Untied: A Mastermind Novel

by Lydia Michaels

  UNTIED

  A Mastermind Novel

  www.LydiaMichaelsBooks.com

  Bailey Brown Publishing

  Contemporary Romance

  Lydia Michaels

  UNTIED

  Copyright © 2018 Lydia Michaels Books, LLC

  Editor: Allyson Young

  USA | CANADA | SPAIN | EUROPE | NEW ZEALAND | AUSTRALIA

  eBook ISBN: 978-0-9995236-8-1

  Print ISBN: 978-0-9995236-7-4

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer. WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious.

  Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  www.LydiaMichaelsBooks.com

  Also by Lydia Michaels

  First Comes Love

  If I Fall

  Something Borrowed

  Simple Man

  Breaking Perfect

  La Vie en Rose

  Sacrifice of the Pawn

  Queen of the Knight

  Falling In

  Breaking Out

  Coming Home

  Sacred Waters

  Skin

  Chaste

  Faking It

  Forsaking Truth

  As Tears Go By

  Hold Me Fast

  How to Love Her

  Forfeit

  Lost Together

  Atonement

  Protégé

  Blind

  Calamity Rayne

  Sugar

  DEDICATION

  For Daniela.

  You’re a true romantic with a spicy soul.

  When I started writing this you were chasing love.

  In the end, true love found you.

  See … fairytales do come true.

  xo

  Chapter One

  “It's geeks who really make or break a TV show or movie or video game.”

  ~Stan Lee

  Former President of Marvel Comics

  “Here you go, Mr. Garnet.” The waitress placed the billfold holding Elliot’s credit card to the right of his napkin as he continued to read an article from the New York Times website.

  “Thank you, Tracy.” She was his regular server, one who understood he dined at the restaurant out of necessity, not because of a need for company or idle chitchat.

  “I’ve made a fresh pot of coffee for you. I’ll be right back with it.”

  It was also convenient that she knew he followed every supper with a cup of dark roast Brazilian coffee, and a generous helping of half and half—not those little individual vessels that sat out warming and cooling for God knew how long. And he preferred sugar in the raw.

  “Thank you.” He appreciated her attention to detail, her lack of tediousness, and his appreciation was reflected in his tip.

  As subtle as a breeze, she returned with his coffee and a small dish of cream, the packet of sugar resting beside his cup on the saucer. Elliot slid the billfold back to her, having removed his card and left a cash tip. “That’s for you.”

  She nodded her appreciation and slipped it into her apron. “Will there be anything else, Mr. Garnet?”

  “That’s all, thank you.”

  She stepped away and he set to mixing his coffee. As he swallowed the first sip, he applied his focus to relaxing, a practice that eluded him of late.

  Nine o’clock on a Tuesday there weren’t many patrons dining, which dictated his reservation time. However, there were always a few case studies of sociology and human nature that would make Henry David Thoreau spin in his grave.

  The world had become an endless race of lab rats in a quest to mimic human nature when, in all reality, there seemed a lack of humanity sweeping the species, a drought of tolerance for diversity, and a cruel chill that froze him out of social circles since childhood.

  What did he care anyway? He had no interest in pop-culture or keeping up with the Joneses. He was far past the time of caring what others thought of him, and his isolated existence was by choice, not assignment.

  Tedious, pretentious illusionists more concerned with performing on social media than accomplishing anything worthwhile. Where would they be if that carefully fabricated veil, threaded with fragile heartstrings, came down? At least he knew who he was and didn’t pretend to be anyone else.

  But tonight his observations were more envious than complaining, a rare occurrence that bristled. It had always been him and them. Backsliding into a place of feeling left out only wasted time and energy better spent elsewhere.

  Having created the leading social media network, he reaped the benefits of every shallow performer out there. Perhaps it was a bit of profit on the old adage those who can’t … teach.

  He’d failed, time and time again, to be more than a social misfit, but he studied others enough to see the tools in demand and make a penny off the fodder of egos, a.k.a. social media. He and his friends had created the world’s greatest virtual playground, yet still remained sentenced to the shadows of social belonging. Some things never changed.

  His eyes scanned the other diners, not really lingering on anyone in particular, but noting the various couplings. Always couples.

  Why did people take such issue with enjoying a meal unaccompanied? There was no deficiency in his life, though extroverts seemed to assume his introverted preferences implied there were plenty. He simply savored solitude and detested the chore of cooking—and small talk for that matter. Eating alone exploited opportunities for reflection. There was nothing wrong with—

  The broken record of justifications halted as every muscle in his body tightened. The air filling his lungs thickened, turning his breath heavy and jagged as his gaze snagged on a familiar form.

  Nadia.

  She was sitting only a few tables away. How had he missed her?

  Her sleek black hair was twisted away from her striking face, gathered in a heavy knot atop her head that unveiled the soft wisps at her temples, finer than baby’s breath. Her caramel skin gleamed from every angle, drawing his attention to the sharp slant of her exotic eyes as her dark irises flashed like polished onyx.

