Complicated (Aiden & Olivia Book 2)

by Stephanie Julian

  Living in Miami does bring up a few memories, mainly of heat and palm trees.

  “But when my mom got sick, we moved back. Since no one ever came after me, I figured I was clear and…then your mom got sick.”

  Dad doesn’t talk much about Reese and Bryant’s mother and neither do they. I don’t remember much about her, though I know it was her decision to keep me when Reese and Bryant brought me home that day. A few years later, she got pneumonia but never went to a doctor because they didn’t have the money. When she finally got too sick to function, Dad took her to the emergency room. She never left the hospital.

  I have vague memories of her that are more like impressions and I have a picture of her that I keep by my bed. She’s holding me and smiling like she won the lottery. I’m staring at her like I’m in awe. Maybe I was. Like I said, I don’t remember much. She died when I was six.

  “But you think what’s going on now has something to do with what happened back then?”

  He nods. “Yeah. That paper the guy gave you, it’s a list of names. That same list of names was in the file I stole twenty years ago.”

  Unease creeps into my stomach, making me queasy. “All of them?”

  “Yeah. That’s not coincidence. Twenty years ago, someone went to a hell of a lot of trouble to make sure whoever was involved in that robbery paid with their lives. And now Vincenzo wants me to steal a file with the exact same list of names? Something’s not right. Which is why we need to identify this guy from last night. Nothing about this situation is adding up. And the more I think about it, the more I twitch.”

  My brain races, trying to put pieces together, to find connections.

  “You’re the smart one in the family, brat.” Bryant’s deep voice draws my attention and I find him watching me with a steady gaze. “You think it’s related, or is it all just a coincidence?”

  Since I’m still alive because of coincidence, and because I don’t believe in fate, I have to consider it as a possibility. Not everything is a conspiracy. Most times the simplest answer is the right one. But…

  “Did you ever do anything with the information you stole? You said you kept a copy.”

  Dad grimaces and my stomach rolls.

  “A few years ago, when Maylyn got sick, I sold Vincenzo that file. I figured someone like him would have use for it. I didn’t tell him how I got it. I let him think I’d gotten it from someone else. I gave him everything I had, didn’t keep a damn thing because if anyone ever caught me with it, they’d figure out I was the one who stole it.”

  I’m frowning harder now and my temples are throbbing. “Why would Vincenzo want you to steal something he already has?”

  “That’s the problem. I don’t know. Everything’s business with him but he’s not usually vindictive. That’s why the threat against you kids didn’t sit well. That’s not his style. And until you showed me that list, I had no idea any of this was related to that other job. But when I saw those names, I knew something was screwy.”

  “So this has something to do with your past crimes coming back to bite you in the ass.” Bryant’s drawl grates. “Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”

  Dad shakes his head. “No, it wouldn’t. But that means someone’s using Vincenzo, and to do that, they have to be a lot more powerful.”

  I look at my brothers. Neither of them are smiling and the knot in my stomach gets a little tighter.

  “So you think someone finally traced the original job back to you and now… What? They’re using Vincenzo to screw with you? Why haven’t they just taken you out like they did everybody else? They obviously know where to find you.” I shake my head. “What did you steal to begin with?”

  “Lists of names, spreadsheets of numbers. If I had to guess, it was probably a second set of books. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it.”

  “What company? Whose company?”

  “I have no idea. As far as I know, it was owned by a shell corporation. I never found a name associated with it and when I sold that file to Vincenzo, I forgot about the damn thing. Now you come home with information from that file…” Dad shakes his head. “We need to find out who that guy is.”

  Shit.

  Where exactly does Aiden fit into all of this, and why does he have the information my dad is being strong-armed into getting?

  Aiden has to be involved in some way with the scheme against my dad. That’s the only explanation that makes sense.

  And even though I know that, I still want to know why he wants me to fuck him to get the information.

  “Livvie? What’s going through your head right now?”

  Reese stares at me with that look again, the one that makes me think he can read my mind. If he could, I have no doubt he’d stuff me in a room without windows and lock the door if he knew what I’d agreed to do with Aiden.

  Who’s probably involved in whatever the hell’s going on.

  I need to know. I have to make him tell me. I have a feeling I’m not going to like his answer.

  “Honestly?” I stare back at Reese. “I need to sleep. My brain hurts.”

  “You’re not going back there tomorrow, at least not until we know who the hell he is.”

  I shake my head at Dad’s demand. “I can handle myself—”

  “Liv—”

  “No.” I have to be clear about this because if my brothers or my dad find out exactly what’s going on with Aiden, they’ll kill him. I can’t let them do that. At least not until I figure out what the hell is going on. “Listen, either you trust me or you don’t. It’s that easy.”

  “Damn it, Liv, you know I trust you.” Dad’s frustration bleeds into his voice. “And I’m not questioning your ability. I’m worried about—”

  “Dad, take a breath.”

  Bryant’s sharp command cuts through Dad’s response like a blade and the resulting silence allows us all to breathe.

  “Liv.”

