and fuck all of this. I had to get hold of Dad and find out if this was true. I fumbled around in my pocket for my cell.
“You can speak to your father all you want, young man, but this is happening. I assume you heard that Robert has pulled out of the housing project?” Anne leaned forward, a grin growing obscenely large across her face. “And you know what that means. Your father is no longer in your corner.”
I froze and glared at her. That project had nothing to do with her. She wasn’t involved in it, shit, she didn’t have the right to think about it. Yet here she was, lording it over me like a female Donald Trump minus the comb-over.
“That’s my business, Mother,” I said, fisting my fingers to avoid slamming the table a second time. I’d already drawn the attention of a group of Wall Street brokers. “I’ll be dealing with that personally.”
Anne chuckled. “If you think getting that project back will endear you to your father, your godfather, or your two-bit floozy, then I wish you all the luck in the world.” Her tone was thick with sarcasm laced disgust as if the mere thought of Charlie sickened her. “I doubt she even cares about the project. She wanted a meal ticket, and when she realized this wasn’t a real wedding, and she wouldn’t stand to benefit financially, she pulled out.”
“You couldn’t be more wrong,” I replied and actually laughed at her. Charlie wasn’t interested in my money or me for that matter. But she did care about that project more than anything. Charlie’s heart was in the right place. And at least she had one.
“Oh, don’t worry, dear, I don’t blame her. That particular investment was a total waste of time. It wouldn’t have generated enough revenue for the Banks Realty portfolio. Who cares about a few houses for single parents when there’s a New York skyline to paint with the Banks name?” Anne lifted her cocktail and drained the dregs before placing it delicately on the maroon linen tablecloth once again.
“Jesus Christ,” I said and stood. My beer tipped over and fell to the polished floorboards. It shattered and sprayed the remnants everywhere. At least thirty pairs of eyes fell on me with disdain. And I couldn’t have given a shit. These were no longer my people. This was no longer my mother.
Dead to me. All of them.
“Nolan,” Anne said and frowned. She glanced around at the other diners. “Sit down this instant. As usual, you’re embarrassing me.”
“You know what, Mother?” I said, hissing the last word. “You know jack squat about Charlie and even less about real estate. I’ll get that project back, even if it’s the last thing I do at Banks Realty. Even if I have to dig ditches or work at McDonalds, I’ll never take another dime from you that I didn’t earn.”
I strode past her, ignoring her gasp and the watchful eyes of everyone anxious to see the mighty fall. Flipping open the double doors of the restaurant, I glanced around. Seeing no one, I doubled over and inhaled a ragged breath in an attempt to sweep the nausea from my gut. I was done with her shit.
Done.
Charlie was all that mattered now. Loving her was the only time in my miserable, fucked-up life that I’d felt whole. Like I was a man, and I was going somewhere. That I could make a difference. She could heal the burns on my soul. My own personal feminine salve. I’d get her back and then, damn it, I’d never let her go again.
Chapter 4
Charlie
I sipped the glass of water and stared at Melissa. My friend and roommate had her phone on the table between us and scrolled through articles on one of those viral websites I loathed. The ones that received a million hits daily. And ruined lives.
“Here’s another one,” she said. “Charlie de Monaco returns to New York after brief sabbatical. Will she hook up with Nolan Banks again?”
“How do they know I came back?” I asked and glanced at my untouched plate of stuffed clams. It’d seemed like a good idea to order them, but the constant stream of articles and messages had dampened my appetite. When I’d decided that staying in Atlanta would be akin to hiding my head in the sand and leaving my ass exposed, I realized I needed to dust myself off and start again. I just knew I could make a difference here in the city. But now… I was starting to doubt myself again, and it seemed that shitty feeling had taken up residence, never to be evicted thanks to Nolan Banks.
“I don’t know, Charles In Charge, but it’s everywhere. Seriously,” Melissa said, resorting to my old nickname as she tapped through to another article. “Here’s one speculating whether you were only in it for the money. Oh, and another one that claims you’re secretly pregnant with Nolan’s love child, waiting for a payday. And–”
“Enough,” I said as I groaned deep in my chest, then held up my hand. “Please, it’s enough dealing with the truth.” I sighed and chased the clams around in my plate, using my fork to spear and play with them. “I knew I shouldn’t have come back to the city. I fucking knew it. Atlanta’s home. This wouldn’t be happening there.”
Melissa sat back and folded her arms across her chest. Her gaze darted from my face to her smartphone’s screen and back again. “I disagree. The Charlie I know faces challenges head on, and it’s good to have you back. So I’m selfish. Shoot me. And look, I don’t want you to worry about rent, okay? I’ll cover you until you can get on your feet again.”
“I – that’s really sweet, but I’m not sure I’ll ever get back on my feet in New York.” I finally picked up a clam and nibbled on the crumbed flesh. Nope, still not hungry. A one-way ticket home to peach pie and corn fritters. I could almost feel my hips widening.
“What are you talking about?” Melissa asked. “You can’t give up this easily. You, like, have to get Nolan back. That’s the whole reason you came back, isn’t it?”
I blinked. “What are you talking about? I have zero desire to get back with Nolan.”
“Oh, come on.” Melissa rolled her eyes dramatically, then tapped her phone screen. “Don’t try to bullshit me, Charlie. Why would you come back unless you wanted to be with him?”
I should’ve expected this from her. Despite being roomies, Melissa and I hadn’t known each other that long. She didn’t have the foggiest clue as to my checkered past. The closest she’d come to a loving gesture was hooking me up on a date with a guy who was obsessed with her rather than me.
