Bad Influence, page 18
“I never did anything to make them hate me,” she said, regretting the words the second they left her lips. Too late. “Other than being the hired help.”
“I know.” He touched her shoulder.
She jammed her key into the lock and opened the door. The apartment was silent as they entered, their footsteps echoing on the floorboards. It only took a few minutes to establish that they were alone. And that her apartment appeared not to have been touched.
You have a high-profile ex, it seems. I don’t have to release this information. Shut the website down. Issue an apology to all the people you’ve hurt.
Mr. Justice’s words ran over and over in her head.
“I want to know what she said. What she actually said.”
Why was she fixating on this? Maybe because it delayed the moment when she had to confess to Joseph that she’d put his career on the firing line. That as much as Bad Bachelors had its upside, she’d started it with hatred in her heart.
It doesn’t matter how it started. It matters how it is now. The good you want to do now.
“Do you really want to get into this, Annie?”
This was the old Joseph she remembered—back straight, chin forward, eye contact unwavering. The beard gave him an extra level of toughness. He had the posture of someone who’d been in the military. Though, she supposed, living under Morris Preston’s rule probably wasn’t that different from living with a drill sergeant.
“I do.” She swallowed and mentally prepared herself for the sting of his mother’s words.
He made a gesture with his hand as if to say It’s your funeral, and then he sucked in a breath. “She said I deserve to be with someone who wants to be part of my family and who fits in with my lifestyle.”
No matter how hard Annie braced herself for the criticism, it still hurt like hell when the blow landed. Of course, by fitting in with their lifestyle, Melinda was referring to the fact that Annie had never known which fork to use in their multiple-course dinners and that she’d laughed too loudly and worn the wrong things. Because people actually stuck to the “no white after Labor Day” rule. Yeah, right.
She shrugged out of her coat and hung it on the stand next to the front door. “They assumed we were back together? Interesting.”
“Well, you were at my apartment,” he said. Joseph was still in his coat, his red scarf bunched in one hand. “While I wasn’t there.”
“I suppose you putting Morris in his place didn’t help.”
“No, it did not.”
“What else did she say?”
He eyed her warily. “Just that she wanted to protect me.”
Wow. That was quite a comment. His parents had done nothing but hurt him—always putting their careers before their only child. Always pushing and pushing and pushing, piling on expectations until Joseph’s shoulders sagged from the weight of them. Always teaching him to swallow his feelings.
The sad thing was, Annie had looked up to Melinda Landry. The woman was everything she’d wanted to become—successful, elegant, smart. As much as Annie loved her mother, she’d wanted the kind of success Melinda had. A thriving career, to break through glass ceilings. To be a businesswoman admired for her brains.
But Melinda had never returned Annie’s admiration. No matter how many genuine questions she’d asked and no matter how many times she’d shown interest in Melinda’s work. Annie had always suspected it was more about Melinda maintaining the peace with her husband than anything Annie had done.
“And what did you say?” she asked.
“That I thought she was more concerned with protecting her money than me.” His face didn’t show an ounce of hurt, but she knew it was there. Lurking beneath the surface like a sea monster, waiting for the right time to rear its ugly head. “And that we weren’t together.”
“I’m glad you clarified.” Was she, really? Because it didn’t feel like that. “The relationship is over, and I’m still causing you problems with your family.”
“They’re causing themselves problems by not minding their own goddamn business.”
Annie held her hand out and gestured to Joseph’s scarf and coat.
His blue eyes searched her face. It was like being scanned by a laser. “You want me to stay?”
“What, are you sick of playing bodyguard already?” She tucked her hair behind her ear, and he frowned. Dammit, she needed to stop being so obvious.
“Thought you might be sick of me hanging around.”
They were circling each other. It was horrible being in limbo, not knowing whether to walk away or to stay and touch the flame like she so badly wanted. And her guilt hung heavy, like a thick chain around her neck.
“I should be.” Her mouth was as dry as cotton wool. She stepped forward, reaching for his scarf again, but when her fingers clasped the soft cashmere, he didn’t relinquish it.
So much for “What happens in the shower stays in the shower.” Have you got an emotional death wish or something?
“Should?” He stilled like a hunter tracking a deer, his gaze holding her captive. Melting her defenses.
How did he do that? He made her feel like everything was right when it most certainly wasn’t. He made her crave the security of his arms, the soothing balm of his kiss. Made her desperate for his touch because it blanked out all the messed-up, self-deprecating thoughts in her head.
She tightened her grip on the scarf. “I’m not sick of you playing bodyguard.”
“Are you planning to screw me and then send me to bed alone?” His voice was rich and deep, like top-shelf whiskey and dark chocolate. His cologne mingled with the faded scent of rain on his skin, and she drew it deep into her lungs.
“What if I am?” she whispered.
“I don’t want that.”
“You seemed totally fine about it last night.”
