Текст книги "Tangled Bond"

Автор книги: Emma Hart

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

I don’t even want this investigation anymore.

It doesn’t take me long to drive from Drake’s to mine, and I’m not at all surprised when he pulls in behind me before I’ve even unlocked my front door.

I gather the mail from the mat, throw it on the side table, and hit the switch on my alarm. There’s no point closing the door. He can do that. He’ll do what he wants anyway.

I close my bedroom door and lean back against it, closing my eyes. This is why I don’t want this investigation. I don’t want the two sides of my life to mix together. It’s too hard. I can’t keeping tugging the personal stuff into the professional stuff, because that’s where it goes wrong.

All of it.

I pull a black blouse and a red pencil skirt from my closet. I’m so muddled up inside about everything that I need to at least look like I have my shit together. Besides, if I’m dressed well, I’ll feel better.

I pull my favorite Louboutins from my shoe rack.

Give a woman the right pair of shoes and not only will she conquer the world, but she’ll run it.

And, today, I need to run my little world.

I change, brush my hair out and over one shoulder, and go into the bathroom. Foundation, blush, mascara, red lipstick. And, finally, my shoes.

I slip my feet into them before I join Drake downstairs. There are two mugs of coffee sitting on the table, and I grab the one closest to me.

His eyes are hot on me as he leans against the side of the table. “You wanna tell me what your disappearing act was about yesterday?”

“I was apparently in your way. By the way, did Tim give a cause of death yet?”

“Asphyxiation. Fibers matching the pillow were found on and around his mouth.”

“You’re welcome,” I snap.

He almost looks ashamed.

“Now, how about you tell me what your diva act was about? The manager?”

“Oh, the guy who tried to hit on you in the middle of a sex club? In a place where he insinuated several other men would like to take you to a private room to do things to your body that you know nothing about? In a place you were clearly incredibly uncomfortable to be in?”

Now, it’s my turn to feel a little ashamed.

“Yeah.” Drake puts his mug down, his eyes filled with a mild annoyance. “We’re both fools, Noelle.”

I take a deep breath and look down at my hands clasped around the mug. “I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I just…”

“You’re not used to anyone other than your brothers stepping up and protecting you.”

I hate it when he’s right. Really, really hate it.

He closes the slight distance between us and gently takes my hands from the mug. “Hey.” He touches his fingers to my chin and lifts it, making me look at him. “I get it. I already told you I don’t want someone who needs saving. But saving and protecting are two vastly different things, cupcake. I don’t care if you need protecting from a killer or some sleazeball hitting on you because he’s loaded and wears fancy suits. I’m gonna protect you, whether you like it or not. I’m not afraid to stake my claim where dicks like him are concerned. One-up me on solving murders every day of the week, but don’t be mad at me for doing what feels right. Nothing matters more to me than protecting you, bella.”

Of all the things he calls me, I’ll never let him know how much bella affects me. Because just about every time he says it, I stop breathing. It’s always at that moment when my heart is already pounding.

“I know.” I raise an eyebrow. “I’m not apologizing again though.”

“I’m surprised you said sorry once.”

I purse my lips at his wide grin. “It won’t happen again.”

“I didn’t think it would.” His eyes spark in amusement. “I’m sorry too, but I can’t help it if your badass gene pisses off my alpha complex.”

“My badass gene is laughing at you.”

“My alpha complex wants to smack your ass.”

I grab my purse, put it over my butt, and walk backward. “Nope. That’s not how we’re starting today.”

“You’re right.” He stalks toward me with a lusty glint in his eye. “We’re gonna start it like this instead.”

He slams me back against my front door and I drop my purse. He dives his hands into my hair and seals his lips over mine. Fireworks erupt across my skin as I curl my fingers around his neck.

He devours me, plain and simple.

“Now,” he breathes, smiling. “Now, we’re gonna go and get some work done.”

I flick my thumb across his bottom lip, wiping away the smudge of my lipstick. “Now, we are.”

He raises his eyebrows, bends for my purse, and pulls me away from the door. I set the alarm, and after we walk out, I take my keys from him and lock the door.

