Chapter Eighteen
Noah
My phone’s been pinging nonstop with texts from my brothers since the Saturday dinner. Hux didn’t mention that we ate at the blacklisted steakhouse, but he told them everything he witnessed between me and Bobbi.
Of course there’s no way my brothers are letting such a great opportunity to rag me pass, so they’re still giving me shit, even though it’s Sunday morning now.
–Emmett: I thought there might be something between you and Bobbi, but an engagement?
–Grant: So when’s the wedding?
–Griffin: The real question is, IS there a wedding?
–Sebastian: There are engagements and there are engagements. He didn’t even give her a ring.
–Nicholas: What were you thinking?
–Huxley: I figured out who the guy she was with was. Eugene Hae. He’s rich, and comes from an even richer family. We did some campaigns for his company.
–Me: Thank you, Hux. I would’ve never figured that out on my own.
I already hacked the security feed at the restaurant and looked the guy up. There’s more information than I could read in a day on him.
–Huxley: You’re welcome.
–Sebastian: Oh, he’s from the Hae Min Group. A Sebastian Peery Collaboration partner in Korea. You’ve got some stiff competition. He’s young, single and rich.
–Me: Thank you, Seb. But Hux already told me he was rich, and I saw him with my own eyes. I’m just as young, single and rich as him.
–Sebastian: Also handsome, in case you didn’t notice that particular aspect.
–Me: And here I thought you had good taste.
My sarcasm doesn’t stop Huxley, though.
–Huxley: Oh, Noah noticed. You should’ve seen his reaction when he saw Bobbi with the guy.
Asshole. I don’t know if he saw his grandmother and Andreas at the restaurant, but it isn’t my problem if he was too amused by my misfortune to notice. My priority is finding a way to dig myself out of the hole Joey put me in. I let my brothers give me shit while my mind whirls.
Bobbi probably won’t marry Eugene Hae. He lives in Korea, and she isn’t going to give up Bobbi’s Sweet Things to go to Seoul to play the tycoon’s wife. If that’s the life she wanted, she would’ve said yes when I tried to drop to my knee at the Peery Diamonds store. I have plenty of money and I can set her up as a rich man’s wife with unlimited access to my funds and properties.
On the other hand… She could just open a Bobbi’s Sweet Things in Seoul. Koreans love good pastries.
Damn it.
After making sure Bobbi’s not home—my job comes with unusual benefits—I stop by a supermarket and pick up a couple of things before heading to Bobbi’s place. She’s changed her locks, probably pissed off that she gave me a key after we came back from Mexico. But no lock can keep me out when I want to get in.
The inside of the house is the same—except for the new couch and the bed in the master bedroom. I helped her throw out the old sofa and bed, and my team promptly took them and ripped them apart, just in case. Mom stared at the mess for so long—without speaking—that I knew she was both disappointed and pissed. The dossiers are a splinter under her nail she can’t get rid of, and they’ll bother her until the day she dies even if she has accepted intellectually that they are no longer around. She’s only satisfied if she has clear confirmation that the mission objective has been achieved.
Se?or Mittens meows at me, nose held high in disapproval and disdain. If he could speak, he’d say, You’re late.
At least the hair on his back isn’t bristling. When I first showed up with Lorcan, he acted like I was a serial cat killer and scratched the back of my hand deeply enough to draw blood. The wound has healed, and now the lines are gone.
“My God, you are grumpy for such a well-fed cat. Traffic sucked, okay? It’s L.A.” I set my stuff on the kitchen counter.
He gives me a wide-mouthed yawn. Yeah yeah yeah, excuses, excuses.
“You could be a little more gracious. I never avenged myself for that hairball.”
He stalks toward me, eyes slitted and paws padding over the ugly green and brown tiles. He makes an impatient growling noise.
“Just hold your horses, Se?or Kitty.”
I pull out a plate from one of the cupboards and put it on the counter. Then I reach into the paper bag I’ve been carrying and slap a fresh, sashimi-grade ahi tuna steak on the plate. Just by itself it’s more than enough to tempt any feline, but I’m not done. I’m running out of time and need to make sure this cat is on my side as soon as possible. Soon a thick layer of caviar tops the tuna.
“Ta-da! A meal worthy of the emperor of cats. You should give me bonus points. I don’t even feed my brothers caviar.”
The cat licks his chops. I grin with triumph. “Oh yeah, baby. Come to papa!”
He jumps up to the stool, then onto the kitchen counter, his eyes on the feast I’ve created.
“Who’s the best human?” I ask.
Se?or Greedy doesn’t deign to acknowledge me. Instead he starts scarfing down the tuna and caviar like he hasn’t eaten in ages. Which is ridiculous—I’ve been feeding him fresh tuna for days now.
“Hope she appreciates what I’m going through to win you over.”
He ignores me. Or simply doesn’t hear in his feeding frenzy.
The fine hair on the back of my neck starts to stand up. It’s the same physical reaction I experienced before the plane went down, and apprehension brushes its icy fingers down my spine. My fingers itch for the gun hidden under my shirt, but I restrain myself. There shouldn’t be anything in this neighborhood that will require me to fire a shot.
