by Petrova, Em
“Shit. I hope this isn’t contagious,” Neil remarked sardonically. “My advice? A grand gesture. Do something for her no one else can.”
“That sounds complicated.”
“Wouldn’t be worth it if it weren’t a challenge.”
“Indeed. Such as? Fill her apartment with exotic flowers? Walk on broken glass?” he joked.
“You think buying some plants that’ll die in a few days will change her mind? Come on, Savant, you’re cleverer than that. She’s got to trust you again.”
“I’ve never done this before.”
Neil grabbed a beer and twisted off the top. “You know her better than I do. I’m sure you’ll think of something. It doesn’t have to be over-the-top or expensive, you know. Appeal to the heart. It’ll cost you, but not in the way you’re used to.”
Logan shook his head with a half smile. “Listen to you. Back in college, your idea of wooing a girl was showing her dance moves from boy-band music videos.”
“Yeah, and it worked every time!”
Logan laughed heartily. The sound almost foreign to him, it’d been so long. “And now, suddenly, you’re a relationship expert. Since when did you become so wise?”
“Watching and learning from afar, my friend. Way, way afar.” Neil smirked.
“Don’t act so smug. This could happen to you someday.”
“What have I ever done to deserve that?” Neil exclaimed as voices sounded from the door. More of their friends had arrived, and the Jordana discussion was over.
Logan gave Neil’s suggestion serious contemplation, knowing he had the right notion. All night while his friends drank his beer and watched the fight—the second one in a row he’d paid no attention to—he formulated, considered, and then trashed idea after idea, uninspired. What could he do for Jordana that would convince her he was worth another shot?
Chapter Seventeen
As Jordana walked up the stairs to her floor, she heard music coming from her apartment. Did she leave the TV on? She wouldn’t be surprised. It’d been a week since Logan had stopped by, and she’d been in a subtle daze ever since. Piper had dragged her out to a happy hour after work, but she didn’t get much happiness out of it.
Cautiously, she unlocked the door and the smell of Chinese food hit her nose. A suitcase and a hiker’s backpack were propped by the umbrella stand. What the…?
“Jo?”
That voice. Stunned, Jordana closed the door and went to turn down the Irish band blasting from her stereo.
Her eyes confirmed her ears. Her ex-fiancé, Zack, emerged from the kitchen, chopsticks in one hand and a container of noodles in the other. Other than the fact his light brown hair had grown a couple inches and he’d lost some weight, he hadn’t changed, boyishly attractive in his long-sleeved plaid shirt and dark jeans. Grinning, he set his takeout meal on a side table and strode over.
“Holy cow, you look great!” he said, grasping her elbows, eyes raking her. “Seriously, Jo, a few months away from me did you good.”
Shock held her immobile. “Zack.” She couldn’t believe her eyes. No phone call. No email. No text message. Not even a postcard. If Casey hadn’t given her the heads-up weeks ago, she would’ve been truly blindsided. She’d forgotten all about Zack’s impending return.
Zack took her speechlessness as amusement. Chuckling, he slid his arms around her in a tight, intimate hug, softly moaning as he buried his nose in her hair. His Tommy Boy cologne and slim, strong frame holding her were familiar, but revolting. Once upon a time, she would have melted in his arms, but a wealth of feelings, none of them resembling anything akin to warmth, overwhelmed her. Ones she’d tried all last summer to bury and suffocate.
Stiffening, she pushed him away for space, the shock wearing off. Not since last spring had she set eyes on him, and she just couldn’t let him hug her as if it was no big deal. “How did you get in here?”
He didn’t falter at all at her tone. “My key.”
She’d forgotten to ask for her spare a long time ago. For those first few surreal weeks after he left, some deluded part of her had hoped he would change his mind and come back to her. Beg for her forgiveness and tell her he’d been insane to leave. So she hadn’t demanded the return of her extra key. Couldn’t accept they were truly over. What a pathetic, sad girl she’d been. “Did it even occur to you to call me? I haven’t heard from you in months, and you just walk into my home like we saw each other yesterday?”
