Page 55 of Boardroom Mask

The city is loud from up here. Horns, construction, a siren or two. It sounds a lot like the chaos in my head, actually. The wind is cold and it cuts right through my suit jacket. I don’t mind that, funnily enough. The cold keeps me from getting too comfortable, and comfortable is the last thing I deserve to be right now.

I drink straight from the bottle and watch a barge cross the river, losing myself in numb thought for a little while. I don’t realize there’s someone behind me until they’re almost on top of me.

Footsteps on gravel. I brace myself, but it’s not Lukas.

It’s Rae.

Maybe I’m not the only one having a shit day. My former assistant looks pretty fucked-up, too. She’s standing about ten feet away, arms wrapped around herself, and shivering because she’s not wearing a coat. Her eyes are red and her cheeks are wet. She’s been crying. I know what crying looks like on a woman now. I’ve become something of an expert this week.

I can’t blame her. She’s had a hellacious month. I had a role in that, I know—she used to be my executive assistant, after all. And one bad night at the beginning of November, when I was messed up in the head off booze, drugs, and angst, I deluded myself into thinking she was the answer to my problems. She wasn’t, of course, and I should’ve seen that. It didn’t go too far, thank fucking God—but that’s only because my fatherintervened and made her life way worse than I ever could have done.

It would have been bad enough if Lukas had simply taken her away from me that night. He went farther, though. He’s made her his little pet. At the Lazarev Global charity gala last Saturday, he contrived a whole fake date auction just to get her on stage in front of all of New York’s richest and most famous assholes. I tried to save her from him, but he outbid me, throwing five million dollars out just to prove he was the big swinging dick in the room. Since then, he’s taken her off my floor, moved her to his, and gave her a job that doesn’t exist, simply because he can.

That’s Lukas. He doesn’t just beat you. He makes you watch while he does it.

“… Kir?” She sound surprised to see me, like she’s not quite sure I’m real.

I almost laugh at the sight of her. Of all the people in this building, on this day, it had to be her. The fact that she’s a dead ringer for my dead mother doesn’t make my psychological shit any easier to deal with.

“Rae.” I know I sound awful, but at this point, there’s no hiding it. “Fancy meeting you here.”

She sits down next to me. Not too close, which is wise on her part. She’s already learning the risks of fraternizing with the Lazarevs.

“You look like hell,” she observes.

“That’s funny. I feel like it, too.” I lift the bottle and take a pull, then hold it out to her. “Want some?”

She doesn’t answer. She just looks at me, and I can feel her cataloguing the damage. My wrinkled shirt. The untucked everything. The bruise on my cheek that’s gone yellow-green at the edges, courtesy of my father, who smacked me across the face after the gala to establish his authority when I dared to tell him that I had no interest in murdering Jillian Pierce. As we all know, I lost that argument—badly.

“Kir,” Rae whispers, “what happened to you?”

I laugh in a way that’s harsh and grating even on my own ears. “What do you think happened?”

“Your father?”

“Give the girl a prize, folks.” I clap a few times, slow and sarcastic, then take another drink. “Though I suppose, technically, he already did. Five million dollars’ worth.”

She flinches. “I didn’t ask for that.”

“I know.”

And I do know. That’s the worst part. Rae didn’t ask for any of this. She showed up to a job, did it well, and had the misfortune of catching the attention of not one buttwoLazarev men. One of us wanted her. The other one wanted to make sure the first one couldn’t have her.

She never had a say in any of it. Poor thing.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Doesn’t matter, though. You’re his now. That’s how this works.”

“I’m not his,” she says feistily. “I’m not anyone’s.”

I look at her, and I wish I could tell her that she’s right. After all, she’s a grown woman who can make her own choices, and my father doesn’t own people.

But that would be a lie, and I’m too drunk and too tired to lie to anyone except Lukas right now.

“You don’t get it yet,” I say. “But you will.”

“Get what?”

“He’s going to ruin you, Rae.”