Ash: You do care, asshole, even if you can’t admit it. It’s called traffic and I’m still not good at driving Bruiser. Finding a spot in the garage was a nightmare too. I’m thankful for my armored car at the moment because the orange eyesore I parked next to might door ding me when the driver goes to leave.
Me: You’d be doing mankind a favor if you’d take out Perry’s car too. Just saying. Also, who the fuck names their car?
Ash: Your adorable girlfriend does.
Me: Stop texting and get your ass to work, maid.
She sends me back a bunch of middle finger emojis making me laugh. Perry snorts, drawing my attention from my phone to my brother.
“What?” I demand.
“You. Just never seen you act like this before.”
“Act like what?”
I know this asshole isn’t about to say what I think he is. That I’m in love. Love is the farthest thing from what Ash and I have. I’d fallen victim to love once, and it nearly ended me. Meredith selfishly took my trust and crushed it beneath her size six Louboutin. I learned a great deal from that time in my life, and I’m not looking to repeat it ever again. Ash may have girlish fantasies about what this is and what we are, and my brother might be just as naïve, but I wouldn’t be where I’m at today if I didn’t learn to harden my heart against everyone and everything.
“In love.” Predictable bastard.
“Oh, fuck right off, Perry.”
He throws his head back, cracking up with laughter. “Maybe not yet, but mark my words, Ash is gonna be a Constantine one day. I’ll be a cool uncle. Teach your kid sailing and shit.”
“You won’t teach my kid sailing and shit,” I growl, my eye twitching at the idea of Perry teaching anyone how to sail.
“But you admit the hypothetical niece or nephew in this story belongs to you.”
I flip him off, ignoring his taunts.
“Will he look like Ash or you? I hope Ash. She’s cute. You’re fucking ugly.”
His taunting doesn’t rile me up like he attempts to do. Instead, I send Duncan Baldridge an email to get me the details of anything he can regarding the local businesses and the Morelli’s involvement. Once I’ve sent the email, I wave Perry off.
“Go bother Nate. I have work to do.”
“Sure thing, Daddy,” he jokes. “I wonder what colors Ash will want for the wedding.”
Dumbass.
I don’t reward him with a verbal response, just a roll of my eyes which has him cackling all the way out of my office.
Someone should fire his slacker ass.
12
Ash
I’m grinning as I enter the lobby of the gorgeous building. Winston misses me and is worried about me. That shouldn’t elate me as much as it does. It’s not like I don’t know it to be truth. He stood up for me to Manda and Dad. Bought me a freaking car. Showers me with gifts.
You worked for those, dummy.
I don’t let my inner ramblings take away from my good mood. This morning, I’d been surprised to see Dad so attentive. It was like old times—before Manda and the Terror Triplets. Back when Dad and I were close as could be. His worry for me was palpable and must have been intimidating enough that the triplets didn’t show their faces this morning.
I step onto the elevator, not paying attention to those around me. Someone bumps into me from behind and grabs my elbow to steady me. But they don’t let go.
“Get off on the sixteenth floor and go to the women’s restroom.” The voice is low and deep. Familiar.
My skin crawls when I turn and meet the terrifying glare of Leo Morelli. The same man who’s been haunting my dreams and has me looking over my shoulder ever since the night of Winston’s birthday party. I’m disgusted I once thought him attractive. It’s true, he’s a gorgeous man, but the evil runs deep in his blood. I can see it in his dark eyes.
“If I don’t?” I challenge, my voice a mere whisper.
“You will.”
The menacing threat in his words has me obeying. I nearly stumble out of the elevator on the sixteenth floor, which appears to be a residential floor, making a beeline for the restrooms. I’m considering my options when Leo follows me inside.
“In the stall,” he growls.
“What are you going to do?” I demand, holding a palm out like it might stop a grown-ass man from pouncing on me and taking what he wants.
“Not that.” He laughs and points. “We’re going to have a chat.”
Swallowing down my fear, I step into the handicapped stall. He pushes into the stall with me, shoving the door closed behind him and locking it. I bite back a whimper when he crowds me, forcing my back against the wall.
“Don’t touch me.” My glare meets his as I try and show him I’m not afraid. The tremble rippling through me gives me away.