Stepping back, Zack put his hands on his hips, head hanging. “You’re upset. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come at you like that. When you walked in the door, you looked so pretty, and I just couldn’t help myself! I wanted to surprise you, baby. To be honest, I thought you’d rather me do this in person than send some lame-ass text.”
Baby? He had no right to use endearments anymore. She wondered what truly brought him home. Broke? Bored? “This is…I…don’t know what to think. What do you want from me?”
He pressed his lips together, twisting them as though embarrassed to admit the reason. “I made a mistake. I went over there, but I got over it sooner than I thought would. I missed you. These past couple months, all I could think about was coming back and making things right between us.”
That was his explanation? He couldn’t handle life abroad, missed her, and wanted to “make things right”? She crossed her arms. “You weren’t gone for a couple of weeks; you’ve been off the radar since March. My life didn’t come to a stop just because our relationship did. I’ve moved on.”
“Come on, Jo. I gave it a few months out there, so what? Point is, whatever I was going through, I got it out of my system. A new man who knows what he wants now. Who knows what he lost. How can you still be so angry? If I’d waited until after we got married to take off, would that have been better?”
Nice try. “Don’t twist this around to assuage your guilt. You think we can just pick up where we left off?” she exclaimed. Her ex-fiancé stared at her, hopeful, and she threw up her hands. “You’re out of your mind. You broke my heart. You dumped me, packed your bags, flew out of the country, and left me to handle the mess. I was the one who had to tell everyone what happened and face the endless humiliation alone. It was me who had to pay off thousands in credit card debt.” A hot lump formed in her throat, recalling the crushing sadness she had to deal with on top of all the financial and technical details of a canceled wedding. Merchants and vendors didn’t care if your life was shattered and your fiancé bailed. They were still owed money. She’d sold her ring to pay for a portion of it.
“I can only imagine how rough that must’ve been.” He appeared genuinely regretful. However, Zack had a way of manipulating her, even at her most livid. He could persuade her to accept responsibility for them both, with the vulnerable claim he was so out of his depth when it came to adult situations. His boyish nature was one of the reasons she’d fallen for him. Why she thought that was sexy once upon a time, she had no idea. Now it was grating.
He licked his lips, cracking his knuckles. Sweat broke out on his upper lip. “I put you through a lot, I know. You were good to me, and I blew it big time because I was in a selfish phase. I should’ve been here to help you with the bills and stuff. As soon as I get a job, I’ll pay you back. I swear.”
She let out a trembling breath and shifted her gaze to the floor. “I don’t need your money, Zack. I just want to put this all behind me.”
“Me too. The bad parts, I mean. Don’t think about how much I screwed up. Think about us. Everyone said we were good for each other.” When she didn’t remark, didn’t agree, he must’ve decided to take a different tactic. “Remember the time we went camping and got lost? How we tried to come up with ways for survival, only to figure out we were just twenty yards from the campground? We couldn’t stop laughing. How about the time you threw me a surprise birthday party and the restaurant lost your reservation? We took over some dive bar and had the greatest night ever with our friends.”
Of course, she reme
mbered. Funny he should mention mutual friends she no longer spoke to. They found it too awkward. Reminiscing about the good old days couldn’t overpower the bad old days, however. Turning, she walked out to her balcony for some fresh air and gripped the rail. “People change, Zack. I’ve changed.”
“No way. It hasn’t even been a year,” he declared, following her outside. “Jo…I’m still in love with you. That doesn’t change overnight.” He came closer.
Maybe it hadn’t for him, but she’d been through a lot since their breakup. Not to mention, for the past month, she’d been falling for someone else. As his hands slid around her waist, she closed her eyes. He held her against him and kissed her shoulder. She searched for a response.
A reaction. A shudder. Anything.
Nothing. She felt nothing. Too much time had passed. Too much pain had been dealt. And Logan still had her heart. Putting her hands over his, she shook her head. “I can’t.”
