“I protected my interests,” I say, dismissing a personal side to this that creates an obligation to me she does not possess.
“And mine,” she replies glibly. “He’s my client, too.”
“He’s your brother.”
“And your friend.”
My cellphone chooses that moment to ring, and the idea that this might be the detective working on Allison’s case has me tuning out Bella’s relentless attempt to humanize me and reaching for my phone. I grimace as I find my mother’s number on the caller ID, clamping down on the emotional spike that declares me human after all, I push to my feet. “I need to take this.” I don’t look at Bella.
I walk a few feet to the patio door and step outside again, the rain pitter-pattering, with no sign of easing. “Mother,” I greet, at this point using my earbuds.
“You aren’t going to show up, are you?”
“I cannot, in good conscience, go to an event meant to honor that man.”
She’s silent a beat that stretches into two. “Good. Because I’m not going, either. You were right. The memorial was foolish. It only serves to paint me as stupid all over again.” There’s a hitch to her voice that bloodies my heart all over again.
I lean on the table as if it might just hold the burden of life beating down on me and her right now, and offer some form of relief. “You aren’t stupid, Mother. You were a wife who loved her husband.”
“I was a wife who stayed too long. Stop trying to give me an excuse for being foolish. It serves no purpose.”
No good purpose, I think, before I say, “A friend brought me ice cream and lots of it. Apparently, it’s supposed to lift one’s spirits. Why don’t you come over?”
“Thank you, son, but I’m actually headed to the airport. A client of mine has been hitting on me for years. I turned him down, of course, but I was flattered. I called him before I called you. He offered to take me to Europe to escape the press. I said yes.”
Two years ago, my mother left the firm to start an investment firm, in which many of our clients are now involved. The idea that I know this man isn’t hard to assume. Protectiveness bristles. “Who’s this client?”
“No one you know,” she says. “And he can’t be worse than your father. I’ll call you tomorrow once I’m settled in. Take care of yourself, Tyler. And forget living in your father’s shadow.”
“Easier said than done,” I remind her, not that she needs to be reminded. The press is doing a beautiful job of that for us all.
“That’s why I left the firm to start my own business,” she replies. “To step out from under his dominant presence. But now he’s gone. And I’ve moved on. You’re acting CEO but the ‘acting’ title is a mere formality. I have no idea why your father delayed the reading of his will for sixty days, but it doesn’t matter. That firm is yours. Act like it and you will not fail.” She disconnects.
I let the phone disconnect and stand there, watching the rain pitter-patter and bounce off the concrete of the patio wall. If only the impact of my father’s actions were as easy to deflect.
“Tyler.”
At the sound of Bella’s voice, I rotate to face her. She’s standing there in her hosed feet, the light casting her in a glow, her hair messed up, and I didn’t even help get the job done.
“Everything okay?” she asks, tentatively.
I stand there, mentally planting my feet in the ground when they want to move toward her, aware of her in ways that are not safe for her or me. The curve of her breasts against her fitted bodice. The curve of her hips in the slender cut of the dress.
“It was my mother,” I say. “She called off the memorial. She’s going to Europe with another man. I think she’s looking for an escape.”
Her lips part and then press together before she says, “Yes. I can see how an escape might feel necessary.”
Despite logic and good sense, I step toward her, and as I draw nearer, she doesn’t back away.
Chapter Three
Tyler
I halt close to her, near enough that I could reach out and touch her. The jasmine scent of perfume flares in my nostrils and mixes with the earthy scent of nature and rain. The results are sultry and erotic, stirring a heaviness in my body that as logic serves is trouble, is dangerous, but I’m not feeling logical at all. My cock, now pressing uncomfortably against my zipper, is not one little bit logical.
“Yes,” I say softly, my gaze tracing the plump fullness of her bottom lip. I crave a taste of her, just one taste. Just one lick. But I’m not foolish enough to believe it would be one and done. I’d want more. I’d take more, everything she’d let me take. And I’d kiss far more than her mouth. I also know we’d be changed forever, and I’d be repeating a mistake that left more than one person dead. Still, I don’t move away, I simply add, “I do believe I can understand an escape could be necessary, too.”
I’m no longer talking about my mother’s jaunt across the world with a client. I’m talking about me and Bella right now.
And when her chin lifts and her eyes collide with mine, there is an undeniable punch between us, the air thick with lust. She lifts her hand as if she means to touch me, but pauses mid-air, seems to reconsider, and allows her arm to lower. “I’m not sure there’s anything wrong with that.”
And yet, right here and now, escape, at least the kind I crave, is a problem. It is wrong. “Bella,” I say softly, and it is both a call to her to come to me and a plea for her to walk away.
She never gets the chance. My cellphone rings again. I grimace and reach for it, only to find Dash Black on the caller ID. “It’s your brother,” I say.
Her chest lifts with a heavy breath, her eyes meeting mine again, and the discomfort of the moment is palpable. She laughs a choked laugh. “Of course, it is. I’m not here,” she says softly. “Okay?”
Because Dash wouldn’t approve, now more than ever, I suspect. I know it. The fact that she knows it says to me they’ve had conversations about me. I know this, too, but I still don’t like it. “As you wish, Bella,” I reply, my voice soft, but there’s nothing about anything I feel right now that is as gentle as my words.
I answer the call. “Dash,” I greet tightly.
“Are you going to the memorial?” he asks, and I don’t doubt his concern. He might not want me fucking around with his sister, but we do have a friendship I wouldn’t call it tenuous as much as I would strained.
“My mother called it off.”
He expels a sigh that reads like relief. “I can’t believe she thought that was a good idea. You need company? I can head over.”
Bella’s eyes collide with mine, panic in their depths, an indicator to me that she can hear the conversation. “I’m better off alone tonight,” I say tightly. “I know you get that. I know you know why that feels necessary.”
I’m selling the moment to Dash, ensuring he stays away, but the words seem to punch at Bella, and she physically steps backward. She’s read a message into the words only meant to drive Dash away. She rotates and disappears inside my apartment, and I find the idea of her leaving stirs an odd mix of resistance and relief in me. Her brother has now soundly inserted himself between us and he doesn’t even know. He should be the one feeling relief, not me. He has the joy of sweet ignorance while I do not.