I don’t know why I’ve chosen to tell her now, before I’m fully free of my invisible chains.

I also don’t know why I’ve chosen her and not Rhys. He’d take it all okay, I think. We’d hash out our differences about the whole letter issue and we’d resolve things enough to move forward. My life could then implode all around me and he’d help me wade through the remains.

But I don’t want to involve Rhys.

I want Cherry.

I’ve wanted her in my life since the moment she came walking down Averill’s front steps. Her glittery dress and strappy shoes turned me to mush. Her raspy voice? It slayed me. Add in those killer sapphire eyes and dark-as-midnight hair and I’m a goner, one hundred percent certifiably gone.

Except the words flowing from her mouth weren’t the ones I wanted to hear. She shut me down faster than the Flash can run around the block.

She’s had me by the balls every second since.

It’s probably a good thing she’s not aware of that fact. If she were, she’d have twisted me up way more than she already does.

I did the gentlemanly thing; I kept my distance, and I may have acted like a complete asshole toward her whenever we were in the same vicinity. It was the only thing I could think to do to keep her at arm’s length.

In Cancun was when it all changed. We went out dancing one night—the night I told her about keeping the letters from reaching Rhys. It was eating me alive during the whole trip, and then during the night spent out, my guard slipped and I was pissed at myself. I told her everything. To keep myself from kissing her, I told her one of my truths. Another reason I spilled was because the generous gift from Rhys had my guilt near an all-time high.

Now, I’m about to tell her some world-altering shit.

I’m about to tell her my whole life has been a lie, a complete and utter lie.

Yeah, I’m Brant Ashley—there’s no denying my name—but I’m not the Brant Ashley everyone thinks I am. They all think I’m an accountant for a huge dot-com company. It’s been easy to tell them the lie. I’m an accountant all right, but certainly not for a damn dot-com company.

I do keep the books. I audit, I guess you could say. You could also say I launder money.

I launder money for Vincent Martinelli, and his accountant—me—has been known to order the offing of an associate or ten.

Why did you think it was incredibly easy for Rhys to get a ‘job’ with Martinelli? Or for us to become friends with Vinny Jr. in the first place? Yeah, because I’ve been connected to the Martinelli family since the day I left California. Scratch that, since the day I was born.

How, you may ask?

The dad who raised me isn’t my dad at all. My mother slept with someone else a few weeks before she met the man who’s always claimed to be my father.

Taking a deep breath, I place my freshly brewed mug of coffee on the table and begin to pace the kitchen.

Back and forth.

Back. And. Forth.

It’s now or never.

“I’m not who you think I am, Cherry.” Taking three more steps toward the sink, I place my hands on the counter, facing away from her before I continue. “My full name is Brant Vincent Ashley-Martinelli.”

She gasps when she hears my full name. I have to give her credit though—she stays completely silent otherwise.

“For me to best explain, I guess I should start at the beginning.” Taking another deep breath, I stare listlessly out the small kitchen window. “When I turned eighteen, I received a certified letter. To say the contents forever transformed my life is an understatement. It contained my birth certificate with my full name, as well as a photo of the man claiming to be my biological father. The letter asked me to meet with Vincent on the day I graduated from college. Basically, I had four years to make up my mind on if I wanted to meet the man who was nothing more than a sperm donor to me. I didn’t have to think twice about any of it—I burned the letter, chucked it in the fireplace, and never looked back.

“A few months later, I’m sitting in my boring economics class when the professor asks to see me after class. Thinking nothing of it, I stayed, figuring maybe it was about the last assignment I turned in. He handed me another envelope, and this time the contents included keys to a brand-new truck. It was my high school graduation-slash-birthday gift, several months late. All I had to do was stop by the dealership to pick it up, scot-free. It was then I tried to find out more about who Vincent Martinelli was. He was a businessman, but not one I’d want to cross—his dealings weren’t completely legal, from what I managed to learn, and he was most definitely not someone I wanted to meet. Again, I trashed the letter asking me to meet with him after I finished college. Not knowing what to do with the truck, I picked it up and kept it.

