Chapter 25 – Amanda
It might have been the salt breeze wafting into the bedroom all night.
The more probable answer was that I slept like the dead because of the bone-liquifying release.
Twelve hours of sleep meant my body was brutally exhausted.
Which was a mercy because I didn’t have my sleeping pills.
I swore I packed them, and nothing else was missing.
“Odd.” I zipped the suitcase closed. “Oh, well.”
If there was more sex in my future of the caliber of last night, I might not need the damn things.
My damp hair left watermarks on the beige shell top. At least the fitted jacket would cover that. I slid my arms into the sleeves, tucked the shell into the slacks, and buttoned the jacket. There. Business as usual.
Battling back the rush of excitement at that prospect of seeing Vincenzo, I tiptoed downstairs. The murmur of a masculine voice floated from the back patio. The cadence was…wrong. Peeking around the corner, my chest deflated.
It wasn’t Vincenzo.
I am not disappointed at that!
Opening the French door all the way, I stepped into the warm morning sun. My heels clipped on the worn wood of the rustic patio.
“Call you back,” Bill said and ended his call.
“Don’t hang up on my account.” I folded into the chair across from him.
His eyes narrowed as he watched me. “Why do I get the sense the word traitor is on the tip of your tongue?”
“Because it is,” I snorted. “Where’s your boss?”
Bill held up a finger. “Partner. Not boss.”
I arched a brow. “You don’t work for Vincenzo?”
“No, and I try to avoid working with him. But that’s becoming less and less possible.”
“Why?”
Bill shrugged. “Being close to him is bad for one’s health.”
Well, if that wasn’t a loaded statement….
“Where is he?” I flicked a glance at the beach, half expecting to see the monster emerge from the shimmering blue depths.
“In Boston.”
My chest fell a little more.
Stop that! You hate him.
Except…he said he didn’t end things. Which meant he wasn’t responsible for my broken heart. If that was the case, all the years of agony were misplaced.
But there was no way in hell my father knew about our secret relationship! It had been forbidden, and I was damn careful not to slip up.
“I see.” I leaned forward. Was this the part in the routine where the good cop offered me a bone, only for the bad cop to stomp on my heart later? “What now?”
“Whatever you want, Signora Messina.” Bill’s smile could blind someone.
Whatever I wanted.
Simple.
Too easy.
Vincenzo walked in the world of shadows and blurred lines.
Designing the takedown of my wedding took planning and strategy.
For the life of me, I didn’t understand why.
What we had in the past, what we felt for one another once upon a time, was pale.
Youth-driven longing that ended in heartache.
The kind of inexperienced affection that thought it would stand the test of time.
It seemed utterly ridiculous that he spent the last decade obsessing over me to the point that he came back to interfere with my life.
And yet, he’d swooped in to destroy my wedding. He’d made my father cower.
Regardless of whether my father had known about us or not, Vincenzo believed that was true. While I spent the last decade thinking my old flame had spared me from being engaged to a criminal serving his sentence for racketeering, Vincenzo saw prison as a pause button.
He came now to take me? To make me his after all these years?
Was it really so strange that young love didn’t die?
But this didn’t feel like adoration. Vincenzo wasn’t here to spend a romantic weekend with me.
He was already gone after getting what he wanted—the terms of which still didn’t make sense.
We were married. Was that it? To prove he could take whatever he wanted?
This wasn’t a happy ending to our story.
This was a twisted nightmare. Maybe his feelings didn’t grow during this time.
Maybe they’d festered with his years spent behind bars.
That thought chilled me to the bone.
The sudden urge to escape gripped me. The crash of the waves on the shore was a haunting melody.
The glittering sunlight was too intense.
I needed to leave and embrace normalcy. That meant work.
Once I grounded myself, once I was back in the familiar routines and patterns, I could deal with this clusterfuck.
His crony said whatever I wanted….
“Take me back to New York,” I hedged.
Bill chuckled. “I thought that might be what you said. The jet’s already fueled and waiting.”
***
On the private plane, I’d tried to call Steven using the wi-fi. It went straight to voicemail. My text messages to him went unread. Right as we landed, a foreign number messaged.
