Nicholas gave her a smile she might have called remorseful, if not for the carnal edge.
“I like fucking with you,” he said. “It gets me off.”
She paced back and forth several times, trying to control her emotions. How dare he yank her around this way, with such blatant attempts at manipulation. Fucking her, taking her out to lunch, letting her think he was going to hurt himself—and then asking her to do it. Her throat tightened and she found herself wondering if this was yet another trick.
Whirling around, she turned to face him again. He'd dragged his legs onto the bed and had managed to arrange himself into a position of careless repose. And he was watching her.
“I still have things from the private investigator,” he said, unprompted.
“Why are you so obsessed with me?” she asked helplessly.
“You're beautiful,” said Nicholas, “and interesting, and cryptic. You made it hard to get to know you—made it feel like a challenge, and when you stopped talking to me, the only way I could get to you was through trickery, deceit . . . or force.”
“That's sick,” she said.
He looked at her. There was a lot in that look, none of it good for either of them. “You have no idea,” he said. “No idea what I've done . . . how far I'd go. If you think I'm sick now—”
“Stop talking.”
She wondered, even as he fell silent, if she should have let him keep going. What had he done? Pawed through her underthings? Watched her sleep? Worse?
Jay darted a look at his solemn, tortured face and thought, Worse. “Why did you do it?”
“I wanted you . . . so fucking much.” He scrubbed his hand over his eyes. “Nobody makes me feel the way you do. You make me want to be a good man.”
“And so you acted like a psychotic one?”
“I never said I wanted to be a rational man,” he said, with a brief flash of lucidity.
She turned from him, her eyes falling on his curated bookshelf with the glossy spines and its matching curios. That's what this was, she realized—a glossy, soulless life. For a glossy, soulless man. “Did you do the things they're saying you did to your employee?” she asked slowly. “To the one who's suing you?”
“I fired her because she was bad at her job.” He let his hand fall. “I'm not my father.”
Jay sat down on the edge of the bed. “You're not,” she said. “I don't know what you are, but you're not your father. You're something else.” I'm just not sure if it's better.
“We were entertainment for him,” Nicholas said. “He called me a backyard breeder—his family bred horses, it's an insult—and then he offered me an advance on my inheritance if I filmed myself fucking you and sent him the tapes. That was why I started blackmailing him.”
“Oh my God,” Jay said, feeling sick.
“I wanted to protect you,” said Nicholas. “And I did—from everyone except myself.” His eyes flickered, watching her lean forward on her knees. “What are you going to do now?”
“You're starting to sound a little more sober.”
“I'm not. The room won't stop spinning.”
With a sigh, Jay stood up, and scooted a trash can to his bedside, turning to look at him warily when he clumsily swiped for her hand. “Don't run.”
Jay took her hand back and swept out of the room, closing the door behind her.
▪▫▪▫▪▫▪
Nicholas woke up with a throbbing headache around eleven at night. Blearily, he checked his phone, unsurprised to see that he had messages from both his lawyers. It's over, he thought, heading down the stairs. His eyes felt sore. Soon all of this will be over.
He made himself dinner, which he ate with a full bottle of water. He grabbed another on his way back to his room, looking at Jay's closed bedroom door. There was no light underneath. He went to his room and got out his checkbook, writing a blank check for ten million.
Whatever else he might be, he was a man of his word.
Jay hadn't locked the door and when he opened it, he saw her curled into the sheets in one of her little band T-shirts. He set the check on her nightstand and quietly tiptoed out of the room.
He wondered if she'd still be here in the morning.
When he woke up again, his head felt like it was packed with sand. He got dressed briskly, studying his reflection in the mirror. Probably time for a shave, he thought, fingering his beard. He gave himself a quick trim so he wouldn't look like a fucking werewolf when he met with the lawyers, resolving to wake up early the next morning so he could take care of it.
As he grabbed his wallet and phone off the nightstand, he encountered a small, neat pile of shredded paper. He recognized his own handwriting on it: the check.
She didn't take the money.
She was downstairs, waiting in the kitchen with her purse on her lap while she flipped through her phone. She was wearing that wrap skirt with the bow that he loved, and with her legs crossed on that bar stool, it rode just high enough that he could make out the lacy tops of the stockings she wore with it. She glanced at him and deliberately tugged the hem down.
He immediately went hard. “You're still here.”
“Where else would I be?”
Nicholas glanced at her legs again before turning to the fridge. “I thought you'd run.”
“I don't have another job lined up yet and I want to watch you shred those files.”
She's not leaving. He almost smiled. “I'll shred them all. You can watch me do it.”
“After work.”
“Whatever you want,” he said, a little mockingly. “We'll pick up dinner on the way home.”
“This isn't funny,” she said, which made him grin. “Why are you smiling at me like that? You hired someone so you could have me followed. That is seriously messed up.”
“I thought we'd already established what a sick fuck I am.”
She let out a defeated-sounding sigh. “Yesterday, you were begging me to forgive you. Now you're back to—this. What is your problem? Do you just not care?”
