Reckless Envy

by Joss Wood

  Matt rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re upset and I don’t think this is the right time to discuss this.”

  “Just answer the question!” Emily yelled.

  “I don’t know!” Matt yelled back. “All I know is that I don’t want to want you, I don’t want to want more.”

  Emily stared at him, completely confused. “What does that even mean?”

  Matt jammed his hands into the pockets of his pants. He scowled at her, his face and eyes hard, his beautiful mouth thin with displeasure. “Can we stop arguing, please?”

  Emily nodded. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

  “Why do I get the feeling that there’s a subtext to your agreement that I’m not getting?”

  “Because you aren’t a stupid man,” Emily haughtily informed him. “So let me spell it out for you. I don’t need your help. And the only thing I needed from you, you gave me last night. I wondered what making love to you was like and now I know so...thanks.”

  Matt’s eyes narrowed to slits at her flippancy. “Your acting skills need work.”

  “As do your hearing skills,” Emily snapped back. “I need you to go. Just walk out of my life and keep walking. You did it all those years ago so do me a favor and do it again.”

  Matt shoved his hands into his hair and scowled at her.

  “If I go, I’m going to keep walking. I’m done with begging you to let me in and to allow me to help you.”

  Emily felt her heart contract, thinking that she was at the end of her rope and it was fraying. “Fine. Just go.”

  “If I go, I’m not coming back,” Matt told her, his words as hard as pebbles being dropped into a shallow puddle of clear water. “If I go, we’re done. Do you understand that?”

  A tear rolled down her cheek and Emily closed her eyes, hoping to keep the rest behind her eyelids. “I understand.”

  She heard the whoosh of air Matt released; he sounded like a balloon deflating. Emily turned and opened the door to her vehicle, telling herself that she couldn’t turn around, wouldn’t allow herself to look into his beloved face, into those deep, luscious eyes. If she did, she’d cave.

  Emily heard his footsteps taking him away from her and forced herself to stay where she was, to not call him back. Tears slid down her face.

  He was walking out of her life—no, she’d shoved him out of her life—but what he didn’t know was that he was leaving with her ripped and shredded heart.

  * * *

  The next day, in his office across town, Matt tried to concentrate on work but it was a disaster from minute one.

  He prided himself on being able to multitask, to juggle a hundred balls in the air, on his exceptional memory but today his normally agile brain had shut down, his entire attention on Emily’s scared eyes, hunched shoulders, the tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Matt pushed his shoulders back and rubbed his eyes with his thumbs. You can’t blame anyone else but yourself for this mess you’re in, dude—you did everything she accused you of.

  He’d pushed himself into Em’s life because he’d always wanted her and because he hated the idea of Nico having her. It wasn’t nice and it wasn’t pretty and it most certainly wasn’t something he took pride in.

  But he’d soon stopped thinking with his pride and ego and started tuning in to her, looking past the beautiful face dominated by those amazing violet-colored eyes. He’d seen her loneliness, her determination to be self-reliant and the hurt she’d pushed down deep. He liked her sharp mind and her sly sense of humor and, God, yes, he adored her body.

  She was the one woman he could see himself with for the rest of his life. His first reaction, the one he’d had so long ago with images of her as his bride and the mother of his children, was right. And because he was young and stupid, he’d run as fast and as far as he could from her.

  He loved her and the thought of her marrying anyone else but him was the equivalent of a tooth abscess, a knife plunged into his heart, a cancer in his stomach.

  But her pride was hurt; she thought he was only with her because of his old rivalry—and it was old and so very dead—with Morris. But, because both he and Morris had been immature, arrogant pricks, their legend lived on and Emily had somehow gotten to hear about their embarrassing interactions.

  Man, he’d been such an ass.

  The only thing I needed from you, you gave me last night. I wondered what making love to you was like and now I know so...thanks.

  Matt rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers, wondering if she really meant what she’d said. Last night, while making love to her, and because he’d had enough sexual encounters to understand the difference between sex with and without love, he’d thought they had an intense connection, a real meeting of minds and bodies and emotions. He needed to wake up with her, go to sleep with her, hear her laugh, make her smile, explore her body and plumb the depths of her agile mind. He yearned for her to be at the center of the family he now so desperately longed for, to be the mother of the children he suddenly craved.

  He’d thought they were on the same page but her words last night made him doubt what he thought they had.

  And why hadn’t he been able to answer her when she demanded to know what he wanted from her? Because the words marriage and babies and forever had never passed his lips before? Because he was scared? Because he was a coward?

  All of the above and more.

  Matt leaned back in his chair, conscious of the headache behind his eyes. He swiveled around in his seat and stared out his window at the view of the Hudson River. Emily might think that they were over, and they might be, but whatever was going on with Emily was coming to a head; he knew that like he knew his own signature. And, he didn’t care whether she wanted his help or not; he was not stepping out of the ring when she needed him the most.

  After Nico was out of her life, she could tell him to go to hell but, until then, he was going to help her, whether she wanted him to or not. And that meant getting to work...

