Torn (Lords of the City #1) (27 page)

“Careful with your words. I’ll have food sent over.”

Corey folded his arms, his muscles bulging. “I can take care of myself.”

“I suppose you can,” Noah replied with his cold neutrality. “Imogen,” he beckoned and turned to leave.

Waving silently, I followed Noah out, grateful it hadn’t been left for me to explain to Corey why I couldn’t stay, aligning with Noah’s decision not to say anything. There were ways I could let Corey down without revealing my agreement with Noah. People lost interest for many reasons. As long as we remained quiet, there was still hope the brothers could heal their relationship. That’s what Noah wanted, despite his behavior. He’d given me my family back so I would do everything I could to return the favor.

“I’ll take you home,” he said in the foyer. “I’ll arrange for your car to be towed back to your apartment.”

“Okay,” I agreed, believing the helicopter ride back would give us an opportunity to discuss everything.

It didn’t. Once we were fastened into our seats, rising above the estate, Noah resumed his earlier iciness, as if I were an inferior enemy.

“We need to talk about this,” I insisted, trying to lock my eyes onto his.

He refused to connect, instead focusing on the adjustment of his sleeves. “I’m not interested in an argument. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I cried out.

“Imogen, I am your boss. You will not speak so harshly with me,” he demanded, executing his authority.

I fought back tears, confused by the wall he was building between us. “This isn’t an argument. I agree that we shouldn’t tell him,” I said, trying to put him at ease.

“Tell him what? That we have an agreement that expires in less than a year?”

I was taken aback, punched in the chest for the third time that day. “Is that all you see between us? An agreement?”

“I never promised you more.”

I wasn’t buying it. Noah loved me. I knew it. “Don’t push me away,” I screeched. “Corey is a tough guy. He’ll understand if I tell him I’m only interested in being friends. He never has to know why.”

He continued to fiddle with the cuffs of his sleeves, like the conversation completely disinterested him. I wanted to smack his hands away so that he was forced to look at me.

“Imogen, I have a business to run. That is all I have time for. You are released from our agreement and your position as my personal assistant. I’ll put in a transfer to any department you choose, but I must remind you that you’re bound by a non-disclosure clause in your contract. That includes telling my brother anything that has happened between us.”

“Or what? You’ll make my family suffer?” I snapped, thinking of the threat he made to his executives at that first meeting I’d taken notes.

On the brink of a breakdown, I wanted nothing more than to jump out of the helicopter. It wasn’t fair for Noah to be doing this when I couldn’t escape. I was his prisoner, trapped underneath his power. I hated him for it, but only because I loved him. Defeated, I turned away from him, trembling in anger and hurt, unable to say more.

As soon as we landed on my building, I jumped out and ran to the rooftop door. By the time the security device scanned my arm and opened it, the helicopter was gone. I stared up at the black of the night, wishing he could read my thoughts.

You idiot. I would have chosen you.

***

Floral fragrances bombarded me the moment I stepped through the apartment door. It didn’t help matters at all. The invasion of bouquets too closely resembled the lotus blossoms Noah had used to seduce me. I called out for Julia, desperately needing her support, but she wasn’t home, likely out with Ronald, celebrating their step forward.

Feeling like a fool, I remembered my phone conversation with Noah earlier, of how I thought he was going to ask me to move in with him after I told him about Julia moving out, only for him to deny me. Noah did love me, but love was not always enough. As coarse as gravel, the truth scrubbed against my heart, turning it raw and bleeding. Noah was a king, but I would never be his queen. No one would. He sat on his throne alone.

Normally, I would never pull a friend away from her happiness, but I called Julia. “I need you to come home. It’s an emergency.”

She didn’t question it. “I’ll be right there.”

In the kitchen, I grabbed the bottle of wine we had opened that afternoon and went out onto the balcony, confronting Chicago and its horrid night. “Fuck you!” I yelled after gulping down what remained of the bottle. “I should have stayed in Thailand.”

By the time Julia found me, I was slumped down on the balcony sobbing. Destiny was cruel. Noah and I were finished, but that didn’t leave me free to be with Corey, not when I had slept with his brother and couldn’t tell him. It would be dishonest to pursue anything other than friendship if he didn’t know the truth.

