Andrew slowly let out the pressure escape his lungs. Still there. She knew the worst and she was still fucking there. He couldn’t believe it. What had he done to deserve her loyalty? Or that of the people sitting with him around the table?
“Andrew wouldn’t let us help…” Jamie started. “Move him.”
“Rory couldn’t be anywhere near that shit when he already had a record,” Andrew said, remembering the moment he’d watched his father’s face disappear into the depths of the ocean—in a far out location he’d never reveal. It wasn’t information anyone he loved should carry the burden of, except to know the man would never be found. “And you, Jamie. You’d just started teaching. The less you knew the better. I’ve always believed that, but…I don’t have any choice but to tell you what’s happening now.” Andrew looked at Jamie and Rory. “That cop that’s been following me. He knows.”
Jamie cursed. Rory sat up straighter. “Jesus Christ. How?”
“Surveillance at the hardware store. Receipts that match the time stamp. The fact that our father’s forwarding address is bullshit. That might not be enough, but he knows I signed our father’s name on the bar paperwork, signing it over to me. He—”
“He’s threatening you,” Jiya finished, sounding out of breath.
“Yeah,” Andrew said hoarsely. “And you. Spice. He knows…”
“He knew where to hit you the hardest.” Jamie supplied, massaging his eye sockets beneath his glasses. “Jiya.”
Andrew could feel Jiya’s stare warming the side of his face, giving him no choice but to turn his head—and if he’d been standing, the ache her features betrayed would have brought him to his knees. “I would never let anything happen to you. I would die first. You know that, right?”
She gulped a breath and nodded, but still appeared unsettled. God, of course she was. She was trying to go about her life and he stood at the fringes, doing his best to fuck it up. She was probably wishing she’d never associated herself with him.
“What is he forcing you to do with these threats?” Olive asked, her light brows drawn together. Halfway through her sentence, Rory pulled her into his lap and held her close.
“He’s having me transport goods from a supplier to a distributer.”
Jamie blanched. “What kind of goods?”
“No guns or drugs, thank God. Not yet, anyway. He sent me to a location in Jersey. I picked up the truck, drove it to a second location and walked. But Handler failed to mention he owed the middle men some money and they wanted to send a message.” He gestured to his face. “There was at least eight guys. I couldn’t fend them off for long.”
“Goddammit, Andrew,” Rory rasped. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” Jamie said, his skin turning chalky. “I know what that feels like.”
Marcus pulled Jamie’s chair closer and took his hand, bringing it to his mouth. Kissing the gold wedding band there. “We need a solution, Andrew. You can’t do it again.”
“No. You can’t,” Jiya echoed in a husky voice that made Andrew wish like hell he could touch her. “A cop is blackmailing you. That’s not supposed to happen. There has to be some way out. A way to make him leave you alone.”
“If there is, I don’t know what it is,” Andrew said. “I’m stuck. And I’ll do this shit forever as long as he leaves everyone at this table alone.”
“Except you, right?” Rory spat. “Fuck that, A. We’ll find a way out together. And in the meantime, I’ll come with you on the runs—”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Rory, that’s not happening,” Jamie interjected with a firm headshake. “You’ve already got one strike on your record, man. I’ll go with him—”
Marcus burst out laughing. “Over my dead fucking body, Jamie.” The newlyweds had a stare down that lasted all of five seconds before Marcus leaned in and kissed Jamie hard on the mouth. Then he lifted his left shirt sleeve and made his triceps dance. “Pretty sure I’m the ideal candidate to go along as the muscle. End of discussion. I’ll even let you have control of the radio.”
Olive giggled into Rory’s chest.
“Hey.” Rory slapped the table to get Andrew’s attention. “Bottom line, we’ll figure this out. All right? You’re not doing this alone anymore. And you’re not selling the house to isolate yourself—”
“Selling the house?” Jiya shot up in her chair. “You’re selling the house?”
Andrew wouldn’t lie to her. “Thinking about it, yeah.”
