“He’s not going to know what hit him,” I murmur, a smile tugging up one side of my lips.
Lana nods. “No. He won’t. I just hope this all works out in your favor.” She gives me a pointed look.
I nod, but deep down I know this has to work. There is no other way.
Wanting to change the subject, I shift the conversation to something else that’s been bothering me. “Do you ever get the feeling someone is watching you?” I ask casually, though saying it out loud makes me realize how stupid it sounds.
Lana’s brows furrow. “No... Why?”
“It’s probably nothing. I’ve just had this weird feeling lately.” I shrug nonchalantly even as a shiver works its way up my spine.
Lana’s face falls, a look of pity flickering in her eyes. Wrapping her arms around me she pulls me into a hug. “You’ve been through a lot,” she says softly. “Give yourself some grace.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I lean into her, trying to forget the incident she is talking about. “You’re right. It’s probably nothing. Just me being paranoid.”
After settling into my parents’ West Village apartment, I head out to shop.
I have plenty of clothes, but nothing that fits the corporate image I’m aiming for. I need clean lines, sophistication, and confidence. A wardrobe that says, I belong in the Maxwell building.
At Neiman Marcus, I’m running my fingers over a soft, expensive,perfect, silk blouse when my phone rings.
Shoving my hand in my purse, I pull my phone out, smiling when I see ‘Mom’ flashing on the screen. I swipe, answering the call. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hey sweetheart, what are you up to?”
“Shopping.” My fingers keep trailing the fabric, imagining it paired with a sleek skirt.
She laughs. “Like mother, like daughter. I’m out, too. Want to meet your father and me for dinner? Gramercy Tavern at seven?”
“Sounds good.”
“Where are you? I’ll come meet you and Rolland can take us to the restaurant.”
“Neiman’s. I was about to head to Saksactually.” I glance at my Rolex.“Can we meet there in an hour?”
“Level four?” she asks, already knowing.
“Women’s clothing,” I confirm, smiling.
“Perfect. See you soon,” she says, before ending the call.
Sliding my phone into my bag, I grab the blouse in my size, and head to the cash register feeling more determined than ever.
Evan Maxwell has no idea what is coming for him.
Chapter 3
Evan
Tonight is boys’ night.
Once a week, my friends and I indulge in these nights. Just like our infamous escapades at Elite–the city’s most exclusive sex club – it’s one of the only timeswe drop the façade and just exist as ourselves.
But unlike Elite, tonight is about unwinding. No expectations, no pretense, just expensive cigars, aged whiskey and a couple hands of poker. The venue and host rotate each week and tonight it’s Harrison Archer Lauder III, Anais’s brother and my best friend’s penthouse apartment I’m walking into.
As I step into the entryway, low voices and the faint hint of smoke greet me. I move further into the apartment, smirking when I find everyone already gathered. It’s a long-standing joke at this point, I’m always the last to arrive unless I’m hosting.
“Ah, Maxwell. Nice of you to join us,” Nathaniel Rossi drawls, his grin sardonic.
