Tangled (The Tangled Series)(62)

“And who might the young lady be needing to forgive?”

I raise my hand. “That would be me.”

“Played the cad, did you?”

I shrug in the affirmative. “And I’ve been trying everything I can think of since to make up for it—short of tattooing her name on my ass and streaking across Yankee Stadium.”

I was saving that for next week.

“Men often want what they can no longer have, Andrew. I like to think that you are not that type of man. So if I speak to the young lady and convince her to trust you with her heart again, what are you intendin’ to do with it?”

I look into her cerulean eyes. And speak without a trace of doubt:

“I’ll cherish it. I’ll do anything I have to to make her happy. For as long as she’ll let me.”

A slow smile spreads across Sister Beatrice’s face. “And they say miracles don’t happen anymore.” She sets her cup aside and stands up. “It appears I have the Lord’s work to do. Where are you hidin’ the dear girl? Is she expectin’ me?”

“I took the liberty of speaking with Kate’s secretary. She’s expecting someone. She just doesn’t know it’s you.”

She chuckles. “Don’t you think that’ll ruffle her feathers a bit?”

“Probably. But she won’t take it out on you. She’ll save all her feathers for me.”

We make our way to the door.

“Have you tried praying, Andrew? Prayer is a powerful thing.”

“I think your prayers are a little more powerful than mine these days.”

She smiles and touches my cheek like a mother would.

“We’re all sinners, m’boy. Some of us just enjoy it more than others.”

I laugh as I open the door.

And then the smile slides off my face as I stare at Erin’s back. She’s standing in front of my office with her arms out. Blocking it. From the woman in front of her.

Who just happens to be Delores Warren.





After Erin escorts Sister B to Kate’s office, I turn toward Delores. She’s wearing a black bustier, tight leather pants, and red stiletto heels. If this is what she wears to work, I can’t f*cking imagine what she wears in the bedroom. Must be interesting.

Steven walks up to us, his eyes on the retreating forms down the hallway.

“Was that Sister Beatrice?”

“Yep.”

He nods appreciatively. “Nice.”

See? NILF. Told you.

He smiles evilly at Delores. “Hey, Dee, did Matthew tell you about Sister B?”

“Kind of. He introduced us at church last week.”

Unlike me, Matthew still attends church regularly. He likes to keep his bases covered, just in case.

Steven smiles wider. Like a toddler who’s about to tattle on a sibling.

“Did he tell you about CPS?”

Her brow wrinkles. “What’s CPS?”

“Ask Matthew. He’ll tell you. He’s kind of an expert on it.” He nudges me with an elbow. “Alexandra and Mackenzie are coming by later. You want to join us for lunch?”

I scratch behind my ear. “Can’t. I’ve got a meeting…with a guy…about a thing.”

He’s a skywriter. He’s supposed to fly over the building at four. I just need to work out what he’s going to write. But I don’t want Delores to know. Can’t have her warning Kate ahead of time.

Steven nods. “All right. Later.”

I look Delores in the eyes. And flash her one of my classic smiles.

She just glares back.

I must be losing my touch.

“We need to talk.”

There are only a few reasons why Delores Warren would want to talk to me at this point in my life. None of them are pleasant.

I motion toward my office. “Come on in.”

This is how it must feel to invite a vampire into your house.

I sit down behind my desk. She stands.

You ever watch Animal Planet? Women are kind of like a herd of elephants. They stick together for protection. And if one senses danger? They all stampede.

I need to play this carefully.

“What can I do for you, Delores?”

“Self-castration would be great. But I’ll settle for a flying leap off a bridge. I hear the Brooklyn is nice this time of year.”

Oh yeah—this is going to be fun.

“Besides that.”

She braces her hands on my desk and leans over, like a snake getting ready to strike. “You can stop f*cking with my best friend’s head.”

Not a problem. Kate’s head isn’t the body part I’m looking to f*ck at the moment. Think I should tell her that? Probably not.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about last week, when you treated her like a used condom. And now, all of a sudden, you’re all flowers and music and love notes.”

Heard about those, did she? That’s a good sign.

“So I’m thinking you’re either a split personality—caused by the raging syphilis coursing through your bloodstream—or you’ve got an itch for a good challenge. In either case, move along, jerk-off. Kate isn’t interested.”

I’m not into challenges. When Kate blew me off that first night at REM, did I chase her? No, I went with the sure thing. The easy out.