Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Case
I’m officially calling it a day.
It’s not even nine p.m., and I’m done. Jet lag is still right on my tail, kicking my ass.
I shove my key into the lock and turn the handle on my apartment door.
Silence greets me.
I exhale because I’m relieved. I was half-expecting Emma Owens to be planted on the couch in the living room watching the huge television her brother bought.
Drake’s a hardcore fan of any and every sport in existence. He can rattle off the stats of every player on any of the teams that are based in New York City.
I admire his commitment to cheer on his heroes.
I don’t have the time to devote to parking my ass anywhere for three hours straight unless I’m actively working.
Glancing to the left, I spot the touch screen on the wall that controls virtually everything in the apartment. There’s another one in the hallway, and a third installed in the main bedroom. The system is the brainchild of Drake.
He had sent me mockups when it was in the development stage. I told him I didn’t want to step into the already overcrowded space, but he was insistent on pursuing it as a personal passion project.
Scratching a brow, I study the screen.
Lights. I only want to turn on the goddamn lights in this room.
The panel is set on a timer, but there has to be a way to override that.
I punch one button, and loud classical music fills the room.
Fuck.
I tap that button to silence it before I push the button next to it.
The blinds that cover the massive windows overlooking Madison Ave open to reveal a breathtaking view of dusk settling over Manhattan.
I ignore that and yell at the damn thing, hoping that Drake followed through with his intention to integrate voice activation into the system. “Lights! Turn on the fucking lights!”
Warm light fills the space.
Shaking my head, I look around.
Everything is exactly as I left it a few hours ago when I headed to the Lower East Side. Cabbott Mobile’s New York office is housed there.
I stopped in this morning to a lukewarm reception from the employees.
When I revisited this afternoon, it was a different story. I garnered a few smiles and greetings from the people who take home a paycheck signed by me.
I don’t know what the hell I was expecting, but I spotted only two familiar faces as I toured the offices. Drake has followed my lead and cleared out the dead weight.
I keep the California office staffed with people who are not only talented but also ambitious. They need to prove daily that they deserve to work side-by-side with me.
I toss my keys and phone on a wooden table in the foyer. It’s not a piece I purchased, but whoever bought it has good taste.
I strip off my suit jacket before I fold it over the back of the gray leather couch that’s been here for as long as I can remember.
Nothing in this apartment resembles the house I live in back in California.
At one time, I thought I’d be happy calling this place home. Now, I feel like I’ve been dumped into the middle of someone else’s life.
I have.
This is Drake’s life, although that’s about to change.
His marriage is the first step toward the future he’s always wanted.
I’m doing what I can to keep him moving in that direction.
I make quick work of the buttons on my shirt before I slide it off and toss it onto the jacket.
My belt is next. With a tug, it’s free and on the couch too.
Just as my hands drop to the zipper of my pants, I hear movement at the door of my apartment.
For fuck’s sake.
I assumed Emma was somewhere in Manhattan living it up.
I didn’t expect her back here yet.
I spin around as the door flies open and she walks in. White shorts and a black T-shirt cover her body. Her hair is tied up into a lopsided ponytail.
Her eyes widen as her gaze flits over my naked chest.
Seeing her reaction to finding me shirtless is enough to jerk my cock to life, but that’s short-lived once I get a glimpse of the person on her heel.
“Cason fucking Abbott,” he blurts out. “I heard you were back in town, you son-of-a-bitch.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I toss him a nod. “Do I know you?”
Panic flits across Emma’s expression. Stepping forward, she stares at me. “He said his name is Gavin Fuller. He told me he’s your cousin.”
Her eyes don’t leave mine even though Gavin is rounding her on his approach to me.
“I wouldn’t have let him come up with me if I didn’t believe his story,” Emma says in a rush. “You don’t look alike, so I was skeptical, but I don’t look like my cousins. Most of them have blonde hair. My parents both have blonde hair, but my mom isn’t a natural blonde if you know what I mean.”
Why the fuck do I like that rambling thing she does?
She carries on at a breathless pace. “His hair is black, and your hair is brown, but you both have green eyes, so I thought that was a family trait. Is it?”
Gavin stops in front of me. “Tell her I’m your cousin.”
I look him over. When I left New York, he was working his way through medical school. Now he’s an E.R. doctor who is too busy to return my calls.
I raise a hand and pat him on the cheek. “Look at you all grown up.”
With a swat of his hand against mine, he laughs. “Look at you. Still shirtless, I see. This is New York, Case, not California. If you want to be taken seriously here, put on a suit.”
Inching closer to us, Emma catches my eye. “So you do know each other?”
Before I have a chance to respond to that, she continues. “He was talking to Lester in the lobby when I came back from the bodega. I went to get some bubble bath, but they were out.”
“Tough luck,” Gavin offers with a glance at her.
Emma shrugs. “It wasn’t meant to be. Anyways, Lester called me over and mentioned that I was staying with you.
So Gavin asked if he could come up, but I explained that you were having dinner with a woman at Nova at seven.
Then Lester said your date must have been canceled because you just got home, so I thought, why not surprise you by bringing your cousin up here to see you? ”
Gavin looks over his shoulder at Emma before his gaze focuses back on me. “What she said.”
I’d forgotten how Lester hovers so he can overhear everything that happens in the lobby.
He must have been listening when I was making a reservation for two.
Lester didn’t realize that the head chef at Nova owed me a favor.
A happily married couple is enjoying a well-deserved gourmet meal on the house tonight.
Reaching for my shirt, I slip it on. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”
“No,” Emma answers before Gavin can get his mouth open.
Fuck.
The question was directed at my cousin, not Drake’s sister.
Gavin turns around to face Emma. “Do you like pasta?”
“Who doesn’t?” she asks with a smile.
Jerking a thumb over his shoulder toward me, Gavin huffs out a laugh. “Cason.”
Shaking my head, I button my shirt. “Fuck you, Fuller. You’re thinking of Calvetti’s, aren’t you?”
That turns him back to face me. “I know from experience that you won’t find authentic Italian food like that on the west coast.”
I’d argue the point, but I see no need. If I’ve missed anything about this city, it’s the food at Calvetti’s.
Grabbing my suit jacket, I point at the door. “Let’s go.”
“Can I get a minute to change my clothes?” Emma asks hopefully.
“Take all the time you need,” Gavin replies. “Case and I have some catching up to do.”
“I’ll be quick,” she says before she crosses the room toward the hallway.
Gavin’s gaze follows her every move, so I poke him in the chest.
“What the fuck?” He takes a step back. “Who is she, and more importantly, why the hell is she living here?”
“She’s not,” I answer as I slide my jacket back on. “She’s Drake’s sister.”
His brows perk. “That’s Whitney?”
“Emma,” I correct him.
He takes a second to register that. “That’s Emma Owens? What’s going on between you two?”
“What the hell do you think?” I shoot back.
“I think she’s your best friend’s sister so you’re behaving yourself.” He tugs on the lapels of my jacket to straighten it. “So, what’s she doing here with you?”
“Bad timing,” I answer smoothly. “She came to New York to surprise Drake.”
Furrowing his brow, his gaze darts to the hallway and the closed guestroom door. “Why would she come here when he’s taken off to get hitched?”
“She didn’t know.”
“She didn’t know?” he repeats. “All of Manhattan knew. You knew. How the fuck did she not know?”
It’s a question that I don’t have an answer to. I won’t have an answer until Drake gets in touch, and I have no idea when that will be.