The instant the chilled vodka hits the bottom of my empty tummy it’s like an orgasm. My eyes close, my breath catches, my toes curl in my heels. I hear the piped music beneath the dozens of conversations. The scents of garlic and basil, oregano and thyme fade. I moan as the alcohol hits my bloodstream with tendrils of dreamy heat. For a far too brief moment, I’m in a perfectly happy place.
“That good, huh?”
Opening my eyes, I look at the bartender, who’s grinning and leaning on the bar in a way that makes the barrier somewhat pointless. It’s not the best vodka martini I’ve ever had. Too much vermouth and stingy with the olives. Still, he’s cute and flirting, so I smile back. “So good, I’ll take another.”
“Rough day?” he asks as he flips the emptied shaker in the air and catches it deftly.
“The worst,” I lie with feeling because I know the rules. One martini after work is no problem; two is either a rough day or a celebration. Three martinis is the point when the bartender’s smile loses its luster, and four martinis is when they stop smiling altogether and ask if you’d like them to call a cab to take you home.
I realize I may get to three tonight, considering why I’m in the restaurant.
“Coming right up,” he says with a wink. His gaze shifts to a point over my shoulder, and I watch his brows raise, and his lips circle to form a low whistle. His smile widens enough to reveal a small dimple, and the appreciative look he gave me kicks up a notch for the new arrival.
My back stiffens just before the expected hand rests lightly on my shoulder.
“Hey. Sorry, I’m late,” Lily says in her breathy, girly voice that reminds me of Jennifer Tilly. “Traffic was nuts.”
I turn my head as she steps into my field of vision. She’s wearing a black mini slip dress and a gorgeous sapphire blue kimono with metallic floral embroidery. A single strand of pearls hangs from her neck to her hips, with a knot below her breasts.
She holds out her arms, expecting a hug, and the adrenaline of fear spurts palpably in my chest. I’m awkward sliding off the barstool, almost stumbling into her. Her embrace is strong and more prolonged than perfunctory, but she still ends up being the one to let go first. I hate her for that. I hate her for how the bartender looked at her and because she’s glowing from being thoroughly reacquainted with the joys of Kane’s exceptional cock. Haven’t I seen that morning-after radiance on enough of his discards to recognize it?
Does Lily remember all the lurid details I told her while she was unconscious?
“You look great!” she exclaims, raking me with a friendly head-to-toe glance. “I love your jacket.”
“Thank you.” I didn’t know I’d be meeting Lily for a drink after work, so I didn’t dress for the occasion. While she’s in happy hour attire, I’m wearing slacks and a blazer. Luckily, my outfit is one of Tovah’s picks, and Lily’s not the only one who complimented the cropped green velvet blazer.
“I love your kimono,” I tell her because I grudgingly do and am expected to say something nice back.
“Oh, thank you. Me, too. It was my mother’s.” She hangs her purse on the hook beneath the bar.
I don’t have any of my mother’s clothes. I don’t think she even owns anything resembling an heirloom like the lustrous silk draping Lily. My dear sister-in-law has it all, everything. Yeah, she had an accident and lost a few whacky years she can laugh about at parties, but really … her life is fucking perfect.
“What’ll it be, gorgeous?” the bartender asks her as he sets my new martini next to my first one, which I’ve consumed only halfway. “You two are making my night. The genetics in your family make for a fine view.”
I wait for Lily to correct him and tell him we just look alike, but she simply thanks him and orders the same thing I’m having but better – filthy, with only a swish of vermouth and extra olives.
So... Witte lied about her being a teetotaler. Why? To ruin my gift idea so hers would be better?
With a tight smile, I add him to my shit list.
“You got it.” Winking at her, the bartender adds a rap of his knuckles and has no idea his tip is decreasing by the minute. Seriously, his martinis are shit.
Lily cants her body to face me. “How’d your day go?”
