by Meghan March
“What the fuck, Teal?” her sister snaps, pushing her against the lockers.
“He loves me. I know he does. Cannon’s always loved me. Why else would he be so nice to me?” She struggles against Tanya’s hold.
“Fucking hell,” Tanya whispers, wrapping her arms around her sister to calm her with a hug. “Teal, that’s not true. You’ve made this up in your head.”
“No! He loves me! I know it!”
I look at Tanya. “Get her out of here without making another scene. She’s not coming back. Got it?”
Tanya nods with a sad look of acceptance on her face. “I’m so sorry, Cannon. I was going to tell her today, but I knew . . . I knew she wouldn’t handle it well. I put it off to tomorrow, and it was a mistake. I fucked up, and you’re well within your rights to fire me too.”
“If he fires you, it’s because he can’t bear thinking about me, and that means he loves me!” Teal crows from her sister’s arms.
What a fucking clusterfuck. I shake my head and meet Tanya’s blue gaze.
“Find her a rehab place. If she’ll go, send me the bill. No arguing.”
Sadness etches lines deeper in Tanya’s face than should be there at the age of twenty-seven, but that’s not something I can change.
“You’re a good man, Cannon.”
“Take tomorrow off. Do whatever you need to do with Teal.”
I don’t reply to what she said about me being a good man. The jury’s still out on that, pending the results of the roofie test I still haven’t gotten back from Yoder. I make a mental note to call him tomorrow about the results, to make sure he hasn’t forgotten.
“I’ll get Grice, and he’ll escort you both down to the car out the back way.”
“Thank you.”
“No! I won’t go!”
Teal howls as I leave the break room and head back to my office, and I hope like hell no one else can hear her. When I step inside the hidden door, cigar smoke greets me in the hallway, where there should be none.
Fuck. That can only mean one thing.
Dom decided to hold a meeting tonight without letting me or the staff know, and he used the private elevator.
Except I’m wrong on one count—I find him sitting at my desk, ashing his cigar in a Baccarat crystal glass.
“Oh good, you’re here. Which means you can tell me why the fuck you haven’t dealt with Teal before it got ugly in front of club members.”
I open my mouth to reply, but he holds up a hand.
“After you tell me why the hell you’re making moves on the Rossettis before talking to me first, when we just struck a truce.”
Fucking. Great.
42
Drew
At the sound of the door closing and locking, I wake and jerk up in bed. Before I can rise, Cannon stands at the doorway to the bedroom. He looks like he got absolutely no sleep.
“What time is it?” I ask.
“Late. Or early, depending on how you want to look at it.”
I glance around for a clock but find no glowing lights to orient me. “So . . . that means?”
“Six a.m. I’ve been up all fucking night, and it kills me to see you all mussed and in my bed, knowing I didn’t get to be there with you.”
Coming more awake, I blink a few times. “What happened at the club? Is everything okay?”
He shakes his head and looks so weary that I climb out, still in his robe, and move toward him. I don’t know where the instinct comes from, but I feel like he needs a hug. Without another thought, I wrap my arms around Cannon and rest my cheek against his chest.
“I’m sorry for whatever happened.”
“Teal happened, and it was her own fault.”
I loosen my grip a fraction, not wanting to completely let him go, and glance up. “What do you mean?”
“She’s an alcoholic and needs to go to rehab, but it’ll be a miracle if she goes.” He pauses, sweeping some hair out of my face and tucking it behind my ear. “She thinks she’s in love with me.”
I squint up at him. “Um . . . why?”
Cannon cups my jaw with one hand as he slides the other one around my back. “I didn’t give her any reason to think that, if that’s what you’re asking.”
In that moment, I realize I trust him too much to think he would do something like that intentionally and then start something with me. Maybe it’s misplaced trust, but it’s there all the same.
“I didn’t think that. At all.”
“Good, because it’s not true. She’s a nice girl. Probably too pretty for her own good, and no one taught her that she’s got a hell of a lot more to offer to the world. According to Tanya, their dad walked out when they were young, and it fucked Teal up majorly.”
A rush of sadness sweeps through me. “I’m sorry. I know you care about your employees. It’s obvious from even the short amount of time that I’ve been working at the club. It must kill you to see her spiraling out of control without being able to help her.”
He opens his mouth to reply, but his phone vibrates in his jacket pocket. Pulling in a deep breath, he tilts his head back and stares up at the ceiling in annoyance.
“I gotta take this. Dom’s on my ass about Teal and the Rossettis. I hate to do this to you, but if you want to get your stuff, I’ll take you home.” He presses a kiss against my forehead. “I need you to work a double today, because neither Teal nor Tanya will be coming in. I’m really fucking sorry about that. I gotta rework the schedule for the next couple days, because I had some naive hope that Teal would work the rest of her shifts before she was done for good.”
“If that’s what I can do to help, don’t worry about it. I’m happy to.”
The lines of tension ease from his face as he tries to smile. “Thanks, babe. That means a lot to me.”
In that moment, I can’t help but wonder how many people go out of their way to do anything for this man, or if people count on him to be the steady, consistent one.
