Hooking Up (Shacking Up 2)

“Answer the question, Lexington. Did you fuck her?” He clenches his fists, as if he’s considering punching me.

“Did you know that she packed an entire suitcase of sex toys? It’s quite an extensive collection. Looks like maybe you didn’t tame her nearly as well as you think you did.” I need to shut up. I don’t know enough about the prenup Amie signed to be certain I won’t make a mess of things if I imply anything else—well, more of a mess than I may have already with the Bane conversation earlier—but my mouth is working faster than my brain and Armstrong brings out the very worst side of me. “It’s unfortunate you’re too insecure to enjoy her the way you could’ve.”

His jaw ticks, eyes narrowed. “But you did? Is that what you’re saying?”

“You have no idea what you gave up. You might’ve had her, but you’re not getting her back. Not ever.” I need to stop talking. I know better than anyone the results of provoking Armstrong.

A malignant sneer distorts his face. “And you think she won’t be done with you when she finds out you’re only fucking her to even the score?”

That he still thinks this is about some kind of long-sought-after vengeance is mind-boggling. “You don’t even know the half of it. I did a hell of a lot more than even the score. You’re not even in the race anymore.”

His smile is triumphantly vicious as his gaze moves over my shoulder. “Is that right? I’d love to hear more about that.”

“So would I.” I find Amie standing behind us with her arms crossed over her chest. I have to wonder how long she’s been there and how much she heard.

I take a step toward her. “You should come with me, Amie.”

She takes several steps back, putting distance between us. I’m familiar with her expression, and it’s not one I’m happy to be involved in causing. “Don’t.”

It’s not the response I want, particularly because it tells me what kind of damage Armstrong has done with one conversation. I move in closer, lowering my voice. “I don’t know what he said to you, but whatever it is, it’s not true, Amie. He said it just to hurt you and get back at me.”

Her anger is etched through with sadness. She’s on the verge of tears. “Which part isn’t true? The part about evening the score, or maybe it was about how he failed to tame me. Or is it the insinuation that somehow you did?”

“Someone wanna tell me what the fuck is going on here?” Bancroft’s deep, loud voice drowns out the rest of my plea.

Amie’s relief is a slap in the face.

“What’re you doing here?” Bane directs the question at Armstrong.

His annoyed sneer is replaced by a fake, friendly smile as he turns to Bancroft. “I came to congratulate you on your engagement.”

Bane looks at him as if he’s lost his mind. “You weren’t invited, Armstrong, and the reason for that is standing right there.”

Armstrong glances at Amie, as if he’s just noticing her presence. “Amalie and I are working things out.”

Amie snorts derisively. “On a cold day in hell.”

“I seriously doubt that, unless you’re blackmailing her somehow, which really wouldn’t surprise me.” Bane glances at Amie. “You okay?”

She gives him a curt nod and a tight smile. “Fine.”

I’ve never hated that word more than I do right now.

“Why don’t you go back into the ballroom? Ruby’s been forced onto the dance floor with my grandfather and she might need some saving, or he might. It’s hard to tell.”

“Of course.” She squares her shoulders and gives both Armstrong and me a wide berth as she skirts us. “Thank you,” she murmurs, squeezing Bancroft’s arm as she passes.

When I try to follow her, he puts out a hand to stop me. “I don’t think so.”

Bane might be younger than me, but he’s still bigger, stronger, and faster. And in this case, he might have a right to keep me away from her.

“Someone want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Your brother is fucking my wife,” Armstrong says, rather loudly.

Thankfully there aren’t very many people out here, and the chatter and music from the ballroom filters into the foyer with the opening of the door.

Bane’s lip curls and he claps a palm on the back of Armstrong’s neck, holding tight and getting in close. “You might want to keep your voice down, unless you’d like your nose broken again. I promise, cousin, no amount of surgery will make your face pretty again when I’m done with you.”

Bane keeps the pressure on as he moves Armstrong around the corner. I follow, partly because I don’t want to miss it should Bane lay out Armstrong, and partly because, now that I have reinforcements and some privacy, I can say a few of the things I want to.

“Listen to me.” Bane drops his hand but gets right up in Armstrong’s face. “You’re ruining my engagement party because you can’t let shit go. I get that it’s hard for you to grasp that the world doesn’t revolve around you, but this isn’t the time or the place to air your grievances, or plead your case with Amie.”

“I can’t get to her any other way. Everyone has made it impossible otherwise.”

“And why do you think that is, Armstrong?”

He peeks out from behind Bane. “Fuck you, Lexington. You can’t have what’s mine.”

“Can I just punch him?” I look to my brother who’s wearing an incredulous expression, before I turn my attention back to Armstrong. “Amie is not a possession. I don’t understand how you don’t get that. You destroyed what you had. No one is responsible for that but you. You ruined her and I put her back together.”

“Isn’t that convenient for you, always playing the hero like you do. Not anymore, though, not now that she knows you were just after her because of me.” He’s back to looking smug.

Bancroft shakes his head and rolls his shoulders. He’s been pushed to his limits. Frankly so have I. “I’m very close to knocking you out if you don’t shut up. Your history with Lex is not a reason to torture Amie. She’s been through enough. You humiliated her and you continue to torment her by refusing to sign the annulment papers. You’re dragging your family’s name through the dirt by acting like this. As much as you’d like to think your family controls the media, people talk. Your competition hired her for Christ’s sake. Now I’m going to escort you to the elevators and one of the security guards is going to make sure you get in a car. If you come back, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

When I make a move to go with them, Bane points a finger at me. “You stay here and don’t move.”

Normally I wouldn’t be inclined to take orders from my little brother, but in this case I think it’s imperative that I do.

He’s back less than a minute later. “How long?”

I don’t need to ask him what he’s referring to. “A while.”

“Be more specific. What’s a while? A week? A month? Longer?”

Shit. I don’t want to come clean about this right now, not before I can talk to Amie. “It’s been months.”

Bane’s eyes go wide and his hands curl into fists. “What?”

“It’s not what you think.” I should expect the punch, but I’m not prepared for it. I double over, clutching my gut. I cough a few times and try not to throw up the scotch or my dinner. It hurts a lot more than it did when we were kids.