Chapter 10

This was a bad idea. Luke looked at Monica's townhouse from the street and cursed himself for his rash decision. She was ignoring him. The lights were on, so it was obvious she was awake. It should've been a sign to walk away and cut his losses while he was ahead.

Yet he couldn't do it. Not until he laid eyes on her and assured himself she was safe. Then he would ask her if she had changed her mind.

And if she did?

Then he would need to come up with a plan B because there was no way he was going to leave her unprotected when Fletcher was in the wind. He would walk away, because he wasn't a stalker, but his friends would watch her. They would do that for him.

Here goes nothing.

Before he could change his mind, Luke strolled up to the front door and pressed the doorbell. Despite the lights inside, he still half expected Monica not to answer the door. Color him surprised when seconds later, the piece of wood flung open.

"Well, hello there, sexy. And just who might you be?"

The tall blonde on the other side of the door wasn't Monica. She vaguely looked familiar, but he couldn't figure out where he knew her from. She was pretty, in her own right, but nothing like the raven-haired beauty he had been hoping to see.

"I'm sorry." He cleared his throat. "I thought this was Monica Cole's home."

"Oh, you've got the right place," the woman slurred. "Oh, Monica dear? I think the hunky guy from Rome is here to see you."

Hunky guy from Rome? Was it a good thing Monica was talking about him? He wanted to think so, but the scrutinizing look the blonde was giving him threw him off.

"Luke?" There was that damn velvety voice again. The one that wrapped itself around him and refused to let go. The one he had been desperate to hear all day.

"Hey." He had to clear his throat again. Damn, this woman affected him like no other. Made him unsure of himself. "I wanted to stop by and make sure everything was alright."

"Aw, isn't that sweet?" Another blonde popped her head around the wall that separated the entryway from the rest of the place. "He's cute. No wonder you hooked up with him in Rome."

"Ash …" Monica groaned as she dropped her head into her hands.

So this was Carmichael's daughter. The one who was kidnapped and the reason Silverstein was in jail. If he remembered correctly from Caden's intel, she moved away and now lived in Texas with her husband.

"Don't Ash me. He's hot, and I'm pretty sure he knows it considering Trista called him sexy. No need to play coy. Honesty is the best policy."

The woman who opened the door must be Trista St. Clair, the model. She was the other name Caden had pulled in regard to Monica's associates. No wonder she looked familiar. Her picture used to be plastered in every magazine.

"I did call him sexy and I stand by it."

"Princess." A deep growl rumbled behind him.

Luke whipped around and came face-to-face with a giant of a man. Luke was by no means small, but the man behind him had an easy five inches on his six-foot-two frame.

"Oh hey, big boy. You know you'll always be the sexiest of the bunch."

"Did Bentley send you to watch over us?"

One glance over his shoulder and it was clear who the man belonged to. Trista's eyes darkened with lust and she looked ready to pounce on the man. The other woman looked ready to commit murder. The hands on her hips were just the icing on the cake.

"Time to go." The man's tone didn't allow room for argument.

"That's no . . ."

"Yup," Trista cut Luke off and moved between him and the giant. "It's time to go before this turns into a testosterone-filled match or some shit. Ash, grab our stuff. You and I both knew there was no way Falcon or Bentley would let us go anywhere without our watchdog. He's just lucky he's so damn sexy, and I'm in the mood to show him what that does to me."

"Princess …" That time it was less growl and more exasperation.

He thought Ash mumbled something about alpha men under her breath, but he couldn't be sure. He made a mental note to check out who Monica's friends were married to. If he remembered correctly, she had mentioned that Ash's husband was in a similar line of work to him, so it would make sense that Trista's was as well.

"Go easy on her," Trista whispered. "She likes you but doesn't know what to do about it."

He didn't have a response. Not that Falcon allowed for one. The second Ash returned with their stuff, all three walked away. Leaving him alone on the front stoop.

"Come on in." Monica gave him a little shy wave.

He moved inside and shut the door behind him. Making sure it was locked, he followed her farther inside.