I shrug and take another drink. I force myself to take a sip instead of the gulp I want. I’m getting through each workday sticking to the detox, but by five o’clock, I can’t stand sobriety another damned minute. “It was work.”
Setting her elbow on the bar, she rests her jaw on her hand, looking elegant, relaxed and engrossed in anything I might say. If she only knew what’s on my mind …
“Would you mind telling me about it?” she goads. “Kane mentioned you had a social media management agency you folded into Baharan?”
“It didn’t fold. It got digested.” I stare at her, wondering what her angle is.
She looks to the bartender as he serves her drink, then he sets a votive candle between us. The Italian restaurant sits on the corner opposite the Crossfire and has floor-to-ceiling glass windows on three sides. During lunch, sunlight floods the space enough to require window shades, but night is falling and votives twinkle on every table. While Lily focuses on sampling her drink for the bartender, who waits for her approval, I take the opportunity to knock back the rest of my first martini and shove the glass away.
When she looks back at me over the rim of her glass, I’m chewing on my lone olive.
“Kane showed me the creative for the launch of ECRA+,” she says. “It’s really impressive.”
“Thanks.” I try not to sound irritated. What the hell does she know? “I think it’s run-of-the-mill. I’m working on something better right now.”
“What aren’t you happy with?” Lily genuinely seems interested.
“Everything. The colors, the imagery, the messaging. Packaging, science and Rosana and Eva’s flawless faces aren’t going to be enough to compete in a crowded celebrity beauty space, but that’s what they’re focusing on.” I’m relieved when the bartender clears my empty glass. It looks much better with just the one drink in front of me.
“So, how do you fix it?”
I push back my irritation with her incessant questions. I like talking about my work, even if I don’t like talking with her. And as far as I’m concerned, if I answer a bunch of questions, she’ll have to do the same.
“By showing the product at work, on everyone, highlighting dermatological conditions that show improvement. Vibrantly real, untouched photos and videos.” I take another sip. She’d be horrible as a brand ambassador. “It’s not reinventing the wheel, but it’s telling people what they want to know: the product isn’t just beautiful wrapping, and it’s not just worn by influencers they admire. The product is truly a good bang for the buck.”
Her smile is luminous. “I can’t wait to see it.”
I’ve drunk enough courage. “Why do you care?”
She leans into the bar. Her legs are crossed and canted to one side; with her short dress, they look a mile long. Skin that pale should be blinding, but she just looks beautiful, like she’s perpetually lit by moonlight.
“I think we could help each other.”
My brows shoot up. Unless she wants me as her stunt double for Kane’s mattress gymnastics, I can’t imagine anything she could offer that I’d want. “How so?”
“Has Kane ever told you what I do?”
I shake my head, which is more diplomatic than saying she’s a convenient vagina to fuck.
“I meet people. If I like them and they’ve got a dream I can monetize, I help them get started.”
“You’re an angel investor,” I drawl. Does she think I’m stupid?
“Yes. When you’re smart about who you choose to invest in, it’s very lucrative. Startups need help with their messaging and social advertising, as you know. I can refer those businesses to you, you’ll help them hone their brand and messaging, and that’ll be one less thing they have to worry about.”
My gaze narrows. “What’s in it for you?”
“A ten percent referral fee on their first-year spend.”
“Only ten percent?”
She smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Keep in mind, I’ll also be rewarded on the other side of the transaction by accelerated growth and increased profits for my investments.”
Her hair has grown since I first saw her weeks ago and now brushes the top of her shoulders. She’s wearing stunning chandelier earrings of sapphires and diamonds. The stones sparkle insanely, catching the light at the slightest movement.
“Don’t forget the trifecta.” I take another sip, my foot tapping on the rail that circles the bar. “Baharan would profit on those contracts, and you’d get a cut of that, too.”
Something about her smile dims, arousing my curiosity and making me happy.
“Yes,” she concedes reluctantly, “there’s that.”
