“I know.” Ari’s voice cracked. She sounded so weak and pathetic, but her insides had just been hollowed out. She couldn’t even think straight.
“And you just let him walk out the door,” Tasha said.
“I know.”
“You should’ve seen the look on his face. He’s totally crushed!”
“I know, Tasha.”
“And you’re obviously in love with him, and—”
“I. Know!” Ari wanted to scream. Yes, she was in love with him. More than she’d ever loved another man. Which was exactly why his betrayal had hurt so much.
The irony was not lost on Ari; she knew damn well that her own betrayal was far deeper, far more damaging. But until the robbery actually happened, she could keep on pretending that she hadn’t betrayed him. That there would still be time, somehow, some way, to work this out.
All of that was over now.
And all of it, Ari admitted to herself, was entirely her fault. Still, as Tasha searched her face for an explanation, all she could say was, “He spied on me. Like, he ran an actual background check.”
She waited for her sister to freak out, to join her in bashing Jared for his creepy, stalker move.
Tasha’s nose wrinkled. “Are you serious? Do you know how many people do background checks on each other before a first date? I’m surprised this didn’t come up sooner.”
“You don’t think it’s totally invasive?”
“I don’t,” Tasha said. “Come on, Ari. Tell me you didn’t look him up online the second he told you his name.”
“I didn’t, actually.” Because by the time Jared had told Ari his name, she’d already read a full dossier on the man, and probably knew more about him in that moment than he’d ever be able to find out about her with a simple background check. But that wasn’t the point.
“I don’t believe you, but anyway.” Tasha shrugged. “People just want to be safe. Know what they’re getting into, especially if anything feels off.”
Tasha left the room, heading for the kitchen and the stash of emergency ice cream they’d kept stocked.
Ari followed, close on her heels. “So if some guy you were dating told you he’d run a check on you, you wouldn’t be pissed?”
“No, I’d be pissed. Pissed that he didn’t come to me first, ask me about stuff. Let me know he was thinking of doing it. I don’t know, I guess it’s a trust issue, sure.” She procured the ice cream—chocolate peanut butter, Ari’s favorite—and two spoons, one of which she passed to Ari. “But it’s not something I’d kill the relationship over, especially if it was with someone like Jared.”
Ari stuck her spoon into the carton, digging up a healthy scoop. Of course Tasha would see it that way; she didn’t have anything to hide.
Ari’s cheeks heated with shame.
Through a mouthful of ice cream, Tasha said, “Just call him. Don’t be dumb.”
Ari shook her head. “Like you said, it’s a trust issue, Tash. I don’t think I can get past this.”
“Not counting tonight, I’ve never seen you so happy. I mean, you’ve been floating.” Tasha inhaled another spoonful of ice cream, then pointed her spoon at Ari’s face. “Tell me you’re not totally head-over-heels for Jared Blackwell.”
“I can’t.” Ari shook her head. “I am.”
“So?”
“It’s not enough.”
The full truth of what Jared had done hit Ari then, right in the gut.
Of course he hadn’t uncovered anything incriminating—a criminal record was one thing she’d managed to avoid all these years, thanks to her father’s meticulous lessons on the importance of covering one’s tracks. With a clenching stomach, Ari wondered again what her father would say about all of this. About Jared.
Her lack of employment and subsequent lies on the matter were easy enough to explain away—she could’ve told Jared that she’d had a trust fund, and was embarrassed about not having to work for herself, so she made up elaborate lies about the career she wished she’d had. Or that she made money under the table and wasn’t “officially” employed, hence the lack of tax records. Or that she’d changed her name because of some past tragedy, starting fresh with a new identity and no paper trail. She could also claim that Davidson was a relative, taking care of her and Tasha when Ari couldn’t provide.
But she hadn’t said any of those things. Because by going behind her back to do the checking, Jared showed her—reminded her, really—that they could never have a normal relationship. That she could never have a normal life. She’d met him on the job she wasn’t allowed to talk about, proceeded to case his home for a robbery she wasn’t allowed to talk about, and in the process, she’d accidentally fallen in love with him. Now, she’d spend the rest of her years regretting it. For both of their sakes.
And that, more than anything, was why Jared’s betrayal had hurt so badly—because it wasn’t a betrayal at all.
It was a fucking reality check.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Two nights. That was as long as Jared was willing—and able—to hold out before he made a move.
Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t shake Arianne. The taste of her wouldn’t leave his lips, her scent had invaded his apartment, and everywhere he looked he saw those beautiful, devious, enticing hazel eyes.
Arianne was haunting him, and he wanted her back. No matter what she was hiding, what lies she’d told him, what past she’d been outrunning.
Maybe he was a fool, or a complete idiot. But he was also madly, desperately in love with her, and he wanted to protect her. Right now, that trumped everything else. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—let her go without a fight.
He’d been running for half an hour already, not paying attention to his route, and now he slowed his pace, taking in his surroundings as his heart rate stabilized. When he looked up from the sidewalk, he wasn’t all that surprised to find himself on the Upper East Side, just fifteen blocks from her penthouse.