  Happy to have something else to focus on besides his hurting heart, Matt turned his focus on how to end Morris.

  Killing him sounded good but Matt wasn’t keen on a lengthy jail sentence, so he’d have to settle for destroying his reputation. Getting Morris out of Emily’s life was all that mattered. After Emily was safe, he’d walk away again because he was damned if he’d stick around where he wasn’t wanted. He’d done that when he was young—he hadn’t had a choice when it came to his family—but he refused to do that again.

  He could patch up his aching heart later; right now he needed to take action to boot Morris out of Em’s life. He could, maybe, live without her but he absolutely could not live without knowing she was safe. And, until Morris was away from her, she would never be.

  But, dammit, he had no idea how to do that.

  Matt looked up as Vee entered his office, holding his favorite mug in her right hand and papers in her left. Matt took his coffee with a grateful smile, sipped and closed his eyes. “Thanks, I needed this.”

  “You look like hell,” Vee commented, placing her papers to the side of his computer.

  “I feel like hell,” Matt told Vee.

  Vee sat down on the edge of the visitor’s chair, her normally stern face reflecting her deep concern. “How can I help, Matt?”

  “A friend of mine—”

  “Emily Arnott—”

  Of course Vee knew whom he was referring to; she was crazy intuitive. Or nosy. “—has somehow gotten herself tangled up with Nico Morris.”

  “The Nico Morris who worked here?” Vee asked, wrinkling her nose.

  “Yep. Him.”

  “I never liked him and he always cut corners. Some of his trades were borderline unethical.”

  His interest caught, Matt sat up straight. “Really?”

  Vee nodded. “At the time of his resignation
, I was toying with coming to you about my suspicions, but then he resigned and he wasn’t a problem anymore.”

  Matt grimaced. “I wish you had. I might have something to work with today.”

  Vee’s smile reached her eyes and turned her from plain to pretty. “Well, I did do something that might be considered a little unethical myself...”

  Oh, interesting. “What did you do?”

  “On the day you were promoted to CEO, I worked late. I had a feeling he was going to leave. I was concerned he’d destroy sensitive company information so I did a backup of his desktop.”

  Matt pulled his keyboard toward him and quickly checked the company server, identified the files that came from Morris’s machine and shook his head. “I’ve checked these files already. There’s nothing there.”

  Vee stood up, walked around his desk and peered at the screen. “That’s a backup done by someone from the IT department. That file is a lot smaller than the one I did two nights before he resigned.”

  Matt’s heart started to gallop and the moisture from his mouth disappeared. “Please, please tell me that you still have that backup.”

  Vee rolled her eyes. “I file everything. Of course I have it.” Vee nudged him aside and Matt rolled his chair back to give Vee access to his keyboard. A minute later she was on the internet and code was rolling across his screen. And then, thirty seconds later, a folder popped up on his home screen, dated five years back.

  Vee stood back, gestured to the folder and smiled. “If you find anything worthwhile can I have a raise?”

  Matt rolled his chair closer to the desk. “Even if I don’t, you can still have a raise,” Matt told her, opening the folder and scanning the directory. There was a huge discrepancy in the size between the files he had access to and Vee’s backup copy. The obvious place to start was to see what Morris deleted before the techies from IT came in to back up his system.

  Matt prayed he would find something he could use.

  Ten

  Pack a bag, we’re heading to Vegas. You’ll also need a wedding dress.

  Emily read the text message from Nico again and tasted bile in the back of her throat. God, this was happening, this was really happening.

  So, was this what all those French aristocrats felt like when they were facing the sharp blade of the guillotine? Terrified and subdued, resigned and a little dead on the inside?

  Maybe that was the trick to survive the next however many years of marriage to Nico? Don’t feel, don’t react, don’t think.

  Just be...

  Emily rested her aching head on her office window, feeling utterly wiped out. If she felt like a shell of the person she usually was right now, then there would be nothing left of herself when, and if, she was finally free of Nico.

  She couldn’t do it.

  Emily turned and put her back to the window, her hands flat against the glass. Yes, she’d be taking a huge gamble with the company, with their clients, but they had the financial records to back up every transaction they’d made; their paper trail was clean. Yes, they’d take a hit reputationwise but it wasn’t like they’d be going up against a choirboy or the most well-respected person in Falling Brook. Nico wasn’t well liked and she and her dad were; maybe they’d have a fighting chance.

  She couldn’t marry Nico. And she’d rather do battle in the open than skulk in the shadows.

  And maybe, just maybe, Matt would help her. Okay, she accepted that she’d never have a happy-ever-after with him but maybe his competitive streak was strong enough to want to take Nico down, to help her. Maybe, possibly, his offer of help was still on the table.

  It wasn’t like she had any choices left and she’d definitely run out of time. She had to put her pride aside and accept she couldn’t do this on her own; she needed help. Matt’s help.

  Before she could talk herself out of her decision, Emily lunged for her phone and dialed Matt’s number, then cursed when it went straight to voice mail. She didn’t bother with a long explanation when a few words would do...