Now it was Andrew and Jiya’s turn for a stare down. Chairs started to scuffle back around them and some casual whistling ensued as his brothers and their significant others left the dining room, leaving Andrew and Jiya alone. Alone with Jiya was his idea of heaven on earth, but not being able to touch her—never being able to touch her again—was torturous. It was the annihilation of his sanity. So he sat very still in his chair, bracing for his stability to erode further.
“I don’t hold what you did against you,” she said choppily. “Maybe it’s wrong to say it, but I hated that man for what he did to you. Your mother. Over and over again with no consequences. You reacted. You protected your mother. I just can’t think badly of you for that.” She wet her lips. “Did you think I would? Is that why you’ve stayed away from me all this time?”
“I didn’t want to touch you with blood on my hands, Jiya. You deserve better.”
“I deserve better than a man who shoulders the burden of an entire family? Day in and day out? I deserve better than a man who puts himself in peril so everyone can continue their normal, happy lives? What better man is there? I’d like to meet him.”
“You better have already met him,” Andrew bit out. “You better not have allowed an unworthy man to put a ring on your finger, Jiya. That would be a crime more offensive than mine.”
“Fine.” She pushed to her feet. “Here we go. Let’s talk about the ring.”
Andrew stood, too, his neck bristling. “Good. Talk.”
“I shouldn’t be wearing it. Not when I love you so much.” Her chest shuddered with the admission. “Not when I’ve loved you since I was ten years old.”
“You…what?” His knees dipped, euphoria colliding with overwhelming regret in his middle. Had he heard her right? After everything he’d just told her…after he’d pushed her away and she’d found someone else…she loved him? Him? Christ, he didn’t know whether he was flying high or buried six feet under. How could this be happening now, when being together was no longer possible? “Jiya…”
Moisture glinted in her eyes. “I love you.”
A hoarse sound escaped him.
She jabbed the air between them with a finger. “You love me.”
“Yes. God yes,” he growled, his heartbeat whipping into a frenzy. “I love you more than life. I don’t remember a second that wasn’t filled with love and more love and need for you.” Reality was a cold bucket of water to the face, though it took several beats to come down from the high of her admission. Jiya Dalal. Loved him. “I love you way too much to shackle you to me when I have no way of knowing if I’ll ever be clear of this shit. I couldn’t do that.” He ground the heel of his hand against his sternum in an attempt to stem the pressure. “I would never make you the wife of a man who moves stolen goods. It’s bad enough you’d be married to a murderer. And I for damn certain, sweetheart…couldn’t ask you to give up the restaurant.”
“But if things were different…”
“If things were different,” he laughed, without humor, bitterness clogging his throat. “Do you know what it’s doing to me that I can’t kiss you right now? I’m a fucking shell.” He pulled at the ends of his hair. “I shouldn’t ask, but…has he touched you?”
“No. No,” she whispered. “I couldn’t bear it.”
Relief sped through him, top to bottom. He stumbled toward her, walking her backward without touching her. “Go home before I try and fuck you. Go home before I let this jealousy out. You don’t want to meet it, Jiya. I’m going i
nsane.”
“Insane enough to sell your house,” she hiccupped.
“That’s right.” He inhaled the scent of her shampoo. “I want you to be happy more than anything in the world, but I’m not strong enough to watch it.”
Silence fell between them and he could see thoughts moving behind Jiya’s expressive eyes. Thoughts he was almost afraid for her to vocalize because they might give him hope. Hope could be a dangerous thing. “Isn’t everything supposed to fix itself when two people admit they’re in love?” she asked quietly, her damp gaze slipping to his mouth. “I’m feeling pretty led on by Hollywood right now.”
His laugh was pained. Lord, he wanted to devour her. Wrap her up in his arms and hold on forever. But all he could do was look at her and adore her. This woman would rule his world forever and if he’d done something to make her reciprocate those feelings, even by the smallest fraction, he’d hold on to the satisfaction of that like a miser, treasuring the knowledge.
