A Million Different Ways To Lose You (The Horn Duet Book 2)

by P. Dangelico

  “Back to England.”

  “You’re being deliberately vague.”

  Her eyes darted around, searching for cover from my scrutiny. “It’s my mum. She’s sick.”

  “And the dog ate your homework? You’ve never once mentioned your family.” Blowing out a deep breath, she continued. “I need to go deal with a problem that I’ve put off for years. Please don’t ask me anymore.”

  “Why not? Maybe I can help.”

  The wind kicked up again, her hair streaming across her face. Pushing the curls away, she said, “You can’t. Believe me, I wish you could, but you can’t.” Her expression convinced me that she truly believed it.

  “Are you ever coming back?”

  “I want to…depends how things go.”

  “Promise me that you’ll call and let me know how you are. I won’t rest otherwise. If you make me worry, I’ll come looking for you.”

  The edges of her plump mouth curled up faintly. “Worse than a Sunday school teacher.”

  “Count on it.”

  “Okay, I promise.”

  “Now let’s get inside and get drunk––give you a proper send off.”

  “You get drunk. I’ll drown my sorrows in an extra large crème brulée since I won’t be seeing any for a while.”

  “Deal.”

  We spent the rest of the lunch laughing, talking about anything and everything other than the secrets I knew she was keeping from me. I just prayed that when the time came, she wouldn’t hesitate to call.

  It was almost midnight when I heard the sound of the alarm beeping. Ten minutes later he walked into our bedroom tugging on his tie. I placed the book I was reading on the bedside table and examined the handsome man standing before me. Hair disheveled like he’d run a worried hand through it, shoulders sagging under the enormous burden he carried, jaw tight and lines of fatigue written across his face.

  “Come here,” I said. Without a word of objection, he walked over to me. I rose out of bed and made quick work of his clothes, peeling each article away from a body a Greek God would envy. “What’s wrong?”

  Without mincing words, he came right out with it. “Your father was most likely innocent, and mine was a crook.” Then he chuckled humorlessly.

  “Tell me.”

  The sound of his tired sigh said more than I needed to know. “In ten years they nearly doubled the three hundred million. It’s not a huge sum but enough to cover any bad trades they may have made––enough to keep the balance sheets in the black.”

  “Not a huge sum?” I mumbled.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t see it immediately,” he murmured, his expression forlorn. “My father was a total control freak.” He said this as if this should surprise me, as if he was admitting some big family secret. I swallowed the snort desperate to erupt out of me. “He knew every move we made at the bank before I told him.”

  “Lay down.” I knew then how drained he was because he did exactly as he was told. I grabbed the lotion from the drawer in the bedside table and began on his injured knee. “Nobody wants to believe the worst of their parents. Take it from me.”

  The arm covering his face muffled a primitive growl loud enough to wake the neighbors. “Jesus…that feels almost as good as you riding my cock,” he mumbled.

  My eyebrows nearly reached my hairline. “Charming––Did you eat?”

  “Not hungry,” he answered, moaning as my skilled hands worked on his thigh.

  “Darling, I know you’re tired, but I need to talk about a job that Dr. Rossetti mentioned before we went to Italy.”

  “Hmm.”

  “For a physician’s assistant at a free clinic.”

  “Hmm.”

  “I’m going in tomorrow for the interview.”

  “’Kay.” Ten minutes later, I glanced at his face and found him asleep. His sensual lips softly parted, the lines of worry now smooth. The satisfaction I felt knowing I could do that for him was ridiculous. Enveloped by a new sense of ease, I crawled in beside him, covered us up, and fell soundly asleep. At dawn the feeling vanished when I discovered the bed empty.

  The clinic was located in a modest neighborhood. I actually checked the address twice before giving it to Bear, who drove me. The building looked freshly painted and the waiting room cheerful. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Whoever was organizing the fundraising was obviously doing a very good job.

  Inside, the sound of patients crowding the waiting room, I’m ashamed to admit, excited me. This was what I was meant to do. With all the drama of the past few months, I’d lost sight of what was really important to me.

