“What’s going on with you?” Stefan demanded, shaking off the calming hand Jen put on his bicep.
Lizzie forced a cough, not wanting to lie but not wanting to have the conversation she knew would follow an honest answer. She wasn’t sure where to start or if she could explain it anyway. “I don’t feel good. Allergies?”
“That’s what you’re going with?” Stefan opened the refrigerator and grabbed bottled waters. He tossed one to Jared, who caught it without looking. “Allergies?”
“She does look kind of sick.” Jared grinned.
“Don’t help me,” she snapped back, then took the first painless breath she’d had all morning.
“It wouldn’t have anything to do with the voice mails and text messages from Nic Maretti asking if you’re okay and why you won’t answer your phone, would it?”
Lizzie coughed for real, then choked on air. “Messages?”
“Yeah, messages.” He tipped his water back but his eyes never left her as he drained half the bottle.
Lizzie shrugged. “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Nic.”
“Nic’s in Hong Kong.”
Lizzie flinched. She knew where Nic was and she knew who Nic was with. Angie hadn’t been lying. A photograph of Nic and Xia Chang had appeared on an Italian gossip blog. She couldn’t read the article but she didn’t have to. There were enough photographs to tell the story.
Xia Chang was everything she was not. Tall, sleek, elegant with a thick curtain of glossy black hair and a face so beautiful, Lizzie couldn’t blame Nic.
They were at a formal black and white charity ball. Nic was dangerous in the jet black tuxedo and long black tie. Xia leaned on his arm in a white gown glossier than her hair. Lizzie couldn’t fault the dress. It skimmed her perfect figure but was neither tight nor revealing. The sheer long sleeves and high neck suited her regal bearing.
And her shoes. Lizzie had tortured herself by enlarging the photograph so she could see the understated pointy toe white pumps with razor thin black heels. They were perfect too, offering nothing for Lizzie to sneer at.
Lizzie had examined the photographs in detail, drowning in a sharp and jagged jealousy that had hacked so deep it felt like a poison she would never be able to rid herself of. With her now, it made her want to run away and never stop.
“Lizzie.” The concern in Jen’s voice dragged her back to the present.
She opened her mouth to reassure them, but nothing came out. Her throat was too tight. Breathing was starting to be an issue. She wiped her hand across her face. Great. She was crying again. Damn it.
“I’m going to kill him.” Stefan hissed.
She shook her head, managing a weak, “I’m fine.”
“You are the exact opposite of fine.”
She flinched at the harshness of Stefan’s tone. He was angry at the situation, not her, but she was so raw it still hurt. She forced her mouth into a painful smile. Her facial muscles were ready to shatter. “I don’t have time to be anything other than okay, besides, he already has a girlfriend and—”
“Wait. What?” Jen’s concern dissolve into anger. “You went to Florida with him when you knew he had a girlfriend?”
“You went to Florida with him?” Stefan exploded, then turned on Jen. “You knew she was in Florida?”
Jen’s apologetic grin didn’t help.
“What if I did?” Lizzie snapped, pulling his attention back to her. “I’m not a kid anymore and I didn’t know he had a girlfriend until Angie told me. That’s why I won’t call him back. Satisfied?”
“Angie?” Jen’s surprise caught her off guard. “She may not be the most reliable source of information, you know. You should talk to Nic.”
Should she talk to Nic? Would she be able to without humiliating herself? Not likely. “No, it’s better this way. I can’t get involved with anyone right now. I have to teach this fall and I’m trying to get into Dr. Pak’s research group. I have way too much I need to focus on.” She sucked back another ragged breath. She backed up, holding up her hands in defense when Jen tried to move toward her. “Please, don’t. I promise you. I’m going to be okay.”
She knew they didn’t believe her but before they could say anything the back door slammed open and Rogan exploded into the kitchen breathing fire and brimstone. “You! Hippie!”
“Chill.” Jared caught the envelope Rogan slammed against his chest. “What is your damage?”
“I want a divorce. Right fucking now. Do whatever it is you lawyers do.”