He heard her swallow. “We’re all in this together now, okay? There’s a way out, we just have to find it.” Lying unspoken between them was the fact that even if he shook Handler, they still couldn’t be together. Not when she’d been handed a golden future with someone else.
As if reading his thoughts, Jiya’s ducked her head. “Good night, Andrew.”
He wrestled back the impulse to bury his fingers in her hair, kiss the breath out of both of them. “Good night, Jiya.”
His hungry eyes tracked her through the window until she was safely inside her house.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jiya stood at the kitchen counter packing up ingredients to bring next door. Over the last half hour, morning light had spread like butter across the floor, warming her bare feet. She’d missed the crackling anticipation of preparing to go next door. Making breakfast with the Prince brothers had been part of her routine for years and, apart from her goodnights with Andrew, a favorite part of her daily routine.
This morning’s anticipation had a sharp edge of trepidation, however, making her hands clumsy. After leaving the Prince house last night, the plan had been to attempt some sleep. But she’d been far too restless. She’d lain awake in her bed until midnight came and went, mentally playing out two versions of her life. In one, she married Ajay. They had a stable life, companionship, children. She woke up every morning and ran the new restaurant, like her mother did now with the original Spice. Flying became a distant memory, but in exchange she made her parents proud and passed on a foundation to her children.
In the other scenario, she married Andrew.
Pinpricks traveled over Jiya’s skin, tickling her scalp. Her pulse skipped and swelled in a crescendo of pumps. The very thought of being his wife made her body vibrate like a tuning fork. Made her heart constrict in her chest. There would be a different kind of stability with Andrew. There would be security within their love. The fact that she was with the person who knew her, through and through. There would be laughter and craziness and passion. Passion beyond words.
When it came down to it, last night in the dark, a restaurant couldn’t compete. Not even making her parents instantaneously proud could compare to being with Andrew.
She’d be sentencing herself to life with half a soul.
Before she could guess her own intentions, she’d gotten out of bed, dressed and driven to Ajay’s apartment in Long Island City last night. He’d known why she was there. That much had been obvious as soon as he’d opened the door with a wry smile on his face.
The engagement was off.
She took solace in two facts. One, Ajay hadn’t been all that broken up about the called off engagement. He’d thanked Jiya for doing it in person and being kind about it. Two, they’d known each other less than a week and she hadn’t dragged out the decision her heart had deemed a mistake since the beginning.
Yes. That’s right. Accepting a marriage proposal from a nice, eligible businessman who came with a restaurant attached? Mistake.
Holding out for a murderer? Clearly the right thing to do.
Jiya covered her face with her hands to muffle a hysterical laugh. It had never been more obvious that this love she possessed for Andrew Prince was consuming and unconditional. Sitting at his dining room table last night, there hadn’t been a single second where she’d had doubt about his character or his intentions. She’d only seen the love of her life trying to do his best with the shit he’d been shoveled—and she’d been almost desperate to join him in that shit. Because being at Andrew’s side in the worst possible conditions was favorable to being beside a king in a castle.
Her heart needed him to keep beating. Simple as that.
She sifted some fresh turmeric into a Ziploc bag for the khichdi, intending to replenish the brothers’ supply, tucking it into her tote bag and pausing to acknowledge what worried her most. Even after calling off her engagement for Andrew, she still didn’t know if they would be together. His stubborn self wouldn’t commit to her unless he could give her safety. Security. A life free of the burden he’d taken on in the name of his father’s sins. In the name of the sins he’d committed against his father. But she’d walked into that uncertainty willingly, hadn’t she? Knowing they loved each other was almost enough to sustain her happiness. For now.
Not forever, though.
Last night in the dark, something had happened inside of her.
Something expansive and electrifying and wonderful. She’d experienced the beginnings of it on the beach with Andrew when she’d been handed the reins, the control. She’d felt another stirring of power when she’d streaked through the sky in the airplane, a scene straight out of her fantasies.
