by Joss Wood
“I saw you stomping away from Matt Velez. Did you have words with him? Did he upset you?”
Emily snorted. She wished Matt Velez was the sum total of her problems. She could handle him with one hand behind her back. “Like I would allow Falling Brook’s part-time lothario to upset me. I’ve been calling you and I left a bunch of messages.”
“Phone died and I had company,” Gina replied.
Situation normal. Not knowing where to start, Emily lifted her hand and showed Gina the solitaire diamond ring on her finger. Gina gripped her hand, confused. “What? What the hell is this?”
“I am, apparently, engaged to Nico Morris.”
Gina stared at her until a smile hit her eyes. “Okay, that’s funny. Like you’d allow that toad to put a ring on your finger.”
Oh, how Emily wished it was a joke. And she didn’t blame Gina for not believing her, as she’d told Nico on their last date a few weeks ago that they could only be friends, that she wasn’t interested in a relationship with him or anyone else. She’d kept her explanation simple, not bothering to explain that she was perfectly content being on her own, that she’d witnessed the devastation love could cause and she wanted no part of it. Emily clearly remembered how emotionally eviscerated she felt when her mom left, withdrawing her love.
Marriage, children...a life intertwined with someone who might leave her swinging in the wind wasn’t an option. She wasn’t that brave. Or that stupid.
“Nope, it’s his ring and this is what I’m doing.”
Gina stared at her and when Emily didn’t smile, she lifted her hand to her mouth. “Why the hell did you say yes? You told him that you weren’t interested in him, didn’t you?”
And that, Emily was convinced, was the catalyst for his crazy proposal. Nico wasn’t a man who could deal with rejection.
Gina took her finger and tried to pull the ring off. “Take this off and tell him that you had a rush of blood to the brain and that you can’t, won’t marry him. What the hell is wrong with you, Emily?”
Emily curled her fingers and tugged her hand from Gina’s grip.
“He’s had affairs with married women, been involved in some dodgy deals and nobody can trust a word he says. He’s beyond redemption,” Gina muttered. She glared at Emily. “I can understand him wanting to marry you but why the hell would you say yes?”
And here came the sticky part, the part she couldn’t, shouldn’t, reveal. But she had to tell someone and Gina was her go-to person, the only person she could trust with this information. She couldn’t run to her dad—she’d never been able to—and she hadn’t had any contact with her mom since she did a runner twelve-plus years ago.
She was, as always, on her own. Well, apart from Gina...
“You can’t tell anyone, Gee, not one soul, but... He’s blackmailing me.”
Gina frowned, obviously puzzled. “What?”
Emily repeated her statement. “Last night he came by, told me that I’m what he wants in a wife and that he loves the idea of being married to Falling Brook’s angel—” Emily pulled a disgusted face “—and marrying me will improve his standing in the community.”
Gina frowned. “But blackmail implies that he has something on you.”
And he did. “Nico went with me to Brook Village once, to meet Davy, and Dad was there. Dad was in the coffee shop, sitting with another parent of a resident, a guy we know by the name of John. He and Dad were deep in discussion and I was thrilled because, as you know, Dad doesn’t have friends or interact with people outside the office.”
“I don’t understand how this relates to you being blackmailed,” Gina complained, gesturing for her to hurry up with her explanation.
“John, as Nico told me, is the English name for Ivan. The man Dad was talking to was Ivan Sokolov, the head of the Russian mob up and down the East Coast, from Maine to Miami. Unknown to me, Nico managed to take a series of photographs of him and Dad enjoying a cozy chat.”
Gina threw up her hands, confused. “I don’t get it.”
“Nico wants to marry me and if I don’t agree, he’s going to start a rumor, backed up by the photographs, that Arnott’s Wealth Management is laundering money for the Russian mob. Dad, despite being a workaholic and a social recluse, is incredibly well respected and has built a business on honesty and integrity and the slightest hint of being associated with the mob will destroy our reputation.”
