Kash walked in with those words, his eyes falling on me and holding there. I was pinned in place, and I felt a rush of heat, of pain, of bitterness, but also of flutters and excitement. A whole rush of emotions all blasted me at once, and I had to pull my gaze away just to try and get ahold of myself.

  I was all flustered.

  What the hell?

  Matt stood, sounding a whole lot more reserved. “Like what?”

  I glanced up.

  Matt had moved so he was half blocking me. His hands were in his pockets. His shoulders were bunched forward. He looked casual, laid-back, but I knew better. Whatever exchange had just happened between Kash and me, Matt saw it, and he was protecting me.

  My stomach was cramping up.

  “Why are you shielding Bailey from me?”

  Oh. Crap.

  A sudden silence fell over the room.

  I swallowed over a lump, shoving that down.

  Peter coughed.

  Matt didn’t respond, not right away. He shuffled to the side, still blocking me. “What are you talking about?”

  I almost snorted.

  “You know what I’m talking about.” Kash’s voice went low.

  Goose bumps rose over my arm, along with a shiver going down my spine. But I was hot, and feeling achy, and also wanting Kash at the same time.

  “Bailey,” said Peter, in a quiet voice, “can you enlighten us on what is going on?”

  I shoved out of the chair and surged to my feet.

  My heart was beating fast.

  I took a breath and stepped around Matt. Seeing Kash, seeing how gorgeous he was, his piercing eyes, how all those hours in the gym and swimming had sculpted his body so that even just standing there he was the definition of graceful deadliness …

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, but I lifted my gaze. Catching how stormy his eyes were, locked on me, pinning me in place again, but sliding inside and, as if he could read my thoughts, feel my feelings, I gulped. My own vision grew blurry at the edges.

  “Bailey.” A soft prompt from Matt.

  I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

  My throat ceased working.

  What was happening to me?

  I was moving.

  My foot went forward.

  My next, right after.

  I was going past Matt, around Kash.

  “Bailey?” Peter called after me.

  I should stop.

  I should explain.

  I did neither.

  I kept going, into the hallway. Past the guards. Past the elevators.

  Fitz was coming after me. “Bailey? What’s going on?”

  I couldn’t stop.

  I pushed through the door to the stairs, but I didn’t go down. I should’ve gone down.

  I went up.

  All the way, all eight flights, until the roof access door loomed over me, and I didn’t pause. I shoved it open. Fitz was right behind me. I could almost feel his confusion, but get in line, buddy.

  I had no clue what I was doing.

  My body wasn’t answering my own commands.

  I was on the roof and I went to the edge, and there, once there, I stopped.

  My hands grasped the railing. I was staring out over the back parking lot, and I closed my eyes. I threw my head back and I gulped, taking in the fresh air.

  I suddenly couldn’t breathe.

  I couldn’t move.

  Everything was pulsating around me, pushing down on me, pushing from behind, from below, even from in front of me.

  Kash was here. I could feel him.

  I wasn’t looking, but I heard the crunch of footsteps on the roof. Fitz was leaving. I could feel him easing back and Kash coming forward. He was coming slow, and the door shut again.

  I was tense, waiting.

  Nothing.

  He didn’t say a word, demand an explanation.

  I couldn’t take it.

  I was biting my lip.

  He needed to say something.

  He had every right to be upset with me.

  Still.

  He said nothing.

  God.

  Fuck him.

  Fuck me.

  Fuck everything.

  I whirled, tasting a sudden warm explosion of metal, and I knew I’d broken skin. I bit down on my tongue, but I didn’t feel the pain.

  I should’ve felt the pain.

  He was right there, watching, looking like a goddamn saint. Like he had all the patience in the world. Like he knew what was going on inside of me. But that was preposterous. Right? Right?

  I meant to offer an explanation, or an apology.

  But those words didn’t come out of my mouth.

  “She’s gone because of you.” Oh my God!