“Imogen!” Julia cried. She sat beside me and put her arms around my shoulders, consoling me. “Is this because I decided to move out? I won’t, not if you’re this upset.”

“You should move out. Ronald is a great guy. He adores the ground you walk on, and he’s not afraid to commit.”

“Then why the tears?”

“Noah is a jerk,” I told her.

She looked relieved, likely glad she hadn’t caused my pain. “Oh yes, that. What did he do?”

“It’s more of what he didn’t do. But there’s more. Corey is back.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean Corey is back? Like he’s contacted you and is back in the picture?”

“No, he’s here, in Chicago. He returned for me, just like he said he would.” I reached for the wine bottle, forgetting it was empty. When nothing poured out, I tossed it against the railing. Luckily, it didn’t break.

“Wow,” Julia breathed. “That’s major.”

“For him. It wasn’t for me, not when I’ve been sleeping with his brother. But that’s over now. Noah terminated our agreement. I’m no longer his personal assistant. I’m free to move on to any department I want.” I huffed. “Like I’m going to do that.”

Julia frowned. “You’re not considering staying on as his personal assistant, are you?”

“No. I’m going to quit. I can’t work for him, not after this. Plus, if I quit, I’m no longer bound by his non-disclosure agreement. I can tell Corey everything.”

Julia squeezed my shoulders. “I hate to say it, but you still have to keep quiet. That part of the contract isn’t terminated just because you leave the company.”

“What would happen if I broke it? I’m not trying to sell his nanotechnology. I just want to tell Corey the truth.”

“Do you?” Julia asked meaningfully. “Maybe you and Corey have a shot at something real. And Noah certainly won’t say anything. From what you tell me, he wanted Corey to return home, he just never believed he actually would. Plead the fifth. No one gets hurt. Everyone is happy, except Noah, who dies alone and miserable for being such a tyrant.”

I sighed. “I guess I won’t say anything. I’m angry at Noah, and I want to hurt him, but it wouldn’t be right to tell Corey.” I looked at her, suddenly more melancholy than angry. “I’m leaving Stafford Scientific. I’m going back to Milwaukee.”

Her sadness matched my own. “Yesterday, I would have begged you not to go, afraid of losing my roomie, but after today, I have no room to speak. You know I’ll visit you all the time.”

“And I’ll visit you,” I vowed. “And Peter.”

“But don’t go yet,” Julia added as if it were an afterthought. “You made me promise to stay another two weeks, and I’m going to make you do the same. It can’t end like this. We need to have some fun before we leave this place.”

“I like the sound of that, but I doubt Noah will let me stay after I message him my resignation tomorrow.”

“He’ll let you stay,” Julia assured me. “I don’t understand why Corey being here made him flip the switch, but he loves you. He’s not going to toss you out.”

“This is such a mess,” I muttered as my head fell into my hands. “What should I do about Corey? Yes, he should have kept in contact, but technically he did nothing wrong. He feels trapped when he’s here, and yet he came home to find me. I can’t just ignore him.”

“There’s no reason you should,” Julia determined. “Send in your resignation, then go visit Corey and spend some time with him. Be friends. You don’t owe him anything more than camaraderie, but you should offer him that.”

“Friends,” I decided. Then, much more sarcastically, I added, “That doesn’t sound complicated at all.”

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

B
arely anything remained in my room. As soon as I’d woken that morning, I’d hauled any item of clothing paid for by Stafford Scientific to the front room for Julia to pick out what she wanted. Whatever was left over, if anything, would go to charity. The last of the items in my room were those I’d brought with me from Milwaukee, ready to be packed in two weeks’ time.

Flopping down on my bed, I grabbed my laptop and hammered out my resignation, feeding my hurt and frustrations into the letter. Before I lost my courage, I sent it to Noah, rendering myself jobless once more.

From my laptop bag, I pulled out the business card of a woman I’d spoken to at the convention. She’d advised me not to settle, that I would one day find work I was passionate about. That’s what I needed to focus on — my career. Forget settling. I’d go anywhere I needed to if it meant working to improve the environment, even Antarctica. Compared to the chill of Noah yesterday, Antarctica seemed warm.

