Branded (Strand Brothers Series Book 1) (20 page)

Man, I must’ve really been out of it. I offered her a half-smile and explained, “Sorry. My mind’s in other places right now.”

She playfully smacked my shoulder. “Would you please get your head in the game?” She reached over and lifted my hair up off my neck. “Yeah, I think an up-do will be perfect.”

I shook my head slightly. “Seriously? ‘Cause I was thinking down and curly.”

“That’d be pretty, too.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Not like you won’t be breathtaking—whatever you decide will be spectacular.” She chuckled at my embarrassment. “Always humble. I’m a firm believer in, you got it flaunt it.”

I threw my head back and laughed from deep in my belly. No matter what, she could make me feel better. I spontaneously hugged her, hard. “I love you. You know that, right?”

She pulled back to wipe a tear from her cheek. “That’s enough with the mushy crap.” Then she stroked the side of my face. “I love you, too. Now, have you picked out a dress?”

I bit my lip as I nodded. “It’s online.”

“Did you order it?”

“No. I just wasn’t sure, y’know?”

“Yep, I get it. However if you’re walking down that aisle in a week, we need to do some serious shopping.”

“Are you saying…?”

“Definitely. Get off your butt. We’re going to the West Village.”

There was no containing my excitement as I squealed, “Yay!”

She linked her arm with mine. “Let’s go see what we can find.”

*****

As we entered the parking garage, I didn’t miss that we had a tail. Neither did Renée. She waggled her fingers at one of Nik’s security guys. He gave a curt nod, but continued to follow us. I glanced sideways and whispered, “Sorry.”

She smiled, “I’m not.”

Nonplussed, my brows rose. “Really? Why’s that?”

She answered, “Means he cares. And I, for one, like that about a man.”

Never had I let that thought cross my mind before. Yet she had a point. It was rather nice to know, that while away, Nik was still making sure I was protected. Yeah, being Mrs. Strand was not going to be a hardship—whatsoever.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Nik

Chicago messed with my head, in more ways than one, as thoughts of that masquerade grew stronger. Of course, staying at the same hotel as I had five years ago probably didn’t help curtail those memories. Then again, meeting with one of my lead executors and personal friend, Franco D’Arpino, didn’t help matters, either.

When I stepped into Franco’s opulent foyer, the sights and sounds of that particular night nearly blew me away. His wife, Gina, welcomed me with open arms. It had been her benefit for abused children which had brought me to this very house on the said night. Since Franco and my connection go all the way back to our time with LD’s corporation—a.k.a. gang—there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him. And that also meant for Gina. I embraced her warmly. She had always been a beauty, and the years had been kind. Her lovely raven hair with just a hint of silver, flowing down to her shoulder blades, was just as eye catching now as it was then.

Never one to hold back, she asked, “Where is your bride to be?” Her gorgeous Italian accent still warmed me.

I smiled, “Busy preparing for
our
wedding.”

“Ah, I see.”

I continued, “Will you two be able to join us?”

“But of course,” she replied, “We wouldn’t miss it.”

Franco gave her a meaningful look, and she politely excused herself. He turned to me. “Let’s talk in the study.”

I inclined my head as I followed him.

Although this meeting hadn’t been on my radar, ironically it felt good to be back around “family.” Once you are a part of LD—Lorenzo D’Arpino—it was forever. I had done everything within my power to turn the corporation into a legit powerhouse. But it didn’t change the facts: The ties were strong. Not to mention the only way out was through death. I had made sure there were no new recruits and kept everything legal. Franco had been instrumental in assisting with that venture. He was Lorenzo’s nephew; therefore, the one—through tradition—who should’ve inherited it all. But Lorenzo wanted new blood at the helm, and Franco was more than willing to bring that into fruition. Hence, once my debt had been paid for the help in prison, I took over. With the blessing of Lorenzo before he died, I renamed it Strand Industries. Franco was my lead man in Chicago. Unfortunately, he’d hit a stumbling block with a long, lost cousin, and it was time to handle things before the law got involved. Thus, the little cleaning house mission I was on.

