Billion Dollar Revenge (The Lincoln Brothers #2)

17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Evan

I walk into the lobby on Monday morning, closing my eyes and sucking in a deep breath, trying to calm the tic in my neck at the strong masculine odor. Reopening my eyes, I spin around and face Bobby. “Are you here to apologize?”

“Well, yes, that, and something else.”

“Let's start with the event. You were out of line.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

My eyes narrow at his unfazed expression. Bobby seems too comfortable and agreeable. Uneasiness washes over me, making my skin prickle.

“I shouldn’t have had so much to drink.”

He didn’t seem that affected by alcohol. “Next time, limit yourself if you can’t be trusted. Otherwise, you’ll have to find another company to work for.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What else did you want?”

He steps forward, clutching papers. “I've got this article I wanted your opinion on.”

One thing he knows I can't do is turn down work. But I need to remember my boundaries and why I hired Shyla.

“You know you’re supposed to go to Shyla for help, right?”

“Yes, but she’s in a meeting and this is urgent.”

All the staff know if they ask for my opinion, I'm happy to share the knowledge and experience that was passed down from my dad. But very soon, I won’t be around as much. That’s why Shyla is running the day-to-day operations.

“Follow me into my office.” I turn and head to the elevator.

I don't speak. Bobby chooses to talk my ear off about his adventurous weekend.

He probably thinks if he opens up, I will too. Only, I won’t. I’ll remain tight-lipped. Chelsea isn’t up for discussion.

We arrive at my office. I take my chair, and he takes the one opposite to me.

He hands over his papers, and I lay them out, my elbows on my desk as I read.

The picture is surprisingly good. When I am done reading, I glance up.

He's got a smug look on his face that I want to wipe off him.

Not wanting to add to his over-inflated ego, I say, “It’s good. But I'd move the picture to the right. Other than that, go for it.”

I hand back the papers and twist to my computer, ready to begin packing it up.

I'm moving the last few pieces to my new office. I can’t wait to have no interruptions.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bobby still sitting there shifting awkwardly. “Is there something else?”

“I want to let you know that I’ve taken your advice and started leaving on time.”

“You should’ve been doing that all along.”

I want to add, you shouldn't have treated Chelsea the way you did . You shouldn't have cheated on her.

But this is not a conversation I want to have with him.

When he leaves, I recline back in my chair to take a breath before sending Chelsea a text to say hi and that I'm thinking about her.

It's a strange feeling to want to talk to her all the time and see what she's up to.

I still can't shake Bobby and his ultra nice attitude today. It was bizarre. But I don't have time to think about it. I'm meeting up with my brothers after work today to watch the NFL game at a midtown sports bar.

When I get inside the loud and dimly lit bar, I stride through groups of fans wearing jerseys, all cheering or talking to other patrons, and make my way toward the back, where all the wooden tables and chairs are. I spot Harvey first, and then, after a quick scan, I spot the rest of the group sitting together. I give my brothers and friend, Richard, a nod before taking the empty chair.

“What took you so long?” Oliver asks.

“I was stuck at work.”

I’m elbowed by Harvey. “You’re turning into a workaholic like Jeremy.”

I blow out my cheeks. “No fucking chance.”

“You haven’t missed much,” Richard says.

I look at the TV and see the scores for the Chicago Eels, the NFL team we follow. The score is six to zero. Eels are up. I have a good view of a large TV screen from where I’m sitting.

The guys clutch glasses of beer.

“I’m heading to the bar.”

It’s my way of asking if anyone wants a drink.

“Can you grab me a fresh beer?” Richard says.

I nod.

“Order food while you’re there,” Harvey adds.

I stand and walk to the bar, ordering drinks for Richard and me. They have a wide selection of beer, wine, and spirits. I pick a bourbon and wings with a side of fries.

Carrying the drinks back over, I settle into the chair and start listening to their work chatter.

The smell of wings, burgers, and fries waft through the air, mingling perfectly with the smell of beer from pitchers being passed around. Lively banter, cheers, and groans add to the excitement of the game. The office is where I have to focus on running a business. It's all serious and quiet. But here, I can chill out, loosen my tie, and enjoy the company of my brothers and friends.

The service is fast, and all our meals are out within minutes of me sitting down. A different selection of burgers, fries, wings and other finger foods.

I enjoy the sweet and salty taste of my wings, dipping them into blue cheese.

“Shit!” Harvey spits.

My hand pauses mid-way to my mouth. I look over to him to see he is grimacing and sliding down in his chair. His eyes are focused all the way across at the crowded bar. Where a group of people are drinking, talking and watching TV.

No one looks familiar to me.

“Hide me,” Harvey whisper-shouts.

I lower my wings and wipe my hands on the napkin.

Is he fucking serious?

Hide him where?

