Fifth Avenue Box Set: Take MeAvenge MeScandalize MeExpose Me Read online

  “She’s safe,” Austin said.

  From Jason, anyway. Even if she wasn’t strictly safe with him. He would make sure he kept his hands off. He would.

  “Good.”

  “Do either of you have any leads? Any contacts?”

  “I’m working on an idea,” Alex said. “I have a connection that I’m thinking could be made a bit tighter.”

  “Good. Let me know if you find anything. Hopefully we can reconvene and pool what we’ve found into something that resembles actual evidence,” he said, drawing a hand over his face and wishing he had some alcohol to dull the ache that was spreading through him, starting at his chest and working down to his fingertips.

  A little alcohol could replace that with numbness.

  Of course, he’d want a scotch. Which brought him back to the source of the ache.

  He got off the phone with Alex and Hunter and stalked out of his office and down to the living area, going to the bar and pulling out a bottle of whiskey that he could hardly muster any enthusiasm for.

  He poured some into a glass and knocked it back, wincing. It burned now. And if he drank enough, it would pound on him tomorrow.

  So he decided to go ahead and make that a goal. A little suffering. For his sins.

  And for the sins of the father.

  How poetic. The world’s most damn poetic hangover.

  It was better than thinking of those pictures. Better than remembering how Sarah’s eyes had sparkled before his father had come in and stolen them.

  Better than wanting the woman upstairs.

  Yeah, anything was better than reality. And tomorrow his head would hurt so bad the rest of him might not hurt at all.

  * * *

  “I’d imagined you’d be at work,” Katy said, pausing in the doorway of the kitchen when she saw Austin, sitting at the small breakfast table by the window, his chin in his hand, his eyes red, a cup of dark coffee in front of him.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He looked like she felt. Exhausted. Defeated. The brackets around his mouth carved deep, pulled down into a frown. Lines around his eyes showed how tired he was. His dark hair was rumpled, like he’d been running his fingers through it. Over and over. He was a mess. And he was beautiful.

  “Not today,” he said, his voice rough. “I don’t have a case. Right now. I’m shoving off as much work as I possibly can because I have a timeline ticking on this thing with my father.”

  “You look like hell.”

  “I feel like hell, too.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I drank a lot. And this morning I’m paying for it. As planned, I might add.”

  She frowned. “Okay, two questions. Why?”

  “Because I was in the mood to punish myself. And if you have to ask why to that, you haven’t been paying attention to the fact that I’m into some weird shit.”

  She felt her face get hot at the mention of the sorts of things he was into. She remembered them well. “Question number two—do you drink like this a lot? Because you were drunk the night we met. And you got smashed last night, which is only the second night I’ve spent near you. I have a low tolerance for addiction and self-destructive behavior and I don’t particularly want to be around yours.”

  “I don’t usually drink like this. I promise.”

  “Those pictures...”

  He winced. “I drank a damn lot of alcohol to try and forget them. So I don’t really want to discuss them at the moment.”

  “They were of my sister. They’re hardly my favorite thing of all time.”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “You did care about her,” she said, realizing the truth as she spoke the words.

  “I did. She was my friend. One of my best friends.”

  “How did you meet her?” she asked, coming a little bit farther into the room but still keeping her distance.

  “When I first got to Harvard, I was rooming with a bunch of guys I’d never met before. Hunter Grant—”

  “Her Hunter,” Katy said quietly, remembering the way Sarah had lit up when she’d spoken about him.

  “Yes,” Austin said. “Alex Diaz, who’s a big-shot journalist now. And Zair. The spare to a sultanate somewhere in the Middle East. At least that’s how he described it. As though the details didn’t matter at all, because what’s interesting about being Middle Eastern royalty?”

  “That’s...an eclectic mix.”

  “It was. Anyway, Sarah was in a dorm the block over from ours. She and Hunter connected quickly. And...then she was just a part of us.”

  “Did she like school?”

  “Yeah, she seemed to. She excelled. She always had a lot of friends, more than just us. Even when she and Hunter were serious, she was friends with a lot of other women. She didn’t talk much about her childhood, but after what you said yesterday...” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t know how bad it was.”

  “It’s why school mattered so much,” she said. “Why the life she was building at Harvard mattered so much. People like us don’t get those chances, but...she did.”

  “And she did well.”

  “She...she was happy?”

  “For a while,” he said, thinking of how sad that last year had been. She and Hunter splitting up. How distracted and dull she became.

  The calls for help he missed. And the one he’d ignored.

  “I’m glad to hear that because I just need to be able to think of her having some happiness. Our life was... Well, it sucked.” She walked over to the table and stood behind the chair across from Austin’s. She didn’t quite want to just sit down with him. Not yet. “I always hoped she had some real happiness in those few years away from us.”

  “She did.”

  “She should have had more,” Katy said, angry now. “She should have had a lifetime of it.”

  “Yes, she should have. And that’s why we’re stopping this. Because no one should ever be put in the position she was put in. Never again.”