  “I know you’re mad at me but Nico wants us to leave for Vegas tonight to get hitched. I’m out of my depth and I need your help. Will you help me?”

  How long would it take for him to listen to her message? Did she have that much time? Emily bit her lip and placed her hand on her stomach, pushing her other fist into her sternum, trying to ease the burning sensation.

  While she waited for Matt to call back, she needed to do what she could to mitigate the disaster looming in her future. And the first step was to confront her father and to make him listen to her. She needed to connect with him, not as employee and boss but as father and daughter.

  She needed her dad.

  Clutching her phone to her chest, Emily walked out of her office and after passing Gina’s empty desk, she walked down the hallway to her dad’s office. She was going to have to tell him what was going on, inform him of the fight they were about to wade into. She needed to prepare him, to shore up his emotional defenses, to reassure him they would, with Matt’s help, be okay. That the business would survive.

  That he, and his reputation, would be fine...

  Emily knocked, entered and jerked to a stop when she saw Nico lounging in the visitor’s chair across from her father. Her dad’s eyes looked haunted. His face was the color of fresh, falling snow.

  Oh, shit. He already knew.

  Even from across the room, Emily could see his trembling chin and lips and the bulging cords in his too-tense neck.

  “Emily...”

  His voice sounded thin, as if he couldn’t get enough air. “Em, what are we going to do? I can’t lose the business. I can’t. It’s all I have.”

  Emily wanted to scream at him that he had her and Davy, that they were more important than the business, but the words got lodged in her throat.

  Emily felt her heart sink and cursed herself for imagining, just for one second, that he’d have a plan, that he’d step up to the plate and find a solution instead of looking to her for one. That he’d put her first, that he’d risk losing his business to save her.

  But that wasn’t the way her family worked; she made the sacrifices for everyone else.

  “I’ve shown your father the photograph and the press release I intend to send to the police and the press if you don’t agree to marry me, in Vegas, tonight. They are pretty damning.” Nico sent her a cold smile. “And don’t think that Matt Velez is going to ride in on his white horse and rescue you, Emily—he’s only interested in you because I have you.”

  He had her? Who used words like that anymore? God, she couldn’t do this, she couldn’t tie herself to a misogynistic narcissist. Not for her dad, not to save their reputation...

  Her father cleared his throat and she turned her eyes back to him. “Emily, it’s everything I’ve worked for, all that I have. I won’t be able to rebuild the company if our clients leave—the stain on our reputation will be too damaging. I have some savings but I won’t be able to keep Davy in Brook Village for more than a few months and even if we both get other jobs, we wouldn’t be able to afford the fees. That’s even if I manage to find a job because I’m pretty sure I’ll slide back into that dark place I was in after your mother left.”

  Emily knew, from a place far, far away, that this was another type of blackmail but it was working, dammit. She didn’t want Davy to leave Brook Village or for her dad to take to his room for months and months. A part of her wanted to scream what about me?

  But her dad didn’t care. The truth was that he didn’t want the situation to change and she was the sacrificial goat. But, as much as she wanted to protest, he was right in one aspect: if she refused to marry Nico, Davy would suffer and, of all of them, he was utterly blameless.

  Emily knew that she’d run out of choices so she forced the words through her tight throat. “Well, I guess I’m getting married.”

&
nbsp; Nico slowly climbed to his feet, a smile touching his thin lips. “Excellent.” He leaned across Leonard’s desk and picked up the photograph and copy of his press release. “Next stop, Vegas.”

  No, next stop...hell.

  * * *

  Matt, Emily’s left Falling Brook and has gone to Vegas, to get married. What the hell are you going to do about it?

  Matt exited the taxi and stepped onto the sidewalk, looking down the busy Vegas Strip, Gina’s message bouncing around his head. In between hearing Em’s desperate words—will you help me?—played over and over again, he kept recounting his less-than-wonderful confrontation with Emily’s father hours before. It was a hell of way to start a relationship with your future father-in-law (if all went well) by yelling at him.

  Once I calmed down, I tried to call her back, Leonard told him, wringing his hands, his eyes watery with tears. I reacted badly—I was scared—and I want her to know that she mustn’t marry Morris, that we’ll fight this but she’s not answering her phone.

  Matt climbed out of his taxi and glanced down at his phone, willing it to ring. But the only new message on his screen was one from Leonard, asking for an update. Matt frowned, feeling sick to his stomach. He didn’t have an update for anyone; Emily’s phone was off, as was Morris’s, and he had no idea where to start looking for Emily in Vegas, heaving with tourists. Looking for her in a wedding chapel might yield some results but there were over fifty chapels in the city and he didn’t know where to start.

  Matt gripped the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger and, for the first time in forever, prayed that he would find Emily before she hitched herself to that POS. If he only found her after they were married, well, then he’d get his lawyers working on how to get the marriage annulled or a quickie divorce, but one thing he was crystal clear: Emily would not remain married to Morris.