I shifted in my seat. Fuck, maybe I’d blown Caitlyn off too early. I could call her now. Meet up at a hotel on the East Side. Anything to scratch that goddamn itch.
And yet, I also knew that whatever charge had just passed between them wasn’t just about sex. I knew it because for one night, I had felt it too. Something happens when two souls join the same way bodies do. Nina Astor and I had given each other everything we had that night. For the first and only time in my life, I’d been completely naked with a woman and allowed her to do the same to me.
I’d been cut open. And so fucking deep.
Do you believe in love at first sight?
Not until I saw you.
There was no going back after that. Unfortunately, it also meant nothing else could replace it once it was lost.
I shook my head. I’d already been down that rabbit hole too many times today alone. Right now, I needed to focus on the two very real people in this room who needed my help.
“So, what’s up?” Eric pulled me out of my daydream. “What’s the news?”
And into something worse.
“Well, I’m afraid it’s not very good. I got a call from my friend at the CIA. They, um, are declining to prosecute. They won’t be sending anything to the DOJ.”
“What?”
Eric exploded off the couch, nearly tossing Jane to the floor. She barely saved her wineglass, but looked too crestfallen to reply.
“What the fuck happened?” Eric demanded. “We practically gift-wrapped that indictment for them!”
I waited while he continued to spout. Jane’s normal air of mischief had completely shuttered while she toyed with her wedding rings, still loose around her fingers.
“Look,” I said once Eric had calmed down. “We’ve talked about this. You know as well as I do that the current administration is basically in Carson’s pockets. A pardon was always a possibility. Now it’s just…a reality, I guess. Unless he’s prosecuted here. At the state level.”
“We should take it to the press,” Eric said. “I’ll give an interview to the Times. Try his ass in the court of public opinion. Isn’t that how they got that campaign manager indicted in 2017? Where’s the fucking accountability?”
“I’d wait on that for a minute,” I said. “There’s another way to go. One that won’t give away your hand.”
“Like murder?” Eric muttered.
Jane elbowed him in the ribs.
To be honest, I couldn’t really blame Eric for the joke. If it had been the love of my life targeted in this way (Nina’s face again appeared in the back of my mind), I’d have probably taken my Marine-issued Beretta to the streets a long time ago.
“Kidding,” Eric said with a long drink of his vodka. “Sort of.”
“Look, maybe the feds aren’t prosecuting, but the Brooklyn DA sure as hell is,” I continued.
I proceeded to outline—vaguely—how my boss intended to pick off the people surrounding John Carson, mafia-style. The Brooklyn DA’s office had been going after New York’s worst gangsters for over a hundred years. We had a process. You go after the small fish first. You cut off the whale’s food supply. And then, when he comes down to find out where his chow went, you swoop in with the net.
Maybe Carson could buy off the feds, but he didn’t have any leverage with my boss or me. We just needed the right crime. The right confession. The right jurisdiction.
I didn’t mention the file that Tiana had sent this afternoon. I wasn’t really supposed to be discussing the details with them anyway; I only wanted to give them a little peace of mind when I could. They deserved at least that much.
Eric, though, had his own ideas. Stage a secret meeting of their so-called “society.” Lure the whale into the net instead of waiting for him to swim buy.
Jane wasn’t having it.
“No,” she snapped. “He’ll know what you’re doing. He’s thought one step ahead of you this whole time. Eric, he will know.”
Eric just stared at her, clearly getting his argument together. I wasn’t sure where I stood.
On the one hand, I was plenty interested in investigating the Janus society. From the outside, it sounded like a rich-boys’ club that also sounded an awful lot like the mafia. Its members met in defunct graveyards, smuggled booze and other goods, and in general took pleasure in fucking with regular people. If Eric wanted to give me the goods, I wouldn’t argue. Especially since getting a list of members wouldn’t just help the case—it would probably make my career.
On the other hand, I understood Jane’s trepidation. It wasn’t the safest plan when both she and Eric had already been abducted by these assholes.
