by Kelly Myers
“Omigod,” I say and peek over the side. The Ledge is a glass box that extends out over four feet from the Skydeck. It’s made of three layers of half-inch thick glass and ready for us to step out on it.
Drew hops right up on the glass floor like it’s nothing, but I hesitate. He does a little tapdance which nearly gives me a heart attack and then reaches his hand out to me. “Do you trust me?” he asks.
I trust him just not the glass, I think. Nevertheless, I reach up and feel his warm fingers wrap around mine and then he lifts me up into the glass box, pulling me into his arms. I hug him hard and dare to look over his shoulder.
“Look down,” he whispers at my ear.
I take a deep breath, pull back and look down between us. We stand 1,353 feet in the air and it’s terrifying, yet at the same time, completely exhilarating. The city lies directly below us and my heart pounds.
Drew must see my pulse pumping because he lays a hand over my thundering heart. “You’re okay. I’ve got you,” he says.
“Who’s got you?” I ask.
His breathy laughter rustles my hair. “We’re going to go over there next,” he says and points toward Michigan Avenue just north of the Chicago River. “That’s the Magnificent Mile and it’s full of boutiques. Basically, endless shopping.”
“We’re going shopping?”
“I figure we both need something new to wear to the Green Mill tonight.”
He’s keeping his promise when he wrote me as Andy and I think it’s endearing. “Have I told you how amazing you are lately?” I ask. I pull my gaze away from the incredible view and focus on the even more beautiful view of the man before me.
A smile curves his mouth and when he leans in to kiss me, an employee snaps our picture. I pull away with a laugh and Drew is already reaching for his wallet. “I’ll definitely buy that,” he says.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Drew
The Magnificent Mile boasts more than 450 retail stores, but I’m only interested in the best. I direct Raymond to drive us straight to Gucci.
I don’t have patience when it comes to shopping so I usually have a tailor take my measurements and then designers custom-make whatever clothing I may need. But, I know women usually like to shop and Ashley seems no different as we walk into the store.
With wide, appreciative eyes, she runs a hand over the high-end garments and oohs and ahhs over certain pieces that catch her interest. A sales associate hurries over and I tell her we need something casual, yet chic for a date at the Green Mill tonight.
Within minutes, Ashley and the associate pull together a pile of looks and then she disappears into a dressing room. I sit in a chair outside and wait to see what she decides to come out and model for me. The rustling of her removing her clothing starts my imagination spinning and I would love to open that door and lift her up against the mirror and-
“Mr. Carson,” another associate says. “We’re putting a rolling rack of things together for you to take a look at when you’re done here.”
I nod my thanks and patiently wait for Ashley. Then, she opens the door and pokes her head out. “Drew,” she whispers and lifts an arm where a price tag dangles. “We can still go down to the mall.”
“Get out here,” I say.
The door opens fully and she walks out to model the black dress. It’s flattering on her like everything else and I watch her walk back and forth.
“Do you like it?”
“Do you?” she asks.
“Honestly, I prefer you naked, but that’s not an option.”
“Stop!” She giggles.
My gaze drifts to another dress hanging on a hook. “What about the red one?” I ask, instantly thinking about her profile picture on PerfectMatch.com. Ashley looks fucking amazing in red.
“I was going to try that one next. Hang on,” she says and slips back into the fitting room.
When the door reopens a minute later, my heart catches in my throat. “That’s it,” I say, unable to pull my eyes off her. She looks stunning in the short red swing dress. The gauzy material flows over a slip dress beneath and the only thing missing is the pair of sky-high silver shoes.
Which, I suddenly realize she’s been wearing all day. “How are your feet holding up?” I ask. I’m such an idiot. I’ve been making the poor thing walk all over Chicago and didn’t even think about how sore her feet may be.
“They’re okay,” she says. “But, this is a much-needed rest.”
She decides on the red dress much to my satisfaction and then helps me choose a new shirt, slacks and tie.
I carry our bags back to the Mercedes-Maybach and help Ashley inside. Then, I have Raymond drive us over to the nearby Four Seasons Hotel. I know they have a premiere spa and I’m getting Ashley in there for a pedicure after walking in those damnable heels all day. While she’s being pampered, I’ll book us a suite so we have a place to get ready for our night out.
Luckily, the Presidential Suite occupying the corner of the 46th floor is available and more than adequate with large windows and a lake view. Ashley walks from room to room, jaw practically dragging on the floor.
“This is gorgeous,” she exclaims. “And, we’re not even staying the night?”
“It’s paid for the night, but I have to get back to San Francisco for a meeting tomorrow. I’m sorry, honey.”
“It seems like such a waste,” she says, eyeing the huge King-size bed.
“I promise we will come back.”
With a nod and smile, she walks up and kisses me. “I’d like that.” Then, she’s off to her pedicure at the spa and I decide to take a shower. A part of me yearns to stay overnight and make better use of the full marble bathroom with Ashley and normally I would. But, the meeting about the takeover hangs over my head and I’m ready to swoop in for the kill and end it once and for all.
