Chapter 15
Brooks
T he door to my office swings open moments after my assistant gave me the heads-up about unplanned company.
“And here I thought I was the only one who could get your sister this pissed off.”
I watch my brother-in-law stroll into my office, a grin on his face, loosening his tie with one hand while holding a file in the other. My pen slips from my fingers, knowing why he’s here. My sister sent her husband to knock some sense into me. Just the latest in a growing list of people who’ve reached out to me today, including my worried mom.
Aiden unbuttons his suit jacket, takes a seat, and leans back. “Put a ring on a finger lately?”
Technically, no. But the logistics of my drunken wedding aren’t the point of his question. Reading my silence, he proceeds, sliding the case file onto my desk with an FBI stamp on it. It has Gracyn’s name printed on the front. I understand now. He’s here to apply some pressure, making it seem official.
“Do you know anything about her?” he asks, his tone shifting to a serious note.
I hesitate. The thought of what’s in that file gnaws at me, afraid they might try to tarnish my wife’s reputation. I tap my finger on the file. “Is this necessary? We’re getting an annulment.”
He points to it. “You can thank your sister for that,” he says. “The second she heard the news, there wasn’t anything I could do to stop her.”
I close my eyes, shaking my head.
“You can’t be surprised,” he says.
I open the folder, flipping through it. Pictures, random documents of Gracyn’s past, a copy of our marriage license, and some pictures of her and her family when she was little. And here I was worried about paparazzi being invasive. “There’s nothing in here new to me. What’s this about because I have a meeting in fifteen minutes?”
He sighs and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth. “There’s more.”
Of course there is. He wouldn’t be here if there weren’t. But my patience is wearing thin, so I gesture for him to keep going.
“In the late eighties, there were two very well-known criminal organizations. One in Chicago, one in Vegas. No relation to each other.” My attention sharpens at the subtle clue that he’s talking about my biological dad. Aiden went undercover with the FBI to take him down eight years ago.
Since I was adopted, I wasn’t aware of Travis until I was eighteen. I can’t say for certain what he does, but from what I’ve pieced together, it’s mostly illegal—guns, drug trafficking, and a few legitimate businesses thrown in to launder his gains. We have a don’t ask, don’t tell understanding. Despite our different career paths, I see a lot of myself in him. Relentless pursuit of success.
Aiden leans forward. “The cause of their conflict is still a mystery. But they started picking each other off left and right. It was a bloodbath. The police and FBI sort of stood back, letting them kill each other off. I mean, why impede bad guys from killing each other, right?”
“Law enforcement in a nutshell,” I joke, and he throws his middle finger up in response.
“Then out of nowhere, it stopped. The whole thing went quiet, and they’ve since lived amicably.”
I frown, not understanding his direction. “What does this have to do with me?”
“The bureau’s afraid you’re about to start that war again.”
I blink. “What the hell are you talking about? I have nothing to do with Travis.”
He hesitates before dropping the bombshell. “Your wife? Gracyn Rae Carmichael is Raymond Knight’s daughter.”
The name stirs a memory.
“He owns half of Vegas, and the man Travis was at war with.”
I snap, recalling a business meeting with him a couple of years ago about doing marketing for a new hotel he was launching. After finding out that the hotel catered to some kind of seductive fantasies and had playrooms, we agreed the proposal was out of line with our brand.
“Hold on,” I say as I swing back to what Aiden said. “Gracyn’s dad is a judge in Vegas.”
“And your dad crunches numbers for a living,” he deadpans, referring to my adopted dad.
It takes a moment for my thoughts to fill in the blanks. I raise up a hand, putting it all together. “So, your story … Travis and Raymond?” He nods in confirmation. “And now Travis’s son is married to his archenemy’s daughter?”
“Bingo.” Anger drowns out the surprise, and I barely register Aiden’s voice as he asks, “Did you?—”
“Wait,” I snap, needing a moment. I spin in my chair, away from his questioning eyes. His unfinished question hangs in the air. The weight of the past bears down on me, triggering a sense of déjà vu. Dulled pain from the last time a woman used me sharpens. Six years ago, I made a vow to keep women at arm’s length and never be on the ass end of a conniving woman’s plan again. The idea of being manipulated again infuriates me. I swear under my breath, the anger rising fast.
