The Billionaire's Ex-Wife (Jameson Brothers Book 1) Read online

  She rearranged her space at the conference room table for the third time in the past twenty minutes, and politely pretended not to notice when Sam lurched out of his chair to take another turn around the room. He paced like a Siberian tiger, his blue eyes flashing, but Trinity found herself more amused than afraid of his display. It was good to see that the Ice King's patience could still steam away on occasion.

  "A half hour," Sam said. "He's a full half hour late. Make a note of it. I want William to know."

  "I'm not your personal secretary," Trinity reminded him. "Or your watch. And you're exaggerating. Eddie's only twenty minutes late."

  Sam rounded on her like she had just suggested the New York Yankees were underfunded hacks. His palms hit the table. "You see?" he demanded. "This is exactly the indulgent approach Eddie's used to receiving! The fact that he'll be forgiven is the reason he thinks it's acceptable to be late to a meeting in the first place!"

  "Why don't you just say what you mean?" Trinity's voice was all sweetness. "You don't mean 'indulgence'; you mean 'coddling bullshit'." She let the words hang between them, enjoying the way their roughness stung Sam enough to momentarily pull him out of his self-righteous rant. "If anyone's had an unfair shake in this family, it's Eddie. There's never been a moment when he's been 'indulged' or 'coddled' any more than you or William has. He's been trying for years to claw his way back into favor, and what does your father do? He passes away without letting Eddie know his sins are forgiven."

  Sam compressed his lips into a tight, bloodless line, and turned away.

  Privately, Trinity wondered if Sam ever showed this side of himself to anyone but her. How did his feelings manifest when she wasn't around? Did he give into them at all? Or did he just bottle them up and place them on whatever dusty shelf housed his compassion; his humanity; his failing marriage?

  It was also worth wondering if she might have crossed a line by mentioning his father. Even in death, the ghost of Richard Jameson ruled his family with an iron fist. Sam was more like him than he would readily admit—and the worst of it was, he knew it. He couldn't eradicate that side of himself as easily as he could a bad deal brought to the table. Trinity still found plenty of reasons to adore that side of Sam: she loved his focus, his unyielding ability to negotiate, his strength. She just wished he knew how to turn it off every once in a while.

  "Speaking of unforgivable sins," Trinity said off-hand, trying her best to segue out of rocky Jameson family territory, "you should have seen the specimen that took me out last night. Didn't hold the door for me, but he certainly fell all over himself trying to order for me. I thought we were going to get into an actual brawl when the waiter finally brought us the check—after I asked for it fifteen minutes into our date."

  Should have been five minutes max, Trinity thought sourly, although she didn't regret being able to tell the story now. She had even left out the part where her date—whose name was either Darius or Marcus, she couldn't remember which—had suggested she go to the "powder room" while he took a call from his bookie.

  She pressed her lips together and toyed with her pen as she watched Sam's face. They had always taken turns ordering for one another as a sort of game. It was something she had started when it became clear to her that Sam always ordered one thing at any given restaurant, and one thing only. She had forced him to branch out, and it had become an inside joke of theirs. The waiter always looked appalled when Trinity took the lead; Sam only ever looked amused.

  "So I'm guessing the date was a bust?"

  Trinity's hands stilled above the folder she was leafing through. Sam stood by the tall window, but for once his eyes weren't on the skyline. His gaze was trained solely on her, awaiting an answer. And her mouth was suddenly dry and unresponsive.

  God, Sam was a handsome man. He had struck her the same way yesterday. Five plus years of marriage, and all the time they had dated in college before that, and she still wasn't inoculated against it. The dark, wavy hair; the chiseled, immaculately shaved jawline; the skin as pale as a tragic Greek hero carved in alabaster. He knew how to dress himself, too, which is more than she could say for her ill-fated date in the ill-fitting slacks.

  "Well…a lot of dates are a bust when you're a thirty year old divorcée," she replied.

  "You told him you were married?"

