A Deal With the Devil (33 page)

Like that was going to solve anything.

Amanda checked her watch for the tenth time in the last five minutes. Then she rolled down a window and poked her head out, looking for a street sign or a familiar landmark, but she couldn’t see anything she recognized. She leaned forward and asked, “Where are we?”

The driver pointed. “Ten blocks ahead and two to the right.”

They inched forward. At this rate, she’d be there in a week. She checked her watch again. Five after eleven. She was running out of time.

“I’m going to walk. How much?” She shoved some bills at the driver and scurried out of the backseat. She adjusted the laptop and purse and then took off, racing down the sidewalk as fast as her impractical stilettos would allow.

She hit every red light. At one of them, she caught her reflection in a glass building and groaned. Her hair looked wild and frizzy and—between the crying jag and the multi-block sprint—she could only imagine the state of her makeup. And her skinned knee was killing her. It felt like she’d gotten some dirt or sawdust in it.

She turned away from her reflection. Nothing she could do about it now.

The light turned green and she raced off, her laptop bouncing so hard against her leg, she was sure it would leave a bruise. Eight blocks later, winded, sweaty and exhausted, she glimpsed the building. Her footsteps slowed. And her thoughts shifted to potential excuses for her tardiness. She was so intent on the task, she failed to notice the steel grate beneath her feet and she stepped right into it. The heel on her three hundred seventy five dollar shoe sank all the way in and got wedged between the steel bars. She walked right out of it. When her bare foot hit the sidewalk she looked down, confused. Then she looked behind her and down.

She groaned. She was definitely cursed. No doubt about it.

Amanda bent over and pulled, expecting it to come right out. The shoe didn’t budge. She dropped her briefcase and purse on the sidewalk, bent further down and pulled harder. It still didn’t dislodge. So she hiked her skirt up and squatted, assuming an extremely unladylike pose for someone dressed in a black pencil skirt and—ignoring the amused glances of passersby—she grasped the shoe with both hands, grunted and pulled with all her might. The heel cracked off and fell into the sewer. The velocity sent her sprawling backwards and she landed on her bottom with a thud, holding the heelless shoe up in one hand like a trophy.

She blinked and stared at the disfigured stiletto for a long moment. Then she shook her head and sighed as she slipped it on.
It just keeps getting better
.

Gathering what dignity she could muster, she picked up her purse and briefcase and hobbled across the street, her uneven gait making it look like one of her legs was four inches shorter than the other.

She glanced at the clock above the security desk. She had ten more minutes. She scrawled her name on the register and flashed her driver’s license, grateful the security guard hadn’t bothered to look up as she approached because—between the state of her shoes, hair and makeup—she was sure she would’ve scared the crap out of him.

The man barely glanced at Amanda as he barked out the floor number and jabbed a thumb toward the bank of elevators behind the security desk.

Amanda thanked him and limped into the elevator, where she punched in the floor number and then slumped against the wall. She looked and felt like absolute hell, but she wasn’t about to let Jake down.

She still had no idea what she’d say when she got there. She knew she couldn’t just burst into the meeting mid-stream. But she wasn’t about to miss it, especially after the planes, trains and automobiles efforts she had undergone to get there.

The bell sounded, the doors opened and she gathered every scrap of pride as she tottered to the reception desk. She smoothed a hand over her hair and tried to tamp down her frizzy curls as she smiled nervously at the receptionist.

The mixture of horror and amusement on the perfectly-groomed woman’s face gave Amanda a sense of just how frightening she looked. She drew in a long breath and feigned as dignified an air as she could manage. “Rand Connelly, please. I’m here for the ten thirty meeting.”

“Would you like to use a restroom first?” The woman’s lips twitched, but Amanda detected a hint of sympathy in her eyes.

She lifted her chin. “No thank you,” she sniffed.

The receptionist scanned her log and then looked up at Amanda. “I’m sorry,” she said. “The meeting ended five minutes ago.”

It was all Amanda could do not to just fling herself on the floor. Her thin veneer of confidence cracked and she collapsed against the desk, prepared to plead her case. “But they’re still back there, right?”

The receptionist shook her head. “According to this, they signed out five minutes ago, which means they just left. I’m sorry.”

Amanda nodded slowly and turned away. Perfect.

She hobbled back to the elevator; her shoulders slumped in defeat as she made her way out of the building and hailed a cab. She gave the cabbie the address and then closed her eyes, replaying her disaster of a morning over and over in her head until the cab pulled up to the curb.

Amanda paid the driver and opened the door, gazing about in confusion. Crap. She’d given the driver the address to her condo instead of Jake’s townhouse. She briefly considered giving the driver Jake’s address and then thought better of it. After the morning she’d had, she could use a little alone time to regroup.

She limped into her building. In the elevator, she pulled off her damaged pumps and then trod barefoot down the hall toward her condo. She let herself in and pulled off her coat.

Glancing around, she felt an odd sense of comfort to be home. Still, the place seemed dismally empty and it reminded her of how she’d felt in the days after the break-up with Jake. They hadn’t lived together, but had spent most of their time together. And, after Jake had ended things, it took her a very long time to get used to the silence; to be alone without feeling lonely.

She strolled over to the windows and gazed down at the noonday traffic. She couldn’t believe she’d actually missed his meeting. Especially after finding out that everything Jake and Kate had shared about her brother was true. He’d lied to her.

She needed to call Jake.

Without taking the time to plan what she’d say, she picked up her phone and punched in Jake’s number. After five rings, the phone rolled to voicemail. Not a good sign.

