The Galilee Falls Trilogy (Book 3): Fall of Heroes (6 page)

“You would notice that last one.”

“So, what did he do, the seemingly perfect yet dull Jem Ambrose?”

Crap, I forgot to work out a cover story. I could just tell him the truth. I sure as shit don’t owe either of those motherfuckers a damn thing, certainly not loyalty. But as I open my mouth what comes out is, “Let’s just say he turned out to not be the man I’d hoped he was. That he betrayed me, lied to me, and just one of those is a deal breaker.”

“Good to know.” Bennett smiles empathetically. I better start getting used to that again. The pity. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re in pain. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Yeah. You can take me upstairs to my hotel room and fuck my brains out.” I down the rest of my Jack Daniels. “That’d help.”

Bennett’s eyes narrow as he chuckles. “Oh, my.” He shakes his head. “You don’t beat around the bush do you?”

“Nope. So, what do you say? Are you all bark or do you want to bite, playboy?”

He blinks wildly. Adorable. “No, I, it’s an enticing offer. I just…think Jack Daniels is making it.”

I touch my nose with both fingers before reciting the alphabet backwards. My reluctant Romeo chuckles at the whole performance. “Want me to walk in a straight line too?” I slip off my stool. “Watch me do it all the way to my bed.”

I turn on my heel and like a forties femme fatale, I sway my hips as I walk away. Five steps later he’s at my side. On the walk, on the ride in the elevator, we don’t say a word. Don’t even look directly at one another, until the door to my hotel room closes and I ask, “Do you have a condom?” He removes his wallet and holds up the packet. “Then take off your pants and lie on the bed.”

Though he raises an eyebrow, he complies without a word. Nice. Tanned, toned legs of an athlete, perfect sized cock growing bigger by the second. He’ll do. As I drink the smirking playboy in, I remove my own pants and panties with the same quick efficiency. Like his, my shirt remains on. If he minds, he doesn’t say. He doesn’t utter a word the entire time. Not when I straddle him, not when I force his hands down onto the bed when he attempts to touch me, not while I ride him. Roughly. Cruelly. Until it hurts. I barely look at my toy. What’s attached to his cock doesn’t matter. I just take what I want. And when my toy’s spent, when he cries out in pleasure, I feel nothing. Only the ever present numbness since Jem left. Now he’s gone forever.

As I climb off Bennett, he laughs, “Holy fuck! That was amazing!” I flop beside him, staring at the ceiling as he continues to laugh and pant. “Really. Amazing. You’re a damn hellcat, Fallon.”

His chuckles begin to make my skin crawl. “Glad you liked it.” I pause. “You can leave now.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You got what you wanted. So did I. So you can leave now. Bye.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as he sits up to study my face. I continue staring up. “What? Seriously?” he chuckles nervously.

“Seriously. I’m tired. I want to go to sleep. We have a meeting tomorrow morning. So…bye.”

My boy toy stares for several seconds then shakes his head. “O-kay…” The man stands, tosses the condom in the trash, and retrieves his pants from the floor, treating me to a great view of his ass. Good but nowhere as fine as Jem’s.
Jem.
My heart physically wrenches at the mere thought of him. “You are something else, you know that, right?” Bennett asks.

“What? You want to stay and cuddle? Maybe braid each other’s hair?” I scoff. “Please.”

“Did I say it was a bad thing?” He zips his fly and turns around. “I can stay, you know. If you need someone to talk to. I am also an amazing hair braider.”

“Bye,” I say in sing-song. Shaking his head, he moves to the door. “Thanks for the sex!” I call as he walks out.

The moment the door shuts, the show’s over. Alone once more. Just me and the pain. I still feel him. Jem. Inside me. On my skin. In my soul. I thought that might cleanse him. That the booze, the sex would kill him like an antibiotic against an infection, or at least anesthetize me enough I could pretend it worked. It used to work. But now, if anything, I just feel worse. Physically ill. Disgusting.

Fuck it.

After grabbing a tiny Bourbon from the mini-bar, I stumble into the bathroom and turn on the shower. I don’t even bother to take off my sweater. I just slump in a heap onto the tile and chug the bottle as the water burns me. Baptism by fire. I’ve fallen before. Like the phoenix, I shall rise from the ashes, blah blah blah. What other choice do I have? What other choice have they left me? The men I loved? Love. What bullshit. I won’t make that mistake again. I’m nobody’s fool. Not anymore. And never again.

