He was looking at me and his look was glacial.
“It’s a shame we’ve wasted this time, then,” Angie said indifferently. “We’ll see you in court.”
“Your client should be aware that after this meeting, we’ll be contacting Child Protection Services to instigate proceedings to have my grandson extricated from a home that’s turned dangerous,” Aaron’s father stated.
My lips parted, and I slowly looked to him.
“Would you care to share the grounds you’ll be using?” Angie asked courteously.
“She can hardly not know,” Mr. Neiland replied. “However, if she’s unaware, she should know. She has a man named Peter Waite looking after my grandson. He’s a member of a motorcycle gang that’s known to be felonious, and he himself has a history of criminal activities.”
“Peter Waite,” Angie said, sounding confused. “A man known as Big Petey?”
“I don’t know what he’s known as, Angie,” Mr. Neiland said impatiently. “I just know it’s a demonstration of a serious lack of conscience to allow an infant to be looked after by a known criminal.”
“Well, Big Petey is also a man who won the Illinois lottery about nine years ago,” Angie told Aaron’s dad.
My head slowly turned to her.
She kept speaking.
“He won a good deal of money. He also gave most of it to a hospice that was, at the time, providing his ailing daughter with care. So much money, he endowed it. Sadly, his daughter passed. But his generosity has made it so hundreds of patients and their families could avail themselves of the service from this hospice, which I do believe, since his hefty donation, has won awards.”
I blinked.
She kept talking.
“He also volunteers at a hospice here in Denver. He’s in charge of their small childcare facility. He supervises six other volunteers and he and his volunteers look after youngsters while the families of patients are visiting. Though, he mostly does the supervision as he offers the bulk of his time to my client to care for her son while she’s working, as well as taking care of Kane and Tyra Allen’s two boys, Mr. Allen being the operating manager of a well-known local business. Big Petey further sometimes looks after the young son of Hopper and Elaine Kincaid. Ms. Kincaid, you probably don’t know, owns her own advertising agency. It’s young, but regardless, it was recently declared by a glossy Denver magazine as Denver’s top agency.”
My eyes got big.
Wow.
Go Lanie!
“I would assume that Mr. and Mrs. Allen and Mr. and Mrs. Kincaid, not to mention the director of the hospice, would stand as character witness as to Mr. Waite’s abilities to provide childcare,” Angie stated.
I tried not to smile.
“And it’s true,” Angie went on. “Seventeen years ago, Big Petey was arrested for grand theft auto. However, he was released before trial due to lack of evidence. Although that would appear on his arrest record, it would be doubtful a judge would take that into account during a custody hearing considering the case was thrown out.”
She lifted her hand but didn’t quit talking.
“And, before you mention it, I understand he did some community service for a drunk and disorderly he pled guilty to. However, this occurred only weeks after his daughter’s funeral service, so I do believe his behavior would be understood. Oh, and, of course, the judge allowed this service to be done at the hospice where, after, they took him on in a volunteer capacity.”
“That does not negate the fact that my ex-daughter-in-law is consorting with a biker gang,” Mr. Neiland retorted. “And I do believe you, and she, understand precisely what I mean by consorting.”
“I would be very careful of any public disparagement of the Chaos Motorcycle Club, Judge Neiland,” Angie said quietly.
“Is that a threat?” Aaron’s dad asked snidely.
Angie looked to Aaron’s attorney and offered, “Steven, perhaps you need a moment to confer with your client.”
“He hardly does,” Mr. Neiland sniped, and I looked at him to see him turning his attention to me. “We have a witness who will attest that they observed your boyfriend assaulting a man at an illegal underground fight, several of his gang members with him, and he did this brutally. The man was left bloodied, battered, unconscious, and barely breathing. And you are allowing this man to be around my grandson.”
My body stopped functioning.
Luckily, Angie’s didn’t.
“Were charges filed?”
“What?” Aaron’s dad snapped.
“Judge Neiland, were charges filed?” she repeated slowly.
“No, but—”
“No,” she cut him off sharply. “And this man you speak of that Mr. Steele allegedly assaulted, is he not currently incarcerated without bail for ordering the murder of a young pregnant woman?” Angie asked.
My back went straight.
“That’s beside the point,” Mr. Neiland hissed.
“So he is,” Angie stated.
“It’s beside the point,” Mr. Neiland bit out.
“You’re right. It is,” she conceded but didn’t let it go. “Now, this witness you say you have, they were at an illegal underground fight?”
Aaron’s father pressed his lips together.
Angie didn’t let up.
“Did this witness, say, happen by this illegal underground fight while they were taking an evening stroll, then, perchance, they immediately phoned it in to the police, considering it was an illegal underground fight where an assault allegedly occurred?”
I watched Aaron’s father glare at Angie.
I heard Angie address Aaron’s attorney. “Steven, again, would you like a moment to confer with your client?”
I looked to Aaron.
He was staring at the table.
Sitting there, listening to this nastiness, not participating, and staring at the stupid table!
