Chase slammed the file drawer closed, ignoring his twin's amusement, before he paced back to his desk and sat down heavily. He opened the next file, but damned if he could see a word he was reading. All he could think about was Kia. That damned stoic, somber look on her face the last time he'd seen her. Her gaze had been quiet; there hadn't even been anger there, just this prideful acceptance that he wasn't going to stay.
"You know, Marcy Stephens bragged quite horribly about the nights you and Cameron spent in her bed. She swears Cameron was the one who escaped moments after his release and you were the one who petted her through the night. She must have managed to get the two of you mixed up."
His jaw clenched as he remembered the quiet accusation in her voice. He had stayed and held the others through the night, so why couldn't he hold her?
Because he was a damned fool, that was exactly why. Because Kia was like a train wreck waiting to happen to his heart. He couldn't stay the hell away from her, but that didn't mean he had to make things worse by allowing feelings to develop.
Keep it on the physical level, he told himself. Keep emotion out of it and neither of them was going to get hurt.
So why the hell did he feel like the biggest bastard walking because he hadn't called her? Because she hadn't been at that damned dinner the night before he spent the night with her. Because he hadn't asked her to join him and his friends later in the week.
Because he knew he wanted her with him, and he couldn't make himself make the call.
As he sat there mentally kicking himself, the door opened and Ian walked in. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it as Chase lifted his head and glared back.
Ian frowned.
"I'm certain I should blame you for this," he said casually. "I'll find a way to prove it's your fault, Chase."
Chase closed the file and folded his hands on top of it, looking back at his employer with an attempt at politeness.
"What did he do this time?" Cameron asked Ian almost gleefully. "Do we get to flog him?"
"Grow up," Chase snapped back at Cameron.
Ian snorted. "Courtney went shopping today."
Chase grunted at that. "It's not my fault she goes shopping."
"No, but it's entirely your fault, I'm quiet certain of it, that she called me and asked me to please tell you to check your e-mail. Now, my wife is plotting, planning, and conniving, and I'm going to blame you."
Chase felt his balls tighten in fear. Anytime Courtney plotted, planned, or connived, a man needed to be terrified.
He turned to his computer, pulled up the e-mail, and clicked on her message.
This is what she bought at our shopping trip. Won't she look just luscious
? And there was an attachment.
Chase clicked the attachment as though it were viral. It opened, the thumbnail pictures causing his heart to begin beating a harsh tattoo as Cameron and Ian moved behind him.
The lingerie was so sinful he was going to explode. Red and black, virginal white, and a deep sapphire blue. Camisettes and camisoles, bustiers and corsets and panties so delicate he swore he could feel a fine film of sweat on his brow as he saw the pictures someone had taken with her cell phone.
And her expression as she chose the items. A little distant, a sensual smile tipping her lips, as though she were imagining what her lover would think.
He clicked off the file quickly.
"Get off!" He snarled back at his brother and employer as he wiped the sweat from his brow and forced himself to remain in his chair rather than rushing to her apartment and begging her, pleading on bent knee, to allow him to see her in each damned article.
"Damn, I hope Jaci was paying attention to what she bought." Cameron sighed. "Better yet, I hope not. I'm too young for a stroke."
A stroke was the least of Chase's worries now.
He lifted his gaze to Ian. "Inform Courtney, please, that was uncalled for." She was conniving against him. He'd known she'd end up doing it, just not this quickly.
Ian grinned. "Yes, I assumed this was your fault. What did you do? Forget the Rutherford girl's birthday? Some kind of personal anniversary?"
Chase almost paled. No, Kia would have never told those women he refused to spend the night with her. But she might have denied a relationship. Because there was no relationship.
"I am not involved in a relationship with her." The words torn from his lips, forced past them.
Ian's brow lifted. He swore Cameron was choking with laughter behind him.
"You don't say," Ian drawled, black brows lifting in his darkly tanned face.
"That's exactly what I said," he growled.
Ian glanced to Cameron. "He's a bit touchy on the subject, isn't he?"
