“Hello, Miss Joanna,” says Dobbs.
“Hi. I brought you some wedding cake.”
“Oh, you sweet girl. You didn’t have to do that,” he says, taking the plate.
I shrug. “No biggie.”
“Was the wedding lovely?”
“It was. A good time was had by all. And I’ve never seen Harry happier.”
“He’s a good man. He deserves it.”
“That he does.”
“And Dr. Ambrose? I saw on the news—”
“He’s fine,” I assure him. “Not a scratch.”
“Thank God. And the preparations for his birthday celebration have been confirmed. They’ll set-up the dinner table inside the labyrinth. There may be rain, so I added a tent to the order.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course.”
My phone begins ringing inside my purse. Probably Lane, Pendergast’s CEO, again. He’s called three times in the last hour. Sure enough the phone’s display confirms my suspicion. “I have to get this,” I tell Dobbs.
“Of course. Tell Dr. Ambrose good night for me.”
“I will. Sleep tight.”
Not to be ruder, I wait until his door shuts before I answer. “Hello, Lane. What’s up?”
“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”
“I was at a wedding. And it’s Sunday. What the hell can’t wait twelve hours?”
“I received a call from Bennett Stone earlier today. The deal might be in trouble.”
I roll my eyes. “What? Why? We’ve been working on that deal for over six months. The government even rubber stamped it. It’s a go.”
“Stone personally called me, Joanna, to express his displeasure. I got the sense he somehow feels disrespected, like we haven’t been taking this buy-out seriously.”
“It’s got to be a play. He’s bluffing. He wants us to lower the price or something. In truth, after I reviewed the numbers, I was shocked Goliath offered as much as they did. Blackwater Pharmaceuticals sure as shit isn’t worth five hundred million bucks. They have only produced one viable drug in fifteen years, and besides their gene therapy division, they’re not exactly cutting edge.”
“Exactly. And we’ve already allocated the money for other ventures in the pipeline. Without this deal we’ll have to withdraw our bid for Telefirma Media with penalties.”
“So what do we do?”
“You and I need to be there.”
“No,” I state emphatically.
“We have to be there, Joanna,” he replies with equal force.
“I-I can’t. Lane, no. It’s Jem’s birthday. I have a big thing planned. I can’t—”
“And I’ll be missing my daughter’s cello recital. Again. It’s five hundred million, Joanna. We don’t have a choice.”
Damn it. Fuck, fuckity, fuck fuck fuck. “Fine. Whatever. We’ll work out the details tomorrow, okay? Just…fuck.”
“Well put. I’ll see you tomorrow. We’ll phone Stone together once you’ve calmed down.”
“And fuck you too. Bye.” I end the call.
And the award for the world’s shittiest girlfriend goes to…ugh. Now I wish Jem had missed the wedding. I wouldn’t feel as damn guilty about missing his birthday. Thousands of dollars, weeks of planning, all down the crapper. I planned to kidnap him for the day. Wake him with a blow job, serve him breakfast in bed, spend the day on our boat The Athena, then his favorite dinner in the labyrinth at Austen Castle where we had our first non-date. I even bought new lingerie for desert. Bennett Fucking Stone throws a hissy fit, and it’s all for nothing. Asshole.
The shower’s running when I step into the penthouse. It hasn’t changed much since I moved in, mostly because I didn’t have much to contribute in the way of furniture. Nothing at Pendergast Manor was mine, and a year before a supervillain blew up my apartment, so besides the couch, lounge chair, and shelf filled with DVDs beside the TV, it’s the same as when I first walked in. Gleaming hardwood floors, bookcases with a million books, telescope pointed out the panoramic window that overlooks Stan Lee Park, cathedral ceilings with skylights, all the same. I didn’t feel the need to mess with something working already.
