by Luma Rose
“Did the two of you get along, or did you treat her with the same disrespect you treat all women?”
He’s one to talk.
“Are you trying to find out if you have a shot at her?”
“I’m not attracted to her, if that’s what you’re suggesting. Which reminds me—you pull that stunt last night again, walking away from me in a public place, and I will knock you down so fast you’ll be begging to be the fry guy at McDonald’s.”
I blow out a breath. “She was never my girlfriend if that’s what you’re asking. Like I said, we don’t have a relationship. I haven’t seen her since high school. Hell, I haven’t even thought about her since then.”
If I was a chick, I’d cross my fingers under my desk.
“Well, I want you to reacquaint yourself with her. Get into her good graces. You two had a moment on the dance floor.”
Not likely.
“For what purpose?” I ask. There’s always a purpose when it comes to my father.
“You don’t need to know any other information at this point.”
“The hell I don’t.” I sit up straight in my chair.
“Offer to reacquaint her with the area, wine and dine her, fuck her, I don’t really care. Just make sure she’s eating out of your hand.” He heads to the door, deeming our conversation over.
“What’s your endgame?”
He has one. He always has one.
“We can discuss that when the time is right.”
My hands clench into fists. “If I’m the pawn on the board, I want to know now.”
He chuckles, condescending but with genuine amusement lighting his dark eyes that match my own. “Son, you’re always in play. You’d do well to remember that.”
A long stream of air flares my nostrils as I attempt to keep my temper under control. I hate it when he has the satisfaction of knowing he got to me.
“Well, this pawn just removed himself from the board. Figure out another way to get what you want from Isla that doesn’t include me.”
He snaps back around. The amusement in his eyes seconds before is wiped clean, as though someone ran a wet cloth over a dirty blackboard. He places his palms on my desk and leans in toward me with a menacing glare.
“We both know that you’re going to do what I ask you to do. You have no choice. Unless you want you or one of your friends to see the inside of a prison cell.”
I shoot up out of my seat, no longer able to keep myself under control. Pressing my own hands on the desk, I come face-to-face with him. “Aren’t you ever going to get tired of using that against me?”
“One day, you’ll figure out that leverage gives you power, and one never tires of power.” He pats me on the cheek with his palm, and though I’d love nothing more than to snatch his wrist and break it, I manage to restrain myself, if not for myself then for my friends.
My father turns on his heel and leaves without a backward glance or another word, confident that I’ll do his bidding.
I pick up the glass and toss it across the room. It smashes against the opposite wall and rains down in pieces onto the table below that’s filled with the various business awards I’ve won over the years.
Roslin rushes in, her dark hair marked with gray pulled back into a severe ponytail. “Is everything okay?” Her eyes are wide and searching.
“Call maintenance and get them to clean this mess up,” I bark out.
Her head turns toward the shattered remains of my drink. “Right away, sir.”
I say nothing as she skitters out the door.
Of all the things my father could want me to do, having to make nice with Isla Flores isn’t one I would’ve predicted. He’s up to something, and I need to figure it out before I’m ensnared in his web of lies.
My mind zeroes in on Isla, but she’s just another chess piece I have to worry about. Easily dispensable.
7
Chapter Seven
Isla
I follow Ford’s Bentley Bentayga onto the private road that leads to Titans’ Tower. The chrome-and-dark-concrete monolith rises up in front of me with an intimidating grandeur. Ford follows the road marked Parking Garage to the right rather than heading to the outdoor parking lot, and I use the temporary visitor code he gave me to gain entry.
It hasn’t even been a week since his announcement, and already donations for his campaign have been rolling in. He’s garnered a large amount of support from the affluent members of the community, which is fantastic, but he needs to ensure that he also has the regular joes on his side if he wants to win.
That’s why I’m here. We’re going to try to come up with a strategy to do just that. Hank Klein, the campaign manager, was supposed to be here as well, but his wife and child both came down with the flu, so he had to leave to take care of them. I tried to do this at the campaign office, but Ford was desperate to change out of his suit, and he can be like a toddler who doesn’t want to go to bed when he doesn’t get his way. I’d been at the office all day and could use a change of scenery, so I relented. Not to mention, curiosity will kill me. I’ve heard about the Titans’ Tower through the grapevine and this is an easy way for me to see if the rumors are true—if they actually have a floor full of strippers at any given time for their exclusive use.
I park in a space marked ‘Visitor’ and turn my car off. I reach for the bag on the seat that contains all my files and exit the vehicle. Ford walks over to meet me from where he parked in another aisle. I can see him clearly because the garage is practically empty. Besides the Bentley he just arrived in, there’s only another three cars parked in here.
“It’s a little creepy how empty this place is,” I say, walking to meet him halfway. My heels click on the cement and the smell of concrete surrounds me.
He chuckles. “I might not have mentioned it, but the other Classholes and I are the sole owners of this building. We each have our own level to park our vehicles on. Have our own level to live on as well.”
