by Talyn Scott
“Like I said, I’m scaling down the original sizes to speed delivery. And, uh, it’s hard to turn down what Drake Easton threw at me. So I’ll put off other awaiting clients for the time being and hire all the help I need.”
Vania bit back her curiosity, wouldn’t be rude by asking how much it took to make all of that happen. “Drake wants the fundraiser to work.” Anytime an Easton wanted something, he took it. “For Avery especially.”
“Vania.” Jon lifted her hand to his mouth in old world charm. “Your fundraiser will work. You have nothing to worry about.”
“I’m looking forward to the help.”
“Vania?”
“Dr. Murphy?”
Jon gave her hand an affectionate squeeze and excused himself, only leaving after she’d promised to come by his studio and check out his paintings one day soon.
“I thought that was you.” Dr. Murphy gave her a peck on the cheek, and then glanced around. “Was Matt called in or just working late at the office?”
Vania’s head snapped up, clearly able to see the fourth floor landing where Matt and three other surgeons shared an office. Goosebumps erupted on her skin. “He was called to the emergency room.”
Dr. Murphy balanced on his heels for a second, stretching his back. “I’ve been in emergency for the past six hours.” He swung his arms around, knocking out the kinks. “Matt’s not in tonight.” Then his face tightened as he tried to bail out his friend. “I mean —"
She waved a casual hand, though her heart started pounding in her chest. “I must’ve heard wrong, terrible cellphone connection.”
He mock shuddered. “The horrors of cellphone connections.”
“Have you seen Jon LuVre’s artwork?” She deftly changed the subject. “He’s amazing.”
“Only what he’s done for the hospital.” Dr. Murphy looked relieved, probably thinking she was the ignorant fiancée. So what? Let him think whatever he wanted. “LuVre draws a crowd, that’s for sure.”
“Our upcoming fundraiser has the crowd.” Her stomach twisted as her mind whirled through the endless possibilities of why Matt had lied. “We need the artwork.” With a perfunctory glance at her watch, she said, “Early day tomorrow.” She started down the steps. “I’d better get home. Goodnight.”
“Good to see you again, Vania.”
She stopped halfway down the stairs and waited for Dr. Murphy to turn the corner. When she spotted an all clear, Vania made her way to the elevators. Within the empty car, her hand shook when she punched button number four.
“What’s going on, Matt?” she whispered as the elevator shot upward.
After she stepped from the elevator to the corridor leading to Matt’s office, her phone rang. She pulled it from the pocket stitched to the side of her purse.
Crap!
D. Easton was calling.
He probably phoned to check in on her meeting with Jon. Vania blew out a breath, her thumb hovering over the screen for several seconds. No, Drake would have to wait. She turned off her phone and put it away
Vania picked up her steps, walking through the darkened corridor, save for a few flickering exit signs. But as she neared Matt’s office, she could see light spilling from beneath his door.
When she stepped closer, a distinct noise sounded that Vania hadn’t heard as of late: Matt was about to come.
A woman’s groan matched his.
She pressed her ear to the door, the unmistakable sounds of pounding sex instantly meeting her ears. More moans and groans joined a distinct wet smacking that had nothing to do with kisses.
Vania pulled her ear away and flattened her hands against the door to peer in the sliver of window. Later she would be thankful she saw nothing because hearing was painful enough. In that moment, however, Vania’s anger brought her hand down hard on the door lever. All sounds stopped, except for Vania’s heart thundering in her ears.
“Vania,” a man whispered.
Vania reeled back, grabbing at her chest as Dr. Murphy appeared at her side. He pressed a finger to his lips. Then took her hand in his and pulled Vania away.
Chapter 6
In a dreamlike state, Vania allowed Dr. Murphy to lead her past several examination rooms. He eventually stopped inside a well-lit phlebotomy station.
He pulled out a cup of cranberry juice from the refrigerator and broke the seal. “Drink this.”