“I know that you're upset and that it's my fault.” He went to her, gratified that she didn't immediately flinch away. “I also know that feeling sorry isn't going to fix what I did—and that you're not cruel enough to demand tears or blood for it, however much you might like to.”
He ran the back of his hand down her face.
“Look at me. I'm a snake in a suit, and I've got you all caught up in my coils. But I'm going to make it up to you. Even if I've got to get on my knees to do it, I'll find a way to make things right.” Her eyes flickered away when he touched her mouth. “I care about you so fucking much.”
She shuddered and looked away. “Don't say that to me right now, Nick.”
Nicholas let his hand fall and took a step back.
Jay plucked at the strap of her purse. “What's going on with your case? Am I going to be involved?”
“It hasn't gotten that far,” said Nicholas. “I only learned about the call logs a few days ago.”
“Because I looked up sexual harassment cases this morning and if they really think I'm relevant to the case, it looks like they can compel my testimony and even lock me up for obstruction if I refuse. I don't want to take the stand and talk about us.”
“I meet with my lawyer this morning.” Nicholas closed the fridge. “I'll find out. If I can keep you out of it, I will.” He hesitated for a long moment. “Even if I have to settle out of court.”
“But you said you didn't do it. You'd just give them the money?”
“I'd do anything for you.”
“Anything, huh?”
“Tell me what you want. It's yours, if you stay.”
Jay sat on the stool looking down at her phone. After a moment, she slid off her seat, tugging at her skirts. “We should probably go. You wouldn't want to be late.”
He dropped her off at the Starbucks, which was beginning to feel like an unnecessary ruse at this point, and walked into his company building, trying to shake o
ff the voices telling him that it was the last time he would ever do so. So what if it is, he decided. I'll leave. Fuck all of them.
It wasn't like he had any real ties to this place. There was only one that mattered.
Renata was on her first coffee of the day when Nicholas walked into her office. He watched her sip it. This was the first meeting he could remember having with her when the ice in it wasn't already melted. “Lay it on me,” he said, when she didn't speak. “Tell me how fucked I am.”
“The case got thrown out.”
He nearly fell over. “What?”
“She hired a lawyer who wasn't really a lawyer. He'd been disbarred. One of Jon's paralegals was looking into him and found that he'd lost his license for commingling funds. It's a pretty common way to lose your law license. You're supposed to set up a trust account.”
“So I'm done.” He was unable to believe it. “I don't have to go to court.”
“No. But I would take this as a warning from the universe, given what we last spoke about. You were very, very lucky. Speaking frankly and off the record, if your ex-employee had been slightly more diligent, she could have ruined your life.”
“Anything else?”
“Just close the door on your way out.” A tense smile. “Please.”
Nicholas pulled out his phone. You're going to be fine.
What do you mean? Did you talk to your lawyer already?
It's all over, he typed. Nothing is going to happen. Case dropped.
There was a long pause. How lucky for you.
Nicholas didn't believe in God but his whole life had revolved around a warped and twisted perversion of divine right. His father had taught him that the “haves” were categorically different from the “have nots,” and he had gone through life taking everything in it as his due.
But maybe Fate, like Jay, believed in second chances.
The rest of the day was like a slow-moving river, catching him up in its lazy current. He wrote his last check to Jon, relishing the end to those numbing sessions where he would sit in that fucking storage closet of his office and have his character systematically demolished.
Annica scheduled him an appointment with HR, where he found out that Meghana had enrolled him in sensitivity training. “Given the pattern here,” she told him grimly, “it's either this or being forced to resign. I suggest you take it.”
Nicholas signed up for the training, knowing it was going to be miserable. Like traffic school for the politically correct. God, how tedious.
But worth it, for the cost of his life.
His thoughts shifted back towards Jay and how she had reacted to his confession. Part of him had expected her to start whaling on him, although he wasn't sure why he had anticipated that reaction given that she was so sickeningly nice. He wasn't sure what to make of her behavior now. She hadn't left—was it possible that she loved him?
Poor little bird, he thought. She deserves better.
Pity for her, he wouldn't give up without a fight.
▪▫▪▫▪▫▪
Jay was tired when she got off work.
She wasn't sure what to make of Nicholas's latest series of texts. Part of her was relieved that it was over and part of her was annoyed that he had managed to shirk the consequences of his behavior. He leads a charmed life, she thought, glancing up at him. Nothing bad sticks.
Arthur was overly solicitous in a way that made her wonder what, if anything, he might know. Gen and Stacey were as friendly as always but Jay had the impression that both of them were trying to pry, to figure out why her reporting duties had been swapped and what was going on. “How is Arthur?” Gen asked pointedly. “I hear he's much less of a firebrand.”
“He's fine,” said Jay, evading the question. “They're both fine.”
So many people were relying on her to be her cheerful, upbeat self that sometimes it almost felt like she wasn't allowed to experience normal emotions like anger and sadness.
She kept her smile in place all day as she scheduled appointments and answered the phone, signing off on the financial spreadsheets that Arthur had sent him and even making a coffee that he hadn't asked for but accepted graciously, but inside, she felt drained.
Her thoughts kept going back to Nicholas and everything she felt for him.