Tonight she looked nothing like she had in Rome. She had been dressed to the nines; sophisticated business attire, perfectly styled hair, and expertly done makeup.

Right now, she was anything but. Her long black hair was tossed haphazardly onto the top of her head. She was wearing sweatpants that cuffed around her ankles and showed off her purple-painted toenails. The T-shirt was about two sizes too big and looked like it had seen better days. Her face was devoid of any makeup, and if he were being honest with himself, he much preferred this side of her than the one that got all dolled up.

"I was going to call you back." He raised his brow and Monica winced. "Okay, at first I wasn't, but now I want to."

He didn't even want to begin to try to figure out what she meant by that.

He glanced around the spacious living area, stopping at the two empty bottles of wine.

"Do those have anything to do with why you suddenly changed your mind?"

At first, Monica looked confused by his question. It made him wonder just how much she had to drink. Having a serious conversation, when she wouldn't remember any of it in the morning, was pointless.

Luke could see the moment it clicked. Monica's eyes widened even further.

"No. Well, maybe but not entirely." She was babbling, and he had to say, it was kinda cute and a total opposite of the normally self-assured woman he first met. She let out a frustrated breath. "What I meant to say is, my friends were more the reason than the wine."

Ah, yes. Ash and Trista. He wasn't sure if he wanted to thank those two or shake his head at them. His first impression was to assume they were trouble.

"Interesting friends. I take it the giant is married to one of them?"

Monica moved to the couch and dropped onto the cushion. When she didn't immediately invite him to join her, he took it upon himself to sit on the loveseat rather than crowd her on the sofa.

"Falcon is Trista's husband, and before you say he treats her like an ass, just know that's not his usual demeanor. Well, maybe it is, but honestly, he's head over heels in love with her. He just doesn't like strangers. His lack of communication was because of you."

Good to know he didn't let two women walk away with an asshole. It wouldn't stop him from checking the guy out, but it made him feel marginally better.

"And Bentley?"

"Ash's husband. Both he and Falcon work for the same company but on different teams. Bentley probably stayed at Trista's apartment with the baby. She keeps it for when they come to visit which isn't as often as it used to be. Trista was right when she said there was no way the guys would let them come hang out without watching my place. They're overprotective like that."

That was a relief, and judging by how quickly Falcon had shown up, he knew the man had been keeping a close eye. It made him feel better knowing someone was watching her while he had been with his own team.

"I'm sorry I ignored you."

"What happened after we left Rome?"

He wanted to better understand how they had gone from talking about seeing each other when they got back to the States, to Monica declining all of his calls.

Monica toyed with the hem of her shirt and wouldn't meet his eyes. He figured that didn't bode well for him. If she was having second thoughts, that was fine. He wouldn't like it, but he was man enough to walk away.

"Carmichael got into my head," she finally whispered.

"The owner of the company?"

For some reason, that wasn't what he expected her to say.

"Ash's father, and yes, that particular Carmichael."

"What could he have possibly said?"

Monica was no longer slurring, so he assumed she had sobered some and knew what she was talking about, but it still didn't make any sense.

"You have to understand that Niles Carmichael is intense and that was before all the stuff went down with Silverstein. His company is everything to him. More so than his daughter, and I say that as her best friend. He was always more of a boss to Ash than an actual father.

"When Ash decided she didn't want to take over, we all thought it would be the end of the world. It took her months to convince him to even give me a chance and I'm not even sure he ever really did. Sure, I'm the CEO, but sometimes he still treats me like an employee rather than an equal. For three years I've tried to prove myself and I finally thought I was making headway. Then I had the meeting with Fletcher, and I swear it did more damage than anything."

Niles Carmichael sounded like an asshole. He was adding the guy"s name to the list of ones that Caden would be looking further into. The initial workup he had wasn't enough. He would turn the man"s life upside down.

"Yesterday, when I got to the office, he asked to see me. Gave me a lecture about focusing on the company and knowing where my priorities lie. By the time he was done scolding me, I had convinced myself that spending any time with you would only hurt me, so yeah, when you called today, I ignored you. Then my friends found me and put me in my place, so when they left, I had every intention of calling you back."

