by Amelia Wilde
Then a lump comes to my throat. I haven’t talked to him since that hasty conversation we had when I was in the Hamptons. He’s probably on edge as much as I am.
I wait until it’s late enough to justify a lunch break, then take the elevator down to the lobby. After the frigid cool of the air conditioning, the summer heat is almost painfully pleasant on my skin. There’s no sign of anyone shady lurking outside, so I start walking down the block and call Adam.
“Hey. Sorry I couldn’t call back sooner.”
“It’s okay, Angie.”
“Did something happen?” My heart pounds in the moment of silence before he answers.
“No...but I’m worried about my place.”
I try a joke. “What, you didn’t lock up when you left?”
His laugh is dry, bitter. “I locked up. But it’s no guarantee that...” His voice trails off, and then he tries again. “Could you check on it, make sure nothing’s happened? The rent is paid, but it’s going to be a real pain in the ass if somebody breaks in and takes all my stuff.”
I roll my eyes. Adam’s Xbox is probably the only thing in there that would be worth anything. “You realize it will also be a pain in the ass for me to go to Brooklyn.”
“I know.”
My heart softens. I’m still pissed the hell off that Adam dragged me into this situation, but we’ve been through too much together for me to abandon him. It almost never comes to mind when I’m awake in the middle of the night, even though telling him to fend for himself would definitely be the best option for me. “Okay. I’ll head over there after work and let you know how it goes.”
I bask in the sun for another five minutes, then head back into the office.
There’s nothing to do but work furiously until five o’clock, when I can probably sneak away...if everything is done.
Hadley sequesters herself for the rest of the workday, which is a blessing. I glue my eyes to the computer screen and type at an incredible pace until every task in her system has the little white checkbox next to it filled.
At five o’clock sharp, she’s still holed up behind her door, so I throw together a summary email and leave the office before she has a chance to ask me questions about it.
My heart rate goes up during the cab ride to Sunset Park. At least this time Adam’s not in imminent danger—all I need to do is make sure his apartment is intact, and then I can head right back to the safety of Jett’s apartment.
Jett...
Time is running out for me to tell him, a thought that makes my stomach knot up. Every time I try to think about the right words, nothing comes to me. My mind draws a blank.
The truth is that there’s no way to say this to him without losing him.
And I desperately want to keep him.
At long last, the cab driver deposits me a block away from Adam’s place.
“Wait for me?” I press a twenty into his hand, and he gives me a surly nod and turns the radio up.
The sidewalk is clear as I start down the block except for a mom pushing her baby in a stroller. The baby’s chunky legs poke out into the sun. They’re perfect. A little of the strain in my shoulders dissipates in the sunlight.
Until I get closer.
The sidewalk isn’t clear after all.
The man standing there jogs my memory, but it takes a good thirty seconds to remember where I saw him last.
On the way to the police station.
He’s still got a CD case in his hands, and as he walks back and forth in front of the door to Adam’s building apartment, he spins it in his fingers, slaps it against his leg.
Charlie has eyes everywhere, and he clearly hasn’t given up on taking Adam for everything he’s worth.
My blood runs cold in my veins, but I don’t want to make a scene. He hasn’t seen me yet. So I turn toward one of the shops nearby and pretend to look in the window, then slowly turn back. Let me get to the cab. Let me get to the cab…
My phone rings in my purse, and I grab it and answer it without looking. Jesus, Adam, have some patience.
“Yeah?”
“Angelica.”
Jett.
“Are you coming down?”
Shit.
“I had to check on something—I’m in Brooklyn right now, actually.”
“What’s in Brooklyn?”
“My brother’s apartment.”
Jett takes a beat to answer. “Is he all right?”
“I didn’t talk to him.” That’s as much of the truth as I can offer. “I guess he left yesterday to go visit home. He wanted me to check on his place.”
“Do you want me to come get you?”
“No,” I say, climbing back into the cab, moving slowly and carefully, trying not to draw any attention. “I’m in the cab right now.”
“Good,” he says, and then lingers in the pause like he wants to say something else. “Come home. I miss you.”
32
Jett
This business about Angelica’s brother seems to have cropped up out of nowhere, and something about it needles at my mind.
I have Stuart drop me off at the penthouse, then send him off to a place down the block to pick up dinner. Rush hour traffic is going to make for a long trip back from Brooklyn. She’s got to be starving, and I want to know more about her brother.
We never got around to talking about it after I surprised her the other night as she was sneaking in the door.
Angelica comes through the door fifty minutes later, shoulders slumped, face pink from the heat.
“Hi, sweet thing.”
“Hey,” she says, kicking off her shoes and dropping her purse on the table in the foyer. Then she gives a little sigh.
“Glad to be back?”
“Glad your air conditioning never fails.”
I shrug. “If it did, I’d go to another one of my places. Are you hungry?”
Angelica brightens. I was right. “Do you have food?”
I laugh at that. “Twenty-four hours a day, and I have a personal chef on standby. Do you want to stand around talking about what’s in the pantry or do you want to eat?”