Getting what she wanted meant fighting for it. Taking it.
No more sitting back and toiling away, believing good things would happen if she just worked a little harder or made those around her happier.
She deserved her wildest dreams to come true right now.
Reaching out and taking them meant reaching out and taking them.
Jiya had to have faith. She would have faith. They were a six-part team now and they’d see Andrew clear of this mess. She just needed it to be soon, because her heart—and her body—couldn’t continue this life separate from Andrew anymore. Even now, she could see him, feel him in his kitchen. Looking for her. Waiting for her. Needing her.
She closed her eyes and pressed her hips to the counter, wishing for his hands there. On her waist, sliding down to her backside. That hard part of him nudging her tummy. His gruff, broken sounds in her hair.
Her breath released on a frustrated shudder and she reminded herself of today’s plan. For all they knew, it could take months to figure out this mess with Handler—and Jiya wasn’t waiting that long to explore the panty-melting attraction between her and Andrew, so he could forget that nonsense. They’d waited long enough.
She’d just finished packing her ingredients when her mother shuffled into the kitchen in her slippers. “Jiya.”
“Mother.”
The older woman propped a hip against the counter and tightened the belt of her robe. “Was that you I heard sneaking in late last night?”
“I wasn’t sneaking. And yes.”
Her mother’s eyebrow ticked up after some silence.
Jiya forced herself to stop fidgeting with the strap of her tote bag. She was more nervous about telling her mother about the broken engagement than she’d been to break it. If that wasn’t proof that pressure had factored into her decision to accept the proposal, nothing was. “I went to see Ajay last night.”
Her mother’s nails tapped on the counter. “So late at night? It’s very soon for that sort of thing, isn’t it, Jiya? You only met him on Sunday.”
A laugh rushed out of her. “Yes. I only met him on Sunday. I guess that’s soon enough to agree to marriage, but not to sleep together.”
“You slept together?”
“No. No we did not. There was some awkward hugging involved, at best.” Jiya waited until she
had her emotions in check and turned toward her mother. “I broke the engagement, mother. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t marry Ajay. I don’t love him. I’ll never love anyone but…”
“But the boy next door?” Her mother pushed away from the counter in a jerky movement and crossed the kitchen, keeping her back to Jiya. “I knew this would happen. I knew you wouldn’t be able to let him go, even though he’s never offered you anything but waiting. And waiting. He has you on a leash, Jiya.”
Her face smarted, but she breathed through the shock. “I know you can’t see it, mother, but I have him on one, too. It’s not a relationship I can explain to you. I’m still figuring it out myself, but I know if I married another man, I would be miserable. I would ache for him.”
“Don’t be crass.”
“I don’t mean intimately…” Her mother turned with a skeptical expression. “Okay fine, there might be some intimate issues—”
“Jiya,” she said on a withering sigh.
“But the pain would be in my heart and my stomach and my fingertips, too,” Jiya rushed to say. “We’ve belonged to each other since the beginning of time. I’ve loved him since the day he walked through the gap in our fence.”
Her mother softened momentarily but buried it under a frown. “He’ll just keep stringing you along. You’re being foolish.”
“I’d rather be foolish and hopeful than be smart and unhappy. That’s my choice. I’m sorry you don’t agree with it.” She extended a hand to her mother, letting it drop. “Andrew wants us to be together. There are just some road blocks—”
“For years I’ve watched you wait. When you were attending college and told me you were dating, I thought that was it. I even told Andrew you were seeing people, so he’d back off. But every time you came home, he got back under your skin like a stubborn splinter.” She huffed. “I thought you’d finally realized it was for nothing.”
Indignation rose in her stomach, hard as concrete. “It’s not for nothing and you shouldn’t have told him that. It wasn’t your business. And by the way, I went on three dates and all of them sucked, because I’ve always been in love with someone else. One person.” She lifted a hand and let it drop. “What else have you said to Andrew that I should know about?”
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