by Kira Graham
“Don’t look at me that way. I tried to just give it to her, but the damn woman is as stubborn as hell. She wouldn’t accept it unless I accepted her apology and forgave her.”
“You haven’t forgiven her yet?” Chilli barks. “Jesus, Paris, what is it that you want from Sin, an apology in fucking blood? She’s apologized over and over in the last few months, and after the mess you helped create by staying away from Helos and keeping the operation capital frozen, I’d say that you’ve more than punished her. No wonder she wants to walk; you’re being an asshole.”
“Me? I wasn’t the one who—”
“What, Paris? You weren’t the one who what? Screwed up and said some things you didn’t mean? Let me tell you something, bro—everyone makes mistakes. No one is perfect. If that’s what you were expecting when you fell for Sin and practically started stalking her, then you were always in for a disappointing ending. So she said some things to you that hurt you. I get that you’re pissed about it, but move the hell on already. Forgive her, or let her go, but this in-between stuff isn’t fair to anyone.”
“You don’t get it.”
“Of course I get it. When Alex bounced on me for months and then turned up pregnant with my sons, I felt just as pissed off as I did guilty. I wanted to rage and yell and throw things and blame it all on her, because that’s what people do when they feel guilty. They look for a scapegoat.”
“How am I guilty?”
“She was seeing someone, and you knew it, Paris. Sin may be a lot of things, but she’s not the type of woman who’ll cheat, and she isn’t the kind of woman who’ll just end a relationship because she finds someone shinier and better-looking. If you’d held off like I told you to, she’d have ended things when she was ready, and you’d have had your shot.”
And watch her fawn and coo all over that slimy scumbag she was seeing? No fucking thank you. I couldn’t stand the thought of her being with someone else, and while Chilli is right in that she was always going to end things with that Cole douchebag, I had a rough time seeing her with him at all.
So I guess, in a way, I did sort of push a little hard.
“I never stood a chance.”
All three of them curse softly at that and throw me pointed looks meant to shame me.
“You know better than that. This is the way things go with us, isn’t it? We’re friends with our women, first and foremost. All you had to do was wait her out, but in true Paris fashion, you just couldn’t find the patience to wait for something you wanted,” Zeus chides.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Adonis says gently, his eyes going soft when Axel yawns and stretches against his chest, “that you, my brother, are a little spoiled. You’re used to being rich and good-looking, and getting what you want as a result. And while we’re all guilty of that in some way or another, you take things to the next level by being as impatient as hell. Starting with Sin. You saw her, decided that you were meant to be together, and that was that. In your head, she should have known that or caught up to your way of thinking instantaneously, so to you, the fact that she ‘rebelled’ means all-out war.”
“That isn’t true.”
“Of course it’s true. Remember the summer you turned seventeen, and you took a fancy to Shay Patriarchis? You walked into the prom, cut into the dance that she was enjoying with her boyfriend, and told her that you liked her. Two days later, after she’d dumped the boyfriend that she’d had since junior high, you realized that you didn’t like the way she whined about everything and dumped her,” Chilli says softly, making me wince.
“Technically, that isn’t true. I walked into the prom, cut into their dance, and told Shay that she was gorgeous and my first choice as a date—and she took that to mean that I was all but proposing marriage. I didn’t ask her to break things off with Troy Duncan, and it wasn’t my fault that she read too much into that night. It was just two teenagers having fun,” I say, defending myself, though I can’t help wincing again.
Shay was a cool girl, and even after I explained to her that I wasn’t into heavy relationships or dating, because I was waiting for my one true love, she told me that she was just grateful to have an excuse to break up with a boy that she was more friends with than girlfriend and boyfriend. It sounds juvenile now, and I guess that in a way it was, but we ended up doing each other a favor. Because I learned that if I kept things light with women and was always upfront about my intentions, then they, in turn, would be easy to be around.