Without even kicking off my shoes, I fall face first onto our bed. With the worry, the wedding, putting what I believed were the final touches on the Goliath deal, and planning his birthday, I am exhausted. Jem and I haven’t had more than a day off in five months and that was to recover from surgery. That’s it. I’m calling it. As soon as possible, we’re taking a damn vacation. Our last vacation was a rousing success. A week alone on The Athena. No phones, no e-mails, no people, no clothes most of the day. Just the open water, the sun, mind blowing sex, pillow talk, and plans for the future. Heaven on damn earth. Time to visit again. We’ve damn well earned a break.
The shower shuts off a few minutes later, and a minute after that, the scent of shampoo and soap wafts past me. “Are you asleep?” Jem whispers.
“Almost,” I mutter. I sense him moving down the bed and gently removing my shoes. “Thank you, love.”
“My pleasure, darling.” I open my eyes and watch as he lets the towel slip off—yum—and changes into his purple silk pajamas. “Enjoying yourself there?” he asks before turning around with a mischievous grin.
“Of course. You know I love objectifying you.”
“Any chance of returning the favor tonight?”
“Only if you don’t mind the corpse pose. It’s all I can muster tonight.”
“I’ve had more than my fair share of corpses this day, thank you very much.” Jem climbs onto our bed beside me and scoots down so we’re eye level. God, he is a sexy beast. Not classically handsome like Justin was, very few men are, but with those sharp cheekbones, full lips, and long eyelashes, you wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers as Pop liked to say. My father would have loved Jem.
“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?” I ask.
“Immensely. You? It wasn’t too awkward? No…old stirrings? Regret?”
I pretend to consider the possibility. “Well…” I say sarcastically. His eyes narrow playfully before I chuckle. “Of course not, you idiot.” I run my finger across his cheek. “You know, I’m the one who should be insecure here. You’re the practically perfect one with legions of women writing you love notes pledging their undying love, oh captain my captain.”
“You’re right. I must go to them. Now.” He sits up, but I yank him back, both of us laughing the entire time. I scooch up and over to rest my head on his chest as he wraps his arm around my torso. He kisses my forehead.
“You may actually want to take one of them up on their offers,” I say. “I’m going to have to miss your birthday.”
“What?”
“Lane called. The Goliath deal hit a snag. We have to fly to Independence to smooth it out. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he assures me.
“No,” I wince, “it’s not. You rented a helicopter for my birthday. I had this whole day planned and…” I sigh. “I suck.”
“I don’t care. Really. I’d rather simply forget the whole day like I have for well over a decade.”
“You wanted to forget it because to you it wasn’t a big deal. The day you were born is a big deal to me. It’s important. You’ve done a lot of good for countless people, none more so than me. You should get a damn parade, and instead I’ll be hundreds of miles away, and you’ll work all day then get your ass beat by junkies and goons. I’d invite you to come, but I’ll be working the whole time. I’ll be lucky if I see the inside of my hotel room.”
“Joanna, don’t torment yourself up about it. We can celebrate when you get home. I’ve missed a lot of your events too. All that matters is when it is important, we are there for one another. And in that, you have never failed me. Not once.”
I run my finger across his lips, which brings a smile to them. “I don’t deserve you. I really don’t.”
“You have it reversed there, my
darling love,” he says kissing my fingertips. “But you’re stuck with me. Right?”
I lean over and kiss him. Deeply. God, can this man kiss. The toe curling, heat inducing, cat in heat writhing sensation he draws from me with just the touch of his lips, three times better than any drug or drink out there. Oh, how I love this man. I break apart first and smile. “For a million nights, then a million more.”
“Promise?” he asks, insecurity painting each syllable.
I stare into those sapphire eyes and see all the way down to his battered soul. Into the darkness life’s infected inside him. For so long it was all he had. It fueled him. I know because I was the same. Angry, hopeless, dead in all but body. Sometimes I look at him and can’t believe he’s real. That he’s beside me. That this brilliant, astonishing man loves me. I don’t trust it. I don’t trust it won’t be snatched away from me like everything else I ever loved. But I trust him. I love him and trust him with every fiber of my being. He’s my best friend, my partner, my savior. And I’ll be damned if I cause him a millisecond of pain or doubt.
