When he flung open the door, the brass knocker clanged, echoing through the night. Monica was leaning against the front fender of her car, staring up at the stars. As he marched toward her, her eyes grew wide.

“I’ve had it, do you hear me?” He made a slashing line at his neck. “Up to here.”

“Whoa,” she said. “What happened?”

Cal pointed at the house. “Jules refuses to leave. Refuses.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“She can’t stay here, Monica. My mum would be a worse influence than I am.”

“I don’t think you’re a bad influence, Cal.” That little line between her brows reappeared.

“Tell that to my father,” he ground out.

“If I ever meet him, I will. So what are you going to do?”

“I have no bloody clue.” He parked next to her, resting his ass against her car. “She can’t stay here, and I’ll throttle her if she moves into the villa.”

Monica gazed up at him with a mischievous smile. “I think I have an idea.”

Chapter 14

Allie hid her surprise well. Her gaze darted over Monica and Cal, but when it got to Jules, her placid smile slid into place. “Welcome.” Allie’s gaze swooped over Jules’s outfit, but her expression never changed. “Frances will show you to your room. No luggage?”

“I’ll bring them ’round tonight,” Cal said. “Thank you for this, Allison.”

“No problem. So glad to have you, Jules.” But as soon as Cal and Jules followed the housekeeper upstairs, Allie dropped the smile and shot Monica an annoyed glance. Then she snagged Monica’s hand and dragged her to the drawing room, making sure the double doors were shut before she let loose. “What the hell, Monica? I didn’t even know Cal had a sister. A heads-up would have been nice.”

Monica took a little too much pleasure in Allie’s irritation. It was petty, but kind of satisfying to see Allie caught unawares for a change.

Now Monica sauntered through the room, her fingertips gliding over a Grecian urn. “You like bossing people around. I thought you could put your powers to good use for a change.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Allie asked.

Monica turned on her. “I got a very hostile visit from Deena Adams today.”

“What did she want with you?”

“Excuse me? I’m the coordinator. Why wouldn’t she talk to me?”

With a sigh, Allie flopped down on the sofa. “You know what I mean. Why was she hostile? I’ll call her tomorrow and straighten it out, okay?”

Monica’d always thought the expression seeing red was just that. But as it turned out, it was a real thing¸ because all the knickknacks in the room, every stick of furniture, Allie’s face—suddenly, they were all a shade of scarlet. “Are you fucking kidding me, Allie?” Monica’s voice was quiet and perfectly calm. Completely at odds with the anger building inside her, like a dust devil swirling its way across the desert.

“What? Why are you mad at me? I said I’ll fix it.”

“I don’t need you to fix anything. I’ve done nothing but work my ass off for the last two years. I think I deserve a little respect. You don’t have to clean up after me like I’m Monica the Fuckup.”

Realization dawned in Allie’s light blue eyes as they took in Monica’s face, her hunched shoulders, her clenched fists. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What the hell is wrong with you? Deena was pissed because I called all of the media outlets, at your insistence. She thought I was going behind her back, because she already had everything scheduled. Which I believe I mentioned.”

Allie stood. “Well, it’s a misunderstanding. Why are you getting so bent out of shape?”

“Because everyone thinks I’m your little puppet. And you know what? They’re right. You’re a total control freak, Al. Why did you even give me this job? You obviously have no faith in my ability.”

Looking wary, Allie opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.

Monica folded her arms across her chest. “You’re never going to see past all the mistakes I’ve made. You’ll never see me as a responsible adult or give me any credit for turning my life around.” Monica dropped her hands, defeated. “You’ve never forgiven me for anything, have you?”

Allie jerked her head back. “Monica, that’s not true.”

“Yeah it is. You’re the one who sacrificed everything, and I’m the one who made your life hell. You gave me a job, and you and Trevor basically bought my house. When Mom got sick, you gave up everything to take care of us, and I haven’t been grateful enough. So I should just shut my goddamn mouth and take whatever scraps you decide to throw my way.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Allie was starting to get pissed off too—her eyes became cold, remote. “We gave you the job because you’re capable, and I thought you’d want to honor Mom’s memory.”

“I’m so damn tired of trying to prove myself to you, Al. You don’t think I’m capable, just the opposite. You look over my shoulder constantly. I can’t take a meeting without holding your hand. You’re always going to see me as that angry, fucked-up kid.”

“I told you the other day, Mom would be—”

“Leave her out of it.”

“I can’t leave her out of it. She’s the reason we’re doing all this. And you never talk about it,” Allie shouted. “You never even mention her! It’s like you’ve forgotten all about her.”

Monica’s brows slammed together. “Forgotten her? Because I don’t take out my grief and let you play with it?” She moved to the door and glanced back over her shoulder. “This shit at the foundation ends now. No more cc’ing you on every email. No more letting you micromanage every move I make. If you don’t think I can do this job, fire me.” She threw open the door and practically ran out of the house.

She was tired of feeling like the family failure, tired of backing down, of changing everything about herself, only to find she would never be good enough. It was exhausting.

She’d intended on saying good-bye to Cal and Jules, but she was too upset. Then she heard the door slam behind her. Assuming Allie was following her, Monica continued walking to her car.

“What is it, love? What happened?” Cal’s sandpapery voice soothed her.

Monica turned around and let her shoulders droop. “Allie and I just had a blowout. It’s been a long, shitty day.”

He padded down the stairs and loped toward her. When he stood before her, Monica leaned her head back to look up at him.

“I’d take you home and fuck it all better, but I think I should stay with Jules for a while. Your twin nephews have roped her into a game of hide-and-seek. I think she’s a bit out of her depth with them.”

Monica smiled. “They’re a handful.”

Cal placed his hands on the curve of her hips. “I don’t know what I would have done without you today. You were brilliant.”

“Thanks. I’m glad I could help.” Monica spread her hands on his upper arms, tightening them to get another feel of those biceps.

“I’m sorry our plans didn’t work out tonight, but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” He swayed toward her and lowered his head. His lips were only a whisper away. “I’ll pick you up at the office. Six thirty work for you?”

“What about Jules?”

“I think she needs a dose of Trevor’s company. She’ll appreciate me a little bit more after a few hours with my cousin.”

Monica started to laugh, but Cal captured her mouth with his own. As his lips moved over hers, he grasped her possessively. Monica’s arms found their way around his neck, where her fingers dove into the short layers of hair above his nape. His heat, his kisses, his rough touch left behind a trail of desire. Monica wanted him again. But too many obligations kept getting in the way.

Cal’s hand softened and trailed down to cup her ass. Then he lifted his head. “Damn it, why do we keep doing this out in the open? Come on, let’s go have that shag in the garden.”

Great suggestion. But his sister. Her sister. “Not practical.” Another difference between now and five years ago—back then, Monica wouldn’t let anything stand between her and what she wanted.