“Eat,” she says, and makes a beeline for the breakfast nook. I’ve laid out an impressive array of sushi and chicken katsu. It’s not quite Sasabune caliber, but Angelica doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. She fills her plate and digs in.
We eat in silence for a few minutes.
“Tell me more about your brother.” There’s no point in skirting the issue.
Angelica stops with a forkful of chicken katsu halfway to her mouth and looks at me, one eyebrow raised. “What about him?”
“I’m guessing you’re close.”
“You could say that.” She draws the bite off her fork with her teeth, chews, swallows.
“You took care of him growing up, right?”
“Yeah, I did.” She sips at the plum wine I had brought up to go with the meal, then leans back in her seat. “Why are you interested?”
I follow her lead, putting down my fork.
“He’s come up a lot lately. And now that we’re...” I make a gesture indicating the space between us. “I thought I should learn more about him. Things seem to be a little rough lately.”
“He’ll be fine. He always makes it through.”
Angelica looks out at the skyline.
“You’re older, right?”
“By three years.” She leans over her plate again, then spears a piece of sushi with her fork, dips it delicately in the soy sauce, and puts it into her mouth. Closing her eyes, she lets it linger on her tongue for a moment before swallowing.
My cock twitches inside my boxers.
“Does he plan to be out of the city for a long time?”
“I don’t know,” Angelica says, her brow furrowed. “He didn’t tell me exactly how long his visit was going to be.” She eats another section of the sushi roll, then looks into my eyes. “Really, Jett, why do you want to know all this?”
“I want
to know about you. And lately you’ve been focused on your brother, so it’s been on my mind.” I take a stab in the dark. “You don’t have to be embarrassed if he’s got...other issues.”
“Other issues like what?” Angelica’s eyes flash. “He’s not some kind of drug addict, if that’s what you’re saying.” Her tone is spiked with anger, but a different expression altogether flickers through her aqua blue eyes. It looks like fear.
I give her a little nod, conceding. “Well, if there’s anything I can do to help...”
“He doesn’t need your help.” Angelica’s cheeks flood with color. She opens her mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. When she finally raises her gaze from the tablecloth, she looks mortified. “I’m sorry. That was...that was out of line. I—”
I hold up one hand. “You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to. It seemed like something that was important to you.”
“My brother is important to me.” She bites her lip. “I told you about...the hard times we had growing up.”
“I remember.”
“Well, we spent a lot of time together. My mom couldn’t afford a babysitter, so from the time I was nine I stayed with him after school. He was...” Angelica takes a deep breath. “He was a sweet kid. Very sensitive. And the other kids in his grade were pretty ruthless.”
The puzzle pieces start to click together.
“My mom wasn’t around very much right after school, so I was the one who picked up the pieces. She’s always struggled to make ends meet so we had to rely on each other.” She shakes her head a little like her explanation might be inadequate. “I want to protect him, that’s all.” Her eyes bore into mine, and there’s a tiny quiver in her chin.
“I can understand that.” I don’t know what it’s like, not exactly, not having any siblings of my own, but Angelica brings out that instinct in me.
I try to lighten the mood. “What would you have done if someone was robbing his apartment? Don’t tell me you’re some kind of superhero in disguise and you’ve been hiding it from me all along.”
Angelica lets out a short, barking laugh, and the heaviness of the conversation lifts a little. “Did you want to know anything else? Can I go back to enjoying this incredible meal now?” She stabs a piece of chicken katsu and waves it in front of me, a small smile on her face.
She’s so attractive that I can’t deny her this small request. “I won’t stop you any longer. Is there something else you’d rather talk about?”
“Yeah,” she says, after she swallows another bite, sips more from her wine. “What we’re going to do in bed later.”
That sly vixen.
It’s not until the next day that I realize she never told me what was up with Adam.
33
Angelica
Time is running out.
It’s been running out for me since the beginning—there’s no way I was ever going to get out of this without a consequence, whether it’s from Charlie or Jett, but with Jett so curious about Adam, the writing is on the wall. In big, bold letters.
My heart races every time I think about confessing the words to Jett. My heart races every time I think of Charlie’s words to me, about my mother and brother.
He hasn’t done anything yet. That doesn’t mean he won’t...especially if I slip up now.
There’s one thing left that I want to do before all of this comes crashing down on me.
I want to show Jett where I came from.
Not Michigan, of course—I’ll probably never get the chance to take him there—but to where I first lived in New York City.
Maybe it’s selfish, maybe it’s conniving, but I’m hoping that once he sees how hard I’ve worked to get to where I am—how much of nothing I had when I came here, aside from a college degree and a mountain of debt—he’ll be able to see that I’ve always done everything I can to pull myself up by my bootstraps, and my brother along with me.
He’ll be able to see that I’m not after his money, that I didn’t do this to hurt him.
Or maybe it will backfire horribly. Maybe he’ll see me for who I am: the poor girl clinging on to life in a rich city by the skin of her teeth.