  Before she could respond, the door to the conference room blew open, and Eddie Jameson strolled in. His eyes searched the room, passing over his brother's presence completely until he found Trinity. "Hey, Trini!" He grinned and held out his arms for a hug.

  Sam looked absolutely nothing like his brother. Eddie was just as well-manicured, but that's where any sibling similarity ended. Whereas Sam was always buttoned-up, his hair always carefully reined-in, Eddie pulled off his open collar and less expensive suit effortlessly. Eddie was like a fresh breath of perpetual summer: his auburn hair was always just the slightest bit tousled, and his skin always glowed with a healthy natural tan.

  "Eddie." Trinity laid on a little extra warmth as she rose and stepped into his offered embrace. "How are you? You look great."

  "So do you." Eddie withdrew and glanced over her shoulder. The charming lines that always fanned around his eyes when he smiled smoothed immediately. "Sam."

  "Eddie."

  Well, she didn't know what she had been expecting. She had certainly never seen Eddie greet his brother with the same enthusiasm he had just shown her—not even as a guest at their wedding.

  The two brothers squared off across the table, their postures rigid.

  "All right…welcome, everybody." Trinity cleared her throat and gestured for Eddie to take the seat beside her, and the three of them sat down. "It's good to have us all finally able to meet in the same room."

  "Is it?" Eddie leveled the question at Sam, who just stared impassively back at him.

  "You've both already received copies of the agenda for the first official sit-down," Trinity said as she passed out the schedule for good measure, "but I'd prefer it if we kept things a little more informal for today's meeting. Please consider these as guidelines more than a checklist. And if anyone has any suggestions for how to start us off, I'm all ears."

  "Well, he can start by completing the online sexual harassment course," Sam stated.

  Trinity winced. "That's…." Where did she even begin to parse the callousness of that statement? Every word of it was problematic, even down to Sam's refusal to acknowledge his brother's presence in the room. "…while I agree that will be necessary—as it is for every Jameson hire, and the last thing we want to do is make you appear to be a special exception—I was thinking something more along the lines of the in-person workshop." Trinity slid the pamphlet out of her folder and passed it to Eddie.

  "You mean there will be roleplaying?" Eddie's grin returned immediately, despite Sam's apparent best efforts to dampen it. "You can count me in for that. Sounds fun."

  "Good. But maybe don't tell the person moderating the class that you intend to enjoy it," Trinity mentioned. Eddie's enthusiasm for her ideas was a welcome change, though.

  A welcome change that didn't last. Sam leaned forward and pinned the pamphlet to the table with his fingers; Trinity thought he was going to commandeer it, but he simply left it on the table between the three of them. "The online course exists for a reason," he said. "The less room for error and embarrassment in this instance, the better. Eddie fails the course, he makes another attempt at it and no one's the wiser."

  "Almost sounds like you expect me to fail, big brother." Eddie's eyes flashed, but it wasn't with his usual good grace and humor.

  "Nobody expects you to fail, Eddie." Trinity hadn't meant to emphasize the word, but it just so happened to fall on the moment she yanked the pamphlet back from beneath Sam's uncompromising fingers. "We've had great results with the in-person training. It puts a human face on everything."

  "Sam knows all about human faces, considering he has to put his on every morning," Eddie volunteered.

 
"All right, settle down." Trinity commanded. If the two brothers were going to regress to immature sibling jibes this early in the process, then she at least needed to keep a clear head. "William approves of the in-person training, so it stays. Next item."

  "I want Eddie to sign off on a list of requirements for using company funds—specifically for client entertainment," Sam said. "And I want to start him off with the minimum allowance and see how well he does."

  Eddie threw up his hands. "An allowance? Are you kidding? You see what I have to deal with, Trini? I'm already being set up to fail. Fine. Whatever you say, Dad."

  The temperature in the room chilled to subzero. Trinity was surprised when her breath didn't fog.

  "I have an even better idea," Trinity interrupted, gracefully ignoring the annoyed look Sam shot her. "Why don't we have you complete a trial entertainment session with a client, and your budget going forward can be based on that? Getting you out there ASAP is in the company's best interest, and totally in your wheelhouse anyway, Eddie. You're good at entertaining those hard-to-impress customers." She avoided looking at Sam as she said this. No sense calling attention to the big exception.