“I came back because I won’t let my past mistakes define me. I’m a brilliant lawyer, and I plan on serving local communities and businesses with my skill. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve wanted to make a difference in the world. Now’s the time.”
Melissa rolled her eyes a second time.
“That’s just a cover, and you know it. Secretly, even if it’s on a subconscious level, you want to get back with him.” Melissa leaned back, picked up her vodka cranberry and swigged it. “And nobody blames you. He’s a total catch. Hot, loose, wild, rich. And you’re in love with him. Any dipshit with eyes can see it. And I have two.” She batted her eyelashes at me to accompany her annoying tirade.
“Let me stop you right there, because there’s not a single level on which that didn’t offend me. Seriously? Melissa, I don’t want to be with Nolan. I want to be with myself and make wise career choices.” For a change, damn it. Falling for Nolan was one of the choices I’d never forget or forgive myself for, mostly because I knew better but did it anyway.
“You can say that all you want, but I know the truth. You don’t have to lie to me.” Melissa drank deeply from her glass.
Maybe this line of crap would be true for her. Melissa didn’t like to be alone, and anyone with a pulse would do in a pinch. And a man like Nolan, one with status, money and the looks to go with it, that would launch her straight into a man-crazed orbit circling around him until she landed on his planet.
I placed my fork on the plate and drank water to keep myself from snapping at my roommate. The only friend I had in New York. I hated being beholden to people, and that was exactly what I was to Melissa, because the truth was, I didn’t have the money to pay rent right away. I sighed at the pathetic state of my life.
“I should just head back to Atlanta. Regroup. Spend more time with my dad.”
A hand landed on my shoulder, tan and masculine. I looked up and met the confused gaze of Chase Bradenton. Under normal circumstances, I’d be excited to see him. But I couldn’t take another lecture from Nolan’s cheerleading squad. Not today.
“No, you really shouldn’t leave,” Chase said. He let go of me immediately, then raised his palms. “Sorry to interrupt. I overheard you from my table, and I knew that Nolan wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t stop you from running off again. He’s got it for you, Charlie. Bad. I’ve never seen him like this, and we’ve known each other since grade school.”
“If I want to run off, that’s my choice,” I replied, but my voice didn’t hold heat. Chase’s expression betrayed the fact that he knew it. Nolan’s best friend and I had gotten on well, the few times we’d hung out. He was a good guy. Emotionally bruised and totally in Nolan’s pocket, but still someone I didn’t have to be afraid to be around.
“Charlie, you can’t leave,” Chase insisted. “Raminsky pulled out of the housing project. I figure you’re the only one who can convince him–”
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” Melissa said, rising from her seat and sticking out her hand. Jesus Christ. Not this again.
Chase looked at her as if he hadn’t noticed her before. But soon after, his eyes swept her from head to toe, and those same eyes held a spark of interest. “Oh right, I’m Chase Bradenton.”
“Charmed.” Melissa batted her eyelids at him. A pathetic display of flirtatious dramatics that someone with an IQ of fifty would pick up on. And Chase was smart. Too smart for this manipulation.
I slipped from my seat as they bantered back and forth and snuck off to the bathroom, tail firmly tucked between my legs. I didn’t want to talk to Chase. Or Raminsky.
Or Nolan.
Chapter 5
Charlie
Chase was probably right. That fact alone irritated the living shit out of me. I didn’t want him to be right. I didn’t want to be involved with Nolan again and staring up at Raminsky’s office building made my insides twine into a ball. Why did Frank de Monaco have to go and raise a feisty little girl who always did the right thing? Especially when single parents were involved?
My stomach now sat in the kind of twisted orb a cat would bat around, then attack afterwards, claws and teeth and…
“Calm down,” I whispered aloud and then glanced around to make sure no one had seen me, thinking I was a crazy person. Raminsky’s secretary had been sweet and totally willing to set up the appointment for me. That had to mean something. Surely the older man couldn’t have given up on the project if he wanted to meet with me.
Unless he was like everyone else and just wanted to convince me to get back with Nolan Banks for the sake of Banks Realty and Grantham Bank’s bottom line.
I squared my shoulders and let myself into the
building. The receptionist had me wait for just five minutes, then called me through to see Mr. Raminsky himself.
“Charlie,” he said, rising from his chair. He rushed around the polished walnut desk and stopped in front of me, wearing a huge smile. He grasped hold of my shoulders and looked me up and down as if he’d see something different. Like I’d have a puncture wound or a scar from leaving Nolan behind.
I had a wound so deep it could rival The Grand Canyon, but it had penetrated my soul and couldn’t be seen with the naked eye. But damn, how I could feel it.
Every. Single. Second.
“You look wonderful,” he said, then swept me into a bear hug and patted my back once. “I was worried about you. So worried. So was Mrs. Raminsky.”
“I’m fine.” That wasn’t exactly the truth, but I’d have to fit into it for now. The more I told myself I was fine, the sooner it would become the truth. Fake it until you make it, some bullshit liar once said.
“Please, have a seat,” Raminsky said and gestured to the chair in front of his desk.
I strode to it and sank into the cushy leather upholstery, wiggling my rear until I felt a little more comfortable. Although I’d rather be facing the gallows than this meeting.
“Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Or maybe something a little bit stronger?” He winked and tapped the side of his nose before walking to the shelves behind his desk. He clicked a panel, and it slid back to reveal a bar. I’d never pegged him for the hidden compartment kind of man.
What was this, a James Bond movie?
“This is my guilty little secret,” he said with a wink and a flourish. “A glass of bourbon to wash down the worries or stress of the day. With all that I have to deal with, who would blame me?”
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