THOMAS
I finished my morning run earlier than usual, dropping out of the Central Park loop onto Fifth Avenue to meet my driver. He stood next to the car, holding a white towel draped over his arm.
Carl was an older man from the Bronx, a US veteran working beyond his service to keep food on his family’s table, and he was one of the kindest people I’d met since arriving in New York.
A throng of nattering pedestrians shoved past him, causing his Yankees baseball cap to hit the ground.
I swallowed hard, my throat tight, the cords in my neck straining. My body was tense and my mood still dark despite the run. It wouldn’t take much to rouse the anger idling at the bottom of my gut.
Anger was my constant companion, always waiting for someone or something to fuel it. Impulsive, heated reactions had always defined me, and curbing the instinct was hard as hell. I’d had to do some hard-hitting shit in my twenty-eight years, but I couldn’t make excuses any longer. It was time to grow the fuck up.
Time to stop living in my brother’s shadow.
Time to stop coveting all that he had.
His life.
His wife.
Time to move on and create a legacy of my own.
While touring apartments, I’d imagined how the energy and the opportunities that Manhattan offered would provide the distractions I needed to move forward. Three weeks in, and the constant noise and dense population only irritated me, making me long for the sprawling streets of London, where mainstream society was more introverted, more tolerable.
The truth was, I didn’t want another meaningless distraction. I was tired of wandering the streets in search of shit that never satisfied me. I’d had my fill back in England, and it was foolish to pretend that more money and sleeping around in another country were the answers to my restlessness.
The craving tormenting me was deeper than that, more primal. The nameless desire upended everything in its path, pushing me to the edge of obsession, as it had done to my brother and our father.
I need to find her, the one who belongs to me.
The single-minded thought often consumed me. It was a grim ballad, performing over and over in my head. But if you looked beyond the darkness framed by the words, it was straightforward and lovely.
She was out there somewhere, her name and the sight of her face withheld from me like some cruel joke. I dreamed that her eyes were perfect storms of innocence and longing. She would own me, the one with those eyes.
And I would ruin her. Choosing to be at my side, in my bed, living the rest of her life with a man like me would profoundly change her.
A group of men near my car abruptly grew quiet, their questioning glances drawing my attention. They parted as I walked through the center of their stupid fucking suit-and-tie collective and snatched up Carl’s hat from the pavement.
I was glad for the anonymity in the moment, though it was only a matter of time.
Over the next few days, the details of a major leveraged buyout that I’d executed would become public, and people would stop wondering when they encountered me. Everyone in the Financial District as well as in the affluent neighborhoods would know my name.
Moving to New York had been personal for me, but it was also part of a strategic business plan for the global expansion of our London-based private equity company.
A decade earlier, my brothers had founded Hastings Group, sacrificing years to cultivate a family-owned business that was now worth billions. After our oldest brother, Ethan’s, recent death, I’d made my own substantial investment in the partnership stakes.
Will and I were starting up several new international operations, and I was more than pleased to conquer a slice of Wall Street’s pie. More money in our pockets was certainly the objective. Money was power, and everyone wanted more power.
But the challenge of securing that power and the compulsive creative effort it required was what truly motivated me. And because we already had money, my brother stayed in the game for high-level connections and public influence.
Carl took his favorite ball cap from my hand and nodded to convey his gratitude, placing it back onto his head. He handed me the towel. “Coffee, sir? I know a shop just a few blocks east that has a smooth dark roast and a good breakfast menu. There’re shirts in the storage compartment.”
“Thanks, mate.” After wiping the sweat from my neck and downing the rest of my water, I rotated my wrist to check the time. “Yeah, okay. There’s a stretch before my first meeting this morning.”
I pulled on a clean T-shirt and scrolled through email on my mobile phone as he circumnavigated the one-way streets to reach our destination.
He pulled up to the curb in front of Jack’s Coffeehouse. “Enjoy your breakfast. It looks busy from the street, but there’s plenty of space inside. Jack’s a nice guy. Friend of mine from the service.”
Six weeks before my arrival, I’d hired Carl to drive my executive car—a custom Escalade. He’d helped me find the car and supervised the vehicle conversion.
“Can I get you anything from inside?”
He raised the metal thermos he carried along each day and tapped on it. “The wife’s special blend. Still hot. Thank you, sir.”
I nodded, stuffed my wallet into my joggers, and popped out onto the pavement with The Wall Street Journal tucked under my arm.
