Chapter 45

“Wow,” I yell as Leila spins me for the third time, sending me wheeling across the narrow area we have chosen as a dance space. The place is jam-packed, and bumping into random strangers is inevitable. I catch Jake looking over at me from the group of men he’s ensconced with and smile at him. He smiles back, but there’s a tension about him that wasn’t there before. I’m pulled back by Leila seconds later and spun out in a twirl, colliding with someone hard.

“Ouch,” I yelp as strong hands come up to steady me. I pull myself away from the person, apologizing profusely, and stand on my own two feet. Hard to do when you’re extremely drunk, and I’m sure I’m slurring. I look up into the face of the tall, dark ‘wall’ I’d collided with, and I’m surprised by his resemblance to Jake; it’s almost eerie. Although Jake is casual and sexy with designer stubble and green eyes, this man has a clean-shaven face, blue eyes, and more of a James Bond thing going for him. He smiles at me and extends a hand.

“A proper introduction… I’m Ben Huntsberger, Leila’s brother.” He smiles, and I’m glad to see that he doesn’t have Jake’s heart-wrenching “I’m too hot” smile. There’s no comparison; his smile seems all too engineered and white against the fake tan glow on his skin. Jake’s tan is real; even without the sun, he has that warm Italian olive skin.

“Emma Anderson,” I reply, shaking his hand and quickly pulling it away, not liking the feel of his skin on mine. Jake aside, I still cringe at men touching me. Somehow it feels wrong to be touched by him, and it sends a weird unease through me.

“She’s told me a lot about you.” He grins at me, and I get the distinct impression he’s trying to flirt. I lower my brows, narrow my eyes suspiciously, and move back, feeling slightly uncomfortable. It’s that same feeling with him that I get with most men except Jake. I’ve never felt it with him, not even from the start, that off-feeling of mistrust.

“Most of it’s probably not true; she likes to embellish.” I smile tightly, ensuring I don’t encourage him in any way. I know his type.

“I’m sure it’s all true.” His eyes wander up my legs and over my body before stopping a second too long on my cleavage. “She tells me you’re Jake’s girlfriend?”

I feel a wave of bile and unease. He’s making my skin crawl, but I don’t get a chance to answer before I’m tugged back harshly into the hard chest of a very irate Jake. He’s holding my upper arm almost painfully.

“Yes, she is, so you can go letch someplace else, asshole.” Aggression is oozing off Jake in overwhelming waves, making me almost instantly uneasy. My alarm bells are going off at being caught between them, with Jake exuding a mounting alpha male vibe.

“Well, didn’t you turn out to be the jealous one after all?” Ben quips, grinning.

But it’s the wrong thing to say, and Jake moves toward him in a flash, face-to-face. Pushed aside a little too abruptly, I stumble into someone else. I catch myself and stagger behind Jake to keep my distance, eyes wide at this new version of him, unsure of what to think or do. I’m stunned that he actually shoved me.

“You think I’d be jealous of you? Emma wouldn’t give you a second look,” he snaps in Ben’s face, the men nose-to-nose in a display of dominance, equally matched in height and muscle. The air is sparking around them. I begin to tremble in fear, unsure how to react. I’ve never seen Jake go head-to-head with someone this way, nor seen him behave like this, except with Ray Vanquis, which ended in bloodshed for a justified reason.

“I’m sure you thought that about Marissa too, yet she was only too willing to climb into my bed,” Ben sneers, and my brain instantly clicks the pieces into place, and I gasp quietly.

This was Jake’s best friend? The man who betrayed him so long ago? No wonder Jake feels this way about him.

I don’t see it coming at all. It’s so sudden and uncharacteristic of Jake that I barely see it happen. He hits Ben full-on in the face with one perfect punch in his trained boxer stance, the energy rippling around us. The room almost falls silent as the thud echoes in my ears. The other man crumples to the ground. Chaos erupts around us as others jump to their feet, and Leila starts yelling.

I’m pushed back behind other girls by the force of those getting involved and can’t see what’s happening. For minutes I’m pushing and struggling to get out of the corner I’ve been trapped in, panic searing through me, surrounded by noise and shouting, drowning out the music. Finally, I’m yanked forward by Leila, who drags me out between groups of people and hurriedly leads me along the windows before heading out through a smaller side door to the elevator lobby.

“Where’s Jake?” I demand, trying to wrench free. “Leila, stop! Where is he?” I squeal in panic. I can’t leave without him; I need to know where he is, what’s happening, and if he’s okay.

