Risk (It's Complicated Book 2) (5 page)

“I said, I want to know why you let me spend three years of my life—”

“PUT IT DOWN, MAYA!” Carolyn yelled.

On the other end of the line, there was a huge, wet, crashing sound, quickly followed by Carolyn yelling and Maya crying.

Angela cursed and shook her head. Unbelievable.

“I’ve got to go,” Carolyn said. “Maya just knocked the flowers off the table.”

Of course she did. That little devil’s spawn had more arms than an octopus family reunion and a reach to make George Foreman weep with envy. For God’s sake, why couldn’t Carolyn put her foot down with Maya every now and then and whip her into shape? The child was three and a half years old, and she ran their whole household. Who was the parent over there? Anyone?

“Well, I need you right now, Carolyn! I’m having a personal crisis here, and I need a little of your time!”

“I’m doing the best I can, Angela!” In the background Maya’s crying increased ten points in volume, and Carolyn’s voice began to sound a little wobbly, as though she was on the verge of her own meltdown. “I can’t be everything to everyone all the time!”

It really was a shame, Angela reflected sadly, the way motherhood had reduced Carolyn to this high-strung, shrieking mess. Angela remembered a time, not so long ago, when Carolyn had been a wildly successful bond trader. She’d worn power suits and talked in complete sentences and read the newspaper. What had happened to that sophisticated human being?

If she was ever lucky enough to become a mother (which, thanks to Ron’s abandonment, she probably
wouldn’t
, but that was beside the point right now), Angela vowed she’d do it much better than
this
.

Carolyn sniffled and spoke calmly now, her tone conciliatory. “Look. My car’s still in the shop, but maybe V.J. can drop me off over there after dinner and we can talk for a while. He can take Maya to the mall or something. Okay?”

“Fine,” Angela said, slightly mollified. “By the way, before I forget to mention it, I saw Justus last night. What’s he been up to?”

“Oh, he just opened his gym,” Carolyn said. “He’s pretty excited about that. Still screwing every woman in sight. Same as always.”

Angela laughed. “That’s what I figured. I’ll see you later.”

But Angela never spoke to her sister again.

“
U
h-oh
!”

Flapping her arms to keep her balance, Justus’s client (twenty-something; cute; sweet; well south of smart) made a dramatic and probably staged fall off the BOSU ball. Justus reflexively caught her, which gave her the opening he knew she’d been looking for the whole training session: she threw her hands onto his biceps, squeezed hard, and thrust her titties against his chest. The hard little points of her nipples were unmistakable, as was the invitation in her hot eyes and the seductive smile on her glossy lips.

“Sorry,” she said, stepping closer.

Justus tried not to grimace.

“No problem.” He set her to rights, stepped back, smiled coolly, and pointedly checked his watch. “Let’s be more careful next time. Try not to lose focus, okay? I think we’re done for today.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. “What about Monday?”

Justus stooped to pick up the ball, walked across the blue exercise mat, and put it with its mates over in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Turning back, he picked up his water bottle from the weight bench and took a long sip while dredging up a diplomatic answer.

Which was getting harder and harder to do every time a client tried to hit on him.

Giving her a dispassionate and discreet once-over, he sighed. If they’d met in, say, a club, and it was a slow night, he’d have no objections to a quick hookup. He was only human, right? But he hadn’t met her in a club. She was a client. At the exercise studio he now owned. Where he had many female clients, a few female employees, and no plans to piss in his own fucking pool. He couldn’t think of a quicker way to ruin his reputation and torpedo employee morale than by failing to keep his shit in his pants and acting like a fool just because the opportunity presented itself. Kept presenting itself.

So, yeah, thanks, but no thanks, little cutie.

“The beginning of the week’s pretty tight,” he said firmly. “But if you check
at the desk
, I think I have a cancellation on Thursday afternoon.”

“Oh,” she said again. “If you think that’s soon enough...”

“Absolutely.” He held his hand wide to indicate she should head to the door. “I’ll walk you down.”

He watched as she glumly gathered her high-end gym bag and hiked up her skintight yoga pants until they
almost
reached her belly button. Her negligible bra top similarly left nothing to the imagination. This girl did
not
believe in subtlety. Her whole committed-exerciser routine would be much more convincing if only she’d actually exercised while she was here, but breaking a sweat did not appear to be one of her goals. She was only twenty-one and time was on her side, at least for now. Little did she know that in a few years she’d really have to work to keep her shape.