“Marry me.”
His eyes narrow in disbelief as at the same time a smile forms on those magical lips. “What?”
“You heard me. Marry me.”
The smile dissipates a little. “Really?”
“Hell yes.” I press my hand to his cheek, grinning like an idiot. “Marry me.”
A hundred emotions pass across those eyes of his. Disbelief, confusion, fear, then bliss. Pure as if sent by the angels themselves bliss. Tears spring out, as does a laugh. “Thought you’d never ask.”
After another guffaw, he grabs my neck and pulls my lips against his in a fierce kiss before breaking away again. I wipe his still streaming tears as mine threaten to fall too. “I love you,” I whisper with a small smile.
“Nowhere near as much as I love you,” Jem whispers back, serious as a tempest.
“Say it again,” I order.
“I love you.”
“And again.”
“I love you.”
“Once more with feeling.”
He cradles my face in his long, soft hands, eyes boring into mine. “Joanna Fallon, you have blessed my life in ways you cannot fathom. You are my heart, my soul, you are…my hero. You have given me pure, true, once in a lifetime love, and I thank you for every moment of it. I love you tonight, tomorrow night, a million nights then a million more, Joanna Fallon. I love you.”
“Then I guess you better marry me, huh?”
Our grins grow in tandem before he kisses me again. And again. And again. He brings me back to life, and we celebrate the proper way.
All my life I believed I wasn’t good enough. Not for my mother, not for Justin, not for anyone. How wrong I was. How wrong I will never be again. Because he’ll set me right. He’ll help me up when I fall, as I will him. And if there is any justice in the world, we’ll get our million nights and a million more.
We’ve earned them.
CHAPTER TWO
The Violet Hour
It’s too big. Gaudy almost. Of course by billionaire standards it’s a crackerjack ring. Barely two carats with a platinum band. People might not even suspect it is an engagement ring. Though it is a diamond ring, they’re colored diamonds, the exact same shade of blue as my beloved’s eyes, in a multi-layered flower pattern that to me resembles more of a snowflake than blossom. I love it though. Found it at the first store we went to last night. My fiancée put up no fight when I suggested we shut off our phones, computers, and basically vanish for the day in celebration. In the end we just stayed in our penthouse, in bed, until he insisted it wouldn’t be official until I had a ring. He’s such a traditionalist. In my mind we’re already together in every way that matters. A piece of jewelry, a piece of paper and a few words from a priest won’t change a damn thing. But it means the world to him, which is why I asked in the first place. I do almost have him agreeing to a quick justice of the peace ceremony when I return from this trip. Just him and me. All I need.
“Will you please pay attention?” Lane snaps beside me in the limo.
“Why? We spent hours going over this on the plane.”
“Because you missed all the meetings, all the preparation sessions yesterday, and there are a million tiny details you need to know.”
“Oh, please. We all know I’m little more than window dressing. As always I’ll say all of twenty words, smile, and make Stone feel important because the infamous Joanna Fallon took time between supervillain kidnappings to meet him. If he’s lucky, I may even remove my cardigan so he can see the acid burn scar. Hell, maybe he’ll just ask to see it like those Tamagotchi men did.”
“You make it sound like you’re a mascot,” Lane says.
“You do more than that,” my assistant Shannon insists.
“No, you just make it seem like I do,” I say truthfully.
I’m the first to admit I have no idea what I’m doing. I barely passed high school, and there are precious few transferable skills between police officer and figurehead of an international conglomerate. Dividends, gross versus net profit, tax shelters, it goes way over my head. Don’t know what the hell Justin was thinking leaving his shares to me. I’m not good at it, I don’t particularly like any of it, but Justin trusted me with his legacy and I owe him far more than I can ever repay in twelve lifetimes. So I’ll be their dancing monkey for as long as they need me to be.
