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With a sigh, Alden touches me under my chin and forces me to look at him.

“I’ll let you know the funeral arrangements once they’re made,” he says, his voice cool and in control.

“I’d appreciate that.”

He glances at my lips.

There is so much I want to say and explain, but what good will it do? None of it is relevant or helpful.

“You’re a wonderful man, Alden. Thank you for the drive home.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, and walks out.

Closing the door, I lean my head against the wood. Alden speaks suddenly, and I nearly jump a foot.

“Lock the door, Emily.”

Heart bouncing around in my chest. I flip the deadbolt and slide the chain into place.

“Thank you,” he says before he walks away.

Turning, I sink to the floor and sit with my head between my bent knees.

Holy shit.

Holy-fucking-shit.

It’s finally happening. A smile slowly spreads across my face as I stand and head to the shower.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ALDEN

Leaning back in my leather chair, I toss the baseball into the air and catch it again as I stare out the office window. My mind isn’t on work. I have three cases on my desk that need my attention, not to mention arranging my brother’s funeral, but all I can think about is Emily.

My hands tingle with the memory of holding her. My mouth waters for the taste of her on my tongue. My body heats, recalling her moan in my ears. The only thing missing is her saying my name. No…I want her to scream it.

She kicked me out. Never in all my years has a woman turned me down. This is a whole new experience, and…

The corner of my mouth turns up.

I kind of like it.

She’s a challenge. It’s exhilarating and totally wrong. What is the statute of limitations on sleeping with your brother’s ex when he’s dead? This is all new territory for me. Is it still considered cheating?

Rob treated Emily like shit, and they’d only been together like three months. Now he’s gone. Am I simply justifying the situation to move my own moral lines?

I should be more upset that Rob’s dead, but I’m not. I’m pissed that someone is fucking with me. That emotional landmine is a whole other issue that I’ll analyze another time.

“You cannot go in there,” Rochelle says loudly.

I already know who it is, and I’ve been expecting this tantrum.

“Get out of my way,” Malcolm’s angry voice booms through my closed door.

“Let him in, Rochelle,” I call out, and slowly turn around in my chair to watch my annoying cousin storm into the room as if he owns it.

His arrogance knows no bounds, and one day it’ll get him killed. Perhaps by me.