  I reeled on the inside, my actual body skidding back and finding the railing behind me.

  I said that? I couldn’t have, but his face shuttered closed. “I know.”

  No.

  No!

  “Don’t be the victim here.” I was shaking my head again and couldn’t control what was coming out of my mouth.

  His eyes flared, surprised. “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are.” I burst forward two steps, pointing at him. “You can’t do that. It was your grandfather. If you hadn’t fallen in love with me, then he wouldn’t have…”

  What was I saying? Shit. I was cringing, but I couldn’t stop myself and kept going.

  “I can’t even say if we hadn’t had sex, because you’re you. I have to say if we hadn’t met, because if I met you, I was going to fall in love with you. So, you. It’s on you. You loved me. You let him know that. He hurt me to hurt you, and he took her away from me!”

  I couldn’t—Those words!

  I gasped, my hands clamping over my mouth.

  I didn’t think like this or feel like this. But these words, they were coming out of me.

  My mom.

  Chrissy.

  She was gone, and I … And now there was nothing.

  I wanted to stay. I wanted to go in his arms, reassure him I didn’t mean what I was saying, apologize for them. I didn’t do any of that.

  I didn’t leave, either.

  He was just staring back at me. His eyes were dark and haunted.

  He spoke, his voice so quiet. “You don’t think I know this?”

  “What?”

  He took a step toward me. “Or that I don’t think this myself?”

  “Kash.” A soft sigh from me.

  “You don’t think I hold you at night and curse myself, knowing I should let you go? That if I hadn’t met you, and fallen in love with you, that she would still be alive?” Another step. He was close to me, and he was whispering now. “It’s my fault. And it tortures me every fucking minute, Bailey.”

  His eyes were so fierce, staring into mine, but he didn’t touch me. I didn’t touch him. Cold, biting Chicago air swung between us, back and forth, back and forth.

  “She’s gone because I loved you. It’s that fucking simple.”

  I couldn’t look at him anymore. I couldn’t see his pain because then I would feel it, and I was already feeling him, and it was doubling my own pain.

  I closed my eyes and I looked away. The silence was deafening, and I didn’t know where we could go from there.

  “I have a brother.”

  My head reared up.

  A brother?

  He was staring at me, but he was closed off. “A twin. My grandfather raised him, and he came to me. I had him. I don’t know the reason why he’s here, but he is, and I thought you should know.”

  My mind was a mess. There was too much going on.

  I needed to regroup. I needed to fix this.

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  My heart was squeezing, but I couldn’t answer him.

  I closed my eyes.

  “No…”

  I opened them, but empty air greeted me back.

  I never heard him leave.

  QUINN CALLAS’S DEFENSE WILL PROVE INNOCENCE

  Quinn Callas’s defense team claims innocence, sets motion to pick jury members.

  In an unprecedented move, the defense team for Quinn Callas wants to hold a jury trial, claims Quinn Callas is not guilty. Sources say Quinn “left a very toxic home environment with the Francis family. She just wanted to get out of there.”

  We’ll continue to follow this story.

  —Inside Daily Press

  TWENTY

  Bailey

  We were at Naveah, and it was wrong.

  Everything was wrong.

  I messed up. I totally and completely fucked up.

  I was a horrible, horrible human being.

  A horrible girlfriend.

  A horrible lover.

  A horrible sister—No. I looked at Matt. I was a decent sister.

  But back to Kash. I needed to fix it. Fix things. Fix everything. Kash wasn’t taking my calls, and I had tried. I’d been trying for the last hour while it was only Matt and me in the VIP booth.

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  What was going on with me?

  Pushing Kash away? Because that’s what I wanted to do. That didn’t compute, not one bit.

