“I don’t know.”
He met her gaze and said softly, “We love each other.”
“So what?”
The casual dismissal of those words was like a stab in the heart. “So what?”
She held up her index finger. “We said it one time during sex. Big fucking deal.”
“It was a big deal to me.” His tone turned icy.
Her expression twisted with fury. “That’s not the point. The point is, you went about deciding the future of my life and business without even discussing it with me.”
“I wasn’t looking at it like that. I was helping you.”
“Bullshit!” she yelled. “You were helping yourself, trying to get what you wanted because it suited you. You didn’t discuss it with me. You didn’t even treat me like I matter. I’m just an afterthought in your plan to make our relationship mathematically possible.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I asked, you wouldn’t answer.”
“You didn’t ask, you hinted.” She jabbed a finger at him. “You said we’d need to discuss it soon. You didn’t lay out what you wanted, or tell me you wanted something more. Or that you were, I don’t know, wanting me to pick up my whole life and move to Chicago. It’s just like that first weekend. You didn’t have the balls to say you wanted to see me again, you just skirted around the issue, hoping I’d take the risk for you. And when I didn’t you calmly told me to have a safe trip.”
A sinking sensation filled his chest. Fuck. She was right. She had the capability to bring him to his knees. He understood she was leery of commitment, and he’d been afraid to push her. So instead of being direct, he’d been maneuvering her in hopes she wouldn’t notice he was pulling her deeper and deeper into a relationship.
All the frustrated anger drained away, leaving him shaken. There was only one thing left to do. Lay it on the line, risk his heart, and hope she could see the truth. “I’m sorry. I do love you and I need to be with you for more than a few days at a time. I want you to move to Chicago so we can be together all the time.”
She stared at him for several long, tension-filled moments, before shaking her head. “Well, that’s not going to happen.”
He took three steps and bridged the gap between them, grabbing her arm. “You don’t mean that.”
She wrenched her arm away. “I do.”
He narrowed his gaze, feeling desperate and mean. “You don’t think I know you’ve been waiting for this? Looking for some excuse to run away from what we have?”
She reared back as though he’d slapped her. “Well, you certainly gave me a good one, didn’t you?”
He pointed at her. “All your talk about being wild and crazy, but you’re just as scared as I am. You don’t want to be vulnerable. You don’t want to make a commitment. Maybe I wasn’t direct enough, but every time I mentioned anything that would hint at a future, you’d change the subject.”
“So this is my fault?”
“It’s both our faults.”
“How diplomatic of you,” she said with a sneer. When he opened his mouth to speak she held up a hand. “Just stop. Stop being so goddamn reasonable. Rage at me, tell me I’m a bitch, but stop trying to fix it.”
He wanted to, more than anything, but the more helpless he became, the more tightly his control clamped down around him. He’d trained himself so well, now he didn’t know how to turn it off. When he spoke, he sounded completely calm. Which he wasn’t. At all. “So, what? That’s it? One tiny slip-up and it’s over?”
“One tiny slip?” she screeched, and started to pace. “You went behind my back and planned my whole future without me.”
“I apologized.”
She came to an abrupt halt. She shook her head. “I’m leaving.”
No. She couldn’t leave. “Wait—”
“No. Just leave me the hell alone.”
And with that, she turned and stormed out of the building. Five seconds later, because of the fucking high-traffic area, a cab pulled up and she was gone.
James stood motionless in the cold, abandoned room and watched his future walk out of his life.
She didn’t even look back.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
She would not cry. Gracie stood on Shane and Cecilia’s doorstep and rang the bell insistently. She was furious. And heartbroken. But she refused to think about that now. Instead she focused on the rage seething in her belly.
Because if she stopped and thought about what had happened, James’s betrayal, she’d crumble. And she didn’t know how to put herself back together again.
Through the glass panes she watched Shane storm to the door, expression belligerent. Just to annoy him, she rang the doorbell two more times. A small, petty gesture, but she didn’t care. She was too angry, at him, at James . . . at everyone.
He threw open the door, that you’ve-got-some-explaining-to-do expression on his face. “What the hell, Gracie?”
“You!” she spat, jabbing him in the chest with her finger. “How could you?”
Cecilia padded into the grand two-story foyer in bare feet. “Gracie? What’s wrong?”
One look at her friend and bile rose in her throat, making it hard to talk. “How could you?”
Worry creased Cecilia’s brow, and she glanced at Shane. “How could I what?”
Gracie stomped through the doorway, boot heels angry jabs on their shiny hardwood floors. “I can’t believe you guys would go behind my back like that.”
The confusion on Shane’s face instantly cleared before flashing with guilt, while Cecilia’s face remained blessedly befuddled. She shook her head. “Go behind your back?”
A flash of relief filled Gracie as she realized her friend had no idea what the two idiotic brothers had done. She glared at Shane. “Are you going to tell her, or should I?”
Cecilia swung around to her fiancé, with narrowed gray-blue eyes. “What have you done?”
Shane held up his hands. “I can explain.”
“Explain what?” Cecilia’s tone was like the snap of a whip.