  Bryant’s eyes are a shade darker than Dad’s and his gaze is at least five times more intense. But that’s Bryant. The dictionary should have a picture of my brother next to the definition of intense. It makes him catnip to a certain kind of woman. Maylyn and I spent most of our childhoods trying to get him to laugh. And most of our teen years exasperated by his overbearing protection.

  “We need to know who this guy is.” His tone brooks no denial. “Get me everything you have and I’ll find someone to track your ghost. If we don’t find him by tomorrow, you don’t go back and we’ll find some other way to get what Dad needs to take care of this problem.”

  Now they’re ganging up on me. So I do the only thing I can.

  I reach into my pocket and pull out the flash drive with all the information I’d been able to find on Aiden and hand it to Bryant.

  Then I lie through my teeth.

  “Fine. I won’t go unless we know who he is.”

  Reese’s gaze burns like lasers into me. He knows I’m lying but he won’t rat me out. Bryant likes to think I’m smarter than I am so, while he’s suspicious, he wants to believe me. Dad just looks relieved.

  There’s no way in hell I’m not going back there tomorrow night, not only because Dad needs that information but also because I’m obsessed.

  I haven’t been able to think about anything other than having more sex with Aiden since I woke this afternoon. Images from last night keep rolling through my head like a movie. And it’s a film I want to repeat.

  And some part of me knows that when I find out who Aiden really is, everything will change.

  Chapter Six

  Aiden

  Half an hour before Olivia is supposed to arrive, my front door opens.

  I know who it is because the perimeter alarm notified me someone had turned onto the lane and the security camera revealed my visitor’s car.

  A car I knew well because I’d bought it.

  “Aiden!” My sister manages to draw out my name to six syllables. “Hey, Aiden, where are you?”

  I intercept Gisell
e in the foyer. My sister always manages to put a smile on my face, but tonight… Damn it, I’ve got to get rid of her.

  “Hello, little sister. What’s wrong? What do you need?”

  Her eye roll is worthy of an Olympic gold medal, but she throws her arms around my neck and hugs me tight. I return the affection before she pulls away and crosses her arms over her chest.

  “Why do you always assume something’s wrong or that I need something when I come to visit?” She doesn’t give me time to answer, just blithely rolls on. “Come out with me tonight. I haven’t seen you in forever! And I promise this isn’t a ploy to introduce you to someone. Even though you seriously need to get out.”

  When she finally stops for a breath, I take in the vision that is my twenty-three-year-old sister. We share the same dark eyes and dark hair. But that’s where the resemblance ends.

  She’s five-ten and slim as a runway model, and a carbon copy of her mother, an actual Paris model who managed to get my father to propose.

  Dressed for a night at the club in black pants and something silver on top that might’ve been a shirt before someone took a scissors to it, she wears stiletto-heeled pumps that give her an extra four inches of height, bringing her eyes level with mine.

  I love the fact she doesn’t give a shit that she’s going to tower over most other men she might meet tonight.

  “Good to see you too, Elle. But I can’t go out with you tonight and I could’ve saved you the trip out here if you’d called.”

  Her brows rise and she gives me a look I remember well from her childhood. “See, I knew you’d say that, which is why I’m here.”

  I grin, even though I know she’s going to be pissed at me. “Not tonight, brat. I’m busy.”

  Her long-suffering sigh is overly dramatic but gets her point across. “You’re always working. You know that’s not good for you.” Her hands move to her hips. “And you’re going to hate this but I’m going to say it anyway. You need to be a little more like Dad and get away from the business more.”

  Because it’s coming from Giselle, I don’t get my back up. She’s one of three people in the world I allow to talk to me like this. The other two are my brothers.

  “I would if I could but I am busy tonight. I’ve got a conference call in fifteen minutes.” I make a show of looking at my watch, selling the lie. “And someone’s got to work so you can have all that play money.”

  A huff accompanies the eye roll this time. “Oh please. It’s not like I’m not going to school and working at the magazine when I’m not in class. I have more than enough money for what I want. But what I really want is to spend time with you.”

  Her guilt trip pricks at my heart, but I’m grinning by the time she finishes. “You know I’m just yanking your chain.”

  Her pout is adorable. “I know that. But, Aiden, seriously, I love you to pieces and I know you love me, but you’ve got to get out of this rut. You’re going to end up like Granddad, bitter and miserable.”

  The insult is an old one and usually rolls off my back, but Giselle must see something on my face because she reaches for my arm and squeezes. “And there goes my mouth again. I’m sorry. I know you idolize the man, but even you have to admit I’m right about him. I don’t want to see you end up like him. And yes, I know, I’m a bitch. Please forgive me.” Then she smiles again and all is right in the world. “So? Are you going to come out with me tonight?”

  And that’s Giselle in a nutshell. So much fire and life and a mouth that doesn’t quit.

  “Told you, I can’t. You’ll have more fun without me anyway. And I actually do have a meeting.”

  She throws her hands in the air and shakes her head. “Ugh! You’re so boring. Jesus, Aiden. When was the last time you got laid?” Her eyes widen and she waves her hands in front of her. “Oh please, don’t answer that. It was rhetorical. But just think about your answer. Okay?” A huge sigh. “All right, gotta go. I’m meeting Rosalynde in half an hour. Love you.”

