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“This is what you were hiding?” I’m compelled to reach out a hand to him, to touch him, to comfort him, but I hold myself back. “If you were in trouble, you could’ve told me. I’d—”
“What?” he swings around to look at me, voice harsh again. Defensive. “There’s nothing you can do. Nero is not your problem, and as long as I play by his rules, he won’t be.”
“You could go to the police,” I suggest. “This can’t be legal. It’s blackmail, or coercion, or—”
“That’s not an option.” Caleb cuts me off. “Do you realize what kind of scandal it would be, if the press get wind of it? Mobsters, embezzlement, the most famous luxury brand in the world built out of crime and lies… My family’s reputation would be destroyed. Everything they built. I won’t see it brought down, not by Nero, or anyone,” he vows. “
I’ve been paying, just enough so that I thought Olivia wouldn’t be suspicious. But now she’s gotten wind of it, she’s not quitting until she finds the truth. and once she does… She’ll use it to destroy me—and everything around me.” He shakes his head, like he can’t even consider it.
Because of me. Stiffening with guilt, I pull my hand back and hug myself. “And Nero won’t listen to reason? Or take a one-time payoff?”
Caleb shakes his head.
“I’ve tried, I offered him every cent in my personal fortune, but he’s insisting on the old arrangement—a cut of profits, every fucking year. It’s not just about the money to him, it’s about power. Showing he’s just as tough as his father. That every debt continues to be paid. Honestly, Juliet… I don’t know what to do.”
I don’t know what to do.
I never thought I’d hear Caleb Sterling admit to that. It makes my heart flutter again with this overwhelming need to hold him, to feel him close to me. But
the car pulls up at the front of the Sterling Cross offices, and whatever moment was between us is cut short.
“Are you satisfied now?” Caleb asks me, the shutters coming down again. I can see him turn cold and remote. “Will you please stop digging and let me handle it?”
I get the feeling he’s regretting showing even a bit of vulnerability to me, so I just nod. “Thank you for telling me,” I say, but I don’t make any promises.
As we ascend in the elevator, I stare at the numbers climbing over the door and wrack my brain, trying to think of a solution. Can he reason with Nero? No, probably not, the mafia can’t be reasoned with. And someone like Nero is above the law; once you mess with them, it’s nearly impossible to find your way out.
At least, that’s the way it is in all the movies.
I fully admit, when it comes to mafia, I am in way over my head.
We reach our floor, and Caleb strides to his office. Vicki’s not there, and I know Caleb has a packed schedule of meetings this afternoon, so this might be my only chance to get him alone. Before he closes the door, I say, a little desperately, “Caleb?”
He turns.
“I’m really sorry you’re going through this.” I step closer and reach out my hand.
He looks down at it, and then locks eyes with me, and for a moment, I think I’ve broken through the ice fortress he’s put around himself since the gala. I think that maybe, things might be different between us.
“Excuse me?”
A voice interrupts us. Tearing my eyes from him, I spin around to see a delivery man holding the biggest bouquet of flowers I’ve ever laid eyes upon. “Delivery for Juliet Nichols?”
I blink as I take them. “For me?”
He sets them down, and checks the note. “Yup, Juliet.” The bouquet dwarves my tiny desk, turning it into a tropical jungle. I glance at Caleb as I set them on the corner.
He leans against the door frame, eyes narrowing. “Who’s it from?”
I pull the card from the tiny envelope and read:
Juliet, Thanks for last night—David.
“So the big date must’ve been a rousing success.”
I whirl. I hadn’t heard Caleb coming close enough to read over my shoulder. I crumple the card in my sweaty palm, but too late. The damage is done.
His eyes are cold, expressionless.
“Caleb,” I start, cursing the awful timing. “Nothing happened. He and I just went out together, and—”
“You think I care?” His eyes are narrow, regarding me like some silly child. Like some plaything. “You’re welcome to him. And stay out of my problems. They’ve got nothing to do with you anymore.”
He stalks to his office, slamming the door, leaving me feeling worse than ever.
