In Love After Office Hours (Wrong For You series Boxsets #7)

Twenty-Two

T HE FIRST TIME AMELIA came to him, she had literally set fire to his library, sobbing hysterically as she told him that looking at all those books made her feel stupid. That it was like he himself had made her want to feel stupid.

The last time she came to him, she had thrashed his study, shredding contracts that had nearly cost him millions of dollars.

And that had been, what, seven or eight months ago?

Even now, Acheron's mind instinctively sought to distance itself from the memories, and all he could remember was the tears running down her pale face and the stark emptiness that kept growing and growing inside of him.

It had made no fucking sense to him then, and it still didn't. Amelia had known what she was doing, had fucking known she could have cost him his entire business, and yet she had still fucking gone ahead and dumped all the contracts into the shredder.

Why the fuck are you doing this? WHY?

He had never yelled at her before, but at that time, it had been just too fucking much. That time, the tears that used to destroy him had only left him cold.

Please don't shout at me. Please, Acheron, please, don't be like this, please.

He had once thought that he could never be like Anthony, the pedophile that had been so obsessed with thirteen-year-old Amelia that he had made her his mistress. Anthony liked making Amelia beg to keep her under his power, and as the years had progressed, Anthony had made sure they always had an audience for it.

Beg or...

The threats varied, but they had one common denominator. They had all targeted Amelia's soft heart for the underdogs, and Anthony had known it.

And because Acheron had been one of those underdogs, Amelia had begged for him, too.

She had gone on her knees for him, more times than he could count, and while he had always strove to make it up to her, what she had done at his study had been the last straw, and Acheron had lost it.

Is it your turn now? You want me on my knees? Because that's what it looks like. You want me to be your bitch the way—-

She had slapped him, and it hadn't made a difference.

Anthony made you his bitch?

She had slapped him again and again, begging him to take the words back, but he had not.

And that was the last time they had seen each other...until now.

A heavy, numbing sensation filled Acheron's chest as he entered Amelia's room and saw what she had made of it. What could be torn had been ripped into shreds, what could be overturned had been overturned. Paintings that had once hung on the wall, curtains that had once covered the windows, and the expensive tea set that used to grace the console - all of it was on the floor now.

Broken bits and pieces everywhere, but not all of them were tangible.

Each time, the strokes of her madness were different, but they all painted the same devastating mess.

"Acheron."

She had finally noticed him, and his chest tightened as she came flying to him. He wrapped his arms about her, knowing to do anything else would kill her, and his chest tightened even more.

The silky feel of her hair, the paleness of her skin, and even the sound of her sobs - all of it were terribly, hurtfully familiar.

But there were also things that had changed.

She used to carry the scent of strawberries all the time, but now she smelled of sweat. She had always been the type to take pride in her appearance, but now she looked all dried up, her thinness dangerously beyond what was fashionable.

The changes did not disgust him at all, but it did make him sad.

This was not the Amelia he remembered, and it was for this reason that he could not and would not leave her.

"I only wanted a little," she whispered against his shirt.

"I know."

"Wickham wouldn't give me any."

"I'd fire him if he had."

"Yeah. You would." Her head slowly lifted, and there was fear in her eyes as she gazed up at him. "I couldn't help it. I just got so...angry." Her lip started trembling anew. "I picked the lock to your study."

Ah.

He had a dossier on Pippi on his desk, and Amelia would've been too curious not to leaf through it.

"I suppose that's how you learned about Pippi."

Amelia could feel herself turning pale. Acheron didn't do nicknames. He had never called her 'Amy', not even when they were alone. And yet he called the other girl Pippi.

Desperation filled her. She had always known that the day would come that she would lose him, but now that it finally happened, it was so much worse than she feared. Socialites and heiresses were no threat to her. They would always be too shallow for Acheron. But a do-gooder like Pippilotta Jones?

"That girl..." It was a challenge to speak in a level voice when she was so tempted to cry. "She was the one who helped me that day. Wasn't she?"

A clipped nod, but if Acheron thought that wasn't going to reveal anything, he was sadly mistaken. She knew him well, after all, and that one nod said everything. He might not have realized it yet, but that girl already owned his heart.

"You care for her."

"Amelia—-"

"Don't bother lying." Her voice shook. " I know , just by looking at you." Her lips curved in a smile that didn't reach her eyes, and the sight damn near broke his heart.

You made this happen, he wanted to snarl. You kept pushing me away. You did everything to drive me away. So stop fucking looking at me like I betrayed you.

"It doesn't have to change anything," he said curtly. "She knows you're here, and she's okay with it."

"I'm glad." But it was a lie. Even knowing that she owed him so much that the least she could do was be happy for him, she just couldn't do it. After everything they had gone through, they were supposed to be together. They were destined to be with each other. Why couldn't he see that? Why?

Acheron started talking to her about doctors and rehabilitation programs, and Amelia pretended to listen even as more and more insidious thoughts filled her mind. There was no question about Ms. Jones being a nice girl, but that was exactly the reason why she would never be a good fit for Acheron.

Acheron stayed with her for the rest of the day, leaving only when they had finished having dinner in her room and she had already showered and tucked herself into bed. Just as he was about to reach for the door, she made her move, whispering his name in a frail voice.

She saw concern flicker in his gaze as he turned to her, and her heart swelled with hope. I knew it. That girl had only temporarily turned his head, but in the end, no woman could ever come between them.

"Pippi...she's a nice girl, isn't she?"

Acheron slowly nodded.

"You were a nice boy once, too." She turned to her side as she pulled the covers up to her chin. "And look what I turned you into." Amelia let her eyes slowly drift close, and her voice deliberately took on a sleepy tone as she mumbled, "Don't make the same mistakes I did."

He didn't answer, but the sound of his sharply drawn breath was all she needed.

Her words had taken root, and if everything fell into place, he would realize the truth.

Men like him would only ruin nice girls like Pippi.

****

B ACK IN ISLA DE FLORES , the grandfather clock in the living room chimed out a heavy, melancholic tune. It was one of the few Jones heirlooms the family had left, and growing up, Pippi had always been just a little fearful of it. At ten foot tall and made of heavy oak, the clock had seemed like an ominously omniscient figure, one that seemed to portend bad tidings every time its hand struck twelve.

But that was then, and this was now. She was no longer a child but a grown-up woman of twenty-three years. She should know better already, and yet a part of her wanted to cry the moment she heard the clock's haunting melody play in the air.

One o'clock, Pippi thought.

And he still wasn't home.