  There had never been a woman so perfectly put together, so flawlessly female. He swallowed thickly, his natural reflexes requiring mental commands that shouldn’t be necessary. Spellbound, he forced himself to breathe and blink as her arresting presence gripped him like an all-encompassing paralysis.

  His gaze drifted to her throat, exposed by the deep V of her crimson dress. Her breasts lifted and his body tightened. Her ruby lips parted, a look of distress stealing over her face.

  Elliot’s brow pinched as he tried to recall a time she looked anything other than happy—not that he was an expert, after only meeting her twice. Barely sparing her dinner partner a glance, he registered she was with a man. Of course, she was. Women like Nadia were hardly short on company.

  Her companion dominated the conversation, gesturing with his hands as his body language implied he was closed off to whatever they were discussing. When he reached for Nadia’s fingers resting on the table, she tucked the
m into her lap, drawing her narrow back into the seat, away from the table.

  The urge to interfere was unwise and unprecedented, a reflex he immediately stuffed away. Self-preservation radiated from her poise and graceful posture, enhancing her beauty with a silent show of pride. She tipped the scale of intimidation so off balance Elliot sank back in his own seat, but his shoulders weren’t nearly as stiff or assured as the woman he watched. She was simply unreachable by every standard, yet she captivated him in ways no one else ever had.

  The stiff set of her spine contradicted the plume-like grace she usually held. The sharp divot between her high-arched brows and the brisk flutter of her thick lashes were unspoken signals of her upset.

  The irrational instinct to protect her pounded harder, but too many unpleasant experiences from his past kept him still. There were heroes and then there were men like him. It was best not to confuse the two.

  Her long fingers twisted the linen napkin, tossing it down as she abruptly stood. His throat dried as his heart hammered in his chest. Her lithe body, pure flawlessness, was hugged by that deep red dress, accentuating every curve and denoting what seemed a billboard for the devil’s truest temptation. He wanted to be that dress, wrapped tightly around her every curve.

  Swallowing against the dryness of his throat, he casually adjusted the napkin over his lap. She was the only woman to ever cause such an intense reaction in him without fail, and it was happening again. Damn it.

  The man—her boyfriend most likely—stood and Elliot sank deeper into his chair. He was exactly the sort of man he’d expect a woman like Nadia to date, rife with testosterone, the clichéd societal ideal of masculinity. Every chiseled muscle was defined to the public eye, despite his clothing. The man was palpably attractive, everything Elliot was not, and he likely shared an intimate knowledge of Nadia.

  Elliot’s glance dropped to his coffee as envy burned through him like a glowing poker. All of his life he’d diverted his desires with things he could legitimately earn. He didn’t enjoy craving things outside of his reach, yet here he was coveting her.

  Nadia was his darkest desire, someone he shouldn’t know—didn’t really know—but there was no diversion from the suffocating hunger he suffered in her presence. The agony of looking into her beautiful eyes was indescribable—a torture he’d experienced twice and had no interest in repeating. She was too breathtaking and every time he’d been in her presence he felt like something inside of him was dying.

  He lifted his gaze as she brushed past her date. The man grabbed her arm and Elliot’s shoulders locked. Sliding his coffee away with unsteady fingers, his lips faintly trembled as he watched the heated couple, the tension between them unmistakable to anyone watching their argument unfold.

  She jerked her arm out of her date’s hold. Elliot’s breath sucked past his teeth. What right did that man have to touch her so aggressively? He was three times her size—twice Elliot’s size.

  “Nadia, wait,” the man snapped, going after her.

  “Get away from me, Ian.”

  “God damn it, Nadia…”

  Checking his pockets, Elliot quickly gathered his belongings, stashing his iPad in his shoulder bag, and followed them to the exit, keeping a safe distance. Lingering in the shadowed vestibule by the ATM, he watched the two argue just outside the entrance of the restaurant. Their muffled voices rose as they likely assumed they were without an audience.

  Elliot edged closer to the glass to better make out their words. Nadia’s long legs and pointed heels paced over the pavement.

  “This means what?” she snapped, an indignant set to her brow. “You sublet our home because you suddenly needed a change? Lófasz.”

  The Hungarian lilt of her voice heated his blood, sinking deep into parts of his body usually left cold. Why did she have such an effect on him?

  “Nadia, it’s nothing personal—”

  “Nothing personal?” She laughed coldly, her exotic eyes narrowing. “You … you think I’m an idiot, Ian. A man does not just decide to sublet his home and two days later he is moving. I know these things take time. No. A man does not do anything like that. A scared little boy does this!”

  “I gave you a place to live.”

  She scoffed. “And I gave you plenty in return. Where am I to go? Hmm?” She poked her finger into her date’s chest, her courage mesmerizing as she crowded the giant. “My mother’s? No. You know she is flying to Budapest in a few days.”

