A Million Tiny Pieces (7 page)

“Phoenix!
Can you tell us more about the lawsuit with Damien Landry? Rumor is that you’re
meeting with him next week.”

Phoenix
pretended not to be surprised by the statement. He dared a glance over at Tarik,
who gave a very subtle nod, confirming the rumor. “I won’t have anything to say
until after that meeting takes place.”

“Do
you plan to settle with Landry?”

“I
have no comment at this time,” Phoenix stated. He didn’t want to go into the
details of the absurd accusation that Damien Landry had heaped on him shortly
after Phoenix’s father had passed away. According to Landry, Sid Pierce had
been negotiating the sale of the team to him, yet no one else was aware of the
transaction. No one.

Which
made Phoenix believe it was all a bunch of bullshit made up by a man who was
looking for attention. Not that he would tell the press that.

“Mr.
Pierce will hold another news conference in the future, once he has more
details,” Tarik interjected before urging Phoenix out of the room.

Phoenix
adjusted his suit coat and followed, thanking the press for coming.

A
few minutes later, once they were safely ensconced in the limo, Phoenix let out
a ragged breath. “I still don’t know how my father did this.”

“He
made it look easy,” Tarik confirmed, staring at him as the limo pulled into
traffic.

“That
he did.” Pinning Tarik with a glare, Phoenix followed with, “Why didn’t anyone
tell me I’m meeting with Landry?”

“Just
came up. He’s a persistent little fucker,” Tarik snarled. “He wants a
one-on-one with you.”

“Who
thought that would be a good idea?” Phoenix questioned.

“Phil.”

Phoenix
made a mental note to have a conversation with his lawyer. Why he’d want to
force Phoenix to talk to Damien Landry, he didn’t know. As far as he was
concerned, the guy needed to go away. Whatever nonsense he’d conjured up in his
head about Sid selling the team to him was exactly that … nonsense. “When’s this
meeting?”

“Monday.”

Phoenix
stared out the window as the limo weaved its way through the parking lot.

“There’s
something else you should know,” Tarik said, drawing Phoenix’s attention toward
him.

Without
asking, Phoenix waited for him to continue.

“Mia
Cantrell. Your mystery woman from the elevator…”

Phoenix
cocked an eyebrow. “What about her?”

“She’s
Damien’s ex-wife.”

“Are
you shitting me?” Phoenix asked, sitting up straight and staring at Tarik.

“Not
at all.”

“Motherfucker.”

“Exactly.
What are the odds that you’ve got a hard-on for Landry’s ex?”

That
was a damn good question. Was it a coincidence that she’d crossed Phoenix’s
path? “How long have they been divorced?”

“Officially
only a few months. She asked for the divorce nine months ago.”

“Nine
months?” Surely that couldn’t be a coincidence. That was about the time Landry
had brought a lawsuit against him.

“If
it’s any consolation,” Tarik said quietly, “I don’t think she has a clue what
Landry’s up to. According to what I found out, she left him because he cheated
on her. She moved in with her mother temporarily and filed for divorce. Once
that was done, she bought the condo and started school.”

Phoenix
nodded. He didn’t know what to say to that. He knew it was a damn good reason
for him to get the woman out of his head. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t stop
thinking about her. He didn’t know her, so there would be no loss on his part
if he pretended she didn’t exist.

Too
bad he didn’t want to go that route.

FRIDAY
NIGHT — ODDLY dubbed date night by Alex — came far faster than Mia thought it
would. Since she went to school on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday, she had
been lucky enough to have the entire day to lounge around, which she had.

She’d
spent the morning in the coffee shop, studying for a test that was coming up
the following week. Then she had walked a few blocks over and gotten a manicure
and pedicure, something she’d denied herself for the last few months in an
attempt to save money after spending an enormous chunk of change purchasing the
condo. Frugal had seriously become her middle name.

When
she got back to her building, Mia was quite relaxed and looking forward to
spending a night out with Alex and Johnathan. The three of them hadn’t been out
together since before Mia’s divorce, although she’d gone to their place several
times, and she generally talked to Alex at least once a day on the phone.

Alex
was worried about her, she had said when they’d spoken on the phone earlier
that morning. Apparently, Damien had become exaggerated in some of his media
claims after last night’s hockey game, and for whatever reason, he’d dragged
her name into it, something he’d done for a while now. Mia wasn’t sure why he’d
mentioned her. Based on what Alex had told her, it didn’t make any sense. But
Damien was Damien, and she figured he was all about gaining attention,
something that was relatively easy for him.

Mia
had told her friend that there wasn’t anything to worry about. Mia was actually
happier now than she had been in months, maybe even years, and she really
didn’t give a shit what Damien had to say about her. On the days she went to
school, she focused only on that. On the days she had off, she studied. But no
matter what, every day that week had been a better day than those she’d spent
married to Damien. At least over the course of the last year of their marriage.