“I don’t need juice at a time like this, Dr. Murphy.” Maybe that wasn’t even Matt in his office but another man; she thought, grasping at hope.
“Call me Alan.” He placed the cup in Vania’s hand, his eyes dropping to her engagement ring. “Right now, a little sugar is what you need.”
She took a tentative sip. It tasted sweet, tart, and refreshing going down. And she probably wouldn’t drink it again after tonight. “You heard what’s going on in there. If it’s Matt —"
“It is Matt, Vania.”
“He’s done this before.” She hadn’t asked a question but Alan nodded anyway. “How often? Is it the same woman every time?”
“For at least three months with this woman, though I don’t know if there are others.” He placed the gentlest touch on Vania’s trembling shoulder.
“Let me by.” She pushed at his chest. “I’m going to kill him.”
“And you’ve got every right to. But, Vania, I’ve walked in your shoes. If I had to do it again, I would’ve held on to every string of my dignity. I wouldn’t have allowed Gayle to see me the way I’m seeing you right now. I would have told her I didn’t want her anymore, dumped her without letting her know I’d caught her cheating.”
“Pretend I don’t know about him fucking another woman?” Vania couldn’t imagine that. She wanted to run over Matt with her car. Repeatedly. Better yet, she wanted to run over Matt with his Mercedes. Why ding up her car? “That makes no sense.”
“Sleep on it and it might.” He leaned his hip against the counter, his blue eyes blazing with pain. “Tell Matt you’re dumping him for any other reason than the obvious. Hell, tell him his dick doesn’t satisfy you. Tell him you found another. Anything is better than looking stricken and vulnerable in the eyes of a cheater.”
A sob broke out, but she managed to rein it in. “I can’t do that. It hurts too much.”
“If the breakup is on your terms, you dumping him, Matt’s ego will have a hard time accepting it. Who better to tell you this than a man? Then you’ll leave him to face the garbage of his life with your head held high. It’s called dignity, Vania. Take yours back. God knows Matt’s shredded it enough as it is.”
Rash decisions were always bad ones. “Yeah, I’ll think about it.” Vania pushed past him, fighting back tears, but he caught her arm before she turned the corner.
“You can call my office if you need anything. I’ll help in any way I can.”
“I won’t involve you. After all, Matt is your friend.” Vania turned her cellphone back on. She winced when spotting six missed calls from D. Easton.
“Was my friend,” he corrected, “until he started fucking my wife.”
She braced her hand on the wall, supporting her buckling knees. “Gayle is in there with Matt?”
“You think I would have given her up otherwise?”
“This can’t be happening.”
“We haven’t even gone to court yet,” Alan continued. “The divorce hearing’s a month away, but Gayle and Matt can’t stop, even while knowing I’m working across the hall or a floor below.”
So she had to ask. “What’s stopping you from ripping that door off its hinges and —"
“I finally realized Gayle’s not worth it. Neither is Matt, by the way.” He ran his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes for a second, but he couldn’t hide the pain. “And she’s taking me for every dime I have. Or at least she thinks she is. I have three private investigators on her. By the time our case goes to court, my attorneys while have such an ironclad case built against Gayle that she’ll be on her knees begging for my scraps.”<
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“I don’t know what to say.” Digesting all this information proved impossible. If not for the juice settling her churning stomach, Vania would have vomited. “I’m stunned.”
“I’ve been there.” He nodded. “On many days, I’m still there.”
“I don’t know how you work around Matt while keeping your temper in check.”
“It’s not easy.” He looked up at the ceiling for a second and took a deep breath. “Around Christmas, I first caught Gayle cheating, not with Matt, but with another man. Maybe Matt doesn’t know about him or perhaps doesn’t care. But neither Gayle nor Matt realizes I’m on to them.”
Vania wouldn’t tip off Matt, either. “I wish I had a portion of your strength.”
