“He’s away on business.” She brushed her tears away.
“How would he feel if he knew you were here?”
She sucked in a breath and looked away. “I doubt he’d care.” Her eyes, round and liquid, stared up at him. “He’s not you.”
Jesus Christ. “Come upstairs.” She gave him a wobbly smile and clutched his hand like a lifeline. The thought made him want to throw up.
Emily had been doing great for the last eighteen months. It seemed like she’d finally moved on. Could he trust this? This sudden relapse? She’d manipulated him more times than he could remember. But then, how could he risk not believing her?
If he ignored her cry for help and something happened…
Shit.
He took her up to his apartment and let her in. “Take a seat. I’ll make you some tea.”
So fucking polite, so normal. Have some nice, soothing tea while you emotionally blackmail me, while you keep me away from the only woman I’ve ever loved.
He leaned against the counter and took several steadying breaths. Jesus, could he be any more of an asshole? For all he knew, Emily was suffering some kind of emotional breakdown. It wouldn’t be the first he’d ridden out with her—but it sure as hell needed to be the last. He couldn’t be her crutch, not anymore. He needed to talk her into getting help.
He pulled out the cups and glanced at his watch. Dammit.
There was no way he’d make his dinner meeting tonight, but more frustrating, he doubted he’d get to see Alex. He quickly called about dinner, made his apologies, and rescheduled, then scrolled down to Alex’s name. The phone rang for so long he started to think she wouldn’t answer.
“Hello.”
The sound of her voice went a long way to soothing the stress and anxiety he always felt when Emily was like this. “Hey.”
The pause before she spoke, that hint of wariness, fucking twisted him up inside. “Worried I’m not coming?”
“No, I—”
“We have a deal, right?”
Deal. It wasn’t a fucking deal, not to him. And as much as she tried to deny it, she knew it, too. “Alex…”
“We still have a deal, don’t we, Deacon?” There was an acerbic bite to her voice—her tone damn near gave him frostbite. He knew she was still angry after the way he’d behaved this morning—she had every right to be—but he got the feeling this was something more.
He held the phone tighter to his ear. “Talk to me, Alex. I know I—”
“I’m getting dressed. I’ll head over to your place when I’m ready.”
Her voice was still cold, but she’d dropped the quietly controlled anger. Now she just sounded emotionless, distant. Fuck. She was holding back, keeping her feelings locked down, and he hated it.
“Deacon?” Emily’s voice drifted in from the hall and, he was positive, bounced off the kitchen cabinets and right down the goddamn receiver to Alex.
“You still at work?” Alex asked.
“Look, something’s come up. I, ah…I have to cancel our plans for tonight.” He wanted to say more, so much more, but Emily chose that moment to walk into the kitchen.
Alex was silent for several seconds, then she laughed, the sound forced, distant. “Jesus. You’re so damn predictable.”
Goddammit. “No. Listen to me—”
Emily’s face crumpled. “Are you…are you talking to her?”
After the way things had been left between them, this was the last thing he needed. Alex barely trusted him as it was. With the scratches and the confrontation in the store… She’d jump to the wrong conclusion without doubt. His little viper would use it as another way to protect herself, an excuse to push him away, and he couldn’t have that. He was doing a good enough job of that on his own.
“I have to go. I’m sorry.” He wanted to tell her about Emily—all of it, the lies, the betrayal—but the memory of his ex sitting in the bathtub the day after he’d found her in bed with another man, a blade to her wrist and swearing she’d cut her vein wide open if he exposed her, if he told her family and friends what she’d done to keep him—stopped him cold. She couldn’t bear the humiliation. All she had left was her position in society. She’d lost him, if she lost that, too…
He couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk telling anyone, not even Alex.
Alex cleared her throat. “Yeah, sure.”
Dread slammed him hard. “This morning, I…” He glanced up at Emily, and those cold blue eyes were locked on him. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
“Forget it, Deacon. I have,” Alex said, then hung up.