My stomach pitches as if I’m standing on a small boat in rough seas.
“You boys really don’t like to share, huh?” I ask.
Ford must see something on my face, because he quickly follows his earlier statement with “Don’t worry, we’re going straight up to my level.”
A relieved breath leaves my lips. I haven’t directly discussed my interaction with Garrin at the party with him, but he’s no idiot. And given my past with Asher, I’m sure he assumes I’d rather not run into him either. I managed to avoid him the entire party last week, which I’m sure he noticed.
“Want me to take your bag?” Ford offers.
Always the gentleman. “No, I’ve got it, thanks.”
He leads me to an elevator and presses the button for the sixty-eighth floor. The pad shows there are seventy floors in total. This has to be one of the tallest buildings in the city, if not the tallest.
“If it’s just the five of you who live here, what’s on the other floors?” The rumor is they own the top half, but I guess I assumed that the people that live in the bottom levels help pay for this place. How naively stupid of me to think they would ever need a dime other than their trust funds.
“They’re empty.” He looks a little chagrined. Probably because of the kind of wealth it implies that they can afford to build a structure like this and leave the majority of it unoccupied. “Each floor is set up to be turned into condos eventually, if and when we decide this arrangement no longer works for us, so we prefer to think of it as an investment rather than an indulgence.”
I can’t help the smile that comes to my face. “You will make a good politician.”
He knocks me with his shoulder just as the elevator dings, announcing our arrival on the sixty-eighth floor.
“My friends don’t play well with others. You know that.” He winks. “Come on in. Make yourself at home while I go change.”
I walk in behind him. He mindlessly tosses keys in a dish on a giant round table with a flower arrangement blooming in the
middle as if the president just died. Everything is darker than you’d expect for a bachelor in his twenties. Reclaimed wood on the ceilings, dark walls, big inviting gray couches. A wall of shelves lined with books.
I walk to the edge of the open living room and look out at the expansive view. Because they built at the edge of the city, there are no other buildings obstructing the view. Lights twinkle far below in the dark, indicating other neighborhoods. I bet that during the day, the mountain range can been seen far off in the distance as it can most places.
“Can I offer you a drink?”
Ford steps back into the room wearing a pair of black athletic pants and dark gray T-shirt.
“Maybe just some water if you don’t mind.” I step away from the window and move farther into the room, wishing I felt comfortable enough to lie down on the couch with a blanket and fall asleep.
“Coming right up.”
He returns a moment later with a bottle of water in one hand, an open beer in the other. “Here you go.” He passes the water to me.
“Thanks. Where do you want to set up?”
He shrugs. “We can work in here if you want rather than my office. It might be more comfortable.”
“That works.” I attempt to keep the giddiness out of my tone. I take my bag over to the oversized couch and take a seat, placing the bag beside me and the water on the coffee table. “I have some ideas I’ve been brainstorming that might be helpful in upping your appeal to lower-income voters.”
“I’m all ears.” Ford sits a comfortable distance away from me, his legs sprawled out in front of him, his bare feet crossed as he sips his beer like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
I pull the files from my bag and place them on the table in front of us so that we can talk over voter registration and what areas we should concentrate on.
“All right, here’s what I’m thinking…”
Two hours later, I’m squeezing the bridge of my nose with my eyes closed.
“Why don’t we take a break? I can’t look at any more stats and figures and voter registrations,” Ford says, placing his current beer on the table.
“Me either.” I lean back into the cushion behind me. Yep, it really is the most comfortable sofa I’ve ever sat on. Money really can buy happiness.
“You sure you don’t want a glass of wine? You deserve one.”
I turn to him. “That sounds like heaven right now.”
“I don’t keep any at my place, but there’s lots down in the lounge. Come on, I’ll give you the tour.” He stands from the couch and it’s then that I notice he’s wearing a black leather bracelet. Ford doesn’t seem like the type to wear leather. Gold, platinum, but not leather.
“What’s the lounge?” I follow him toward the door.
“It’s a communal level in the building where we meet up to hang out or throw parties or whatever.” He turns the doorknob and steps out into the hall.
“Oh.” I stop abruptly at the entrance to his apartment. The last thing I want is to run into Garrin again. The guy is as welcoming as a mosquito. He likes to buzz around me, and just as I think he won’t bite me, he gives me the biggest welt that doesn’t go away for weeks.
“Don’t worry. There’s no plans. Everyone is probably working late or some shit.”
“Okay.” I follow him down the hall to the elevator, where he presses the button.
“You sure you don’t want to put some shoes on?” I tease.
A smile grander than this building creases his lips. “It’s my building.”
Other than that moment right there, he seems like the old Ford, dressed so casually and being so laid-back. Since I’ve returned, I’ve only seen him dressed in suits and wearing stress lines on his forehead when we’re at the campaign office.
The elevator arrives and we step inside, Ford hitting the button for the sixtieth floor.