She
was quite content with things exactly the way they were now.

Granted,
she’d thought about the guy from the coffee shop — Hot Hoodie Guy, aka Coach —
every single one of those days, too. The same guy she’d practically run over in
the lobby when she’d stepped off the elevator. She refused to think about the
other guys who’d caught her attention, hoping that by limiting her options,
she’d eventually let go of the fantasies altogether.

Considering
she wasn’t interested in a relationship, Mia knew that nothing would come of
her errant thoughts, so from time to time, she allowed them to run free. Not
too much that she’d get carried away, but enough to give her mind a little
break from her schoolwork.

Now,
as she ran her curling iron through her hair, touching up the few pieces that
hung down from the twist she’d fixed on top of her head, Mia watched herself in
her bathroom mirror. She certainly wasn’t thinking about Hot Hoodie Guy now.
She was too busy wondering whether or not she was going to run into Damien
tonight.

The
date Alex had insisted Mia go on with her and her husband was actually a
charity event that had been planned a full year in advance. Mia had RSVP’d her
attendance long before she’d asked Damien for a divorce, and when Alex had
mentioned it earlier in the week, she’d realized she really did want to go.
Just because she’d given up that life didn’t mean that she had to give up
everything that was important to her. So, Mia had agreed to go with Alex.

And
now she was getting ready.

The
black, single-shoulder, A-line chiffon gown she was going to wear was lying on
her bed, her heels on the floor, and the jewelry that would adorn her ears and
neck sitting on the bathroom counter.
She’d bought the dress online, having
fallen in love with it instantly. It was both sexy and elegant, which was
exactly what she was going for. After wearing jeans and sweatshirts all week,
Mia was kind of looking forward to dressing up.

She
spent more time than usual on her makeup, figuring she’d go all out. She
lathered one of her favorite perfumed lotions on her skin and pulled on her
dress. The shoes could wait. They’d be killing her feet by the time she made it
to the hotel where the function was being held, so she didn’t feel the need to
torture herself any longer than necessary.

Once
she was ready, Mia stood in front of the full-length mirror, studying herself
for a bit. She didn’t look much different than she had nearly a year ago when
she’d attended the last charity function, that time on Damien’s arm. She
might’ve gained a couple of pounds since then, although if you asked her
mother, Clarice would say that was a good thing. However, Mia had made a
resolution for the New Year to start going to the gym, but only so she could
afford to add a little fat to her freezer content. Damien had always given her
a hard time about not being skinny enough — whatever that meant — and since she
hadn’t cared to rock the boat, she had found herself doing as she was told,
eating bland foods, doing yoga although she detested it, and otherwise making
herself miserable to fit into a mold Damien had expected her to fit in.

Needless
to say, she felt better these days. Not only because she wasn’t twisting
herself into a pretzel or on some strict diet of fruits and vegetables, lean
meats, and no carbs. It was a combination of things.

Her
cell phone rang, ending her self-inspection. Grabbing her shoes, Mia ran to the
kitchen, snatching it up from the bar before it went to voice mail.

“Hey,”
Mia greeted, knowing that the only person who would be calling her was the
woman who was coming to pick her up in a few short minutes.

“We’ll
be there in five. The limo will be out front. Want us to come up?”

“No,
that’s all right. I’ll head down now. See you in a few,” Mia told Alex.

After
tossing her phone into her clutch alongside her credit card, driver’s license,
and lip gloss, Mia grabbed her wrap and her shoes and headed for the door. She
waited until she was at her front door before slipping the
four-and-a-half-inch, strappy silver Manolo Blahniks on her feet and then
smoothing her gown with her hands. This would have to do.

Mia
locked the door to her condo and made her way to the elevator, pressing the
button to call it to her floor. While she fixed the wrap over her bare
shoulders, she noticed the only elevator that was working was currently stopped
at the penthouse, and she was momentarily tempted to run back into her condo
and let it go by.

Or
maybe she could take the stairs.

Her
eyes darted back and forth between the elevator doors and her front door. She
still had time. She spared another glance at the numbers above the door. Crap.
It was on eighteen.

No
time now.

Maybe,
if she were lucky, it would be empty.

The
muffled ding echoed in the hallway, signaling the arrival, and Mia held her
breath as the doors slowly opened.

Nope.
Not empty.

Oh.

Crap.

Just
as she’d feared, there in front of her was the same handsome, black-haired,
suit-wearing guy from the other day. Only this time he wasn’t wearing an
expensive suit. He was wearing a freaking tuxedo. Armani, if she wasn’t
mistaken. And Mia was pretty sure it wasn’t a rental.

He
wasn’t alone, either.

Clearly,
one sexy man wasn’t enough for the universe’s idea of a cruel joke, because
standing next to him was Tall, Dark, and Intimidating wearing an equally
impressive tuxedo — Calvin Klein, she guessed — and looking far too sexy for
his own good.
They were both watching her closely, and Mia took a deep breath, willing her
feet forward. Apparently they had plans for Friday night, as well.