Imagining Corey alone in the manor, I set my laptop aside and, wearing white denim shorts and a loose fitting tank top, I drove to Stafford Estate.

“Hello!” I called as I entered. “Corey? Are you here?”

There was no answer, so I searched the manor. When I returned to the foyer, there was still no sign of Corey, but I did find a box full of photo albums. There had been some disturbance in the library. When I had cleaned it, the shelves were empty of books, but now there were boxes spread around. Corey must have pulled them down from the attic, the one place in the house I had left alone. I’d poked my head into it, but seeing it was used for storage, I’d climbed back down the stairs, respecting the privacy of the family. But photo albums, especially those left out in the open, were too tempting to refuse.

I sat on the lower steps of the staircase and set the box on the floor in front of me, upon which colored silhouettes from the stained glass of the dome above danced around as the sun penetrating through. The hoard of photo albums at my grandma’s house were bought at department stores, the covers decorative but laminated in plastic. These photo albums were bound in leather, the family name embossed in gold on the front and spine.

In the first album I picked out, Corey and Noah were young boys, probably seven or eight years-old. Playing in the yard in khaki pants and woolen sweaters, they looked merry as they jumped into a pile of leaves and threw them around the place. It was utterly impossible to tell them apart. Everything they did together, every arm raised, every kick of the leaves, every smile was completely in unison. There was only one photo in the series that didn’t have the brothers in it together. In that one, a tiny finger covered half the shot, as if the camera had been held the wrong way, but the corner showed a Filipino-looking woman who smiled with love.

Your nanny.
From what I’d heard of Mr. and Mrs. Stafford, the photos within these albums had likely been taken and assembled by the nanny.

Snapshots within another album portrayed the boys a little bit older. They continued to act in harmony, but one didn’t smile as brightly as the other. It was a subtle difference, but the cloud of uncertainty that tugged at his smile was unmistakable. Something troubled him.

Flipping through the rest of the albums, the photos showcased a very cultured and educated life, from orchestra performances where the boys played the cello to formal tuxedo dinners. There was also fun, including several photos of Noah at his graduation in his hot dog costume. But when I reached the very last album in the box, I found another peculiarity. In it, a single brother appeared in each photo, likely in his pre-teen years. A small gap in his teeth told me it was the same twin repeated throughout the album, the other missing.

“That’s so strange,” I muttered, turning the pages back and forth to make sure I wasn’t missing anything.

Leaving only questions and no answers, I returned the albums back to the library. The rest of the boxes that had been pulled down contained old books. It would appear Corey was an avid reader. Most had his name scribbled inside the cover. It didn’t surprise me. Despite his heedless, rugged ways, there was a deep intelligence behind the green of his eyes.

I checked my phone. There were no messages. It was a relief, but it was also upsetting. Noah must have gotten my resignation. He was meeting it with silence.

To bide time while I waited for Corey to return from wherever he had gone, I went to the conservatory. The washcloth remained where I had dropped it yesterday. I picked it up and dusted off the last of the sculptures, completing my work. There wasn’t as much satisfaction as I’d thought there’d be. Noah hadn’t even acknowledged my efforts.

Grabbing one of the larger plants, I lugged it into the foyer. Though I had cleared out the old stumps where narrow trees had once stood beneath the dome, I was nowhere skilled enough to plant new ones, so I’d cleaned the area and left it as it was. But while sitting on the stairs with the photos, an idea had come to me. I set the plant down to act as a tiny tree and headed back towards the conservatory for another, but I stopped.

What was I doing? Besides a friendship with Corey, I had no association to the manor. Not anymore.

It was time to leave. Preparing to do so, I gathered my belongings, but the hum of a motorcycle pulling up outside prevented my exit. It had to be Corey. Stubborn and rigid, Noah would never get on the back of a motorcycle. According to him, they were as safe as running head first into a moving train.

Eager to see Corey again, I went outside. Sporting blue jeans and a black T-shirt that showed off his broad shoulders, the rebel brother hopped off a slick black racer bike and pulled off his helmet.

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