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It was a small, stupid thing, but the fact that he called it my profession even though I hadn’t published anything made my heart squeeze a little.
For that alone, I let his earlier ambiguous comment slide. “I wasn’t a big reader growing up, but I was going through a hard time a few years ago and needed something to take my mind off what was happening.” Work stress, the flaming fallout from my last breakup, seeing all my high school friends get engaged and realizing my father would never walk me down the aisle…it hadn’t been a good time. “One of my old coworkers lent me her favorite thriller, and the rest is history.”
Some people escaped into romance, others into fantasy, but I found thrillers oddly comforting. Sure, I was lost in life and scraping by on minimum wage in one of the most expensive cities in the world, but at least I wasn’t trapped in a cabin with a psychopathic husband or on the run from a serial killer who was obsessed with me.
It was all about perspective.
“Now all I have to do is finish my own,” I said. “Then I can quit and kick Victor Black in the balls without worrying about losing my job.”
Kai’s smile notched up another inch, but his eyes remained serious behind his glasses. “You’ll finish it.” He said it with such unflinching certainty that my heart stilled for a split second.
“How do you know?” I hated the note of self-doubt in my voice.
I’d always been the social butterfly, the person who cheered my friends on and pushed them to step outside their comfort zone. But there were nights when I lay awake, stripped of all confidence and pretense, wondering who the hell I was and what I was doing. Had I chosen the wrong path? Was there even a right path for me, or was I destined to drift through life like an aimless ghost? No meaning, no purpose, just day after day of routine and drudgery. A life wasted on bad decisions and short-term highs.
The familiar vise of anxiety clamped around my chest.
“I know,” Kai said, his calm voice pulling me out of my poorly timed existential spiral. “Because you’re too strong not to. You might not think so, but you are. Also…” A glint of mischief cracked his sober expression. “You tell great stories, condom varieties notwithstanding.”
He laughed when I tossed a cocktail napkin at him.
Heat seared my cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the warmth flooding my veins.
I was seeing a different side of Kai, and I liked it. Too much.
More than I should.
CHAPTER 11
Kai
Itook Clarissa to the Valhalla Club’s annual fall gala for our first date. It was a risky move, considering how big the event was, but I couldn’t put it off any longer. The messages from my mother piled up by the day, and I needed to take my mind off a certain brunette with a penchant for impropriety and a smile that’d lodged itself into my consciousness.
So far, it wasn’t working.
“This branch is so different from the London chapter.” Clarissa swept her eyes around the gilded ballroom. Last year’s gala theme focused on the Roaring Twenties; this year’s paid homage to ancient Rome, complete with towering marble columns, a miniature Colosseum, and free-flowing wine. “Our parties are less…ostentatious.”
“New York is Valhalla’s flagship. They like to show it off.” I glanced at the far side of the room. A crowd had already formed around the bar, blocking my view of whoever was on duty tonight.
I’d resisted checking whether Isabella was working the gala earlier, but now, I wished I’d given in to my earlier temptations.
Clarissa was perfectly nice. Unlike our awkward reunion at Monarch, our conversation tonight had flowed easily from our favorite hidden gems in London to the latest world news since I picked her up half an hour ago. She also looked stunning in a pink Roman-style gown and diamonds; more than a few guests had cast admiring glances at her on our way in.
Unfortunately, no matter how hard I tried to focus on Clarissa, my attention remained divided between the woman standing next to me and the woman who’d taken up residence in my thoughts.
My jaw tightened at the memory of Victor’s sleazy hands touching Isabella. I wasn’t one for violence outside the boxing ring, but seeing him grab her had incited a dark, burning rage that’d made me want to tear his arm off and feed it through a wood chipper.
Thankfully, he’d returned to D.C. and wasn’t in attendance tonight, or I’d be thrown out of Valhalla myself for murdering another club member.
I ran a hand over my mouth and forced my mind elsewhere. It was neither the time nor the place for violent fantasies.
For the next hour, Clarissa and I circulated the room as I introduced her to the other members. Some she already knew. The international jet set was small, and they gathered at the same glittering social events every year: Cannes, the Legacy Ball, the Met Gala, New York and Paris Fashion Week. The list went on.
Dante and Vivian were here, as were the Laurents, the Singhs, and Dominic and his wife Alessandra. Even the Serb made an appearance, though he left after only a few minutes. I was surprised he’d showed at all; the unsmiling, unspeaking tycoon rarely showed his face in public. He’d joined Valhalla last year, and I hadn’t heard him talk once. I made a valiant effort to avoid the bar, but when Clarissa excused herself to use the restroom, I couldn’t resist a quick look. The crowd had cleared, and I found myself scanning the length of the room for a flash of distinctive purple.
Blonde hair, red hair, silver…violet.
My breath stilled. Isabella stood at the end of the bar, talking to Vivian. High ponytail, sparkling eyes, unfettered grin. Somehow, she made her simple black uniform look better than any of the expensive designer dresses on display tonight.
