Fifth Avenue Box Set: Take MeAvenge MeScandalize MeExpose Me

by Maisey Yates

  “Or maybe we just play up the chemistry we have between us?” He leveled his gaze with hers and her darn unreliable throat went dry again.

  “Well, yeah, we could do that, too,” she said. “Or...I mean...the flexibility.”

  He walked toward her, his eyes locked with hers, and she literally felt her knees get weak. She couldn’t look away from him. Couldn’t do anything but watch as he closed the distance between them.

  He reached his hand out and cupped her cheek, sliding his thumb along her skin. “I don’t think we’ll have very much trouble convincing people there’s something pretty explosive between us.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No. I have a harder time convincing myself that what happened between us last week...how good it was...wasn’t real. That I’m making it bigger in my mind.” He put his other hand on her cheek and she couldn’t breathe at all. “I’m trying to make myself believe it. Because if I don’t—”

  An alarm buzzed and she cursed and blessed the timing.

  “That would be the food,” he said.

  “Yes.” She let out the breath she’d been holding and stepped away from him. Saved by the takeout. Any longer and she was sure she would have kissed him. And from there he would have gripped her hair in that iron fist of his and...well, she would have followed any command that had come after.

  She watched him go to the door. Watched him take the delivery. She was powerless to do anything but watch him when he was around. She was missing some brain cells when it came to the man, and she couldn’t quite figure out why.

  “Want to sit...?”

  “Anywhere,” she said.

  He lifted a shoulder and carried the bag into the kitchen area, to the small table he’d been having his coffee at that morning.

  Had it only been a few hours ago? It felt like days.

  It felt like weeks since they’d slept together. And like only a moment ago, too. Because she was pretty sure she could still feel the impression of his touch lingering on her skin, burning, as though he’d only just touched her.

  “I guess we’ll be spending the holidays together,” she said, wandering over to the table and sitting. “Do you have soda?”

  “Soda?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have beer.”

  “I don’t really like to drink. I mean...I will. But I don’t often.”

  “I see. Too responsible?” he asked, opening the fridge and pulling out a can of soda.

  “No. It’s just that some kids think it’s cool, I guess. Because it’s forbidden. Because they’re drawn to the idea of losing their inhibitions. That part of it, I don’t find appealing.” She shrugged. “I saw my parents drunk and high.... It’s one of my first memories. That and the first time I got high.”

  His shoulders tensed, his entire body going rigid. “Don’t look so surprised,” she said. “Do you really think kids can be in a house like that, with garbage like that, and never try it? In my case, I got into it sort of innocently. It was E, I’m pretty sure. Which wasn’t their usual drug of choice but...they weren’t that picky.”

  She held her hand out, waiting for the soda, looking for a distraction. He handed it to her, the can cold, the tips of his fingers warm. She wanted to hold his hand while she told the story. To take in his warmth. Instead, she clutched the can and let the ice seep through her skin.

  If she told it like it wasn’t her, it was easy. And she had told it like that. A few times. For Trey. For some community-outreach programs. Because it was one of those stories that helped people.

  Even if it cost her a little bit of herself every time she told it. Because of the hypocrisy. Because of the parts she didn’t tell. But it was a good story, a valuable one. And if she broke herself apart from it, telling it felt like the right thing.

  She’s not you. She’s a little girl. A different little girl.

  And the girl she’d become? She wouldn’t think about her at all.

  “Anyway,” she said, popping the top on the can, “I got ahold of some Ecstasy that was sitting on the bedside table in my parents’ room. I took one pill. Which, being a kid—I was, like, twelve—I was sort of light, and that meant I was, as they say, rolling pretty hard.”

  She took a drink and watched Austin’s expression closely. He was blank. Damned lawyer face.

  “I saw a lot of weird things. And it kind of freaked me out, but it made me really euphoric, too. My parents lost their minds when they saw me, and that scared me. I couldn’t stop shaking. I was out of control, completely. I probably needed a doctor but that meant taking me to the emergency room, which would have been detrimental to them. They would have lost us. They would have been arrested. So instead...they put me in my room to wait out the high.” She closed her eyes then, reciting some of the stats she used when she spoke to classes. “One pill can last six hours. But comedowns can last even longer. It can take days to feel normal again. For me, it took about three days. And they were the worst days of my life.” She broke from what she told people then. Broke from the script, from anything she’d ever said out loud before. “I was sadder after coming down from that high than I’ve ever been. Sadder than I was when Sarah killed herself. Because...even though it wasn’t the whole time, there were moments during that high when I was happier than I’ve ever been. It’s not a natural feeling. At least it wasn’t for me. I’d never been really happy before. And I achieved it, in drug form. I understood then why they did it. What they were running to when they took all that stuff.”

  “But you never took them again?” he asked, his words slow, cautious.

  She took a breath, deflected the question. “E was not a good experience for me. You know, as nice as the euphoric feeling was, the comedown was...hideous. And it lasted longer. Plus, I hated understanding them. I hated having an inkling of why they let their children fend for themselves for days at a time. Why they loved a substance more than they loved us. And I hated being out of control. I’ve had so little control in my life that what I could have, I’ve taken with both hands and held on to it as tightly as I could.”