Before he could answer, however, the buzzer announced another visitor.
“We’re not done,” Eric said on his way to the call button. “Yeah?”
“Mrs. Gardner is here.” Tony’s voice vibrated through the fuzzy speaker.
“Oh? Sure, send her up.” Eric unlocked the door. “This should only take a minute, Zola. It’s just my cousin. She’s been a huge help with all of this shit.”
I shrugged and took another sip of wine. “Fine by me.”
Heels soon clicked up the marble stairs. A second later the door swung open, and a bluster of white, blonde, and sparkle wrapped in a familiar gray coat whirled into the apartment with the force of the rainstorm outside.
“Hello, hello, I’m so sorry to interrupt your evening.” The visitor’s back was to us as she shook out her umbrella and set it by the door. “I’m a bit desperate, and I needed to see Jane immediately. I—oh!”
When she turned around, I could barely hold my glass. I couldn’t speak at all.
It was her.
The woman I’d been seeking for months.
The elegant work of art I’d been dreaming of every night since January.
She stood by the door, her large gray eyes locked with mine. She was a statue. I was a statue. Only the bit of pink at the tip of her nose and the crest of her cheekbones betrayed the fact that she was human. And that she was as surprised—or more—to see me too.
“Matthew.”
The word was so faint, it was barely audible. But hearing my name from those lips at last, I managed to find my own voice as well.
“Nina.”
Continue reading The Other Man
Legally Yours
An Excerpt
It wasn’t until I was about halfway through the park that I heard a voice echoing behind me.
“Wait! Miss! Fuck, I don’t know your name, but will you just stop!”
I turned around to find Sterling bounding doggedly through the snow. He stumbled, nearly fell on a crack in the sidewalk, but rebounded with the reflexes of a trained athlete and caught up with me in a few more steps. A few more errant locks fell across his forehead, and I was faced with a smile that made my legs feel as if they were immersed in a hot tub, not the frigid New England air blowing up my skirt.
“Do you always go wandering through the Commons after midnight?” he asked as he regained his breath. “It’s not exactly safe. Especially for someone like you.”
I didn’t have to ask what he meant by that, considering my size and gender. Instead, I flushed, suddenly embarrassed by my idiocy. I wasn’t some hayseed from the hills. In my desperation to escape that house and the very disturbing effect that, well, this man seemed to have on me, I had done what every city dweller knows not to do: wander a public park at night.
“You left without saying goodbye,” Sterling said with a sardonic lift of an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name. Or what you were doing in my house.”
“God,” I said, finally finding my voice, but able to look everywhere but directly at him. Like the sun, he exuded energy so bright I couldn’t see clearly. So instead, I rambled.
“I’m so sorry about that. I’m a friend of Ana’s, your housekeeper. She just let me in for a minute but had to go, uh, deal with something in her room. I didn’t have any cell reception down there, so I cam
e upstairs to find a signal. She had no idea, really, so please don’t blame her. I didn’t mean to intrude in your, space, truly, and, um...”
I didn’t stop babbling until Sterling placed his hands on my shoulders and bent down so his chiseled features were level with mine.
“It’s okay,” he said slowly, and I found myself rolling my eyes at his playful tone before I could stop myself.
“Sorry,” I repeated, but the babbling stage was over.
“Your name?” he prompted again, releasing my shoulders and standing back up straight.
It was then I realized again just how very tall he was. A frame that must have been close to six-four filled out a charcoal gray suit in a way that made me wonder just how much time he spent wearing a suit and how much time he spent at the gym.
“Yum,” I whispered before I could stop to think.
“Your name is Yum?”
“Oh, no,” I said, flushing an even deeper red. “Christ. Sorry. It’s Skylar.”
“Skylar Crosby?” he asked quickly.
I frowned at him. I wasn’t cold like Bostonians, but as a New Yorker, I had a deep suspicious streak. A stranger knowing my name definitely qualified as suspect.
