Author: Roni Loren
“I don’t give a shit what you’re in the mood for,” she said, her expression pinched. “You’re trying to leave me destitute, and I’m not about to sit back and let you.”
“Oh, give me a fucking break. Destitute?” He looked at her diamond earrings and the Rolex circling her wrist. “You haven’t worked in the last five years, and you’re living with a guy who drags in twice what I was making when we were married. I don’t think you’ll be standing in the soup line any time soon.”
“Greg’s money is not mine. He doesn’t believe in marriage, so our accounts are separate. And after all the hell you put me through in our marriage, you owe me this. I was there when you built that store. It’s half mine.”
Jace closed his eyes, counted to five. I will not yell at a woman in public. I will not grab her by her shoulders and shake her. “Leave, Diana. I don’t owe you a damn thing. We’ll deal with this through the courts.”
She pulled a manila folder from her purse and set it on the table between them. “You’re not the only one who can hire a private investigator, asshole.”
He glanced down at the folder as she peeled back the cover. On top was the photo of him and Evan on the balcony—the one that had been released to the press.
Red leaked into his vision, blinding him with the flood of rage. He gripped the edge of the table, breathing through all the things he wanted to scream.
“You conniving bitch,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Does this make you mad?” she asked coyly. “Now that my ex-husband is trying to take my money, I had to go find funds somewhere else. And his slutty new girlfriend was quite convenient for giving the PI fodder.”
Jace slammed his fist on the table, the noise blending into the loud music. “You call her that one more time and I swear to God . . .”
Diana flipped the photo to the side, cutting off Jace’s threat and revealing another picture beneath. He and Evan at Christmas back when she was still living with his family.
Shit. Diana knew.
Another flip. A black-and-white photo of a teenage Evan standing by a window. Jace frowned. He didn’t recognize the location, but Evan looked the same as when she’d run away, her hair just a little longer. His gaze tracked down the picture and froze. Evan’s waistline was rounded, peeking out of the bottom of her T-shirt.
He went cold all over.
Diana smiled. “Guess my PI is better than yours. Did you know your little girlfriend was investigated for a pornography ring? They have a whole file on her. Apparently, she learned her photography skills in a not-so-traditional way.” She tapped the picture. “And, huh, wonder where that baby ended up?”
Jace barely heard what Diana was saying. The sounds and lights of the bar swirled around him in a haze as things crashed together in his mind. “Why are you doing this?”
She leaned forward on the table, hawk-eyeing him. “The website gave me fifty thousand for that first picture. Imagine what they would give me for these.”
No. No way would he let Evan be exposed like that. She’d lose everything.
He pressed his fingers against his temples. “Tell me what you want.”
She leaned back, the face he once thought of as pretty looking like a twisted nightmare. “Five hundred thousand dollars. You give me that, I give you all the information I have. And I’ll relieve you of alimony.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “Half a million? You’re out of your damn mind, woman. I don’t have that kind of money lying around.”
“But your daddy does.”
His stomach turned, the implication of her words crawling through him like a deadly virus.
She didn’t just want money.
She wanted to destroy him. To make him grovel before his father and lose the business he worked so hard to build.
To win.
And with Evan’s reputation on the line, he was going to let her.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Andre crossed his arms and sighed heavily as he leaned back against the bar. “How much has he had?”
Eddie, the bartender, checked the tab. “Enough. His ex stopped by, and he switched from beer to whiskey after she left. I was going to call a cab, but figured I’d try you first.”
Andre nodded, watching Jace from across the busy dance floor. Jace lifted his glass and swigged from it, his throat working as he downed it. Andre shook his head. Whiskey. Not a good sign. Jace wasn’t a big drinker, so anything besides beer meant he was chasing demons.
Andre swiped a hand across his face. He’d hoped to not have to talk to Jace for a while. To give them both some space. Telling him how he felt had been a world-class mistake, and seeing Jace completely shut down around him afterward had damn near killed him. In one swing, Andre had knocked out his chance for more with Jace and irrevocably wounded a longtime friendship. Wham. Done.
But when Eddie had called him, Andre couldn’t bring himself to turn his back and send Jace home in a cab. So here he was. Like some asshole who didn’t know when to quit.
Andre pushed his way through the throng on the dance floor and slid into the booth. Jace lifted his gaze from his empty glass and winced when he saw it was Andre.
Perfect. He was cringe-worthy now.
Andre cleared his throat. “Look, I get that I’m not who you want to talk to right now, so you don’t have to say anything. But it’s time to get out of here. Eddie’s cutting you off and sending you home.”
“She had a kid,” Jace said, his words slurring together.
Andre frowned. Great. Drunk and babbling nonsense. Fun times. “Who? Diana?”
Jace shook his head, a slow move that seemed to take all his effort. “No. She had a kid. My kid.”
Andre blew out a breath. “Come on, man. Let’s get out of here. I think the whiskey’s talking.”
Jace shoved the empty glass out of the way. “I’ve fucked up everything. I always do.”
Oh, Lord. This was going nowhere good, fast. Andre climbed out of the booth and hooked an arm under Jace’s. “Enough. Let’s go, amigo. Whatever’s going on, we’ll figure it out in the morning.”