“Yeah, Shane, explain how you and your stupid brother took it upon yourselves to decide the future of my business without even consulting me.” Thank God, Cecilia hadn’t been involved; she wasn’t sure she could have handled that. But what about Maddie? No. Maddie would never agree to something so stupid. They’d been friends too long. But just to be sure she added, “What, did you have Mitch draw up the contracts too? Did the three of you decide to sign the lease for me?”
Shane shook his head. “I didn’t mention it to him. I didn’t get that far. I did draw up a few plans.”
“You what!?” Gracie screeched, her hands balled into fists. She was going to hit him. One good pop in the jaw. “You’re a dead man.”
“Look, I didn’t see the harm in helping,” Shane said, his tone defensive.
Her nails were digging into her palms. What is wrong with these Donovan men? “Help? How is it helping me?”
Shane shrugged, running a hand through his blond hair. “I thought it was a good idea at the time.”
“What is wrong with you?” Gracie’s head began to ache. “What if I did something like that to you?”
Shane’s expression turned to chagrin and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I was trying to help my brother. He needed help and I gave it to him. What did you expect me to do?”
Not even slightly moved by him playing the I-did-it-for-my-family card, she yelled, “Oh, I don’t know, say no!”
Cecilia shook her head. “I’m so confused. What is going on?”
“Now, baby—” Shane started, but Cecilia held up a hand.
“Don’t even think about it.” She turned back to Gracie. “Okay, what did they do?”
James called the only person he knew who wouldn’t ask any questions: his younger brother.
Thankfully, Evan had a home game this week. As football was the only thing Evan took seriously, he left most of h
is wild antics to the off season, which is why he ended up being home on a Friday night instead of out with one of his supermodels.
Evan opened the door to his penthouse bachelor-pad apartment with panoramic views of the city. “Hey.”
“I need liquor and lots of it,” James said. He’d had only one thought since he’d locked up the storefront and returned the key to the real estate agent: get as drunk as possible.
Because he couldn’t think about Gracie, or what had transpired between them. Or how their relationship was over.
Evan’s gaze widened and he stood back. “What happened to you?”
“Don’t want to talk about it,” James said, walking in.
Evan shrugged, and closed the door. “I’ve got anything you want.”
Which is why James had come. He needed to forget and he couldn’t go back to his house. All her stuff was there. She’d invaded his life. There wasn’t a room in his house that didn’t remind him of her. She was probably packing her stuff as he sat here.
He clenched his jaw. He’d have to move. There was no other way. Which was a shame because he loved his home. Had begun to think about Gracie in it, permanently. And now that wasn’t going to happen.
He’d think about it later. Now he’d get drunk, sit on his baby brother’s couch, and play video games so he wouldn’t have to think. Normally he was a red wine drinker, but that wouldn’t cut it, so he decided on a family favorite. “Whiskey.”
James sank onto Evan’s leather sectional sofa, which dominated the room along with a ridiculously large eighty-inch flat-screen filled with the scenes of an action movie already in progress. There was a huge explosion that vibrated through the surround sound and James winced. “Don’t your neighbors complain?”
“Soundproofing,” Evan said, walking into the industrial, ultramodern kitchen and opening up a cabinet.
James yelled over the sound, “Bring the bottle.”
A second later the bottle and a glass were in front of him. James picked up the liquor and poured a healthy drink before downing it in one big gulp. He poured another. “Can we turn that down?”
The gunshots were too loud in his head, reminding him of the carnage he’d left behind. He shot back another two fingers and the alcohol burned down his throat. He let out a hiss as it hit his stomach and poured some more.
Evan sat down and lowered the volume, his expression actually concerned. “What’s wrong?”
James tossed him a dirty look. He’d specifically come to Evan because he didn’t want to talk. “What’s the most violent video game you have?”
Evan raised one brow and said slowly, “I have Dead Rising, and Ryse for Xbox One.”
James took another long drink and waved the controller toward the television. “Do you mind?”
“Nope,” Evan said and grabbed the remote.
Thirty minutes later they’d spoken in nothing but monosyllabic words and James was well on his way to drunk. He’d killed his fair share of enemies, staying competitive despite his rapidly diminishing hand-eye coordination. He still felt like he’d been run over by a truck, but at least he didn’t have to think. And, as predicted, Evan didn’t press. Didn’t ask questions.
James didn’t have to explain how he was in love with a woman who didn’t love him back. Yes, she’d said the words, but now he knew they hadn’t mattered to her. She’d said them in the heat and passion of the moment.
He’d finally had a woman he didn’t want to live without. That mysterious puzzle piece that eluded him with other women had finally shifted into place; until he discovered Gracie didn’t feel the same way.
Fuck. What was so wrong about what he’d done? Okay, maybe he should have talked to her, but he’d truly had good intentions. He took another sip of his drink. She’d just been waiting for an out and took the first one he gave her.
Well, good. It’s better he know up front. It would never last if one tiny screw-up would send her out the door.
Another gulp. The whiskey no longer burning as it went down. He should have stuck with his first instinct about her and stayed the hell away from her.