Gina’s mouth fell open. “You’re joking.”
Emily shook her head. She wished she was.
“Why is Nico doing this?” Gina cried, tears in her eyes.
Emily looked away, also feeling the burn of a fast-approaching crying jag. But tears wouldn’t help; they never had before.
“He told me, quite openly, that he doesn’t like being rejected and that he’s determined to have me, one way or another. He’s also quite fond of the idea of marrying the town princess, someone respectable and who is an integral part of the Falling Brook community.”
Emily blew out a long breath. “I’m not, obviously, going to marry him. I’d rather die. I only agreed to wear his ring because I need time to think.”
Gina dropped to sit on the edge of the chair. “God, Em, what are you going to do?”
Emily looked down at the ring, scowling. “Play along until I find a way to extricate myself from the situation and save Arnott’s without putting our reputation at risk. And I will, have no doubt. I’m not marrying Nico Morris, or anyone else.”
Marriage, after all, was just another word for adopting an overgrown man-child with issues. Not for her, thank you very much.
And Morris was an idiot if he thought she’d just nod and acquiesce. She was stronger and tougher than her good-girl reputation and angelic face suggested.
Two
An hour later—after inspecting his undamaged car and tearing a strip off the kid for his unauthorized use of his expensive vehicle—Matt returned to the ballroom and handed his ticket to the bubbly blonde standing at the door to the function room, refusing her offer of a free cocktail. The hostess offered to accompany him into the room and Matt didn’t miss the interested gleam in her eye. If he hadn’t encountered Emily earlier, he might’ve considered her offer for some conversation, a couple of drinks and the silent invitation for bed-based fun later.
But, while he wouldn’t object to some no-strings-attached sex, she wasn’t the woman he wanted to have no-strings sex with. Matt smoothed down his tie, looking around the packed room, and scowled when he couldn’t see Emily.
This was classic déjà vu: the same ballroom and the same woman on his mind.
He needed a drink so Matt headed toward the bar, greeting people along the way. He’d grown up in this town—albeit on the wrong side of the tracks—and was a familiar face in Falling Brook. It didn’t bother Matt that many of the residents of Falling Brook remembered him for being the town’s bad boy, the rebel, the kid with a chip as big as a redwood on his shoulder. It did bother him that whenever he moved in circles such as these, a part of him still felt like he should perform or impress to feel valued.
He’d rather die than admit it but, here in Falling Brook, despite being known as one of the youngest CEOs in a dynamic Manhattan investment firm, he occasionally still felt like that lost kid, eclipsed by his older brother and seldom seen by his parents and teachers.
For a while he’d given up, run wild, but when he went away to college, his innate competitive streak—and not having to compete against a once-in-a-lifetime genius—shot him to the top of his class. Winning became his drug of choice and being anything less than exceptional was unacceptable. He succeeded at nearly everything he tried.
Except for love and relationships.
Matt didn’t play that game at all. Love was a tool his family wielded, or in his case, never used at all.
It was better to keep his distance, to operate on
the surface when it came to relationships. It was far easier to exit the shallows than fight the currents in the open ocean.
At the bar, Matt ordered a whiskey and looked around, wondering where Emily Arnott was. Matt pulled a face; the room was filled with gorgeous women but he couldn’t get his mind off Emily.
She was like a particularly annoying, sexy-as-sin itch he couldn’t get rid of. Maybe if he stopped avoiding her and made an active effort to get her into bed—for a night or for a weekend—he could stop fantasizing about her. He was an experienced guy and he knew that the reality was never as good as his imagination but, in Emily Arnott’s case, he needed to test the theory to believe it.
But, judging by her cold and snarky attitude earlier, he had a snowball’s chance in hell of that happening.
Shit.
“Matt.”
