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  But it did. Son of a bitch, did it affect him.

  “Hey, there you are!” his date said, returning from the ladies’ room. She carried two fresh glasses of champagne. “I took the liberty of grabbing a couple of drinks. I figured you needed one.”

  “Thanks,” Jonathan said, accepting the flute from her. She peered around his head, looking on either side. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Just checking to see if John Guidry talked your ears off.”

  Jonathan’s head flew back, his deep laugh rumbling within his chest.

  Camille Wright was everything he should be looking for in a companion. An attorney herself, she also owned a string of smoothie franchises throughout the southern region of Louisiana and Mississippi. Jonathan had no doubt that she had the savviest business mind in the room. She was also funny, wicked smart, and with those mile-long legs and a face like an angel, had turned more than a few heads when they’d entered tonight’s function. She deserved his undivided attention tonight.

  The fact that she’d agreed to accompany him to this party was a testament to just how amazing and generous she was as a person. He’d dated Camille off and on for the past year, but they weren’t as close as Jonathan knew she wanted to get. Whenever it felt as if their relationship was nearing next step territory, he pulled back, usually giving her a bullshit excuse about not being ready for anything serious. Why she still answered his calls was a mystery to him.

  But she had, as much as he didn’t deserve it. He owed Camille a good time tonight.

  He would put that other woman out of his head. She’d made it more than clear three years ago that she didn’t want to be the person at his side. Why in the hell should he spend his time tonight thinking about her?

  Jonathan did his best to push all thoughts of Ivana to the rear of his mind.

  He had a better chance of convincing himself that he actually cared what John Guidry had to say, but he would at least put in the effort.

  As he danced with Camille, he wondered what could be so important that it would spur Ivana to come unannounced to his place of business after all this time. Did she think showing up after hours would give her a better chance of being alone with him? Did she anticipate that he wouldn’t want to speak to her if he had clients around? Had she wanted to avoid a scene?

  Damn, there were so many different questions and scenarios swirling through his mind. He needed answers. And he didn’t want to wait until she darkened his doorstep again to get them.

  “What’s eating at you?”

  Jonathan’s head shot up. He caught the concern in Camille’s eyes and felt even worse for the way he’d ignored her most of the night.

  “Is it the woman who came to see you right before we left?” she asked.

  Yep, wicked smart.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jonathan said.

  “Maybe you should think about taking your own advice?”

  The corner of his mouth curled up in a brief smile. “I guess I deserve that.”

  Camille dipped her head. “Do you want to share?”

  He owed her an explanation, but Jonathan knew he couldn’t do it. Not right now. He shook his head. Camille responded with an understanding nod.

  “If you want to cut out early, I’m okay with that,” she said.

  “What? No,” Jonathan protested.

  Yet, even as the words left his mouth, the idea of seeking out more information on Ivana quickened his blood.

  “You’re not as good at pretending as you think you are,” Camille said. “You’re barely paying attention to anyone here, Jonathan.” She tipped her head back toward the double doors of the Orpheum Theater. “Go on. If anyone asks, I’ll make excuses for you.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked. She looked at him with a raised brow. Jonathan placed a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you.”

  Before he could talk himself out of it, he took off for the exit, damn near sprinting to the valet. Ten minutes later he was nestled in his Tesla’s bucket seats, reminding himself that getting pulled over for speeding would only slow him down. He turned onto Claiborne Avenue, heading Uptown for Toby and Sienna’s house.

  When he pulled up to the curb, he released a sigh of relief after spotting Toby’s car in the driveway. The soft glow of a light in the front of the house shone through the sheer curtains. Jonathan hopped out of his car and hurried up the driveway to the two-story home Toby and Sienna had moved into to accompany their still growing family.

  He knocked on the door, not bothering to call, seeing as Toby hadn’t answered any of his previous text messages. A few seconds later, the door opened.

  “Hey,” Toby said, holding his new baby against his chest. “What are you doing here? I figured you’d be at Mack’s fundraiser.”

  “I just left there,” Jonathan said.

  Toby glanced at the Apple Watch on his arm. “Kinda early night for you, huh?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me Ivana was in town?”

  His best friend wasn’t known for his ability to keep a straight face. It betrayed him yet again.

  “Look man, I just found out last week.”

  “Last week? She’s been here an entire week and you didn’t think to tell me?”

  The baby in Toby’s arms started to wail. “Shh…” Toby cooed, gently bouncing on the balls of his feet to soothe the baby. He hitched his chin forward, indicating that Jonathan should step aside.

  “Can’t we go inside?” Jonathan asked.

  Toby looked over his shoulder. “I’ve got a colicky baby, and two kids and a wife with a stomach bug in there. You don’t want nothing to do with that.” Toby pulled the lightweight blanket over the baby’s head and joined Jonathan outside. “Look, Sienna told me last week that Ivana came home, but that’s all she would say. And she specifically told me not to tell anyone.”

  “By anyone I assume you mean me,” Jonathan said.

  “I didn’t ask for a list and Sienna didn’t offer one. She told me not to tell anyone so I’ve kept my mouth shut.”

  “But why is she here after three years?”