"And here I thought maybe it was something I did." He smirked so that she knew he was joking with her. It got the desired reaction he was looking for.

"Definitely nothing you did."

Her smile did something to him. It flooded his veins with so much warmth that he wanted to do everything he could to keep that smile forever on her lips.

"You're beautiful, you know that?"

Monica looked down at herself and suddenly the radiating smile slipped away. It was as if she just remembered what she was wearing.

"Oh my God," she groaned. "I can't believe you're seeing me in my raggy sweats. No one but my best friends ever see me like this."

"I happen to like it. Shows the real you, and that's sexier than any dress."

"Says the man wearing pressed pants and a button-up shirt." She waved her hand at him. He had to look down because he could barely remember his name around her, let alone what he had worn.

Sure enough, he was wearing exactly what she mentioned. He tried to remember why he was dressed up. Then it clicked.

"I had a meeting today with local law enforcement. Otherwise, I would never wear something like this on a regular day. I prefer jeans or even tactical pants."

Or pretty much anything other than dress clothes. But in his line of work, he was required to wear it more often than he liked.

"Even jeans are better than clothes that have seen better days."

Monica managed to drag a blanket off the back of the couch and covered herself up. He doubted it was because she was cold.

"You're awfully obsessed with appearances. I never would've taken you for that kind of woman."

He knew when the last word left his lips that he had made a huge mistake. They hadn't known each other long enough to make that kind of assumption.

"I'm sorry that caring about my image makes you think less of me," Monica snapped.

It dawned on him how much he fucked up when she tossed the blanket off and started to get up.

"Wait, that's not how I meant it. I didn't come here to argue or offend you." The words fell out of his mouth. "I just meant that I can't understand why it would concern you when you're beautiful. I mean, sure you're gorgeous all done up, but personally I prefer this fresh relaxed look. Makes you seem all that more real."

He figured he managed to smooth things over, at least a little, when she settled back into the cushions and placed the blanket back on her lap. It was a start. Better than her storming off and potentially kicking him out.

"No, I was out of line. Image is everything." The way she said the last sentence turned his stomach. Like the phrase had been drilled into her head and he wanted to punch whoever the hell had done that. "That's the Carmichael way," she spit the words out.

"So this goes back to your boss again?" That man sounded like a douchebag.

"Yes, and I've only had to deal with it since we got out of college. Ash was forced to follow that rule her entire life. Well, until Bentley got her out. Now I'm the one who has to hear about it."

"You know that's toxic, right? No one should have to live up to someone else's expectations."

Luke wasn't sure if it was the wine that loosened her lips, or if Monica was so fed up that she needed to offload her feelings, but he would sit and listen all night if that's what it took. It was clear it had been a long time since she spoke out and it was his fault her friends had left. Maybe that's what the women had been doing before he barged in and ruined things.

"Oh, I'm aware, and even if I wasn't, Ash and Trista would have no problem reminding me. Ash has asked me numerous times over the years if I was sure the company was what I wanted in my life."

"Is it what you want?"

Monica dropped her head back on the cushion with a loud exhale. "Yes, it's what I want. I just wish he would trust me with it. I'm not even sure what more I can do to prove myself, but being the CEO of a financial company has always been my dream. Taking it over is the icing on the cake, but it's not like I wanted it handed to me. I worked my ass off for it. I proved over and over that I was worthy and still it's not enough, but starting over somewhere else isn't an option either. I would be back at the bottom and it would take years to work my way up to where I am today. This line of work doesn't favor women."

Luke understood her predicament better than she realized. It was the exact reason he and his friends started their business. Leaving their respected agencies had been tough and taking jobs somewhere else would've forced them back to ground zero. Starting their own company was the only solution. Unfortunately, Monica probably didn't have the same option. Whereas he had six friends to help offset the costs, Monica would've had to do it on her own. And she wasn't wrong; most lines of work didn't favor women. It sucked and he wished there was a way he could help her, but really his only option was just to be a good sounding board for her.