C3 Chapter 2

James

The moment Whitney and her new boyfriend stepped into the ballroom, James Maxwell wanted to get the fucking hell out of there. His hands fisted tight as anger threatened to erupt to the surface, destroying his calm exterior. Having had years of experience with emotional control, he immediately slammed down the fury inside him with the force of cold logic. Getting pissed with her would bring him nothing but wasted energy on useless emotions.

“What the hell is she doing here?” Scott, the second Maxwell brother, hissed. “I thought she was in Rome.” He was staring at James’ ex-wife, who was dressed to the nines.

She was still breathtakingly beautiful, James admitted, but that beauty was now tainted in his eyes.

“How should I know?” James said calmly. “We’re divorced.”

Eric, the youngest Maxwell brother, snorted. “The bitch does know how to turn the party sour.”

“You okay, bro?” Scott asked.

James nodded. Leaving the party now wouldn’t look good, and everyone would know it was because of Whitney. Hell, if he’d let anyone think that. This alliance with the Worthingtons was too important to let this small inconvenience destroy the hope of a business contract between their two powerful families.

“The boyfriend looks as young as that kid Andy Donovan,” Eric said.

James eyed the new boyfriend. Eric was right. He looked as young, naïve, and gullible as Andy Donovan, the boy who’d been deserted by his so-called friends when they’d stupidly swindled and lost James’ two million in a gamble.

“Speaking of Andy,” Scott asked. “What the hell did you do to him?”

“Gave him a good talking to,” James said coldly. Of course the brothers knew what that meant. “He’s with Matt.”

“Shit! James,” Eric said in disbelief. “Why the hell did you give the kid to Matt? He’ll fuck the shit out of the boy.”

James didn’t disagree with that. Matt Caine preferred males for bedmates, not that James ever thought anything was wrong with that. After all, he was one of his best business partners as well as his best friend. Of course, Andy was just Matt’s type. He could tell the moment the man saw the boy. Sparks! Funny how he’d never felt any spark with Whitney.

“He likes the boy enough,” James said, shrugging. “Besides, I offered him a job for now, and Andy needed that job and a place to stay. Matt will look after him.”

He didn’t add the fact that William’s men were hot after the boy. Andy was an important eyewitness to a deal gone wrong a few months back. There had been a bit of backstreet shooting and bashing, as per usual in their part of the world, especially in Las Vegas where this particular incident had taken place. Of course, Andy would be dead in a few hours on the streets, even under the cops’ protection, if not for Matt’s expertise.

Scott laughed. He understood why James was keeping an eye on Andy. “You still want that two million back, don’t you?”

James shrugged. Two million was a lot of money, and he wouldn’t deny the fact that he wanted it returned to him. He knew, however, there was no hope of seeing even a dollar back from Andy himself. The boy was only twenty and barely able to survive in this sick, competitive, cutthroat business world. He looked like a lost, innocent lamb accidentally stepping into a pack of hungry wolves.

His sister, however, was a different story. She sounded like she had two million to spare, informing him via email that she’d be over to negotiate for his release.

James wanted to laugh at the word release. It wasn’t like he was imprisoning Andy against his will, for fuck’s sake.

“James, Scott, Eric.” Mr. Worthington’s voice drew James’ attention. He turned, as did his brothers. He put on the facade of the usual smile as he reached out one hand.

“Mr. Worthington,” he said. They clasped and shook hands, strong and firm, confirming their confidence and power to one another. Once released, the older man did the same to both Scott and then Eric.

“So how’s your father?” Mr. Worthington asked.

James shot Eric a look, wondering how the brother would react. Ever since their dad’s announcement last week, informing them of his intended marriage to a twenty-five-year-old, they’d been shocked. But Eric was the most affected since he’d thought his mother, a half-Chinese beauty who’d only died a couple of years ago from cancer, would be their dad’s last bride. After all, they’d known how much their old man loved and cherished her for the past twenty-five years.