  Eddie laughed. "I love it! It'll be just like that time in Mykonos. You remember those backpacker chicks we met at the bar?"

  Trinity shook her head and tried to suppress her smile at the memory…or at least, what memory she still had intact of that wild weekend spent abroad. "I think a few less flimsy bikini strings will go a long way in this instance."

  "Where's the entertainment in that?" Eddie argued gamely.

  "Mykonos?" Sam repeated. "The two of you went to Mykonos?"

  Oh, shit.

  Trinity kept her expression smooth. "Yes. Mykonos. It was a lovely trip."

  "You went to Mykonos with Eddie."

  "Hell yeah. It was awesome!" Eddie said. After glancing between the two of them, he quickly put up his hands. "Wait, I didn't mean it like that, Sam! It's not like…me and Trinity, we're like….

  "Siblings," Trinity provided for him. Eddie nodded his head rapidly.

  "You were supposed to go to Mykonos with me," Sam said.

  "That's right." Trinity sat back. "But once I knew you were never going to stop working long enough to take me, I made other plans."

  Both of Eddie's eyebrows ascended his forehead in sudden comprehension. "Oh…oh." He had the grace to look, if not at all repentant, then at least a little uncomfortable to be a third party to their argument. Trinity loved Eddie, but she really didn't need any more commentary from his end of the table.

  Eddie seemed to sense as much, and rose—with a totally manufactured stretch of his arms—and casually gathered his coat. "You know, this has been great. Like, really great. I'm glad I have you guys on my team. It's just that…if nobody objects, I think I'm going to take five. Head down the block and grab a coffee from the store on the corner. You want anything Sam? Trinity?" Eddie didn't wait for a response, just gave them a hearty thumbs-up and grinned. "You know what? I'll surprise you. Be right back."

  No sooner had the door to the meeting room closed behind him then Trinity was out of her chair. Sam rose, steadying himself in immediate defense of whatever assault she had planned. Normally, she would have loved the fact that she could get such a literal rise out of him, but nothing about the circumstances surrounding their forced partnership was normal. She was determined to take full advantage of Eddie being out of the room to give Sam a complete and unfiltered piece of her mind.

  "You know, I used to back down so easily to you. Not anymore," she hissed. She stepped up to him to emphasize her point, aligning her assertive posture with the crisp, perfect front of his suit. "Those days have ended. You don't get to throw your weight around this conference room on this coast. I may not have your title or your paycheck, but I better damn well have your respect."

  "You have my respect," Sam said in a low voice. "And my attention. Even if I don't have yours on either account."

  Trinity met his eyes evenly, but felt a little chastened by his words despite herself. She wondered if this was Sam's way of trying to bring up Mykonos again, but she wasn't having it. Her personal life was just that: personal.

  "The question is: what are you going to do with me, now that you have me so thoroughly at your disposal?" Sam asked her.

  "I'm going to do my job," Trinity stated. "And so are you. We're going to have to learn to compromise to get Eddie situated. The onboarding procedure at the upper levels encourages creativity, and improvisation—not only in our employees, but in the transitional process. That means we both have to be flexible, Sam."

  "I don't recall that being a problem between us in the past."

  Trinity's face heated, and she was suddenly aware of just how close they stood to one another. She would never admit it out loud, but Sam's height was impressive—especially in a confrontation. He towered over her, an unscalable fortress unto himself, but his words kindled memories of every time she had successfully brought those defenses down.

  She hadn't thought there was room left between them for him to step any closer, but he did. She couldn't afford to give ground now…but how could she successfully continue to stand up against such an imposing, conquering presence? Sam Jameson always got his way in the boardroom—the same way he did in the bedroom.

  "Your heart is racing, Trinity," Sam murmured.

  "And your suit is wrinkled, Sam."

