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THREE

AIDEN

“She was colorful,” Jill says.

Technically, she isn’t wrong. Lennox is as bright as a rainbow, even without the pink hair, pink lips, and the pink dress that hugged her curves perfectly. But Jill’s snarky tone belies the sentiment.

It’s a dig. A slight.

My blood heats, and anger clouds my vision. For three years, I’ve swept nearly every negative comment this woman has made under the rug, whether she was talking about my teammates, my brothers, or other women. But I can’t when it comes to Lennox.

“We used to date,” I say as I hold the door open and follow her to the elevators.

“Excuse me?” She sneers, her lips curled in a way that matches her ugly personality. “You barely acknowledged her when she walked in.”

Smiling, I shake my head. “I was speechless. She’s always done that to me. Steals the words right along with my breath.”

The elevator opens, and I step in. When I turn, ready to push the button for the ground floor, Jill is still standing in the hall, her mouth wide open. How the hell did it take me this long to realize I couldn’t go through with marrying her? To see how vapid she really is? There’s not a thing I like about her. Not one.

Fuck, that’s depressing.

I hold the elevator open, but when she doesn’t step in, I grab her hand and tug her through the open door. “We should go somewhere to talk.”

Jill smooths her hands down her black dress and runs her tongue over her teeth. “Right. We’ve got wedding plans to discuss.”

I choke on a laugh. “I just told you my ex stole my breath away, and you think we’re going to talk about a wedding?”

“Our wedding,” she chides, lifting her chin and narrowing her eyes on me in challenge.

“No, Jill. Maybe it was your wedding, but nothing about this was ever ours.”

I watch the numbers above the door change as the elevator descends, and with each floor we pass, I feel lighter. Like when I step out of this stainless-steel box, I’ll finally have the strength to walk away from this woman, this relationship. To step into the damn sun.

I turn to her and give her a genuinely remorseful frown. “I’m sorry, Jill. This isn’t working for me anymore. The wedding is off.”

As the door slides open and sunlight from outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the lobby hit me, my entire body relaxes. The pressure that’s engulfed me, tightening like a boa constrictor, killing me slowly, vanishes, and I’m ready to step forward.

Until Jill hits the emergency button, and the door slides shut.

My heart lurches as the warmth of the sun is extinguished. “What the hell?”

“You’re done?” she screeches, clutching my shoulder and pulling me back. “What the hell does that even mean?”

Tensing, I spin and take her in. She’s pretty on the outside, there is no denying that, but she’s an ugly person on the inside. And the sneer she’s aiming my way is proof of all the awful things my brothers and friends have been pointing out for years. Dammit. I’ve wasted so much time. Mine and hers.

I take a deep breath, ready to apologize. We were engaged—technically maybe still are?—and she deserves an explanation.

“Years ago, I fell in love with the woman you just met. I gave her my entire heart, and I never got it back. It was selfish of me to think I could give you something I no longer own. You deserve a partner who will make you happy and will feel the way I did for Lennox.”

Her expression morphs into one of disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me? We’ve been dating for three years, and you just—” She throws her hands up in the air with a huff. “What? One look at her, and you’re done? She’s fucking pink, Aiden. Pink . You think your family hates me?” Hands on her hips, she tilts her head and lets out a condescending scoff. “I can’t imagine your father’s reaction to that oversized pink pig upstairs.”

A red cloud of rage edges into my line of sight. I’ve never wanted to hit a woman—never even considered it—until this very moment. I squeeze my fists at my sides. “That woman upstairs has more class in one pink fingernail than you have had in your entire existence. And not that it matters, because it’s the thing I find least interesting about her—but she’s a Kennedy—as in Kennedy records, Kennedy properties, Kennedy diamonds…”

Her beady eyes grow wider with each word, and her mouth drops open.

A sick sense of satisfaction hits me. “You catch my drift, I see. My family would love it if I ended up with her, but not because of her last name. They’d be thrilled because the only time in my life that I was ever truly happy was when that woman was smiling at me.”

Her jaw goes rigid and her nostrils flare. Then a loud ha echoes off the stainless-steel walls. “I did not waste three years dating you for this.” She points from herself to me with one sharp nail. “You think I’m in love with you? Please. You are a fucking puppy seeking the crumbs your brothers throw at you. They don’t care about you. That woman upstairs doesn’t care about you.” She points at the ceiling. “And I never cared either. You were a mark.” The smile that stretches across her face is cruel. “An easy one, at that. I’ve been dating Vincent Lukov for years. But he doesn’t make the kind of money you do. So we made a little plan. I’d go after one of the Langfield boys to secure the lifestyle we need. Honestly, I wanted Gavin, but Vin worried I’d actually fall for him since he’s got big dick energy, and let’s be honest”—her eyes drop to my crotch and she scoffs—“you don’t.”

Throwing my head back, I roar with laughter. Fuck, it’s amazing to not feel guilty anymore. Vincent Lukov is a scab of a man. A winger for New York and the nephew to my old coach—a man who used to be my uncle until my aunt found out he’d been cheating on her for years. The entire Lukov family sucks and the best thing to come out of my aunt’s divorce was the fact that Vincent is no longer family.

“That why you needed a monthly break from my dick? Honestly, thank you.” I press my palms together and bend slightly. “The less time my prized jewel spent near your slutty, scheming self, the better. Good luck with Lukov. Without the money you figured you’d take me for in our divorce, it’ll be just you and him and his mediocre salary. But don’t you think it’s odd, Jill, that the man you think cares so much for you was willing to barter you? I’d never let a woman I love be touched by another man, let alone encourage it.” I lean in close. “But you? I don’t feel a damn thing for. So have fun.”

I hit the button to release the emergency stop, and as the elevator door jolts open, I stalk out, my head held high and a smile on my face. I just lost 150 pounds and three years’ worth of pent-up anxiety.

Life is only going to get better from here.