…
Alex rolled an old tire around the side of the garage to stash behind the building. Really, this job could wait till later, but she needed a minute. Rusty had been watching her all damn day, and Piper just flat-out wouldn’t leave her alone. They weren’t blind. They knew something was up. Something she could never tell them.
And being a crabby bitch all day hadn’t helped, either.
I’ll talk to you soon, okay?
Those words kept running through her mind. If that wasn’t a kiss-off, she didn’t know what was. One minute he missed her, couldn’t get enough of her, the next, she was finding lipstick-stained shirts in his trash and he couldn’t get away fast enough. She shoved down the stab of pain. Her feelings didn’t matter in all this. He’d made that clear from the start.
All that mattered now was what this meant for West Restoration.
Lifting the tire, she stacked it on top of the others, then turned to leave and slammed up against a hard chest.
She opened her mouth to scream bloody murder, but a hand slapped over her mouth—and Deacon filled her vision. “It’s just me.”
She yanked his fingers away. “What do you think you’re doing?” Then without conscious thought, her gaze moved over him, ate up every inch of his body. It had only been a day, but it felt like forever. So many emotions pounded through her, making her dizzy. She didn’t know whether to punch him or kiss the living daylights out of him.
“I had to come and see you.” He moved in, crowded her, pressed her into the warm steel wall of the garage at her back. “Last night…something came up.”
His back muscles tensed under her hands, and she realized she’d wrapped herself around him instinctively. That brought her up short.
Wise the hell up, Alex.
His dark gaze zeroed in on her mouth. If he kissed her right now, she’d be lost. “You don’t owe me an explanation. You’ve been busy with your suit buddies, whatever.” She shoved at his chest to get some space and shrugged. “Hey, I get it. Whores and five-star restaurants don’t mix, right?”
Suddenly his hands were on her ass, and she was up against the wall. He shoved her higher, so they were eye level, and that big hard body pressed into hers. His solid thighs were wedged between hers, forcing her to open for him, and he ground the hard ridge of his erection against her center. The delicious pressure had her crying out. Then he stepped back from the wall suddenly, taking her with him. Just long enough for one of those big hands to leave her butt and come down again on the same cheek with a loud smack.
Heat hit her face, anger and—dammit—lust firing her blood. She fought to get free, but he just pressed into her harder.
“You’re not going anywhere. You are not running away. You will listen to me.” She turned away, but he grabbed her chin, using his hips to hold her where he wanted her, and made her look at him. “I didn’t go to the dinner meeting…something else came up. Something that kept me from you.” He cursed under his breath. “I don’t give a damn about five-star restaurants, and if you call yourself a whore once more, just once, I’ll put you over my knee.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” She tried to shove him back, but he didn’t budge.
Heat flashed behind his eyes. “Try me.”
Her lower belly clenched at his words, remembering the way he’d spanked her over her kitchen table, and she barely resisted rubbing up against that scorching-h
ot flesh still pressed between her thighs. “So what? We’re still doing this?” She bit her lip, hated the strain in her voice, the need he had to have heard. Idiot.
He squeezed her ass. “I just need a couple days. That’s all. I have… There’s something I need to finalize, something that requires my entire focus. Believe me, no one will be happier than me when it’s over.”
She wanted to question him further, ask him about the shirt in his bathroom. Tell him what an asshole he’d been, that she didn’t deserve to be treated that way. But he chose that moment to bury his face against her throat and scrape his teeth against her skin, nipping then sucking away the sting, and the words got stuck in her throat.
“I’ve been going out of my mind, baby.”
He ground against her again, and she moaned, circling her hips, reaching for the release that was already so close just from having him pressed against her. God, she was pathetic, weak. She let her head fall back against the warm steel behind her in an attempt to ground herself, to regain some common sense. But her body didn’t give a flying fuck about common sense—it cried out to have him inside her again.
“Say you’ll wait, Alex. Say that you’ll give me a couple days.”