  At the check-in desk, I stood quietly waiting for the twenty something receptionist to notice me. With her attention completely fixated on the mess piled on top of her desk, it looked like that would be a while.

  “I’m here for the physician’s assistant interview.”

  “Muller, Muller…where the bloody hell is that file,” she mumbled to herself while she searched under stacks of paper, an index finger with a broken nail tapping anxiously at her bottom lip.

  “What are you here for?”

  I took her in. The untidy bun, the fraught expression she wore––it was clear she was in way over her head.

  “The interview.” Still nothing. She hadn’t looked at me once.

  “Agnes!” bellowed a deep, masculine voice from one of the examination rooms. The receptionist––Agnes, I assumed––jerked at the sound. “Where the bloody hell is that file I asked for a decade ago!”

  She became frantic in her search, piles of paperwork falling off her desk in the process.

  “For the interview,” I repeated. Then I pulled the Muller file she was looking for out from under one of the stacks and handed it to her. Agnes finally glanced up, her brown eyes wide, her mouth at first pursed then curving into a hesitant smile. She took the file out of my hands.

  “Shit––I mean, thank you.” Getting up quickly, Agnes flew to the examination room, her bright red, corkscrew curls tumbling free of the haphazard bun.

  In her absence, I glanced around the over stuffed waiting room and grabbed a pen and clipboard from the desk. One by one, I went from patient to patient, writing down names and symptoms, what time they had arrived at the clinic. I was so immersed in what I was doing that I lost track of time. Until I heard that deep masculine voice once again––only this time it was right behind me.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  Turning around slowly, I came face to face…no that’s wrong, I came face to chest with a very large man. My eyes climbed higher and higher until I reached his eyes. Not even his scowl could take anything away from this brand of handsomeness. Cheekbones high and razor sharp, full lips surrounded by a closely cropped goatee, piercing dark eyes, and a milk chocolate complexion. The only touch of whimsy that made him actually look human was a smattering of freckles across his face––as if God thought him too perfect and blew stardust on him.

  “Do you speak English?” he said, rather rudely.

  A bark of laughter erupted out of me. Holding out my hand, I said, “Vera Horn, I’m here to interview for the physician’s assistant job.” He stared at my outstretched hand suspiciously. Dear Lord, Dr. Rossetti was not exaggerating. “Dr. Rossetti sent me.”

  Still nothing. His eyes examined me closely. I started to sweat a little under all that intense scrutiny. Clearing my throat, I explained, “I listed each patient here according to time of arrival.” I pointed to the clipboard. “And cross matched them with severity of symptoms. I suggest you see Mrs. Dumas next. She’s seventy-nine and has the flu. I suspect she’s extremely dehydrated already.”

  Hands on his hips, he took a deep breath and said, “Agnes, put Mrs. Dumas in examination room two.” Then he turned and walked away.

  “Dr. Kama?” I said baffled.

  “Let’s go, Horn. I don’t have all day. You need to get changed––we have patients to see,” he barked over his shoulder, not even b
reaking stride.

  I scurried after him. “What about the interview?”

  “We just had it,” he replied without a glance in my direction.

  “You don’t want to see my university file?”

  “Saw it a month ago.” His eyes met mine, a scowl on his face. “Where the bloody hell have you been?” With that, he pushed me into the women’s employee locker room, and took off to attend Mrs. Dumas.

  Chapter Twenty

  That morning seemed like any other. Seemed being the operative word. Little did I know when I left for the clinic everything would change. By early afternoon, Yannick had already seen most of the scheduled patients and some of the walk-ins. It was an easy day, as we liked to say, filled with vaccine shots, ear infections, and other innocuous maladies. That’s why when Emilia called and asked to meet for lunch I jumped at the chance. Sebastian’s order that I not see her was pure rubbish. There was no way I would stop seeing her. She was the last tie to my old life, to my father. She’s witnessed it all––the only person I could discuss it with that truly understood what it had been like for me.

