The Terms 2 Read online

  “You can give me a job just like that?”

  “I have my own law office and real estate company, so yeah, I can hire you if I please.”

  Having lost my appetite from the knot in my stomach, I start to get up, but he stretches over and grabs my wrist. “Please sit. Don’t dismiss this because you think it’s too generous or because of the self-loathing shit that’s going through that pretty head of yours.”

  Pretty?

  “Look, I got messed up with drugs in college, and my family helped me get clean. We all need support from time to time, so take this opportunity. You can pay it forward once you get your life together.”

  “Wow, you have a lot of faith in me.”

  Giving a half shrug, he looks out the window.

  “Camilla seems great, so I figure you can’t be all that bad.” He braves a look at me, and if the sight of dimples could kill, I’d be struck dead by his and that smile that accompanies them.

  I’m going to regret this, but I’m beginning to think he’ll never let me out of this room without a yes. I twirl the ends of my long hair and stare at the table.

  “You’re coming around. I feel it. The Burke men always get their way.”

  I smile. Dammit, why am I smiling?

  “OK, I’ll stay with you.” I shake my head. “This is crazy, but I guess my sister deserves a longer break from me, and I don’t want Ellis angry before he even gets a chance to know me.”

  “Awesome, and thank you. I get more help at the office, and you get a place to crash. It’s a win-win.”

  “No, thank you, and I’ll do my best not to let you down.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Ellis

  While I’m examining the large painting Christopher was so hell-bent on winning, Greyson pokes his head inside my office.

  “Got a minute?”

  “Sure. I’m trying to figure out why Christopher was determined to take home this painting. He was up to something, and it’s the reason I had you bid against him.”

  Turning the artwork over, I lay it across my desk and survey the mounting board on the back. “This frame is deep. Do you think there could be something hidden inside?”

  “I guess it’s possible. Let’s open it. You can always have it repaired.”

  “Maybe I’m reading more into this.”

  “I’m sure he has a nest egg from working for both you and Tony, but I doubt he’d blow it on a painting for only the sentimental value.”

  Greyson helps me remove the mounting board with minimal damage, and the second I see inside, I swallow.

  “Holy shit, how much money is that?” he asks. Picking up one of the many bundles of one hundred dollar bills attached to the back of the mat, I fan them with my fingers.

  “There are a hundred bills to a band, so there’s ten grand in each one.”

  Greyson adds them up. “Two rows of ten... There are twenty bundles here. No wonder he wanted the damn painting. He thought he was going to profit almost two hundred thousand, especially if I hadn’t pushed the bidding up.”

  “He said Tony wanted him to have the painting, but I wouldn’t give it to him. I felt like a dick at the time, but Tony didn’t leave it to him in the trust, and I figured those benefiting from my mother’s literacy program deserved it more.”

  “What’s this?” Greyson peels off a white envelope that’s below the bills and tears it open. Inside is a slip of paper, along with a key he hands me. “There’s only an address on here. It’s in Isla Mujeres.”

  “I think that’s an island in the Caribbean. I wonder if he owns it.”

  “He never listed the asset in his trust.”

  Sitting at my desk, I open Google Earth on my laptop and type in the address, bringing up a virtual view of the property.

  “Damn, it’s a home, and from the looks of it, it’s an expensive one. Do you think he left it to Christopher?”

  “I don’t know, but I believe the fucker knew all this was here. Maybe Tony did tell him he could have it, but like you said; there’s no proof of that.”

  “I don’t trust him, Greyson. I’ve been keeping him around to see if he comes up with any information about Tony’s death, but his so-called friendship with Camilla is pissing me off. I can’t stand seeing them together, especially knowing he’s in love with her.”

  “Does this mean you’re forgiving Camilla?”

  I start removing the bundles of cash taped to the back of the mounting board.

  “I don’t know. I need time to think about it.”

  “At least that’s not a no. Uh, I came up to tell you something. Sasha’s going to come live with me temporarily so you can work on things with Camilla without having another distraction in the house.”

  “She agreed to this?”

  “It took some persuading, but she finally caved. I’ll make sure she works and goes to NA meetings.”

  I stare at him and consider his motives.

  “Whitney’s going to lose her shit when she finds out. Is that the angle you’re working here? Are you hoping she’ll dump you over it?”

  “Give me some credit. I have no ulterior motives here.”

  “Maybe not consciously.”

  “I’m helping her out–helping you out, man.”

  “I don’t know how Camilla will feel about it.”

  “Sasha’s an adult. She can make her own decisions.”

  “True, and I’d like to see that happen. She’s relied on Camilla way too much over the years.” I give him a look of warning. “All right, but don’t think about touching her.”

  “I’m only being a friend. Sasha and I couldn’t possibly have a thing in common.”

  “When has that ever stopped you from sleeping with someone?”

  He flashes a sly grin. “Point taken, but she’s different. She’s Camilla’s sister, and I know she’s fragile right now. I won’t mess with her head.”

  I hand Greyson six of the bundles of money.

  “Here … for the painting.”

  “Hey, now, I bought that painting. I think I’m entitled to it and all the money stashed inside.”