Matt turned slowly, instantly recognizing the voice of Joshua Lowell. He’d thrown his hat in the ring as a replacement for Joshua Lowell’s job, the CEO position at Black Crescent. After a few meetings with Joshua, he was waiting on his decision. An offer, so he’d heard, had been made to another top contender, but the guy had turned it down—all good news for Matt. He wasn’t sure he would take the job but Matt liked to keep his options open.
“Joshua.” Matt shook Joshua’s hand and gestured to the bar. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Joshua nodded, ordered a whiskey and tapped a long finger on the surface of the bar. “How’s it going?”
Matt shrugged. “Always good.”
Matt noticed Nico Morris approaching the bar and deliberately turned his back on his one-time, incredibly annoying colleague. Ignoring Morris, which was not difficult, Matt turned his attention back to Joshua. They exchanged casual conversation about mutual acquaintances and Matt knew that Joshua was waiting for him to ask whether he’d come to a decision about the CEO position at Black Crescent. Matt never did what was expected so he just handed Joshua a cool smile.
“I’m still debating who would be best to take over from me and I hope to make a final decision soon,” Joshua eventually answered Matt’s unasked question.
“I gathered. But we both know that I’m the best qualified, have great instincts and have the track record to prove it.” It wasn’t a boast; he could fully back up any claims he made.
“Yeah, I’m fully aware that MJR Investing’s profits have tripled since you became CEO.”
“That’s my job.” One he was damn good at. Matt smiled. “I’d hire me if I was you.”
One of the reasons he’d been hoping for an offer from Black Crescent was because he was about to renegotiate his contract with MJR Investing. An offer from a rival firm would make his board of directors that much more amenable to his demands of a significant salary increase, more company stock and, most important, more autonomy.
Matt decided it was a good time to change the subject. “Congratulations on your engagement.”
Joshua’s smile reached the eyes that immediately went to Sophie, his fiancée, standing across the room. “Thanks. We’re happy.”
“Have you started painting again?” Matt asked, genuinely interested.
Joshua grimaced. “I’m so out of practice.”
Joshua excused himself to find his fiancée, taking another whiskey and Sophie’s champagne with him. Matt was about to start working the room when a hard hand gripped his shoulder. He spun around and relaxed when Zane Patterson stepped into the space Joshua Lowell had vacated.
Matt and Zane could trace their friendship back to high school, to when they’d both attended the regional high school instead of the exclusive Falling Brook Prep.
“Still no news on the CEO offer?” Zane asked after ordering a drink from the very busy barman.
Matt shook his head, frustrated. “I’m in a holding position. I can’t push for more from MJR until I have a solid offer from Black Crescent. Damn, it’s frustrating.”
“Yeah, patience was never your thing,” Zane commented, lifting his glass in a silent toast.
Matt pushed back his suit jacket to slide his hands into his suit pockets, thinking that Zane looked happier than he did last month. Like so many other people in Falling Brook, Vernon Lowell’s disappearance, along with a hefty chunk of Black Crescent’s clients’ money, deeply affected Zane. Although it had been fifteen years since the Black Crescent Hedge Fund collapsed, its effects still reverberated throughout the community. Matt knew that Sophie’s fifteenth-anniversary article painting Josh Lowell as a superhero for rebuilding Black Crescent made Zane fume. He’d freely offered his own insights and photographs to the reporter. He’d also passed along a bombshell DNA test showing Joshua Lowell to be the father of a little girl—but that never made the article. But it didn’t matter since the news had already hit the Falling Brook rumor mill.
Matt, because he wasn’t the type to beat around the bush, looked Zane in the eye. “The town is speculating wildly, saying you know who sent you the DNA test but you’re just being coy.”
Zane sighed and shrugged. “I genuinely have no idea who sent it to me. I know why they did it—my hatred for the Lowells isn’t exactly a secret. The person with the report knew I could be counted on to pass it along.”
Matt heard the regret in Zane’s voice and a touch of embarrassment. He knew Zane, happy at last and in a relationship with his best friend’s sister, would like to put the Lowells and his past behind him. Matt didn’t blame him. He preferred not to think of the past either.