I debate saying anything, but why not let the cat out of the bag? I’ve been struggling for days, weighing whether I want to start over from scratch. Staying within Baharan means my hard work and talent will enrich Kane and Lily. So, the decision is easy: I’m getting the hell out.
“Well,” I begin, “you’re the first to know: I’m leaving Baharan and starting a new company.”
Lily’s brows lift as if she’s surprised, but … she doesn’t seem surprised. “A new company. That’s a bold move.”
“Listen, I’m not leaving Baharan in the lurch. What they’ve got in the pipeline is fine, it’s just not great, and I’m going to fix it before I focus on new ventures.”
“Why abandon Social Creamery, though? All that work, the brand, the past clients.”
I run my finger along the lip of my glass, wondering if this is what she’s been fishing for all along: getting me to say aloud what an idiot I was when I signed those papers and effectively signed over my company. “Don’t you know how acquisitions work?”
She shrugs, and the kimono slips off one shoulder in a move so perfectly seductive I wonder if she’s practiced it. “Of course, but I’ve read your agreement with Baharan. I don’t see why you wouldn’t take advantage of your exit clause. No, that’s not true. I understand wanting a fresh start. I can’t imagine working with Aliyah has been pleasant.”
I straighten on the stool, forcing myself to loosen my grip on my glass before I snap the stem. “What are you talking about?”
Her smile fades, and her brow furrows. “Which part?”
I let go of the glass entirely because I feel like throwing the contents in her face. “The fucking exit clause part!”
The frown lifts into arched curves of surprise. “Amy, don’t you know the terms of your agreement with Baharan?” she asks, slowly and carefully, like I’m a bomb that might go off at any moment, which is exactly how I feel.
I look away. I’m unpleasantly surprised to see Hornsworth, that office-stealing asshole, having drinks with a woman too pretty for him. I look away, disgusted, and feel a jolt when I find Rogelio, Baharan’s Chief of Security. He’s having drinks at a table with a guy sporting the same military crew cut, possibly another Baharan employee, but I can’t tell. And one of the girls from Accounting is having dinner with three friends.
I rein in my temper. God forbid Aliyah hears reports of me losing it again publicly.
Taking another drink, followed by a deep breath, I reply, “It’s been a while. And at the time, I didn’t think I’d ever decide not to be part of the family business.”
Lily also takes a sip of her martini, as if there’s no reason to hurry with enlightening me.
“You have the option to reclaim the Social Creamery brand twenty-four months after execution if it no longer functions as a separate entity. It’s a unique clause, very interesting really, but advantageous for you. I assumed your legal team inserted it to protect you, or perhaps Darius saw to that?”
I feel the color drain from my face. The room spins like a merry-go-round. It’s like I’ve had those four martinis and am halfway through a fifth.
“Amy.” She sets her hand on my forearm. “Are you okay?”
With a jerk of my arm, I throw her hand off. I didn’t have a legal team; I had Darius. Why wouldn’t I trust my husband? “I’m fine!”
“Let me help you.”
“What do you get out of it?” I snap, pivoting on the seat to sit face to face with her.
“We’re family,” she says simply. “You’re my sister, even if it’s only through marriage. I don’t have any other siblings. No cousins or aunts or grandparents. I have Kane and, hopefully, you.”
We’re family. I remember Kane saying something similar. It’s good to have family. Total bullshit. What have any of them done to welcome me? When have they put me first or had my back? Now Lily thinks we can sit down for drinks, and she can casually twist my mind into knots for entertainment?
“Family,” I repeat, my mouth twisting with distaste. “Did Kane tell you he screwed me? For a good twelve hours straight, I’d guess. Time kinda blurs when you’re locked in a non-stop orgasm. Does that make us an incestuous family?”
She’s calm and cool, unruffled by my anger. “He told me, yes.”
I want to grab her by the hair and slam her face into the bar.
“I’m sorry.” She looks me in the eye so that I can read her sincerity. “And you’re right to call me out for being facetious. I want to help you because you’re a woman who’s lost some power, and that’s dangerous. I want to help you because I want to make amends. Kane hurt you because of me. He’s a grown man and responsible for making his own amends, but I can still feel regret for his pain and how that pain affected you.”
