Claiming Amelia Page 2

  I’d foolishly thought I could rebuild my life with just a few changes after the relationship ended, but that was the funny thing about life when you went around making plans and thinking they’d be easy.

  The restaurant got slated by corporate for massive upgrades and a three-week long remodel. It was gorgeous, and I was excited for the next chapter of my professional life at least, even if I had to watch Peter and Kimmy shamelessly fawn over each other after catching them together.

  It seriously made me want to retch each time she giggled, or he winked, but I did my best to keep my head down and my eyes off them. And it seriously made me think harder about moving to the West Coast. I’d always dreamed of living in California, and now might be the right time.

  But my comfort zone had gotten too comfortable, even if I really didn’t like it anymore. Plus, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to pull up roots and move to a place where I knew exactly zero people.

  One afternoon, a week before the grand reopening, Sully called me into his office for a meeting. I’d literally had no idea what he could want with me, and I remembered feeling stupidly and girlishly optimistic. Maybe I was due for some sort of promotion? A raise? The possibilities were endless in my mind that day.

  “We’re letting you go.”

  Sully’s words were efficient and brutal, much like the man himself.

  I sat, stunned into silence, while he continued to pound the calculator on his desk and tally up delivery totals. Looked like I was being shoved from my comfort zone, like it or not.

  Sputtering a moment, I finally found my tongue and asked him, “Why?”

  He didn’t even look up at me, just kept up the annoying clacking. “Because we’re going in a new direction.”

  It was bullshit, of course. I was the second-in-command. The direction would come from the executive chef, Peter. If they wanted a new direction, they would have laid him off and not me.

  “It’s nothing personal, Amelia,” Sully said. I knew deep down he was a good man, but right then, I hated him. “We’ve got to make things work in the kitchen and we just can’t under the current climate. You’re young, and you’re talented, and you’ll have a much easier time finding a new gig than he will.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from lashing out. Hell, I still needed a good reference from him, and I knew it would be pointless. Sully and Peter were buddies, and their friendship went back further than my puny relationship with Peter did.

  I was screwed, and I knew it. I wanted to knock shit off Sully’s desk and rage in his face, but my dad had taught me that there was dignity in the high road — leaving them nothing to disparage or laugh about when you were gone.

  It was so hard, but Pop was right. So, with a tight hold on my rising emotions, I took my last check from Sully and left to clear out my locker.

  As I was dumping hair brushes, clean t-shirts, and extra makeup into a plastic grocery bag, I sensed someone approaching me from behind. Glancing over my shoulder, I rolled my eyes when I saw Peter.

  “Amelia,” he began, deep and dramatic, just like always. Christ, the man couldn’t even say a name without making some production out of it. “I hope that you’ll someday see all of this for what it really is — a learning experience. You’ve taught me so much. I hope you’ll come to realize that I’ve taught you as well.”

  I swallowed hard as I slammed the locker shut and turned to face him.

  “I’ve taught you, huh?” I growled. “What did I teach you, Peter? To bring in your hide-a-key when you’re cheating on your girlfriend?”

  He blanched a little at that, and it felt good to see him a bit discomforted.

  “You’ve taught me to truly honor what I’m looking for in a woman, Amelia,” he pressed on, choosing to ignore my last remark. “And to seize upon it when I find it. Without you, I wouldn’t have been able to recognize Kimmy as my true soul mate when she danced into my—”

  My poor father.

  I thought about his words of wisdom being wasted on my ears as I cocked my fist back and let a straight right fly through the space between Peter and me, right into the soft, squishy part of his nose.

  The sickening crunch was the sign that I’d hit my mark, and Peter’s nasally, girly screams were simply confirming the fact that I’d likely broken his nose.

  “Jesus Christ, Byrne,” Sully said as he stormed out of the office, seeing his friend doubled over with blood pouring from his nose. “Get out of here before he calls the cops.”