Yeah, and you were planning to betray him from day one, my inner voice whispers insidiously.
Not anymore, I snap back at it.
I step out of the warm circle of Cannon’s arms and smile. “It’ll just take me a second to get dressed. Sorry for borrowing your robe without asking.”
The remains of the lines on his face fade away. “Don’t ever apologize for that. It looks better on you than it ever has on me.”
Ten minutes later, we’re in the elevator heading down to the street level. But instead of leading me outside as I was expecting so we could ride back to my place in the Bentley, Cannon leads me through another door he unlocks.
“What is this?”
“You’ll see.”
He flips on the lights, and I realize it’s a garage. In Manhattan. Inside it are three covered cars and a motorcycle.
“Are all these yours?” I ask the stupid question as he releases my hand to pull the cover off the one closest to the large overhead door.
“Yeah. Cars are a hobby. I met a guy down south who does a hell of a job restoring them, and that way I only wrench on them if I want to for fun.”
He steps away, tugging the cover the rest of the way off, revealing a cherry-red muscle car with double white stripes slicing down the hood and chrome so shiny I can see my reflection.
“That is one sexy car.” I spin to look at him in awe. “You’ve been hiding that in here?”
“Not hiding. Protecting. I take care of what’s mine.”
The last part might have been an offhand comment, but it works its way into that warm, fuzzy feeling in my chest along with the memory of him calling out “Mine.”
“You ready for a hell of a ride home?”
I meet his hazel eyes and tell him the truth. “I’m going wherever you take me.”
43
Cannon
A drive through the city in the morning, before the bumper-to-bumper traffic, is one of my favorite things. Normally, I hop in the car around three or four a.m., and really let th
e Chevelle go from grumbling to roaring down the streets, racing from light to light.
But none of those early morning drives has anything on today and her.
God, but the sight of Drew’s dark hair blowing in the wind from the open window as she laughs when I turn and let the rear end break loose is the best damn thing I’ve ever seen or heard.
I knew falling for someone was supposed to make everything about them seem more special than it would be to an outsider, but I had no idea it would make a good moment become magical.
I’m so fucked.
And the kicker? I don’t even care. I let this happen. Despite every warning sign, I’ve gone and done the one thing I’ve never done before. I’ve fucking fallen in love.
I didn’t expect it to be this easy. I didn’t expect it to happen this fast. But like my mother said, “Love doesn’t care about time. It only needs the right moment.”
For years, I’ve wondered how she could have possibly gotten wrapped up in a man like Dominic Casso, but now I get it. It doesn’t matter who a person truly is when your heart is making the decision—it shows you the best and the brightest of them as all of their faults fade away.
I’m willing to bet a hell of a lot of money, even this car that I’d wanted for twenty years before I got it, that nothing Drew is hiding could be as bad as what Dom hid from my mother. And even when she found out the truth, her dedication didn’t waver.
Maybe that’s how Freemans are built. We fall hard and fast like naive motherfuckers, and damn the consequences.
When I make the last right to turn down the street where Drew’s building is located, she reaches out and squeezes my hand on the shifter.
“Thank you for last night. And this morning. Really, thank you for everything.” Her turquoise eyes are shining, and the smile on her makeup-free face is everything I thought it would be. Absolutely stunning. Regal even. Like she was born to have men worshipping at her feet.
For the life of me, I can’t figure out why she covers it all up, but I don’t need to understand everything about her . . . yet.
“You’re beautiful. Always, but especially just like this.”
The blush I’ve seen rise from her chest actually does spread all the way to her bare cheekbones. Her dark lashes sweep down to contrast with her lightly tanned skin and a few freckles.
When she looks back up at me, there’s a serious expression on her face. “I never let anyone see me like this. Ever.”
“Why?”
She presses her lips together, hesitating. I’m waiting for a pithy deferral, but instead, she gives me something different. “It’s complicated. I really, really want to tell you why, though. I just . . . I’m afraid of how you’re going to react.”
I want to tell her that she can tell me anything right now. That it won’t change a thing. But I’m not sure that’s the truth yet, and I don’t want to give her anything but.
“Tomorrow morning, I want to see you the same way, except still soft and warm from sleep, in my bed. How about you tell me then? No more pretenses. No more lies.”
An uncertain expression crosses her face before she takes a deep breath. “I would really, really like that. It’s time.” The uncertainty morphs into sadness as she pulls her hand back, and I have a feeling I’m not going to like what she has to say.
I double-park in front of her building and shift the Chevelle into neutral. This time, I grab her fingers and tangle them with mine.
“Whatever you’re hiding from, I promise I can handle it. I’ve got strong shoulders. Put your burden on me.”
I don’t know where that came from, but I mean it. I want to make her life easier. Want to ease the worry and edginess that seems second nature to her. Hell, I really am well and truly fucked.
“You might want to hold off on believing that until you hear what I have to say,” she says with her brows knitting together.
“Let me worry about that. I’ll see you at the club. I’ll send Warren over to get you.”