His phone rings, and he hands me my purse so he can answer it. “Detective Nash… What? ... With what? And the mayor? It’s too fucking early for that… She’s gonna flip… Yeah, all right.”

“Who’s gonna flip? Me?”

Is it bad that I always assume “she” is me when in that sentence?

“You’re gonna get very passionate. The mayor is at the station with his new campaign manager.”

“Excellent.”

“And Nonna is there. With her wedding scrapbook.”

I stop at my car, my fingers freezing over the handle. “With her what?”

No. No, she isn’t. It better be for Devin to look at.

“Her Noelle wedding scrapbook.” Drake looks like he doesn’t know whether to be confused or laugh his ass off.

I cover my eyes with my hand. “We need to get there before she sets us a date or I’ll have florists calling me within the hour.”

He gets into his car, his laughter winning out, and I get into mine. I quickly check my lips in the mirror and reverse, digging for my lipstick. I uncap it and touch it up as I drive. Drake flashes his lights at me, and I stick my middle finger up at him. It’s his fault anyway.

A good thing about a small town is the lack of traffic. Traffic means three cars at a red light. Unfortunately, every light we come to is red and there are almost always three cars in front of Drake’s. Which means our drive to the station is three times longer than normal and Nonna is likely recruiting bridesmaids.

I pull up next to his car in the parking lot, and he glances at me as we get out.

“I should give you a ticket for doing your makeup while driving.”

“I’m disputing on the grounds that you are the reason it needed doing.” I walk past him, throwing him a sassy grin.

It earns me a slap on the ass.

Eh, it was worth it.

“Noella!” Nonna cries. “You-a see-a this-a dress!”

“Is it white?” I ask, pausing by the reception desk.

Charlotte, the receptionist, nods frantically.

“Not interested, Nonna. Sorry.”

“You show-a Drake?”

“I really don’t think Drake has any interest in your wedding scrapbook for a wedding that isn’t happening.”

“I’d love to tell you she meant to bring mine, but she didn’t,” Dev adds, leaning against the desk. “She’s on a warpath with you now. She wants a ring on your finger.”

“Not happening.” I look at Drake. “No offense.”

He laughs. “I’m with you. Trust me.”

Nonna gasps, holding the book to her chest. “You-a have-a no idea what-a you-a saying!”

“Okay, Nonna. I love you, but I know exactly what I’m saying, and so does Drake. Can we come back to this if I ever actually get married? Because we have work to do.” I grab Drake’s arm and tug him toward the back of the station.

“This way,” he says, taking my arm instead and leading me up the stairs to the briefing room. “She’s crazy, isn’t she?”

“I want to say ‘in the best kind of way,’ but right now, I’m not so sure.” I shrug. “She wants us all to be happy. She has a hard time remembering that we make our own happiness and that her…enthusiasm…is scary.”

“No fucking kidding,” he mutters, pushing the door open.

Trent looks at me with wide eyes. Ones that tell me that I should be running right now. I frown at him, and he drops his eyes to Jessica. Yeah, well, she already hates me, so whatever.

“Ah, Detective Nash, Ms. Bond,” Sheriff Bates greets us. “Nice of you to join us.”

“I was dealing with Nonna.” I grimace.

His eyes twinkle. “Thank you for your sacrifice,” he jokes. “Ms. Bond, I understand you and Ms. Shearer have met previously.” He turns to Drake. “Detective Nash, this is—”

“We’ve met,” Drake replies curtly.

A sly grin spreads across Jessica’s face, and she gets up, smoothing her skirt across her thighs as she approaches him. Then she reaches up and kisses his cheek. “Hello, darling. How are you?”

My eyebrows shoot up.

“Jess.” Drake’s voice is still hard as he rubs her kiss from his cheek. “I’m well. And you?”

“Far better for learning I’ll be liaising with you on this unfortunate matter.” Her smile is far too bright for someone referring to an “unfortunate matter.”

Trent’s eyes are now warning me to shut up. Brody looks like he’s ready to see me hit her.

I’m hovering somewhere in the middle.