  She opened the box of food and starting dishing out noodles, not paying attention to what it was she put on her plate. No, false euphoria wasn’t her thing. Though, if not for the hellish comedown...it might have been.

  She liked sleep. She liked to be numb.

  She wasn’t going to talk about that.

  “Not always,” he said, his eyes meeting hers, heat arching between them.

  “Everyone needs a break, I guess.” She looked down at her food and broke the chopsticks in two, taking a scoop of noodles. “Anyway, now you know why I’m not big into altering my mood.” Not anymore at least. There were limits to her honesty. She didn’t owe him her every sordid detail. She didn’t owe it to anyone.

  “That’s...awful, Katy. I don’t even really know what to say about it. Sarah...never told us any of this. She never... I never got the impression she’d been into drugs, or around them.”

  “I don’t know what her experiences were with drugs. I don’t think she ever took any. She warned us away from them, but...she was in college by the time that happened to me. Trey never tried anything because I threatened him within an inch of his life and told him I saw a white light and angels the only time I took that garbage.”

  “You lied to him.”

  “Yes. And I don’t regret it. I did what I had to do. Because I was a kid raising a kid. Basically, a mother bear with a cub in a den full of bear traps.”

  “So why did Sarah leave? You never did.”

  She took a bite of the food and chewed methodically to avoid answering for a moment. “She believed in education. She thought it would make a long-term change. Something lasting. Yes, she could have stayed. And she could have protected us, but she could never have changed things drastically. Plus, Sarah had the mind to change things. To change the whole world.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “I’m a waitress, essentially. Well, I was an ev
ent coordinator for a few months, but even so, there was a lot of busing tables involved. But that’s what I do. I work. I worked to keep Trey in food and clothes. I worked to keep him safe. I worked my way up to Jason Treffen’s inner circle so that I could be a part of taking the bastard down. Sarah was a thinker. I’m a doer. It was better that I stayed to get things done while she went forward.”

  “But she didn’t come back,” he said.

  “No. In the end, though, it wasn’t her job. It was their job.”

  “Your mom and dad?”

  “Yes. And they didn’t do it.” She took a deep breath and stared ahead, not really looking at anything. “They love us. It’s so strange to think about, all things considered, but they do. My mom said to me one time that...that we were the very best of them. The pieces that weren’t ruined.” She swallowed hard. “But he ruined Sarah. And then they wanted to spend the money he gave them on more... I wouldn’t spend it. The money your father gave to my family. I gave them some. I lied and told them that was all and I put the rest in an account and never touched it. I didn’t want money in trade for my sister’s body. Sorry. I make a very poor dinner companion.”

  “No. I should know. I feel like I should understand. Because all of this stuff...it explains Sarah. Where she was coming from. Why she didn’t feel like she could leave the job.”

  For some reason, his words sent a shot of pain straight to her heart. Just a small twinge. But it was very real.

  Because what she’d told him mattered, but only in context to what it meant for Sarah.

  What? You expected something else? He was her friend. He’s nothing to you. He had sex with you once, and to a guy like him that means nothing.

  Everything in her life was about what she could do to fix it for other people. To find ways to manage her own pain so it never got in the way of what she had to do. It always had been. It wasn’t a sob story and an invitation to a pity party. It was how things were. There was no point in bitching about it.

  She had her life. She’d never been abused the way that Sarah had been. And because of her role in Trey’s life, she’d very likely spared him from going down the same path as her parents.

  So yes, her life had often been about other people. Fixing things for them. Avenging them if it came to it.

  But she couldn’t complain about it. Not really.

  Not when it was so utterly necessary.

  “Yeah, well. I understand,” she said, even though sometimes she didn’t. Sometimes she didn’t understand why jumping off a building was better than coming home. As soon as she’d thought it, she felt guilty for it. Because there were the pictures. The obvious evidence of what she’d been subjected to. Sex with her much older boss, probably under duress. Probably whether she really wanted him or not.

  Maybe she’d felt too far gone to come home. Maybe she’d felt too changed. Too broken.

  But she hadn’t been. She never would have been as far as Katy was concerned. No matter what she’d done, no matter what had been done to her. No matter how much she’d done willingly, and how much had been forced on her...none of it would have mattered.

  Not if she could have had her back.

  “You both felt a lot of responsibility,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “For your brother.”

  “Of course. He was so much younger.”

  “And for your parents.”

  “What?” she asked, freezing.

  “You do. You feel responsible for them, and she must have, too. Because neither of you reported them.”

  “Well...what’s the point, right? Of letting them go to jail. Getting us put into the foster-care system. We were made afraid of ‘the system’ very early on. The scare tactics were effective. Plus, there was strength in being together. Even when Sarah was gone, Trey and I had each other.”

  “Sarah still has you,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said, thinking about all the things in her life that had led her to this point. About what had motivated her. “Yes, she does.”