Ford lives on the sixty-eighth, communal on sixtieth? What floor does Garrin live on? Wait—no, I don’t care. Why would I?
I glance down to find Ford playing with the dark leather bracelet on his wrist. I inspect it further because there has to be some meaning behind it. Faded letters or a word is stamped into the leather, but I can’t make out what it says.
“That’s an interesting bracelet,” I say.
He stares down for a moment and shrugs. “Yeah, thanks.”
He doesn’t offer any further information, so I don’t pry, though I am curious about the story behind it.
The elevator dings and the doors open to reveal an enormous open-concept room filled with everything you could want to entertain yourself. There’s a bar at the far end as well as a kitchenette, and a lounge area with a massive TV hanging on the wall across from the seating. A pool table and shuffleboard table dot the middle of the floor plan, and a series of retro video games are lined up against the wall. There is also a gaming area that’s been set up that includes four separate screens, chairs and every gaming system on the market. The stripper pole doesn’t go unnoticed by me, but I don’t let my thoughts linger on what that might be used for. On the end closest to us, there’s a long hallway with a bunch of closed doors.
It’s basically one giant man cave.
“Wow. This is…” I’m not even sure what word to use, but Ford seems to catch my drift.
“Yeah,” he says with a chuckle.
“Come on.” He leads me to a full-size wine fridge in the kitchen area. “Pick your poison,” he says.
I look inside and recognize the names of very expensive brands of wine and champagne. It’s not surprising, knowing how much money these men must have between them, but sometimes I’m still taken aback by their level of wealth.
I bend over to see what’s on the lower shelf, but the sound of voices behind us causes me to stiffen.
Asher and Lincoln saunter into the room and stop when they spot me standing with Ford. I haven’t seen Lincoln since I returned, but his hair is still dark near the roots and changes to something closer to a copper brown on the ends. His hazel eyes are as intense as always—as though he knows your deepest and darkest secrets. Asher has his perpetual half grin on his face, the same as he did the other night.
“Wasn’t expecting to see you guys,” Ford says from beside me and closes the door to the wine fridge.
“We came in at the same time. Thought we’d grab a drink. Hey, Isla, I heard you were back in town.” Lincoln gives me a chaste hug, much to my surprise. He was never a friendly guy.
We were acquaintances in high school at best, but we were never particularly close. Not like I was with Ford, or with Garrin.
“Hey, how are you? I heard you’ve done well since high school.”
He gives me an arrogant smile. I don’t think these men can help themselves. I’m amazed their egos can fit in this high-rise. “Things have worked out well.”
That’s an understatement. Lincoln was always a genius with computers and opened his own cybersecurity firm. When the MADCAP virus went around five years ago, infiltrating personal computers and businesses alike, Lincoln’s firm was able to develop a patch, which they sold to hundreds of millions of people around the world, making him a billionaire. There was even speculation that he was the one to start the virus, but nothing ever came of it.
“I’m glad for you.” I turn my attention to his companion. “Asher.” I nod.
It’s the first time I’ve addressed him directly since he undressed me back in high school. For some reason, his eyes linger on parts of my body, like he’s remembering what I look like unclothed.
“Hey, you’re still fucking hot. If you ever wanna go for round two, let me know. I’m in.”
My face heats and I shift my feet.
“Don’t be a dick,” Ford fires back at him.
It’s all just too much, too soon. Seeing them all again. The hurt, the betrayal, the shame. The embarrassment heating up my face like an inferno. “You know, it’s getting late. I should get going. We have a busy day tomorrow.”
Ford pushes a hand through his thick hair and frowns, understanding on his face as he looks to his friend with displeasure. “Yeah, okay. I’ll take you up to grab your bag.”
“See you guys later.” I give Lincoln and Asher a lame wave and head across the massive room toward the elevator, Ford accompanying me.
A buzzing sound comes from his pocket and he fishes his phone out of his sweatpants. “Shit, it’s my mom. I need to take this.”
“I can wait,” I say, though it’s the absolute last thing I want to do.
“Here, take this. Just wave it in front of the pad in the elevator, then press the button to my floor.” He passes me a shiny black card with a matte black emblem of the building on it.
“What will you do?” I ask.
“I’ll get another from security. Just bring it with you tomorrow.” His phone buzzes again and I can see that there’s concern on his face, so I don’t argue.
“All right. Thanks.”
He nods and answers his phone, stalking off down the long hallway, away from his friends.
I hit the button on the elevator and wait awkwardly while trying to act like I can’t hear Asher and Lincoln talking shit about the girl Garrin brought back last week. What a dick move it was. My eyes focus on the button, desperately wanting the light to go out so I can get out of here. Surely it shouldn’t take too long when there’s only five of them living in the building, three of whom are already on this floor.
The elevator dings and the doors part. Thankful to hightail it out of here, I step forward, only to be met with a pair of chilling dark eyes.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Garrin sneers.
It takes me a second to fend off my surprise, but I gather my wits and step into the elevator. “You need a new line.”