“Well, that’s easier for everyone,” Sheriff Bates interrupts optimistically. “Let’s all take a seat so we can get to work.”

“Move,” Drake hisses, nudging me in the back.

I resist the urge to knock his hand away from me. Hello, darling? Hello, fucking darling?

“Later,” Trent warns me on a whisper. “Work,” he reminds me.

I nod and sit down, all too aware of Jessica staring at both Drake and me. Behave, Noelle. Like Trent said, you’re at work. You can hit her at recess.

Wait. I think that rule only applies in kindergarten. That’s a shame.

Ugh. What is wrong with me?

“…so whoever was in the room with Vince Fulton yesterday evening was breaking the rules about practicing erotic asphyxiation within the boundaries of the club. This has led Mr. Lawrence to close the club for three days at extreme cost to himself, as he’s unwilling for another accident to happen, in his words.” Sheriff Bates pauses, glancing over all of us. “The connection Vince has to Natalie is undeniable. Given the latest findings”—he nods to me with a grateful smile—“I’m going to throw out the hypothesis that Vince was murdered by Natalie’s killer because of information he possessed. With this in mind, we’re offering her ex-boyfriend extra protection, and while the rest of us are here piecing things together and searching their houses, Ms. Bond, I’d like you to use your charm on Mr. Lucas and see what Vince might have known that could get him killed.”

Brody snorts when he says “charm.”

“Of course,” I agree. “He took a shine to Bek when I saw him last. I’ll take her because my charm is on vacation today.”

Drake breathes in deeply.

Sheriff Bates half smiles. “Ms. Bond, if you have to date the man for a week for that information, you can do what you like. As long as it’s legal.” If you’re in my building, is what he doesn’t say.

“I wouldn’t dream of anything else.” I fight my smirk as Trent snorts. “Y’all gettin’ a cold? Should I get some tissue?” I say to my brothers.

“Let’s move,” Sheriff Bates says before we can waste our time bantering.

I stand and hook my purse over my shoulder.

“Drake,” Jessica says, darting past the mayor as he goes to talk to the sheriff. “I’d really appreciate if we could talk so I’m up to date on every detail and can adequately control the damage this is doing to the mayor’s campaign. Many people think Madison was involved, as she was the one who found her.”

“Sure. Two people have been murdered, but let’s focus on images, shall we?”

“Noelle,” Drake warns. “I can’t talk to you right now, Jess. As Noelle just pointed out, two people have been murdered. It’s my job to find out who did it, not release to you every detail of my case.”

Spin my words, then. I don’t mind.

“Are you sure you can’t spare a minute?” Her bottom lip protrudes slightly.

“Brody can help you,” he offers. “Trent can, too. Ask either of them, but it won’t be today.”

“I’m sure the mayor would prefer my discussion to be with the lead detective.”

“Fine.” He turns to me. “Noelle, are you free?”

“Today? No. I have an elusive ex to find and his behind to charm,” I reply.

“Funny,” Jessica replies. “I was talking about you.”

“I know exactly who you were talkin’ about, and I said no, I’m busy. My whole team is busy. If you can’t work with the information you have right now, then you’re gonna have to wait and explain to the mayor that our priority is solving this case. Now, if you’ll excuse us…” He touches my upper back and guides—see: pushes—me toward the door. He walks through it, holding it open without looking back.

I do though. I throw a glance over my shoulder, and Jessica is looking at me like she’d like to spear me through the belly button with her heel.

I’d offer the same look, but my shoes cost too much.

The tension in Drake is obvious by the way he’s stomping down the stairs, his shoulders drawn back tight. He slams the door at the bottom of the staircase open, and it moves so fast that I have to wait a moment before grabbing it. His office door is open by the time I get there, and I hesitate before walking in.

I have a bad feeling about all of this.

“Drake?”

“Fuckin’ unreal,” he spits, kicking his chair out of his way. It spins and knocks into the wall. “Yet so fuckin’ typical.”

“Who is she?” The words tumble out of me. “She’s hated me since the moment she laid eyes on me, and now, it makes sense. You know her. She knows you. And now, I want to know who she is to you.”

