Listed: Volume VI (10 page)

“Yeah.
You gave me the idea. I threatened the board with going to the press, and they
caved and gave me a position.”

“Really?”
She tried to be happy for him. Even felt a few flickers of interest. “What’s
the position?”

“Assistant
Vice President of Management.”

“What
does the Assistant Vice President of Management do?”

“From
the first week of work, he evidently is the dumping ground for all tedious or
impossible projects that anyone wants to get rid of.”

She
gave a huff of something close to amusement. “Oh. Well, at least it’s
something.”

“Yeah.
It’s better than nothing.”

There
was silence for a moment until Paul changed the subject, asking carefully,
“Have you thought about what you want to do now?”

“I
want to go home and sleep for days.”

 “I
meant long term,” Paul explained. “Where do you want to live? What do you want
to do? I know you’re emancipated and working at the coffee shop, but you’ll
need to figure out a long-term plan.”

“I
know that.” She frowned, annoyed he was bringing up things she didn’t want to
think about. “I can’t sort all that out today.”

“You
don’t have to figure it all out right now, but you must have some idea. Isn’t
there anyone you want to live with?”

She
shrugged and looked out the window, trying not to snap at him the way she
wanted.

“What
about your former stepmother? Weren’t you close to your stepsister? What was
her name?”

“Stacie.
We’re not close anymore. We haven’t talked since her mom walked out on my dad.”

“But
you liked them, didn’t you? If they’re as close to family as you have, maybe—”

“No,”
she bit out, jerking her head back to glare at him. “They aren’t family. I have
no family.”

He
appeared briefly annoyed at her tone but quickly masked it. Evidently, he
wasn’t going to argue with the pitiful girl whose father just died. “You need
to live somewhere. You’ll start college in the fall, so maybe—”

“I’m
not sure I’m going to college.”

“What?”
His gray eyes had widened, and his abrupt tone and intensity were really
getting on her nerves. “That’s crazy. I thought you were planning—”

“I
might go sometime. I just can’t stand the thought of it right now. I can’t go
about life like nothing happened.”

Paul’s
expression softened slightly. “I guess I can understand that.”

“How
nice for you—to be so understanding.”  She’d intended to sound sarcastic but
not quite so bitter. She rubbed her face and wished it wasn’t so stuffy in this
car, wished Paul’s body wasn’t emanating so much heat. “Sorry. I just want to
get the trial over with. I can’t worry about anything else until that’s done.
After it’s done, then…” She sighed thickly. “Then I’ll try to start my life
again.”

He
was silent for a really long time.

Finally,
she turned to study him through narrowed eyes. “What?” she demanded, when she
saw what looked like reluctance on his face.

“I
don’t know. It just doesn’t sound very…healthy. To isolate yourself from your
friends, to put your whole life on hold for so long, after going through—”

“Oh,
just shut up.” She hated how young she sounded even as she said the words. She
straightened up and managed to say a bit more lucidly, “You’ve put your life on
hold for this vendetta against your dad, so I’m not sure you can lecture me
about emotional health.”

“It’s
not a vendetta.”

“Isn’t
it? Aren’t you doing everything you can to get him sent away to prison for
life?”

“But
not for retribution.”

She
raised her eyebrows. “For justice?”

“Why
do you sound so dubious?” He looked almost offended, as if he’d forgotten he
was supposed to treat her with kid gloves.

“You’ve
never struck me as someone who would move heaven and earth for some sort of
high-blown ideal.”

“Thanks
a lot.”

He
wasn’t meeting her eyes. He was looking out the car widow past her head, but
she suddenly wondered if she’d offended him.

“I
didn’t mean it as an insult,” she explained. “But he’s your dad, and a belief
in justice isn’t really enough to…to do what you’re doing.”

“Betray
him, you mean?”

She
swallowed and felt her whole body flush at his frigid tone. “I didn’t mean
that. I think you’re doing the right thing. But it’s got to be hard—since he’s
your dad.”

“Our
relationship was never anything like yours with your father.”

“I
know.”

“He
was never really a father to me.”

“I
know.”

Neither
said anything for a full minute.

Then
Paul added, as if as an afterthought, “I owe it to my mother.”

“Owe
what?” Even two months ago, she never would have had the boldness to question
Paul Marino so directly. He’d always been a prince—too distant to really touch.

But
nothing felt the same now. Not even Paul.

“I
owe it to her to make something of my life. To do something…something
worthwhile.”

Emily
suddenly understood Paul in a way she hadn’t before.

His
mother’s death had been a kind of turning point for him. He was trying to
buckle down and work a real job. He wasn’t in the gossip columns for partying,
drugs, or wild stunts nearly as much as he used to be. She hadn’t really
thought about it much, since so much had happened to her in the meantime, but
he must be trying to turn over a new leaf.

“Oh.”
She was so hot she was sweating, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I
thought it was about winning. Beating him.”

“That
too.”

His
tone was dry, but she was sure he was speaking the truth.

Everyone
had something that was most important to them. Getting justice for his
father—for his mother’s sake—was the most important thing to Paul.

Emily
wasn’t sure what was most important to her anymore, and the idea of figuring it
out nauseated her.

“Are
you sure you don’t want to call up your former stepmother and stepsister?
Surely you want to be around people you know and trust at a time like this.
You’re just seventeen, and I’m not sure it’s a good idea—”

“Who
the hell asked you whether it’s a good idea?” Her voice was more bad-tempered
than she’d expected.  “I’m the one who gets to make decisions for me. I’m
letting you protect me. I’m not letting you boss me around.”

She
sucked in a ragged breath, suddenly so hot she could barely breathe. She
fumbled at the door, trying to find the control for the window.

“I
wasn’t trying to—”

“Can
we please open a window?” she interrupted, suddenly panicking as the air blurred
and thickened in front of her eyes.

Paul
reached over to roll down her window, and she leaned toward the rush of fresh
air, breathing it in desperately.

When
she finally leaned back against the seat, she could sense Paul watching her,
scrutinizing her. She was vaguely embarrassed but felt too bad to care.

He
didn’t say anything.

Finally,
he reached over and put a hand on her forehead.

She
pulled away from his touch immediately, but he must have felt what he needed to
feel.

He
pressed the intercom that connected to the driver and said in a voice that was
upsettingly urgent, “We need to get to a hospital. Now. Now.”

And
that was the first time it occurred to Emily that she might have a fever.

About
the Author

Noelle handwrote her
first romance novel in a spiral-bound notebook when she was twelve, and she
hasn’t stopped writing since. She has lived in eight different states and
currently resides in Virginia, where she teaches English, reads any book she
can get her hands on, and offers tribute to a very spoiled cocker spaniel.

She
loves travel, art, history, and ice cream. After spending far too many years of
her life in graduate school, she has decided to reorient her priorities and
focus on writing contemporary romances. For more information, please check out
her website: noelle-adams.com