*

One thing I didn’t miss about drinking were the damn hangovers. My tolerance has regressed to the neophyte stage. I used to be able to consume an entire bottle and only get a headache. I only had four drinks and one mini-bottle and have thrown up twice, needed two showers to help with the body aches, and not even four aspirin have quelled my headache. It’s our turn to be late today. Shannon had to break into my room and shake me awake. After the second shower, I slapped on lipstick, put my hair in a wet ponytail, slid on a black pantsuit, and chugged the coffee Shannon made me as we trekked to our limo. Lane and our lawyer Sherman have been waiting in the lobby for over half an hour and seem none too happy when I finally do drag my carcass downstairs.

“What—” Lane begins.

“I overslept,” I snap as I put on my sunglasses. “It happens. Let’s go.”

I lead the posse to the awaiting limo. Goddamn the sun is bright today. Is it always this bright? Not even the sunglasses help. Thank God for tinted windows. Darker but not dark enough I can remove my sunglasses. Shannon gets in beside me with Lane and Sherman to the left.

“I already told them we’re running late,” Lane says as the door shuts.

“Good for you,” I mutter.

“Are you okay?” he asks, more hostile than concerned. “Are you—?”

“Shannon, does Pendergast have a spare corporate apartment open? You know, the ones we have clients stay in?”

“Yes. Two.”

“Then I’ll take the nicer of the two. Have someone prepare it for tonight. Air it out, buy some food, usual shit. I’m also going to need you to arrange for a dozen boxes to be sent to the penthouse. I’ll pack myself, but I’ll need a moving company to pick them up and carry them to the new apartment. Then again when I find a permanent residence. Got all that?”

“Yes,” she says, scribbling on her pad.

“You’re moving? Again?” Lane asks. “Why?”

“Why do you think?”

“You and Ambrose split up?” Lane asks. “When did this happen? What—”

“None of your damn business.”

“I’m sorry but it is my business,” Lane counters. “You splashed around the tabloids and coming to meetings hung-over affects Pendergast.”

“Then it’s a damn good thing I’m quitting Pendergast,” I say.

“You’re what?” Lane asks. “You can’t.”

“The hell I can’t. I never wanted to work for your damn company anyway. I hate it. I hate the boring meetings, the asshole executives who treat me like a sideshow freak, and I hate having to dress up and pretend I have any idea what I’m doing. I’ve given enough of my life to it, but I’m done. Fuck Pendergast.”

“What the
hell
is going on?” Lane asks Shannon, who just shrugs.

“What’s going on is I’m tired. I’m tired of giving, and giving, and getting fuck all in return but pain and heartache. I’m tired of living for other people. If other people don’t give a shit, why should I? It’s over. I’m
done
. Today’s my last official day as your dancing monkey. Plus Shannon’ll be much better in the position than me.” I look over at my flummoxed assistant. “Congratulations, you’ve just been promoted.”

“I—” Shannon begins.

“This is madness!” Lane proclaims. “Joanna, if this is another ruse like the one during the Cain incident, you need—”

“It’s not. This is a hundred percent real.” I look at Shannon. “Draft up whatever papers are needed for you to become my proxy. Convene the board, scream it from the rooftops, whatever. As of tomorrow, I quit.”

I stare out the window at the passing shops and boutiques. I know the others exchange confused and worried glances, but I don’t care. I made up my mind last night, even before the Jem bullshit. I only stuck it out this long for Justin. To preserve his legacy. Well, if he doesn’t give a shit about it, why the fuck should I? Besides, he should have given his shares to Shannon in the first place. She knew all the players, all the plays, and actually has a business degree. The company’s in better hands with her making my decisions. Falling in love with Jem, drinking my weight in whiskey, and fucking Bennett Stone show I clearly make wrong ones.

“Joanna, whatever happened with Ambrose—”

“This has nothing to do with him,” I insist. “This has to do with clarity.”

“No, this has to do with the alcohol you obviously consumed last night. If you’re checking yourself into rehab, you need to let us know,” Lane says. “It won’t leave this—”

“Jesus Christ! I thought you’d be over the damn moon I’m quitting, not leading the Spanish Inquisition.”

“Well, we need to tell people something,” Shannon points out.

“I’m resigning to pursue other ventures. I’m resigning to focus on charity. I’m resigning to become a nun. I don’t care what you tell them. And if they ask about the break-up give them the standard, ‘No comment.’”

“Well, what did happen?” the lawyer asks.