He'd stayed late today. By the time he finally got off, the office had emptied out and she was alone in the kitchen with a book she wasn't reading, wishing that all she felt for the man was mere loathing. Wishing that she didn't feel that drop in her stomach and that prickle between her thighs every time he looked at her like she were something he could devour.
“Hey, blue jay,” he said, glancing at her. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“You're a free man,” she retorted, meeting his eyes with poise. “How does it feel?”
“Like I'm ready to get the hell out of this office.” He went to the fridge and stuffed something into the briefcase that looked like a paper bag. “You ready to go?”
“What's that? A fifth of whiskey?”
“God, no. I can't stand the shit.”
“Quoth the child alcoholic.”
“It's not like I was drinking whole shots of the stuff,” he said mildly. “I just wanted a taste of what it felt like to be bad. It was honestly pretty disappointing. I told you I thought it tasted like Windex.”
“Then why the tour to show me what a demented little bad-ass you were?”
“You were pretty,” he said, shrugging. “I wanted to impress you.”
Jay wasn't sure what to say to that.
“You want to do dinner again?”
“Sure.” She hitched her purse up. “The case really got thrown out?”
“Yeah. I've been signed up for sensitivity training but I get to keep my job.”
“So you can go back to buying up huge swaths of California.”
“Maybe.” His fingers drummed restlessly over the wheel. “Arthur thinks we ought to take the company international and do some foreign investing.”
“What would that entail?”
“You shift your most profitable investments to the countries with the lowest tax rates and report losses in countries with the highest tax rates. It's like playing a shell game.”
“Seems shady.”
He made a grim sound of amusement. “I'll leave that to the legal team.”
Jay made a face. Her near brush with the law had satisfied whatever passing curiosity she might have had about the legalities of business for a while.
“Maybe it's stupid,” she said, after a pause, “but I didn't realize you were so good at what you do. Your all-hands meeting was impressive. I don't know if I ever told you.”
His mouth twitched. “Was that a compliment?”
“I misjudged you,” said Jay. “I didn't think you really cared about anything at all.”
“I care about some things.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I know.”
Nicholas pulled up in a strip mall. Jay recognized it right away. They had stopped in front of the Afghan place he'd taken her to after their first night together. He kept his arm around her waist as he ordered, just like he had before, stroking her through the thin blouse.
“I remember you,” said the man at the counter. “You two are a couple?”
Nicholas glanced at her, his gray eyes glinting under the lights. He squeezed her a little tighter. “Yes.”
“I thought so,” said the man, with a wink. “Second date?”
“Officially, I think it's the third.”
Jay could feel her face heating. “Nick.”
“She's shy.” His knuckles glanced off the side of her breast. “Get whatever you want for us, little bird.”
“Um.” She stared at the menu, feeling the heat coming off her face in waves as both men looked at her. “Is the golden lentil soup made with coconut milk?”
“It is,” said the man.
“Then could we get that, the tabbouleh, and the hummus, with some pita?�
�
“Of course.”
“I'll also take some baklava,” said Nicholas, reaching for his wallet with his free hand. Jay told herself she wasn't disappointed when he removed his arm to slip out a card. “Two pieces.”
“Baklava on the house this time,” said the man, with another wink. “For a pretty girl.”
Nicholas glanced at her, an amused smile tilting his mouth. “That's very generous.”
“Thank you, sir,” said the man, glancing at the tip, before handing Nicholas two sticky pieces of the flaky Middle Eastern pastry.
They sat in the waiting area, next to a plant. “He'd be so disappointed if he knew you weren't eating it,” Nicholas murmured. “If you want to taste it, I'll kiss you after I take a bite.”
When she looked at him, he was popping one of the pieces into his mouth. He ate the second piece much more slowly, without breaking eye contact, pausing to lick a drop of honey from the corner of his mouth. “You're going to like it.”
As soon as the food was packed into the car, he did kiss her, pulling her against him and sliding his tongue into her mouth, until the cloying sweetness of the honey and the herbal note of the pistachio were all she could taste. She did like it. She liked it too much. Jay heard herself make a noise, breathless and full of wanting, and felt him smile against her lips.
“Sweet,” he said. “But not as sweet as you.”
He kissed the corner of her mouth.
“You're wound too tight, though.”
“Screw you, Nick.”
He laughed as he got behind the wheel, sounding a little manic. Oh God, she thought, as they drove past the turn-off that would have taken them home. What now?
“Where are we going?”
“Taking a little detour.”
“Where?”
“Eden Hill Mall.”
“It's still around?” When he nodded absently, she said, “Won't it be closed?”
“Probably.”
The big gates soon loomed before them. All of the storefronts were dark.
“Nick.”
“Out of the car, Jay,” he said cheerfully, grabbing his briefcase.
It was creepy walking through the silent buildings at night. All those cold steel beams and empty glass windows gave her the chills. The night sky was cold and clear, with only a thin sliver of moon. She shook herself and raced after Nicholas, who was walking ahead like he knew exactly where he was going, which was probably nowhere good.
Quid Pro Quo: A dark stepbrother romance Page 47