He slides himself under the table. I frown wide-eyed at him.

“I’m serious,” he seethes.

I bend down to look at him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask.

“My thoughts exactly,” Oliver adds.

“Jemima’s over there,” Harvey announces.

I sit back up and look around.

“Who?”

“The owner of Recaredo Events.”

Harvey is in a suit under a bar’s table, hiding from a woman. I burst out laughing.

Everyone’s heads whip around to me. I know, I know. I never laugh, but I’ve never seen anything more ridiculous in my life.

When I calm myself down, I ask him, “What does she look like?”

“Long brown hair, bright eyes, and curves for days,” he rattles off, and I roll my eyes at how infatuated he is.

“What’s she wearing?” I ask when I see multiple women with that description.

“A navy jacket and skirt.”

Found her. She’s at the bar with a blonde woman, leaning on the bar sipping Mojitos.

“Tell me when she leaves,” he whispers.

“Hate to break it to you, but it doesn't look like she's leaving any time soon.”

“She just got here and ordered a drink,” Richard adds.

“Fucking hell,” he says.

We all chuckle and shake our heads.

We’ve never seen him act this way. His usually cocky demeanor is nowhere to be found.

“Is there another way out of here?” he asks.

Peering around, I look toward the outside area, but he’d have to pass her to leave the bar or to head out back.

“No.”

“You can’t hide under the table until she leaves,” Oliver says.

“I will.”

He lifts and peers over at the bar before ducking back under, at the same time hitting his head on the wood.

“Fuck!”

I chuckle again, my eyes becoming misty. I haven’t ever laughed this much with my brothers.

Movement has my eyes flicking up.

“Oh shit,” I say.

“She's coming over,” Richard adds.

“Harvey, is that you?” The woman looks to be in her early forties. She crouches down and Harvey grabs my leg.

I roll my lips together, preventing another foreign laugh.

My brothers and friends are already laughing hysterically.

I guess she got her answer.

“Why are you under the table?”

“You know why,” he says.

She tips her head back and cackles. She finds this whole thing just as funny as we all do.

I pop a few fries in my mouth.

He finally pulls himself out. His face pinched tight as he scowls at her. He’s a lot taller than her, but she stands proud and eyes him down.

They are standing opposite one another, in an epic staring battle. While we all sit here watching them like it's a TV show.

“Your?” she starts.

Harvey finally speaks quickly, cutting her off. “Let’s not talk about it here.”

“Why?” she counters, crossing her arms.

He sighs heavily, as if annoyed by this conversation. “This is not the place, nor the time.”

Her eyebrow quirks as she looks at the table, clearly unbothered by the audience. “I’ll talk to you about this tomorrow.” Spinning on her heel, she struts away. He watches her like a lost puppy until she returns to the bar with her friend.

I watch Harvey's face, hard lines form, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he looks at her. He doesn’t look away until Richard speaks.

“She’s feisty. I like her.”

Harvey rubs the back of his neck as he takes his seat again. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

I just shake my head and go back to eating.

My wings and fries are cold now but still just as tasty.

The table resumes chatting and watching the TV screen.

I don’t miss the way he peers over in her direction.

She doesn't turn around once to look back at him.

I can tell he wants her. But I also know my brothers are as stubborn as I am.

He’s not interested in love right now; he's the playboy of us. But Jemima is different. She’s older, feisty, and smart. The opposite type to his usual hookups.

We settle in for the next hour, watching the Eels win.

Before I call it a night, I text Chelsea again. She tells me she has one class left at her old studio.

I decide to surprise her by swinging by and saying hi.

Saying goodbye to everyone, I leave the bar after ordering takeout wings and brownies.

From the bar to the studio, it only takes me fifteen minutes. I wait outside the studio in the corridor, and from my position, I can see her through the glass doors, but she hasn’t noticed me yet.

The door opens, and clients leave, smiling at me as they pass.

I clench my jaw when I spot a guy chatting her up. He’s physically close. Too close. She laughs. His hand is on her shoulder, and my body tightens. The image of my ex in bed with a co-worker invades my senses. It feels like it's on replay in front of my eyes. Is it happening all over again?

I shake my head. No. Chelsea’s different. She's not the same. We aren’t together. We have an arrangement.

Then why does this single image before me rattle me and leave me doubting what we share?

He finally leaves, passing me with a nod. I don't move an inch. I don't want to gesture to him.

When the studio is empty, I slip inside.

“Hey,” she says with a bright smile, walking over to me.

I hand over the box with wings. It’s dented where I dug my finger in when I watched her with the guy. She’s completely unaware of the turmoil running through me that I felt from witnessing the guy touching her.

Her lit-up face makes me push it out of my mind. I try to think of all the sweet words she's said to me.