I wasn’t kidding when I said that I really was waiting for my one, at least for most of my life. I am, or was, a romantic at heart, and I really did believe that when I got hit by that lightning bolt, things would just fall into place.
Christ. They’re right: I am a spoiled little shit.
“It was the Paris show, and while I find that shit as entertaining as hell, and a little cool how easily you always manage to slip and slide your way out of heavy commitment, it’s also a pattern with you. You become convinced that you’re completely in love with a chick, and you go balls to the wall on them, only to turn around and realize, a little while later, that you aren’t in love with them after all. You’re intense, man, and when it comes to a lady like Sin, that’s a lot to handle, especially when she’s practically been married to her job for most of her life,” Adonis says, smiling and conceding when I reach for Axel.
The baby settles against my chest with a snuffle and a sigh, and somehow, the small weight and warm baby smell of him settle me down.
“Yeah, well, she’s getting divorced, it seems. And I don’t know what’s worse—knowing that she’s giving up everything she’s ever wanted, or feeling slightly relieved that if she walks, I can sell the place and wash my hands of the responsibility.”
“Nope,” Adonis tells me, smiling when I frown.
“No?”
“Nope.”
“Nope what?”
“No, you aren’t selling Helos. Ever. I’ve talked to all the bros, and we all agree that this is your destiny, my friend.”
“Destiny? Adonis, what the hell are you talking about?” I ask in a whispered hiss, patting Axel’s diapered butt when he protests and whines before falling straight back to sleep.
“I’m talking about this restaurant. You wanted it; you got it, little brother. Helos is officially an asset of Hart Inc. And that means that you’re running the show, for better or for worse. You don’t sell it. You take what you’ve got, and you clean up the mess you made. Don’t interrupt. Like I was saying—you made a mess of it trying to drive Sin into the ground in order to get even with her for hurting you. Now it’s time you cleaned it up, made a go of it, and started to make a profit. And if you’re not fully understanding me, let me be even clearer. If you mismanage Helos, and that place goes down, then you’re fired.”
“From Helos?” I ask, praying the answer is yes, because without Sin, I don’t know that I want the place, anyway.
“From Hart Inc.”
“You cannot be serious,” I breathe, running a shaking hand through my hair when all three of my brothers meet my eyes and nod, completely serious.
“As a heart attack. You have exactly three months to turn a floundering business into a success and get those books into the black. If you don’t, you’re going to be pounding the pavement and looking for another job. By the way, I need reservations for tonight, and ask Sin if she’ll make that apple dessert that she took off the menu. Cleo loves that shit.”
And that, as they say, is the end of that.
Adonis and Chilli start discussing the upcoming acquisition of a small jewelry business that’s going to operate out of the spa that Chilli is in the middle of constructing in Utah, on land that borders some ancient Native American land. When they get into the economic advantages of adding traditional pieces and artwork to the place, spitballing ways to hire people from the surrounding area only, I know that they consider the case closed. And that means that I have absolutely n
o wiggle room.
“You should take this challenge and be grateful for it. Adonis has been slowly ripping his hair out for the last three months, trying to stop himself from firing you outright for your conduct, Paris,” Z says softly, after I sit beside him and look down at Axel.
That comes as a hell of a surprise to me, and I glance up sharply, only to see Z’s dead-serious stare shining back at me.
“He has? What the hell for?”
“This is his company, Paris. It may be a family business, but he’s the CEO—the head honcho, the big boss—and you seem to have forgotten that during the last few months. I’d say that he’s been incredibly patient with your just walking in and taking over wherever you see fit, not to mention his patience with you when you work till midnight, party till the wee hours of the morning, and then stumble in here looking like shit. Count your blessings, commit to Helos if not to Sin, and make things work.”
“I only bought that stupid place for her! And now she’s leaving. I don’t want to run a restaurant,” I say seriously. “I’m advertising and promo for Hart.”