“Keeping the truck was one of the stupidest mistakes I’ve ever made. Even if I didn’t want to meet the man who helped bring me into this world, keeping the truck sealed the deal. On the eve of my graduation, a man was waiting for me when I returned home from a night out celebrating with friends. He made me an offer: work for him in the family business for ten years and he’d disappear from my life forever. I’d never have to tell the father I’ve always known that I don’t share his blood. Vincent would keep the secret if I gave him ten years of my life, doing whatever he deemed necessary.

“Loving my real dad with my whole heart, the answer was easy—I’d do it. Ten years was nothing, and I believed I wouldn’t be doing anything too awful. He was a businessman, after all.” Turning away from the window, I look up and see her staring blankly at me. She’s hearing everything I’m saying, but I know she’s in shock. Sitting down, I place my hand softly on her shoulder. “I was wrong, Cherry, so fucking wrong. What I didn’t know about him was he is a mob boss. I knew he wasn’t an honest man, but I never pegged him for a mobster. Over the last ten years, I’ve ended up learning his whole business inside and out. I’m his accountant, his bookkeeper, numbers guy, whatever you want to call me. I’ve ‘taken care’ of people for him—well, I’ve issued the orders. I may not have pulled the trigger myself, but I’ve placed the hits. I’ve made mistake after mistake after mistake.”

Pausing, I move my hand from her shoulder and place it upon her face, turning her gaze toward me. “My ten years is up in two months, and I want you to be a part of my future.”

Holy. Shitballs.

Holy motherfuckin’ shitballs.

For me to say my earth has been shaken to its core would be an understatement.

Brant is Martinelli’s son.

My mind can’t seem to wrap around this fact. The man who—let’s face it—has left me off balance since I first laid eyes on him just told me his deepest, darkest secret. He’s a mobster’s son, and not only is he his son, he works for him. He claims he’s been working for him to keep the man he calls Dad in the dark about his whole not sharing blood with him issue. Brant’s biological dad is Martinelli. Mind-blown doesn’t cover what I’m feeling.

Talk about having family issues.

It almost makes me happy what’s left of mine lives far away.

What’s left of mine is an old perverted uncle and one slightly off-her-rocker cousin. Come to think of it, I am thankful they live far away.

My first instinct is to call Averill and vent to her, but I can’t, at least not at the moment while a broken-down man sits in my kitchen, staring me in the eyes.

Shit.

What do you say to someone who’s revealed a whopper to end all whoppers? I mean, the shit-stirrer of all shit-stirrers?

“Brant?”

“Yeah?”

“All I can offer for now is my friendship. In fact, friends may be all I can ever offer you. I need to know you will be okay with only being my friend.” After what he’s told me, I should be able to open up my vein and let it bleed, but I can’t. It’s too much for me to handle at the moment.

“For now—I’ll accept it for now. The reason I can say this is because I can see the secrets hidden behind your sapphire depths. You’re hurting the same as I am. The difference is, I’m ready to deal with all of my stuff and grab hold of the future. In time, I hope you will be, too.”

With him telling me these secrets, I know he’s someone I’ll be able to tell about Mick. I’ve never truly opened up about what happened between us before, have never spoken the horrors he did to me out loud and given them a voice. If it remains inside my head, it’s almost like that part of my life didn’t happen. If only the nightmares would go away. If those bitches would disappear, I could fully forget about my abusive past. If I could, maybe…maybe Brant would stand a chance.

Placing my hand on top of his where it still cups my cheek, I sigh deeply. It’s the only straight answer I can give him for now. He may not like it, but it’s the only one he gets.

“You’ll tell me when you’re ready, Cherry, and I’ll be here waiting. I’m not going anywhere. Besides, we have a deal to keep—you, me, the city. How about we make some plans for later this week and you can go back to bed?”