But then no one could stop the man from falling in love again. The fact that he’d only seen the young woman twice, according to their very reliable source Lee, their dad’s chauffeur, didn’t dampen the old man’s enthusiasm either. And Eric’s rage against the outrageous notion certainly wouldn’t stop the planned ceremony that, James had no doubt, would take place in the near future. She’d be wife number four. A twenty-five-year-old woman would be their stepmother.

Just like Eric said… It’s fucked up! So fucked up.

“Good,” James said to Mr. Worthington. “He’s good.”

“It’s unfortunate he couldn’t come,” Mr. Worthington replied. “Maria would have been pleased.” At this comment, he eyed his wife on the other side of the ballroom, chatting with a group of people. “But never mind.” He smiled. “Shall we go to my office?”

James smiled and nodded curtly.

The discussion went as planned, and by the end of that short, unplanned session, an unofficial business contract between the Maxwells and the Worthingtons was sealed.

It was an hour later, as James stood alone on the balcony and looked out at the vast city below—a scene he was used to and quite tired of—when Whitney approached him.

“Hello, James,” she greeted.

Irritation burst within him immediately. He was pissed she was disturbing his peace, and he didn’t bother to hide it. Reluctantly, he turned his attention to her, a dark scowl on his face. “What do you want?”

She shrugged her slender shoulders elegantly. Then she leaned close to him, her hand touching his arm, lightly but intimately, like she used to do. He used to love it when she touched him. But after witnessing her touching another man, caressing his flesh and stroking his cock, it was quite different. Not this current guy. Another one. He couldn’t remember who he was now. He’d been a blur to James during the accidental discovery. He just remembered feeling the shock and then the anger and disbelief that his wife was fucking another man in their house. Well, her house now.

A sting of disgust burned his arm where she still had her hand, and the urge to shove it away was strong.

“Don’t you miss this?” she asked, resting her head on his shoulder.

Irritation surged stronger through his veins, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He propelled her off him and took a step back. “What are you doing?”

“I thought you missed me,” she said, giving him that beautiful smile of hers that used to bring him to his knees. But not any longer. Now he only felt disgusted by it.

He folded his arms across his chest and chose the subject he needed to discuss with her most. “Are you planning on seeing Aria anytime soon?”

At the mention of their daughter, she became agitated. “Well, you know, it’s better I don’t see her…yet.”

“For fuck’s sake, Whitney, give your own daughter some of your time. It’s been three years.”

He hated to say the next sentence, because to be honest, he didn’t want Aria to see Whitney, a mother who didn’t give a shit about her own daughter. A mother who’d rather run off with a man she’d been fucking than stay with her own three-year-old, who cried and begged for her. But his heart hurt like hell when he saw Aria so wounded every time he told her Whitney wouldn’t be able to come.

“She misses you.”

Whitney frowned and snapped, “She was only three. She can’t remember much of me.”

Her words pissed him off. He had to take a deep breath to calm the wrath that was slowly building inside him.

“And soon she won’t remember you at all if you don’t make any effort to see her,” he said coldly. He no longer wanted to be there, no longer wanted to be near the woman who had cheated on him—since the beginning of their relationship. He turned on his heel and walked away.

“James, wait!”

“Whitney,” he said harshly over his shoulder, “get your life straightened out and then come and see our daughter once in a while.”

Back in the ballroom where billionaires and millionaires mingled, James headed straight to his brothers.

“I’m leaving,” he said.

Scott eyed the balcony James had just left and saw Whitney there. He understood. “Kiss Aria for me,” he said.

“Me too,” Eric chimed in. “And tell her I already miss her.”

James laughed. The two were smitten with their niece, of course. Thank God, the little darling wasn’t one bit like her mother, both in character and looks. Aria was a Maxwell through and through. She took after James in every possible way, and he loved her for that. Hell, he just loved her regardless. She was everything to him, and he knew she wouldn’t disappoint him like her mother had, throwing away his love like she did her no-longer-desired shoes or dresses.

Fuck! Love was meant to be unconditional. A mutual feeling shared between two people, between husband and wife, that lasted ’til death do us part. Not something to be taken lightly and discarded without a second thought.

At the door, he glanced once more at Whitney and then left.