“You’ll find it once the shock wears off. Remember, my divorce hearing is a month away. That’s when Gayle’s extramarital affairs with Matt and the other bastard will be aired. In the meantime, if you do what I recommended, you’ll keep what’s left of your pride.” He lifted her chin with the crook of his finger. “Vania, that’s worth more than you realize.” Alan took her hand and started leading her down the hall. “Go home and think carefully about how you’re going to handle this.”
Home? The place she shared with Matt? How could she go back there?
“Goodnight, Alan.”
“Try and get some sleep.”
Vania was numb by the time she made it to her car. Every few seconds she reminded her body to breathe, to take some air inside her lungs then exhale.
Her phone buzzed again. She’d lost count on calls from D. Easton. Without a doubt, Vania would be reprimanded first thing tomorrow morning. But right now, talking to Drake or anyone else was impossible.
It took three tries before she got her car door open. Somehow, Vania slid behind the steering wheel, though she didn’t remember getting in the car. She rubbed the knee she banged on the gearshift and glanced at the dashboard clock. Only ninety minutes passed since she first parked there.
She rested her forehead on the steering wheel, dropped her arms, and closed her eyes. Could she stay right here, not move for another ninety minutes or maybe a year? “How could my entire life change in ninety minutes?”
“Miss Lange?”
Vania peeked from the corner of her eye. Surely Drake Easton wasn’t kneeling next to her with Evan standing right behind him.
“You’re here,” Vania managed. “Both of you are here.”
“Yes,” Evan said. “Come out, Vania.”
She shook her head no. “My legs are on a labor strike.”
Leaning in with his forearm braced against the dashboard, Drake moved his eyes up and down her slumping form. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” She turned away her face and let her forehead land back on the steering wheel.
“Are you sick?” Evan asked.
Fingertips prodded her forehead, and then eased her face from the steering wheel. She kept her eyes downcast as tears fell like fat raindrops. With care, Drake cupped her face in one hand and swiped her cheek with his thumb. She registered that his hand was so large that his fingertips came well past her temple. But due to his great stature, this made sense.
“Answer Evan.”
“No, I’m not sick.” That was debatable, however, as flashbacks of Matt and Vania’s good times flicked through her mind in a dizzying whirl: last Christmas, his parents’ annual barbecue, the trip to Rome for which they’d saved two years. Funny how only loving memories assailed her though Matt had betrayed her.
Drake whispered, “Look at me.”
Vania felt her eyelids flutter on their own volition, her head lifting to obey his command. How did he do that? “Yes?”
With his hand still cupping her face, Drake circled her temple with strong, warm fingertips. But those amber eyes glittered beneath the post light, giving away to his rising anger. She recoiled when he barked, “Did Jon LuVre say or do something to upset you?”
“No.” She cleared her throat. “Jon was a gentleman, and the meeting went well.”
His fingers still circling, the storm in Drake’s eyes slowly dissipated. “Why are you crying?”
Evan added, “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“Are you really here, looking for me?” she countered, stunned.
Drake never wavered, kept his eyes locked with hers. “I was working late at the office. You were working late here. Then I got a bad feeling.” He chewed his bottom lip, the one she always thought of as sexy-pouty.
“You wouldn’t answer your phone,” Evan reiterated.
He got a bad feeling, about her? What did that even mean? “You both went to a lot of trouble to check on me, and I appreciate your concern.” The sudden trembling in her body hit right before her blood-boiling fury came back, smacking Vania in her broken heart. “But I need to get home.”
Alan Murphy’s advice rang in her head. And the way she appeared right now, in front of Drake and Evan Easton no less, wasn’t what she wanted Matt to see. No, he didn’t deserve to see Vania on the verge of brokenness. When he next saw her, Matt would find a strong woman without anguish, one who wasn’t reeling from what he’d done to her. So she needed to pack a bag tonight and leave before he caught her.