The thought of her drenched with sweat after an hour on a treadmill was strangely cheering.

He was sick of clients like this one—and a lot of them seemed to be just like this one—who saw coming to the gym as a chance to see their friends, show off their new hundred-dollar outfits, and seduce him. He wouldn’t be surprised if some of these little babies—he sometimes thought of younger women as babies because a lot of them were silly and vacant—had made a bet among themselves to see who could seduce him first. He wished he could post a sign on the front door informing them they were wasting their time.

But he had to be nice. They paid their membership dues and put food on his table.

Justus trailed behind her down the steps to the second floor, performing a silent inventory as he went. On the plus side, the gym was in full Saturday morning swing, thank God; exercisers occupied all the treadmills, ellipticals, and bikes. The mirror along the main wall sparkled, fingerprint free, as did the tall windows, where the bright sunlight streamed in. The powerful beat of Jay Z kept the energy level high. In the hallway the hardwood floors gleamed with polish. Across the way in the converted parlor, spinners groaned and struggled to keep up with the instructor, who barked out orders like Lou Gossett Jr. in
An Officer and a Gentleman
.

On the minus side, the stairs still creaked. That was the thing about this old Victorian house. Sure, it had been a steal, and it made an interesting place for an exercise studio. But even though they’d finished the major renovations already, there was always another creak, leak, or break that demanded his attention. And his money. Luckily Brian, his silent partner, had deeper pockets than he did, courtesy of a bequest from his grandmother.

He’d just turned to go down the second flight to the first floor lobby area when he saw V.J. barreling up the steps toward him, shoulders squared, his mouth compressed into a tight line. At the top of the landing he looked around, caught Justus’s eye, and glowered.

Ah, shit
. That was quick. Crossing his arms, he scowled at V.J.

His client stared, wide-eyed, at them. “Well...bye, Justus,” she said, scurrying down the steps.

“Bye.”

V.J. came closer. “Got a minute?” he asked sharply.

“Not really.” Justus continued down the steps to the lobby, where the receptionist sat at her post answering phones. To the right, clients occupied every table in the smoothie bar, and a steady stream of people came and went out of the locker rooms.

“This won’t take long,” V.J. said, hot on his heels.

Cursing, Justus went into his office, leaned a hip on the side of his desk, and watched while V.J. slammed the door.

“What’s the problem, man?”

“Where were you last night?” V.J. barked.

Justus picked up a file from his desk and rifled through it, seeing nothing. “Eating dinner. Why?”

“We were counting on you to come for Pop’s birthday dinner.”

Justus shot him a quick glance. “Why would you do that? I told Carolyn I wouldn’t be there.”

V.J. snatched the file and tossed it to the desk. “How long are you gonna keep up this wounded son routine? How many more birthdays do you think he’s got left? His heart’s—”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. The old man’s heart’s been acting up for years, and he’s still the same as—”

“He’s not! He’s sick!” V.J. roared.

That shut Justus up. He couldn’t ever remember seeing V.J. so pissed off before.

“No one lives forever!” A vein began to throb in V.J.’s temple, startling Justus even further. “How many chances do you think you’re gonna get, man?”

Planting his hands on the desk, Justus hung his head for a moment and collected his thoughts. He had no intention of falling for his brother’s little guilt trip, although the temptation was definitely there.

“Cut the drama. He enjoyed his birthday more without me. Trust me.”

V.J. looked to the ceiling, maybe hoping to see instructions for dealing with Justus scrawled on the white paint.

“If Mama were here—”

As usual, a sharp bolt of pain sliced through Justus’s chest at the mention of his mother.

“Don’t bring her into this,” he warned softly.

V.J. seemed to realize he’d gone too far and took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to regret this one day. That’s all.”

The beseeching note in his brother’s voice was hard to resist, as was the faint glimmer of hope in V.J.’s expression.

Dammit
.

Justus heaved a harsh sigh.

No one spoke.

Finally V.J. cleared his throat. “Maya’s been asking about you.”

Justus’s heart swelled at the mention of the little angel—the clear love of his life thus far—and all his anger instantly evaporated.

“Tell her I’ll be by tomorrow to take her for lunch at the mall. She liked that last time.”

Relaxing, he dropped into his high-backed leather chair and swung his feet onto the desk.

V.J. settled onto the edge of the desk. “Just don’t let her talk you into buying her another one of those stupid makeup kits. Those things make a big mess.”