  Toby hunched his shoulders. “Sienna didn’t say. The only thing she would tell me is that Ivana was coming back to New Orleans. I don’t know why, or how long she’ll be here.” The baby started crying again.

  “Bring the baby back inside,” Jonathan told him. It wasn’t as if he’d get anything else from Toby.

  His friend nodded and turned to go back into the house, but then he spun around. “Wait. How did you find out Ivana was back?”

  “She came to see me.”

  His eyes bucked. “Ivana actually went to you? When?”

  “This evening, just before I left for Mackenna’s fundraiser. She didn’t give me any kind of head’s up or anything. She was just there, at my door, after three damn years of silence.”

  “Damn, man. That must have been a shock.”

  Understatement of the millennium.

  “Well, what did she say?” Toby asked.

  “She said ‘hello.’”

  His friend blinked. “That’s it?”

  “She also said that she needed to talk to me. But I’m not sure I care what she has to say,” Jonathan lied.

  The look Toby sent his way called him on that lie.

  “Go inside,” Jonathan told him again. “I’ll catch up with you later. I hope Sienna and the kids are okay.”

  “The way things are going, I’ll get sick as soon as they get over whatever it is that’s turned this place into Sick People Central.” Toby hitched his chin toward him. “Talk to you later.”

  Returning to his Tesla, Jonathan slid in and started it, but he didn’t move. As he sat behind the wheel of the idling car, he wondered whether or not Ivana would actually show up tomorrow. And, if she did, what he would say to her when he saw her again.

  Chapter Two

  “This is a bright young man you have working with you, Campbell.”

  “Yes, he is,” Jonathan said, straightening in
his chair. “Nick will make a helluva lawyer one day.”

  He turned to Nicolas Flores, who was so much more than just bright. The third year law student he’d been mentoring these past couple of months was one of the smartest kids Jonathan had ever met.

  Jonathan made a production of hiding behind his hand as he loudly whispered toward Nicolas, “It says something when you’re able to impress this old bastard.”

  The group of sharply dressed men at the rear table in the Port of Call restaurant all laughed. Jonathan joined in, although, if he were being honest, he’d have to admit that he hadn’t paid attention to hardly anything that had been discussed over the past half hour. He hoped Nicolas had taken good notes from today’s lunch meeting with the four top executives from Walker and Morris Realty.

  Jonathan had worked with the group back when he lived in Charleston, more than a decade ago. The real estate investment firm had plans to expand to the Southeastern Louisiana region, and Campbell & Holmes was at the top of their list when it came to local legal representation. But they had not gotten the job yet. He’d hoped today’s meeting would secure it.

  Yet, instead of paying attention to the very important conversation that had taken place during their lunch, Jonathan couldn’t keep his eyes from straying to the smart watch on his wrist every five seconds. The usual number of notifications lit up the tiny screen, except for the one he’d been anticipating the most.

  He’d asked their receptionist, LaKeisha Lawrence, to text him when Ivana showed up at the office. It wasn’t until he’d arrived this morning—a half hour earlier than usual, and with his heart racing—that he realized he hadn’t given her a time to return when he’d asked her to come by today. There was something in her demeanor yesterday that suggested that whatever she wanted to discuss with him was important. He’d figured she would be there bright and early, but it looked as if she wasn’t planning to show up at all.

  Not that it surprised him. If there was one thing Jonathan had come to expect of Ivana, it’s that she couldn’t be counted on to do what she said she would do. At least that seemed to be the case whenever it came to dealing with him.

  “Jonathan, do you take issue with having a satellite office in Baton Rouge?”

  Blinking several times, he shook his head and asked, “I’m sorry, what?”

  “You were scowling,” Solomon Morris explained. “I wondered if it had something to do with my proposal to have a presence in Baton Rouge.”

  “No, no. Of course not. Setting up an office in the state’s capital city is key,” Jonathan said.

  Shit.

  If he messed this up because he’d allowed Ivana to once again mess with his head, he would give every single person in the office permission to kick his ass. Hell, he’d kick his own ass. It pissed him off that he even allowed her to still upset him at all. He shouldn’t feel anything where she was concerned, anger included.

  He gave his head a slight shake, and returned his focus to the matter at hand. Securing the business that Walker and Morris Realty would bring to the small law practice he shared with Harrison Holmes was what mattered right now.

  Although, as Jonathan listened to his mentee, it quickly became apparent that he had nothing to worry about. He was once again blown away by the young man’s poise. Most law students would be intimidated as hell speaking to a table full of multimillionaires, men who had orchestrated some of the most lucrative real estate deals of the decade. Instead, Nick gave a clinic on the inner workings of Walker and Morris. He probably knew more about the company than their executives.

  Once lunch was over, Jonathan suggested they meet in another week, after he had time to draw up an official agreement. He didn’t give Solomon Morris or Ronald Walker an opportunity to point out that they had not agreed to hire Campbell and Holmes as their attorneys. As far as Jonathan was concerned, they had this one in the bag.

  He paid the bill and followed the older gentlemen out of the famed restaurant, walking them to a car waiting at the Esplanade Avenue entrance. The moment the black Lincoln Town Car departed the restaurant, Jonathan turned to Nicolas and clamped a hand on his shoulder.