She takes the container, and I pull her closer, my hand drifting to her lower back. I’m unable to stop myself from touching her.

“What’s this?” she asks, her voice tinged with suspicion.

“Wings.”

“Thanks. Where are they from?” she asks and pulls back, making me drop my hand.

“A midtown bar. I was there with my brothers. Figured you wouldn't have eaten yet.”

She opens the box, shimmying a little when she sees what’s inside.

“Buffalo wings and brownies. You spoil me.”

“Hey, I know how to treat a lady,” I say with a wink.

“So you’re not that rusty, then?”

I wince and grab my middle as if she hurt me.

She laughs, closing the lid and peering back at me. “Did you want to come in while I finish cleaning up?”

“I can’t. I have an early work call, and you need to clean up and get home.”

“Oh, sure. Thanks for the food,” she says hesitantly, like she’s picking up on the off vibe I’m giving.

I don’t want it to be a big deal so I speak before she can. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You will.”

I smile and kiss her cheek, inhaling her sweet scent. “Don’t stay up too late, wing queen.”

“Only if you promise not to dream about wings all night,” she teases back.

“Deal. But I can’t promise I won’t dream about you,” I say with a grin.

She blushes, and I wish I could erase my thoughts right now. I want to stay longer, but I just need a moment to get the past out of my head.

The next day, I’m barking at everyone because I’m running late to meet Chelsea. I hope she hasn’t left.

The car pulls up to my building, and I don’t see her.

I get out and walk to the doors. I’ve already found her number and brought the phone to my ear.

I pull it away instantly and hang up. She’s here. And she’s wearing another activewear set. Navy blue shorts and a matching crop top. It’s fucking distracting. No wonder I’m extra cranky today. Well, with everyone else…

“Hi.” She smiles.

“Your hair is different.”

Her hand glides along the top of her head. “Yeah, I pinned my bangs back.”

Her bangs are still there. I like her bangs.

Standing here, I realize I missed her and those beautiful eyes. The ones that short circuit my brain. And it hasn’t even been a day since I’ve last seen her.

“I like your suit.”

A deep chuckle vibrates from my chest.

“I always wear suits.”

“My favorite was the one you wore at the work party,” she says, a flush rising from her chest to her cheeks.

I nod in recollection of that night. It was the first time I held her in my arms as we danced. It’s been a long time since I embraced a woman. The desire to hug her right now burns within me.

Last night, I had my hands and lips on her. So why can’t I do it again today? I’m acting like a fucking teenage boy talking to his first girlfriend.

That’s how she makes me feel. Youthful, fun, and wanted.

“You ready?” she says, snapping me out of my thoughts.

She claps her hand together and smiles. “Yes. I can’t wait.”

She’s so bubbly and vibrant. It can’t be because of me, because no woman’s mood has lifted from my presence; if anything, it has always done the opposite, as if I annoyed them. I push away my wayward thoughts and concentrate on why she’s here.

We walk to the elevator, and I expect the comfortable silence, but she clearly has other ideas.

“You said you had an interior designer help you.”

“I chose the pieces and colors. But I had help getting it here and setting it up.”

She hums, twirling a piece of hair from her pony with her fingers. “I think I’ll need that.”

“I could give you her number. She’ll look after you. Just mention my name.”

She gives me a playful wink. “The connections.”

I give her a subtle smirk back.

The doors open on the top floor, and we exit the elevator.

I let her go first so I can watch her take it all in. Her eyes scan the room with a slightly open mouth.

“You have a full kitchen,” she gushes, running her hands along the commercial grade appliances. “Wow, this stovetop is incredible.”

I’m blown away too. I have everything I asked for in this office.

She ambles along the floors, and I follow beside her. The way I gaze upon the completed work with her adds an extra layer of excitement to the experience. Her energy today is magnetic.

We look in the kitchen, full bathroom, meeting rooms, and spare desks. One is for my PA—Gabby—if she needs to work from here and not at the other office.

“Look at the view,” she mumbles, walking to the window to the side of my desk.

“It’s beautiful from here.”

I lean against my desk, watching her stare at the city skyline.

To me, she is the view. The most beautiful view.

I stay silent as she scans the city. My gaze dips over her body. No matter how many times I’ve seen it, it’s never enough. Worse since I’ve held her.

I bring my gaze back to her face, taking in her delicate nose, parted pouty lips, and lashes that show off her soft brown eyes. Her tied-up hair allows me to get a good look at her slender neck. Heat surges through me as I imagine my mouth on her throat again. Over that beating pulse, I can see in her neck…

She turns around and pinches her lips together as she wanders over to me.

Sitting beside me, she runs her hand over the wood. “This is a big desk.”

I move so my hip leans against the desk.

“Custom-made.”

“Is it sturdy?” she asks with a smirk.