Without wasting another minute, he took off again in the direction of Arianne, his feet thudding against the wet pavement along Lexington. He made a dozen blocks in mere minutes, fueled entirely by his singular mission and the not-so-distant memory of her kiss, still lingering on his lips.
Despite his sweat- and rain-soaked appearance, the doorman phoned in his arrival, and Arianne’s sister invited him up.
“Jared!” Tasha grabbed his arm the moment the elevator doors opened into their home, practically yanking him into the foyer. “I’m so glad you’re here. She’s been a miserable wreck since you left.”
“Really?” Jared couldn’t hide his smile, one that Tasha warmly returned.
“Did you run here?” she asked. “From Tribeca?”
Jared looked down at his soaked clothes. “I didn’t plan it. I was thinking about her and… it just kind of happened.”
“Okay, that’s only the most romantic thing ever.”
Jared smiled again. “You think so?”
“It’s practically out of a movie.”
“Let’s hope it’s one with a happy ending.”
After giving him a towel to dry his hair and face, Tasha offered him a bottled water, and let him know that Arianne was in her suite. Before she sent him back down the long corridor that would lead to his utter salvation or utter ruin, Tasha gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.
“My sister can be super stubborn,” she said. “But she’s amazing, and she’s… she really cares about you, Jared. I’ve never seen her like this. Everything will work out—trust me. Just apologize and all will be forgiven.”
Jared hoped she was right.
Leaving his muddy shoes in the foyer, he crept into Arianne's suite, the sound of the shower alerting him to her presence.
Jared sat in the desk chair, wishing he could just climb into that shower with the woman he loved, wrap her in his arms, kiss away their arguments and everything that stood in their way.
He didn’t even care about that damn report anymore. In fact, he
wished he’d never agreed to it. Evan had even offered to dig deeper. To have their guys do a thorough investigation, leaving no stone unturned in the life of Arianne Holbrook—if that was even her real name.
But Jared turned him down. Point blank.
Whatever she was hiding, whatever terrible secrets from her past, they could deal with it together, openly and honestly. No, he couldn’t tolerate the secrecy—that much he’d learned about himself. But he didn’t need to snoop. To send their corporate spies after her.
He just needed to make this right.
What if she refuses to listen? What if she tosses me out again?
In the bathroom at the other end of the room, Arianne's soft hum floated above the sound of the shower, giving him both hope and trepidation. A shiver raced along Jared’s spine, the air conditioning in the room not doing him any favors. Still, despite the chill, he was too nervous to take of his wet hoodie.
He rose from the chair, agonizing over what words he could offer, what single thing he could say to make her immediately listen. But before he’d sorted it out, something on her desk caught his eye.
Photographs. And floor plans.
Ones he’d seen dozens of times before.
Is that… my house?
He leaned forward, scanning the map and photos. Even without touching them, without digging through anything, he knew what they were.
Surveillance photos. Blueprints. And a series of numbers scrawled in pencil at the top in Arianne’s slanted handwriting—his alarm code.
Jared’s heart turned to stone.
Here, on the desk of the woman he loved, the woman upon whose feet he was seconds away from throwing himself, was everything someone would need to break into his house and rob him bloody blind.
His vision swam with stars, everything inside him twisting and electrifying into a jarring, impossible rage.
Jared had been lying to himself for weeks, denying every instinct that told him Arianne was up to something. But here, with a pile of evidence spelling it out, he could no longer deny it.
Arianne Holbrook—his soft, beautiful Arianne—was a goddamn criminal.
And she was planning to take him for a fool.
Through his anger, a sharp pain lanced his heart, then faded, his entire body going numb with the shock of her betrayal. The water turned off in the bathroom; she’d be out soon. Jared pictured her stepping from the shower into a cloud of steam, wrapping herself in a soft white towel. Moments earlier, he’d imagined slipping it from her body, pressing his lips to her warm, wet flesh, taking back every hurtful thing he’d said and done. He’d wanted so badly to make it right again.
Now, all he wanted was to disappear. Forget he’d ever met her.
Jesus, Arianne. Why?
The bathroom exhaust fan clicked off. She’d open the door in seconds.
Without a moment to spare, he shuffled all of the paperwork into a neat stack, rolled it up, and tucked it inside his sweatshirt, right against his chest.
He bolted out of the room and padded back down the hall, jamming his feet back into his wet running shoes.
And then, without even sparing a goodbye for Natasha, he left. Down the penthouse elevator, through the lobby, out into the oily gray Manhattan night.
With a dead heart and enough evidence to have Arianne locked away for a long time, Jared stepped out into the rhythmic rush of Park Avenue, took a deep breath, and ran.
To Be Continued…
Bared to the Billionaire: Book 3
Chapter One
Ari had fifteen minutes to come up with the lie that would save her life.
She shuddered, pushing away the bowl of chicken soup she’d made for lunch. Other than a cup of black coffee, she hadn’t eaten anything all day. Her stomach growled in protest, but she couldn’t force anything down.
I should already be in jail.