Lizzie relaxed, grateful all the attention had swung away from her. Then happy, fun Jared left the building. Scary Jared appeared as he flipped through the papers. “Is this for real?”
“Yeah. Delivered by special courier less than an hour ago.” Rogan caught the long neck beer Stefan tossed him.
“Divorce papers?” Lizzie swallowed. “I thought everything was okay.”
Rogan’s chin dropped. “Yeah, after I dropped you off World War III broke out. I’m done. She’s gone too far this time.”
“Adultery is hard to prove.” Jared shoved the papers back into the envelope as the room went silent.
“Adultery?” Stefan threw his empty bottle in the trash. “With who? Lizzie? Did they name her?”
“Yes.” Rogan turned toward Lizzie at the same time, regret and shame darkening his green eyes. “I’m so sorry, kiddo.”
“What?” Lizzie whispered, as she quietly stepped out of her body. “Because she saw us dancing together?”
“I’ve seen you dance, Lizzie, and it’s hot,” Jared teased.
She turned on him. “You are not helping!”
“You told me not to help you.”
Lizzie groaned as Jared grinned at her.
Jen grabbed the papers from Jared. “It really names Lizzie? Do people still do that? Has Angie lost her mind?”
“It’s not true.” Her stomach twisted. “No one will believe it.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Jared was serious again. “With everything going on with Judge Robicheaux and your family, if the news media gets a whiff of this, it’ll be all over the news. The media will lap it up because it will keep the Robicheaux case interesting in the news.”
“So now you’re a media expert too?” Lizzie groaned, sitting down hard on a barstool. This couldn’t be happening.
“I won’t fight her for custody if she agrees to stay in New Orleans and we can work out visitation,” Rogan said.
“You can’t do that,” Lizzie said. “I don’t care what they say about me. I don’t want you to lose your son because of me.”
Rogan shook his head. “It’s not because of you.”
“No,” Stefan snapped. “This is all Andreas Maretti bullshit. I’ll bet you money he’s behind it. He’s angry we got the Volikovneft deal. Now, he’s bailed Judge Robicheaux out of jail.”
“You’re not serious?” Lizzie was on her feet again.
“Completely serious.” Jen sighed. “It happened while you were in Florida, but so far he’s been keeping a low profile.”
“He’s not going to try anything else,” Stefan said. “The whole world is watching him.”
“No, he’s just regrouping.” Jared added. “My brother is building a hell of a case against him but it’s not going to be easy. Everybody owes that old man favors.” Jared straightened all the paperwork up, put it back in the envelope, then checked his watch. “And speaking of my brother, Grant is probably on the golf course. I’ll take this to him. He loves me when I interrupt his golf game.”
“I don’t want Rogan to lose custody.” Lizzie whispered.
“He won’t,” Stefan snapped. “You were right not to take Nic’s calls. Stay away from him, Lizzie. That whole family is nothing but trouble.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Who the hell is that?” Stefan groaned as Jen rolled away from him after the doorbell went off for the third time. “This had better be good.”
“I’ll go.” She grabbed her robe from the flo
or where Stefan had thrown it earlier. “It’s probably Jared.”
The doorbell chimed again.
“Fuck.” He swung off the bed and grabbed his jeans, wincing as he eased up the zipper. Whoever was pressing their doorbell was seriously risking their life. “No, stay here. It’s not the hippie. He walks in when he wants to.” He grabbed his T-shirt then headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time while he pulled the shirt over his head.
He jerked the door open and his head snapped back. He hadn’t expected Nic Maretti on his front porch looking all impatient and aggravated. Stefan leaned against the doorframe blocking the entrance. He was not about to let Maretti in. “You got some kind of death wish, Maretti?”
Nic’s expression didn’t flicker. “Where is she?”
Stefan shook his head, fingers squeezing into a fist and resisting the urge to plant it in Nic’s face. It wouldn’t take much to wipe his bored expression off his face. Instead, he said, “Not here.”
“Stefan.” Jen slid her arm around his waist, reminding him to be civilized. “Come in, Nic, I’ll make coffee.”