He runs his fingers through his hair, and when he turns to me, his eyes are full of resignation. They’re angry and fiery, but they’re dull, too.

“Jessica,” he grinds out through a clamped jaw, “is my ex-fiancée.”

There’s a stab. Right in my chest. Right in my heart.

“Your…ex-fiancée.” I lick my lips. “Right.”

Oh my God, I can’t breathe.

“I think I need to go.” I spin on my toes and walk through his door.

“Noelle—”

I shake my head and keep walking, ignoring that stab in my heart, ignoring the twist of my stomach, of that fucking empty feeling hollowing its way through my body. I breathe in the fresh air as I open the glass front doors and turn instantly to the parking lot.

I knew it would never be simple.

We could never be easy.

I don’t know what’s more fucked—this murder investigation or us.

“Noelle.”

“No,” I tell him, opening my door. “I need to process this. Like…shit, Drake. Shit.” I get in and shut the door, starting the engine.

Shit.

His ex-fucking-fiancée.

I drive straight past Bek’s house and onto the road that’ll take me to Nick’s tattoo studio.

I don’t know why I’m so bothered. Because he never mentioned her? Because she’s so obnoxious? And hot. God, why are the exes never butt ugly?

I mean, it shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s not like we’ve ever sat down to hash out our relationship history with other people. He’s never asked. I’ve never asked. Hell, it’s not even like our relationship is that kind of serious. It’s not any kind of anything.

It’s just kind of…kinda.

God, two people have died and I’m here bitching to myself about his keeping something from me. But what if she hadn’t have turned up in town? Would he have ever told me? Would we have ever been something?

Would we? No—I mean, will we? Do I? I don’t even know.

Oh my God.

This is so fucking messed up.

Every time. Every damn time we get somewhere, something screws it up. One of us loses our shit or storms off.

Why am I so incapable of being an adult in a relationship? Will it really kill me if he’s been in a relationship so serious that he wanted to marry her?

“Argh!” I punch my steering wheel, braking into a parking spot outside the studio.

The worst part is that she knows exactly who I am. She’ll have heard that Drake and I are dating. Why else would she have walked up to him so strutty and been all “hello, darling” with a damn peck on the cheek?

I’m a woman. I’m ninety-percent of the sass in Holly Woods. She’s playing a game… With me.

I take a deep breath. That’s okay, really. She can play the game. She can hold all the cards, because I’ll be the fucking dice.

I am Noelle Bond, dammit. I am not a weeping, crying mess kind of girl because something shocks her. I’m a grab-it-by-the-balls, squeeze-out-the-explanation, and get-the-hell-on-with-it kind of girl.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

The guy from last time is at the reception counter again, and he smiles when he sees me. “Hey! You’re the chick from the other day.”

“That’s me,” I smile sheepishly. “Is Nick here? I need to talk with him.”

“He’ll be here in five minutes. You want a coffee or something?”

“Oh, no, thank you. Do you mind if I wait?” I motion to the chairs.

“Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you.” I give him another smile and take a seat on the leather couch. Then I set my purse by my feet, and my mind, instead of returning to Jessica and Drake, focuses on Vince Fulton and what connection he could possibly have to Natalie Owens aside from being her dominant once in a while. If he was killed by asphyxiation, is it easy to assume he was the one who practiced on her? Maybe he was practicing autoerotic asphyxiation on himself.

But that doesn’t explain how the pillow got under the bed… And wouldn’t you use a pillow for a murder and a tie for yourself?

Unless he was interrupted before he could remove the pillow from his mouth, and someone else finished him off. He did look like he was holding his penis… Or maybe that was simply a ruse from the murderer in the hope that we’d assume it was an accidental death. They’re ridiculously common in users of it, after all.

All you need to do, in theory, is knock yourself unconscious, and unless you’re found, you’re a goner.

“Well, I didn’t think you’d be the next Bond I saw,” Nick drawls, the door swinging shut behind him. “They haven’t given you cuffs, have they?”