Drake found her fallen key fob on the floorboard and handed it to Evan. “I can’t let you drive in your condition.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he insisted, “Let me rephrase that, I won’t let you drive in your condition.”
Before Vania knew what was happening, Drake lifted her from the car and steadied her by his side. She’d been close to him on many occasions, but this was personal. Leaning against his side for support felt comfortable, as though she’d been relying on Drake for ages.
She spotted a blacked-out SUV idling behind her car.
Evan signaled and a driver stepped out and walked to them. “Charles can drive your car behind us.”
Without a word, Charles got in her car, handing out her purse, satchel, and cellphone to Evan’s awaiting hands.
“I’m really okay to drive, though.” She wiped at more falling tears.
Evan’s jaw clenched. “We insist.”
Drake walked Vania to the SUV and lifted her to the backseat. She thanked him after he got behind the wheel and buckled his seatbelt.
Evan sat next to Vania. He leaned toward her and fastened her seatbelt. “Don’t want you falling out.”
Drake drove down the parking lot and pulled into traffic. “Or jumping.”
“I’m not going to jump, Mr. Easton.”
Headlights from oncoming cars passed over the SUV, illuminating and then hiding his sharp profile. When they stopped at a traffic light, he glanced in the rearview mirror. “Call me Drake.”
“Okay.”
“Say it.”
“What?” She lifted her eyebrows, when Evan’s fingers weaved with hers. “Now?”
“Say my name, Vania.”
“If we’re going to get personal,” Evan explained. “We should be on a first name basis when outside the office.”
Vania felt fractured, her mind spinning like a top. “We’re getting personal?”
“She’s trembling,” Evan told Drake.
Drake adjusted the air-conditioning, a normal thing for anyone to do, though seeing a multibillionaire do it was odd. Usually Drake was in the backseat barking orders on his cellphone, while running his fingers over his laptop.
“Better?”
She couldn’t tell him her shivering had nothing to do with cool temperatures. “Yes, thanks.”
Evan curled his arm over her shoulders, tucking Vania against his warmth.
Her phone rang yet again, but she let it go to voice mail.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” asked Drake when the light changed. “What’s happening inside your head right now?”
“That’s personal.”
Evan dipped his head and kissed her forehead. “We’ve established that we’re getting personal.”
“You established that,” she po
inted out, unable to think straight. Where was she going tonight? Where would she live?
Her phone buzzed again, setting her teeth on edge. Vania figured the latest repeat caller was Matt. When she glanced at the screen, she confirmed her suspicions. At one point tonight, she would have to answer his call but not now.
Evan said, “I’m guessing the personal situation you refuse to discuss has something to do with your fiancé.”
Vania zeroed in on her engagement ring, wondering how much she could get for it. “What makes you say that?”
“You won’t answer his calls, either.”
Her face burned beneath her damp cheeks, and Evan tightened his arm around her. Vania had to admit it wasn’t a hardship being smashed against Evan Easton. “Please, stop looking at my phone.” What if Matt starting texting her? She didn’t want Evan reading any of that mess.
“But I’m worried about you.”
“I appreciate your concern.”
They sat in silence until Drake pulled in her driveway fifteen minutes later.
“I didn’t tell you my address.”
Drake glanced in the rearview mirror as Charles pulled up and parked next to them. “Your address is common knowledge at your place of employment.”
He’d memorized her address? “Thank you for everything, for coming when you did.” She grasped the door handle.
“Wait.” Drake reached over the seat and pressed her forearm with his fingertips, much the way he’d done earlier in his office. “We’ll walk you to the door.”
She stared hard at the house, felt her chin trembling.
“Vania?
She began sobbing with waves of pain and slobbering ugliness. She couldn’t control herself any more than she could control Matt’s disgusting behavior. And she started hyperventilating.
Arms wrapped around her, pulling her against a rock hard chest that smelled like man and unchallengeable power. “A woman cries this way for two reasons,” Evan said. “One, she’s grieving. Two, a man hurt her.”