“Yes…” I said, taking a few steps backward. “How did you know that?”
“I make it a point to know all of my employees’ names,” Sterling said with a brief, white smile. “Even the interns. Skylar’s a memorable one.”
Even though it was snowing outside, that was when I truly froze. The dots connected, and I suddenly realized who this was: Brandon Sterling, the elusive name partner at the firm he also founded. He was a legend in the office, but hadn’t been seen once by any interns. That in and of itself wasn’t unusual—we were disposable labor, so most of the partners were unlikely to take much interest. But even most of the junior associates who oversaw our work had never met him personally. He was a phantom.
“Oh, Jesus,” I breathed. “Jesus Christ.”
“No, just me, I’m afraid,” Sterling replied with another bright smile. “Although it’s a nice comparison.”
“I’m so sorry, sir,” I spluttered. “Oh my God, oh god, I was intruding on your home, and I really shouldn’t have. A friend of a friend invited me to wait for a car inside because of the weather, but it was completely inappropriate. I only went upstairs to find cell reception, I swear, and then you walked in…”
Shut up, shut up, he already knows this, shut up! My inner dialogue went crazy trying to censor the blather again pouring out of my mouth. When I looked back at Sterling, I was mortified to see him trying unsuccessfully not to laugh.
“Ms. Crosby,” he interrupted gently with yet another knee-weakening smile. “Really. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m just…very sorry for intruding,” I said lamely. “And for babbling. It’s something I do when I’m…”
“When you’re what?”
“Um, nervous,” I admitted.
“You’ll have to fix that if you want to be a litigator,” he joked, causing me to turn bright red all over again. Fuck, could things get any worse? Although I wasn’t sure I wanted the job at Sterling Grove, it would have given me a springboard to any other I wanted. I could kiss that opportunity goodbye.
“It’s all right,” Sterling said yet again, patting me gently on the arm.
In the cold, his touch seared through the heavy wool of my jacket. He shivered, and for the first time, I realized he had chased me into the snow in just his suit and very expensive-looking leather shoes, which were already getting watermarks from the snow around the tips. I looked down at my feet. My Manolos were also as good as ruined.
“I’m going to head back inside,” he said, tossing back toward his house. “Care to join me?”
“Oh no, sir, I’m really fine,” I said. “The T is just down this path, and it goes right back to Cambridge.”
Sterling glanced at his watch, which also looked very shiny and very expensive, but not flashy like that fool’s from the bar. Subtle. Tasteful.
“It’s almost one,” he said. “You probably already missed the last train, if you don’t get robbed in the park on your way there. Come on. My driver’s out of town, but I can call you a car while you wait.” When I hesitated, he reached out and squeezed my hand before letting it go, an intimate gesture that seemed to surprise him a bit too. “What kind of boss would I be if I made my interns stay until after midnight and didn’t give them a ride home?”
“Um…” For some reason, I couldn’t quite tell him that his office wasn’t the reason I was out so late.
“Let’s go,” he said again in a tone that brooked no argument and started to make his way back through the snow.
* * *
Someone (most likely Ana) had wised up to Sterling’s arrival. A large fire was alive in the fireplace when we reentered the house through the double-door entrance. There was no sign of his three companions. The house appeared to be empty but for him and me.
Sterling slipped off his shoes and carried them over to the fireplace. He set them down on the hearth while I loitered awkwardly in the foyer.
“Have a seat,” he said, nodding at one of the overstuffed couches I had been eyeing earlier. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
He disappeared upstairs while I sat down. When he returned, he carried a newspaper and a small box covered in scratches and paint splotches. He had removed his jacket, vest, and tie, and was decidedly more informal, with his white shirt unbuttoned at the throat and rolled up to his elbows. Though it was practically identical to the outfits of just about every other man I’d seen that night, there was something about the way the tendons in his forearms tested the limits of his rolled-up sleeves that made my mouth water, as if his casual regalia were trying to tame an animalism that was literally splitting seams to escape. Padding silently across the thick carpet, he reminded me of lion tracking its prey.