Stefan huffed, his anger fading now that she was touching him. Still pride demanded he put up a protest. “This is not a social call. You don’t have to make him coffee.”
She backed away from him and folded her arms across her chest, giving him a fierce look. He should deck Maretti, take her back upstairs and finish what she’d started. Then she raised her eyebrow at him, ready to take him on and he forgot everything except how much he loved her.
He stepped back away from the door and waved Nic in. “Yeah, fine. Whatever. Come on in, it’s all about the Southern Hospitality at the Sellers house.”
Nic had not slept. He wasn’t hungry yet, somehow he found himself in the most amazing kitchen he’d ever seen while Jen scrambled eggs and Sellers prowled around, grumbling that he didn’t do coffee.
“How do you like your eggs, Nic?” she asked, ignoring her husband.
“Just salt.”
“No cheese?” Jen asked, a strange smile on her face. “Bacon?”
“No cheese and definitely not bacon. I don’t eat meat.”
“You don’t eat meat?” Stefan stopped dumping coffee in the coffee pot and glanced over his shoulder.
“No.”
Jen and Stefan exchanged a strange look and tried not to laugh.
Nic did not have time for this.
“I want bacon.” The scruffy musician Nic had caught Lizzie dancing with at Trick’s walked into the kitchen. He was half-awake as he headed straight for the coffee. He pulled a coffee mug down from a cabinet. Did he live here too?
“What the hell are you doing here?” Stefan demanded.
Unconcerned, the guy shrugged as he poured himself of cup of coffee, sipped it then spit it out in the sink despite Jen’s horrified protests. “You call this coffee? Jen, you know better than to let him play with the coffee pot.”
“Screw you.” Stefan jerked the refrigerator open and grabbed a bottle of water. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”
“I was hiding in the Carriage house until you two finished your thing. About time too, I’m starving. Oh, hey, Nic.”
“Have we met?” Nic asked, not impressed by the musician’s sudden grin.
“Jared Marshall. You loaned me a bunch of money. Thanks, by the way. You should come by the bakery if you’re going to be in town awhile. Check out the best investment you ever made.”
Nic had trouble reconciling this unkempt boy with the brilliant business plan he’d read. Marshall had been all over Lizzie at Trick’s but today he looked different. His hair was all gone. “You’re Jared Marshall?”
“Soon to be the late Jared Marshall,” Stefan grumbled.
“Chill, Sellers. It’s not like I was in the house. Unless you want some pointers.”
Jen’s hand flattened on Stefan’s chest before he could reach the younger guy. “Cool it, Jared.”
“What?” Jared laughed. “I want extra cheese. Give me that, you’re doing it wrong.” He grabbed the skillet away from Jen and began folding the eggs exactly the same way she had. “Go stand by your man before he rips my head off. I don’t want to die on an empty stomach.”
“My eggs had better be perfect,” Stefan warned him, dropping down on a barstool. “Extra cheese.”
“Extra cheese,” Jared mimicked him in a little kid’s voice. Then scraped the eggs onto a plate. “Hey, these are plain. Is Lizzie here?”
“Those are for Nic.” Jen pushed the plate across the island to Nic. “You want coffee, Nic?” She poured him a mug before he could refuse it.
“She’s not here? Where is she?” Nic had no intentions of eating the fluffy mass of yellow on his plate. Then his stomach grumbled so he had a few bites. The eggs were perfect and the coffee was delicious. Then he realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten anything.
They all ignored his question again. Stefan stared suspiciously at the plate of eggs Jared handed him. “You better not have spit in them.”
“Dude, you’ve been watching me the whole time.”
“Ignore them,” Jen said. “I live for the day they grow up.”
Nic set his coffee cup down. “This is all very charming but I need to know where Lizzie is.”
Jared grinned, nodding at a brown envelope lying in the middle of the island. “There’s your first clue.”
All eyes were on him again, but this time no one was laughing. He reached for the envelope, knowing instinctively the contents were a game changer. When he pulled the papers out and flipped through them, every cell in his body turned inside out.
