"How much?" I gritted through my teeth.
"Fifty million dollars."
I tried to school my emotions, temper my expression, tone down my temper. What the hell had I gotten myself into?
"How do I know you're telling the truth?" I asked.
"Well, you see, that's the tricky part of amnesia, isn't it? But I guess I could always go to your lovely girlfriend and ask. She was around back then, wasn't she? What was her name? Everly? She was a hot piece of ass, if I remember correctly."
He obviously hadn't just been calling. He'd been watching-waiting for the right opportunity to ambush me with this information-and now he knew he'd hit the right button to make me flinch. The right nerve that just might cause me to cave. I had no idea who this man was and what he was capable of, but based on the way Everly cringed at the mere mention of his name and his maniacal laugh, I wasn't taking any chances.
"What do you want?" I asked, knowing he had me. Knowing I'd do anything to keep Everly safe, even if it meant giving up everything.
"You always were a little sensitive when it came to her," he said, a mischievous grin on his face. "You're going to come back to work, like a good little boy, and we'll talk about this amnesia no more. No one ever needs to hear about it. As far as your clients are concerned, you took an extended vacation after your very traumatic hospital stay, and are now well rested and ready to make them as much fucking money as humanly possible."
"And when they discover I have no skills as a stockbroker whatsoever and lose every single penny of their well-earned fortune?" I asked, each word coming out like a dark staccato note, drilling me deeper into hell.
"They won't know their head from their own ass, because I'll be pulling all the strings. As soon as they discover the much loved August Kincaid is finally back, your beloved clients will come rushing back to us with open arms, and we'll be flooded with so much fucking business we won't know what to do."
"So, I'm just your puppet?" I asked, my eyes darkening as his lightened with glee.
"Yes. You see, you were always the face and I was the brains. People don't like me much, which is why I brought you on board. You, with the good looks and the wholesome ideas. You were exactly what I needed. People believed you when you told them you would make them money, even when we were robbing them blind. And the amazing part … they just kept coming back for more."
His bone-chilling calm as he spoke about robbing people of their life savings was eerily scary. And the fact that I'd once helped him do this, with the same smile on my face, made me ill.
"You know the front door is open?" Everly's voice cut through the tension as my eyes went wide with panic. I turned just in time to see her step onto the patio, her face bright with life until she met Trent's eyes and then everything seemed to drain from her like water leaking from a sieve.
"What is he doing here?" she seethed, her words barely audible from between clenched teeth.
"It's nothing," I said, frozen in place as I watched her eye him from across the room. "He just came to visit."
"He came to visit?" she repeated, turning to me in horror. "And you allowed him inside?"
"Everly-so good to see you," Trent smiled wickedly, making my fists clench greedily. I hadn't tested out whether or not I liked making a good stiff punch to the face yet, and I was thinking Trent seemed like a good candidate to try that one out on.
"Why don't you go upstairs and wait, while I say good-bye to my old friend," I said calmly, even while rage and panic twisted and turned my gut, making me feel anything but calm.
She froze as my suggestion struck an obvious nerve. All I wanted was for her to be as far away from Trent as possible. I just wanted her safe. I always wanted her safe.
Seeing her standing so close to this man, bathed in fear, made me erratic. In my haste to protect her, her reaction told me I'd uttered the one thing that made her feel anything but safe.
"What did you just say?" she whispered, a tear already leaking from the corner of her eye. I could see her trust dissipating, receding as she took several steps back.
My gaze darted to Trent, who was watching our entire exchange with an expression of amusement painted across his fucking face. Then he focused solely on Everly as she backed away from us, his gaze slowly roaming up her body, and I saw red.
"Please, upstairs. Now." She flinched at my harsh words, turning toward the door and running. I could hear her sobs echoing from the stairwell.
"I want you to leave. Get the fuck out of my house and leave," I said, not bothering to look in his direction.
Trent walked to the slider and stopped. "I'll have my secretary call you on Monday. Don't disappoint me, Kincaid. You may not remember but I don't take kindly to those who owe me a debt-even if that debtor happens to be a friend."
"We are not friends."
"We'll see about that. Make sure you tell Everly I said good-bye-and take care of our girl … wouldn't want anything to happen to her." And then he disappeared inside. I listened for the front door to close before running up the stairs, two at a time to find her. I skidded to a halt in front of the master bedroom. It was the last place I expected her to be, but there she was, immobile as she stood beside the king-sized bed, looking down at the unfinished project I had yet to show her.
"What is all this?" she asked, focused on the black frames scattered all over the bed.
"A late birthday present. I wanted to give the room life again. When I took all the photos down and put everything in that box, the room lost so much. It lost its light. I just thought these would give it so much more."
Her fingers traced the closest picture-a close-up of our faces as we kissed. The original portrait had been much more erotic, taken from one of the nights we'd photographed our lovemaking, but I'd cropped it because I'd loved her expression-the overwhelming need that seemed to consume her. That alone was eroticism.
"But why here? Why in this place?" she persisted, her voice distant and reserved.
"There were once good memories here. I want to make them again someday."
Her eyes swept over the numerous frames, taking in the dozen or so pictures I'd picked of the two of us, before she silently moved around the room. Stopping at a bare spot on the wall, where the paint was slightly duller, she stared at the square where the last photo had rested. Tears began to stream down her face.
"You're just like him. And I'm going to end up just like her," she sobbed into her hands.
"No, no, we aren't. We are what we make ourselves, Everly. Don't you see that-our past has nothing to do with what we are today."
"You're wrong," she cried, shaking her head. "It's already happening. I can see it already beginning."
She was pacing now, her eyes blazing as I tried to follow her rambling.
"See what? You're not making any sense."
"Why was he here, August? Tell me! What was Trent doing here?"
I opened my mouth to answer, but stopped short-my previous vow remaining true. I'd do anything to keep her safe. Even if it meant giving up my own future.
Even if it meant giving up everything.
"I can't do that," I said softly.
"Can't, or won't?"
"Does it matter?" I asked, feeling my heart falter with every false word.
"No," she conceded, her gaze falling to the floor, like all of our hopes and dreams. "But I can't be here if he's back in your life. I won't. That man singlehandedly ruined our life once already. I won't stand around and watch him do it again."
I simply nodded, accepting the fate I knew was sure to come. The fate I'd accepted the moment I realized I couldn't protect her and claim her all in one breath.
What's your girlfriend's name again? Trent's cold words wormed their way back through my mind, making me suddenly very aware of just how similar I might be with my past self. Was this how the old August had felt? When he'd locked her away all those times? Was what he'd done really a desperate attempt to save her, rather than a sick plot to keep her in chains?
"Why are you doing this?" she asked. "Why would you trade everything we have just like that? Just like … before?"
I shook my head, hating myself. Hating that she truly believed I was choosing a life of power and wealth over her. "Sometimes it's not about one or the other, Everly. Sometimes it's just what's meant to be."
"There's always a choice," she said softly.
I watched her gaze around the room in silence, almost as if she was reliving pieces of the past. Each brush of her hand against the furniture felt like a good-bye. Every touch of her fingertips along the bed linens was a farewell. She was leaving and I wasn't going to stop her.