  If he could feel how fast her heart was beating through her breastbone, then there's no way he didn't also feel the points of her nipples pressing into his chest. Her breasts ached for more than just that fleeting, accidental touch, and a sudden wave of longing hit Trinity so hard it almost rocked her forward into his arms. Almost. She wasn't sure if Sam would take her. She wasn't sure she wanted to be taken.

  That was a lie. Ever since she had first laid eyes on him yesterday, his eyes, his arms, his body, was all she could think about. If she asked him to rip her clothes off and fuck her right there in the conference room, would he? There was unmistakable movement behind the icy veil of his eyes, and she thought she had her answer.

  Sam took a deep, seemingly deliberate breath, and his chest brushed hers again. The hot gust he released from between his lips was so close it stirred her hair. Then he turned away, his shoulder grazing hers as he walked toward the door. The tension between them released, and Trinity mourned its too-sudden withdrawal.

  "You win this round," Sam conceded. "Eddie can bypass the digital course and attend whatever class the two of you want. But you haven't won the war."

  I never wanted to go to war to begin with, Trinity thought as she watched him go.

  Chapter Three

  Sam

  The bar was packed wall-to-wall ten minutes after he sat down. Sam counted himself lucky for securing a stool at all; most of New York's up-and-coming elite stood arrayed around what had once served as a dance floor.

  Funny, he thought. I don't remember it ever being this busy before. He nursed his Manhattan and gazed around in dim curiosity. This had been an old haunt of his, back when he still had a permanent office in New York.

  What he found less funny was Eddie's insistence on keeping his own schedule. Sam had agreed to meet his brother here two days ago, after the initial meeting with Trinity. He wasn't sure why Eddie wanted to speak to him alone; a part of him guessed his brother had seen reason in regard to the online sexual harassment course, but he wasn't going to hold out hope.

  Someone tapped him on the shoulder. Sam turned, his annoyance at Eddie's lateness already rising to his lips, when he was once again surprised to find Trinity standing where he had expected his younger brother to be.

  His ex-wife looked even more stunning standing in the bar than she had when they were first reunited. Her tawny hair was swept back, exposing the elegant curve of her neck, and her earrings were shimmering strands of diamond that revolved and winked every time they caught the light off one of the flickering candles. She was otherwise dressed conservatively
in a black skirt and blazer; the shirt that peeked out from beneath her ensemble appeared to be the same bold red as her lipstick, but Sam couldn't be certain of it in this low light. He craved a closer examination to be sure. When Trinity got to coordinating, she never just stopped at matching her outerwear.

  "Eddie's still in a meeting with a client. William's there." He could tell by the way her face pulled slightly inward that she hadn't liked how the order of her words came out. "He still intends to meet you here tonight. Eddie, not William. Boy, it's hard keeping track of you Jamesons now that you've finally decided to start working together."

  Sam nodded. He wasn't really listening. He was just summoning the courage to prod at her a little—maybe to ask her why she was always forced to play errand girl for his errant brother—when the crowd suddenly made a collective and unexpected surge toward the bar. Trinity gasped as she was pushed into Sam. She threw her arms out instinctively, snaking them around his neck for balance. Sam brought his shoulder up to deflect anyone else who might attempt to shove forward.

  "Shit," Trinity muttered.

  "Forgot how crowded it gets here," Sam said in the same moment. Their eyes locked, and her arms constricted almost imperceptibly—but it might have only been a muscle spasm. He shouldn't read anything into it. His track record reading emotions in others was historically poor.

  But maybe—with Trinity—it wasn't as poor as he assumed.

  Sam slid down off the stool, enjoying the familiar feel of her body pressed in close. He knew he shouldn't deliberately steal moments like this, but he couldn't bring himself to hold back. He let his hands slip down the tight, familiar curves of her ribcage and waist. Before Trinity could pull away, or open her mouth to form a protest, he lifted her up onto his vacated barstool.

  "Sam…" she murmured. She glanced around the bar, looking fervent, almost guilty. It didn't come as any surprise when the bartender immediately returned to take her order. When a woman like Trinity alighted at your establishment, you paid attention.