After all the deets had been laid out, we made our collective decision on just how and where to deal with the wayward family member. I must admit, if only to myself, gratitude I wasn’t on the receiving end of that meet-and-greet ran thick. Been there, done that. On more than one occasion.
Yeah, being the head honcho had its perks.

Once business was settled, we went into the dinning room for dinner. Gina, as always, was a stupendous hostess. I actually looked forward to Aimee and her meeting officially, along with my team. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of Aimee joining ranks. She had a good head on her shoulders, and I knew we could put it to great use. As the food disappeared and the wine flowed, I decided to make an inquisition. “Gina?”

She glanced over. “Yes, Nikko.” Few people ever called me by my given name. And she was one of them.

I cleared my throat, not knowing just how to broach this topic. But it had been eating at me enough I knew I had too. “That masquerade you threw a few years back… Do you remember your guests? Or, by chance, still have the list?”

She beamed, “Why, it just so happens I keep all of my guest lists. Give me a moment; I’ll go find it for you.”

This was hopefully going to answer my question, once and for all.

We’d moved into the living room by the time Gina had found the particular list I was looking for. As she handed it to me, I tried to be nonchalant. But she knew me all too well. “Who are you searching for?” she queried while she sat next to me on the couch.

I did my best to avoid being forthcoming and replied, “I’ll know when I see the name.”

She had been raised around the Mob, therefore didn’t persist. “Let me know if I can be of any help.” Franco grabbed his wife’s hand and lifted it to his mouth. She giggled like a teenager and then excused herself. Once she had left the room, he picked up the discarded sheets I’d set aside. “What’s the name?”

I shook my head. “It wasn’t BS, my man.”

He shot me a wry grin. “So, a female.”

Geez, was I that transparent? I would neither concur nor deny. He chuckled, “Will you confide in me if you find her?”

Again, I didn’t capitulate. As I scanned the list of guests for Aimee’s name, there was nothing. A couple of names did stick out above the others: Ann and Jack Dubois. If memory served me correctly, they ran an escort service.
And look at that
, next to their names in parenthesis was: (guest A. Lockhart.) All of a sudden, my heart began to pound so hard I could hear nothing else. Could it really be? Surely, I would’ve remembered.
You did, dipshit. You’ve known all along.
I stood abruptly, the list scattering at my feet. Franco’s eyes widened. “Are you all right?”

“I’m sorry. I need to go,” I announced while I strode quickly across the room, almost knocking Gina over. As she entered with dessert on a tray, she inquired, “You’re leaving so soon?”

I bent to kiss her cheek. “Another time, I promise.”

“But…” She set the tray down on the coffee table and then ran after me. She placed her hand on my forearm. “You found who you were looking for,” she confirmed. “Is there any way we can help?”

Franco joined us at the front door. “Nik, whatever you need.”

Still in shock at my discovery, I nodded, “Thank you. I’ll be in touch.” With that, I rushed to the rental car and sped back to the hotel.

*****

When I entered my suite, only one thought went through my mind,
I found her.  Finally.
While part of me was elated, the other was horrified. The former was from years of searching for my mystery woman. With the latter, also came the question: How had I been intimate with Aimee and not been able to identify her? I would’ve sworn that was impossible. Yet, somehow I had missed it. And didn’t that suck ass. Geez, I hadn’t even made love to her. No, I fucked her in my kitchen and then left town. What a shithead.
Now, what do I do with this information?

It definitely changed things.

Dammit
.

I fell onto the bed as my knees gave out. Either I didn’t make as big of an impact on her that night as she did on me, or she hadn’t recalled it was me yet. Which was it? As I lay there, realization hit me like a ton of bricks—didn’t matter one way or the other. While I would be the first to confess, that night had been a game changer for me. Plus there was no denying the fact, each moment I spent with Aimee
only
made these feelings grow stronger. Problem still remained: My soul had been shattered. There wasn’t anything but pieces to share with her. Would it be enough? Didn’t she deserve a man that could completely give his heart to her? Yet now that I’d found her again, there was no way I was letting go.
Selfish MOFO.