Unknown: Miss Loring, kindly remove all forms of contact from your device. You made your intentions clear when you left our nephew at the altar. He does not want to hear from you.
I sighed and closed my phone.
“Why the long face?” Bill cracked his knuckles.
“It’s nothing.”
The crony gave me a skeptical look. “Well, my number’s in your phone if you need it. Best of luck to you. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”
He rose, brushed a hand over his shirt, and began walking to the cabin door as the flight crew lowered the staircase. I hefted my laptop bag over my shoulder and grabbed my suitcase, which I hadn’t let the attendant store during the short flight.
I didn’t trust them. Any of them.
This seemed too good to be true that I was simply allowed to return to life as usual.
“Wait!” I hurried after Bill.
He paused at the bottom of the stairs. “Yeah?”
“You’re just…?” I lifted my hands but quickly reached for the railing as a gust of wind barreled down the runway. “You’re just leaving?”
“I brought you to New York.” Bill pulled out a pair of aviators. “That’s what you asked for, right?”
My designer pumps clattered against the metal steps. “Right.”
Bill smirked. “You don’t sound too sure.”
“I just….” I paused on the last step. “It feels…wrong. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
Looking up to the bright, cloudless blue sky, Bill hummed. “My granny always said don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. She was the positive one. So positive, right until the day she died. A tragic end for someone sunny like her. She was run over by her neighbor’s minivan.”
I gaped at him in horror.
“Cheer up, you’ll get through this.” Bill gave me a mock salute before turning and walking to a waiting car. There wasn’t one for me.
I had to go inside the airport, make my way through the crowds, and wait in line for a cab.
The ride to the office was uneventful. As I walked across the lobby of the skyscraper, I felt a calmness wash over me.
This place was familiar. It called to me.
I worked because I didn’t know what else to do, and with the chaos of my personal life, I needed the grounding feeling of having a task to accomplish.
Pulling my keycard from my laptop bag, I smiled at the security guard. “How’s your day been?”
“Oh, nothing to complain about,” the portly man quipped. “You had a good weekend so far, Miss?”
He wouldn’t believe me if I told him.
“It was eventful,” I said absently, tapping my card against the display. The sooner I was upstairs, the better. I went to push the rotating gate.
The light beeped red, and the metal bar refused to budge.
What the…?
I tried again. It stayed red.
“That thing acting up?” The security guard ambled over. He took my badge and tried a different gate.
Red again.
“Let me see if I can sort this out.” His reassuring smile was full of confidence that this was just a mistake.
I prayed he was right, but the sinking feeling only grew as he dialed his boss. Pulling the strap of my computer bag off my shoulder, I balanced the case on my rolling suitcase.
“Miss Loring, I’m so sorry, but your access to the building has been denied.” The guard came back, handing me the badge. “I’m sure it’s just a mix up.”
“That’s not possible!” I rubbed my solar plexus, the sinking feeling weighing against my chest. “What happened?”
He shrugged. “That’s above my pay grade. Maybe call your employer?”
It couldn’t….
That wasn’t….
No! I took a desperate gulp of air. “Thanks.”
I took the badge and wandered to the row of benches on the far side of the lobby. Sunlight filtered through the tall glass window walls. They were designed to let the light in but keep the heat out. The temperature-controlled air penetrated my suit jacket, making me shiver.
I tried dialing HR, but it went to voicemail.
The legal minds of Kirk & Wallace might work long hours, but the accountants, the human resource goons, and a few other departments kept bankers’ hours.
Only the tech guys worked around the clock, beating the legal team in terms of combined hours.
There was always a wizard available if a partner’s computer crashed, or to prevent the private servers from being hacked.
I thought about trying one of them to see if they knew what was happening.
But my fingers hovered over the contact list in my phone.
I never asked him for a favor before.
If this was a minor inconvenience, bothering the senior partner seemed silly.
“I’ll just keep the conversation short,” I promised myself as I dialed.
Jared St. Just picked up on the second ring. “Amanda, good morning. I didn’t expect to hear from you.”
He sounded…pissed. His voice was tight, as if he were trying to keep from yelling.
