Crashed (Entangled Indulgence)(61)
Every muscle in his body turned to stone beneath her hands. “Jesus. Alex…”
“We’re done.”
He flinched. “What?”
“I said we’re done. Now back the hell up.” She planted her hands on his shoulders and shoved again.
“You don’t mean that. We have a—”
“Don’t you dare say it.” She shoved again, hands shaking, stomach twisting.
He finally released her, taking a step back. And dammit, she missed him instantly. “Talk to me, Alex.”
She held his wild gaze, heart pounding. It suddenly hurt to even look at him. “If you try to force this, this messed-up arrangement, I will tell your sisters. You’ll lose them, Deacon, and you know it. As for the business, word about the place is spreading. We’ve had several big jobs come in this week alone, and we’re getting calls and doing quotes for more every day. So your excuse to sell this place, that we’re playing shop, has been shot to shit.”
“Alex,” he growled, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Would you stop for a minute and let me explain? You don’t understand—”
“Despite what you think of me, I do understand. I understand perfectly.” He tried to grab her, but she wrenched away, taking several steps back. “Don’t touch me.”
He shoved his hands in his hair. “Sweetheart, don’t do—”
“Deke!” Piper’s voice cut him off as she walked around the corner. “I didn’t know you were stopping by.”
Deacon’s gaze didn’t falter; those blazing green eyes remained locked on her. Shoving her hands in her pockets, she moved around him, ignoring the way he growled her name under his breath, and forced a smile.
“Well, I need to get back to work. I’ll leave you two to catch up,” Alex murmured and made her escape.
She saw him drive away a short time later.
…
The next day seemed to creep by at a snail’s pace and wasn’t made any easier by the constant barrage of calls and texts from Deacon. She’d turned her phone off in the end. No way was she ready to talk to him. She had no interest in whatever bullshit he had to say.
She was ecstatic when she could finally climb the stairs to her apartment and, after a long, hot shower, change into her pj’s and veg on the couch. I will not cry. Not over him. Not again.
Flicking through the channels, she searched for a show that didn’t have anything to do with love or sex or relationships of any kind. In the end she chose a gory horror flick. “No chance of any lovey-dovey stuff on that.”
The door to her apartment crashed open just as she was settling in. Rusty, with Piper hot on her heels, stormed in, wearing matching pissed-off expressions. They know.
Rusty rounded the couch and slammed a newspaper on the coffee table. “Have you seen this shit?”
Alex followed her friend’s finger, stabbing at a collection of pictures on the society pages. She blinked down at them, hoping she was having some screwed-up hallucination. No.
But she wasn’t and there in black and white was Deacon—and Emily. Her stomach dropped to her feet.
The first couple photos were of the two of them walking into a restaurant, his hand resting on her lower back. The next showed them climbing into a cab together, and the last was the pair of them out in front of his building. But this had been taken in the morning. Emily was wearing the same dress she’d had on in the dinner shots. Deke’s hair was wet, slicked back like he’d just gotten out of the shower, and Emily was wrapped around him, head pressed to his chest. They’d spent the night together.
I’m going to throw up.
“That’s who I heard in the background when he phoned.” She hadn’t realized she’d said it out loud until Rusty grabbed her arm.
“When? How long has that bitch had her claws back in my brother?”
Alex shook her head, still stunned by the images in front of her. “I don’t know. I just heard a female voice…I have no idea how long it’s been going on.”
“Why’d he call?” Piper asked behind her. “Did he say anything about Emily?”
She shook her head. “No. He called to see if we could fit his car in for a service.” What else could she say? “We didn’t talk about anything else.”
Rusty screwed up the paper and fired it in the trash. “If he’s going to keep shit-tastic secrets like this, then the lazy prick can service his own damn car.”
The pair talked for a while longer, but Alex barely heard a word they said.
How could she have been so blind? The scratches, the lipstick on the shirt. The female voice on the other end of the phone when he’d canceled their plans. All the signs had been there. She just hadn’t wanted to believe them.