“No comment.”

Lane throws up his hands in frustration. “This is insanity. You have lost your mind.”

“Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t. Either way, you’re well rid of me.”

“But what
will
you do?” Shannon asks.

I haven’t gotten that far in the plan. Not that there really is a plan. “I’ll do whatever I want. The world’s my oyster, right? Untethered and unencumbered, answering to nothing and no one. Aren’t I the lucky girl?”

The trio smartly stop their inquiries and we ride in silence the two minutes to Goliath. As the glass behemoth comes into view, repairs still underway, it’s so strange to think that when we arrived here not twenty-four hours ago my life was completely different. I just
had
to surprise Lucy. I just had to show up when he was visiting her. If I had chosen to arrive ten minutes earlier or later I’d still be living in blissful ignorance. Everyone’s always harping about the goddamn truth, myself included. The truth is overrated. Seriously. The truth can suck my dick.

We’re ushered back to the conference room where the Goliath team wait. I suppose I should feel a sense of shame or at least embarrassment when I set eyes on Bennett, but nope. My give a damn’s busted. He smiles at me as he rises from the table. “Hello. All.”

“Sorry for our tardiness,” Lane says.

“Well, you know what they say about glass houses and stones,” Bennett retorts as we sit.

I remove my sunglasses. “Doesn’t stop most people from throwing the fuckers.”

“Guess that makes me better than them,” he says, not missing a beat. “Go me.”

Even I manage a smile for that one. His grows larger. Just for me. I look away.

“Let’s not waste any more time,” Lane chimes in. “I understand we only have a few wrinkles to iron out. Shall we begin?”

As I sit for two hours listening to dull as hell negotiations about arbitration liability and tax write-offs, I realize without a shadow of a doubt I’ve made the right decision. For once. I’ve wasted over a year of my life in conference rooms bored out of my skull. No fucking more. Bennett keeps trying to catch my eye, but I stare straight ahead at the door. Thank Christ we did all the heavy lifting yesterday, so today’s torture only lasts two hours. The novel size contract gets signed, notarized, and I’m finally free.

That’s that.

After the last signature, I leap from my seat and rush for the bathroom, mostly to avoid Bennett, okay mostly due to the five cups of coffee I drank to stay awake. An empty bladder. The highlight of my day. I—

When I step out of the stall, I’m shocked to find the person—well, one of them—I was actively trying to avoid, leaning against the sink with that damn boyish grin of his affixed.

“Jesus Christ,” I gasp.

“Not quite,” Bennett quips, smile growing.

I roll my eyes. “So you’re a pervert as well as an asshole. That your kink? Listening to women pee?”

“Maybe I was hoping for a quickie.”

I roll my eyes again and move toward the sinks to wash my hands. “What? Were you doodling ‘Mr. Joanna Fallon’ surrounded by hearts in your notebook earlier?”

“You peeked,” he says with a fake pout.

A wry chuckle escapes me. “Look last night was last night and this morning is this morning, and never the twain shall meet again. I like you. I do. You’re funny, you’re gorgeous, you’re decent in bed, but my life is fucked right now. Not to mention you live hundreds of miles away and I have no intention of ever,
ever
setting foot in this shitty city again.” I move around him to the paper towels. “But hey, if you ever find yourself in Galilee, given time, I may be up for a few laughs, who knows? Life can turn on a dime, right?”

He studies me, eyes narrowing. “He really did a number on you, huh?”

“Which he?” With an eyebrow raised, I turn my back on him and walk toward the door.

“Joanna?” Bennett calls. I spin around. “Take care of yourself.”

“No one else will, huh?” I pucker my lips in a kiss and step out. “Bye, playboy. It’s been memorable.”

The Pendergast contingent wait for me by the elevators and don’t say a word the ride down to the lobby. There’s nothing they can say, and maybe they know me well enough to realize that. Or maybe they don’t want me to change my mind. They’ll be popping champagne when they return to Pendergast. Shannon will be ten times the deal maker I’m supposed to have been.

We step off the elevator and through the foyer. I have so much shit to do now. Packing, selling the manor, I’m sure there’ll be a ton of paperwork needed for my resig—

“Joanna?”

I cringe when I hear her voice. Of course. When I spin around, Lucy’s already risen from her chair in the vast lobby. Just waiting to pounce. Lane and Shannon actually smile at Judas as she slowly begins her approach. Nope. I stride toward her to intercept. I am in no mood for this.