Still, the unsettling sensation intensifies. Just to be sure, I check the house, then head outside, hand on my Sig Sauer, and look around.
This neighborhood has mostly middle-class families, and most of them are out working, their kids in school. A guy with terrible burn scars on his cheek is limping down the street. He doesn’t look homeless—his cap seems new, and his white T-shirt and jeans are clean. His eyes are glued to his phone. He’s walking straight, so not intoxicated or high. A few houses down, another guy is mowing his lawn.
A short blonde climbs out of her black Camry across the street and starts to unload groceries. Darcy, a nosy neighbor who keeps an eye on everything and loves to gossip. She’s harmless, but has a scary memory for details. The only reason Mom isn’t interested in her is that she can’t distinguish what’s important from what’s mundane. The man pushes his cap down low on his head, probably to hide his scars from her and avoid any uncomfortable gawking.
Nothing’s out of place. The man turns the corner; Darcy shuts her trunk and goes inside her house. Mister Lawn Mower does a one-eighty and starts down another swath of grass. The chilly sensation dissipates.
That was weird. No unusual cars or people sitting in their automobiles, thumbing through their phones. So what was that about?
Your instincts are fucked up, a voice in my head says. You didn’t know your plane was sabotaged until it was too late, which you gotta admit is weird because if it were a few years ago, you would’ve noticed.
They aren’t fucked up, I argued with myself. I scan the area again, then return to the kitchen where Se?or Mittens is now cleaning himself. Or maybe he’s trying to impart the tuna smell all over his body.
“Did you like that?” I scratch his head. Instead of acting like I’m a plague carrier, which he did before, he actually leans into it a bit. “You’re an expensive cat.”
He purrs, probably saying, I’m not cheap or easy.
I brush his hair, then give him a catnip toy out of a tightly sealed bag. “Make sure Bobbi doesn’t see this. It’s a secret between you and me—cat to man,” I tell him as he pounces on the mouse-shaped toy, tail raised high.
While he’s busy dominating his new toy, showing it who’s the boss, I wash the plate, dry it and put it away. Bobbi doesn’t need to know I’ve been feeding her cat behind her back or that I’m slowly winning him over. I’d bet my Bugatti that if she found out what I’m up to, she’d poison that innocent kitty mind against me.
My work completed, I head downtown to Manny’s Tacos, arriving exactly at noon. The air inside one of the most popular Mexican restaurants in SoCal sizzles with grilled meat and veggies. Heated spices let off a pungent aroma, and everywhere I look cheese is melting.
The place is hopping with the lunch crowd, but I head straight to the private party room I’ve reserved. I had to bribe Lucie and Aspen with all the margaritas they could drink to get them to see me on such short notice, but this is an emergency.
Although Eugene Hae is an unlikely option, I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Bobbi “manifest” some guy—any guy—and marry him.
Because when she spoke of marrying another guy and spending the rest of her life with him, my mind spun a montage movie of her life. Bobbi in a stunning wedding gown and veil. Her smile. The music. The vows she takes to accept another man into her life more intimately than before, while he pledges himself to her. And the fucker touching her…
That’s about as far as my imagination went before it crashed and burned. I can’t let her be with somebody else. I know that now. Mom was wrong when she told me to get Bobbi out of my system because she’s bad for me. My mental state has suffered due to the fact that I don’t have the woman I want most in my life. Most of my brothers have gone through the same thing when they had their crises with their ladies. It’s just that they don’t work in the same field I do.
Still, my situation with Bobbi isn’t something I can discuss with my brothers. What do they know about how women’s minds work? If they did, they would’ve never had any issues with their ladies. And they’d just take it as an opportunity to rag on me even more because that’s just how we troll.
And I don’t need that right now. I need a plan of action. And that means getting some female perspective—and not from my mother because there’s some doubt as to whether she’s actually human. But Lucie and Aspen…? They’ll give me the straight scoop. And point out what about Sebastian and Grant’s appeal made them give my brothers another chance after they’d dug themselves giant craters.
I head to the private room and open the door to a much bigger crowd than expected. Amy, Sierra and Molly are at the table along with Aspen and Lucie. I look at them blankly.
“Hey, my favorite brother!” Amy says with a cheery greeting. For a split-second I wonder if she has the day off, but she’s in a business casual outfit—a cream-colored blouse and pale azure slacks. GrantEm never rests. Might be Sunday in SoCal, but a financial market somewhere in another time zone is humming.
“I invited them when you said you needed female help,” Aspen says, pushing her bangs out of her face. Even seated, her amazing dancer’s posture shows through.
“Cause in case you haven’t noticed, we’re all female.” Sierra says, then takes a healthy swallow of her margarita. She’s pretty with bright eyes that never fail to sparkle with good humor. You’d never know she’s the CEO of a highly successful adult toy company from the cute baby-chick-yellow sundress she’s wearing. “Have a seat.”
“Um…thanks.” I sit down and pour myself a margarita. Probably going to be necessary.
