14. June
14
JUNE
I should tell Anderson. But each time I start to text him, my hands shake. He’s going to hate me. Even if he doesn’t, do we really need this kind of stress right now? With the police sniffing around, the collapse of his family’s fortune and legacy isn’t something he needs to deal with at the moment.
So, by keeping it to myself, I’m protecting him. Aren’t I?
Okay, I’m protecting myself. I know I am. It would be foolish to think I’m doing anything else by keeping this from him.
Instead of calling him about Andre, I use voice-to-text to tell him to meet me at home tonight instead of the hotel. I’d rather be there, where we know not to talk about legal issues. That way, if I clam up, he won’t try to dig into things. I can be evasive without him getting upset.
I can get away with keeping this secret for at least one more day and give myself enough time to come up with a way to tell my fiancé, “Hey, I accidentally helped destroy your family.” Though, I’m not sure one more day will help with that.
After I delivered the picture frame to Andre, I made up an excuse and went to my office for a few hours before texting Anderson about going home. I’ve been in here ever since, trying to figure out how to calm the hell down before meeting up with him. Pacing in heels is not my idea of fun, so I’m barefoot in my office with the curtains drawn and the lights down low to help me clear my head. Thankfully, my carpet is plush.
How in the hell am I going to get out of any of this?
I’m an accomplice to the improper disposing of a body. I am also an accomplice to hostile takeovers of the Wests’ companies. For fuck’s sake, I’d like to be in trouble for something I did on purpose for once in my life. Instead, I’m just an accomplice.
I laugh once and sharply at myself. The truth is, I’d prefer never to be a criminal and to never be in trouble. Keeping my nose clean was how I got places in the world. It was how I kept my scholarships for schools my family could not afford and how I kept my grades up once I got there. I did not screw up. I did not fall for scams or make poor choices. When I was younger, I was the friend whose friends’ parents used as an example of a good kid. They used to complain that at home, they’d hear, “Why can’t you be more like June?”
Pretty sure those days are over now. No one wants a kid in the kind of trouble I’m in.
Okay, what to do … If I come clean with the police, there will be legal fallout all over the place, mostly in the form of Anderson facing serious prison time while I have short prison time. So, that is not an option. If I come clean with Anderson, he has every right to break up with me. I’m supposed to be smarter than this. I should have seen this shit coming. He will be so fucking disappointed in me. Almost as much as I am.
I should have known Andre was up to some shit when he hired me. He wants to use me to twist the knife. To hurt the West family that much more when he scoops up half their revenue. Hell, that was his move with me the first time when he kidnapped me. He’d done it just to prove a point to Elliot. That point being that no one on his side of their equation was untouchable.
How in the hell didn’t I see Andre’s devilry before now?
And if I tell Anderson any of it, he will break up with me. The thought makes my chest tight. I force deep breaths, and it hurts. My ribs are too tight. No, it’s the bra. I unhook it, leaving my blouse undone in the back. Okay, I can take deep breaths now, but am I even worthy of them? I’ve fucked everything up.
I groan at myself and fall onto my couch. It’s far more comfortable than it looks, and it’s long enough for me to stretch out on. But being still feels like going backward. Somehow, pacing feels like I’m doing something useful.
I sit up and debate more pacing. But the truth is, I’m just spinning my wheels, and I know it. Something has to give. Anderson kept bringing up me trusting him lately, and he’s right. I need to depend on him more. I can’t handle this all myself. If I could just tell Anderson about Andre’s scheme without worrying he’d dump me, then I would tell him about this.
But if I do that, then that’s one more thing on his shoulders. I know he says he’s fine about his brush with mortality, but he was shot and almost died, and now, he’s worried about the whole Neil thing. He doesn’t need another huge worry stacked onto him. It’s just not fair, and I?—"
Someone knocks at my door, and I damn near leap out of my skin. I hook my bra together and tuck my blouse back in. “Come in.”
In walks Carlos, looking like a million bucks in his designer suit. But for once, he isn’t smiling. At least, not with his mouth. His eyes, on the other hand, practically dance in his well-formed skull. Unlike every other time he’s come into my office, he closes the door behind him.
It feels like a threat.
I stand up, not willing to deal with him sitting down unless he is, too. “Carlos, what can I do for you?”
It’s then that his trademark smile slashes across his face. “June, June, June. Devlin, soon to be West, correct?”
I have never told him who I’m marrying, and I do not like that he knows so much. Though, to be fair, when you’re involved with the Wests, it’s almost like everyone knows your business before you do. “I’ll be keeping my name. What makes you ask?”
Unbidden, he strolls to my guest chair and plops down before fiddling with the arm of the chair. “This office needs a refresh, don’t you think?”
“Considering I decorated it less than three months ago, no. I don’t.” I walk to my desk, but I don’t sit. I’d hate for him to mistake us as on equal footing. Instead, I lean on the edge with my hip and fold my arms to glare down at him.
“It is nice enough, I suppose,” he says, glancing around. “But it will be so much nicer once I’ve put my mark on it.”
I huff a laugh at him. “And what makes you think you’ll have the chance?”
“Fate.”
“Are you here for a real reason or simply because you’re bored, because I’m sure Andre would love to know?—"
“I’m sure there are many things Andre would love to know, June.” He smirks up at me. “Don’t you?”
What the fuck does he know? He can’t possibly know anything about Neil, right?
But instead of giving him the satisfaction of seeing me panic, I smile down at him. I will not give Carlos what he wants. Let the police drag me away in chains, but I will never let Carlos see me upset. Every time he opens his mouth, I want to punch his perfect teeth.
Calmly, I tell him, “Andre is a curious man. I bet you’re right. Why don’t you bother him with whatever is on your mind instead of bothering me?”
“He’s out for the rest of the day, sadly.” He picks at invisible lint on the chair arm. “Seems he’s too excited with his new protégé to sit still. He said something about taking his yacht out for the afternoon. Which means the rest of us are left with little more to do than to amuse ourselves.”
“Well. As amusing as you think you are, I have work to do. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
“Do you truly feel dismissing me is your best course of action, June? For all you know, it could be the worst mistake of your life.”
Credit to Carlos, he is good at saying cryptic shit to make me curious. But I have enough on my plate to deal with. Whatever he’s getting at—telling Andre about Neil, telling Anderson about Andre, talking to the police about something he thinks he knows—it’s like a hidden gun. No point in getting upset about it until I know for certain it’s there or until he shoots. I don’t have time to deal with anything less.
“I’ve made a lot of worst mistakes in my life, but you know what happens every single time, Carlos?” I step closer to him and look up into his eyes. “I win. So think carefully about coming into my office and threatening me with your smoke and mirrors. The worst mistake you can make is underestimating me. Now go.” I turn around and flick my hand dismissively toward the door as I walk to my chair. “I have actual business to attend to, something I’m sure you’re not familiar with since Andre doesn’t like you.”
That earns his arched brow as I put my feet up on my desk and lean back. Petulantly, he asks, “What do you mean Andre doesn’t like me?”
“A slip of the tongue,” I lie. “Nothing for you to worry about. Yet.”
He recovers his smooth exterior by smiling like a used car salesman. “I suppose we’ll see. After all, legal issues don’t ever really disappear, do they?”
After he closes the door behind him, I hold my head in my hands. What the fuck was that?