He made her face him. “Look at me.” He cupped her jaw and an inner alarm went off. Stiffening, she didn’t have time to react before he pushed her up against the rail and pressed his lips to hers. He obviously thought this would help make his case—did all men assume a kiss washed away pain?—but when she didn’t give in to it, his kiss deepened.
She pushed him away, disgusted. “You have no right to touch me anymore, let alone kiss me.”
His eyes widened as if she’d slapped him. God knew he deserved to be.
“You want me to beg, is that it?” he asked with a hint of contempt and incredulity.
She shook her head with a tired sigh. “Of course not. I don’t want anything from you. Not even an apology. We’re done, Zack. I wish you the best, I honestly do, but I want you to leave.”
With wounded eyes, he raked a hand through his hair. “You sure?”
“What did you expect?” she cried. “To show up, admit you messed up, and I’d brush off everything you put me through? You’re insane if you think you can atone for all the damage now. It’s too little and extremely late to make amends.” Softening the sharpness of her tone, she crossed her arms. “You made your choice, Zack. It wasn’t me. It took me a while to realize what you did took courage. You weren’t ready to get married, you wanted a different life, and you went for it. For that, I can’t be angry with you anymore.”
She marched inside, sick to her stomach. Grabbing the doorknob, she saw Zack had stopped in the balcony door, hands resting on the jamb. Head hung, he quietly asked, “Is there someone else?”
Was he listening? It didn’t matter if there was or not. “I’m not in love with you anymore.” A small inner voice congratulated her for having the strength to say it. For so long, she never thought she would ever utter those words to Zack Pierson. To her surprise, it wasn’t that hard. Must’ve been a sign she truly meant it.
He lifted his gaze and stared at her for long, uncomfortable moments, as though waiting to see if she’d take it back. When she opened the door, he heaved a sigh and trudged over, collecting his bags. She offered him a wide berth so he wouldn’t try to pull her into his arms again.
“I, uh, lost my appetite,” he grumbled, glancing at his takeout food. He appeared lost, as if he hadn’t expected the night to turn out like this. “I brought your favorite. Shrimp fried rice.” Then he walked out of her apartment.
Before he reached the front steps of the building, she rushed after him and said, “My key.” When he looked at her with those abandoned-puppy eyes, she didn’t waver.
He dipped into his pocket and placed it in her hand.
She said nothing as she closed the door and sighed.
***
“And so are the days of our lives,” Casey sang on Jordana’s cell speakerphone an hour later as she sat in her bay window, knees up, watching cars go by. She’d poured a glass of wine and called her friend.
“What a drama,” Casey added. “First Logan, now your ex. Although it would’ve been quite the plot twist if you’d thought about giving Zack a second chance. I knew he’d want to reconcile with you. How predictable.”
“What about his job? Did he get that back at least?”
“No way. I told Russ if he rehired that loser, he’d have to find someone to replace me. Russ knows what’s up. He’ll give him a good reference with a good riddance. Despite his piss-poor relationship skills, Zack has talent in graphic design. Although I don’t see how he could’ve kept his skills fresh living abroad like Tom Sawyer. Whatever. He’ll get a job somewhere.”
It was a comfort to know Zack wouldn’t have any ties to her life again.
“But seriously, how are you?” Casey asked.
“I’m sane. A little shaken up,” she admitted, “but sane. Closure has a tendency to do that.”
“I’m just going to call you Lady Fierce from now on.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Don’t be humble! You broke it off with the to-kill-for handsome millionaire, and you stood up to your ex-fiancé. You’re kicking ass and taking names. I love this tough new you.”
Not so tough. She missed Logan more than ever. So much so, she’d watch her phone every night at two minutes after nine p.m. to see if he’d call, her heart hammering in anticipation. Then she’d panic, hoping he wouldn’t call because she might answer. But in the end, time would pass with no call and she’d scold herself. Did she honestly think Logan would still fight for her?
Fact was, she missed him, but that didn’t mean her decision had been the wrong one. Logan couldn’t give her what she wanted; she had to keep reminding herself of that. More than likely, he was counting his lucky stars and moving on with someone more suited, less complicated than her. She squeezed her eyes shut at the burn.