*****

The dream of the masquerade gave me some hope until it morphed into the repetitive nightmare of the accident. Of course, that did not help my confusion with Aimee. Then the damn thing switched again, and I was back in prison. I awoke because of a blood curdling scream—
oh, that was me!
—and looked around frantically as I tried to get my bearings. Fuck. Who in their right mind would want to be saddled with a loser like me? Was there another option I hadn’t seen? As I stumbled across the room, I felt a chill. I glanced down at the sweat drenched shirt and realized just how much those nightmares screwed with my head. I peeled off my clothes and climbed into the shower, all the while thinking of another solution to the whole damn dilemma. I came up with…zilch. What the hell?! There was surely some other way. Though the harder I contemplated the options, the more I surmised: This was the correct course of action. Annnd didn’t that bite. Big time.

Truth was, marrying Aimee didn’t bother me one iota, although she deserved so much more. At that moment I made a vow: I would do everything in my power to be the best husband possible. Not that staying faithful was going to be a challenge. Hell no
.
The problem was, only a shell of a man had been left. However, if she would have me, then she’d have
all
of me. As for telling her what I’d discovered last night, not going to happen. Besides, I’d much rather she put two and two together herself. And if she never remembered, fine by me.

Yeah, I could live with that.

For the hundredth time since I had removed my mother’s wedding ring from the safe, I sat there staring at it in the light. A family heirloom and a remarkable piece of jewelry: with a round, brilliant-cut diamond in the center and six smaller diamonds on the sides; two carats total weight and set in textured platinum. Yes, I could easily afford bigger and flashier. But this one was sentimental. I was optimistic she would feel the same way. Even without the knowledge of whom I was from the masquerade a few years ago. Let’s hope so, at least. For me, now that I knew exactly who Aimee was it meant so much more.

*****

After I tied up all of the loose ends with Franco—as well as making sure Gina received my apology bouquet—I headed for the airport. Time to do this. By tomorrow evening, Aimee would be legally mine. Damn, if I didn’t like the sound of that. I did a mental fist pump, with a
hell yeah
tacked on for good measure, and boarded the company jet.

“All set, Mr. Strand?” the pilot asked.

“Yes, thank you,” I answered as I strapped in to the leather seat.

Once the plane took off, I made quick work of finding a perfect honeymoon location. We hadn’t discussed it. Until that moment, truthfully, I had not planned on one. Lucky for me Strand Industries owned several resorts. Yes, she was going to love my surprise. And heaven help me, but an honest to goodness smile broke across my face. The very thought of sharing everything I had with her made me an extremely happy man. I suddenly felt lighter, as if a heavy fog had just lifted. Peculiar. Not in a bad way, though.
Nah, it’s all good.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Caleb

One of the things I loved most was working off my frustrations. Yes, a good hard workout would definitely do the trick. After I arrived at the warehouse—which was owned by me, via a dummy corporation—I confirmed the area was locked down tight.

“All’s well, Joe?”

His smile was pure malevolence. “Yes, sir.”

Damn. The man was as into this as I was. From time to time I let him participate. Sometimes, I let him finish the job. But tonight I was in rare form. That bitch, Aimee, had put me in a mood. And it was time to get my head on straight.

When I walked into the locker room, I stripped down and took a much warranted shower. I had to get the feel of that
woman
off my skin. Yes, she was going to pay for deceiving me. However, she hadn’t been the first to pass herself off as my beloved. And I would deal with her appropriately, along with that bastard, Strand. I had had it with his knight in shining armor routine. As if my beautiful Rachel had ever been in danger from me. I could never, would never, have harmed her.

“
You were the one who killed me, Caleb.”
Rachel’s voice reminded me.

“We’ve been through this, my love. Nik was supposed to die that night, not you. Never you,” I appealed for the millionth time. Yet, she refused to listen. That was a woman for you—always had to have the upper hand in any given argument. “I love you,” I avowed. In my mind, she sat on the lovely chaise lounge and shook her head with disapproval. Someday, I knew, she would believe me.