Drew squeezes my hand and leans over to press a kiss on my lips. “You’re a good man, Cannon.”
With a hand slipping into her hair, I take the kiss deeper, memorizing the taste of her lips, until someone honks from behind us. I throw up a middle finger out the window and don’t pull back until I’m good and ready.
“The world can go to hell when I’m with you,” I whisper.
Drew’s entire face softens. “I’ll see you soon,” she replies, fumbling for her purse and her jacket while trying to open the door.
The contents of her purse spill on the floor as she tries to maneuver the old-school handle, and I try not to blink when I realize I was right and she does have two cell phones. I tell myself I’m not betraying everything I just said and thought when I help her gather her things up from the floorboards and accidentally shove the iPhone with no case—the one that her mom called on—beneath the seat while she’s climbing out.
“I think you got it all.”
From behind me, the car honks again, and I take it as a reason to get the hell out of there with a wave at the girl I know is hiding something big.
I might be in love, but I’m still a cautious motherfucker.
I’ve learned one cardinal rule from Dom while living under his reign—never walk into a situation you’re not eminently prepared to confront. Otherwise, it might cost you your life.
When I fish the phone out from the seat, I stare down at the screen.
Whatever Drew plans to tell me tomorrow morning, I plan on already knowing it.
44
Drew
Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.
That’s all I can repeat in my head over and over, because I have to figure out a way to come clean and not end up with Cannon hating me.
Hating me? Is that what I’m really worried about? I should be more worried about him turning me over to Dom, who probably still encases people’s feet in concrete before tossing them off a pier.
Falling for Cannon has changed everything, though. But how the hell am I going to tell him everything?
I still haven’t come up with an answer four and a half hours later when Warren pulls up in front of my building with the Escalade.
“Good morning, Ms. Carson,” he says, and I try not to wince. My alias grates on my ears when he says it.
“Good morning, Warren. How are you?”
“Can’t complain. It’s another day in paradise.”
I settle in the back of the car and pull out my phone to do some mindless scrolling during the ride, but when I open my purse, a terrifying realization hits me hard.
I only have one phone. Where is my other phone?
I dig around in my purse, but I don’t see it. I’m not imagining that it’s not here. My brain skips back to this morning when I couldn’t open a door handle from the 1970s and spilled everything on the floorboard of Cannon’s car.
No. No. No. I didn’t leave it there. I didn’t. I wouldn’t have. I couldn’t have. It has to be back in my apartment in the clothes I wore home.
Right? Of course. That’s exactly where it is.
It’s going to be fine.
Totally fine.
But I’m lying to myself, just like I’ve lied to Cannon since the moment my résumé landed on his desk. And tomorrow I’m going to tell him everything and hope to live to see the next day . . . without him hating me forever.
Jesus Christ, I’m a fucking idiot. Who thought this was a good plan? Surely not me. Because it sounds like the absolute worst plan in the entire world.
He won’t hurt me. He couldn’t. That’s one thing I do truly believe. But how the hell do I think it’s going to turn out when I put Cannon in the position where he’s keeping something vital from Dom? I could get him killed.
At that thought, every single drop of blood in my body runs cold.
I can’t do that to him. I love him.
Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
A strangled sound escapes my throat, and Warren meets my
gaze in the rearview mirror.
“You okay, Ms. Carson?”
That name. Again. It’s like nails on a chalkboard or someone crunching on shards of glass.
No, don’t think about things like torture.
I can’t do this. I can’t do any of this, but I nod for Warren’s sake.
What the fuck am I going to do now? How am I going to fix the mess I’ve made?
My first instinct is to run. Far and fast, and call leaving my heart in New York City in the safekeeping of Cannon Freeman as my penance for thinking I could do this. But the car keeps rolling toward the Upper Ten. Short of opening the door and throwing myself out into oncoming traffic, there’s nothing I can do to stop the chain of events I’ve unleashed.
My heart rate kicks up, and my palms sweat.
Stay cool. Act cool. Be cool. I silently repeat my mantra before I realize I need more than that. I need someone a hell of a lot smarter than me to weigh in.
Desperate, I stare up at the ceiling of the car.
Dad, what would you do? Please give me some kind of guidance, because I’m in really fucking deep and I’m about to be in over my head.
After my silent prayer for assistance, I wait for any sign from him or the universe to light up in neon, telling me how to fix things before I destroy it all.
But when we stop in front of the building housing the club, I still have zero answers. I thank Warren for the ride and hop out of the car with as much enthusiasm as a death row inmate walking toward the lethal injection room.
To make matters worse, the man who will stand as my executioner is waiting for the elevator when I step inside.
“Drew, good to see you again. How are things?”
Dominic Casso’s voice, a slightly deeper version of his son’s, is enough to raise every hair on the back of my neck. But it’s his stare, those nearly black, all-seeing eyes, that unnerves me as they drill into mine, searching for all my hidden secrets.
My mortality, something I didn’t think about too often before this investigation, is now at the forefront of my mind. I may not live to see the weekend. My stomach churns, and with each flop, the knot that takes up residence there grows bigger and more heinous.