“Oh, great. Just what I need. Your goddamn pity.” I take a big swallow, relishing the burn in the pit of my stomach. I gesture for another drink.
“Reject my pity,” she says. “Accept my help. I’ll revise my offer. Instead of taking a referral commission, I’ll invest directly in Social Creamery, or I can offer a loan.”
“I can get a fucking loan!”
Her eyes never stray from my face as she takes another sip.
“Did Kane put you up to this?” I force myself to dial back my temper. She’s totally in control of herself and this conversation, and the madder I get, the more I look like I can’t hold my own. “Or is this all your idea? Get me out of the office so Kane doesn’t see me daily? Is that why he hasn’t come back to work?”
“I don’t worry about Kane being around any woman. I don’t say that to be cruel. It’s just the truth. And you and I being at odds only helps Aliyah. I’m not your enemy, Amy, or your rival. We can help each other and come out ahead. That’s all I’m proposing. If we can find our way to being friends or allies, I’d like that, too.”
A voice in my head tells me she’s right, that I can use someone on my side. I could certainly use an influx of cash. I don’t know what to think about Darius anymore. When I’m with him, I’m sure he loves me. But then there’s all this other shit. Could he possibly be ignorant of an exit clause? Has he been stringing me along? Why?
Lily’s posture has changed subtly. It’s not something I can put my finger on, but there’s the sense that she’s settled into her element. She’s powerful, confident, sexy. I can see why Kane’s such a lunatic over her, and I understand why I’ll never have him again. At least not while she’s breathing …
“I’m sorry I’ve been … abrasive,” I say tightly, knowing it’s best to wear my Lily guise. I’m powerful, confident and sexy, too. I roll my shoulders back and manage a smile when the bartender takes my empty glass and presents me with a new drink. He doesn’t smile or even make eye contact. “I’ve had a few rough days recently, and this is a lot of information to digest at once.”
“It’s fine,” she dismisses with an artless wave of her hand. That stone Kane gave her catches the light, and I realize it’s the reddish-purple color of a human heart. “You don’t have to apologize. Trust is earned, and I’m happy to earn yours.”
I imagine her heart beating in my hand, strong and sure, never anxious or afraid. Then I close my fingers, feeling the rubbery flesh give under pressure until hot blood the shade of her lipstick runs down my forearm and drips from my elbow.
As delightful as that fantasy is, my pulse is racing, and a distant part of my mind registers my panicked thoughts. I need to read the contract. I need to know what it says. I lick an icy vodka droplet from my lip. I don’t even taste the vermouth anymore, thankfully.
“What time is it?” I ask.
“Almost seven.”
“Oh! I have to go,” I lie. Because I can’t sit here another minute, making small talk, feeling inadequate and exposed. Feeling like a moron. I have to act and take control.
I have to be Lily.
Sliding off my stool, I grab my martini and gulp it down. “I’m sorry to run off like this. I didn’t realize the time.”
Lily’s smile seems fragile around the edges. “Maybe we could do this again sometime soon? And not talk business.”
“I’d like that.” I lean forward and press my lips to her cheek. I hold them there for a beat too long because she smells so good. I wonder if she notices that I’m wearing the same perfume. I wonder if she misses her long hair and covets mine. Her skin is soft and plush beneath my lips. When I pull back, she has a lip print on her face the same shade as the lipstick on her mouth. “Bye!”
Digging in my purse, I toss cash on the bar and rush out like I’m in a hurry. I wave my arm at the curb, and a cab cuts recklessly across lanes to reach me. I hop in and pull out my phone, looking through my contacts for Ramin’s address. As Baharan’s CLO, he can find out what is in the contract if he doesn’t know offhand. By the time I tell the driver where we’re going, he’s already rejoined traffic.