Located Uptown at Lawrence and Broadway, the sign for the Green Mill Cocktail Lounge is neon green. Raymond drops us off out front and I walk around and help Ashley out of the Maybach. That little dress is killing me, but I will be every bit the gentleman. For now.
Jazz music envelopes us as I escort her inside and the owner and fellow south-sider heads over and shakes my hand. “Drew Carson, where the hell have you been?”
“Good to see you, Dave,” I say. Then, I introduce Ashley to Dave Jemilo. “He’s owned this place for the last 30 years and thank God for that.”
“Yeah, it used to be a dump,” he says and we laugh.
“Now it’s the most-admired jazz place in the world,” I say.
“You just wanna sit in the booth,” Dave says knowingly.
I shrug. “I’m not going to deny it. It’s her first time here.”
When Ashley smiles, who can say no? I think. “Well, in that case…” Dave motions for us to follow him and he leads us over to the revered booth. “I’ll have someone come right over with a Scotch and…” he looks at me.
“Bring her whatever girly martini you can make,” I say as we slide into the seat.
“You got it,” he says with a chuckle.
I look at Ashley in the dim-lighting and my mouth edges up. “Well? Here we are at the Green Mill in Al Capone’s favorite booth. Just like I promised.”
She shakes her head. “It’s incredible.”
“So, each night when Capone came in, the band would stop playing and immediately start his favorite song, ‘Rhapsody In Blue.’ He and his men would sit here because it allows a clear view of both the front and back entrances. And, if you look behind the bar at the very end, there’s a trap door that leads to a tunnel where he could make a quick getaway if he needed.”
“Is it still there?”
I nod. “But, Dave doesn’t give tours of the tunnel.”
“Have you ever been down there?”
“Maybe once or twice,” I say with a sly look.
A waitress appears and sets our drinks on the table. “Compliments of Dave,” she says. I nod my thanks and we lift our glasses and c
link them together.
“To you,” Ashley says. “Thank you for giving me the greatest day ever.”
“You’re welcome.” Her words touch me and I sip the Scotch, wishing like hell we could stay the night in Chicago.
After a couple more drinks, a lot of jazz and endless conversation, I can see how tired Ashley is getting. Shit, at this point, neither of us has slept in nearly 36 hours. I square the bill, leave an exorbitant tip and guide her out the front door.
Raymond waits at the curb and I open the door for Ashley. After she settles inside, I move around and get in on the other side.
Just as I’m about to tell Raymond to take us to the airport, Ashley lays a hand over mine. “Can we go to one more place?” she asks.
I have no idea what she has in mind so I nod. “Of course, honey. Where are you thinking?”
“Can we go to your old house?”
It’s the last thing I expect to hear and I don’t answer right away. It’s been 37 years since I’ve been back to that shithole and I never had any plans to return. I’m not sure I even remember how to get there.
“Why?”
“I’d like to see where you grew up.”
I ponder her words for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No. Actually, it’s fine. Let’s go.” I give Raymond the address and we head toward the South side of Chicago.
I’m quiet for most of the ride and wonder why Ashley wants to see my childhood home. As we leave the downtown district and head down Ashland toward New City, the neighborhoods become more rundown, industrial and ethnically diverse.
Near 47th Street, Raymond slows down. “Welcome to Back of the Yards,” I say. Not much looks different. Still dirty and blue-collar. Except, maybe it looks smaller.
“Back of the Yards?” Ashley repeats.
“We’re near the former Union Stock Yards,” I explain. “The old meatpacking district. Did you ever read ‘The Jungle’ by Upton Sinclair?”
A light goes off and she nods. “The conditions were horrible.”
“Yeah, well, they closed down in the early 1970’s.”
Raymond pulls up to a rundown apartment complex. “Here we are,” I say and look out at the dreary place. It still looks as small, rundown and depressing as ever. “Part of the reason that I push myself so fucking hard.”
“You lived there?” she asks and points to the building. When I nod, she opens her door and gets out.
“Ashley!” I jump out and follow her onto the sidewalk. “What are you doing? This isn’t the safest neighborhood to go wandering around.”
“I just wanted a closer look. This place helped make you who you are today.”
“For better or worse,” I say.
“For better,” she confirms and drops down onto a bench. I sit down beside her and hope to God no one sees the $425,000 Mercedes-Maybach and tries to carjack it.
“I can’t believe I’m back here.” I look around and even though it’s been so long, it almost feels like yesterday.
“Are you okay?” She reaches for my hand.
“It’s a little surreal, but, yeah, I mean it is what it is, right?”
“Growing up poor must’ve been hard, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of because it’s made you into the strongest and kindest man I’ve ever met.”
I don’t know about that, but her words touch me.
“I guess I just wanted to see what helped shape you into the amazing man you are today. I feel like I owe this place something for turning Andy into Drew. Does that make any sense?”
“In a weird way,” I say and squeeze her hand.
“And, I thought it might help you find closure. A way to say goodbye to your past.”
It makes sense. I haven’t been back here since I was a child, but this place has haunted me for years. It’s always in the back of my mind and more than once I’ve found myself wrestling with the ghosts from Back of the Yards.