Matt always could multitask and he continued to chat to Zane while monitoring the ebb and flow of the room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until Matt’s eyes flicked over to the door and Zane’s voice faded away as Emily Arnott stepped into the room.
And everything else in the room faded... God, she was lovely. And he wanted her more than he needed his heart to beat, his lungs to take in air.
Zane bumped Matt’s shoulder with his own, pulling him out of his fantasies of a naked Emily with her legs wrapped around his hips and back into the noisy room. “I cannot believe she is going to marry Nico Morris.”
It took a few seconds for his words to make sense, but when they did, Matt wanted to, but couldn’t, laugh at Zane’s joke. Because he had to be jesting; no way was Emily going to marry that algae-eating pond scum and his ex-colleague, the man who’d made Matt’s life hell for two years until Morris left MJR Investing.
“That’s not even remotely funny, Patterson.”
Zane frowned. “Damn right, it’s not. Nico is a sleazeball.”
Matt’s heart plummeted to his toes. “You’re not joking?”
“I never joke about Morris,” Zane said, his expression grim, gesturing to Emily who now stood next to Morris, his arm around her slim waist.
None of this made sense. Why would someone like Emily marry someone like Nico Morris? Nico was one of the least-popular people in Falling Brook and for good reason. He lied, he cheated and he’d amassed a list of enemies as long as his spine. While Matt collected and acted on information he received, he never used said information as a carrot or a stick. Nico, by comparison, used every dirty trick in the book.
Their animosity went back to when Nico was still employed by MJR Investing, before he left the company to go out on his own. Matt was on the fast track while Nico’s prospects for career advancement had hit the ceiling. Nico spread rumors about him and actively tried to sabotage his career.
Morris had been a constant pain in his ass back then but Matt was, mostly, over his childish antics.
But Nico having Emily Arnott, the woman he considered to be the one who got away, was completely unacceptable.
Matt was the one with the glittering career, the fast cars and the fat bank accounts, so why was he even bothering to compete with Morris? Maybe it was because competition was in his blood and he hated feeling like he was a step behind.
But Nico and Emily marrying? Y
eah, well, that wasn’t going to happen.
* * *
Hours later, and after fielding what felt to be a hundred curious, surprised and shocked congratulations on her engagement, Emily walked down the hallway to the bathroom, conscious of a headache building behind her eyes. Nico, thank God, had left the club already and she could, momentarily, relax.
Oh, how she wished she could rewind her life and erase the past twenty-four hours. She wanted to go back to the person she was yesterday, to her relatively simple and uncomplicated life. And how she wished she could erase her dumb decision to go on a couple of dates with Nico Morris.
Nico could, admittedly, be charming but there was no chemistry between them and that was why she called an end to their brief, unexciting dates.
Yet, not two weeks later, she was engaged to the man!
It was time to go home. If she stayed much longer, she might end up screaming at someone. She’d go home, change into her yoga pants and slug down a glass, or three, of wine and bitch to her cat.
And when she stopped feeling sorry for herself, she’d start thinking of a way to boot Nico from her life without jeopardizing her father’s and Arnott’s Wealth Management’s reputations.
Emily squealed as a strong hand gripped her wrist and tugged her into a small closet adjacent to the meeting room she’d visited earlier. She felt her breasts push into a solid, hard chest. Six years and Matt Velez, damn him, was still as gorgeous as ever. Close-cropped dark hair, those masculine features and a sexy, sexy mouth. Broad shouldered, slim hipped, ripped. And damn, he smelled good.
She loved his eyes; they were the color of a luxurious mahogany mink coat she’d once seen but would never wear, deep and dark and mysterious.
Matt reached behind her to shut the door and they were plunged into darkness. She should be feeling uneasy or even a little scared at Matt’s high-handed treatment of her and Emily knew she should blast him but...
But, dammit, she just felt turned on and happy to be in his arms, feeling his heat, his hard body a perfect counterpoint to her soft curves.