“Now that sounds like something I can handle,” I reply, a full smirk spreading wide across my face.

Bring it on, Ace.

* * *

Hours later, as I’m opening today’s deliveries, I find myself smiling while thinking about my plans with Brant for tomorrow morning. If you would’ve asked me yesterday if I saw myself ever having plans to hang out with Brant one on one, I’d have laughed in your face and walked away.

We may get along now, but this is still new. It’s weird, and more than slightly peculiar. Calling a ceasefire feels somewhat out of character for both of us. We’ve never truly gotten along, which is both of our fault. He claims he’s always been fighting his attraction toward me. Me? I’ve been fighting my lack of sound judgment when it comes to men. I’ve never witnessed him be outright mean to a woman, but I’ve also never seen him actually be with a woman. To me it seems like he’s always avoided their company.

He didn’t bring a date to Rhys and Averill’s wedding. He’s always been foul-mouthed about his conquests, but I’ve never observed him with one of said conquests.

Does Brant date?

The thought has never crossed my mind. He brags about it to Rhys; I’ve heard him—we’ve all heard him—but like I said, I’ve never seen him with anyone. Is it because of me? No, it can’t be. The thought alone is ludicrous…right?

Shaking my head, I brush the idea from my mind and think back to what we have planned for tomorrow—I’m taking him to the San Diego Zoo.

Yes, the zoo. I absolutely love it there. In fact, I spend many of my days off roaming around the zoo or simply sitting near the pandas, reading whatever book I’m currently obsessing over. The zoo’s pandas—Goa Goa, Bai Yun, and Xiao Liwu—bring me peace almost on a daily basis. Most people who live where I do would choose to go to the beach, but not me—I’m a zoo girl. Bring on the chaos of the children running amuck and the animals going insane. To me, it’s complete bliss. Something about all the wildness around me puts me at ease.

The days I’m not able to go? I’ll admit to leaving the live panda cam up and streaming on my laptop. I’m not ashamed. Those black and white balls of fluff bring me joy, and in my world, joy is hard to find, so I take it where it comes. These days, my life is filled with sunshine and rainbows. Brant and his storm clouds can stay firmly in the friend corner.

His kisses alone may have nearly brought me to orgasm, but us being friends is the appropriate thing to do. No one has this knowledge but me, and it’s going to stay with me alone. The nickname can stay; it’s the only thing I’ll allow myself to keep. Friends and a nickname—there’s no harm in that, right?

* * *

This time when Brant knocks on my door, I’m ready for him. The threats of the morning before fade away—I no longer want to hack his manhood off for ringing my doorbell and waking me. His family jewels are safe, at least for today.

Answering the door, I’m surprised to see his hands full of coffee and bagged pastries again. If this is how he’s going to meet me each time we make plans, I could get used to it. Coffee is my one true vice—well, maybe not my only one, but it’s damn near close. Saying it’s the only one I allow myself daily is the accurate way to describe it.

“I come bringing gifts again this morning—coffee, the way you like it, and more brownies,” he says while handing me the bag and walking past me into my house. Who invited him inside?

“Um…I thought we’d go ahead and leave if it’s okay? The zoo gets insanely busy around the time school gets out. Oh, who am I kidding? It’s busy all day with field trips and vacationers, but I love the chaos. If we make it before my friend Louie is off shift, you can meet Goa Goa, and trust me, you want to meet Goa Goa.” I’m rambling, and I don’t know why I’m rambling. Could I actually be nervous to spend alone time with him? We spent some time just the two of us in Cancun a few months back, so it’s not totally new. I mean, it is, but it isn’t…now I’m not making sense. My thoughts seem to be coming out jumbled.

“Sure, okay, we can leave now. I’m sure there are napkins in with the brownies. From the sound of it, I think you’ve had enough coffee, which is beneficial to me because it means I can drink yours.”

The sound coming from my mouth can only be described as a growl. Come to think of it, maybe I will cut off his manhood. He brings me coffee only to take it away? Oh, hell no.