Ramin lives in the trendy Meatpacking District, in a three-story brick building that was once a warehouse. When the driver pulls over and says we’ve arrived, I search for the street number because I can’t quite believe it. I expected something sleek and modern, like his office, all chrome and deep, dark masculine colors: rust and forest green and navy. His building is more industrial, with awning windows that most residents have open.
I pause on the sidewalk, firming my balance and twisting my hair into a lobster clip to get it off my hot neck. Traffic was horrific, as it always is at this time of night. You’d never think two and a half miles could take forever to drive. It took so long that the alcohol has well and truly kicked in, yet it also feels like my buzz will disappear at any moment. I need another drink.
As I move toward the entrance, the doorman rushes to push it open for me. “Hey, Lily. How’s it going?”
I’m startled by being called the wrong name, not to mention the coincidence of being called the one he used. I look at his badge. “My name’s Amy, Dev. Can you let Ramin Ar—”
“I called up already,” he interjects, looking at me strangely. “He’s expecting you.”
My dry eyes burn, and I squeeze them shut for a minute. I have to open them again quickly because I’m a little unsteady on my heels. Why the fuck can’t Lily be of average height?
I start through the lobby, but it branches off to each side, with two different elevator banks. “Um … which way?”
Dev frowns back at me, his big grin gone. “To the left.”
“Okay …” I wave at him over my shoulder and veer to the left. I recheck my phone for the floor and condo number.
The elevator is more like a service elevator than one for residents and guests. Since the doorman’s desk was also heavily industrial, I guess that’s the aesthetic. Once I exit the car, I see concrete floors treated to look like stone lining the hallway. My heels click like gunshots. It takes me a minute to figure out if I should head left or right, then I’m standing in front of Ramin’s with my finger arrowing toward the doorbell.
Before I can push it, the door swings open.
“Hey.” Ramin is positively commando in jeans he hasn’t bothered to button; the carefully groomed dark hair at his groin is visible. “I was getting really worried.”
“Huh?”
He steps into me while I’m still too baffled to ward him off, slinging one hard arm around my waist and tugging me into him, his lips sealing over mine. I stand frozen, shocked, disoriented as he takes my mouth as if it belongs to him, his tongue thrusting deep and circling. He groans softly, and his chest vibrates against my breasts.
“It’s been almost two weeks,” he complains, resting his forehead against mine.
“Get your hands off of me.” Come to think of it, he’s been weird at work, too. Stopping by my office and asking how things are going. Every. Single. Day.
He pulls me inside and shuts the door behind him. “What did I do to piss you off? Because I don’t have a fucking clue, and I’m sick of being punished.”
I step into the living room. It’s a loft space, massive, with awning windows on three sides. He must’ve bought the apartment next door and combined them. In one sweeping glance, I can see his bed against the far wall, the dining table and kitchen, and the space he’s mapped out as the living room with a rug, sectional sofa and open-cubicle entertainment center that serves as a divider.
Candles flicker on the coffee table, and two glasses wait, with a bottle of wine in an ice bucket.
I spin around, wanting to get on my way before his latest slut shows up. “I won’t keep you long.”
Ramin’s gaze narrows. “That’s what you’re going to say to me? You don’t come over. You don’t call. I’m stuck here thinking about my brother fucking you, and when you finally show up, you’re already planning to leave?”
My whole face pinches tight with confusion. “Are you on something?”
“I wish I was.” He goes into the kitchen.
I follow. He pulls a glass out of the cupboard, grabs a bottle of vodka out of the freezer and pours himself a drink. He doesn’t offer me one.
“I don’t know how long I can do this,” he says wearily, leaning his hip against the island with one ankle crossed over the other.
I’m not a nun. I’ve slept with the man before, so I know what it’s like to be under him. Ramin fucks like he’s making porn. I can’t say I didn’t find it exciting in its way. And he’s attractive, I’ll give him that. Cuter than Darius, nothing like Kane. He’s more compact, his body thickly muscled. He wears his hair in a rakish sweep across his forehead and usually has a three-day beard shadowing his jaw.
