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Chapter 3
Zariah
By the time I picked up Ciana and we arrived at the restaurant where we were meeting Patrick and his friend Daniel for our double date, my phone had no fewer than twenty new texts from the unknown texter. Around text number fifteen, I’d programmed the number into my phone as BP. Since I’d always called Nolan “ballplayer,” it was safer to use those initials than his actual name just in case one of my brothers saw the messages.
The only person in my family who knew about my history with Nolan Krenshaw was my sister, and she may never have known about him if I hadn’t needed her help in gathering the funds to pay off Joel Krenshaw when he’d threatened to sell my nude photos to every tabloid in the country. Rich, my family may be, but at nineteen, getting my hands on five million in cash had been difficult, to say the least. Especially when I’d needed to keep the reason for the need for so much a secret from my parents.
Just remembering the look on Nolan’s father’s face when I’d dropped that duffel bag full of money at his feet and he’d handed over what I’d later realized was Nolan’s phone and not his own, made me shudder. There were people I disliked, some I even hated, but Joel was at the top of my list of people I wanted to die a slow and painful death.
Once my sister and I walked into the restaurant, our personal security at our sides, I spotted Patrick immediately. Since Nolan, it could be said that I’d developed a type. I avoided anyone even remotely athletic and went straight for the boring, rich, preppy guys. The ones who drove expensive cars, cared more about their looks than I did on occasion, and were overall boring as hell.
Patrick was just that. He was a stockbroker on Wall Street, drove a hundred-thousand-dollar car, and was, without a doubt, one of the biggest douchebags I’d ever met. Boring he might be, but he was also a creep. It didn’t escape my notice that he barely gave me a once-over before practically drooling over Ciana. The fact that I didn’t give a single fuck about it—other than being sorry I had put my baby sis in this position—was confirmation that Patrick wasn’t for me.
It was kind of sad, really. None of the guys I dated lasted past the first week. A few had lasted longer, but that was only because our schedules were too complicated, and our second or third dates were spaced out so far between each one. Pathetically, I knew why none of those guys had made it long enough to meet any of my family. I hated admitting it to myself, but my heart still belonged to Nolan.
There was no sign of Daniel, Patrick’s old college roommate. The place was crowded, so we all stood off to the side, waiting for our tables to be ready. Needing two tables so that our bodyguards could sit close to give us the protection our parents demanded twenty-four seven, while still offering some semblance of privacy, made dining out more difficult.
While Patrick introduced himself to my sister, I finally took a glance at all the texts from Nolan.
The latest was time-stamped only minutes before, and my eyes narrowed angrily as I read each word twice.
BP:Your silence doesn’t bother me, Red. I can still see when you read each message—you always did keep your read receipt option turned on. Every time you would be pissed at me, I would know automatically when “Read” popped up but you wouldn’t text me back.
It was true. I did keep the option on, and not just as a warning to him. Everyone in my family knew that I was upset with them if it showed that their messages were read but I didn’t immediately text them back or avoided it altogether. But I hated that Nolan remembered that about me.
I hated even more that I remembered every single detail about him after so much time had passed.
As I reread the last text, a new one popped up.
BP:You’re the best lawyer I know, Zariah. I need the best. But if you’re scared to face me, I’ll just have to find the second-best.
Obviously, he still remembered what to say to push my buttons, because of anything he could have said, that was the one thing that would ensure I exploded.
Me:I’m not scared to face you or anyone else, motherfucker. It’s you who should be scared of seeing me face-to-face, because I will beat you unconscious with your own bat if I ever see you again. Whatever you did, you only have yourself to blame. It’s not my job to keep you out of trouble.
BP:She speaks!
I rolled my eyes at his immediate reply.
BP:I’ll pay you whatever you want to handle this for me. You know you want to tear into the Boston owner. It will make you a hero to all of your brothers. And then you can get me on a New York team. Don’t tell me your little bros wouldn’t be stoked if I was pitching for the Yankees. They might hate the Red Sox, but they understand talent and who can get their favorite team to the World Series.
“He’s such an ass,” I grumbled to myself, putting my phone away. But I knew he had me baited. I just wasn’t sure if I would be caught on his line and reeled in yet.
Even if part of me wanted to fix this for him, just to show him I really was the best. He’d always praised me, but he hadn’t seen how good I’d become since he’d shattered my heart and nearly destroyed my entire world.
Trying to push all thoughts of my ex out of my head, I turned my attention to my sister and date. “Patrick, where is your friend?” I asked.
He dropped my sister’s hand and smoothly slid his arm around my waist. The moment he pulled me in close, the scent of his cologne overpowered my nostrils, and I felt a headache begin to develop. “Daniel is making sure our table is ready, babe.”
I pushed away from him, rolling my eyes. “Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t a fan of your cologne?” I was sure I had. It was way too strong a scent for me to tolerate when it could so easily trigger a migraine. “Fuck, you smell like you bathe in it. That’s such a turn-off. Isn’t it, Ciana?”
“Less is definitely more with that scent,” she agreed distractedly. I noticed my sister side-eyeing someone but couldn’t tell who because the lobby was too crowded. But I didn’t have time to scan every face before Patrick spoke again.
“I’ll be sure and wear another fragrance next time, babe,” he assured me. His obvious embarrassment didn’t even faze me. After Nolan, I’d turned into an ice queen when it came to the men I dated and their feelings.
My phone vibrated in my hand again, and I knew without looking it was my ballplayer. “Asshole,” I muttered. Unfortunately for Patrick, I turned my annoyance at Nolan on him. “Yeah, I don’t think there will be a next time, Patrick. You’re just not what I’m looking for. I thought by bringing my little sister tonight, I would be able to stomach another meal with you, but honestly, you aren’t worth either of our time.”
I linked my arm through Ciana’s and signaled our guards that it was time to go. Mine gave a nod, letting me know he was going to step outside to alert our driver. But as he walked away, I was aware of Patrick stepping into my space.