“You didn’t know?” Jen asked.
“No.”
“This is Andreas, isn’t it?” Stefan nodded at the paperwork Nic was crushing in his hands.
“No one else would be this stupid. Does Lizzie know about this?”
“Yes,” Jen answered him.
“She and Rogan ran away together.” Stefan smirked.
“Yeah,” Jared said. “They’re tired of hiding their love.”
“Who are we to stand in their way?” Stefan added, then he and hippie bumped fists.
Nic decided neither would live long enough to grow up. “You do realize Andreas will have a private investigator following them? Angie would never have signed off on this without some sort of proof.”
“Proof?” Stefan’s barstool slid several feet away from him as he came to his feet in one threatening motion. “Fuck him and his private investigator. There is no proof. Your father is done fucking with my family. It’s bad enough he’s bankrolling that snake of a judge but if he and Angie try to drag my sister through the mud, we will rain hell down on all of you. If Lizzie wanted Rogan, they’d be married with kids by now. They’d be a whole lot happier with each other than tangled up with your family.”
Nic considered everything Sellers said, his mind sharp and calm. When Sellers finished, he waited. The silence stretched until it was at a breaking point. Nic had learned a long time ago that sometimes the best negotiation tool was to say nothing and Sellers was not a negotiator. It was one of the things Nic had always liked about him and his loyalty to his family. Sellers was a good guy and he was not wrong.
“Fuck you,” Sellers snapped, backing down.
Nic blinked, his voice calm and cool. “You were expecting me to argue with you?”
“No.” Stefan’s voice was icy with disdain. “I expect you to leave my sister the hell alone.”
“That is not going to happen. I’m going to get Lizzie then I’ll deal with Andreas. Now where are they?”
“Orange Beach,” Jen said. “Lizzie likes to go to the beach when she’s upset.”
Nic inclined his head. “Thank you. Do not call them and warn them I’m on the way. You owe me, Sellers,” he reminded Stefan and the younger man backed down.
“This was a good idea.” Lizzie sighed as the sea breeze and the sound of waves hitting the shore washed over the balcony.
&n
bsp; “Yeah.” Rogan joined her on the balcony. He pulled one of the chairs up to the railing, sat down and kicked back, resting his heels on the metal ledge. “You going to be okay?”
Lizzie nodded, pushing the hair the breeze flattened across her face behind her ears.
“I’ll make sure she leaves you out of the divorce, kiddo. I promise.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She sat down next to him. Tired and wiped out from the drive, she was too restless to go to bed but too exhausted to do anything constructive. “It’s okay.”
Rogan sighed. “You know, the Marettis aren’t like us. They look down on the rest of us like we’re their subjects.”
“Nic’s not like that.”
“Nic’s worse. Eventually he’ll be the De Santis heir, so don’t think he doesn’t watch the world from his ivory tower.”
“I used to think he was disconnected,” she said. “But Nic’s more complicated.”
If he did watch the world from an ivory tower, it’s because the people who should have loved him and grounded him had failed him. Not because he believed he was better than everyone else. Guilt stabbed at her stomach. She wanted to be the person to break through the walls surrounding him but she knew she would destroy herself in the process.
The doorbell rang and Lizzie jumped up, eager to brush off the sudden remorse. Maybe she should have answered those calls. “I’ll get it.”
“Bring me back a beer.” He caught her hand as she brushed past him.
“Okay, but you’re only having one more.”
“Whatever.”
“We’re not getting drunk,” she called over her shoulder as she opened the front door.
She turned back to the open door and her heart stopped. They were so getting drunk. As fast as possible.
“Do you want me to set them down for you?” the delivery man asked, smiling at her from around a monstrous bouquet of red roses as long as her arm.
“Sure.” She stood aside so he could set them on the kitchen’s raised breakfast bar. They were blood red and the condo was already filling with their sickening scent.
“Thank you.”
Solving for Nic (Self Made Men...Southern Style Book 2) Page 17