A woman in her early thirties greeted me from behind the service counter after I pushed through the glass entry door and began reading the menu above her head. “Make yourself at home. Order here when you’re ready,” she said.
“I’m told your dark roast is quite good. I’ll have a cup now, the soft scrambled plate—four eggs, four slices of buttered toast—and a takeaway cup, ready in twenty minutes.”
She smiled as she wrote down the order. “Got it. What’s your name? For the coffee to-go, I mean.” She dispensed coffee into a ceramic mug and handed it to me. “How long will you be in town?”
It was obvious that I was an outsider. Not to mention, a foreigner.
“Chris,” I snapped like a prick, giving her the shortened version of my middle name.
I pushed my credit card into the machine until it beeped and then found the nearest wall to put my back against while waiting for the food. I lifted my mug, blew at the steam, and drank while scanning the surroundings, one table at a time, until my eyes landed on a blonde sitting alone.
She held a letter in one hand and a slice of toast in the other.
She was beautiful.
I watched her. I couldn’t stop. Her loveliness was rare and enchanting and painful. As I claimed the thick wooden table closest to hers, a pretty smile curved her lips. The weight of my stare alarmed her then because at last, she lifted her innocent gray eyes from the letter she was reading to search for me.
For a minute, nothing else existed.
In the following minutes, with our eyes locked, every goddamn thing existed. Base emotions raged inside me, and it had to be obvious, but she didn’t turn away. She stayed with me, her wide eyes offering the obedience that I would demand if she were mine.
I won. She could be mine.
Ah, but this one was different. She deserved better than one night.
I smiled and gave a wink to disrupt the connection between us, to let her go.
Fuck if she didn’t lower her lids and then hit me again with those eyes, suggesting she wanted something more from me. She didn’t want me to let go.
Christ, I wished she hadn’t done that.
As if to save her from me, our mobiles announced messages at the same time.
I forced my attention away from the blonde. She wasn’t the one. I couldn’t allow myself to hurt someone like her.
It was getting late, my executive assistant’s text message reminded me.
Good morning. Mr. Jensen in one
hour. Your office.
I seldom replied to Janie’s text messages. She was able to see that I’d read them. She understood that if an urgent message went unread for an unacceptable amount of time, she should call me directly.
Checking my watch, I realized how quickly time had gotten away from me. I glanced once more at the pretty little reason for it, her eyes now focused on her own mobile phone.
A server set my plate in front of me. I crammed eggs and toast into my mouth, folded my unread copy of the Journal, leaving it behind for the next person, and headed for the counter to collect my coffee.
The barista had called out my name.
I reached for the tall paper cup while reading another incoming message from Janie.
Market update. 15 minutes before
the Jensen meeting. Your office.
Shit. I still needed to pop by my apartment for a shower.
Another hand—softer, smaller—reached for the same cup, closing round mine.
The blonde from the table.
She looked up from her bag, revealing those perfect eyes at close range.
“Your name is Chris?” I asked.
“Yes. No. I mean, yes, it’s mine,” she said.
“Is it the name or the coffee that belongs to you, beautiful?”
“The coffee is mine. The name doesn’t matter.” She rotated the cup in my hand. “See? Coconut milk with brown sugar. It belongs to me.”
She was spirited, determined, and it triggered me, made me grin.
I released the cup but not without taking something from her first, brushing over her skin with the back side of my fingers. “It matters to me. I’d quite like to know your name now that we’ve established it’s not Chris.”
She hesitated. “My name is Katie.”
“I’m Thomas.” I gestured for her other hand.
“So, your name isn’t Chris either?”
“Christopher is my middle name.”
Katie nodded and offered me a sweet smile instead of her hand. “Thomas Christopher. That’s a really good name. It’s nice to meet you, but I’m running late. See you around.”
She was out the door before I could stop her. I hadn’t been prepared for her to run out the way she did.
I should let her go.
It was too late. The compulsion driving me was stronger than my conscience. I followed her outside, calling out her name.
She kept walking.
I watched her, the swing of her hips enough to make me ache.
“Katie, wait,” I shouted.
Katie didn’t turn back. She disappeared into the foot traffic, leaving me stunned.
What the fuck?
No woman had ever walked away from me.
The barista stepped out onto the pavement with my coffee. “Here. You forgot yours,” she said. “I recommend tomorrow’s fair-trade Costa Rican. Stop by at the same time.”
A smile flashed onto her face before she went back inside.