"A bit." Cameron still sounded choked.
Chase was ready to turn and smack the air back in his brother's lungs when his cell phone rang. Picking it up from the desk, he tensed and cursed.
The number for the junior investigator they had watching Kia for any signs that Drew was harassing her showed up on the display.
"Falladay," he answered.
"Mr. Falladay, Mr. Stanton caught Ms. Rutherford in the lobby of a restaurant I followed her to. They had a confrontation. I was able to pick up bits and pieces of it but she left rather upset. I've followed her back to her apartment and Mr. Stanton is now lingering in the lobby there."
"What did you hear?"
The investigator paused.
"Out with it," he snapped.
"Sir, Mr. Stanton informed Ms. Rutherford he requested you as a third one night, and you refused the offer."
Chase froze. He could feel the fury rising inside him now, a bleak, dark wave of sheer rage and knowledge.
"Fuck him." He came out of his chair, ignoring Cameron's and Ian's gazes, sharpening in concern. "Stay on him. I'm heading to the apartment building now."
"Yes, sir."
Chase disconnected the call, shoved the phone into the holster at his belt, then lifted his gaze to Ian.
"Stanton's out of control," he snapped. "I want something done with him."
Ian glanced at Cameron, then back to Chase. "You haven't declared her—"
"We made her a fucking promise," he said. "You contact the committee, Ian. I made her a promise and they backed me on it. They backed me on having the investigator check out the problem, and the problem is there. I want it handled."
Ian's eyes narrowed on him. "Within the bounds of your promise." He nodded slowly. "We'll discuss it when you return."
Chase wasn't listening. He slammed out of the office and moved quickly along the hallways to the front door. His car was waiting in the driveway where he had parked it earlier, the keys hanging in the ignition.
He tore out of the estate in a squeal of rubber and a snarl of fury.
Fucking Stanton, he was going to end up having to kill him at this rate. He was to stay away from Kia. Period. If his fist hadn't made that plain enough two years ago, then Chase figured a bit heavier of a blow might get the point across. Several of them perhaps.
Kia could feel the anger, resentment, and the overwhelming embarrassment rising inside her as she slammed the door to her apartment and tossed the bags that had been waiting for her with the apartment manager to the couch.
They tipped, they spilled, and she didn't give a damn. She had to dash away the furious tears beginning to drip from her eyes.
This was why she had stayed out of society. Because the barbs, the cutting remarks, and the pure cruelties that abounded sliced into her in ways she had no idea how to combat.
And Drew had struck the most telling blow since the night he had told her she wasn't woman enough for him. Hell, that had been even before he had brought his damned third in on her.
Chase had rejected her?
The fact that it wouldn't have mattered who Drew brought in that night was beside the point. The fact that had it been Chase she would have died of mortification was beside the point as well.
Chase had rejected her.
She swiped at her tears as she jerked the coverlet from the back of the couch and tossed it across the room. The pillow followed. The rage inside her had no outlet, and she had no idea what to do with it.
She kicked her shoes from her feet and snarled as one slapped into the wall and the other landed somewhere in the kitchen.
She was acting childishly and she knew it. Irrational, her mother would have said. She sniffed and didn't bother to wipe the tears from her face this time. She covered it with her hands, instead, leaned against the wall, and let the first sob break free.
She couldn't even understand why she felt so rejected, so forlorn inside. She felt as though her pride had been stripped again, and she had no idea how to repair the rift.
Oh God, if anyone had heard what he said. Did Rebecca know? Drew and Rebecca's husband were still friends. Did she know what Drew had done? That Chase hadn't wanted her then?
And she had been so pathetic. Eating him with her eyes just as Drew had charged. Fascinated with his dark, tanned good looks, his tall, hard body, the sensual, wicked knowledge in his eyes each time he looked at her.
He had been so far out of her league she had never even attempted to gain his attention. He was one of those men women worshipped from afar because they knew they could never hope to hold him.