  “Think you’re ready for another party this weekend?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “The party planner attending as the son of the high-powered host’s lover? I’m not sure. What exactly will we tell them?”

  “The truth,” he said. “That we met at the first party. That we went to a hotel together. And beyond that we can get a little creative.”

  “Uh...meaning what?”

  “Meaning we don’t have to tell anyone that we didn’t see each other for a few days after. Or that I made you lose your job.”

  “And made sure I was homeless so I had to come live with you? Yeah, that sounds more like the story of How I Filed for My First Restraining Order. Not so much How I Met Your Mother.”

  “So we’ll change it. We made love,” he said, his voice a caress, lingering over the words, making an illicit shiver wind through her body. They’d never made love. Of that she was certain. What they’d done had been great, but it had not been making love. Making love was something that grew between lovers, wrapped itself around them both. It was something that was for two people.

  What they’d done hadn’t been that way. She’d wanted what she’d wanted. He’d taken what he’d needed. It just so happened those desires were compatible.

  “We made love,” she said, trying not to blush.

  “Yes, and then after that we were inseparable. We came back to my place. We ate takeout on the floor. We didn’t leave the house for days. We just stayed here, wrapped up in each other. And then, well, then I asked you to stay because I couldn’t bear to let you go.”

  His words painted a warm picture in her mind. One she could see clearly. One she could feel without ever having experienced it. He made her feel like it might be real. Made her feel like she wanted it to be.

  What might that have been like? To have been possessed by him, claimed by him utterly, and then...kept by him?

  You don’t have time for that.

  No. She didn’t. And she didn’t have time to sit here and weave fantasies about it, either.

  “Nice case you’re building, Mr. Lawyer-man,” she said, as much for her benefit as his. To remind herself that words were his business. That spinning the truth from lies was what had bought him this house they were currently sitting in.

  His skill had paid for her Thai food. Suddenly, it tasted a little bitter.

  “Well, we may not have to say anything at all. But if we do, we both know the story.”

  Yes, they did. And like the brief, false high she’d gotten from the drugs so long ago, she felt a warm glow in her chest connected to vapor. To something insubstantial and false. Something that would never be. Because it didn’t exist. Not outside of a pill, or a well-constructed story designed to make other people believe in a lie.

  “Well, hopefully they won’t need it. But if they do, we can be all legit.” She continued to eat, even though the food didn’t really have a flavor anymore. Not to her.

  “That’s the idea.”

  “What would he do?” she asked. “I mean...if he finds out we’re out to get him, to take him down.”

  “I don’t know. Because I didn’t know he would go as far as he did. He’d probably make up some great stories about my childhood. Me? He’d cut me off at the knees in my professional life. He’d make sure I couldn’t get cases. That I was discredited. You? I don’t think you’d be that lucky. Which is one reason I need to keep you safe.”

  She couldn’t remember anyone ever trying to protect her before. And even if it was for Sarah, it was real. He was taking care of her. That was such a strange feeling. And it was a little bit magical.

  Suddenly, dinner tasted good again.

  “So the next party is this weekend,” he said.

  “Yes, I remember. I planned it.”

  “So you did. What’s on the menu?”

  “It’s going to be good. There’s this little appetizer with a bit of tortilla, some quail egg and an heirloom-tomato
relish....”

  “They were stupid to fire you.”

  “Or they felt intimidated by the big bad son of the man signing checks. Well, and the man himself. I think your father is hoping I’ll come to him on my knees and beg for work. As it were.”

  “Oh, it’s going to make him angry that you didn’t,” Austin said, smiling. “That you got on your knees for me instead.”

  She blinked rapidly and tried to ignore the pricks of heat in her face. She had indeed done that for him.

  “So what are we doing at this thing? Besides poking dear old dad with a stick?”

  “Again, I’m playing at reconciliation so that I can get closer and hopefully get a small bit of...something. And I need to get enough evidence to bring to my mother.”

  “You’re really going to do that? To your mother?”

  “I don’t want to,” he said, sounding weary. “I don’t want to do it at all. But the fact is, she shouldn’t be with him. She should get free. Cut ties. I need to make sure that Addison doesn’t even get near these sorts of men.”

  “Addison?”

  “My sister,” he said, his voice rough. “My younger sister.”

  “I didn’t realize you had a sister.”

  “I know what it feels like to care about someone like that,” he said. “Wanting to protect them from...everything. Unfortunately, I think the best thing I can do to protect them both is make sure they know the truth.”

  “The truth sucks.” It did. She could remember, very well, being the one to tell eight-year-old Trey that Sarah was gone. Telling her parents. She could remember the desperate sadness that had surrounded her. The feeling that she couldn’t give in to her own grief, because if she did, if she stopped holding tight to everyone, they would all just splinter apart.

  “But it has to be told. And in order to do that...I need something convincing. It doesn’t have to hold up in a court of law. Just the court of Lenore Treffen.”

  “I think that’s possible. Although, I will need something fabulous to wear.”

  “Will you?”

  “You’re designer-suit man. I can’t go off the rack,” she said, her tone dry.