“Brooks, did she approach you?”
Scrubbing my beard, an icy knot in my gut tightens, and I curse under my breath again. The thunderstorm outside mirrors the chaos in my head. Slowly, I force the words out. “Yes.” I whip around. “But Gracyn isn’t anything like Jessie. She was the one who served me annulment papers. Why the hell would she do that if she had ulterior motives?”
He seems unconvinced, bobbing his head. “Brother, let’s be honest here. When it comes to women, your judgment hasn’t exactly been stellar.” I raise an eyebrow, ready to remind him that Jessie was the psycho that he brought into my life. “You look pretty cozy with the woman you’re supposed to be getting an annulment with,” he adds, pointing to a picture of us, dancing cheek to cheek.
The photo stabs at my patience. Why does everyone keep making that assumption? Just because we had sex doesn’t mean we’re going to be lifelong partners. I’ve screwed a lot of women, and none have the last name Handley.
“Are you sure that wasn’t a reason to come to New York?”
Yes.
No.
Fuck.
I throw my hands up in the air. “You seem to be the one with all the answers,” I snap, a mix of irritation and confusion coloring my tone. Frustration boils over, and I grip the padding on top of the chair, needing something to help ground me.
If she’s playing games, it’s best she knows who she’s playing with.
Leaning over my desk, I grab the office phone, pressing it to my ear as I jab my finger on my assistant’s extension. “Clear my schedule for the rest of today and tomorrow. I’ll be out of pocket.”
“Brooks, wait,” Aiden interjects, rising to his feet as soon as I hang up. “We need more information. Let’s be smart about this.”
Ignoring his advice, I snap open my briefcase and shove a couple of files with my current projects in it, including the FBI file. I doubt it’s the original. “I’m not sure what you expected me to do, but sitting by and letting her play me isn’t an option.” The click of my case echoing is my resolve.
“I’d feel better if Presley stayed with us while you’re away.”
For once, I agree with him. “I’ll arrange for Judith to bring her over tomorrow after school. I’ll leave in the morning.” If it weren’t for Presley, I’d leave right now.
Aiden nods. “I’m also alerting the FBI in Vegas, so don’t be surprised if you notice a few eyes on you.”
I freeze for a moment. “That’s jumping the gun. I’m sure I can handle Gracyn alone,” I assert, storming out of the office.
He follows me out and puts his hand on my shoulder when we get to the elevator. “You don’t know what she’s capable of. What they’re planning. You’ll be on their turf. I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for that little girl.”
On the drive home, my mind won’t stop spinning. She initiated the annulment. She left without wanting anything, even after our amazing weekend. If she was trying to worm her way into my life, she’s going about it all wrong. But then she did text me about her job. Is she trying to keep me within arm’s length?
Was that her plan all along? To make me want her so much that it’s impossible to stay away? I’ve lost count how many times this past week I considered getting on a plane just to see her, and it’s only been barely two weeks since she was underneath me.
Her plan is working.
The penthouse door slams shut with more force than intended. Judith jumps, clutching one of Presley’s stuffed animals to her chest.
“Sorry. Bad day at work.”
She places the stuffed animal on the shelf. “Anything I can do to help? I can take Pres to dinner if you need alone time to handle business stuff,” she offers.
I let out a small growl of frustration, releasing some of the tension coiled tight in my chest. “Thanks for the offer, but I’d like to have dinner with her. I have to go out of town for a work emergency tomorrow morning. Can you take her to Addison’s house after school?”
“Of course. Where are you headed?”
“Vegas.”
“Oh.”
I turn my head in her direction, sensing an unspoken undercurrent in her response. “Is there something wrong with that?”
She fidgets. “Sorry, no. Not at all. I just thought…” Her voice trails off, hesitating for a beat. “Last time you came back from Vegas, you told me never to let you go back.”
