The Trouble With Us: A Second Chance Love Triangle (The Forbidden Love 2)

“It’s Austin.”

He cocks his head with a hard smile. “Austin, right. The love of your life. The high school sweetheart, correct?”

“So much for being amicable,” I mutter beneath my breath, crossing my arms in defiance. “None of it matters, Will. It’s been four years. Everyone has moved on, and your mom was right. We are family, so there’s no point dwelling on the past. All is forgotten.”

The doors open, and without a goodbye, I walk out wishing this night never happened.

What Mom said is right—the hardest part about seeing an ex is when you’re unprepared. Emotions are out of control, it’s hard to even swallow because you’re caught in this vicious cycle of past and present.

My steps are quick, desperate to escape him.

“Amelia,” he calls.

I stop mid-step, paralyzed on the spot. My hands clench into fists, anticipating his words designed to crush me. I wait for him to tell me he is seeing someone else, or better yet, about how he’s fallen into old habits and is screwing his assistant.

My chest rises and falls, the beat of my heart irregular and distressed while waiting in anticipation. I close my eyes, building a wall to protect me from his words. Nothing he says should hurt me. After all—I’ve moved on.

“I never forgot about us…” he tells me, lowering his tone. “So no, all is not forgotten.”

And the wall I had built begins to crack.

Straight down the middle.

On the verge of falling apart, just like we had all those years ago.

6

WILL

The plane hits the tarmac with a loud roar as the brakes kick into gear.

I stare out the window, looking at the familiar surroundings. I’d been back in the States for close to two months now, barely stepping foot inside my home state. The majority of the time had been spent in Seattle, with a brief stint in Chicago. Things refused to slow down, and my presence elsewhere was needed more than I would have liked.

The only saving grace is my mind being occupied with business. We were merging two well-known companies and expected the announcement to shake many investors. It is the perfect time for growth. However, it is imperative to move quickly. Dominating the tech industry is still my number one goal. No one is going to stop me, not now, or ever.

If I want something, I will make sure it damn well happens.

The pilot announces our landing and thank god for this private jet. I sold the one in London, used the funds to purchase this one, never ever wanting to fly commercial again. I didn’t bode well around people, especially screaming kids.

The SUV is parked on the tarmac with the driver waiting. I exit the plane and hop into the car, using the time to respond to emails. There’s a text message from my mom, asking me to drop by whenever I have a chance over the next few days to discuss Dad’s upcoming birthday.

Spending time with my mother is draining. The woman is a ballbreaker, but since it is for Dad, I decide to make an effort.

“Jeffrey, I would like to take a detour to my mother’s office, please.”

“Certainly, sir.”

I sit back in the leather seat, resting my head in an effort to de-stress and relieve my worries. It’s Friday night, what many people considered the perfect time to unwind after a long week. I don’t remember the last time I did anything social—everything revolves around work. If I was at an event, it was to network or to make an appearance for business associates and clients.

And since I’d been back in the city, I’ve been staying at the Four Seasons. My apartment is being leased to a college friend of mine, and even if I ended the lease, a part of me doesn’t want to go back to where it all began. The memories are still raw, a hard lesson I learned when I drove past Times Square not long ago.

It is on my agenda to find a permanent place to live in, which prompts me to text my realtor to schedule some showings next week. As for tonight, with nothing else holding my attention, meeting my mother for a quick discussion will be like ripping a Band-Aid off—I need to get it over a

nd done with.

We pull up at the familiar office. I ask Jeffrey to wait around, then exit the car and head straight into the building. It’s been a long while since I visited her at the office, yet nothing at all has changed. The building is still exactly the same, and no doubt she will be pleased with my impromptu visit.

The receptionist is a cute blonde, introducing herself as Natacha, with a C as she so keenly put it. Between batting her eyelashes while dipping her chest so I was privy to her tits—the flirtatious introduction does nothing to stir any sexual desire within me.