“Let’s say I had an epiphany. I thought I could keep things casual, but I can’t.” He wrapped the scarf around his hand and yanked it toward him, bringing her closer. “This isn’t just fucking to me. It can’t ever be just fucking with you.”
God. Why did he have to say things like that? It was so tempting to believe. So tempting to let herself be fooled. Her lip trembled. “That’s all I’m offering.”
“It’s not enough.” Another yank. She was almost toe-to-toe with him now. “Think what you want about me, Annie. But I didn’t leave because I didn’t care. I didn’t leave because I stopped loving you.”
No, please stop…
“I left because it was too hard to love you. Because loving you made me feel like I was splitting myself in half.”
Dammit. Why did he suddenly have to be good at saying what he felt? Why couldn’t he have done this three years ago? She squeezed her eyes shut. That was exactly how she’d felt—constantly trying to keep his family happy and failing. Trying to keep her family happy and hurting him in the process.
“No,” she whispered. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“You will hear it,” he growled. “Goddammit, Annie. I loved you so much I didn’t know how to control it.”
“You’re not supposed to control it.” She released the scarf, but his hand encircled her wrist before she could get away. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? We’re both control freaks, and love is free-falling. It’s crashing on your ass, and it’s messy and painful—”
“And glorious.”
It had been the most glorious thing in all her life. But love was also like being Icarus. And that’s how every dream and hope she’d had for love and life had burned to the ground.
“Then why did you propose to someone else, huh? Was that glorious too?” She tried to tug out of his grip, but he held her fast. Tears burned in her eyes, but she’d be damned if she shed a single one in front of him.
“It was a mistake.” He shook his head. “I should never have done it. I ended up making a fool of myself and hurting her in the process.”
“Did you love her?” Annie didn’t want to feel the sharp snap of jealousy whenever she thought of him with another woman, but there was no escaping it.
“For a second, I thought I did. But I realized I was making the same mistake as when I left here,” he said. “I let my parents get into my head. But it wasn’t love.”
Her knees almost buckled. The day she’d seen the announcement of their engagement, Annie had wept on her sofa for hours. The shot of Joseph looking proud and handsome, with a stunning woman on his arm, was only made more painful by the close-up shot of the ring. The familiar hunk of stone. It was supposed to mean something. A future. A symbol of a bond.
“I regret proposing to her. I regret…hurting her.” For once, Joseph’s slick demeanor wasn’t to be found. His eyes burned brightly like blue flames, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “She didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”
“You broke up with her?”
“She called it off, actually.” He released her hand, but she didn’t step back.
“Why?”
“She said she could never compete with you.”
The air evaporated in her lungs. “She couldn’t compete with me?”
How were they even on the same plane of existence? Annika Van Beek was the type of person Joseph should have married. She had the social standing, the family pedigree, the looks. And as much as the photos could be trusted, it’d looked as though she was infatuated with him.
“She said I hadn’t let you go, and she didn’t want to live in another woman’s shadow.” He let out a harsh laugh and rubbed a hand over his beard. “And she was right. I hadn’t let you go. I wasn’t ready to be with someone else.”
The confession wrenched in Annie’s chest, ripping her old stitches open and undoing all the work she’d put into moving on. But as much as she wanted to resist, the damage was done.
“What are you doing, Joseph? Are you toying with me?”
“No.” He brushed her hair behind her ears. “You used to tell me all the time I was like a vault. I never gave anything away.”
“I did say that.” She let him tip her face up to his.
“So I’m setting the record straight. This isn’t a booty call. It won’t ever be like that between us.” His lips brushed the corner of her mouth. “If you can’t handle that, then tell me to stop.”
Stop.
Her mind screamed it loud and clear, but her mouth was frozen as his lips burned a path along her jaw and down her neck. Deft fingers slid along the back of her head, sliding between strands of her hair and holding her captive.
Don’t stop.
* * *
His lips parted hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth as he walked her past the couch toward the huge windows. Even with their eyes closed and hands occupied, they navigated the space with ease. He knew every inch of this place, despite the furnishings being different now. More importantly, he knew that Annie loved nothing more than the cold press of glass against her back.
When they’d walked into the apartment, they hadn’t needed the lights. But the sun had sunk low, and the city was starting to shine as darkness settled over them.
Joseph was tightly coiled—the past and present fusing together until it was impossible to untangle them. Annie let out a soft gasp as she bumped against the glass. Planting one hand next to her head, he spread his fingers wide. Rain splattered, coating the outside of the window in glossy droplets.
“You haven’t told me to stop,” he said.
As much as it would kill him to walk away now, waking up tomorrow and having her regret it would be worse. But for once in his life, he needed to man the fuck up and be honest with her. For too long, he’d let his upbringing stifle his ability to communicate. And it had ruined them. Ruined any chance they might’ve had at happiness. And running hadn’t fixed a goddamn thing.