Only one way to find out.
On Friday afternoon, when the Town Car glides to a stop beside the curb in front of the Sisterspark building, I seize my opportunity.
“Hey, Stuart,” I say before he can open the door and let me in. “Would you mind taking a little detour before we go back to the penthouse today? There’s a place I want to show Jett.”
Stuart grins at me, eyes twinkling. “Where’s it at, Miss Chandler?”
“Angelica,” I correct him automatically, then give him the address in Washington Heights.
He whistles through his teeth. “That’s a ride.”
“I know. If he complains, we can turn around.” I give Stuart a wink, and he winks back, then pulls open the door.
Jett leans in for a kiss, phone in one hand. “Let me finish up this email, okay?”
“No problem.” I get my own phone out as Stuart steers the car back into traffic. Jett taps away at his phone for a minute, then slides it into his pocket and moves closer, wrapping his arm around me.
“So,” I say, my pulse picking up speed. “Do you mind if we—”
I’m interrupted by the buzz of Jett’s phone in his pocket, and his hand goes toward it like he’s being compelled by some stronger force. “A moment, sweet thing,” he says, kissing me on the temple and then swiping across the screen to answer the call.
“Jett Brandon.”
I can hear a male voice on the other end of the line, but not much else.
“That’s not the news I was expecting,” he says, and my throat tightens up. “In person would be best. I agree.” There’s another pause. “I can be there in twenty minutes.”
My heart sinks.
Jett ends the call but keeps his phone in his hand. “Stuart, change of plans. We need to make a stop at Cook’s office.”
I keep my expression neutral.
“That was my accountant,” Jett says to me. “He’s got some news about the situation with my accounts. I’d drop you off at the penthouse first, but....”
“It’s no problem,” I say quickly, kissing his jawline. I linger a moment with my face close to his skin, breathing in the clean, spicy scent of him.
This is about to be over, and I’m not ready.
I silently thank the accountant for not giving him all the details over the phone. Once he knows what’s been happening with his bank accounts—and even I’m not sure the extent of it—there’s no way he’ll be able to gloss over the fact that all of this started after my arrival.
We pull up in front of a three-story brick building twenty minutes later, and Jett taps his foot against the floor of the car while he waits for Stuart to come around and open the door.
When he does, Jett steps out onto the sidewalk and starts to move toward the building. Stuart hesitates, his hand on the handle.
I stay seated, frozen in place.
Jett glances to his side, then seems to realize I’m not with him. He rushes back to the car, sticks his head inside.
“Are you coming?”
I swallow hard. “I don’t—are you sure you want me to be—?”
“Yes,” Jett says impatiently, waving me out of the car. “Come on. This will only take a few minutes, and then we can go back to the penthouse.”
It takes me a moment to unfreeze my limbs, to force my legs to work. There’s a tiny part of me that feels light, free, unencumbered now that I’m about to be discovered and I can put the lies and the tricks behind me once and for all.
But the rest of me is heavy, dragged down toward the center of the earth by the fact that I’m about to lose the man I love, and it’s all my fault.
Adam might have gotten me into this, but I had opportunities to get out long before now and I didn’t, and now I’m going to pay the price. The ultimate price.
My body resist
s. Jett reaches reach down and helps me stand up. He doesn’t seem to notice the trembling in my legs.
I breathe in the warm air and steel myself. Then I force my feet to move after Jett, one after the other, toward the inevitable fallout.
34
Jett
My skin feels like a conduit for electricity as I stride up the stairs to Cook’s second floor office. It’s a pre-war building with a retrofitted elevator, which is unofficially reserved for those who truly can’t navigate the stairs.
I’m so close to having all this nonsense squared away that I can taste it. This business with my accounts seems like the last bit of bullshit in a line of events that started with meeting Emerald.
Once I find out what Cook has to say, I’ll be able to move ahead.
The failed acquisition will be in the past. The account trouble will be in the past. And I’ll be free to focus on building my business and being near Angelica as much as possible.
My heart thuds in a quick rhythm while I climb, Angelica’s heels tapping against the wooden stairs behind me. We’re going out to celebrate after this. Anyplace she wants. It’s going to feel so good to have my life squared away again.
Whatever’s going on with her brother, we’ll be able to sort it out together.
I stop on the first landing, and Angelica stops short of running into me. Her cheeks are pink from the trek up the stairs.
I love you.
I want to say the words out loud, but now’s not the time.
Tonight at dinner. That’s when I’ll tell her.
Angelica looks to the side, then back at me. “Are you—okay?”
I kiss her on the cheek. “I will be very shortly.”
We go straight into Cook’s office. His secretary has been expecting us, and she comes in behind us with two glasses of sparkling water on a tray. The size of the building is misleading—Cook’s firm is one of the most sought-after in the city, but most of their staff works in a different building. It gives clients like myself an extra layer of privacy. There are some people working on the lower level who are never allowed to attach names to the accounts they work on.