  There was no getting rid of the security detail. The Department of Justice suggested it remain in place until further notice that their investigation had been concluded and subsequent arrests made. I knew Sebastian would find out about it––and I was prepared to face the consequences. I couldn’t allow him to keep me in his ivory tower forever.

  At the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change, I spotted Emilia sitting at one of the outdoor tables of the bistro. I knew immediately she was speaking to a man when she threw her head back in abandon and pushed her long, black hair over her shoulder––a gesture I recognized from when we were teenagers. She was laughing, talking to someone hidden behind the waiter standing next to the table. Instinctively, I glanced behind me, to make sure that Gideon and Justin were close by. I had no idea whom she had invited along, and that it may have been Yuri really annoyed me.

  Gideon’s eyes narrowed, his awareness sharpening when he noticed the flash of unease on my face. As I reached the sidewalk on the other side of the street, with Gideon shadowing me even closer, the waiter stepped aside.

  Ten paces from the table, I came to an abrupt halt, rooted to the spot as a steady stream of pedestrians flowed around me. The bottom fell out of my world and all the air left my lungs in a blink of an eye. Seated across from Emilia, smiling casually at her, was Aleksander.

  Time hadn’t left a single mark on him, as if six years hadn’t passed. He glanced up and his obsidian gaze caught mine. His expression sobered instantly as we stared at each other for an endless amount of time.

  Snapshots of our life together flipped through my mind in rapid succession, every touch, taste, and smell. An overwhelming sense of nostalgia hit me. When he stood, the spell was broken. Emilia, following his gaze, turned in my direction.

  “There you are––surprise,” she said with a wide smile. I was going to kill her slowly and painfully. She knew how much I hated surprises and to spring one on me of this magnitude on me was unforgivable. I glared back at her and her smile faded. Aleksander finally broke the stalemate, reaching me quickly and wrapping me in his arms when he realized I was about to bolt. Almost instantly, Gideon was on us.

  “Back the fuck away.” I had never heard Gideon use that language, or tone before and it shocked me. As much as it did Alek because he released me instantly.

  “It’s okay, Gideon. I know him.” When he didn’t react I clarified, “From Albania.” Reluctantly, he backed away and after signaling to the waiter, he took a seat next to Justin a few tables down.

  Alek’s silky black hair was longer, tucked behind his ears, not a single silver thread to be found anywhere. Still, obscenely handsome. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his navy blazer while he studied me. From my sharply bobbed hair to the designer clothes.

  “You were always a pretty a girl…but you’ve become a stunning woman,” he said in Albanian. The compliment annoyed me beyond reason. Six years after his desertion and it was my looks he wanted to discuss? He read the resentment in my eyes easily. When I didn’t acknowledge the ridiculous observation he shifted tactic, “We have a lot to discuss––don’t you think?”

  “No. I don’t,” I answered in English, drawing the line clearly. I was not the girl he knew anymore. I hadn’t been that naive girl in a long, long time.

  “I’ve spent the last six years looking for you. The least you can do is allow me to explain.”

  Everything began spinning. For a moment I thought I would faint on the sidewalk. Noticing the color drain from my face, Alek slipped a hand under my elbow and walked me to the table. As soon as I sat down, I took a very large gulp of Emilia’s water. Nobody at the table missed the way my hand trembled uncontrollably, or that the water barely made it to my lips. It embarrassed me. Two hot circles burned my cheeks. I glanced at Alek, trying to convince myself that he wasn’t a figment of my imagination, and saw concern marring his brow.

  “Are you all right?”

  “No.”

  “We don’t have to talk right now. I’m not going anywhere. We have time.” His perceptive eyes roamed over my face in fascination. “How are you?”

  “Married,” I said harshly, and help up the hand wearing the thin, platinum band.

  The shock on his face evoked a pang of guilt in me. Should I have been more gentle? Was I trying to punish him? For the past six years I thought he had abandoned me. What if I had been wrong? So much I’d already thought to be true had been proven wrong. I didn’t know what to trust anymore.