  She hugs me fast then heads for the door but turns before she opens it. “But the next time I ask, you will go out with me.”

  Then the whirlwind that’s my sister slips through my front door and disappears while I stand there, shaking my head.

  Seconds later, her Fiat Spyder revs and tires squeal as she pulls away. She drives as fast as she talks. Which is good because, Christ, that’d been close.

  I look at my watch. Another ten minutes and Olivia will be here.

  What would Elle think of Olivia? They’re such opposites. Would they hate each other on sight?

  Not that it matters, because Elle will never meet Olivia. She’ll always be a dirty little secret in my closet. One that leaves me hard and aching whenever I think of her.

  A low-level charge has been running through my body all day, like I’ve got a live wire attached to my skin. I’ve been hyperaware of everything, easily distracted and irritable.

  All because of tonight.

  Almost everything is going according to plan. And the alterations I made to the original plan are turning out better than I’d hoped.

  Olivia will be back tonight. I’ll have her again. And drive another nail in her father’s back every time I make her come.

  I check my watch again. I can’t help but wonder if she’ll back out.

  And if she does, what are you going to do about it?

  For starters, I’ll give Vincenzo the okay to take Maloney out. The bastard deserves to pay for his crimes. That’s the whole point of this.

  If she doesn’t show up tonight… I’ll be disappointed but it won’t matter. I’ll find a way to make sure Patrick Maloney knows I’m responsible for his downfall and that I fucked his daughter.

  I want to fuck her again. I crave her like I’ve never craved anyone. But that doesn’t mean a damn thing to my plans.

  Since I know I’m not going to get any more work done, I head to the kitchen. I want something harder than soda but I’ll wait for her to get here.

  I don’t make it. I hear her knock on the front door and stop in my tracks. My heart starts to pound, but I force myself to take a breath and open the door.

  She stands on the porch and her gaze locks with mine immediately. She looks bored, maybe even a little contemptuous. I want to smile but keep it contained. No need to rile her up already.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d show.”

  Her brows rise. “Did I have a choice?”

  “Of course you did.”

  She shrugs, causing her breasts to rise beneath her purple t-shirt. “You and I obviously have a different understanding of coercion.”

  I appreciate her attempt to get the upper hand early. If she were a pushover, I wouldn’t have been anticipating her arrival all day.

  “You can leave at any time.”

  She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she walks by me and into the house as if she owns the place. That confidence makes me want to grab her, push her against the door, and fuck her now.

  But I know the sex will be better if I deny myself a little while longer.

  And I want to see her spread out on the bed on the third floor, ropes wound around her wrists and ankles and her naked body on display for my eyes only.

  Closing the door, I walk to the center of the foyer and watch her. She’s dressed in a plain t-shirt, battered Chuck Taylor sneakers, and worn jeans that cling to every slight curve and make my mouth water.

  She’s obviously not dressed to impress. But I’ve found that no matter what she’s wearing or not wearing, I want her with the same burning desire.

  “If I leave, I won’t get what I came for, now will I?”

  Passing by the door to the formal living room, which I never use, she dismisses it without a second glance.

  Her fingers trail along the molding on the wall as she pauses at the entrance to the media room. I suck in much-needed air as I watch her fingers stroke the carved wood. I swear I can still feel her fingers stroking along my cock like she’d done Tuesday night.<
br />
  My cock throbs inside my jeans, pressing against the zipper with intent. But I’m not about to be ruled by my dick. At least, not yet. There’ll be enough time for that later.

  Right now, I’m content to let her explore, let her steady herself. “You can go in if you want.”

  With a quick glance over her shoulder at me, she steps into the doorway but doesn’t enter. “I wasn’t aware this was a social visit. I’m here to complete this deal and that’s all.”

  She’s not wrong. And for some reason, that pisses me off. But I swallow a sharp comeback, and when I don’t respond, she disappears into the room.

  I follow until I’m standing in the doorway she just vacated.

  Beside the library and my bedroom, the media room gets the most use. I have an extensive film noir library, everything from the fifties to today. Movies look amazing on the theater-quality projection system.

  My record collection fills an entire wall. Vinyl, of course. Jazz, standards, some classical. Metal and rock. Michael Jackson.

  She’s staring at the DVDs like she can learn something about me just by looking at the titles. Maybe she can. Doesn’t matter. She’s here and she’s going to give herself to me again tonight. That’s all that matters right now.

  “I thought you’d like a little time to get acclimated before I take you to bed.”

  She strolls over to the albums and begins to leaf through the sleeves. “So we’re actually going to use a bed tonight. I thought I’d be spreading my legs in your office again.”

  I had expected her to come out swinging and I’d told myself I could handle it. But her attempt to piss me off is starting to work. I take a breath before answering.

  “If that’s what you want, we can go back to the library. I had something else planned.”

  Her eyes narrow. “You do a lot of planning, don’t you?”

  It’s a rhetorical question but I can’t not respond. “We seem to have a lot in common.”