  Sully shooed me to the front door in a final act of mercy, and I left La Sur behind, not looking back.

  Dignity be damned.

  That had been three weeks ago, and in the short span of time, I’d been released from the lease on my apartment, sold most of my things on an online garage sale site, and agreed to return to my parents’ house for a temporary “reboot” while I applied for jobs in California.

  “You can get your feet on the ground and help your father out a little,” my mother had said, as though working in my father’s office straightening his books out was something I’d relish and not dread. My father, Jack Byrne, owned Byrne Brothers Construction and had built a great life for my mother, my brother, and me over the years. He’d started as a general contractor, building anything from outdoor privacy fences to remodeling kitchens. Nowadays, he had bigger fish on his line, and he had a fleet of workers and equipment that could be seen all over the streets of our neighborhood and beyond, building up the strip malls and hotels that investors were bringing to South Boston.

  My idiot brother Jack, Jr., or JJ as we called him, bombed out of college his second semester and wound up working for my dad. These days, at twenty-nine, he liked to say he worked with my dad, and I was sure Pop felt bad for his only son now and then and threw him a bone — a project that he could oversee from start to finish with little oversight.

  I was also sure JJ wasn’t thrilled to have his little sister moving back into the family house. We’d never seen eye to eye. But, frankly, at this point, I didn’t care. I didn’t have a job. I didn’t have a car. I didn’t have a clue as to what was next, and Mom promised me that I could stay for as long — or little — as I needed to.

  She’d also hinted that Pop really needed my help. A true Daddy’s girl through and through, that sealed the deal. She wouldn’t specify what she meant, but I knew there was something going on by how she repeated it over the few phone conversations it had taken to convince me to move home for a while. So even though the golden state was calling me, I’d agreed.

  On my way out of my apartment building, I handed my keys and my paperwork to Emilio, our building attendant who kept an office downstairs.

  He gave me a quick squeeze. “Gonna miss seeing you around, Amelia.”

  “Same, Emilio.” I shouldered my bags as my cab rolled up out front.

  “Take care of yourself,” he called as I pushed through the glass doors.

  “I will,” I called back, meaning both words.

  I knew I’d let things get out of balance with Peter and my work at La Sur, and as I slid into the back seat of the yellow taxi, I swore that I’d never let a man get so under my skin again in all my life.

  Famous last words.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Declan

  The meeting was taking forever.

  I made another purposeful glance at my watch in hopes that the idiot doing all the talking would notice I was annoyed that he was going over his allotted presentation time, but either he wasn’t paying attention, or he didn’t care.

  “That’s enough,” I finally said when he’d gone five minutes over. I didn’t tolerate people who didn’t respect my time. I showed up places when I was supposed to, and I left when our meeting was over. I expected no less from everyone else around me, even potential business partners. Especially business partners who wanted in on my real estate development deals that promised to make us both a ton of money.

  “Are you certain, Mr. Casey?” The man — I thought h
is name was John or James or something, I’d never remember anyway — swallowed hard and adjusted his tie. I picked up the stack of papers he’d prepared for me and handed them back to him. I never carried papers around anymore. It was the digital era for a reason.

  “Send these to my assistant, Clara, and if we’re interested in your ideas, we’ll call you.”

  We held a plot of land close enough to the waterfront that was about to explode in development. We were looking for profitable businesses to put on its blank canvas, and Jim-John-Whatever-His-Name-Was had just spent the last half hour trying to convince me that I wanted to put another fast food franchise in there.

  Foot traffic, profit margins, brand visibility — blah blah blah. Jim-John talked to me like I was an idiot, and I’d almost instantly decided that I wasn’t going to do business with him. I just hadn’t told him that. I’d still wanted to hear what he said, what his terms were, and what he stood to gain from his participation in the deal so I could use the data for negotiations in the future.

  Jim-John was dead to me the moment he walked into Paola’s, a fancy Italian joint I happened to like, with a cheap suit and a wrinkled shirt underneath it.