“Jordana. Helloooo. Did I lose you?”
She gave a start, and then reached for her wineglass. “No, still here. Sorry, I was…just thinking about something.”
“You mean someone.”
She sighed and took a sip, setting down her glass with a miserable moan. “How did you know?”
“Easy guess, Jordana.” A pause. “You have to get over him.”
Knowing she had to and doing it were two different things.
Chapter Eighteen
The only person in the room who didn’t flinch after Gerard Hamilton’s rant was Logan. As uncomfortable silence settled in the conference room, Harry, one of Logan’s managing directors, cleared his throat to remark, “Creating offshore trusts is complicated and requires careful legal planning for the transfer of assets, Mr. Hamilton.”
“I know that! What imbecile doesn’t know that?” Hamilton barked.
Though his employees were used to any manner of attitudes when it came to clients and their millions and billions, Logan decided to step in. “In California, the law considers the transfer of assets to be fraudulent if the assignment is done because of a pending, threatened, or claimed liability—such as the filing of a lawsuit, in your case. It’s in your best interest to allocate funds in an offshore trust because it’d be set up in a foreign jurisdiction. One that won’t be under the umbrella of the U.S. tax law authority.”
A pause. Crunching. More blood pressure pills. “Right, right. I knew that.”
“Then you also know you have many options,” Logan added, folding his hands. “I know Switzerland is the popular choice, and a wise one, but we have a solid relationship with the legislative branch of the Cook Islands in New Zealand. They’re the primary domiciliary of our trusts. My father and I both have offshore accounts with them. Over the years, they’ve adopted an excellent reputation in respect to their creditors. So, over the weekend, I’d like you to do your research and let us know how to proceed next week.”
“I’m not comfortable sending my money halfway around the world to a continent I’ve never been to.”
Logan checked the urge to groan.
“Switzerland is an ocean away as well, Mr. Hamilton,” Frank, one of his accountants, offered.
“Well, at least I’ve been to Sw
itzerland.”
“Mr. Hamilton,” Barbara chimed in with her soothing voice. “I’d like to point out a few things as well…”
Logan’s phone was set on silent, but he kept it in eyesight. The indicator light flashed. Since Barbara had Hamilton distracted for the moment, Logan tapped the screen to check his texts.
From Ashtyn: Triton Press called.
A smile stretched his mouth. He’d been waiting for that call for over two weeks. After talking to his connection in publishing, who spoke with an associate acquiring editor he knew at Triton, who shuffled Jordana’s submission to the head of the line, Logan was told the soonest he’d hear back would be a month.
Even if Triton didn’t take her on, he’d pull a few strings through his publishing connections and make it happen. Big or small, he’d make it happen. This was his grand gesture. To show he paid attention, that he cared. Then he’d tell her how he felt. Hopefully, it’d work.
Over a week ago, he’d impulsively sent her a massive bouquet of roses with a card, asking for another chance and to consider meeting him at the Bridges of Marin County gala. He had hoped now that some time had passed, there might exist a tiny possibility she’d show.
“Savant,” Gerard Hamilton’s voice grumbled through the speaker. “What do you think?”
Covering up the fact he’d missed the conversation, Logan rose, buttoning his jacket. “I’m flying to Hong Kong next week, Gerard. But how about I make a stop in New York on my way to my new office in Dallas this week? You and I have dinner and discuss any questions you may have?”
The old man’s tone lifted considerably. “Fine idea, Savant. Call my people.”
And with that, he ended the conference call, much his team’s visible relief.
“I appreciate everyone’s patience with this one,” Logan commented. “Good work.”
Another text from Ashtyn: Fair warning. Your mother is here.
Perfect timing as always, he thought. With long strides, he headed to his office. As he approached, Deidre was handing over the ginormous vase of lilies that sat by the visitor’s couch, instructing Ashtyn, “These need replacing, dear. Never let them go a day once they’ve wilted an inch.”