  “This sucks.” Matt reached for his whiskey, downed it, and held up the glass. A server signaled from the bar, and yes, it’d come to this. We’d only been here fifteen minutes, but Matt had gone through two other drinks already. The servers weren’t even circulating up here. Matt began just raising his hand and the bartender noted it and sent a replacement. I watched as the bartender was already pouring Matt’s next one and then handing it off to a server. She brought it up, her eyes taking in Fitz and Scott, who Kash must’ve told to go with us for some reason, and she sidled past them. The glass was on a tray and she placed it down in front of Matt. Her eyes going to mine, a silent question if I was okay or not.

  I tapped my full drink. “I won’t need a refill for a while.”

  I’d shared with him what happened on the roof. Matt was taking it worse than me.

  Matt shook his head with a savage motion. “He has a brother.” He snatched his drink up, downing a good sip before swallowing, grimacing, and throwing back another drag. He put it back down. “What is he going to need me for? Nothing. I’m your brother, but I was his brother, too, and now I’m nothing. I’m going to be replaced. There won’t be any more…” He frowned. “There won’t be any more Mash.” A pause. “That doesn’t sound right. Katt?”

  Matt was in his own world.

  I was in mine.

  We were drinking together.

  He snorted, slumping back. “Our whole house is in chaos. Finding out that Hoda is still evil and in Quinn’s clutches. Kash has a brother now. Payton coming back.”

  “What?” My voice cracked.

  His eyebrows went up. “Cyclone and Ser’s aunt is coming back to the house.”

  Quinn’s sister.

  Payton looked like Quinn.

  Quinn.

  Who had been there, always there, always lurking.

  It was Payton, but not really.

  A sudden lance of panic pierced right down the middle of me.

  Kash was gone.

  Gone.

  As in “not there.”

  I couldn’t have that.

  What did I do?

  I shoved to my feet, knocking into the table.

  “Hey, hey.” Matt steadied the table, shooting me a glare. “Let’s not be hasty and knock stuff over that we’ll regret losing here.”

  I ignored him. “Matt! I have to fix this.”

  “I know.” He reached for his glass, lifting it and petting the sides of it. “There, there. She didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “He asked me if I wanted him to leave and he didn’t wait for my answer.”

  “Okay.” He moved farther over in our booth. He was cradling his drink. “Can we refrain from the sudden lurching? I’m on a mission to get drunk. Let me have this, please. Since you’re being nuts and irresponsible, means I can’t be, and I want one night before I have to take up the mantle. I have a right to a pity party here. Brother. He won’t need me anymore.”

  “Matt.” I glared at him.

  He glared back. “Mantle!”

  I raised my hands, making a wringing motion with them. “You’re exasperating.”

  “I’m aware.” He hiccupped. “I’ve not had to grow up, because when Kash stopped taking care of me, you came in, and you are way more mature than me. But when you lost your head on that roof, I know the time has come when I have to adult. I don’t like adulting. I try to do anything except adulting, but now I’ll actually have to step up.” He held a hand up. “I’m making my complaint official. I’m doing this under firm protest.”

  “Noted.”

  “Good.” Another glare before he took a swig from his drink. “Mantle.”

  I rolled my eyes and sat down.

  Matt slid my drink back over to where I was sitting.

  He raised his up, waiting for me. “I’m sorry, Bailey.”

  I sighed, picking up my glass.

  “You’re still grieving. He shouldn’t actually listen to you. What was he doing, listening to you?”

  I frowned because he was right.

  He grunted. “Kash is gorgeous. I may be a male, but I can tell when women flock to certain guys, and yeah, yeah, it could be about his money, but come on. Even I can tell he’s got the brooding dangerous smoldering look going for him. You bone him on the regular, so you know.”

  Pain sliced me. “Your point here?”

  “Oh yeah.” Matt swung his hand up in a wide arc before it came down and slammed on the table. “My point is that there’s no way in this world that Kash would actually leave you. It’s more like a Kashcation, because you’re going to be here with me, plotting to wreak mayhem on Quinn, and he’s off doing whatever murderous mission he wants to do.” He burped but didn’t miss a beat. “He’ll come back. He’ll walk into your bedroom, and he’ll say ‘Hey’ and you’ll say ‘Hey’ back. Then you’ll melt and he’ll sweep you off your feet, then fuck you hard. Voilà.”