  For Christ’s sake, the gray suit jacket had threads dangling from the seams on his wrist, and one of the button holes in the lapel had all but frayed apart. And a wrinkled, dingy white shirt?

  I didn’t mind his clothes being old or even cheap, because I knew that not everyone had the resources I did. But wrinkled and dirty? There was no excuse for that. And it was evidence of just how carefully he’d tend any business he put on my property. He wouldn’t.

  Game over for Jim-John.

  “Of course, Mr. Casey,” the man said, taking the papers in a shaking hand as I stood. Behind me, Brennan handed me my coat and sunglasses.

  “So, I’ll give you a call in a couple days?” Jim-John was giving it one last go, probably seeing that he’d somehow missed the deal.

  I held up a hand. “If I need to speak to you, I’ll be in touch. If you don’t hear from me, assume your proposal didn’t align with my plans.”

  The man’s face visibly fell, and Brennan cleared his throat behind me.

  No matter how much of a hardass I was, Brennan always found it amusing.

  I shot my second a dirty look and started to walk toward the door, knowing my car was already waiting out front.

  Outside, the fall air was crisp as I took in the activity out on the sidewalk. People were bustling back to work and chatting away on their cell phones. As I walked slowly toward the curb, I noticed a woman leaning close to the menu that Paola’s had posted outside. From that angle, all I could really see was long, silky raven hair that fell to the middle of the woman’s arm. She was wearing a navy-colored peacoat, jeans, and tall black boots. Her legs were perfectly shaped in those tight jeans, and I didn’t mind admiring them a moment, when she turned to look at me.

  Holy shit.

  I recognized her instantly — Amelia Byrne. She was younger than me, seven years to be exact, so we were never in school together. Her family sat two pews behind mine at St. Bernadette’s, a few streets over, so I saw her at least once a week.

  Her father, Jack, had been a school friend of my old man, and they’d even done business together a few times when he’d finally gotten out of racketeering and started dabbling in being a businessman with actual, physical businesses.

  Jack was a good man and his wife, Rosie, was a good woman.

  And Amelia? Well, damn… she’d grown into a real good woman.

  Her dark eyes scanned over me before widening in recognition while her pretty pink lips popped open in surprise.

  She really was good, though, because before half a second passed, she’d fixed her face with a mask of bored indifference — as though she had no idea who I was. Like she didn’t remember the night I’d kissed her within an inch of her life after her graduation ceremony.

  Yeah, she knew who I was, and the fact that she was dismissing me and striding down the street without a word really pissed me off.

  The heat of her gaze and her rebuke simmered through my system, and I itched to take off after her and… what? Make her talk to me? Kiss her again? See if her skin was as soft as it was all those years ago?

  My cock pulsed in my pants. Shit.

  I nearly ripped the car door handle off before the driver could reach for it. Once inside, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and punched in my assistant’s number.

  “Yes, Mr. Casey?” Clara, ever the professional, answered.

  “I need you to do a little research for me,” I said. “I just saw an old friend of mine in town, and I want to know why she’s here.”

  I gave Clara the details of the Byrne family, everything I knew.

  “I want to know if she’s in town permanently or just visiting. Also, look into the Byrne Brothers company. Tell me their profits, loss, everything.”

  After hanging up, I searched the sidewalk, hoping for one last glimpse of Amelia. Or more truthfully, hoping that she’d changed her mind and was coming back to me.

  I couldn’t see her anywhere. She was gone.

  Not for long though.

  Not for long.

  ***

  As much as I tried to forget the fact that Amelia Byrne was back in Boston, as much as I tried to force myself to study the proposal in front of me, those blessed few seconds I observed her had etched some sort of groove in my brain, and she was a thought I couldn’t shake.

  I’d always been aware when Amelia was around, even when she was a goofy middle schooler my younger brothers had the hots for. They’d only been a year or two ahead of Amelia in school while I had been a whole seven years ahead. I was in grad school, living the dream of women and booze when Amelia had come of age.