“You got it.”

More silence.

Now that the storm had passed, Justus’s mind veered back to Angela, where it’d been since he saw her last night, and his heart rate kicked up several notches. Fingering his cup of pens, he strove for a detached, clinical tone.

“I saw your sister-in-law with some guy last night at dinner. She seemed pretty upset.”

V.J.’s expression soured. “You must have seen the fireworks. Her jackass boyfriend dumped her. I think she thought he’d give her a ring at Christmas.”

“Hmmm,” Justus said, his thoughts spinning. So that was what’d happened. “Who is this punk?”

“An internist over at University. We never knew what Angela saw in him.”

“Huh.”

Justus meant to drop it, but something in his tone or on his face must have alerted V.J., because his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Why do you ask?” he asked sharply.

“No reason,” Justus said with as much nonchalance as he could muster, which was about a microgram.

V.J., who had an annoying sixth sense bordering on omniscience where Justus was concerned, gaped at him.

“Oh,
hell
no.” He jabbed a finger in Justus’s face. “Don’t even
think
about it. She’s just been dumped and she doesn’t need
you
trying to get in her panties.”

Justus felt his blood start another slow boil. V.J. acted like he was the Jack the Ripper. He had a rich history with women, true, but he didn’t deserve the look V.J. was giving him.

“I don’t see what the problem is. We’re both grown-ups.”

“Angela isn’t one of your little hoochies, Justus!” V.J. roared. “She’s a great woman and she’s vulnerable right now! What the hell am I gonna tell my wife if you try to fuck her sister?”

Justus seethed in silence, unable to think of a single thing to say in his own defense.

V.J. was right, of course.

His intentions weren’t exactly honorable.

He’d never believed in fate, but fate or something like it had dropped Angela back into his life, and he planned to take full advantage of this opportunity.

Because he wanted her.
Still
wanted her. He’d thought about her a lot over the years, wondering what she was doing and whether he’d imagined how beautiful and sexy she was. Well, now he knew. She was, if anything, more stunning than he’d remembered. And she still felt right in his arms—her little gratitude hug and kiss last night had proved that.

So even though he felt bad she’d had her heart broken, he planned to make the most of the situation. He would be gentle and patient, and do the romance thing if she wanted. Or he could just go straight to being her rebound fling. But either way, he planned to get Angela Dennis into his bed and keep her there for a while. Because ten years ago he’d promised himself one day he would make love to her, and it was time to collect.

V.J. stared thoughtfully at him, then flashed a smug smile that made Justus want to punch several of his teeth out.

“
What?
”

“On second thought,” V.J. said, “I’m not going to worry about it. You know why? Because you’re not her type, my brother. In fact, I have a better chance of shitting gold bullion than you do of seducing Angela.”

“We’ll see,” Justus said through clenched teeth.

Laughing, V.J. opened the door and walked out. “I can’t wait.”

Justus grabbed a fluffy white towel from the top of his file cabinet and hurled it. “Punk!”

The towel caught V.J. squarely on the back of the head but, without missing a beat, he kicked it aside and disappeared down the hall.

And that was the last time Justus ever saw his brother alive.

* * *

I
t’s not true
. There’s been a mistake. God would never do this.

The words looped through Angela’s head as she shuffled, exhausted, back into her darkened apartment that evening.

It’s not true. There’s been a mistake. God would never do this.

She flicked on a light and saw that nothing there had changed in the two hours since she’d been at the hospital.

Since she’d answered the phone. Why had she answered the phone? Maybe if she hadn’t, none of this would have happened.

Ms. Dennis? I’m so sorry...There’s been an accident...

Two hours had passed, and now life as she’d known it was over.

Two
hours
.

Her throat and chest burned with tightness, suffocating her. Her head pounded. Even her bones felt like they were screaming.

Would she pass out from her broken heart? God, she hoped so. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with this pain, at least for a few minutes.

But then she felt a movement beside her, and she remembered. God hadn’t taken everything after all. She wasn’t alone, nor was she the only one who suffered right now. Someone else had lost far more than she had tonight.

“Come on, Maya. Let’s have a seat.”

She took her niece’s tiny, soft hand and led her to the sofa, praying for strength with each step she took. She could do this. She would do this. She had to. For Carolyn. She would not cry, and she would not shout at God. There was plenty of time for falling apart later. Right now, she had to break her three-and-a-half-year-old niece’s heart and tell her that both of her parents were dead.