“You’re a wheel in the machine, just like the rest of us. Don’t forget that you have three months to make Sin want to stay. Make the most of it, and woo her back into the job if you want to, but don’t hurt her,” he warns, his eyes holding secrets that I desperately want to know.
“What do you know?” I ask, shifting Axel with a grimace when something foul suddenly fills the air I’m breathing.
Time for Adonis to take him back, I think, rising and depositing the little tyke into his other uncle’s arms before he can catch a whiff. When he does, he curses and immediately tries to hand the kid off, his curses getting meaner when both Chilli and I take a step back and fold our arms.
“Motherfuckers,” he mutters, throwing us all death glares while Chilli laughs and grabs the diaper bag.
“I know a lot of stuff, Paris—stuff that I know Sin isn’t ready to tell anyone—and no, I am not telling you. It’s up to you to forgive her and get her to trust you enough to share it. What I will say is this: sometimes, something can hurt you so much that you aren’t yourself anymore. It’s those times when the people you love should love you more, even when you say things to hurt them, just like she hurt you. We all did her a great disservice by condemning her on the spot instead of asking ourselves why she was saying things that she wouldn’t usually say.”
“Zeus, man, I need a little more than that. Sin has no filter, so I have no idea—”
“Sin has a filter with strangers, Paris. It’s with the people she loves most that she’s unfiltered and raw. You should remember that when you talk to her and get your delicate little feelings hurt. Oh, and here,” he says, dropping Seth into my arms and running out as if his ass is on fire.
When I catch a whiff of the kid and start cursing, his laughter floats back towards me, leaving me in no doubt as to whether or not the asshole planned that move. He also leaves me mystified and more than a little unsettled, because if he’s telling me, in his own roundabout way, that Sin wasn’t herself when she blasted me, then I really have no choice but to get to the bottom of what is going on with her.
Chapter Five
Sinai
When life hands you lemons, throw them back at the bitch and place an order.
That’s what Uncle Jack told me the first time I lost a soccer match, and the one and only time Brenda Finny gave me a black eye back in fourth grade. It was a good lesson to take on board, and it served me well the next day, when I marched up to Brenda, gave her two black eyes, and threatened to shiv her on the playground if she so much as sniffed near me ever again.
It’s a lesson that I’ve kept close through everything I’ve had to overcome, from my difficulties at school, through college, and then in the restaurant, where I started as nothing more than a lowly busser before working my way up to server, prep cook, and sous-chef, taking orders from everyone around me. I’ve worked hard, squeezed every drop I could out of those lemons, and then thrown the juice back into life’s eyes with a sneer of defiance.
Today, however, that defiance is hard to maintain—though not because I had to do three jobs to prep for tonight’s service when I showed up at work today, or the fact that I think I broke my pinky toe when I tripped down the cellar stairs. No, the reason for my meek and uncharacteristic silence is one Paris Hart, who has spent the last—I check my watch—thirty minutes yelling at the staff he managed to coax back to the restaurant, demanding to know just what the hell their problems are.
I’ve already heard him ream out Andrea and completely decimate Vinny, and I am currently listening to him tell the six servers who are back at work, that if they give me even a moment’s worth of trouble, they can take their shit and leave.
That was after he told everyone what their basic wage would be, and may I just mention, before I continue, that the basic wage he’s offering is enough to make servers from all over the country drop what they’re doing and come to work for him with a smile. Hell, I want to be a server after I hear what he’s paying these people, and I hate that job.
“Are we clear?” he barks, nodding sharply when everyone flinches to attention and immediately answers, their postures stiff and clearly signaling that they’re dying to bolt just as soon as he gives them the nod.
When he does, the people all scatter, and I curse myself—and them—for the waste of time. But then I realize that I’ve already scrubbed everything down, set the tables, prepped all the ingredients, and even washed some dirty plates that, in my opinion, didn’t sparkle enough to pass muster.