  As if on cue, Sebastian’s Bentley came speeding around the corner, Bear behind the wheel. The passenger side door swung open before the car came to a screeching halt in front of the restaurant. With all the commotion he was causing, every pair of eyes in the vicinity was on him––on us. Gideon and Justin were by his side immediately as he stalked up to the table. Fury emanated from every line on Sebastian’s body, his expression arctic. His eyes skipped back and forth from me to Alek, and turned scalding with contempt when they landed on Emilia.

  Having the two of them standing next to each other was surreal. The comparison couldn’t be helped. Where Sebastian was openly forceful, the power he possessed to dominate straightforward, Alek was all stealth and subterfuge. His was a fox like cunning that was just as effective at getting what he wanted as Sebastian was with his force of will.

  “Sebastian––”

  “Get in the car.” The low murmur was bone chilling. I’d never seen him like this and it made me pause, the rest of my plea eaten up by a healthy dose of caution.

  Alek stood up, glaring openly at Sebastian. I started to panic. I could see where this was headed and it was nowhere good.

  “Fine. Let’s go,” I stated. I pushed out of my chair and tugged on Sebastian’s arm without any success as the two men continued to stare each other down.

  “Who is this asshole?” Alek said in Albanian. I didn’t answer, my nerves stealing my ability to think on my feet, a hurricane of emotions gathering strength as I watched my past and my future colliding in my present.

  “Who the fuck is this?” Sebastian murmured quietly. While he addressed me, his laser sharp attention remained fixed on Alek.

  “I’m her fiancée,” Alek answered in perfect English.

  “Sebastian, let’s go,” I said more sternly. By the look on Sebastian’s face the proverbial crap was about to hit the fan, the tension escalating by the second. This needed to end now. Turning, I began to walk to the car.

  “How can I get a hold of you?” Aleks’ gentle plea tugged at my heart. I replied in the same language, Albanian, to get my cell number from Emilia, who was cowering near the table with a chastened look on her face. And after directing a well-earned furious glare in her direction, I stepped into the Bentley. A beat later Sebastian slid into the back of the car beside me.

  He stared out the window, his jaw locked, his hand clenched in a tight fist.


  “Bear, can you please take us to the apartment?”

  “Yes ma’am,” he answered, although only after his eyes connected with Sebastian’s in the rear view mirror, who gave his consent with a nod. Any illusion that I had choices was just that, a carefully orchestrated illusion.

  Not a word was said the entire car ride home, nor in the elevator. As soon as we entered the apartment, he stormed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge. I threw my purse down on the couch, and watched him walk over to the wall of windows that overlooked the lake. The stiffness in his stride worried me.

  Out the window, the sun hung low in a cloudless sky, the light reflecting off the water as gold crescents. The peace and tranquility of the view was in sharp contrast to what was about to transpire inside the apartment. He turned, one hand on his hip and the other clutching the bottle. Staring a hole through me, he said, “Start talking.”

  My eyes narrowed. “I suggest you lose the attitude. I’m no longer one of your employees, darling. Snapping and barking at me won’t get you the results you want.”

  Undeterred, he continued in the same tone. “Who the fuck was that?”

  I breathed out a loud sigh of frustration. The ability to reason was beyond him when he was like this. “The man I was engaged to six years ago.”

  He held his silence. His eyes alert in anticipation of what was to come, urging me to continue. I walked to the couch and slumped down in it, my elbows on my knees, my focus falling on my clasped hands. I picked at the nail bed of my thumb as I began telling him the story.

  “I was eighteen when I saw him the first time on campus. What I didn’t know was that he was my father’s new teaching assistant––he was doing post doctoral work in political science. That was when my father was still head of the Political Science Department. Alek didn’t have any family left so my father kind of took him under his wing. He started spending a lot of time at the house…things just grew from there.” I braved a look at Sebastian’s face and found his attention riveted on me.