I drop my eyes over her exquisite body again. “Let’s test it out.”

Her hand reaches out to grab my tie, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

She tugs hard on it, encouraging me closer.

She’s bold today.

I don’t hesitate, grabbing her by her waist, lifting her effortlessly so she sits on my desk. I study her face as I part her legs and step between her thighs. Holding on to my navy tie in one hand, she leans back on the other. Her rich scent fills my nose. It draws me in. And I do what I’ve been wanting to do since I saw her today. My mouth advances to her neck, and I lay a kiss there, where her pulse thumps under my lips. The fast and hard rhythm matches my own.

I proceed to kiss her neck slowly. She pants as I continue peppering her with warm kisses until I reach the base of her neck. When I pull back, I find her eyes heavy with lust.

Her rosy mouth begs to be kissed.

Fuck it. I’ll have her this one time. I lean forward and encourage her to lie back…

“Hey. Oh, shoot.” Oliver walks in just as I’m about to spread her out on my desk.

I jump away and my heel connects with the chair. Double fuck.

The pain shooting in my Achilles reminds me how annoying brothers can be. But it's not his fault I left the door unlocked.

“I’ll come back later,” Oliver says, turning his head.

Oliver is always busy, so if he’s here, he probably needs something. I can’t turn away a brother.

“Oliver. Wait,” I shout, stepping back to help Chelsea sit up. I adjust my tie as she slips off the desk to stand. Her cheeks are flushed, and she looks out the window, avoiding eye contact with me. A soft sigh leaves my mouth. I almost had her.

He stops at the doorway and turns around with some hesitation.

I nod in a ‘it’s fine, come back’ way.

Oliver’s shoulders drop. Yeah, he needs to talk to me about something.

“I-I’ve got to get back to my class anyway,” Chelsea says.

“I can walk y?” I offer without thinking. I hate the thought of her walking alone.

“No. Stay. I’m fine,” she cuts me off with a wave of her hand.

I glance at my watch. Shit, she’s right. Even though I want to, I can’t. I have a video meeting too, but Oliver will fill the final ten minutes.

Staring at her in an ‘are you sure?’ kind of way, she laughs, shaking her head before she lifts a gentle hand to my cheek.

“I’ll talk to you soon.”

She pulls away, and my jaw tics from her touch on my face.

“Nice to see you again, Oliver,” she says as she walks her way to the elevator, and it’s not until the sounds of the doors closing does Oliver bring his gaze to me and walk farther in.

His eyebrows rise. “Looks like I interrupted something…”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” I murmur, looking down and fixing the papers that we moved on my desk. “I have ten minutes, and then I have a meeting to get to.”

He smirks. “I’ll make this quick, then.”

I sit in my office chair and try not to linger my gaze to where Chelsea was reclining with her thighs apart. I was so close to finally kissing her again.

“I’ve got this gallery I want to buy, but the owner is old school and thinks I’m a young guy who plays the field and only pretends to be interested in art.”

“And?” I encourage, wanting him to get to the point as quickly as possible.

“I’m thinking of asking Karley to pretend to be my wife until I get the gallery.”

I exhale. “You mean your best friend’s sister?”

“She’s smart, pretty, and she knows a lot about art.”

I snort. “She hates your guts.”

He shrugs. “I’m willing to pay her.”

Is he kidding? “She’ll slap you if you say that.”

“You think?”

“You’re an idiot sometimes. Just be honest with her and tell her the truth.”

I bet she gives him a hard time. But I keep that piece of information to myself.

His eyebrows pull together. “And she’ll just do it?”

“Yes, but I bet she makes you pay for it in return.”

He sighs heavily. “This gallery is important to me.”

“Why?”

“It’s the biggest one in New York. It will finally get my name taken seriously.”

I frown. “And it isn’t already? We’re the Lincolns.”

“Not in Art.” He sits up, a discouraged look on his face.

“I’m the CEO of The New York Press.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not talking about newspapers. I’m talking about the art world. Auctions are huge there.”

“Well, I guess you better sweet talk that enemy of yours,” I say with a pause. “And maybe her brother.”

He winces. “He won’t allow me to fake marry her.”

“Maybe you have your answer, then.”

“I have no other options and I’m running out of time.”

“I’m not worried about him.”

Oliver tilts his head, not understanding my insinuation about me being worried about her. But I now have no more time. He has to leave. “Good luck and try not to hurt her again.”

“It was one time.”

I touch my temple. “Women remember everything.”

“You think?”

I roll my eyes at how young he really is sometimes. “I know. Now let’s get out of here. I have a meeting. Make sure you keep me updated.”

He leaves, and I take a second to breathe from that heated moment with Chelsea. She put herself out there, and, fuck , I wanted to finish what she started on my desk. I'm still trying to control my racing heart and cool down before this meeting.