  “What was I supposed to do, put my life on hold until your family got their shit together?” the man argued, shoving her sharp-nailed finger away from his chest. “Nadia, we had fun, but this was never meant to be permanent.”

  She went completely still. Elliot craned his neck to better see her expression and his blood chilled. That look… It was not kind.

  A threatening glint filled her eyes. “Oh, I did not realize my being your lover was holding you up from other endeavors. And what might you be planning, Ian? Is it blonde or red-headed?”

  Ian shuffled back a step but she continued to crowd him. A lioness closing in on her prey.

  “I. Am. Not. A. Fool.” The sharp knife of her fingernail jabbed into his chest again, punctuating her words. “You go. You run away, coward. I do not want to be with a man who trembles at the thought of a future. You are a weak little boy, running away. And I am too much woman for you, little man. Go.”

  Ian snatched her hand on the last jab, his grip noticeably firm around her dainty fingers. “Poke me again,” he growled, eyes threatening.

  She yanked her hand out of his grasp and stabbed her finger in his chest. “Or what? You’ll throw me out? Ha! Too late.”

  His somewhat tolerant expression transformed with hostility as his hands flew out, jerking her narrow shoulders hard. “This is why I’m done! No sensible man would put up with this shit. You were never supposed to be more than a fuck! You’re an uneducated, glorified stripper, mistaking trashy clothes for sophistication and class. Champagne taste on a beer budget. Be grateful it lasted as long as it did.” He released her with a push. “You’re not worth it.”

  “Get away from me.” She took a staggering step back and Elliot noted her hurt, the shimmer of unshed tears in her eyes.

  “Gladly! You have until Friday morning to get your shit out of my place.”

  Her lips remained tight as he stormed away, leaving her on the dark, vacant sidewalk, all alone. Elliot’s heart pounded against his ribs. She didn’t burst into tears or even turn to watch him go, she just stood there.

  He backed into the shadows and considered his options. Long ago, he’d learned not to interfere in other people’s business. It never ended well. But the threat of the other man was gone, leaving only Nadia, and he couldn’t leave her there alone like that, could he?

  His attention returned to her. Her posture wilted as she lowered her head. Where did that man expect her to go? This was why people were better off living unattached lives. Or at least taking the time for formalities like renter’s insurance and cohabitating lease agreements. Regardless, codependent relationships were always dangerous.

  He should see if she needed anything. Chances were she wouldn’t even remember him, being that the second time they’d met, at his friend’s wedding, he lacked the balls to even say hello. She wouldn’t remember him.

  Still … she might be stranded. Offering help would be the chivalrous thing to do…

  Drawing in a deep breath, he wiped his clammy palms down the side of his slacks, adjusting his glasses and straightening his tie. He could do this.

  Stepping out of the shadows, strangely aware of how loud and jagged each breath left his lungs, he pushed the door only to collide with the handle when it didn’t budge. Nadia’s attention jerked to the glass. Damn one-way entrances.

  He pulled it open and cleared his throat. Their gazes held for an infinitesimal second that had enough longevity to somehow lift every hair on his body.

  His skin chilled as his chest warmed. Mouth dry, h
is lips moved over the silent shape of her name and he cleared his throat again.

  “Na … dia,” his nerves butchered her beautiful name.

  She frowned at him, no sense of recognition in her expression.

  He wanted to disappear, but he couldn’t move, so he tried again, voice shrinking to a whisper. “Hello, Nadia.”

  Her head tilted as if trying to place him. The breeze caught her mysterious scent and his body reflexively stiffened.

  “Do I know you?”

  Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he tried to disguise the inappropriate reaction her nearness was having on him. “I’m … Asher Roan’s friend, Elliot.”

  She snapped her fingers and clicked her tongue, startling him. “Yes, Elliot Garnet. You were in my dance class when Asher started taking lessons.”

  He nodded, shoving away the obstinate memory of the torture he’d endured for his best friend’s sex life. As far as first impressions went, that had been the worst.

  Change the subject.

  “Are … are you okay?”

  Her entire demeanor softened as she offered a comprehending sigh, obviously understanding he’d witnessed the argument. “I…” Her throaty laugh sent chills dancing over his spine. “No. No, I’m not okay.”

  This is your chance. “Do you need a ride somewhere?”

  It was late and he couldn’t just leave her stranded. Despite her impressive boldness, she was clearly shaken. Even the strongest creatures had their own personal kryptonite.

  She smiled, her full lips unveiling pearl white teeth. That mouth. He swallowed thickly and tried to draw his body away from the constricting material of his pants.

  “Aren’t you sweet.” Glancing away, she seemed to consider her options. When her gaze flicked back to him, her dark eyes stole his breath. “Would you like to grab a drink with me, Elliot?”

  Surmising home was the last place she’d want to go, he quickly measured the probability of humiliation versus fantasy. If he let her do most of the talking he could probably keep his presence neutral, at least get to sit close to her for a minute or two. The slithering sense of social suicide snaking through him was slightly overshadowed by the gains. He might even learn a thing or two about her.