“If you do, I’ll forever think of you as a thief.” A nut-less thief, I silently add.

“Easy, Cherry. I’ll let you keep your coffee.” He extends the cup in his right hand to me, and I grab the coffee faster than he can snap out his next thought. I am the Flash, Ace. “Now tell me who Gow Gow is and why I want to meet them.”

“Him—it’s a him, and it’s Goa with an A, not a W,” I correct.

“Okay, now tell me who he is,” he says as we proceed down the steps toward his rental, which is parked along the curb in front of my house.

“He’s a giant panda, one of three living at the zoo. He was brought here from China in 2003, and before then he was living at a sanctuary there pretty much since he was born. He actually was born in the wild and found injured when he was around a year old, treated, and released, but sadly, he was brought back into the facility because he wasn’t adapting to the wild. The three years he had spent in captivity must’ve been too much. He’s slightly older now, and I never get to see him on the cams throughout the day. On the days when Louie is working, he lets me sneak back and watch Goa Goa. If I’m super lucky, he lets me give him his leaf-eater biscuits.”

He takes my hand and helps me up and into the truck. Why he rented a truck for while he’s here, I have no idea. In fact, I have no clue why he’s driving today instead of me.

“Why are you driving? If I’m showing you around, wouldn’t it make more sense for me to drive?” I ask.

“Because we’re going to the zoo and I happen to know how to get there. Finish telling me about Goa Goa—why’s he away from the public eye? When you feed him these biscuits, do you interact with him, as in touching him?”

“If I told you all of my secrets, I’d have to kill you,” I reply while bashfully winking at him. Oh, shit, did I actually just wink at him? Who am I—Rhys? “Um, forget I winked at you. I didn’t mean it. Carry on, my wayward son.” Shit, now I’m quoting song lyrics, and all because I’m suddenly thinking about Sam Winchester. He seems to always get flak from Supernatural fans. I mean, I’m absolutely a team Sam girl—I’d totally pick him over his brother, Dean. Honestly, in real life I’d pick Jared over Jensen.

“Ace?”

“Yeah?”

“Make the thoughts running wild in my brain shut the fuck up, please.” There, I added a please; I’m at least attempting to be all nice and shit.

“I’ve been trying to keep you on the subject—you’re the one veering off. That said, why would I change course when I think it’s cute?”

Cute? What am I, a zoo attraction? I’m a rambling idiot—me, Tessa Annabelle, who’s always teased Averill when she gets nervous and rambles on about stupid shit. If she could hear me now, she’d be roaring with laughter.

“I’m glad you find my nervousness amusing,” I reply, my voice coming out much harsher than I intended. Great, now I’m reprimanding him. He’s going to think I’m even more insane than I am. Do you care? Actually, I don’t. When it comes down to it, I don’t. He’s nothing more than a friend anyway, so what does it matter in the grand scheme of things? It doesn’t.

“Why are you nervous?” His rich baritone breaks through my thoughts.

“I’m not.” Lie.

“You said you were,” he counters.

“I did?”

“Yes, less than a minute ago.”

“Huh. It must’ve been a lie, because I’m not nervous.” Liar. “I’m scatterbrained this morning, but not nervous. Maybe I meant to say it.” Smooth, real smooth. “Anyhow, back to Goa Goa—due to his age, his health is declining, and he doesn’t spend much time out and about. Pandas are, for the most part, solitary animals. The only time they spend together is to mate, and otherwise, they’re apart. The exception to the rule is a mama and her cub. Even in captivity, they’re reasonably solitary, choosing to spend most of their time sleeping in the trees. And yes, I’ve touched him, and he’s touched me. He’s a gentle bear. I trust him.” More than I trust any man.

“Hopefully, we get there before Louie is off from his shift, but as a special VIP or whatever, are you allowed special access to some of the animals anyway?”

It’s like he’s studied the zoo’s website; otherwise how else would he know what privileges I have and what I wouldn’t have access to?