Right then, she couldn’t remember her own name, let alone the reasons this wasn’t a good idea. All her doubts were dissolving into a puddle at his feet. Then his mouth was on hers, and she was burning from the inside out. His tongue met hers, and she felt each sensual slide, each wild thrust between her quivering thighs. The world vanished around her. Her body didn’t want anything to do with logic, it wanted Deacon, his hands, his mouth, his cock inside her.
He pulled back, kissing her jaw, her neck, that spot below her ear. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Her chest squeezed. Yeah, she was still pissed, hurt after what happened, the way he’d acted, but maybe… “For canceling our plans. God, I missed you.”
What? She froze. His words were like a bucket of ice water dumped on her head.
No “sorry for doubting you, for believing you could be sleeping with someone else behind my back.” No “sorry for letting you walk away and making you feel like the worthless whore that asshole had mistaken you for.” And no explanation for the time he suddenly needed or why there was a shirt in his bathroom covered in pink goddamn lipstick.
She shoved his shoulders, hard. “That’s what you’re sorry for? You can’t think of anything else? Nothing?”
“Alex…”
“Jesus, you really are nothing but a self-centered asshole, aren’t you?”
He’d stilled but kept his arms around her, not letting her push him away. “Talk to me, don’t fucking push me away, and don’t shut me out.”
Shut him out? He was the one keeping secrets and acting like a jerk.
This might be nothing but a business deal to him, but it wasn’t to her, not anymore. She’d tried to keep her emotions out of it, but she’d failed, miserably. There was no point denying it anymore. She wanted what he would never give her.
Deacon had been ashamed of her. So ashamed the woman he’d been seen out with over the last two weeks had been pegged as some high-class call girl that he’d canceled their dinner plans to avoid more embarrassment. He could give her all the excuses he wanted, but that was the real reason. To him, she would never be good enough. And that hurt. A lot.
The couple of days he needed were more than likely to cover his ass, in case the asshole Deacon had assaulted spilled his guts and all the nice people he’d introduced her to as his date thought they’d been breaking bread with Deacon’s whore.
The expression on his face when he’d let her walk out of his apartment was stuck in her head.
She’d given him a chance, an opening to admit he cared, and he hadn’t taken it. Because he didn’t feel that way about her. All he felt for her was lust. She was good enough to fuck, but only when it didn’t get in the way of business.
And she’d stupidly gone to him that morning, ready to spill her guts, to yak up all the feelings she’d kept locked in her heart for so long. She’d trusted him. Something she didn’t do lightly.
“Let me go.” He didn’t, he held on tighter.
“Talk to me.”
She shoved at his shoulders. “I said let me the fuck go.”
Every muscle in his body turned to stone beneath her hands. “Jesus. Alex…”
“We’re done.”
He flinched. “What?”
“I said we’re done. Now back the hell up.” She planted her hands on his shoulders and shoved again.
“You don’t mean that. We have a—”
“Don’t you dare say it.” She shoved again, hands shaking, stomach twisting.
He finally released her, taking a step back. And dammit, she missed him instantly. “Talk to me, Alex.”
She held his wild gaze, heart pounding. It suddenly hurt to even look at him. “If you try to force this, this messed-up arrangement, I will tell your sisters. You’ll lose them, Deacon, and you know it. As for the business, word about the place is spreading. We’ve had several big jobs come in this week alone, and we’re getting calls and doing quotes for more every day. So your excuse to sell this place, that we’re playing shop, has been shot to shit.”
“Alex,” he growled, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Would you stop for a minute and let me explain? You don’t understand—”
“Despite what you think of me, I do understand. I understand perfectly.” He tried to grab her, but she wrenched away, taking several steps back. “Don’t touch me.”
He shoved his hands in his hair. “Sweetheart, don’t do—”
“Deke!” Piper’s voice cut him off as she walked around the corner. “I didn’t know you were stopping by.”
Deacon’s gaze didn’t falter; those blazing green eyes remained locked on her. Shoving her hands in her pockets, she moved around him, ignoring the way he growled her name under his breath, and forced a smile.