“May I?” he asked, kneeling in front of me and taking the heel of my shoe in his hand.
Wordlessly, I watched as he slid my pumps off each foot, then carefully set my stockinged feet back onto the sheepskin. When he looked up, our eyes caught as they had when I had first seen him. The moment quickly passed. He cleared his throat and stood up.
“Manolos,” he said, holding up one of my prized pumps. “The lady has expensive taste.”
“The lady has only one pair,” I responded sadly. “So I hope you’re not going to throw them in the fire.”
“Hardly,” he said, the “r” of the word flattening with a surprisingly thick Boston accent. He set both pairs of our shoes down on the hearth and proceeded to stuff them with crumpled newspaper.
“They’re not too wet,” he said. “I don’t think the fire will damage them at all, just help them dry. I’ll put some oil on them, though, if you’re all right with that.”
He opened up the box, which contained a rudimentary shoe shining kit.
“Where did you get that?” I asked. “It looks like an antique.”
“It was my father’s,” Sterling replied absently as he rummaged around and finally located a container of clear balm. He proceeded to dip a stained brush into the jar and rub it onto his shoes, one at a time.
“Oh, are you close?”
The question came out before I could help it. Sterling glanced up sharply for a half-second before returning to his work, now brushing the polish into my shoes with vigor.
“He’s not around anymore,” he said quietly.
“Oh,” I said. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I shouldn’t intrude. Again.”
He looked up again, this time kindly.
“Skylar,” he said, and it was then I realized how much more I liked hearing my given name roll off his tongue. Much like before, the ‘r’ at the end wasn’t fully pronounced, rolling open with a subtle New England cadence that betrayed a working-class background he hadn’t quite erased.
“Yes?”
“You apologize too much.”
“I’m so—�
� I started before catching myself. Sterling gave me a cheeky half-smile, and I couldn’t help but grin back. “Right,” I amended. “Okay.”
“Exactly,” he said with a wink before turning back to our shoes.
Ana entered the room with a tray bearing a teapot and a cup. When she noticed my presence on the couch, her expression briefly morphed into surprise before sliding back into easy affability.
“I believe you know Ms. Crosby, Ana,” Sterling said from his seat by the fire.
“Ah, yes, sir, a bit. I, um…”
“It’s all right, Ana,” Sterling said, echoing his words from before. I wondered if he tired of constantly having to reassure all the women he met. Clearly, he was disruptive to many of us. “You’re done for the night.”
“Yes, sir,” Ana said before leaving. “Good night.” With a quick, unreadable glance at me, she was gone, no doubt to gossip with Eric, if he was even still here, about what I was doing upstairs.
“Please,” Sterling said, indicating the tea. “You look frozen, so help yourself. I’ll call for a car and get another cup.”
He lifted himself easily from the hearth, and I couldn’t help but watch his finely shaped form as he strode out of the room. No wonder he kept himself such a secret at the office. With an ass like that, he’d have associates camped outside his door.
He returned shortly with his cell phone held to his ear and another teacup, which he set down on the tray. A woman’s voice said clearly that she would call him back shortly about the car.
“Cab companies call you back now?” I asked after he hung up.
“No, but personal assistants do,” he said with another impish half-smile. My gut clenched. “How’s the tea?”
I took a sip. It was delicious, a sweet jasmine that I’d never had before. “Wonderful.”
He nodded. “It’s a blend I picked up the last time I was in Beijing. I’m no aficionado, thought it was pretty good.” His phone buzzed in his hand. “Sterling.”
The woman’s voice was more muffled this time, so I couldn’t understand what she was saying. “Really?” Sterling asked at one point. “All right. No, no, that’s fine, Margie, I’ll take care of it. You have a good night.”
Bad Idea: The Complete Collection Page 114