Reaching down, he pushes his hand into the open fly of his jeans and adjusts himself with a taunting stroke. “You just come over to stare?”
“For fuck’s sake.” I turn away, taking in his condo again, even though what I want is his drink. The sounds of the city at night pour in through the open windows. There’s something visceral about the noise. It makes me edgy. “You drafted the agreement to acquire Social Creamery, right? Or was that someone else in Legal’s job?”
He doesn’t answer right away, so I turn back to him. He’s straightened and put his drink down. The lazy challenge is gone.
He’s sharply watchful. “I wrote it up. Why?”
My hands go to my hips. I teeter a bit on my heels and step out of them, even though I know that will make it more uncomfortable to put them back on. Ramin’s gaze darkens.
“Lily tells me there’s an exit clause.”
His eyes slit, and he comes toward me. “Lily read the agreement?”
“That seems obvious.” I roll my eyes. “Is she telling the truth?”
“Kane’s given her access to everything then,” he says, his barefooted stride fluid and graceful.
I wish I’d kept my shoes on because now I feel petite and vulnerable. “You’re not answering the question.”
“You already know the answer.”
“The fuck I do!”
His face flushes with anger. “We’ve discussed it a dozen times! I’ve been telling you to get out for over a year.”
I stare at him for a long moment, chilled by the weight of a heavy fog that squeezes me from all sides. My tongue is thick and dry in my mouth. My heart is hammering against my rib cage. As Ramin comes up to me, I skirt him and head to the island. Snatching up his drink, I take a deep swallow. The iced heat slithers down my throat, and I lean heavily into the counter. I feel sick. I haven’t eaten since lunch. Bile flavors the back of my throat, threatening to spread into my mouth.
When Ramin wraps himself around me from behind, I don’t even twitch. His nose and mouth nuzzle my hair. “I’ve missed you, baby. Whatever I did to piss you off, I’m sorry.”
It suddenly hits me: they’re all gaslighting me.
It’s a concerted effort. Kane, Aliyah, Darius, Ramin. Maybe even Clarice. She’s been a good little soldier for Baharan for years now. Is Lily in on it? She’s the only one who’s told me the truth. Or maybe it’s lies.
Why? What’s the point? What’s their endgame?
My breath catches as another possibility enters my mind. What if Lily’s a victim, too? Maybe Kane drove her crazy. What if her dissociative amnesia was brought on by him screwing with her head? Not just with his champion ability to mindfuck but maybe with some chemical formula of his dad’s that he pulled out of a dusty shoebox.
Maybe I’m unknowingly participating in some clinical trial for a new drug. Something for the mind. Alzheimer’s. Dementia. Schizophrenia. What if I’m just a guinea pig?
How do we get away? Lily already managed to once, but Kane found her. She wasn’t dead. He knew he’d track her down eventually. That’s why he kept all her clothes. And once he found her again, he had guards at the hospital and penthouse so that she couldn’t get away a second time.
How did she get out tonight? They must have wanted her to. Maybe they’re testing me to see if I’m trying to escape. I’ll have to be careful until I know for sure.
Ramin’s hands are trespassing everywhere, rubbing between my legs, kneading my breasts. He’s lapsed into porn star mode. His dick is so hard. He’s dying to fuck me. He needs my hot little cunt wrapped around his dick. He can’t wait to blow his load inside me.
Perversely, the nipples he’s tugging so well are hard little points, and a trickle of warm arousal is sliding through my pussy. I don’t think about it or how good Ramin smells. How do all the Armand men smell so deliciously, seductively male? Another sinister use of Baharan R&D? Some sort of aromatic roofie? My eyelids and limbs grow heavy.
I can’t let them know I’m on to them. I’ve got to play along until I know enough to take them all under. With that in mind, I sway in a sinuous half-circle to face Ramin and close my eyes as he kisses me with bruising force.