“We’re following him!” Leila barks. “Security threw him outside with Ben. I need you to calm him down before he fucking kills him.” She is completely distraught.

“Wait, what?” I grab her hand, pulling her to an abrupt stop. “I thought Jake hit him, and that was the end. Everyone got in the way, and I couldn’t see anymore.” The fear that has taken hold in my stomach is most definitely in panic mode.

“Ben got back up, and when Jake went to walk away, he lurched at him and tried to hit Jake back.” Leila starts to cry, and I wrap my arms around her. “I got pushed aside, and I couldn’t see anymore. The next thing I knew, Ben and Jake were gone, apparently heading out of the building to finish what they started.” She starts sobbing. “I love them both… I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay,” I soothe, trying to act soberer and braver than I feel. The shock of what’s happened has improved my senses. The deep pit of worry inside me takes over, pushing good old familiar PA Emma’s head in place. We catch an elevator down; when the doors open, I pull Leila along, following others leaving the building, hoping I’m going the right way. Ahead of us, I spot one of the men who had been with us upstairs and follow him, dragging a silent and tearful Leila along by the hand with determination, my heart thudding through my chest.

With people in the way hindering us, it feels like the longest time ever before we finally get outside. Arrick appears, looking less frantic, and shakes his head in our general direction like this is something normal every day. I feel ill with nerves, but my outward demeanor is that of cool and controlled PA Emma; she was always best in a crisis.

There seems to be a crowd in the street. Pulling Leila by the hand, I spot familiar faces and finally see two men holding Ben back. His face is bloody, his perfect hair messy, and his shirt pulled and torn. He’s yelling and struggling to get loose, but they have an arm each and are doing their best to keep him back.

I follow the direction of his hateful gaze and see Jake standing about twenty feet from him. A few men are in front of him, talking to him, their hands resting lightly on his arms. He looks less agitated than Ben and requires a lot less force to keep him still; he’s also completely unscathed, with not even a hint of anything wrong with his attire. I let go of Leila, run for him, pushing between the men standing with him, and throw myself around him, tears coming from nowhere. He seems to jolt back to reality at my touch and instantly relaxes, the tension I hadn’t seen in his face seeping from his rigid body. His hands come to my face, pulling my chin up to bring our eyes to one another.

“Hey, don’t cry,” he soothes, the furrow on his brow deepening, showing remorse instead of anger. “Bambina, hey, stop now.” He bends, and his face and mouth nuzzle into my neck as his arms come around me, surrounding me. He squeezes the life out of me, lifting me from my feet in a bear hug that almost winds me.

Suddenly rage rises inside me, now that I know he’s okay, over the fact that Jake physically pushed me out of his way to fight with some idiot over her. It sparks to the surface without warning, igniting crazily. I shove him off hard and square up to him as best I can, being so much shorter.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” I yell at him, tears replaced with anger. His face is a picture of disbelief. He tries to grab me, but I hit him away angrily, the fire inside me fully blazing, jealousy eating my soul.

How could he behave like that in a nightclub?

It’s not just that he pushed me aside and physically attacked someone; he attacked the person who stole Marissa from him, the girl he doesn’t care for anymore—apparently!

That, more than anything, is at the root of my drunken fury. My insecurity is piqued and sensitized, and irrational Emma is on a full-blown tirade in her woozy state.

“I’m going home!” I snap. Giving him no chance to answer, I turn away and look around for Leila, for anyone to get me away from him and the utter rage I am in right now.

“Emma?” Jake comes at me again, apprehension all over his face. I’m beyond livid. I need him not to touch me. I spin away and march back toward Arrick, standing nearby, looking toward Leila with Ben. She’s got her arms around her brother’s waist and is talking to him, crying her eyes out, pleading with him; all the while, he’s glaring over her head at Jake with unveiled venom.

Ben locks eyes on me, storms past, pushes Leila aside, marches forward, grabs me by the wrist, and tries for a revengeful kiss on my mouth. He wants Jake to go for him again, using me as a weapon. As I see it coming, I slap him hard across the face, instantly defensive Emma, honed and acting impulsively, incensed with anger. I don’t even get a chance to feel the burn wave through my hand as I’m shoved hard from behind, making me fly forward like a rag doll straight into the arms of Arrick Carrero, enveloped in his surprisingly firm hold as though he was expecting it.

