Start With Me: A Novel (Start Again Series Book 3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  End of Book Note

  Start With Me

  A Novel By:

  J. SAMAN

  Other Books By Me:

  Start Again (Start Again #1)

  Start Over (Start Again #2)

  Forward

  Love Rewritten

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  End of Book Note

  Prologue

  Kyle

  “I was wondering when you were going to show up,” a sweet yet raspy female voice says from behind me as I step into the over-the-top mansion my brother, Ryan rented for his wedding. I spin around and come face to face with a stunning redhead.

  Wow. My eyes widen on their own volition so I can take in more of her.

  “I’m not gonna lie, Kyle my friend, we’d all but written you off for the main event.”

  “Um,” I start, blinking at the woman whom seems to know me though I’m positive I’ve never seen her before in my life. She’s definitely the sort of woman you’d remember. “I’m sorry, do we know each other?”

  “You’re Kyle,” she says to me as her discerning gaze does a full sweep of my body. “I’d know you anywhere.”

  A laugh bursts out of my chest. “Really? Because I have to be honest with you, cupcake, I have no idea who you are.”

  The girl laughs and it’s like music to my ears. Warm, smooth and sweet. Like hot fudge on ice cream. It’s one of those laughs that light up her whole face, and you can’t help but join in because it’s just that infectious. “Why, I’m the girl you’re walking down the aisle tonight.” She bats her long eyelashes at me playfully.

  “Is that right?” I move to lean into her, but before I can say anything else, I’m enveloped in a bear hug by a tall, broad man that can only be my brother.

  “You’re late,” Ryan admonishes with a half-hearted glare.

  “I’m not late,” I reply smoothly. “I’m right on time, big brother.” I smack his black tuxedo-clad back hard.

  He sighs out, looking more relaxed than I would have anticipated considering he’s about to willingly hand himself over to one woman for the rest of his life. Though I guess if you are going to do that to yourself, he picked well. Kate is awesome, and I have to admit they’re perfect together.

  “Kyle, I love you like a brother, but couldn’t you have gotten here yesterday instead of waiting until the last fucking minute?”

  I snort derisively. “I am your brother, asshole, which is why I’m the best man.” I raise my eyebrows. “And on time.”

  “You’re really not,” the redhead, who is still standing with us and smiling like she’s got a secret, says. “If my non-existent sibling showed up late to the wedding I’m never going to have, I’d be pissed.” What? “But considering the fact that you flew across the country and then drove up into the mountains, I’m thinking you should get a pass.”

  “A pass, huh?” Ryan shakes his head at her, and the two exchange something with only their eyes, before he turns back to me. “You do know that if you lived in Seattle and worked for my company, you wouldn’t have to work eighty-hour weeks? You would have already been up here. You would have been here last night, in fact. Oh, and I pay a hell of a lot better than whatever bullshit you’re making now.” Ryan pins a purple orchid onto the lapel of my tuxedo jacket like he’s my prom date, before stepping back to admire his handiwork.

  “That’s probably all true,” I bristle. “But I am not a corporate attorney.”

  He nods solemnly. “But you should be,” he says pushing the rim of his black glasses up his nose. “Way less stress than being a criminal defense attorney in New York.” I decide to let it go. Partially because we’ve had this conversation no less than a dozen times since I graduated law school and partially because . . . well, it’s his wedding day.

  “Wow, I totally can’t picture Kyle working with us,” the redhead says and my eyebrows furrow.

  “I’m sorry, how do we know each other again?”

  Ryan rolls his eyes at me, as a small smirk pulls up the corner of his lips. “Kyle, this is Katie’s maid of honor, my assistant, and all around pain in my ass, Claire Sullivan. Claire, this is–”

  “Your brother, Kyle,” she interrupts, smiling with amusement, her eyes still locked on me. “Yes, I do believe I already said I knew him. You have a picture of the two of you in your office on your bookshelf.”

  Claire. Her name bounces around my mind as I take her in. And, now that I think on it, I remember Ryan mentioning her over the years. I just never realized she was also Kate’s maid of honor. And breath-takingly gorgeous.

  “Then I guess it’s about time we met, especially since I haven’t had the pleasure before now and I’m the guy who gets to walk you down the aisle.” And then I laugh awkwardly like an insecure teenager who’s never talked to a girl he thought was pretty before. “You know what I mean,” I say and instantly regret it. Jesus, when had I become such an inarticulate bumbling idiot?

  Luke, my brother’s best friend, snorts as he walks up to us, clearly having overheard. “Way to play it cool there, guy.”

  I elbow him, which only makes him laugh more. Claire is gazing at me like she finds me adorable and I realize I like being on the receiving end of that look from her. Even if it is at my expense.

  “About time you showed up, motherfucker.” Luke laughs. Always a nice greeting from him.

  “Blow me, bitch,” I say back with an overly exaggerated smile plastered on my face.