  A second burp. His eyes were growing a little wild.

  “Trust me. You and Kash, this is just a small hiccup.” He picked up his empty glass and held it toward me. “The makeup sex will be off the charts, so can you please wallow with your brother, because I’m the one who should be wallowing here, not you.”

  Yes. Matt.

  He wanted to wallow, so we would wallow.

  But, holy crap.

  Kash had a brother.

  I picked up my drink. “You’re right. Here’s to wallowing.”

  “Drink up, Bailey.” He raised his arm for a fourth whiskey, which the bartender saw, and nodded. And the same server sashayed up moments later for Matt, and turned, swinging her hips slow and seductively on the way back down. Matt was watching, but I didn’t think he was really seeing her. He held his glass out for me, and knowing what he wanted, I clinked it with my own.

  He said, almost sullenly, “I figure you and me, we’re due a night. You’re going to pretend you’re upset about Kash, even though we both know he’ll be back and you’ll both be fine. And me…” He burped again. “I’m going to indulge and let my wild paranoia run free, because come dawn, I’ll rein it in. You and me. Team Batt needs to step up to home base. Kash has a lot on his plate. We’ll help out. It’s up to us to take Quinn down.”

  He looked up.

  So did I. And as if taunting us, the news was reporting on Quinn’s trial. Footage of her walking into the court was showing on a loop.

  Matt extended a fist to me. “Team Batt.”

  I met it with my own fist, and we pretended to blow it up.

  “Mantle.”

  “Mantle.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Bailey

  Six A.M. and Matt and I were struggling to even walk.

  There were shots, more drinking. Dancing. Yelling. Chanting. We might’ve coordinated a cheer even, complete with starting a flash mob with strangers. Matt has a favorite hot dog place he likes to stop at after drinking.

  All in all, the night was epic.

  Walking through the Chesapeake hallways as Matt veered off into the kitchen and I headed for my room with Kash, I already knew this was a hangover day. I wanted to collapse in bed and never move. There might be Disney movies to watch later on, but still from bed. Or in the house theater, but in my pajamas. I wanted to embrace the theme for the day.

  “Bailey.”

  Aw, crap.

  I faltered, first hearing Peter and then hearing what could only be described as … a father’s dismay? My heart soared for a split second because (a) Peter was acting like a dad to me and (b) I had forgotten how much I missed that “parenting” effect until Chrissy was gone. But that was quickly pushed out to make room for embarrassment, a good amount of shame, and nausea.

  The nausea was winning out.

  He was coming down a hallway, fully dressed to start his day. A newspaper in one hand, a steaming mug in his other. And he was looking me up and down. There was no real expression on his face, but his eyes and mouth were both flat.

  He stopped in front of me and wrinkled his nose before raising his mug and taking a sip. “You reek of Matt.”

  I paused. “That’s an odd cologne.”

  “And you speak Matt, too. What an unpleasant surprise.”

  I felt that one like a punch to my sternum.

  “You’re fluent in parental disappointment. Why am I missing Chrissy so much? I’ve got you as a replacement.”

  I winced even before I had two words out of my mouth.

  Who was this person in my body? I didn’t like her.

  Peter looked like he agreed with me, and his mouth pinched in at the corners.

  He looked me up and down before shifting his newspaper under his arm and raising his hand to pinch at the top of his nose. “I think it’s time we had a talk.” He nodded in the direction I was going. “Go. Shower. Change. Come back to my office in an hour.”

  My tongue weighed down on the bottom of my mouth. My throat swelled and I couldn’t speak for a moment.

  A flare of regret pierced me, jarring me, but he moved on.

  Climbing the stairs, I pushed open our bedroom door and stopped just inside.

  The encounter with Peter hadn’t been good, but this, coming into this room, this was worse. So much worse.