Shocked and winded and trying not to fight, I turn in the younger man’s arms—he’s strong for someone so lean—and I see Jake and Ben rolling around on the ground, going at it on the hard concrete street. Jake is getting the upper hand, and the look of sheer hatred emanating from his face sends chills down my body. I try to lurch forward, but Arrick keeps a tight hold, picking me up off my feet and marching away from the craziness. I squeal and struggle in protest, but it’s futile; he has Jake’s strength and iron will. I am no match.

I’m deposited into a waiting car, Arrick sliding in beside me holding my arm tightly with a vice-like grip, looking toward the scene from the window.

“Take us to Jake’s apartment,” Arrick commands the driver while I wriggle, trying to free my hand and protest.

“Hell, no! Your brother is back there fighting… I’m not leaving him,” I yell aggressively and try another twist at my arm to get free. His grip only tightens, and it begins to hurt a little.

“Jake’s a big boy,” Arrick says calmly. “I know him well enough to know this is the only way to get him home and away from Ben Huntsberger in a hurry. Jake used to spend much of his younger life beating the crap out of people, Emma. I’m seriously not worried. Ben should be, though; my brother is an accomplished fighter, and Ben just touched the one thing in the world that flipped Jake’s psycho switch.” He seems almost proud and is smirking as the car pulls away. Like this, he doesn’t look quite as young or immature as the boy I remember in Jake’s office. He looks eerily like him.

For the first time ever, I note a slight resemblance to Jake on his face; it’s in the smirk, the slight curve of his mouth, the straight brows, and the intense glare, and it silences me momentarily.

“Why would dragging me away make him come? He’s back there fighting over his ex-girlfriend,” I snap, tears biting at my eyes irrationally.

Arrick glances at me with a confused frown then shrugs and murmurs, “Women,” almost sarcastically. When the car is up to speed on the road, he finally lets go of me and casually pulls out his phone, sticking it to his ear.

“Hey, Daniel… Tell my brother I’m taking his girlfriend back to his place… Tell him she’s absolutely livid with him and thinking of packing her bags.” He throws me a triumphant look, as though he’s just put the best master plan in motion, then sits back comfortably, a master of dominance and manipulation just like his brother. “Look, Emma, relax and let me take you home. I know him better than most. Trust me to get him home. Deal?” He holds out a muscular, square hand and throws me his most charming smile, asking me to shake on it. With Jake’s smile on a face that is weirdly both like and not like his, I soften a little despite my head being full of anger, insecurity, and chaos and stuck back somewhere on a New York street where my boyfriend is reenacting a scene from ~Fight Club~.

“Thanks…I guess. Deal. I’m sorry Jake ruined your birthday.” I shake his hand and then look away, my mind still racing back to what’s happening with him, my insides writhing in chaos.

“Ben’s an asshole. Any chance he gets, he likes to start this shit with Jake. It’s been ten years, and he still won’t give it up.” Arrick shrugs in that annoying Carrero manner.

Jesus, can he have any more of Jake’s mannerisms?

“Wait, what? If Ben’s the one who hurt Jake, why is Ben causing an issue?” I ask him pointedly, confusion further muddling my already muddled brain.

“Ben’s been in love with Marissa since forever. Even after Jake broke up with her, she just kept trailing after Jake and pushing Ben aside. Ben’s never gotten over the fact she still picked Jake over him.” He checks his phone as it lights up and texts someone back absentmindedly. He’s annoyingly confident like his brother.

“So, this has happened before? Whenever they meet?” The thought makes me feel sick to my stomach.

“Well, yeah, in a way. Never as physical as tonight, though; Jake’s normally a lot more in control. He normally blows him off with sarcasm and a lot of posturing. Tonight is the first time he’s hit Ben in years.” He looks up from his phone at me, a small smile of assurance on his face.

Now that I can see him up close, I realize Arrick does have more of Jake in his face. He doesn’t have that devastating, domineering thing going on with flawless masculinity, but he has something more boyish and cute rather than rugged, like a little brother should, especially one who is still so young.

“Jake drank a lot tonight. Maybe that’s why.” I turn away to watch the passing scenery with a horrid heaviness inside me, waiting to burst open.

“I think Ben saw something he’s never had before…a weapon to rile my brother; that’s why he tried to kiss you.” He smiles at me, and I shake my head, inner anguish firing back up and tears threatening.

“No, the first punch was after he mentioned Marissa. You’re wrong.” I shrug, my emotions raw. I start biting my thumbnail anxiously, the fingers of my other hand instantly finding a strand of my hair to tug as old Emma’s insecurity takes over.