She moved into the kitchen, dampened a dish towel, and laid it against her face. She didn't want to cry. She had shed enough tears two years ago to float a small city. She couldn't afford to do so again.
But it hurt. It hurt to know that Drew had even asked him. The rejection only made the sting deeper, made the cut more jagged.
She wiped the tears from her face, and flinched as the doorbell sounded. More packages, no doubt. There were a few more expected.
Clothing she would likely hang in her closet and never find an occasion on which to wear it. Lingerie she would wear with no one to see it.
She inhaled harshly. No, that wasn't true. Not this time. The clothes at least would be seen. She would make certain of it.
She stomped to the door and jerked it open.
She wished she had checked to see who was on the other side first.
Before she could slam the door in Khalid's face, he stepped inside and closed it softly behind him.
"Does Chase know you're here?" she asked furiously. "What? Did he send you to do his dirty work for him?"
He tilted his head slowly, the thick black strands of his hair shifting over his shoulders, giving him a dangerous, slightly barbaric look.
"I only do my own dirty work if you don't mind," he drawled. "I saw the confrontation with Stanton at the restaurant. I merely came to see how you fared."
His voice was soft, gentle, a male melody that would ease any woman. Except Kia. He could shove his melody right where it didn't matter who heard it.
"I'm faring just damned fine," she informed him bluntly.
"Yes." He nodded. "I can see this."
He looked around, no doubt seeing the clothes tipped out on the couch and floor, the blanket tossed carelessly across the room, the pillow on the other side of the room. Hell, she had forgotten what happened to her shoes.
"You can leave now. Close the door on your way out." She turned her back to him and paced into the kitchen toward the bottle of wine she had in the refrigerator.
"I haven't heard my damned door close." She turned, and he was there, standing just inside the kitchen, his expression faintly puzzled. "What?" She jerked the cork from the wine and lifted a glass from the glass rack. "I don't have time to deal with you today, Khalid."
"You have other appointments?" he asked her.
"Several." Her smile was full of teeth. "My schedule is filling up fast. Didn't you know?"
"And does Chase know of this?" He arched his brow quizzically.
"Chase wouldn't care if he did know." She held back the sob on that note.
She turned away from him and sipped at the wine as she pulled the freezer open. Cardboard. She pulled a frozen meal out, ripped off the top, and opened the oven.
"That stuff is detestable." He pulled it from her hand and dumped it in the garbage. "I'll take you to dinner tonight. Something decent. If Chase isn't."
A mocking laugh left her lips. Yeah, she could see that one happening. "I asked you to leave, remember? Chase isn't here, Khalid. I can't—"
She turned to him, stared back at him. Pride, she reminded herself, was such a double-edged dagger. "I can't—" She swallowed tightly, unable to say the words "be with him sexually," as simple as they were. "I won't… without him."
"Ah. I see." He nodded, his voice quiet, his black eyes sharp as he watched her. "You're falling in love with him."
"Not hardly." Okay, pride was a dirty word, but she was entitled to a little bit of it. After today, she should be entitled to a whopping load of it.
He frowned then. "Why should it matter if Chase joins us or not?"
She pushed her fingers through her hair and turned away from him again. Exactly, why the hell should it matter? But it did matter.
"Why the hell are you here?" She set her wineglass on the counter, refilled it, and stared back at him, fighting to contain her hurt and anger.
She didn't want to come off as a shrew, or a bitch. She wanted to have a nice little weeping session, in private, and then get on with her life. She didn't want to deal with Khalid or the complications that seemed to have developed in her life lately.
"I came to be certain you were all right." He finally shrugged his shoulders beneath the white silk shirt he wore and shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks. "You were upset when you left the restaurant, and I wanted to make certain he hadn't—" He grimaced. "That he hadn't taken a bite out of your very lovely pride. But I see that's exactly what he has done."
A bite? Drew had ground her pride into the dust, but that was no one's business but her own.
"And I'm still breathing. What do you think of that?" she retorted mockingly. "Go home, Khalid. Go find someone else to play with today."
"It doesn't always work that way," he told her broodingly.