  Smiling, I pick up the rest. “Fine, here.”

  “Cuz, I was joking.” He shoves them back toward me, so I set all of them down but one.

  “Here, put this in an account for Sasha. She has nothing. She’s even borrowing Camilla’s clothing.”

  He laughs. “I think she’s wearing her own shirt today. It has a bright fucking unicorn and rainbow on it.”

  “That means you checked out her tits.” I smile since I’m only messing with him.

  “I couldn’t help it. Her shirt was glowing with all these neon colors.” His sly grin returns. “OK, and she has an amazing rack for her petite body. I might’ve noticed.”

  I point at him. “Don’t touch her.”

  “I know, I know.” He holds up the extra ten grand. “She’ll probably refuse this.”

  “Then I guess you’ll have to use your persuasion skills yet again. Oh, and thank you for helping me out earlier.”

  “Same here for last night.” He strolls out of my office with ten grand for Sasha and sixty for the painting. What’s a few extra thousand? It was all worth it to confirm what a slimy worm Christopher is.

  It’s time I find out everything about him. I figured if Tony trusted him enough to call him a close friend, then I could, too, but that’s not the case.

  After finding out he lied to Camilla for years, ignored my demands to stay away from her and now tried to undermine me with the painting, I’m doing a thorough check on him. I’ll call my FBI friend and set up a meeting for tomorrow.

  Camilla

  Liam and I are playing with his action figures on the hotel bed when I hear knocking. I leave Liam in the bedroom and head to the door, expecting it to be Sasha.

  “Hello, who’s there?”

  “It’s room service, ma’am.”

  “But I didn’t order anything.” I look through the peephole, and there’s a man
in a hotel uniform.

  “Someone called in an order for you.” Hmm … Ellis maybe? I inch the door open and spot the cart of food with him.

  “Sorry, I was only being cautious.”

  The young man smiles. “I understand.” I step aside for him to enter, and the amount of food delivered confirms that it’s from Ellis.

  I’m comforted by the gesture, even if he only did it for Liam. Hurrying to my purse, I find some cash and tip him before I wheel the cart to the living room.

  “Guess what, sweetie,” I yell, craning my neck to see Liam. “Ellis surprised us with dinner. Are you hungry?”

  “Yessss,” he says excitedly before he jumps off the bed, almost falling on his face.

  “Oh, be careful.”

  “Boss is nice.”

  “Yes, he sure is.” Of course, he booked us in a suite that’s close to the size of my previous apartment. An apartment I’m wondering if I should’ve kept. Who am I kidding? There’s no way Ellis would allow Liam to live there again. Where will we end up now?

  After I get Liam set up to eat at a desk in the living room, I fix myself a plate and sit on the couch. Holding my phone in front of me, I debate on texting Ellis. This is an excuse for me to reach out to him, so I’m taking advantage of it, even if it hurts me in the end.

  Me: Hi, thank you for dinner. Liam’s thrilled. He also loved the pool.

  Ellis: You’re welcome.

  I wait and wait, but he doesn’t text again. It’s time to open up to him, and maybe then he’ll do the same.

  Me: I need to tell you something. Besides Liam and my father, you’re the only male to ever breathe to me the three beautiful words I love you. Only you.

  I thought they’d be the most special words I’d ever hear from your lips, but I was wrong. There are two words that would mean more to me than any in our language. “Come home.” Please say them, Ellis. Please…

  Clenching my eyes shut, I breathe through the heartache so I don’t shed tears in front of Liam. Unable to eat, I look at my phone in my hands. I stare at the screen and stare some more. I wait and wait until my fingers hurt from gripping it so hard.

  He isn’t going to message me back.

  Me: I’m sorry. I’ll respect your wish for space, but don’t think for a second that I’m giving up on us.

  Tossing my phone across the cushions, I look at the plate in my lap. I glance at the room service cart, and the guilt creeps in over the food that will go to waste.

  I’ve felt true hunger before. When I first rescued Sasha from our parents, I went several days without food on more than one occasion as I moved us around, searching for jobs.

  I would eat ketchup on cheap, stale bread, or I’d survive on Ramen noodles for days straight. Sasha was always fed first. I didn’t rescue her from a horrific home life to let her starve to death, so if I had to skip lunch and dinner to ensure she had a meal, I did it.

  My phone rings, and I lunge across the couch to grab it. Sasha.

  “You must’ve sensed me thinking about you.”

  “Hi. I called to tell you I’m not coming over.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I’m going to live with Greyson for a while. He’s giving me a job, too, and I’m gonna go to NA.”

  “Wait, how did all this happen?”

  “He offered, and at first I refused, but he kept pushing until I accepted. He thinks you and Ellis could use the time alone to work on your relationship, and I agree. I’ve been a burden long enough.”

  “You’re never a burden.”

  “Right. I want life to be easier for you, and I think this will help, so I’m going.”

  “Listen … Greyson isn’t exactly single.”

  “He said he lives alone and that it was no inconvenience. He has to know better than to let a chick move in with him if another woman’s in the picture, even if our relationship is platonic.”

  “You’d think, but don’t spend too much time with him. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I’m not stupid. I’m aware he’s out of my league, and besides, you know the sober Sasha won’t get close to him.”