She
had to pay careful attention to walking because she nearly tripped, her eyes
trailing over their impressive forms one at a time. One thing she noticed
instantly was that they took up a drastic amount of real estate in the small
elevator. Both were tall, probably over six feet, and broad. Green Eyes had wide
shoulders, a trim waist, and long legs. In a word, he was delicious. He took up
a lot of space, but it wasn’t only physical. The man exuded confidence like no
one she’d ever met. And dressed like that… Mia found it difficult to look away.

Then,
of course, there was the other guy. Golden Eyes was even bigger than the other,
both in width and height. His torso appeared long, his hips narrow, his feet
big. Where the other man had a confident air, this one gave off a no-nonsense
vibe. But he looked equally scrumptious in the well-cut tux.

Just
clothes, she told herself. Clothes did not make a man. As she had learned the
hard way with Damien.

Mia
stepped onto the elevator and offered both men a small smile, avoiding their
gazes as she turned and faced the elevator doors, clinging to the wrap hugging
her shoulders and holding her clutch in front of her.
They smelled
good. The rich, spicy scent of cologne wafted up her nose, and she inhaled
deeply, unable to resist. She wasn’t sure what expensive brand it was, or which
of them wore it, but she liked it. A lot.

“Guilty,
by Gucci,” the sexy-voiced, green-eyed man said.

“What?”
Mia asked, glancing at him over her shoulder.

“My
cologne.”

Crap.
Was he a mind reader? Or had she said that out loud? God, she hoped not.

She
blushed, her face heating as she spared him a sideways look, meeting his
glistening green eyes. Mia suddenly felt like a science experiment due to the
way he was studying her, the way his penetrating gaze raked over her from head
to toe. Slowly.

“You
look beautiful,” he said, and Mia nearly choked on her tongue.

Somehow
she found her manners and thanked him for the compliment before facing the
doors once more, doing her best not to look at the numbers counting down on the
elevator. She needed it to get to the bottom floor. Stat.

Finally,
the car came to a jerky stop, and Mia reached forward to keep from stumbling,
but not before strong hands were on her hips. Her entire body went hot
instantly as she realized Golden Eyes was touching her.

“Careful,”
he said in that rough, gravel tone she’d heard the other day.

When
the doors opened, Golden Eyes held out his arm as though keeping the doors
open. She smiled again and stepped out. Looking back wasn’t an option because
she definitely didn’t want either man to see her interest. She didn’t have time
for fancy suit-wearing, handsome, green-
or
golden-eyed,
penthouse-living strangers.

And
maybe if she kept that mantra on repeat in her head, she’d eventually realize
how very true it was, because her hormones certainly hadn’t gotten with the
program. Her skin tingled, her insides churning, and there was an unsettling
pulse between her thighs. One that had been dormant for far too long.

Seeing
the limousine sitting out front was a relief. It gave her something to focus
on. That and the sound of her heels against the travertine floor. Anything to
avoid looking back over her shoulder at the men who were still walking
relatively close to her. They were apparently both going to the same place she
was. The front doors.

George
wasn’t on duty tonight, but another kind gentleman who Mia had only seen once
opened the door for her. After she had passed through, she heard him greet the
men behind her. She didn’t catch what their names were, doing her best to put
as much distance between herself and them as quickly as possible.

Not
that she cared what their names were, anyway.

When
she stepped outside, the chill of the January evening hit her. There was the
scent of rain in the air, and she instinctively looked up, noticing the clouds
forming in the already darkening night sky. Maybe it would hold off until after
she got home tonight. Then she’d welcome the rain. Maybe they’d even get lucky
enough for snow.

Johnathan
stood beside the limo door, smiling at her as she approached. He kissed her on
the cheek and whispered that she looked stunning. It wasn’t lost on her that
his compliment in no way reflected that of the stranger’s in the elevator.
Johnathan’s was a platonic, almost brotherly approval, while the green-eyed
stranger’s voice had held a hint of something else. Something … that Mia was
not going to think about tonight.

“Hey,”
Alex greeted when Mia slid into the seat, moving to the opposite side so that
Johnathan could sit by his wife.

“Wow.
Love the dress,” Mia told Alex, admiring her plum-colored strapless gown that
accentuated her full breasts, long, silky black hair, and her light gray eyes.

“This
old thing?” Alex teased, looking down at her breasts and adjusting them.

Mia
laughed. That was one of the many things she loved about Alex. She wasn’t one
of those snooty, obnoxious rich bitches that they, unfortunately, had to spend
so much time with. Well, technically, Mia no longer had to congregate with
them. The thought gave her pause.

This
was the first public event that she would attend since Damien and she had
split. Which meant she’d probably receive a flurry of pitied glances from those
who believed Mia was the one who’d received the boot.