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I’ve seen Amelia at work, of course, and I haven’t fallen back into being the borderline abusive ass I was—but I’m also keeping my distance. For both our sakes. It hasn’t been easy, but it’s necessary.
“Everything okay with work?” I ask him, seeing the signs of worry on his face. They’re subtle, but I know him well enough to spot them.
“Yeah, all good. Some shit going on with the Ryans that I need to deal with tomorrow.”
“Shit with the Ryans” can range between sorting out a parking fine to explaining why a trash bag full of body parts was found in a dumpster behind one of their nightclubs. Like the Morettis in Chicago, they’re basically good men and have their own code of ethics. But that code doesn’t always perfectly align with law and order’s code of ethics.
“Anything I can help with?” I ask. His specialty is criminal law, and they often need him for that, but I bring more to the table when it comes to business contracts, civil cases, and the myriad of lawsuits that tend to spring up whenever money is involved.
“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll let you know if I do. I was just speaking to Helen, getting her to sort out some meetings.”
“Dude, it’s nine o’clock on a Friday night. I know that means nothing to us, but she’s got a life.”
“No she doesn’t. She lives for her job, just like you. She loves it when I make her feel useful.”
Helen is a widow with three grown daughters, and it saddens me that she’s home alone on a Friday night, working. Is that what my future holds too? I shake off the unease and focus on my brother once more.
“Anyway,” he says, toying with a small round dessert I’ve been informed is a papitas de leche. “She tells me your girl is out on a date tonight. How are you feeling about that?”
“What do you meanmy girl?” I feel a muscle in my jaw twitch and try to hide it. “And what do you meana date?”
He tilts his head and smirks. “Well, by your girl, I was sarcastically referring to your assistant, Amelia. And by date, I mean a social arrangement usually made between two people who find each other sexually attractive. It often involves food, alcohol, and conversation.”
“Right. And who is she on a date with? And where?”
“You’re not mad, are you?” He frowns. “You’re not going to do something macho and stupid, right? Because you told me it was over between you two.”
“It is over, and I’ve never done anything macho and stupid in my entire life. I’m merely curious.”
He tells me the name of the guy she’s dating and mentions the place he’s taken her. Apparently it’s the talk of the secretarial pool, and they’re all thrilled for her. Which is, you know, nice of them.
I carry on making small talk with Nathan for a little while longer, somehow managing to appear completely normal. Inside, I am like a fucking volcano waiting to erupt. I have no idea why. When I got back to my hotel last Friday night, I poured myself a Scotch and spent two hours stalking Amelia online. She isn’t one of those people who lives her life on social media, thank god, but she does have a Facebook page which is woefully poor on the privacy-settings front. I should probably have a word with her about it, but the stuff she posts is harmless enough. Plus, then I’d have to explain why I was looking at her online presence in the first place. And if she tightens up those privacy settings, I won’t be able to stalk her. Yeah. That all sounds totally aboveboard and reasonable. If you’re a psycho.
I even put her ex-husband’s name into google. Chad. The name of a dick if ever I heard one. Has the face of a dick too. He was much easier to find; there are pictures of him all over the website for his start-up investment firm. I can admit he’s good-looking, in that slightly over-the-top way that some guys get as they age. Blinding white teeth, skin too tan, blond hair. Frankly I wouldn’t even buy a used car from the guy, never mind invest with him.
I scrolled away from Chad, officially the biggest idiot in the universe for letting a woman like Amelia get away from him, and headed back to her Facebook. For the millionth time, I flickedthrough her photos and found one from our company retreat. Specifically a selfie, taken at that weird angle where her arm is stretched out in front and above her, showing a big group of people at the hotel bar. She had a big grin on her face, her hair wild and her eyes not much better, and she’d clearly had a lot to drink. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to drive over there and take her to fucking bed—I mean put her to bed, obviously.
So yeah, I’m painfully aware that she’s gorgeous and that other men are going to want her. Logically, I don’t even mind—why wouldn’t I want her to be happy? Why wouldn’t I want her to meet someone great? Why wouldn’t I want her to have screaming orgasms with someother fucking guy?
I tell Nathan I’m going to rejoin our father and brothers in the dining room. I’m not doing that, of course.
I’m about to do something macho and stupid.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
AMELIA
Iforce a laugh, hoping he doesn’t notice that I’m faking it. It’s not that Jacob isn’t funny or that he’s not a great guy. He’s just not Drake James, which really isn’t his fault.
“So how are you liking New York?” he asks as he tops up our wine glasses.
“Well, I was born and raised here,” I remind him. I told him only last week that I’d moved back here from Philly to be closer to my mom.
He coughs awkwardly. “Of course. I remember you mentioning that now. I’m sorry. I’m not usually so forgetful. But damn.” He uses a napkin to mop his brow. “First dates make me nervous as hell. Especially with someone like you.”
That makes me laugh for real. “Someone like me?”