Luckily, Jace didn’t resist. Andre led him to his car, helped him in, and locked the seatbelt around him. Jace didn’t say a word. Just kept a pensive look on his face—like he was trying to do trigonometry equations without a calculator. Andre had no idea what had passed between Jace and Diana, but apparently it had been more than an alimony discussion.
Andre wanted to ask. Wanted to help Jace with whatever was giving him that look. But the gap between them had yawned wide over the past few days. And Andre doubted there would ever be a bridge back to the comfortable relationship they’d had. So he stayed silent and counted the blocks between stoplights.
Twenty minutes later, Andre had Jace back at their loft. No, Jace’s loft, Andre reminded himself. This wasn’t going to be his home anymore.
Jace had sobered a bit on the ride home and was able to keep steady on his feet for the most part, but Andre helped him to his room anyway. He told himself it was because he didn’t want Jace falling and cracking his head open. That is wasn’t because he simply enjoyed having his arm around him. God, he was fucking pathetic.
He helped Jace to the edge of the bed and then crouched down to pull off Jace’s shoes.
“Why are you moving out?” Jace asked, his words less slurred but still rolling lazily off his tongue.
Andre looked up to meet Jace’s intent stare. The green of his eyes swirled with so many things, Andre didn’t even attempt to try to pick an emotion. Drunk. That was the emotion, he reminded himself. “You know why.”
Jace put a hand on Andre’s shoulder, leaning in with some pressure. Despite the fact that he knew Jace was acting out of his head, the effect of having Jace over him in that position had Andre’s cock stirring to awareness. Freaking perfect.
Silence stretched and Jace’s eyes narrowed as he evaluated Andre. Andre shifted his position a bit, but Jace’s gaze flicked downward, no doubt catching sight of exactly what Andre was trying to hide.
Jace’s brow wrinkled. A beat passed and then awareness dawned. “You’re a switch?”
Fucking hell. Apparently Jace’s instincts didn’t dull with alcohol. “You’re drunk.”
“Possibly. So if you answer me, I probably won’t remember.” He smiled in that disarming way that came so easily to him.
Andre rocked back on his heels, meeting Jace’s stare. “Yes, I’m a switch. With guys. Happy? Now do you need help getting undressed or are you going to sleep in your clothes?”
“I can do it.” Jace peeled off his T-shirt, revealing a view that Andre had seen countless times, but that had never failed to stir something in him. Andre swallowed hard, and Jace stood and unfastened his jeans, surprisingly steady on his feet. “I’m not as wasted as you think I am.”
Andre’s muscles were coiling tighter by the minute, and the air in the loft seemed too thick. If Jace stripped completely, there’d be no way for Andre to tame his hard-on. He needed to get out of here before he made an awkward situation worse. “Good, then I’ll leave you to it. My brother is expecting me back.”
Andre shoved his hands in his pockets and headed toward the door. Get out, get out, get out.
“I don’t want you to go, you know,” Jace said, halting Andre in his tracks. “Or move out.”
Andre shook his head, keeping his back to Jace. “It’s for the best. I don’t want to lose our friendship. And if I stay here, that’s what’s going to happen.”
The sound of clothes shifting filled his ears, but Andre didn’t dare turn around. He didn’t need to see if Jace was getting naked. He took another step toward the door, but before he could reach it, breath hit the nape of Andre’s neck. “Yeah, that’s probably exactly what would happen.”
Andre’s blood seemed to still. He turned around to find Jace within inches of him. “What are you doing?”
That was a good fucking question. But with everything that had happened tonight, Jace was acting on pure instinct. He knew he’d had too much to drink, but the fresh air and the car ride over had cleared his head enough for him to realize that regardless of everything else, he wanted Andre to stay.
No. He wanted Andre period.
And he had no idea what to do with that urge except to give himself over to it. Jace lowered his head and cupped Andre’s neck, meeting the naked emotion in Andre’s eyes. Fear. Sadness. Want for something Andre had already given up on.
Then Jace kissed him.
A cautious kiss, a soft melding of lips that quietly shattered every unspoken boundary between them. Andre’s spine stiffened against Jace’s fingers, the shock evident, but after only a blink of hesitation, Andre sank into it, parting his lips and deepening their connection.
Instead of awkward—the way Jace would’ve expected kissing another man would be—everything about being there with Andre felt comfortable, a natural extension of what was already between them. Sure they’d been sexual together, but this was different. Intimate.
Andre pulled away and stepped back, his jaw clenching. “Don’t. Not like this.”
“You know why I started drinking tonight, Dre?” Jace said, deciding to lay it all on the line. Now or never. He had nothing fucking else to lose tonight. “Because you were moving and I didn’t have the balls to tell you I wanted you to stay. That it confuses the ever-loving shit out of me, but somewhere along the way things have shifted between us.” He stepped closer. “I can’t imagine my life without Evan. But when I saw you packing your bags, I realized even if I had her, something would be missing. You would be missing. I need you both.”
Andre closed his eyes and took a breath, as if shoring up his defenses. And for a moment, Jace feared Andre was going to walk out anyway. Just like Evan. But Andre’s shoulders relaxed. “I swear on everything that is holy in this world, if you wake up tomorrow morning and blame all of this on being wasted, I will fucking beat you with my billy club.”
