Beautifully Forgotten by L.A. Fiore Page B

my head in the freezer.” He was halfway out the door when he looked back at her and winked before disappearing down the corridor.
    Trace was talking with Rafe when Ember reappeared, and based on her lack of makeup, she really had splashed her face with water. He was about to walk over and whisper something suggestive in her ear when the doorbell sounded. He changed course and answered the door to see Lucien, carrying a present wrapped in silver with a white bow. The oddness of the picture made Trace ask almost harshly, “What the hell is that?”
    “My laundry. What the hell do you mean what’s that? It’s a hostess gift, you moron.”
    Ember appeared then, pulling the door open wider as she bestowed a smile on Lucien. Trace’s jaw clenched.
    “Lucien, hi. Please ignore this lug and come in. Can I take that?”
    “Let the lug take it.” Lucien didn’t even bother waiting for his friend’s reply before he thrust the gift into Trace’s hands. To be a dick, he reached for Ember’s hand, and brushed his lips across her knuckles before lacing her hand through the crook of his arm. He looked at Trace over Ember’s head and was happy to see that his flirting had hit its mark. A smug grin played over his mouth. Trace would get him back later for that, but it had been so worth it.
    Ember walked him to her father just as Trace appeared and deftly inserted himself between Lucien and Ember.
    “Lucien, how are you, son?”
    Lucien grinned at Shawn, ignoring Trace, and extended his hand. “I’m good, sir, and you?”
    “Wonderful.”
    Lucien watched as Trace drew Ember back against his chest and wrapped his arms around her waist. For a moment, they weren’t Trace and Ember, but him and Darcy, a vision of what could have been had their lives gone differently. It was in that moment he was able to admit to himself that he never dated seriously because none of the women in his life were Darcy. He didn’t know what to do with that knowledge, but thankfully he didn’t have to think too long on it, because Chelsea appeared and took his hand and said, “Come and see my room. I painted it purple.”

    The following morning, Trace walked up the two floors to the small apartment in the Village that he’d bought five years earlier. He rarely came here; he didn’t see a need to twist the knife in any more than necessary, but Heidi had gone too far. He had been willing to take on the responsibility he found dumped at his feet, but he wasn’t willing to do so at the cost of his wife. No fucking way.
    He unlocked the apartment and wasn’t surprised to see the ice princess lying on the sofa watching television. Her pale eyes found him and she sat up as a purely sexual smile curved her lips. Trace’s stomach turned.
    “Where’s the boy?”
    “Out,” she purred as she moved from the sofa, her dress barely covering her thighs. “Can you stay a while?” The implication was clear.
    “This shit stops now, Heidi.”
    She came to stop just in front of him, her lips pouting in an expression he supposed was meant to be a turn-on, but he felt his breakfast lurching up his throat. When her hands found his chest, he grabbed her wrists.
    “I agreed to help, but you threaten me and we’re done. The only one who stands to get hurt in all of this is the boy. I would think that as his mother, you’d be more motherly.”
    She pulled from him and hissed, “I never wanted the little beggar, but he comes from a wealthy family. You don’t toss that kind of good fortune away.”
    “You fucking bitch.”
    “I’m serious, Trace. You might not like that, or me, but you don’t have a choice. We’re family, whether you want to admit it or not.” She sat on the arm of the sofa and spread her legs, her thong barely covering her assets. “Besides, you took us on.”
    “I don’t know what it is you think you stand to gain from this, but I promise you it will not end the way you hope.”
    “Oh Trace. Don’t worry about me. As long as those