Chapter 43
Chapter
Forty-Three
Alejandro
Iwalk through the bar and grab a seat next to Jax. He slides a glass of Scotch to me, and I take a swig, the smooth, rich malt burning my throat as I swallow.
“What did you find out for me?” I ask.
“Martin Edmunds was in the Navy. Worked his way up to master chief petty officer and left at the age of fifty-one with a stellar record. He opened his own butcher shop in Brooklyn and did a lot for his local community. He ran the store until he died twelve years later in a car accident.”
“And Alana’s grandmother?”
“Beverly Edmunds was a high school teacher. She also retired at fifty-one.”
I down the rest of my Scotch. “She left her job to raise Alana?”
Jax nods. “Seems like. She was heavily involved with the church and did a lot for the local homeless shelter and soup kitchen. But she never had paid employment again. She died two years after her husband.”
“How?”
“Cancer.”
I grimace at the thought of Alana losing the two people who raised her so close together and at such a difficult age. “Why didn’t any of this come up before?”
“Well, before, you looked into Alana yourself and didn’t ask me to do it,” he says with a knowing grin.
I can’t argue with that or my regret for never trying to see beyond the picture Foster Carmichael painted of Alana.
I had no reason or desire to look further.
Too arrogant to think a woman like her could ever pose a threat to me because I would never feel anything for her.
Yet she’s now the most dangerous person I know.
The only person who could break me if she chose to.
Jax takes a sip of his drink and continues.
“The official story is that Alana was very close to her grandparents, and so she stayed with them a lot while her parents traveled around the country, but the truth is she practically lived with them from the age of one. That’s not exactly a secret as such, but they lived in a small, close-knit neighborhood, and her grandparents were well-regarded, so nobody gossiped about their setup.
Martin and Beverly Edmunds were pillars of the community, and from what I could gather, they didn’t have much money because they helped out so many local families.
Martin’s shop made little profit because he kept his prices low so people could afford to eat well. ”
“So Alana’s childhood was nothing like I imagined. Nothing like what her snake of a father would have had me believe.”
“Nope. According to his people, he has always been a doting father who adored his little girl. Alana’s grandma died when she was fourteen, and that’s when she moved back in with her folks.
Went to a fancy private school and then on to college before she started officially working for him.
But a reliable source said Carmichael had her working every spare hour she had from the minute she was living with them in Manhattan.
And the saddest thing is how much she seemed to love it.
‘That kid just loved being around her daddy’ is what I was told. ”
Why the hell did Carmichael make her out to be someone she’s not?
Did he think it made her a more attractive prospect if she was a spoiled socialite only interested in my money?
I’m ashamed to admit he would have been right—that kind of woman I never could have fallen for.
And our business arrangement would have remained solely that.
Foster Carmichael fucking played me.
While I’m pissed as hell, I can’t get too caught up in it. That would mean I’m not grateful for her presence in my life. Catching feelings for her was never the plan, but I would rather cut off all of my limbs than live without her now.
Jax looks over my shoulder and rolls his eyes, making me turn in my seat.
“Hey, Alejandro,” Keira purrs from beside me. “It’s not often we see you in here these days. That new wife of yours got you on a short leash?” She flutters her eyelashes.
As this is my hotel and there are customers all around us, I should probably be polite. But fuck that. She was a cruel bitch to Alana a few weeks ago, and I don’t give a fuck if she gets upset and makes a scene.
I signal her to lean in, and her eyes sparkle.
“Not on any kind of leash,” I say, my voice pleasant.
“But you know, I’ve never been with a woman who I actually enjoyed spending time with before.
I could fuck her every single second of every day and I still wouldn’t spend enough time with her.
So why don’t you take your fake tits and your fake smile and get the fuck away from me? ”
She blinks, shock all over her face. Then she gives an indignant huff and storms away. When I turn back to Jax, he’s grinning. “Ouch!”
I blow out a heavy breath. “She fucking deserved it.”
“I don’t doubt it, amigo.”
“Now, tell me, is there anything else I need to know about Alana?”
“Not a lot more to know. Seems she was a popular enough kid when she lived in Brooklyn. Never in the in-crowd, but she had a solid group of friends. Once she moved to Manhattan, her father made sure she was kept too busy for friends and all the other normal stuff teenagers do. She became a cog in the Carmichael administration machine.”
“Foster Carmichael is a lying, cheating cabrón,” I snarl. “He’s done nothing but manipulate and use Alana her whole life, and yet she thinks he’s some kind of fucking hero.”
“That’s politicians for you.” He downs his Scotch and holds up his glass. “You fancy another, amigo?”
I shake my head. “It’s late. Need to get home.”
Jax pats me on the back. “I’m going to find me some prettier company then. See you tomorrow.”
I recall a time I would have joined him in his bar-crawling and how I swore I could never be fulfilled by just one woman. Now one woman occupies my every waking thought. How does that even happen? Can one person really change another so much?
The answer is staring me in the face as I pass the mirrored lobby wall on my way to my car, eager to get home to my wife. Yes, they absolutely can.