“Wait a minute…did I tell you I’m a donor?”

“Yeah, yesterday morning as we were making the plans for today. How would I know if you hadn’t told me?”

“I don’t recall telling you…it must’ve slipped my mind. I’m blaming it on the early-as-hell wake-up call—you know, the one where I threatened to unman you for breaking the cardinal Tessa rule of never waking me before 10 a.m. Oh, I know!” I exclaim fairly loudly. In fact, he puts his hand over the ear closest to me. “Sorry.” In a quieter tone, I continue on, “Maybe when we leave the zoo we should stop by my friend’s tattoo shop. He’d have no problem tatting the reminder somewhere on you…maybe your wrist.” Rubbing my hands together, I’m now on a new mission: get Brant a strange-as-fuck tattoo. “I mean, maybe not all of the words, but it could be a couple of cherries next to an antique clock striking 10 a.m.. It’s perfect! What do you say, Ace?”

“Jesus, you certainly are scatterbrained this morning. How many cups of coffee did you have before I arrived?” His tone would appear to anyone else who didn’t know him to be in jest, but it’s not, at least not to me. To me, it feels like he’s judging me for my hyperactive brain. The thing is, he’s known me long enough to know about my condition. Today has started out as a disaster, and I’m hoping spending some time with my giant panda pals will put me more at ease. If not, I’m thoroughly fucked. Brant shared his deepest, darkest, most earth-shattering secret with me, so you’d think I could tell him this tiny one about me.

I’m an adult suffering from ADHD.

And to make matters worse, I’m embarrassed about every single aspect of it. Trust me, I know I shouldn’t be. There are plenty of adults who suffer the same as I do. It’s never been a huge issue for me when it comes to the time I spend with Averill, Rhys, or Brant. Averill does know, but she’s the only one. Rhys has never experienced hyper Tessa, but it looks like Brant has been with her all morning already and wasn’t warned ahead of time.

Shit.

“None. The cup you handed me is my first, and I’ve barely taken two sips. I feel like I should explain a few things to you, only because you’re witnessing them at this moment. Av knows, but she used to work with me, therefore she needed to know. You? You’ve never needed to know before now.” Taking a deep breath in, I sigh as I let it all out. “I suffer from adult ADHD. It makes my mind jump from one subject to another to another. I can start off a sentence talking about pandas and end the same sentence by bringing up tattoos.”

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t turn to glance at me. In fact, he keeps his eyes on the road and concentrates on nothing but the road for the rest of the ride to the damn zoo. Not one stupid word is uttered until we arrive.

“Do you have a special area for parking or do I use the general parking?”

What? He broke the silence to ask about parking?

We’re stuck in this awkward silence limbo, and he breaks it by asking where to park.

“I’ll tell you where to park it,” I mumble under my breath. “Up your tight-as-hell ass.”

“I don’t think this F250 would fit up there, but hey, you never know. Now tell me where to actually park.”

“You can drop me off at the gate and go park over in the paid parking area. Since you insisted on driving, we don’t have my parking pass. I’ll meet you inside because now, after thinking about it, I remember my membership pass only includes one additional guest per year”—lie, lie, lie—“and since Av already used it, you’ll have to pay your way today. Sorry.”

Shrugging my shoulders, I slide down from his passenger seat and quickly make my way over to the donor entrance. I’m inside and on my way over to see Goa Goa before Brant has succeeded in parking his massive truck. What an asshole. I tell him one of my secrets and he doesn’t offer one word of comfort or anything. I’d have been cool if he’d said, How awful, having something like ADHD must suck for you, but nope, nothing. Radio silence.

The jerk.

Who cares if I’m lying about his fee to get into the zoo? He hurt my feelings, and he can shell out the hundred dollars for the day, plus the extra thirty or whatever it is now for parking, and I’ll smile the whole time he does it. The extra ten percent I save at the food carts? Yeah, totes not happening today. Ignore my ADHD issue by acting like an ass and see what it costs you—literally.