  Their eyes locked, a short burst of electricity sparking between them. She didn’t know how that happened. How they were able to talk about the most dire, horrible things and still feel the current between them.

  Shame crawled over her skin. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. How she could want him now. How she could want him the way she did.

  It was twisted.

  “So, what am I supposed to do here?” she asked, gripping the back of the chair. “Unemployed and living with a stranger.”

  “A stranger?”

  “Yes. A stranger.” She met his eyes and dared him to disagree. He didn’t.

  “Well, obviously you’ll be working for me. If anyone asks what you’re doing here. And by anyone, I mean Jason or one of his cohorts.”

  “Living with you and working for you?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “You have a good point there. So why is it you think that you would live with me after meeting me at a party, sleeping with me, then losing your job?”

  Her face heated. “No. You have to be joking.”

  “Hopefully we won’t need the excuse. But there’s every chance we’ll be seen together. And there’s every chance you’ll be discovered living here. In which case, why make up an awkward, convoluted story?”

  “But what a fricking coincidence! You’re suddenly doing it with Sarah’s sister?”

  “Had my father connected the two of you yet?”

  “Probably not. I didn’t work for him. I worked for someone else. There’s a very good reason I put myself in his general vicinity and not in direct contact. But finding out would be easy. As you said yourself. I mean, that’s why you’re so worried about my safety. That’s why I find myself homeless and jobless.”

  “At least you’re here and not alone,” he said. “At least you’re under some kind of protection. My building is secure. You’ll be safe with me. The alternative is to have no protection at all.”

  “But in this scenario, you and I are somehow together just when
you’re looking to reconcile with your father? Wouldn’t the entire thing scream ‘setup’ to him?”

  “You’re missing something very important in my father’s character,” he said. “In the character of every man who strikes up a deal with him. These are men who buy and sell the bodies of young women. Who have set up a modern-day whorehouse in a law office dedicated to protecting women from unwanted advances.”

  “So they’re assholes. I get that.”

  “No. What you don’t get is the arrogance. You’re just a woman—one related to Sarah, in point of fact. How could you possibly be involved in bringing my father down? When he holds all the cards. When he has all the power. He is above the law, above suspicion. He can see men jailed for sexual crimes then go straight back to his office, rifle through a file and sell a girl he has ‘on staff’ to one of his buddies. He believes he is smarter than all of us. Better than all of us, but you most of all. Because you were poor. Because you’re a woman. And he would never believe, even for a moment, that you could outsmart him.”

  She swallowed, her throat dry, her body feeling weak. Shaky. “He thinks all of that?”

  “You know he does. Look at what he chooses to do in order to get into the spotlight. All while abusing his power behind the scenes. He’s a comic-book villain.”

  She laughed, a hollow, breathless sound. “Well, that’s a good thing. Because I sort of consider myself to be Batman.”

  “Really?”

  “Sometimes tragedy turns us into superheroes,” she said. “Or, if not that, then maybe twisted vengeance monsters hell-bent on some form of justice. Even if it’s the vigilante sort in the end.”

  “He’ll underestimate you, Katy. He’ll underestimate me. And that will be where we win.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “If he starts to suspect...” Austin smiled, an empty, dark expression that seemed further removed from the traditional meaning of a smile than any frown ever could be. “Well, I’ll just remind him that an apple rarely falls far from the tree. After all, he liked your sister. I like you. I bet he’d enjoy that.”

  A shiver went through her, a chill crackling over her skin like spreading frost. When he said it like that, she almost believed it was true. That his seduction of her had been calculated. That his desires were somehow connected to those of his father.

  And in a moment, the darkness was gone, and he was back to looking pissed off and hungover.

  “Anyway, I think it’s covered. If his natural arrogance fails, it will be easy to come up with a story. I could say you were working for me, but then if you were discovered to be living with me, in the public eye, I really might tar myself with the same brush. Better to just have it called what it looks like.”

  “I’m not, though,” she said. “Sleeping with you.”

  “No.”

  “And I won’t,” she said, as much for herself as for him.

  “The horse sort of left the barn already.”

  “What are you, a cowboy lawyer?”

  “Hardly.”

  “Yes. Okay. Granted, that horse left the barn. But it’s restabled and it’s locked back up. With an electrified fence. And it’s not getting back out.”

  “Would it be so bad if it did?”

  There was no cool disinterest in his eyes now. It was all heat. All desire. And she wanted to reach out and touch the flame.

  She curled her hands into fists.

  “So bad,” she said, clenching her teeth together. “So wrong.”

  “See, I happen to know you like bad, so I’m not sure if this is an invitation or not.”

  “Are you still into it? After knowing that your father was having sex with my sister, using her, are you honestly still okay with...us?”

  He drew back as though she’d slapped him, the fire burning to ash in his eyes. He shook his head slowly. “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. Because you do seem like you might be a decent guy. And like you did fall far from the tree.”