“I don’t want you to stop,” she said, her hands coming to the hem of her cashmere sweater. The fabric lifted up to reveal her trim waist, then the pale-pink lace of her bra as she whipped the sweater over her head. “Whatever it means to you is your business.”
The fabric hit the floor, and her hands automatically went to the fly of her pants.
“I’ve told you what it means,” he replied. The sound of her zipper being undone cut through the air. “And I’m not going to play this game if you think you can shut me out afterward.”
Her hips wriggled as she pushed the fabric down her legs. Her dark gaze speared him like a lance to the heart. “You’re seriously telling me you’ll walk away unless I agree to cuddle afterward?”
“I wasn’t thinking about cuddling as much as burying my face between your legs in the middle of the night.” He watched as she continued to undress, peeling her pink panties down her legs and then reaching behind her back for the clasp of her bra. The action made her breasts thrust forward. “I want to fall asleep with those perfect breasts pressed against my chest and those legs tangled with mine. I want to wake you up with my lips on your skin, and I want to pull you on top of me while you’re still half-asleep.”
She stood naked before him, shadows playing off her porcelain skin. Her nipples were rosy and pointed, her skin dotted with goose bumps. Dark, soft curls highlighted the apex of her thighs. But her eyes were the giveaway—the blackness of her pupils eating away the rich brown irises he loved so much. They shimmered, alight with a potent mixture of defiance and excitement.
“I want to see your fists curling into the bedsheets when you come.” His hand was still planted next to her head. His body growing hot beneath his suit and coat. The contrast of him being fully dressed next to her nakedness made it feel even more illicit. “I want to hear that sexy, raspy sound you make when my name is the first thing out of your mouth in the morning.”
She tipped up her nose to him. “This is just sex. Nothing more.”
“Will thinking that help you sleep better at night?”
“Going to bed alone will help me sleep better.” Her voice didn’t give him an inch.
Joseph leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite then.”
He turned and walked through the apartment, stopping to pick up his scarf from the floor. Annie hadn’t made a move to get dressed and remained standing, staring him down. Her shapely figure was silhouetted against the Manhattan skyline, and it was possibly the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
But trying to ignore what he really wanted was what had gotten him in trouble in the first place. She could huff and puff, but he wasn’t going to sleep with her if she wanted him to act like it meant nothing. He’d rather go home and take a cold shower.
Or twenty.
At least being at home would prevent him from thinking with his dick in the middle of the night.
“Don’t answer the door for anyone but me,” he said. “I’ll call when I’m on my way over first thing in the morning.”
She didn’t say a word as he pulled the apartment door open and let it swing shut behind him.
Chapter 14
“Dear Bad Bachelors, I won’t be using your site anymore. Thanks to you, I’m getting engaged to the man of my dreams, all because you gave me the courage to ask him out!”
—BadBachelorsSupporter
Annie’s heart pounded as she paid the cab driver and then stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of her parents’ place in Bensonhurst. After a night of tossing and turning, she needed to sift through the crap in her head and figure out what to do next.
So she’d fired off a text to Joseph, telling him she’d gone to stay with her parents and not to bother coming over. Her boss would probably flip that she was bailing on work for another day, but she hadn’t taken a single day off this year so she had plenty of vacation days racked up.
Besides, she couldn’t face being in the office, not with everything hanging over her. When was the last time she’d had so many competing emotions? So much uncertainty? Not in eons.
Maybe because you’ve tried your hardest not to feel anything at all for the last three years?
She glanced down at her phone. No response from Mr. Justice after she’d asked him for more time. She didn’t want to close down Bad Bachelors, but she didn’t want Joseph to suffer either. Why had all her biggest life decisions felt like that? Like choosing between her and him?
The one thing that always helped her sort out her feelings was talking with her mom.
Annie stuffed her phone into her bag and looked up at the house. It was similar to every other one on this street—semidetached, about ten years late for a new paint job, and still worth over a million. Not that her parents would ever move. They were the kind of people who committed. Forever.
The sound of her boots echoed in the quiet street as she jogged up the steps to the front door. It was early, seven in the morning. But her parents would have been up for an hour at least. She couldn’t remember a time when they’d slept in past six, even on the weekends. Her stepfather usually tried to be at the café by seven thirty to open at eight. And her mother still prepared a proper breakfast every morning.
The doorbell made a shrill sound inside the house, and a second later, the door swung open. “Bella?”
“Hi, Dad.”
Sal’s deep frown was enough to bring the onslaught of tears she’d been doing her best to fight ever since she got out of bed that morning. They rolled fat and hot onto her cheeks, streaming down to her chin. His arms were around her in a second, her face pressed against his threadbare undershirt, her tears soaking through the fabric. The bristly scratch of his mustache was comforting and familiar against her head, and the smell of him—like coffee grounds and Drakkar Noir—helped what was left of her emotional guard come crashing down.