“Good morning, sir.” I pulled myself up straight. “I was just on my way up to review the Henderson Merger, but it seems there’s trouble with my access card.”
A pulse of silence echoed through the phone.
An older gentleman wearing a bow-tie entered the lobby, walked through the security checkpoint, and stopped by the bank of elevators beyond. He probably worked for one of the other businesses that used this building. If he was a lawyer, he didn’t work for us. Not in that brown, dated suit.
“Amanda, what’s going on?” St. Just rumbled through the phone. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“No, sir!” I rushed to say. “I came back to the city this morning, and wanted to—”
“You’re not in England?” he interrupted.
Dread slithered through my veins. “No. I never had plans to go to England.”
The senior partner muttered a curse. “Hold on.”
The line disconnected.
I hadn’t said I was going to England. Hell, I hadn’t told anyone I was getting married this weekend. I left work one hour—one measly hour—early on Friday to make it to the groom’s dinner. I planned to be back tonight and in the office tomorrow.
I dropped onto a bench only to shoot back to my feet when St. Just burst from the elevator. He was rumbling into his phone. His voice was loud, but the pulse roaring in my ears muffled his words.
He pushed through the barricade and cut the call as he crossed the lobby to me. His gaze took me in. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. I forced myself to breathe as the telltale signs of panic danced in the distance.
I will not have an attack.
Not here. Not now.
“What’s going on?” St. Just clipped out.
I pushed down my anxiety, thankful my voice sounded steady. “I don’t know, sir. I was hoping you could tell me?”
St. Just raked a hand through his dark, expensive haircut. “Your father sent a memo to the managing partner Friday night. He thanked Kirk for giving you the position at the firm, but said an opportunity presented itself, and you were getting married and moving to England.”
My knees wobbled. I fought to stay straight. “That’s not true!”
Okay, well, it was partially true. I was supposed to be married.
You were married.
With a hard shake of my head, I brought order to the chaos of my thoughts.
“I didn’t ask him to send that,” I added. “It’s a mistake.”
“I realize that…now.” St. Just slid his phone in his pocket. “To be honest, it stung, Amanda.”
“I’m sorry,” I croaked. “I would never leave the company that way, and—I don’t want to leave at all!”
St. Just watched me. “I just spoke with Kirk. He said having you was a favor to your dad. I never saw your place here like that. You worked harder than any other partner.”
“Except you,” I said before biting my tongue.
His lip twitched. “You gave me a run for my money.” He shook his head. “What’s going on? Why would your father conspire with the managing partner like that?”
“I don’t know.” I fidgeted. “I was supposed to get married this weekend—”
St. Just sucked in a sharp breath, eyes narrowing.
“It was just a legal convenience,” I rushed to clarify. “Nothing was supposed to change. I still want to work here.” I am not a nepo baby. I put in the hours. I did my time. The work spoke for itself.
“I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not promising anything. The managing partner is tight with your father. You’d better talk to him in the meantime.”
My dad, not Thomas Kirk.
“I appreciate that.” The lobby spun. The space grew small. My knees clacked hard. Oh, lord, I lost my job. “I can’t….” I cleared my throat. “I can’t just go upstairs and work?”
Pity shone in his hazel eyes. “I’m afraid not. If it was just a mix up, I would escort you up as a guest—and it’s not because I don’t want to. I need help with the merger.” He let out a frustrated grunt. “But you’ve been banned from the premises.”
It took everything I had not to sit down. I struggled to find air, forced my lungs to breathe. I couldn’t afford a panic attack. Not here, not now. St. Just was a shark. He could smell weakness a mile away.
“Banned,” I snapped. “I haven’t done anything.”
“I’ll fight this, but you need to go home, Amanda.” His phone rang. “I’ll call you with any updates.”
“Thank you.” I deserved more than one friendly face at the firm, but I was grateful there was one champion for my cause. “We’ll talk soon.”
St. Just gave me a nod before answering his phone and striding back to the security barricade and sanctuary beyond. All I wanted to do as a kid was be a lawyer. Wear the power suits, go to court. Other girls had dreams and hobbies. I had goals and ambition. Now, in a blink, it was gone.