  “Do I?” he asked, his voice raw.

  “Yeah. You’re not as charming as your father. He oozes it. But it’s like oil you can’t wash off after. After talking to him...I feel like I’m covered in a film I can’t shake.”

  “But you know how he is.”

  “Yes. I do. But you aren’t the same. Just...trust me. You aren’t.”

  “You have a lot of confidence in a strange man you hardly know. Since we’re going with the ‘I’m a stranger’ story.”

  “Sometimes when everyone around you that you know is a horror show, you have to take a chance on the stranger, right? And gut instinct.”

  “I hope yours is right.”

  She blinked. “Are you telling me you don’t trust yourself?”

  “I think, all things considered, trusting myself would be the most dangerous thing I could do.”

  A shiver went down her spine. She didn’t doubt his words. But, for some reason, right or wrong, they felt like they were part of the same game they’d started the night they’d first met.

  And she had to stop thinking that way.

  “All right. Noted. No trusting you. I’ll keep a shiv on my person at all times.”

  “And I’ll keep my distance.”

  “So what am I supposed to do while I’m here in your penthouse, playing mistress of the manor?”

  He arched a brow and looked her over, his gaze hot, assessing. “You could bake me a pie.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Vacuum in high heels and pearls?”

  That should not turn her on. It should make her want to punch him in the throat. Instead, she pictured him coming up behind her and...

  Well, never mind.

  “This is the part where you get shanked, my friend.”

  “I’m just offering up helpful suggestions.”

  “Well, you can put a cap on that anytime.”

  “You asked.”

  She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Do I have house rules...or...?”

  “Whatever you like,” he said, standing and wincing as a shaft of light crossed his face. “I do have to go to work. If only for a few hours.”

  “Great. Well...I’ll hold down the fort. But I won’t vacuum your fort. Or bake pies in it. So you can just let go of that fantasy right now.”

  “Katy, for the time being, this is your home, too. I don’t expect you to adhere to any rules.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Where did controlling Austin go?”

  He took his suit jacket off of the back of the chair and slipped it on. “He only comes out at night.”

  The rough edge to his voice, and the promise laced in those words, sent a little spike of longing through her that came to rest at her core. Which was so stupid because she was supposed to be shaking off the attraction. He was supposed to be helping her shake off the attraction because he was supposed to shake it off, too.

  “Well, then I will limit my interaction with you to daylight hours.”

  “Probably for the best.” He looked her over, quickly, but she felt it burn over every part of her. “Yes. Probably for the best.”

  Chapter Six

  It had been a miserable day at work. Because every case he’d reviewed, every potential client he’d spoken to, had made him think of Sarah.

  Had made him think of Jason.

  Every woman with a bruise and sad eyes. Every woman with stubborn pride who sat there, rigid, hating to admit the things that had been done to her, as though they were her failings in some way.

  Even the print screamed at him. Documents that detailed abusive relationships, sleazy bosses. Hell, the standard divorce cases were calling up dark emotions. But he was in a pretty dark place, really.

  Austin took his tie off and started up the stairs, the faint sound of a thumping bass the first indicator he had that something was weird.

  He frowned and slipped his jacket off, draping it over his arm as he started to work on the buttons on his cuffs.

 
The music was coming from down the hall.

  He passed by Katy’s door, which was closed. The music wasn’t coming from there. His frown deepened as he went toward his own bedroom, and the music got louder, mingling with the sound of running water.

  What the hell.

  He pushed the door open and was greeted by a rush of humid air and more discernible pop music. He was pretty sure the lyrics were talking about taking a ride on a man’s disco stick, and all things considered, it was about the last thing he wanted to hear.

  There was no door on the bathroom, only an entry area, then the sinks, and in the back and around the corner, the toilet and the shower.

  He walked through the room, which looked undisturbed, his bed still made, everything in its place.

  Yes, the song was definitely a thinly veiled euphemism.

  He gritted his teeth and walked into the bathroom. There was makeup all over the countertop. Makeup and some sort of heat-related device for a woman’s hair. He didn’t know what it was called because he’d never lived with a woman he wasn’t related to, and he’d never had the desire to ask what sorts of things they did to get ready.

  There was wax, too. A big pot of it with a Popsicle stick sticking out of the top of it.

  She might as well have taken a stamp that said woman and put it all over the room.

  He rounded the corner to the shower area and saw a pair of pink panties hanging from the towel rack, along with a polka-dot bra and, beyond that, the shower, which was still running.

  The shower, like the rest of the bathroom, was open, with the main part of it concealed by tiled walls.

  He was about to say something. Let her know he was there, something. Then he saw her round the corner and her eyes went wide when she saw him. She jumped and slipped.

  He reached out as quickly as he could and caught her by the waist, her body bowed backward, her stomach flush against his pelvis. She was wet from the shower, completely naked and breathing hard.

  The only sounds in the room were the running water and the music now.

  “You okay?” he asked.