“Jake wouldn’t hit him if he weren’t already riled, Emma. He started growling the second he saw Ben talking to you; I was beside him. As soon as he saw him near you, he put his drink down in readiness for battle.” He smiles gently and then disarms me with Jake’s most annoying trait ever—he pulls my fingers out of my hair and puts my hand on my lap with a gentle tap before letting it go. It causes a surprising shock to run through me with the sheer paternal way he did it like he’s the older one here.

“Look, stop worrying. Jake’s a trained kickboxer. He spent half his life fighting for fun; he’ll be fine. Ben is no opponent.” He shrugs, completely unfazed.

I can do nothing but blink at him, much like his brother, but not; the fairer hair and hazel eyes had thrown me. Also, not once when he’s touched me have I felt any repulsion or fear, no different to what I feel when Leila or Sarah touches me, the quiet trust in someone who’s almost family. This is so new to me that I don’t even know how to process it.

“Jake will follow as soon as he gets my message.” He grins at me. “He’s got it bad with you. You’ll see.”

I relax back into the seat and close my eyes, trying not to picture Jake sprawled in the street with Ben Huntsberger, trying not to picture that smug face as he moved in to kiss me. Maybe Arrick is right—Ben honed in on me to get a reaction from Jake, not once but twice, and Jake behaved in a way that, to me, is so uncharacteristic of my old boss and friend. Maybe boyfriend Jake is just overprotective and jealous. Or maybe it really is about her.

I’m so confused.

When we enter the underground car park of Jake’s apartment building, Arrick asks if I want him to escort me up to the door, but I refuse. I thank him for getting me home and mention that I left my coat somewhere in the nightclub. He assures me he will have the staff locate it in the morning, and I say my goodbyes.

I like Arrick. There’s something so very Jake-like about him, yet in a less macho package. He’s sweet in a little brother way, and I feel safe around him. Not once has he eyed me up or checked out my cleavage, and every sentence from his mouth is delivered with eye contact throughout. He has maturity and politeness about him, but there’s also an underlying capability and fire that most definitely matches his brother.

Jake loves his brother; they’re always texting and calling each other, and now I can see why. Arrick is the calm and sensible of the two, the grounding force in Jake’s life. He’s the quieter brother who idolizes him and makes him want to be a better role model, the yin to his yang.

I pass Mathews, one of Jake’s security guards, in the hall; he’s doing the night watch this weekend. We exchange brief smiles before I head to the bedroom. I throw my shoes off, aiming them at Jake’s wardrobe in a temper now that I’m alone. I am completely up and down about tonight.

I’m angry with Jake for ruining the night, but I also get it. Ben is an asshole of the worst kind and deserved that punch in the face. But if what Jake hit him for was past hurt over Marissa, then I cannot look at him tonight. It hurts too much.

I stomp around angrily, lost in a world of drunken pain and confusion.

On the other hand, I’m also upset because of the way he manhandled me; there was no love or care about his shoving me into Arrick. Even pulling me away from Ben the first time was aggressive, leaving me shaken up. I can’t handle aggressive behavior toward me, especially not from him. It opens deep insecurities and fears I can’t even begin to untangle.

If I had let Jake hold me, kiss me, and begged him to come home, the second half of the fight would never have occurred. Ben wouldn’t have used me as bait. We would have come home, and he would be here right now with me instead of God knows where doing what.

I strip, pull on a long loose T-shirt, and pad to the bathroom to use makeup wipes to clean my face. Tear-stained and smudged to hell, I look awful.

I don’t even want to try calling Jake. I can’t, I realize with dismay; I didn’t even pick up my bag when I left that damn club, and I groan at the realization. My phone and lipstick were all in it; I had left them on the table beside Jake when I was dancing.

I wander around the room, pacing and checking the time, looking at the door, and then walk to the window to try and peer down at the street below, but it’s too far down to see anything in the dark. I’m sick with nerves.

Where is he?

I walk to the kitchen and pour myself some orange juice, taking two aspirin now that my drunkenness has dissipated fully after the night’s events, adrenaline killing it. There’s still no sign of him when I walk back to the bedroom and sit on the bed. I don’t want to lie down until he’s back, and I know he’s not harmed in any way.

I’m angry that he’s not home, that I can’t call him, and that my mind runs at a million miles an hour with the worst scenarios. I curl up in a ball on the bed and sit waiting, tense, and twisting my hair to death, my feet scrunching into the sheets and biting my lip all at once. Emma is in fidget overload.

Guess I haven’t lost my telling habits after all.