Ari hadn’t slept at all last night, her insides tied in knots after she’d discovered that Jared had been in her bedroom. She cursed herself for leaving the Annandale intel out—she’d been scrutinizing it all evening, desperately trying to find a way to stop the forward motion of events, but of course Jared couldn’t have known that. He’d shown up intending to talk things out, and instead of a reconciliation, he’d walked out with the evidence of her betrayal.
Every bump and creek she’d heard last night, every Park Avenue-bound siren wailing into the sky, Ari was certain the cops were coming for her—certain that Jared had sent them.
Ari let out a shaky breath.
It had been more than seventeen hours since Jared had taken off with the intel, and though he’d blocked her cell number and refused to admit her to his office building—she’d shown up first thing this morning, only to be shown the door by the security guards—he hadn’t turned her in.
That had to mean something, didn’t it?
If I could just talk to him, make him understand—
The buzz of the intercom startled her from her thoughts, sending a bolt of fear to the pit of her gut.
He’s early.
She instructed the doorman to send Davidson up, then stood by her private elevator awaiting his arrival, hoping against all logic that this time would be different.
It was a fool’s hope.
“You’d better have some good news for me, Arianne.” Davidson barged into the penthouse before the elevator doors had even fully opened.
Following him into the dining room, Ari admitted that she didn’t.
They took seats across from each other, Ari’s abandoned soup congealing in the bowl between them. Briefly, she wondered whether she should move it before Davidson had the chance to knock it across the table.
The cold, salty smell of it suddenly turned her stomach.
“What’s the deal?” Davidson leveled her with a steely glare, clearly annoyed at having been called uptown less than forty-eight hours before the biggest job of his career.
The one Ari was about to sideline.
Ari took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze. There was only one way to say it.
Just rip off the Band-Aid…
“This weekend is a no-go, Davidson.”
The words sat between them like black smoke, acrid and dangerous, and Ari instantly regretted inviting him into her home for this conversation. Why hadn’t she suggested a restaurant? Even if he embarrassed her again at Beyoglu, at least he wouldn’t hurt her there.
Too many witnesses.
Here, she was alone and scared, once again a little girl in the presence of a monster, no daddy around to protect her.
Shame heated her face, but in the wake of Davidson’s unnerving silence, Ari forced herself to continue.
“Getting him away from the house this weekend is impossible. I thought I’d had him convinced, but he backed out at the last minute. He showed up last night to tell me. I… I tried, Davidson. I swear.”
After a beat, he said sourly, “Lover’s quarrel?”
“Just business,” Ari said. A vein on Davidson’s forehead pulsed blue against his skin, but Ari couldn’t afford to stop. Stopping meant a lack of conviction—weakness. She needed him to buy into this lie, to give her some more time. For that to happen, she needed to stay strong.
“Blackwell’s not comfortable taking a vacation this close to the Hastings acquisition,” she said. “He needs to be available for his team. They’ve got strategy meetings, last-minute calls for—”
Davidson raised a hand, cutting her off. Ari hadn’t meant to flinch, but it was instinctual; she knew what the man was capable of, and she was rapidly running out of second chances.
Stay calm. Stay strong.
“Three weeks,” she said. “A month, tops. By then, the acquisition will be complete, and he’ll need a vacation.” Ari forced a smile, but Davidson’s dour expression didn’t change.
“His company is his top priority,” she babbled on, desperate to convince Davidson that this was the right call. “He’d never leave something so important to
chance, which is why he needs to be here to see the acquisition through. I mean, he’s got a great team, but it’s a complicated deal, and they need—”
“I have a theory, Arianne.” Davidson tapped the table in front of him. Tiny ripples disturbed the congealed soup like a pebble dropped into a polluted lake. “Care to hear it?”
A bead of sweat trickled down the back of her neck, rolling between her shoulder blades. She swallowed hard, then nodded.
Davidson rose from his chair and joined Ari on the other side of the table. He stood behind her, towering over her, his breath stirring her hair.
Cold fingers latched onto Ari’s bare arms, squeezing hard. She was only wearing a set of thin, layered tank tops, and her flesh screamed at his touch. She forced herself not to jerk away.
The sooner he says his piece, the sooner he leaves.
“I think we have a conflict of interest here.” Davidson ran his hands up her arms, then slipped his fingers over her shoulders, creeping up her neck. His enjoyment of the power game was obvious, every subtle move designed to make her react, but Ari didn’t budge, even when he leaned in close.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said.
“Maybe,” Davidson said, his breath hot and sickening in her ear, “my little succubus has feelings for the man. And in our line of work, feelings are foolish.” He ran his thumbs up and down her neck, deceptively gentle. “Deadly, even.”
Ari shook her head. “I’m just doing what you asked. Keeping him close, getting him to trust—”
“Shut the fuck up!” Davidson grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to meet his eyes. For a moment, she stared into the face of a maniac. Whatever strength and determination she’d tapped into suddenly vacated her body. She felt as fragile as a small bird.
Blood rushed to her head. Ari had no doubt that Davidson could and would kill her if he decided she was no longer useful, and she knew he’d be livid about the last-minute change in plans. But still, something was off. She couldn’t pinpoint it, but it almost seemed like… like he was coming unhinged.
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