Right. I said that, didn’t I?
I sigh, leaning against the wall. “Something’s come up that I have to deal with. Otherwise, it’s sound advice.”
Only trouble is in Vegas. And it starts with a capital G and ends in sin.
Judith finishes tidying up before heading out to pick up Presley as I pack my bag. Leaving on such short notice irks me, but I need answers. I need to find out if I’m being used as a pawn again.
* * *
I’m greeted with the unmistakable sound of the front door slamming shut, reverberating through the penthouse. Like father, like daughter. Seems bad days are contagious around here. I peek around the corner from my bedroom and don’t see anyone, so I walk out to the living room to find Presley by the front door. Her small fists clench by her sides, and a fiery determination blazes in her eyes. She’s clearly upset.
“Hey, Snarky, what’s?—”
“I have a mommy and you didn’t tell me!”
Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck.
I blink, trying to keep my composure, but my pulse is picking up speed. “Sweetheart, what are you talking about?”
She glares at me, her jaw set. “The kids at school said you got married, and now I have a mommy! Who is she?”
Those pint-sized demons.
I release a heavy sigh and crouch down to her level. She scrunches up her little face like someone who sucked on a lemon. I’ve always aimed to be truthful with her, especially when she asks challenging questions. We’ve had conversations about her mother, discussing how she had struggled but loved her dearly. I’ve chosen my words carefully, not revealing that her mom is a parasite, but making sure Presley understands it was Jessie’s decision not to be a part of her life.
“Presley,” I start, my brain scrambling for the right words. “I fucked up.”
Her eyes widen as if I told her Santa wasn’t real. I never cuss around her. I’m trying to find the simplest way to explain to a six-year-old what happened. You’re doing a horrible job so far. Solid parenting move.
“Daddy did a dumb thing. When I was in Vegas with Uncle Jared…” Words trail off as I realize there’s no simple explanation for this. So, I go for plan B; lie. “It was a pretend marriage. In Vegas, you can go to this little chapel and have Elvis sing to you and have a pretend wedding. We did that, having some fun. She isn’t my wife, but people are saying she is. She doesn’t even live in New York.”
Her gaze sharpens, and she’s trying to figure out if my story makes sense. For a six-year-old who spends half her time in a world of make-believe, she’s a tough crowd. “What’s her name?”
It’s only a matter of time until she sees the pictures, so I can’t lie myself out of this one. “Gracyn.”
Her entire face lights up, her lips spreading into the biggest, most delighted grin I’ve ever seen. No, don’t do that. Do not do that.
“Really? Gracyn is my pretend mom?” She squeals, vibrating with excitement.
“Snarky,” I say, drawing out her name. “She is not your mom. At all.” If there is anything I need her to understand, it’s this.
“But she wouldn’t have pretended to marry you if she didn’t like you,” she counters, her little head weaving from side to side in that sassy way she’s perfected. Under different circumstances, it’d be funny. “And I know you like her.”
How? How in the hell does she know that? She saw us together for five minutes. One dance.
“It was pretend,” I insist. “Just like you play pretend when you dress up like a superhero or a princess. Something silly we did.”
She nods, her face calm, and for a second, it seems she gets it. But then I see those little wheels turning in her head. I brace myself as her mouth opens. “I’ll take a pretend mom over no mom.”
Her words slice through me, and my shoulders slump as I sigh, taking her small hands in mine. “I get it. You want a mom, and someday, I hope to give you one. One that we’ll both love and live here forever with us. But that is not Gracyn. Someday, you’ll understand what happened.”
Her eyes fill with tears, big and round, and I can see the heartbreak as clearly as I feel it. One tear slips free, sliding down her cheek and hitting me in the heart. I gently wipe it away, and the tear of disappointment burns my skin.
“For now, I’ll have to be enough for you,” I whisper and scoop her into my arms and hug her tightly. “I love you, Presley.”
She digs her little head into my chest, and her voice is so small when she says, “I love you too, Daddy.”