“Now what’s this help you need?” Molly asks, all earnest. She’s a gentle person, always eager to help. I should look into running her former boss down with an elephant. That would be hilarious and karmic.
“Okay. First off, it’s a secret. So you can’t tell anybody,” I say.
“Not even Seb?” Lucie asks, blue eyes owlishly wide.
“Most especially not Seb. Or any of my brothers,” I say, looking around the table. “Nobody, really. It’s about my book, and you know how writers get about keeping their plots all secret.” It’s mostly true, so I’m not too upset about lying to my innocent sisters-in-law. The book is about my secret life with Bobbi. It’s just that I keep getting stuck after the first scene. For some bizarre reason, my Muse makes Bobbi run into me while I’m about to snipe a target, and that is the wrong kind of future. She should never be where terrorists are.
“Why?” Amy asks.
“So nobody steals their good ideas.”
“Seb said you still haven’t finished your book.”
“Of course he did.” That asshole. And my brothers laughed at me over the now-deleted scene about riding zebras. It’d be fun to do, though. Bobbi would love to travel to Africa and see the wildlife and…stuff. “I’m getting there.”
Our server interrupts, and I order the special without bothering to look at the menu. My sisters-in-law get platters to share.
Then we’re private again. I munch on a salsa-laden chip for a little time to gather my thoughts. “Okay. So…my story is about a guy and a girl. And he sort of…” I start bringing them up to speed on what happened between me and Bobbi, changing several specific details.
Our server returns with more pitchers of margarita and food. Fast service is one of the reasons Manny’s is so popular, but it’s interfering with my story. Eventually, though, I get through it.
Sierra squints at me. “So… Not only did he forget to pick her up after the hospital stay—and see her after somebody tried to run her over—but he totally forgot to show up for her company opening, too?”
“He didn’t exactly forget.” I knew exactly when it was. And where. “But he had something else to do that was more pressing.”
“Did his mother have a heart attack?” Lucie asks with a small frown.
“No.” Mom doesn’t have a heart. “His mother is healthier than most people in their twenties.”
Amy looks up in the middle of dumping more guacamole over her shredded chicken and cheese. “So it wasn’t life or death…?”
“Not for him.” It was for the guy in the scope. But that isn’t a detail they need. “More like a work-related obligation.”
Molly shakes her head. “Please tell me this guy is not the main male character.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your female lead deserves better.”
Ugh. Molly is totally missing the point. “You’re supposed to put yourself in the perspective of the man. And help him figure out a way to make it up to her so she’ll forgive him.”
“Oh.” She smiles awkwardly then glances at Lucie, who is frowning. Aspen and Amy look like they’re too shocked to speak. Sierra is still squinting.
Finally, Aspen clears her throat. “Why don’t you just say it’s about you?”
Uh-oh.“Because it isn’t…?”
Lucie scoffs. “Noah, you’re slick, but not that slick. You think you’re the only one who’s ever ‘asked for a friend’?”
“Well, pssht, yeah, of course. Totally cliché.” I laugh a little, glancing around the table. “But I’m asking for my book.”
The women don’t seem to be convinced. Looks are exchanged and some sort of silent consensus is reached.
“Grovel,” Lucie says. “On your knees. Crawling in an expensive bespoke suit does the trick.”
Amy asks, “Is that what Seb did to win you back?”
Lucie merely smiles.
“I don’t know if that’s going to work.” Bobbi looked really upset when I dropped to one knee to propose. On the other hand, maybe it’s the crawling that does the trick. Plus, I wasn’t in a suit…
“Buying her a yacht is an option. Of course, you’ll have to pay the taxes and other stuff, but…” Amy shrugs.
“Emmett bought you a yacht?” I haven’t heard anything about that.
“No. But Gavin Lloyd did for his wife a while back. He also bought her a private jet, which was sort of wasted since she doesn’t fly much.”
“Money is nice, but you have to do more,” Aspen says. “If the only thing she cared about was money, she would’ve gotten herself a sugar daddy a long time ago.”
Molly nods. “Show her how much you appreciate her. Make sure she knows she’s your Number One.” She bites into a taco.
“Which means no missing big dates and anniversaries,” Sierra says solemnly. “There are apps that keep track of things like that for you.”
“Or you could get an assistant,” Lucie suggests.
“Like Joey.” Amy makes a face. “He never forgets a birthday. He sent Monique a tennis racket with a gold-and-diamond edge trim. She can barely pick it up.”
“I’m not getting myself a Joey. He’d repel her faster than crotch lice.”
My sisters-in-law choke, then start laughing. Aspen’s face is so red, it matches her hair perfectly.
Finally, they get over their laughing fit. Molly wipes tears from her eyes. “Just be yourself.” She gives me an encouraging smile. “Share your secrets and let her really see the person deep inside. Once she does that, she’ll fall in love with you.”
I try to chew my burrito without choking. But there’s no way I can follow Molly’s well-meaning advice.
If Bobbi ever finds out I assassinated her father, any chance of her giving me a fair shot will be DOA.