  “Maybe later.” He winks as he nudges my side again. “We’ve got a show to get through first.” Luke stands up to his full height, his short brown hair gelled back. “You ready for this, big guy?”

  “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Ryan grouses, looking at
each of us. We just shrug in response. “I mean, I asked her to marry me. Not the other way around.”

  “You’re, right,” Claire says with a wink. “So maybe we should all be asking Kate that question? In fact, I think maybe now that the best man has arrived, we should get this party started.”

  Ryan’s smile grows. “Show time,” he booms as he and Luke begin to walk to the back of the room where a few other people seem to be lining up for the ceremony.

  “Where is Kate?” I ask, my eyes scanning the vast room decorated in twinkling lights, candles and flowers in search of my soon-to-be sister in law. The alluring fragrance of vanilla, cinnamon and pine trees assault my senses. It smells like Christmas in here, even though it’s June.

  “She thinks it’s bad luck for Ryan to see her before the ceremony,” Claire says with a shrug, like superstitions are a ridiculous practice. They probably are, but after Kate lost both her husband and toddler daughter in a car accident several years back, I know she doesn’t mess around with anything she views as a potential risk. Even on her wedding day. Especially on her wedding day.

  “Looks like you’re stuck with me tonight,” I say with a smile, liking that thought probably more than I should given our situation. I extend my elbow to her so she can loop her arm through mine, and we follow Ryan and Luke to the back of the room.

  “Better you than Teen Wolf over there.” She gives an exaggerated shudder, nodding her head in the direction of a guy wearing sunglasses, a fedora and more hair on his face and neck than I’ve ever seen in my life.

  I can’t help but laugh at that. Claire is . . . well, she’s great. Even though great seems like an absurdly lackluster word to use when it comes to this creature. She’s smart and quick-witted, with the perfect amount of devilry. And she’s fucking hot. Long, thick, glossy red hair tumbles in soft curls down her back. Her skin is like porcelain, smooth and creamy with pink-tinted cheeks. Perfect bow shaped lips are stained a deep crimson color, and when she smiles, her white teeth practically glow. But by far and away her best physical attributes—other than her crazy sexy body—are her eyes. They’re anime-size big and a deep sapphire blue. Beautiful really doesn’t do them justice.

  I lead her to the back of the line behind Luke and the girl he’s escorting. All the groomsmen are in black and the bride’s maids are in purple strapless, knee length dresses. I can feel Claire’s body heat and smell her perfume, and I think I want this girl. Actually, I might just want her a lot.

  “A grand says you forgot the rings,” Luke says with a cocky grin and I roll my eyes, smugly patting the breast pocket of my jacket.

  My empty breast pocket.

  Shit. Panic slams into my chest with the force of a wrecking ball. Where the hell are the rings? I’m positive I put them in this damn pocket when I got off the plane.

  “Ha,” Luke rumbles out. “I knew it. This is why Ryan should have named me best man.”

  “Fuck,” I hiss, and Claire is snickering, not even trying to be quiet. I turn to Luke wide eyed, before looking to Claire, hoping a distracted Ryan doesn’t notice our little conversation. He’s busy discussing something with a woman I hadn’t noticed before. “What the hell am I going to do?” My hands are flying around, digging through every pocket on my body.

  Claire just shrugs, but doesn’t seem nearly as concerned as I feel she should be. As concerned as I am. Unless . . .

  Just as music begins from the other room and right before we start to move, Ryan turns to me with a wide grin. A very knowing grin. His green eyes are sparkling with mirth.

  “Something wrong, Kyle?” he asks in that way of his.

  “You fucker,” I snap a little too loud and that woman Ryan was just talking to throws a look of disdain my way.

  Claire, Ryan, and Luke all burst out laughing, before Ryan opens his palm to reveal the two platinum bands that he must have swiped from my breast when he put that damn flower on my chest.

  Bastard.

  “Here.” He hands them to me and this time, I slip them into my pants pocket so that if one of them wants to try to snag them again, they’ll have to practically grope my dick to do so.

  “Welcome to the show, baby brother.” Ryan winks at me and I flip him off before turning to face the cream satin-covered aisle that is now splayed out in front of us.

  “Sorry,” Claire whispers, clearly not sorry at all. “But you have to admit, that was a little funny. I mean, could you imagine being the asshole who lost the rings? It would have been epic.”

  I look over to her and shake my head. “Yeah, considering I just about had a heart attack, I don’t particularly find it that funny.” Okay, in retrospect, it’s a bit funny. I swear, only Ryan and Luke throw me off my game like this.

  “Kyle Smile,” she sighs. “If we’re going to be BFFs, then you have to learn to roll with the punches a bit better.”

  “Huh?”