The intercom buzzed and James’s gaze flew to the offending speaker. With slurred words he asked, “Who’s that?”
“Don’t know.” Evan went toward the intercom.
James had one brief flash of something that disgustingly felt like hope that Gracie was at the door, before dismissing the idea. Besides, she’d never think to look for him here. James scoffed. “I hope it’s not a hooker.”
Evan grinned, walking backward. “In my price range they’re called escorts, but you know I never have to pay for sex.”
James stabbed a soldier through his armor, leaving a blood-soaked puddle in his wake. Of course, Evan didn’t. He was six-five, too good-looking for his own good, and played professional football. Like Gracie, the opposite sex seemed to be unable to resist him, and women lined up for the chance to be in his bed.
That kind of life had never appealed to James, but at the moment, through his liquor-filled haze, it pissed him off. Some people, and he wasn’t going to name names, had it so easy.
Evan pressed the button and barked, “Yeah.”
The refined voice of the doorman came over the line. “Mr. Donovan, a Mr. Shane Donovan is here to see you.”
Oh, great. His culprit in crime and the last man he wanted to see. James shook his head. “Don’t let him in.”
“Send him up,” Evan said, then walked back to the couch. “You know he won’t leave until he gets what he wants.”
“I don’t want to talk to him.” James slid a sword right into the enemy’s chest and gutted him.
“What’s wrong with you?” Evan asked.
James paused the game and shook his head. “Get rid of Shane and I’ll be fine.”
Evan snorted. “Have you met our brother?”
“Just do it.” James took another drink and eyed the bottle.
“He’s already on his way.”
James had already drunk well past his comfort zone, and hopefully it wouldn’t be too long before he passed out. “Can I sleep here?”
“What’s wrong with your place?” Evan asked, walking to the door Shane pounded on.
James thought of Gracie sitting on his couch, curled up with her feet tucked under her, wearing no makeup, her hair wild after all the things he’d done to her the night before, and shuddered. He couldn’t walk into an empty house. “It’s being fumigated.”
Evan opened the door and Shane stomped in, carrying a brown grocery bag with him. He nodded to the bottle on the table. “Good, you’ve already started.”
James scowled.
“Cecilia kicked me out of the house,” Shane said, putting the bag on the table. “I guess the conversation didn’t go well.”
James experienced a moment of camaraderie until he remembered that for Shane, this was temporary. Even if they argued, Shane was still marrying Cecilia. Unlike James, who had been permanently removed from Gracie’s life. “Don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fine.”
There’s no way it would be that easy. “I’m serious.”
“Understood,” Shane said.
Evan looked back and forth between them. “What’s wrong with him?”
Shane sat down. “He’s in love with Gracie.”
The words were a knife in the chest, and James viciously slayed another soldier in retaliation.
Evan patted James on the back in a consolatory gesture. “Sorry she turned you down. If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t fare much better.”
The statement enraged James and before he could process his actions, he stood. Clenching his hands into fists, his vision blurred and he lunged at his younger brother in a cloud of fury.
“What the fuck?” Evan rolled out of the way, falling to the ground. James tackled him and wrestled him onto his back.
James raised his fist to coldcock him, but Shane grabbed his arm and twisted.
“Let go,” James roar
ed, suddenly realizing what he really needed was real-life violence instead of game simulation.
“No. You’re going to hurt him and yourself,” Shane said calmly.
Even drunk, James saw the logic of Shane’s argument. With a sigh, he climbed off Evan, letting him go.
“Dude, what is your problem?” Evan scrambled up from the floor with the grace of the athlete he was.
James glared at him. “She didn’t turn me down, asshole.”
Evan’s expression widened in surprise.
James shook free of Shane and stumbled back onto the couch like the athlete he wasn’t. “That’s right, she turned you down, not me. You think I’d be upset over a stupid infatuation?”
“Geez, chill, man, I didn’t mean it that way,” Evan said, slumping back and looking at Shane. “What the hell happened? And why did Cecilia kick you out?”
Shane sighed and returned to his own seat. “James and I decided to help Gracie open a bakery in Chicago.”
Evan’s brow rose. “And?”
Shane scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “We . . . kind of . . . forgot to mention it to Gracie.”
“That was a stupid move,” Evan said, kicking his feet up onto a coffee table that probably cost more than James made in a month.
“We were just trying to help,” James and Shane said at the same time.
Evan rolled his eyes. “Have you met Gracie? She doesn’t want a couple of guys coming along poking their noses into her business.”
“That’s not what I was doing.” James’s mouth was like mush and he had a hard time forming the words. “I was giving her options.”
“Stupid,” Evan said, shaking his head.
“What do you know about relationships?” Shane snapped.
Evan scoffed, laughing. “I know enough not to treat smart, strong, independent women like they need to be rescued.”
Shane and James just stared at him, unblinking.
Why did that actually make sense?
Shane said, “Just shut the fuck up and look pretty.”
Evan shot Shane the finger. “Like you’d ever do that to Cecilia.”
James frowned at his older brother.
Shane’s gaze slid guiltily away. He asked, “What was I supposed to do?”
The Name of the Game Page 30