  And man, had she. Even back then, I remembered stumbling upon her at one of the masses the parish had for graduating seniors. She’d shot up and filled out in all the right places since I’d last seen her the year before. I had done my best not to do a double take back then, but I sure as hell had done a double take today.

  With a long exhale, I scrubbed my palm down my face and took a few sips of water from the glass on my desk.

  Focus. I needed to focus.

  Clara’s line lit up my phone, and I picked it up, probably a little too eagerly, thankful for the distraction.

  “Yes?”

  “Brennan’s here, sir.”

  Good. More business to keep me from thinking about that long black hair hanging around her face so alluringly. Did she still have the freckles I’d liked so much all those years ago? God, I hoped so.

  I’d been so lost in that train of thought that I didn’t hear Brennan stride across the thick carpet. “What the hell is putting that look on your face?”

  Ever the observant pain in the ass.

  “Don’t worry about my face,” I said stiffly, taking another swig of water, wishing it was something stronger.

  “If you say so,” Brennan said under his breath, a smirk on his features. I didn’t like the look on his face now.

  I straightened in my chair, putting the mask of professionalism back in place. “Did you come here for a reason or just to annoy me?”

  “For a reason, obviously. Annoying you is a bonus.” When I opened my mouth to give some sarcastic reply, he held up a hand. “We have names from the arson incident.”

  Lucky for Brennan, this was something I needed to hear, or I would have given him hell for trying to bust my balls. Especially if he’d found out about Amelia. It’d taken a solid two months to get him to stop making fun of me for kissing her after her high school graduation, and at twenty-five, it’d been pretty humiliating.

  “What did you guys find out?”

  Brennan took the chair on the other side of my desk and lowered his giant body into it. “It was just like you were worried about.” His face was grim. “Duffy family.”

  My entire body went rigid at the name. Few families in Boston pissed me off qu
ite like the Duffy clan did, and to hear my uncles tell it, they’d had the same relationship with the previous generations of Duffys too. Just my luck, the two younger idiot brothers wanted to continue the traditions their old man started thirty years ago.

  “Any clue what they were trying to do? Were they really trying to burn the whole place down?”

  It seemed like a crazy idea, given that people in these neighborhoods had long memories and would likely carry a grudge forever if they found out a family like the Duffys was trying to scare them.

  But the Duffys weren’t brain surgeons, and a lot of the reason they were a second-class tough guy squad was because they were mostly idiots. Violent idiots.

  “Intimidation is my guess,” Brennan said, “but they can’t hire for shit, and the morons they used nearly destroyed everything.”

  It’d been close, but lucky for us, our local fire departments were equipped and responsive. In the end, a few of the units in the shopping center had taken pretty decent damage, but the place as a whole survived relatively unscathed.

  They were lucky it had too. If anybody had been killed, or lost their businesses, there would have been hell to pay. As it were, though, I decided to see just how far the Duffys were willing to push before we acted.

  I hadn’t made a pile of money overnight by overreacting and showing my hand too quickly.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Amelia

  The first few days after returning home seemed to fly by. Begrudgingly, I had to admit it wasn’t as bad as I’d made it out to be in my head on the plane ride from Alabama. I’d convinced myself somehow that the neighborhood had to be in shambles, falling down and in disrepair, and that it was run by the same old hoodlums that had run it back when I was a kid.

  Only, it seemed that Dorchester had aged fairly well. I was glad to see that there were still the mom-and-pop shops dotting every street corner, and there was also just the right amount of new businesses and trendy shopping venues to bring a little life and money into the place.

  “You doing okay, sweetheart?” Pop asked me for the fifth time since I arrived at his office about an hour ago. I’d made sure to stop off at our favorite donut place and pick up his maple frosted and black coffee. According to Mom, she’d cut him off the sweets a few years back, but the old man needed to be spoiled every now and then.