Today my monkey moves are all for Bennett Stone, CEO of Goliath Industries. I did do my homework on him. Thirty-five, never married, spent the last fifteen years at the top of Independence’s Top Ten Bachelor’s List. Loves fast cars, fine honeys, and even climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro. Twice. Took control of Goliath after earning his MBA at age twenty-three, the same age Justin was when he took the reins. Also like Justin he inherited the business as a tender teen when his parents died in a super related incident. Stone’s parents and seven-year-old sister were crushed by debris while inside their limo during a battle between Bruiser and Hippomatus when the boy was just fifteen. He was inside the car too. Trapped for almost four hours with the bodies of his parents, who were killed instantly. His sister Molly wasn’t so lucky. She died around hour three, reportedly as her brother cradled and comforted her. Justin had to watch his father die too but on the television. To be right there? Covered in their blood? Being unable to save his sister? Fuck me. But what from the clippings in the dossier it appears he managed to overcome whatever demons the incident spawned to become a well-rounded, shallow, billionaire playboy. We’re in my wheelhouse now.
The Goliath Tower lives up to its name. The tallest building in our country’s capital is fifty stories tall, ten more than any other building or monument. The builders are hard at work on about the fifth floor repairing the gray masonry and windows on three levels as we pull up. Collateral damage from the brawl between White Knight and The Nothing Man last week. Saw a clip on the news. Hell, every other building on this street is getting repaired. I know their pain. At least every other year some part of the Pendergast building gets demolished in one of these battles. Last year the whole building almost went up when my future brother-in-law planted a bomb in the boiler room. Jem defused it but five percent of our workforce quit within a week. Places like this might as well have targets literally painted on them. I know Jem does his best to keep his damage to a minimum, but it’s hard to do when one is literally fighting for their life.
We’re escorted through the lobby to the elevator by Stone’s assistant Lena, who takes us up to the fiftieth floor while making small talk about the weather. Snow’s expected tomorrow. I swear if we get snowed in, I’m going to be pissed. I only know two people in the city, and one is walking the catwalks in Milan. Alexia “Lexie” Darby, formally Lady Liberty, and I have kept in contact after she moved back to Independence. Mostly phone calls and e-mails with the occasional lunch if we’re in the same town. She’s been keeping busy with work of the official variety, modeling non-stop all over the world. I was mu
ch the same after Justin died. Work, work, work as a Band-Aid for a broken heart. Blowing up her husband’s murderer hopefully helped too. I did eventually tell Jem what she did. I didn’t want any secrets between us. He took it well. “She did what she felt was necessary. What I couldn’t,” were his exact words. I just wish she would reach out to Jem. They were teammates for years. Friends. She says the wound is still too raw. He says he understands, but I can tell her rebuff stings. Maybe a wedding will bring her round.
Besides Dobbs, Lexie, my cousins, and aunt and uncle, the only other person I’d really want at the courthouse with us is Lucy Helms, Justin’s aunt. Like Lexie, she fled Galilee for Independence after a loved one died. Don’t blame either of them. I wouldn’t call Lucy and me close. In fact, for years, I thought she hated me, the guttersnipe her nephew literally picked up from the side of the road. But when push comes to shove, when it really matters, she’s always been there. Kicking my ass. Making me see sense. She was more of a mother to me than my own ever was. I’m going to surprise her after the meeting. She hates surprises.
The elevator doors finally open and once again we follow Lena to the conference room. It’s a damn good thing I’m not afraid of heights because an entire wall is nothing but glass overlooking the city. In the distance I can even make out the arch of The National Monument near the President’s Mansion. Not that there’ll be much time to enjoy the view what with the binder the size of a novel we have to review before the deal gets finalized. I’m falling asleep already.
The Galilee Falls Trilogy (Book 3): Fall of Heroes Page 2