Amanda briefly considered leaving a generic message just asking him to call her, but once she heard the beep, the words poured out of her—straight from the heart. She apologized effusively for missing his pitch, explaining about what had happened with Rob and prattling on about the pitfalls she’d encountered en route to the meeting.

Then she mustered her courage and—just before the voicemail cut off—she uttered the four hardest words she’d ever said in her life. “I need your help.”

* * *

Amanda gazed at the laptop, trying to figure out if she should do it. Kate had text messaged Rand’s email address an hour ago and she had written and rewritten the note a dozen times since then. She read it again.

Should she do it? Honestly, she had nothing to lose. She’d already missed the meeting and Jake must be livid, which is why he hadn’t returned her call. So it really couldn’t get any worse.

She positioned the email like a planned follow-up to the meeting. It was her last ditch attempt to help Jake secure the money for his business. The blinking cursor issued a dare. With every blink it seemed to say send it, send it.

Before she could second guess herself, she attached the video file, reviewed the note one last time and pressed Send.

* * *

The doorbell rang shortly after two o’clock.

Her stomach flip flopped. It had been more than two hours since she’d left the groveling, pleading, rambling voicemail for Jake and an hour since she’d sent the email. She had checked her watch every five minutes since.

It took every iota of self-control she possessed not to call him or send a text. But electronic stalking wouldn’t solve anything. By this point, he must have gotten her voicemail, so he knew what had happened and knew she was at her condo. When and if he wanted to talk, she knew he’d reach out. And now he had. He was here.

The doorbell rang again. Her pulse raced as she hurried to the door. She paused to glance in the mirror. She’d long since made herself presentable. But still, she tugged her sweater down and licked her lips as she tried to figure out what to say.

‘Sorry to have ditched you on the single most important day of your professional life’
probably wouldn’t cut it. Maybe just ‘
I’m sorry’
would be enough.

Amanda opened the door without looking through the peephole and her tentative smile faded instantly. Rob.

She glared at him. “I don’t want to talk to you. I’m not even ready to see you, right now.” She went to close the door, but he held it open and stepped inside.

“I know you don’t, but you’re going to.”

She frowned. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” Rob’s voice sounded determined and he took her arm and steered her purposefully to the sofa. “I listened to you this morning and now you’re going to listen to me.”

She plopped onto the sofa and regarded him warily as he settled next to her. Still livid, she studied Rob. His whole demeanor seemed different. His bearing and posture exuded strength, a confidence she’d never seen before and it reminded her of their father. Rob had never reminded her of their father before now.

Still, she expected him to let loose an endless string of excuses; to try to explain away the events of the morning with a pack of lies. She folded her arms and waited for him to start. Given this, his approach caught her completely off guard.

“You were right about everything,” Rob said. “And I deserved every word you said.” She gaped at him as he continued. “I also came to give you this.” He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to her.

She hesitated briefly before reaching for it, noting the pride evident in every aspect of his being.

“Open it.”

She ran a fingertip under the flap and pulled out a check for a hundred thousand dollars. Her eyes grew wide. “Rob, where did you get this money?” She shook her head. “These people you’re dealing with are—”

“Jake.” Rob sat back and stretched his arm out along the top of the sofa cushions, looking extremely pleased. “I got the money from Jake.”

“Jake,” she repeated, staring at him blankly.

Why would Jake give Rob money? Especially given how irresponsible and clueless he thought Rob to be. And why did Rob possess the self-satisfied look of someone who knew something the other one didn’t?

A huge grin spread across his features. “Jake and I are business partners.”

Her brows knit together. “What are you talking about?”

“Jake got me out of the deal; he got the partners to return the money I invested, which is where that money came from.” Rob pointed to the check and then leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees as he gazed at the floor for a long moment and then turned to her. “And he’s bringing in a friend of Rand Connelly’s—you know, Sam’s investment banking brother—from California, who owns a national restaurant group. The group owns several high end chains and they’re going to fund a place using my concept. They’ll put in a management team to operate it initially and I’ll start out with a ten percent stake. Over five years, I’ll learn from the team and gradually gain sweat equity. I’ll end up with a sixty percent stake, the restaurant group will keep twenty percent and Jake wants to keep twenty percent.” Rob grinned and sat up straight, looking proud. “He believes in me.”

Despite her lingering anger, Amanda smiled.

“You were right about everything,” he said, glancing back at her, a look of contrition in his eyes. “Some pretty questionable people did get involved. It happened as time went on; everything just got so out of control and I didn’t know how to stop it.”

“You should have told me. I could’ve helped you.”

He clasped his hands and tapped his index fingers together. “I wanted to—especially when you came by on Saturday. But I didn’t want to be any more of a burden than I’d already been. He glanced at her sideways. “But Jake came by on Saturday—.”

“Jake came by to see you?”

Rob nodded. “Right after you left.”

She flopped back in the sofa cushions.

“I told him the truth,” he glanced at her apologetically. “I’m sorry, sis. When you came by on Saturday, I couldn’t tell you what was really going on. I didn’t want you to worry.” He turned to face her. “But when Jake stopped by, we sorted it all through. Then we went by the restaurant and Jake convinced them to let me out of the deal.”

She stared at him, dumbstruck. “Why would he do that?”

Rob grabbed her ring finger and shot her a pointed look. “Because he loves you, dummy. It certainly wasn’t because of me. He knows what a screw up
I
am.”

“You’re not a screw-up,” she automatically leapt to her brother’s defense. He shot her a
get real
look and despite her foul mood, Amanda giggled.