“I love him,” I announced.
Aaron’s head came up.
“Carissa,” Angie said quietly, her hand back to my arm on the table.
Aaron’s father made a disgusted noise.
But I was looking into Aaron’s eyes.
“I loved you once, and you destroyed me.”
“Carissa, please let me do the speaking,” Angie urged beside me.
I didn’t look away from Aaron.
“This is it,” I told him. “I’m done. I won’t allow you to hurt me anymore. Hurt me directly. Hurt me through Carson. Hurt me using my friends. Hurt me at all. Hurt them at all. I know what this means,” I threw up a hand slightly, indicating our vile meeting. “You’re set on destroying me. Again. Taking away the happiness I worked hard for. So congratulations, Aaron. You’ve finally done it. You’ve turned love to hate. I didn’t want that. Not for me or you and especially not for Travis. I know it’s not nice to hate someone, but I can say it’s now official. Your willingness to be a party to this has made that so. What will be will be what you force it to be. I’ll deal with it. If you force me to go down, I’ll go down fighting. If you take everything from me, I’m okay with that as long as I keep hold of my baby. But there will be nothing that will make me stop hating you. I’ll see you again only when I have to see you. Other than that, I hope I never see you.”
I stood and Aaron’s eyes followed me.
They were wounded and suffering.
Mine held his steady as they did because I didn’t care even a little bit what he was feeling.
“I can’t imagine it, what would make a man who has the love of a woman, a woman who wants nothing but to live a life loving him and the babies they make, strive to turn that to hate. If I could stand the sight of you, I’d be interested in you explaining that to me. But I can’t stand the sight of you. So that will remain a mystery.” I looked immediately to Angie and told her, “I’m sorry, Angie, but I have to go.”
She nodded. “Go, Carissa.”
I turned away, felt them and I hated them too.
But they cam
e, the tears, as I walked blindly to the door, too overwhelmed by what I was feeling, the fear crawling inside me, to even worry that I might trip and make a fool of myself.
I didn’t.
I got to the door, put my hand on the handle, and pulled it open.
I looked over my shoulder one last time at the man I once loved.
Then I walked away.
Aaron
“They hardly have a leg to stand on.”
“Judge Neiland, we had a plan. You did not stick to the plan. That did not go well. Now, I urge you to listen to me…”
Aaron Neiland wasn’t listening as he strode ahead of his father and his attorney.
It was his father’s idea to come that day.
He hadn’t seen Carissa recently. He didn’t know how she’d changed.
And the pompous fuck wouldn’t have listened anyway.
Aaron didn’t give a shit if he came or not. The whole play was a grandstand so he could see Carissa’s face when they told her they were taking her ass to court.
He did this because he wanted to watch her start to cave.
She was all about Travis. All about family. So he knew she would cave.
So he was shocked as shit that she didn’t.
He walked right to the elevators but as he did, he saw it.
And when he saw it, he didn’t stare. He looked away immediately.
But it was burned on his brain anyway.
He knew where Angie’s office was in that suite.
Fuck, he should have taken the long way.
But he didn’t.
So he saw it.
Carissa pressing her face into Carson Steele’s chest, the man’s head bent, lips to her hair, her shoulders shaking with her tears. He was holding Carissa close with one arm, hand buried in her ringlets, Aaron’s fucking son held tight in his other arm.
That vision was obliterated by another one he also did not like—seeing that last look of hurt and hate thrown his way through her tears—as Aaron got in the elevator.
The doors closed on him, his father, and his friend and colleague, Steven.
“Son, we’ll go back to the office and—” his dad began.
He turned his head and caught his father’s eyes. “Please, shut up.”
His chin jerked into his neck. “I beg your pardon?”
He heard her words.
I can’t stand the sight of you.
His father had fucked up. Their investigator warned them strongly not to bring in Chaos. If they did, the investigator told them that Kane Allen would activate Nightingale or Delgado, “And unless you can open your closet doors wide and only celestial light shines out with no bones dangling, they’ll eviscerate the both of you.”
His words.
Precisely.
Neither his father nor Aaron could open those doors.
So Chaos was off-limits.
But his father was so fucking arrogant, his head so far up his fucking ass, he thought he could get away with anything.
The strategy was to shake Carissa up with their news about Peter Waite and to share that her boyfriend was capable of beating a man bloody. Shake her up and make her rethink. Shake her up and drive her back to Aaron.
Aaron had not foreseen Angie being that in the know about her Chaos clients. She’d made Steele sound like a crusader for justice, and Carissa hadn’t even blinked.
She knew it all, or if she didn’t know it all, she knew enough not to give a shit.
Then she’d walked out and right into Steele’s arms.
Right into his arms.
“I said, shut up.”
His father’s face twisted.
“Don’t let that little bitch get into your head,” he hissed. “She’s been fucking with it since she was fucking fourteen.”
Carissa was a little bitch now. For over a decade, she’d been everything from an angel to a demon depending on his father’s mood.
His mother had always loved her.