“Well, I need to get back to work. I’ll leave you two to catch up,” Alex murmured and made her escape.
She saw him drive away a short time later.
…
The next day seemed to creep by at a snail’s pace and wasn’t made any easier by the constant barrage of calls and texts from Deacon. She’d turned her phone off in the end. No way was she ready to talk to him. She had no interest in whatever bullshit he had to say.
She was ecstatic when she could finally climb the stairs to her apartment and, after a long, hot shower, change into her pj’s and veg on the couch. I will not cry. Not over him. Not again.
Flicking through the channels, she searched for a show that didn’t have anything to do with love or sex or relationships of any kind. In the end she chose a gory horror flick. “No chance of any lovey-dovey stuff on that.”
The door to her apartment crashed open just as she was settling in. Rusty, with Piper hot on her heels, stormed in, wearing matching pissed-off expressions. They know.
Rusty rounded the couch and slammed a newspaper on the coffee table. “Have you seen this shit?”
Alex followed her friend’s finger, stabbing at a collection of pictures on the society pages. She blinked down at them, hoping she was having some screwed-up hallucination. No.
But she wasn’t and there in black and white was Deacon—and Emily. Her stomach dropped to her feet.
The first couple photos were of the two of them walking into a restaurant, his hand resting on her lower back. The next showed them climbing into a cab together, and the last was the pair of them out in front of his building. But this had been taken in the morning. Emily was wearing the same dress she’d had on in the dinner shots. Deke’s hair was wet, slicked back like he’d just gotten out of the shower, and Emily was wrapped around him, head pressed to his chest. They’d spent the night together.
I’m going to throw up.
“That’s who I heard in the background when he phoned.” She hadn’t realized she’d said it out loud until Rusty grabbe
d her arm.
“When? How long has that bitch had her claws back in my brother?”
Alex shook her head, still stunned by the images in front of her. “I don’t know. I just heard a female voice…I have no idea how long it’s been going on.”
“Why’d he call?” Piper asked behind her. “Did he say anything about Emily?”
She shook her head. “No. He called to see if we could fit his car in for a service.” What else could she say? “We didn’t talk about anything else.”
Rusty screwed up the paper and fired it in the trash. “If he’s going to keep shit-tastic secrets like this, then the lazy prick can service his own damn car.”
The pair talked for a while longer, but Alex barely heard a word they said.
How could she have been so blind? The scratches, the lipstick on the shirt. The female voice on the other end of the phone when he’d canceled their plans. All the signs had been there. She just hadn’t wanted to believe them.
Did he still love Emily? Had he ever stopped? And why had he asked her to give him a couple days? Kissing her like he had when he was obviously getting back with his ex-wife—did he think he could keep her his dirty little secret? Have the best of both worlds?
Anger, hot and sharp, sliced through her, helping to dull the ache in her chest.
A hand landed on her shoulder. “Alex. What’s wrong?” Piper slid down beside her, concern on her face. “Why are you crying?”
Was she?
“Ah, Christ.” Rusty slumped down, taking her other side, and looked at her sister. “You were right. They’re sleeping together.”
“What?” Alex shook her head, breaking out in a cold sweat.
“Save it, girl.” Rusty slung her arm around Alex’s shoulders. “We’ve seen his car here. You two are as subtle as a pair of humping wildebeests.” Rusty gave her an encouraging squeeze. “Start talking.”
Piper patted her hand, but her expression was pure determination. “Now.”
Chapter Nineteen
Deacon was surprised and—he’d never thought he’d say this—pleased to see Steve when he’d entered the charity gala earlier that night. The sooner he got this mess with Emily sorted out, the sooner he could tell Alex everything. Until he told her the truth, all of it, they couldn’t move forward. She loved him. He had to believe that. He just hoped she’d give him a chance to explain—that she’d believe him when he did.
Crashed (Entangled Indulgence) Page 16