chapter 9

I tilt my head, popping my neck, but it doesn't bring the same sweet relief it normally does.

"You know what would ease some of that tension?" I don't even look at Brooks. I know exactly where his head is—in the gutter like usual. But nothing will ever happen between Anni and me. Like ever. We can hardly stand to be in the same room with each other.

I release a long sigh and turn away from them.

"Exactly," Brooks says as I head to my office.

They couldn't possibly be further off the mark right now. The only reason Anni is here is because her friend is in trouble. Probably more trouble than she even realizes after the information I just got from Wren.

They're only looking at skin-deep shit though, and when a woman walks in here crying and asking for help, looking like a four-course meal, they're bound to read things wrong.

The woman in the parking garage eight years ago has nothing on the Anni Grimaldi that showed up here tonight. Even then, she'd changed from the day of our wedding, but now she's somehow managed to get thicker, sexier with her long brown, almost black hair. Her eyes are brighter, more honey-like, even red-rimmed with tears and fear muting them.

"Jesus," I hiss, rubbing my hands over my face before opening my office door.

I need to figure all of this shit out with Dona so I can send her angry little friend on her way.

"Like fast," I whisper when I walk in and find her asleep on the sofa in the corner.

No longer resembling a snarling bear, Anni is curled up in a protective ball, her small hands under her chin. I'd say she looks like a child, but the woman is way too stacked for anyone with working eyes to make that mistake. Bandages from Jude's care are the only things tainting her perfect skin, and somehow even those don't detract from her appeal. They make her real, less perfect, more approachable which is something I never pictured her as before.

I shake my head, forcing any thoughts of how she looks from it. I'm just tired, and maybe my dry spell has been a little too long. That's the only reason for letting her somehow invade my thoughts in any form other than working toward getting her the hell out of my life, again.

I clear my throat, but she doesn't even stir, so I find another gentle way to wake her. I slam my office door, and she jerks like she's been shot.

"You're such an asshole," she hisses as she lifts the top half of her body off the sofa and stretches.

Fuck my life. Has her belly button always been pierced?

I sneer in her direction. What self-respecting woman in her thirties has body jewelry?

My throat suddenly dry, I try to convince myself as I walk across the room, leaning on the front of my desk with my arms crossed over my chest that asking her for a better look at the glinting stone would be a mistake.

"What?" she snaps when she looks in my direction to find me watching her.

I want to ask how her makeup is still perfect. She's been sleeping. She came into the BBS offices with tears running down her cheeks. Yet, here she is, lipstick still in place and not even the hint of a smear under her eyes.

"Did you reapply your makeup?" Damn it. I'm a fucking idiot.

"Huh?" She touches her face with soft hands still throwing daggers my way. "I left my apartment with nothing but my phone. I don't even have my keys to get back inside. Why in the ever-loving hell would you think I reapplied makeup?"

Because you're gorgeous.

Like a smart man, I keep my mouth clamped closed. She's managed to tilt everything upside down, and I know if I open my lips to speak, something crazy may have the chance to slip out.

"What?" She's glaring at me, eyes narrow and ready to cut me with her scathing words. "Don't look at me like that."

I drop my eyes to the table in front of the sofa, unsure of what my face is actually doing.

"You came to me for help," I tell her evenly.

"You're not concerned about Dona?"

"Of course I am. That's why I'm helping."

"Do you still love her?"

Unable to decipher her tone, I raise my eyes back to hers. She stares back at me with a blank expression, like the question she asked means more to her than she's wanting to let on.

"This isn't about love," I assure her. "It's an obligation."

"What kind of man—" She snaps her mouth closed before looking down at her hands and taking a deep breath.

I will her with my eyes to finish that sentence, but she doesn't.

"You know what, none of that even matters."

"What's going on in her life?"

She bristles with my question, but she doesn't taunt me with the same bullshit she did earlier.

"We haven't talked much lately." I see a flash of pain fill her eyes, and it's easy to see that there's some regret there.

Those two were thick as damn thieves, and although I shouldn't be because that chapter in my life has been closed for a while now, I'm curious about what could've happened to cause distance between them. Did Dona go after Anni's boyfriend? Did my ex hurt her friend the same way she hurt me?

"How long?" I ask instead of opening gates that I may never be able to close again. I wouldn't be surprised if Dona did something unforgiveable. She's always been an expert manipulator and unrepentantly selfish.

"What?"

"When was the last time you spoke with her?"

"We haven't really hung out in months, but I spoke with her a couple of weeks ago."

"Did she talk to you about her money problems?"

Anni laughs like what I just disclosed is absurd. "She doesn't have money problems."

"Her credit cards are maxed." Her shock-filled eyes snap up from her hands. "Her rent is late, and she's on the verge of eviction. She has nothing left. No money in the bank, nothing."

It's apparent by the look on her face that she had no idea about any of this. Just how much distance is there between them?