I stand, smirking. “Not today, doll. I was hoping to talk to you.”

He jerks his head toward the room we spoke in the other day and passes Dreads a coffee cup on the way past the desk. I click the door shut behind me and wait as Nick takes a seat on his stool and sips his coffee.

“Vince Fulton.”

“Is a bastard,” he replies. “What about him?”

“He’s dead.”

The shock in his eyes can’t be faked. “Fuck off.”

“He was found last night,” I say quietly.

“The murder at that shithole?”

I nod sharply. “He was Natalie’s most regular Dom, wasn’t he?”

Nick’s lips curve down. “Twice a week she was with him in the end. That’s all I know.”

“You knew a lot about the mayor. You told me that the truth will out. What does that mean?”

“It means the truth will be found out. You don’t strike me as a dim woman, Noelle. Information is there for everyone to find.”

“Where were you last night?”

“Excuse me?”

My lips tug to one side. “Seems to me you have the perfect motive to kill both Natalie and Vince. She broke your heart. He was instrumental to her deceit. A still-unidentified male was found going into her room not long before her time of death. We haven’t examined the tapes from D.O.M. yet, but I’d say you probably had an opportunity then, too.”

“Are you calling me a murderer?”

“No. I’m asking you if you are. After all, your track record is questionable, isn’t it? I mean, you were young, but…”

His face hardens, and his eyes narrow into angry slits. “That was a long time ago. What kind of killer would tell you if they are?”

“Someone who answers instantly with a no instead of questioning my reason for asking.” I smile as the realization washes over his face. “In all seriousness, where were you last night?”

“Here. I was working on a big back piece for some gym buff from Austin. Ask Niall out there.”

Niall? Oh, Dreads. “A copy of your schedule will be fine and a phone number to verify with the gym buff.”

“Niall will get you it.”

“Great. What else do you know about Vince?”

“He knew about her affair with the mayor. Helped her cover it up.”

“How?”

He shrugs. “When I called her out on the baby, Nat lost it, darlin’. She started beggin’ me and promised me she had evidence that could destroy the mayor’s life and his image. She said she’d threaten him with it, make him pay big, have an abortion, then we could move away.”

Hmm. “What kind of evidence? Did she hire someone?”

“She didn’t have the money for that. All of her spare cash went to the club.” He stands. “Look, that’s all I know. If I had the evidence, don’t you think I’d give it to you?”

“Do you think the mayor knows about it?”

“The evidence? Probably. Would he kill for it? Couldn’t tell ya.”

Get that evidence and we’ve probably found ourselves the killer.

I’m going to use that as my hope right now—that it’s that simple. I’m going to ignore that I have no idea what I’m supposed to be looking for when it comes to the evidence or who has it. Or if let’s be honest, it really exists.

God. It’s Harry and the fucking Horcruxes all over again.

Since my mission today is to find out as much about Vince Fulton as I can, I stop by Melanie’s coffee and bookstore. She always has something informative, and I’ve been here way too many times, promising a date with Brody for information.

I think I might actually have to hold up my end of the deal soon.

“I promise,” I say instantly, walking in. “As soon as this case is over.”

“Hmm.” Melanie smiles anyway. “Vince Fulton, right?”

“You know everything.” I smile and sit down.

She holds a strawberry cupcake up, and I sigh with happiness, nodding. A cupcake is exactly what I need. All right, so two cupcakes would be more accurate, but I am trying to curb my intake of them, after all. I’ll buy the second and eat it back at the office.

“He was odd, I think.” Melanie sets the cupcake in front of me on a small plate with a paper napkin and a fork and leans forward. Thankfully, her high-necked shirt is containing the goods, or I’d have a boob cupcake. She has, after all, won every wet T-shirt competition in Holly Woods since she was fourteen, and she doesn’t even enter half the time. “No, not odd. Quiet. He mostly kept to himself, but he came either here or Rosie’s once a week for coffee for his whole team on a Friday. It depended which of us were closer—and one week, when he was building on the other side of Austin, he sent us both gift cards to apologize.”

“Wow. Did you know he used D.O.M.?”

