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I spin in my seat, ready to rip the son-of-bitch who dared enter a private conversation without permission a new one. Leaning against my doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and legs crossed at the ankles is Otis, with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Who the hell is Devin?” CJ asks at the same time I bark, “Back the fuck off, Otis.”
“First, she’s the girl from the club,” Otis says to CJ. “Second, not a chance, asshole. You hurt her the other day with your dismissive attitude. And I get it. You’re in an impossible situation, but I think I’ve come up with a solution to your problem.”
“Wait a minute, I thought Amber was the girl from the club,” CJ cuts in, his brows pinched low together in evident confusion.
“Devin is the girl who pissed off Amber,” I say mindlessly, never taking my gaze off Otis. “What solution?” I ask him.
“Marry Devin instead.” He says it so simply, so matter-of-fact, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.
A hysterical bubble of laughter snorts out of me, and I nearly drop my glass. “You’re fucking joking, right?”
“Why would I joke? It’s clear as fucking day that you like her, and it was obvious to anyone who was paying attention the other afternoon that she’s rather taken by you as well. I don’t see the problem here.”
The idea is tempting. I’ve never liked Amber, she only wants me for what I can provide for her. As long as I have money, she’ll be content. But Devin, she doesn’t know anything about my fortune, and, according to Otis, she’s at least interested in me, the man, Cole.
“Cole,” CJ cuts in, a warning note to his tone. “You go against the board on this, and you will lose the company your family left for you.”
Images of showing up at the office three months after the lock in at Club Rapture flit through my mind. Taped to every wall, desk, and chair, and littering the floor, were images of me arriving at the club. Of me talking to Devin, sharing a drink with her, and the brief intimate moment we shared before parting ways. Of moments with my partner that night, which were meant to be private. And the one thing I regretted most from the morning after; kissing Amber in the parking lot.
Blinking back to the present, I finally get it. It doesn’t matter what I want or what I think I might want. To maintain the legacy my parents left behind, I’ll have to sacrifice my future. “Relax, CJ, before you pop a blood vessel or something. I hardly know Devin. I have no interest in getting to know her. And you don’t have to keep reminding me how serious this blackmail is or what’s at stake. I know what the board wants, and I haven’t forgotten what it’ll cost me if I don’t play along.”
Standing from my seat on the couch, I walk over to the minibar and top off my glass. With an aggravated grumble, I continue, “I have every intention of following through the board’s … requests.”
Devin
Walking up the stairs of the old factory in the garment district of Manhattan, I’m floating on cloud nine. It’s been an amazing few days since the guys crashed back into my life. Otis’ texts are full of smutty but witty humor, and Dante’s surprise drop-ins are becoming somewhat of a habit, one I’m not fighting too hard against. Though, nothing has happened since the brief—albeit hot interlude—with Dante in his studio three days ago. But for the first time since I can remember, I don’t feel like I’m crawling out of my skin, like a junky waiting for my next fix of flesh. I feel content and at peace inside my own skin.
My phone chimes in my pocket and I quickly fish it out, secretly hoping for a text from Otis.
OTIS
What are you doing?
ME
Just getting home from work. About to walk into my apartment.
OTIS
That means your home and safe. Good to know.
ME
I am. What are you doing?
OTIS
Looking up new stupid jokes to share with you. Wanna hear one?
My smile widens and my body feels lighter with every text.
ME
Of course, share away.
OTIS
