Aaron had not foreseen Angie being that in the know about her Chaos clients. She’d made Steele sound like a crusader for justice, and Carissa hadn’t even blinked.

She knew it all, or if she didn’t know it all, she knew enough not to give a shit.

Then she’d walked out and right into Steele’s arms.

Right into his arms.

“I said, shut up.”

His father’s face twisted.

“Don’t let that little bitch get into your head,” he hissed. “She’s been fucking with it since she was fucking fourteen.”

Carissa was a little bitch now. For over a decade, she’d been everything from an angel to a demon depending on his father’s mood.

His mother had always loved her.

His mother detested Tory.

His father didn’t mind staring at Tory’s tits any time she was around, but he thought she was a low-class homewrecker, and he’d shared that straight to Aaron’s face.

Repeatedly.

He’d never win with his dad.

But Carissa had always been a winner with his mother.

One out of two had not been bad.

Aaron advanced until he was nose to nose with his father, the man pressed to the side of the elevator.

“Aaron,” Steven whispered.

“Do not ever call Carissa a bitch.”

“I raised a weak son,” his father sneered. “Mind filled with skirt.”

I can’t stand the sight of you.

The doors opened.

Aaron backed away from his dad and strode out.

* * *

Aaron Neiland didn’t go to his office.

He went to his house.

The house his fucking father shoved down his throat.

He knew Carissa hated it. It was big and imposing, took forever to clean, it wasn’t her. Not even a little bit.

It could have been her, if they’d worked up to it, they’d started smaller and he’d been able to give her bigger and do it gradually, but his parents planting them in it when he was just starting as a junior associate…

No.

He went to the kitchen, opened a cupboard, grabbed a glass, opened another cupboard, grabbed a bottle, but stopped himself before pouring.

The bottle held an expensive Scotch whisky.

His dad drank Scotch.

He stared at the bottle.

Fuck, why did he drink whisky? He hated it.

He poured it down the drain and made what he liked.

A gin and tonic.

Then he did what the asshole in a romantic movie would do.

He went to the box that Tory had filled and put in the closet of one of the guest rooms. He tugged it out. He grabbed the wedding album. He went to the bed and dropped it on it.

He slugged back some gin and tossed open the cover.

The first picture was of Carissa sitting on a green lawn, bouquet in her hand, massive dress spread all around, her eyes up and not looking at the camera, but shifted to the right.

She was laughing.

Carissa had asked their photographer to put a picture of the two of them together at the beginning of the album.

Carissa’s dad had insisted on paying for the wedding, including the photographer, but still, even though she wasn’t paying for it, his mother had vetoed Carissa’s wishes and chosen that photo.

As usual, his mother got what she wanted.

Aaron stared at the picture, his gut twisting.

He looked at her face in the photo and remembered that moment. Remembered it exactly.

It had been half an hour after they’d been declared married. He’d spent half that time in the back of their limo making out with his beautiful new wife, enjoying himself immensely, and also enjoying pissing off his parents, who wanted his and his wife’s asses in front of the photographer.

But as that photo was taken, he was standing to the photographer’s left and it had been all about Carissa. All about how sure he was about her right there in that beautiful gown. All about how sure he’d always been that they would have that, him in a tux, her in a wedding dress.

He’d been happy, happy for himself, happy for her, and because of that he’d been teasing her. He’d made her laugh and the photographer had snapped the picture.

I can’t stand the sight of you.

He swallowed, staring at the album.

That had been Aaron’s favorite shot. He liked it up front. He’d never said anything, but whenever he opened that album, that was precisely the picture he wanted to see.

Carissa looking beautiful and happy, laughing because he gave her that.

He liked to tell himself that was what he intended to give her for the rest of her life, even when he knew he was on the path to becoming his father, so he also knew it was a fucking lie.

He’d dicked her around. He knew that too. It was like he couldn’t help himself.

His father told him it happened. “You just have to get it out of your system, son. You’re young. You will. When you do, if she’s worth having a Neiland and knows what’s good for her, she’ll be there. Trust me.”

So he always knew, in the end, it would be her.

He was just so ridiculously arrogant, he didn’t know, in the end, for her it shouldn’t be him.

His mind filled with her weeping in Carson Steele’s arm.

I’ve loved her since high school, man.

Aaron slugged back more gin and stared at the photo.

You gotta drag her down, that’ll suck, but I’ll pick her back up.

Carissa stared up at him.

Laughing.

You gotta rip her apart, I’ll fuckin’ hate watchin’ it, but I’ll put her back together.

He threw back the last of the gin.

Push her to the point she can’t stand the sight of you. But do it knowin’ that’s all on you. Just like everything that went before, it’s all on you.

Fuck, the asshole was right.

He never should have allowed his father to come that day. He had no clue what he was thinking. He wasn’t seventeen and going to the principal’s office.

He was fucking twenty-six and going to a meeting to negotiate his son’s future.

As uncomfortable as it was, as hideous as it felt coming to the realization, Aaron had no choice. Too much was at stake with the most important parts of that being the happiness and well-being of the woman he loved and their child.

And that realization was the fact it was time he grew the fuck up.

I love him.

He drew in breath before he set the glass aside and reached into his inside suit jacket pocket.

He pulled out his phone and made the call to his investigator.

“Text me Steele’s cell,” he ordered.

The man texted.

Aaron made another call.

“Yo.”