“Oh, yeah. Everyone knew that. He wasn’t shy. I think he tried to work as an escort, but no one really tickled his whip, if you know what I mean.”

Am I the only person who didn’t know that D.O.M. is a sex club?

“And Natalie Owens?” I ask.

“By all accounts,” Melanie says slowly, a coy smile creeping onto her lips, “Natalie Owens was his favorite little play thing. Rumor has it her hard limit was a hard limit.”

“What’s a hard limit?”

“The things you won’t do. Like your hard limit would be giving up cupcakes.”

I grin.

“Vince was apparently a total sadist, but so was Natalie. Even at the expense of their relationships. A few of the guys who use the club are perfectly respectable businessmen, but there were more than a few whispers in here about them plotting something. Something to do with money then running away and leaving Holly Woods.”

“They’re a fucking romance novel, those two, huh?”

“Only if Shakespeare is the author, given the ending.” Melanie chortles. “I don’t know what was going on. Natalie was an amateur photographer when she wasn’t messing around doing design work for the mayor. That’s about all I can give you.”

I put the last of the cupcake into my mouth and screw up the wrapper before dropping it back onto the plate. “Thanks, Mel.” I put a ten down on the counter. “Can I get a raspberry one to go?”

“There’s the Noelle I know and love.” She winks, laughing, and turns away. “Hey, have you met the mayor’s new campaign manager?”

“Oh, yeah. We’re best friends.”

She throws a smirk over her shoulder. “She’s a bitch—and a mean one at that. Told me she’s making sure every business has a flyer for the mayor in their window.”

“I’ll expect her visit.”

“Please do. And tell her not to drop anymore around here. They didn’t agree with my paper shredder.” Mel hands me the cupcake in a small, cute, blue box tied with a silver box. “Try not to sugar overdose, okay?”

“Sugar is my oxygen,” I reply, getting up and backing out of the store. “Thanks, Mel!”

“Anytime, doll.” She waves and turns to someone bringing a book to the register.

Back to the office it is.

“She’s still alive!” Mike laughs, leaning against Grecia’s doorframe with a mug of coffee in his hands.

“Alive and kicking and screaming.” I throw one arm in the air and pose. “Is everyone here? While I’m here, we may as well have a meeting.”

“Nope,” he answers. “Dean is out and I’m about to go find out if Finn Hilton’s girlfriend is doing the dirty before he hands her a two-carat diamond ring.”

“Nice. To the ring, not the doing the dirty. Is that still hot?” I point to the mug, and upon seeing it full and steaming, I extract it from his grip and sip. “Ew. Too much sugar.”

“Did you just say, ‘Too much sugar’?” Carlton asks. “Aren’t you addicted to cupcakes?”

I hide the box behind my back. “What kind of fairytales have y’all been tellin’ him, huh?”

“Every one goin’,” Mike replies. “But he’s so keen on impressin’ his new boss that there are four Gigi’s cupcakes waiting on your desk.”

I narrow my eyes and look at my new kid. “What cupcakes?”

Carlton looks up at the ceiling and ticks them off his fingers. “Triple chocolate torte, lemon, the cookie one, and a champagne one.”

“I’m gonna keep you,” I tell him, pointing at him. “You’re good.” I swear he blushes when I turn to Grecia. “I apologize in advance for my messages.”

She simply smiles, her dark eyes sparkling as she grabs the stack of cards. “Jessica Shearer stopped by around an hour ago. She wants us to put the mayor’s campaign flyer on our window and coffee table. I told her to bring them back when my boss was here because I don’t make those decisions.”

“Did you kick her on the way out?”

“Whoa, tiger,” Mike laughs. “You’ve met?”

“Oh, we’ve met.”

“And she hates her because she’s Drake’s ex,” Bek adds, walking through the door. “Uh-huh. I spoke to Brody after you stormed out of the station after the briefing.”

“I did not storm out,” I protest. “And she’s his ex-fiancée. And that is not why I hate her. I hate her because she’s a smug and obnoxious bitch.”

“Well, that’s all right, then,” Mike snorts.