I’m kinda used to working three jobs now, so with everyone, or nearly everyone, back and doing what they’re supposed to, I feel suddenly at loose ends. More so when I glance around the office and realize that everyone else is gone, leaving Paris and me alone. And boy oh boy—he’s staring at me again in that penetrating way that makes me squirm and long for an escape.
If I could run right now, I probably would.
“You should go home and get some sleep. You look worn out,” he says softly, his lips twitching when I scowl and curl my lip.
“Don’t flatter me too much, Hart. I may just attack you with gratitude,” I snort, shifting from one foot to the other and wishing that I’d worn my fur-lined Crocs.
Those shoes may be ugly, but they’re as comfortable as hell when you’ve been on your feet for close to eight hours and looking at another eight. At least.
“I’m not flirting with the likes of you, Sweet. The last time I did that, I got my heart smashed right under your ugly shoes.”
“Paris—”
“Besides, we work together, and, as much as I love breaking the rules, there’s one rule that I never mess with. I don’t flirt with or sleep with employees,” he cuts in, his smile easy and light.
I don’t think that I should trust it, but when I see a return of the naughty sparkle that I once loved so much, I find myself melting and smiling back. Until I realize what he’s just said. Then, my smile drops so fast that I gulp and have to clamp my lips closed in order to keep my damn mouth shut. He doesn’t sleep with employees? That’s funny, because I could have sworn that I saw him crawling all over one of the accountants from Hart Inc. when I saw them at Joe’s all-night bar a few weeks ago.
I wasn’t stalking him! Much. Okay, fine. So I sorta heard from Rosetta that he likes to party it up at that specific bar, and so I may have slipped my security’s leash one night and gone to check it out. My official story is that I needed a drink, and it’s the closest bar to my place. Ginger’s doesn’t count because I refuse to drink there on principle. That’ll teach them to make fun of redheads.
“I wasn’t suggesting that you do, asshole,” I grumble, swallowing loudly when he leans in and stops, his lips a heartbeat away from touching mine.
“Does that disappoint you, Sinai?” he drawls, his cheeky grin so sexy that I feel an ache of want set in between my legs, a throbbing want that I’ve been fighting for mon
ths.
“Why would it?”
“Oh, I dunno,” he muses softly, his breath tickling over my lips, his own so close that if I leaned in, I could seal our mouths together. “You look a little saddened by the news. What happened? Did I become a challenge after I stopped chasing you? You look like you want to be kissed, sweetheart,” he whispers, almost, but not quite, pressing his lips to mine.
It’s no secret to me that Paris has wanted to kiss me ever since we met. He’s made his play for just that, more than once now—and, God help me, I’ve wanted to fall for it so badly that I’ve kissed him countless times in my dreams. I want to kiss him right now, in fact—badly enough that I have to bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood in order to stop myself.
“I was being sarcastic, what with your compliments hitting their mark and all,” I mutter, grunting out a curse when he steps closer to me and forces me to crane my neck in order to meet his eyes.
I don’t want to. It would be so much easier to deal with him if I weren’t so completely aware of him without wanting to be, and it’d be a whole lot easier if my stubborn self would just ignore the challenge that he’s clearly throwing out at me by coming this close. Goddammit, I think, he smells good enough to lick all over, and if I weren’t such an idiot, I would have jumped at the chance to lick him months ago. Now, we’re barely friends—and so close to enemies that I feel my chest go tight with regret.
Remember why you pushed him away, I remind myself, needing the reminder to strengthen my weakening resolve.
“I wasn’t complimenting you—or trying to insult you, Sinai. I was pointing out that you’re running on empty, and you need a break. Take the night off, get some sleep, and come back here tomorrow, refreshed and ready to go all in,” he says softly, in that way I remember so well.
See? This is the whole reason that I don’t become friends with men I like. They’re easy to talk to, and they get under my skin. Seeing as how Paris is probably the only man that I have ever been friends with—and also wanted to screw, it makes it all the harder for me to keep reminding myself why we would never work out. And it doesn’t help that he’s being sweet right now, either, the insensitive pig.