  “You were amazing.”

  “You think so?” Nicolas asked, the first sign of the nerves he must have been feeling showing in his eyes.

  “Hell yes. You owned that lunch.”

  He’d started mentoring law students a while ago as a favor to a colleague who’d given up her practice in order to teach at Southern University Law Center. His first mentee had been an arrogant little shit who thought he knew everything about the law at twenty-three years old. After that first experience, Jonathan had decided mentoring wasn’t for him. But when Lila contacted him a few months ago, asking if he’d be willing to give it another try with a student she thought would fit well with Jonathan’s style, he’d reluctantly agreed. It was one of the best damn decisions he’d ever made. Nicolas’s smarts was only surpassed by his eagerness to learn more, all while remaining humble and genuine.

  They walked over to where he’d parked on Dauphine Street and got in the car, but instead of heading into the French Quarter, Jonathan turned up Barracks Street and made the block so he could drive down Esplanade Avenue and take a peek at The Hard Court, the upscale sports bar and nightclub he’d opened five years ago. He wanted to make sure the repair work being done today would be complete by the time the club opened for dinner at five. According to his security guard, a group of tourists riding Segways had motored past the building yesterday, and one had kicked up a stray rock directly into the center of the club’s glass doors, shattering it.

  He’d had the insurance company out first thing this morning, and had paid nearly double what the insurance covered in order to get the glass pane replaced as soon as possible. The guard had suggested sticking a piece of plywood over it, but Jonathan would be damned if he did that.

  When it came to The Hard Court, he spared no expense. His club was even more lucrative than his law practice. In fact, it was so lucrative he’d decided to open another venue across town. He was scheduled to have a sit-down with his contractor later this week to go over all the specifics of what it would cost to renovate the building he’d just bought on Julia Street, in the city’s Arts District.

  He slowed his car as they neared the club on the other side of Esplanade and heaved out a sigh of relief at the sight of the repaired door.

  “So, how do you think things went with the meeting? What’s your overall impression?” Jonathan asked Nicolas as they turned onto Royal Street, heading back to the law office.

  “It was pretty intimidating at first,” Nicolas answered.

  “You didn’t let on that you were intimidated. A good poker face is essential to being a good lawyer.”

  “Once we dove into the details, the intimidation factor wore off. I knew I could handle that part.”

  “You must have studied the prospectus I gave you from cover to cover.”

  “All week long,” Nicolas answered with a nod. “I wanted to make sure I didn’t come across as being unprepared. People tend to make that assumption.”

  Jonathan nodded his understanding. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but that never ends,” he said.

  It was a good thing Nicolas was aware of it. As a young Hispanic male, he would come up against people questioning his ability to do his job for the rest of his career.

  Jonathan could still feel the sting of being hit with that harsh reality years ago. Before earning his law degree, he’d spent several years playing point guard in the NBA. As a tall, athletic black man, no one questioned his ability on the court. He’d fit nicely into society’s expectations in that role. But once he graduated from school and starting practicing law, everything changed. No one took him seriously. Thoughts of those early days, of how hard he had to fight for respect, still pissed him off.

  “You’ll be prepared for it,” Jonathan said to Nicolas. “No one will be able to doubt your ability because you’re showing it when you do the
work. But you’re not arrogant about it either,” he pointed out. “You let your work speak for itself.”

  As he pulled into his reserved parking spot at the law practice, a discomforting throb began to beat against the walls of Jonathan’s chest. He experienced that troublesome feeling whenever he thought about Ivana’s out-of-the-blue appearance yesterday—something he’d thought about more in the last nineteen hours than he was willing to admit out loud.

  The anticipation of seeing her again today had him in knots. He still wasn’t sure how he should feel.

  No, that wasn’t true. He knew exactly how he should feel. He should be pissed. He should always be pissed when it came to Ivana Culpepper. It didn’t matter how he’d once felt about her; after the shit she’d put him through, he doubted he would ever not be angry with her.

  As much as it had upset him when she’d skipped town the week before their wedding, Jonathan would have been willing to forgive her. It would have taken some time, but he’d loved her too much not to give their relationship a fighting chance.

  It was the fact that she hadn’t even once tried to contact him that he couldn’t forgive. Not a phone call or an email—not a single fucking text message. Nothing.

  The only contact she’d made in these past three years was a message relayed to him by Sienna, letting him know that she had gone to another country to do relief work and that she was sorry. She wouldn’t tell him what country, or how long she planned to be gone, or what she was even sorry for. He’d been prepared to spend his life with her, and she’d left him, just like that.

  He was still so angry that he would be hard pressed not to lash out when he next saw her. But he wouldn’t. He would do his damnedest not to show any emotion at all.

  Of course, it might not even matter. She likely wouldn’t bother to show up at all.

  “Come to my office before you go upstairs,” Jonathan told Nicolas as they climbed the steps to the law office’s porch. “I have another case I want you to study. The owner finds himself in an interesting predicament regarding some old family land, and a long lost brother he didn’t know he had. It’s a fascinating window into Louisiana’s complicated estate law.”