“Moving on,” Grecia interrupts, a small, teasing smile on her lips. “Drake called. Said not to pass on the message because you already know what he’s going to say.”

We need to talk.

“Yep. Next.”

“Nonna called. Asked if you have Amelia’s number to talk about Devin’s wedding since she clearly isn’t getting anywhere with you.”

“She’s learning.”

“And Trent stopped by. Told me to tell you to, ah”—she hesitates—“that you were absolutely right to walk out of the station this morning because a pissed Drake is a productive Drake.”

“A pissed Noelle is a productive Noelle, too. Did he say if Drake was pissed at me?”

Bek laughs. “According to Brody, Drake personally escorted Jessica out of the building and told her to call ahead next time she wants to come by because she’s detrimental to the investigation.”

Is it bad that I want to whoop with laughter? It is, isn’t it? So bad. But hey, I’m already going to hell, so I may as well go with a bang.

I laugh. Loud. “Okay. I’m gonna go write all of this stuff up, call everyone I need to, and hope Jessica comes back in so I can show her a little bit of Holly Woods hospitality.”

“So, you’re going to wrap her up in toilet paper and throw a water bomb at her head?” Bek questions, an eyebrow raised.

“Do we have either of those things?” Carlton asks, looking a little worried.

“Yeah, do we?” My voice is sadly more hopeful.

“You know, you’re a dreadful excuse for a twenty-eight-year-old businessowner.” Trent steps through. “No need to call me. I wanna talk to you.”

“Can we reschedule? I’m real busy, so…” Again, I hide the cupcake.

He slowly shakes his head, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops.

“Aw, hell. Okay.” I walk to the bottom of the stairs and then turn. “Hey, Carlton. Can you get me Vince Fulton’s life story?”

He shrugs. “No problem.”

“Thanks.” I shoot him a beaming smile, but it drops when I see Trent’s hard look at me.

Okay. Sheesh. I’m going up the stairs, Dad. Fucking hell.

He follows me into my office and kicks the door shut behind him. I have the feeling this isn’t going to be good. Now it could be the tight set of his jaw or the tense way he has his shoulders pulled back, or maybe it’s the way his brow is furrowed over his dark eyes glinting with anger.

“I guess your message to Grecia was a load of shit, huh?”

“Not all of it. Just the last part.”

“So, you’re not here to tell me off for running away?”

He scoffs. “No. You were right to leave. Otherwise, y’all woulda had a blazin’ fight and nothin’ woulda gotten done today.”

And that is, in hindsight, exactly why I left. “So, why are you here looking like you want to ask Mom to ground me for the next week?”

“Because angry Drake is not a fucking nice guy to be around.”

“Hey!” I hold my hands up. “I am not the one who didn’t tell the person he’s seeing about an ex-fucking-fiancée. Or even think to mention it as soon as he saw her. He made me sit there the whole damn time while she was staring at me and I had no idea why she hates me.”

“Did you ever ask him about anyone in his past?”

“No, because that isn’t my place, Trent. That’s something he has to make the decision to share when he’s ready to.”

“Have you told him why you left Dallas?”

“That is completely different!” I clench my hands into fists. “You know why I left Dallas. You know that wasn’t an easy choice. My guilt ripped that choice from me. Don’t you dare throw that in my face, because it has nothing to do with Drake.”

“Because that’s your decision to share it, right?” His eyebrows quirk upward. “Because he’s never asked you about it. Yet you’re pissed because he didn’t tell you about Jessica.”

“At the end of our first date, he walked out.” I perch on the edge of my desk. “When I asked him about the then-stalker case, he clammed up and got pissed about fidelity and stuff. And even when we talked, he didn’t mention it. He’s the one pursuing this, Trent. If he wants this, then he should respect me enough to be honest with me if he has issues about trust and things.”

“You were cheated on.”

“He knows that. But I don’t have trust issues.”

“That’s exactly why you want to punch his ex.”

“Again, I want to punch her because she hated me on sight. Now, I want to shoot her. Big difference.”

“Women. Y’all are fucked up,” he sighs, shaking his head.