  “No man is out of your league.”

  “I have to go. Greyson’s ready for us to leave.”

  “Did Ellis speak to you?”

  “No, he’s been hiding out in his office. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s OK. Call me tomorrow so I can hear all about your job.”

  “I doubt I’ll know much by then. I imagine he won’t have me start right away.”

  “I love you, Sasha, and never forget that I’m here for you.”

  “I love you, too. I’m gonna make you proud, sis. This time I will.”

  We end the call, and I sigh. Her news didn’t ease my tension whatsoever. She’ll be back in my care in no time since the Whitney I met last night would never go for another woman living with Greyson.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Camilla

  The knock on the door startles me. I sit up in bed and pull on the pajama pants I had laying at the end of it. The clock reads 12:30 a.m.

  Not wanting to wake Liam, I forego turning on the light and instead walk carefully to the living room of the suite, feeling my way as I go.

  I flip on a lamp by the couch and hurry to the door about the time the person knocks again. Looking in the peephole, I see him. It’s Ellis, and I can’t open the door fast enough.

  The light in the hotel hallway reveals his handsome face. His blue eyes are weary, and his hair’s disheveled, but he’s still sexy in loose jeans and a black hoodie. A Denver Broncos graphic is across the front of his broad chest. He stares into my eyes without a word.

  “Ellis, hi. Is everything OK?”

  “Come home.”

  My body begins to tremble as his words sink in and we gaze at each other. Is he truly in front of me, saying what I long to hear, or is this a dream? He said the words, but his eyes expose his anguish.

  I should wait to be sure that he means it, but I can’t wait, so I throw my arms around his neck. He only hesitates a few seconds and then brings me in close, hugging me snugly. I feel his nose in my hair and his heavy breath on my neck.

  “Thank you,” I say. “Thank you for giving me another chance.”

  He stiffens but doesn’t let me go. After a few seconds, I pull back to get a better read on him. Not wanting him to disappear, I keep hold of his waist. He doesn’t look down at me. No … please no. “You’re not here for me, are you?”

  His head falls back, and he blows out a breath.

  “Let me inside.” I walk back into the suite so he can come in and shut the door. While my body shakes, I cross my arms and grip my biceps. My mind races with a hundred scenarios of what he’ll say and do.

  He strolls over, so I lower my arms, wanting him in my personal space more than ever. He slides his fingers through my hair and grips it, and I can’t help but lean my cheek against his warm hand.

  “I’m here for you, too, and I’m not leaving town, but I need space and time to think about everything. I want to believe we can get past this, but I can’t make any promises.

  “What Tony did, the years I missed with Liam, and not feeling like I can trust you spurred an anger that’s clawing at my insides.”

  “Ellis, there aren’t words to express how sorry I am for my part in this. My heart breaks for the time you lost, as well. But I refuse to be angry at Tony any longer.

  “What he did led me to you, and we created that special boy in the other room. I would never wish to change the past. I can’t regret it.”

  He exhales what I pray is a fraction of his anger.

  “I want to stay mad at you, and I hate how you make it so damn hard.”

  “I don’t believe that. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t hoping we could work things out.” With his fingers deep in my hair, he massages my scalp and wraps his other arm around my waist.

  His eyes tell his urge to resist, but I won’t let him go. I shove my body forward, d
etermined to show him how perfectly we mold together … how magical it is when we touch.

  He eyes my lips and dips his head to kiss them, and as soon as our mouths collide, relief washes over me. He slips his tongue inside, but it doesn’t become the fervent kiss I expect from him, where his hands are everywhere and I’m breathless in seconds.

  He’s not fisting my hair or bruising my lips with his carnal touch. Instead, it’s a languid kiss, one expressing apprehension or maybe appreciation, relief of his own. I can’t tell, and it’s increasing my anxiety.

  Regardless, there’s that slow burn in my belly that spreads to between my legs. My body doesn’t care what’s garbled in my mind.

  It only yearns for more of his touch. It needs to be possessed by his mouth and hands, his warmth and strength. I pull away and grab the back of his hair.

  “Take me right here. Make me submit. Punish me if it will bring you back to me.”

  He pulls my arms down, and the same hurt swims in his eyes.

  “Not yet. I told you I need time.” Dragging my teeth over my bottom lip, I nod swiftly. I’ll obey his wishes and find patience so I don’t scare him off. “I want to see him and take him home,” he adds.

  “He’s sleeping.” Ellis strolls toward the bedroom, and once he reaches it, he stares at the bed where Liam is curled into a ball on his side facing us.

  Light from the living room casts on him, and it’s enough to see our child’s parted lips and little hands resting near his face. Striding to him, Ellis drops to his knees next to the bed. He places a hand around Liam’s back and the other on his head and strokes his hair.

  Then I hear it; Ellis’s soft cries give sound to the silent space. His body shakes as he gazes at our child. Emotions overwhelm him, and his head falls forward to rest on Liam’s waist.

  “Liam…” His cries grow louder, more gut-wrenching. He continues to stroke his hair as he nudges him closer.

  “You’re my son. I have a son.”