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Chapter 1
The sound of tires screeching and an engine roaring had Hannah Sawyer jolting to attention in the parking lot. From silence to thunder, and in less time than it took her to blink.
Before her, her brother and his dick of a best friend’s company gleamed in the sunlight. And by company, she meant it. This wasn’t just a ‘building’. It was a complex. A whopping five million square feet of reflective windows that made her eyes burn as the sun reflected upon the shades, where military-level secrets and hot shit technology combined to create cars that belonged on episodes of the Jetsons. In fact, she thought even George would be amazed by what went down in these hallowed walls.
Before she could shake her head in surprise—yet again—that her older brother was co-owner of this insanity, she glowered as a bright, cherry-red car squealed to a halt at the front doors.
The squeal was followed by a rip-roaring holler that she immediately recognized.
Aidan, her brother was cool and calm. Not exactly staid, because still waters certainly ran deep, but very chill. In comparison to his business partner, James Arias, he was boring as hell.
Hannah loved her brother. He was a confidante, always had been, and they’d been close since they were little despite the five-year age gap. This company was a vital part of him, and his work took up most of his days. Sure, he had his little thrills, things that would have any man getting giddy, like season tickets to his favorite teams—with private boxes and front row seats where it mattered most. But at heart, he was a geek.
James Arias, however, worked on a whole other scale.
Bland, boring… no. Those were not words that would ever describe James. Mainly because he was an adrenaline junkie par none. Throw in the fact he could buy and sell the President of the United States, was renowned for his engineering flair and his ability to throw a wild party… well, everyone looked uncool in comparison to James.
Not that she approved.
The guy was a jerk.
It didn’t matter how many holiday dinners he attended at her parents’ house. Once a jerk, always a jerk. Even if said jerk looked ridick cute in the fugly sweater she’d bought him last Thanksgiving—a Reindeer complete with a nose that glowed thanks to a battery pack he had to smuggle in his jeans’ pocket. Sure, he’d been game to wear that monstrosity, but it didn’t mean she had to like him.
He was bad news. Always had been.
She’d been crossing the parking lot toward the building when the new-model Arias car had slalomed onto company property. Only James would have no shame when handling what she knew was a prototype. That information alone told her that, even as she jumped at the squeals the car was making, she’d be crossing paths with him far sooner than she’d intended.
When he leaped out of the car, a huge grin on his face from the adrenaline of speeding around land belonging to him—which meant he could do whatever the hell he wanted, when he wanted—she had to admit, the bastard was cute.
And when he clamped eyes on her, the astonishment on his face didn’t make him look a doofus. If anything, he looked even hotter. His hair was like gold. Seriously. Gold. She couldn’t make up the color if she tried. It was so many shades of bronze and blond, silvery highlights and dark copper strands, that it should have looked like he’d spent a good ten hours a week in the salon. But he’d had gold hair for as long as she could remember. Plus, no stylist was so crazily good.
Even when it came down to looks, nature had been kind to the dick. Not only did he have hazel eyes that could cut through a woman’s defenses before she could do little more than giggle, he was tall—closer to six-two than six-five—had the body of a gym bunny, and constantly wore suits that were like a female version of porn.
In fact, scratch that, he was walking porn.
There, she’d said it.
But if looks hadn’t been enough of a blessing, then there were the five billion blessings he’d had in his bank account since he’d gained control of his trust fund.
She couldn’t complain too much about that. With that trust fund, he’d plowed nearly two-thirds of it into her brother’s whacko genius brain, and Arias was the result. Though the investment had been all him, he still gave Aidan a fifty percent share.
The jerk could be generous.
She’d never said he was all bad, but neither was he as great as everyone thought.