His mother detested Tory.
His father didn’t mind staring at Tory’s tits any time she was around, but he thought she was a low-class homewrecker, and he’d shared that straight to Aaron’s face.
Repeatedly.
He’d never win with his dad.
But Carissa had always been a winner with his mother.
One out of two had not been bad.
Aaron advanced until he was nose to nose with his father, the man pressed to the side of the elevator.
“Aaron,” Steven whispered.
“Do not ever call Carissa a bitch.”
“I raised a weak son,” his father sneered. “Mind filled with skirt.”
I can’t stand the sight of you.
The doors opened.
Aaron backed away from his dad and strode out.
* * *
Aaron Neiland didn’t go to his office.
He went to his house.
The house his fucking father shoved down his throat.
He knew Carissa hated it. It was big and imposing, took forever to clean, it wasn’t her. Not even a little bit.
It could have been her, if they’d worked up to it, they’d started smaller and he’d been able to give her bigger and do it gradually, but his parents planting them in it when he was just starting as a junior associate…
No.
He went to the kitchen, opened a cupboard, grabbed a glass, opened another cupboard, grabbed a bottle, but stopped himself before pouring.
The bottle held an expensive Scotch whisky.
His dad drank Scotch.
He stared at the bottle.
Fuck, why did he drink whisky? He hated it.
He poured it down the drain and made what he liked.
A gin and tonic.
Then he did what the asshole in a romantic movie would do.
He went to the box that Tory had filled and put in the closet of one of the guest rooms. He tugged it out. He grabbed the wedding album. He went to the bed and dropped it on it.
He slugged back some gin and tossed open the cover.
The first picture was of Carissa sitting on a green lawn, bouquet in her hand, massive dress spread all around, her eyes up and not looking at the camera, but shifted to the right.
She was laughing.
Carissa had asked their photographer to put a picture of the two of them together at the beginning of the album.
Carissa’s dad had insisted on paying for the wedding, including the photographer, but still, even though she wasn’t paying for it, his mother had vetoed Carissa’s wishes and chosen that photo.
As usual, his mother got what she wanted.
Aaron stared at the picture, his gut twisting.
He looked at her face in the photo and remembered that moment. Remembered it exactly.
It had been half an hour after they’d been declared married. He’d spent half that time in the back of their limo making out with his beautiful new wife, enjoying himself immensely, and also enjoying pissing off his parents, who wanted his and his wife’s asses in front of the photographer.
But as that photo was taken, he was standing to the photographer’s left and it had been all about Carissa. All about how sure he was about her right there in that beautiful gown. All about how sure he’d always been that they would have that, him in a tux, her in a wedding dress.
He’d been happy, happy for himself, happy for her, and because of that he’d been teasing her. He’d made her laugh and the photographer had snapped the picture.
I can’t stand the sight of you.
He swallowed, staring at the album.
That had been Aaron’s favorite shot. He liked it up front. He’d never said anything, but whenever he opened that album, that was precisely the picture he wanted to see.
Carissa looking beautiful and happy, laughing because he gave her that.
He liked to tell himself that was what he intended to give her for the rest of her life, even when he knew he was on the path to becoming his father, s
o he also knew it was a fucking lie.
He’d dicked her around. He knew that too. It was like he couldn’t help himself.
His father told him it happened. “You just have to get it out of your system, son. You’re young. You will. When you do, if she’s worth having a Neiland and knows what’s good for her, she’ll be there. Trust me.”
So he always knew, in the end, it would be her.
He was just so ridiculously arrogant, he didn’t know, in the end, for her it shouldn’t be him.
His mind filled with her weeping in Carson Steele’s arm.
I’ve loved her since high school, man.
Aaron slugged back more gin and stared at the photo.
You gotta drag her down, that’ll suck, but I’ll pick her back up.
Carissa stared up at him.
Laughing.
You gotta rip her apart, I’ll fuckin’ hate watchin’ it, but I’ll put her back together.
He threw back the last of the gin.
Push her to the point she can’t stand the sight of you. But do it knowin’ that’s all on you. Just like everything that went before, it’s all on you.
Fuck, the asshole was right.
He never should have allowed his father to come that day. He had no clue what he was thinking. He wasn’t seventeen and going to the principal’s office.
He was fucking twenty-six and going to a meeting to negotiate his son’s future.
As uncomfortable as it was, as hideous as it felt coming to the realization, Aaron had no choice. Too much was at stake with the most important parts of that being the happiness and well-being of the woman he loved and their child.
And that realization was the fact it was time he grew the fuck up.
I love him.
He drew in breath before he set the glass aside and reached into his inside suit jacket pocket.
He pulled out his phone and made the call to his investigator.
“Text me Steele’s cell,” he ordered.
The man texted.
Aaron made another call.
“Yo.”
“Steele. Neiland.”
Silence.
“If you don’t make her happy, I’ll destroy you, I don’t give a fuck the weight you got behind you with that Club.”
Steele still said nothing.
Aaron drew in another breath.