  “BFFs,” she repeats slowly, like I’m a small child. “Best friends forever. Didn’t you go to high school? Anyway, I’m an awesome friend, and since you’re the best man and I’m the maid of honor, it’s really the way it’s supposed to be.”

  “Friends, huh?” I raise an eyebrow to her. “A friend would have given me a heads up on the ring prank.”

  “Maybe,” she muses with a tilt of her head. “But considering it was my idea in the first place, I really couldn’t.”

  “It was your idea?” I say incredulously, my eyebrows hitting my hairline.

  She gives me a hip bump, winking one large blue eye at me. “Yeah. It was all me. But Ryan wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea.” I just scowl at her. “How’s this then, I’ll make it up to you?”

  “Oh yeah?” I smile wide, unable to stop myself. “How are you gonna do that?”

  “Well, it won’t be easy. But I’ve got all night to think of something. And unfortunately for you, it won’t be anything naughty.”

  “That is unfortunate,” I whisper as we move slowly down the aisle to the cords of Pachelbel’s Canon. “I’m not so easily won over, you know.”

  “That’s what they all say before they’re begging me to be their friend for life.”

  “Is that a dare?” I smile, pulling her into me just a bit closer before I’m forced to release her.

  “Kyle, baby cakes, it’s a promise.” I chuckle lightly, shaking my head. I kiss her hand and then let my new friend, Claire go so we can watch our loved ones get married.

  But I think she’s right. Our brief encounter has only made me want more of her. More than just tonight. And the sad reality is, she’s Ryan’s assistant. And Kate’s best friend. And I’m leaving tomorrow at first light. I can’t sleep with this woman and run. There’s just too much here for that.

  Suddenly I’m hit with an odd sense of irony. I might have just met my first real female friend. And that’s all she can ever be.

  Chapter 1

  Kyle

  Almost ten months later

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached your verdict?” Judge Harold Smith asks the foreman. This is the moment all lawyers get off on. It’s the buzz that builds in our blood, pumping out the perfect cocktail of anxiety-filled anticipation and suspense-filled adrenaline. It’s heady, and no matter how many times I’ve stood here and waited on the simple words to slip from the judge’s mouth, it never gets old.

  I draw in a deep breath through my nose, savoring the ever-present aroma of orange-scented wood cleaner, perfume and guilt. The crowded courtroom falls silent, a minor miracle considering how boisterous they’ve been since the onset of this trial.

  “We have, Your Honor,” the portly, balding foreman says with a slight waver to his thick Brooklyn accent.

  My client is standing beside me, waiting on a verdict that he seems pretty damn confident about. I’d love to think that his confidence stems from my brilliant legal prowess, but I know better and so does he. Sure, I tried the case well. I punched holes in every piece of evidence the prosecution set forth. I created enou
gh reasonable doubt in their case that he should walk away a free man.

  But that’s not what has him suppressing his grin.

  No, I’d bet my guilty-as-fuck client has used coercion and intimidation in addition to my expertise. Franco Rovelo is being tried for murder, attempted murder, extortion, attempting to bribe public officials as well as a myriad of other felonies. But because he’s the premiere mob boss of New York, he’s ensured that he’ll never spend one day in prison.

  I am still very new at this. I’ve only been practicing law for two years. But that doesn’t mean I’m not really good at my job. I am. I’m really freaking good. Which is why I was given this shot. It’s why the partners trusted me. This is a make-or-break case for my career, and I worked my ass off on it. My firm is extremely sought after, and my caseload is increasingly busy, filled with the wealthiest scum to ever crawl the earth. If I keep this up, I may even make partner in the next five years. That’s a pretty big deal.

  So, why am I not celebrating this victory? Why am I not trying as desperately as my client is to hold back my smarmy smile?

  Because this piece of shit is, as I said, guilty as fuck and I’m helping him to walk off scot-free.

  Sure, you could make the case that if not me, someone else would be defending him. You could say that everyone is entitled to a defense as guaranteed by the Constitution. That it is up to the prosecution to prove guilt, and it’s simply my job to show reasonable doubt. I don’t even have to prove innocence.

  And in this particular case, that would be impossible

  The honorable Judge Smith takes the ruling the jury has dictated, reads it over and says, “In the case of the State of New York versus Franco Rovelo, the jury unanimously finds the defendant not guilty on all charges.” The courtroom erupts into simultaneous cheers of joy and cries of outrage to the point where the judge has to bang on his gavel and yell for order just like they do on television.

  I turn to my defendant, who is hugging his wife, Gloria, and wait my turn to shake his hand. After he’s done kissing, hugging, and reassuring, he stands up to his full height—a good three inches shorter than me—and reaches out his thick, meat hook of a hand.

  “Thank you, Mr. Grant,” Franco says in his Italian accent, which is probably fake considering he was born and raised in the Bronx. “You did an excellent job. I shall refer you to every one of my associates,” he leans into whisper, “when they require your services.”