“You’re a very smart woman,” I say and kiss her forehead. A sliver of moonlight brightens her face and I feel my heart give a kick. I’m developing some serious feelings for Ashley Monroe and today just strengthens and solidifies them. “Let’s head to the airport and, on the way, I want to hear more about your family.”
Safely back in the Maybach, Raymond begins driving us back to Midway Airport. I turn to Ashley and smile. A newfound peace fills me and I know I have her to thank.
“Tell me about your family. I know how important they are to you.”
“I’d do anything for my Mom and brother,” she says. “They mean the world to me. Even though my brother and I are ten years apart and have different fathers, James and I are really close. He’s a typical big brother. Protective, supportive and, on occasion, annoying.”
“That’s what big brothers are for, right?” I ask with a chuckle. “He sounds like a good man.” James. Not my favorite name at the moment, but I’ll get over it.
“He is. I think you two would really like each other,” she says. “My Dad raised us both until he died of cancer. I was five so I never knew him that well, but I know he was a good man and my Mom loved him dearly.”
“Fucking cancer,” I say. “It doesn’t care who you are or how much money you have, does it?” Her Dad and my Mom, both taken too early by such a horrid disease.
Ashley shakes her blonde head.
“What about your brother’s father?” I ask. Ten years is quite an age gap for siblings, I think.
“He and my Mom were high school sweethearts. It didn’t last after James was born.”
Suddenly, a strange feeling passes through me and I get this weird sinking sensation in my stomach. Over the years, I have learned to trust my gut. Right now, my gut tells me something is wrong. “What does your brother do?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant.
“He started a tech company a few years ago. It’s wildly successful and I’m so proud of him.”
“In San Francisco?” Please, no.
“Yes.”
Oh, God, this can’t be happening. It has to be a coincidence. What are the fucking chances Ashley Monroe’s brother is James Douglas? My mind refuses to accept it.
“He and my Mom both live there,” Ashley continues. “We have dinner together every Sunday night. Maybe you could come some time?” She raises hopeful eyes at me and I look away, thinking about everything she just said. Thinking about sitting across the dinner table from James Douglas. I can only imagine what would happen and picture us launching at each other over the mashed potatoes and gravy.
Fists would fly and we’d try to beat the living daylights out of each other, rolling around on the floor like boys, trying to kill each other while Ashley and her poor Mother cry for us to stop, not understanding what’s happening.
What a mess.
“Sounds nice,” I say in a very noncommittal way.
“They would love you. And, you would love my Mom’s cooking.”
I’m sure her Mom’s cooking is great, but all I can hear is James and I throwing punches and knocking that wonderful dinner all over the floor. I know I’m being quiet all of a sudden and I see concern move through her blue-green eyes.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“Fine,” I say and glance out the window. My mind is going a million miles a minute, turning gears, spinning, trying to make sense out of a situation that could potentially turn into a disaster. I can’t let that happen.
Suddenly, Ashley’s phone rings. She reaches into her purse, pulls it out and checks the caller i.d. “Speak of the devil,” she says. “It’s my brother.”
My head snaps over and I stiffen.
“I’ll call him back later,” she says and silences the ringer. I release a breath when she drops the phone back in her purse.
Her perceptive gaze studies me for a long moment. “Are you sure you’re alright?” she asks again.
“When I’m with you, everything is perfect,” I assure her, and reach for he
r hand. I lift it up and brush a kiss along its back.
The flight back to San Francisco is smooth and uneventful. Physically, anyway. Emotionally, my mind is in turmoil.
Ashley and I curl up on the couch in the jet, exhausted from our adventure and being up all night, and cuddle together while a movie plays. I don’t think either of us really watches it. We just soak up each other’s warmth and revel in this newfound bond.
A part of me doesn’t feel right, though. When she told me her brother’s name, I didn’t want to think too hard about it, but that’s not me. I want answers and I obsess about things until I figure out the truth. Then, when she revealed he owned a successful tech company, my stomach twisted.
Could her half-brother be James Douglas? The man who I want to destroy? The man who hates my guts and would rather his company go bankrupt than be in my hands?
Shit, I hope not.
I keep telling myself it’s a coincidence. I mean, what are the chances? Slim to none, right?
But, my gut is generally right. And, right now, my gut believes James Douglas is Ashley’s brother.
Fuck me. What would that mean? For us? Our future?
You have no future with Ashley after James tells her what an asshole you are.
My heart clenches and the idea of Ashley not being in my life is more than I can bear. It’s not even an option. I will fight to the death for her.
Okay, what are my options exactly? I think. The business side of me immediately takes over. I examine things from every angle and run through each possible course of action and scenario.
I could lie and deny everything. I could pay her brother to keep quiet. I could pay someone to force her brother to keep quiet. I could pull out of the takeover.
I didn’t care for any of these options. My normally calm, analytical mind whirls and goes into panic mode.
This is exactly what James Douglas is waiting for-- a way to hurt me. A way to cut me to the quick. The moment he finds out that I care for Ashley, he is going to do everything in his power to poison her mind against me. She loves and respects him. Her loyalties lie with her family. She said as much.