Owned By Fate (6 page)

Chapter Seven

Caroline and Eliza sat side by side in a back room at the New York Stock Exchange, waiting for the cue for
Preston’s Financial
to ring the opening bell, an engagement that Eliza had been accompanying her family on since college. An assorted fruit and bagel platter had been provided for them, but she and Eliza had left it untouched on the coffee table, continuing to feed the silence instead of their bellies.

Friday night had ended with her dragging a bemused-looking Eliza out Serve’s door. Apparently Caroline hadn’t been the only one to get a taste of the club’s brand of entertainment, but her best friend continued to remain stubbornly closed-lipped about her own upstairs experience. After an awkward conversation wherein they both ascertained the other was neither harmed nor required medical assistance, they’d both gone straight home. Do not pass go, do not collect much-anticipated dumplings.

For her part, Caroline’s stomach was full to bursting with knots, since this would be the night her Date with a Dom happened. She still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to an evening with Jonah Briggs wherein the expectation of sex not only existed from the outset but happened to be the main focus of the night.
Not
her article, as should have been the case. The article her father had informed her this morning he wanted to be flat-out negative. He wanted Oliver to drop the merger idea once and for all and wanted Caroline to achieve it with a few taps on her laptop keyboard. Knowing what was expected of her professionally—maligning Serve for all intents and purposes—made her want to cancel on Jonah, to simply call Serve and leave a curt message with the bartender like a coward. But just for one night, she’d love to forget about the pressure resting on her shoulders. To let loose that fluttery hormonal part of her that had been craving fulfillment since that night with Jonah. The part that felt a dark, undeniable anticipation.

Not just any fulfillment, either. She’d tried it the…manual way. Technically, it had worked, even if it hadn’t been easy with her puppies in bow ties screensaver staring her in the face. It had been pathetic in comparison to what Jonah had coaxed from her body, leading her to admit one indisputable fact. She wanted,
craved
Jonah. He’d grabbed hold of her libido and shaken it like a snow globe. Now the little particles, twisting and shimmering behind the glass, refused to settle.

He wanted to show her his world, prove it wasn’t as depraved as she thought. But how could she write an objective article when he planned to steal her objectivity? Had already stolen some of it? Her sex life, up until this point, had consisted of a few third-date consummations, all of which had paled in comparison to Jonah simply sharing air with her. Whether she liked it or not, their chemistry was extreme, to a level she’d considered a myth until now. Worse, she found herself wanting to know more about him. Her weakness for contradictions had been far from satisfied during their two encounters. In fact, it had only ballooned. A man who went from playful to imploring to sexually formidable within seconds…he intrigued the hell out of her.

And then, there had been that unforgettable hint of vulnerability. Just after she’d told him their connection to each other wasn’t healthy, career-wise or personally, right before he’d put his hand up her skirt, she’d witnessed just a brief flash of sorrow. If she had to guess, she’d say he’d heard those words numerous times. Knowing she’d been part of a pattern in any way made her feel slightly ill. Regretful, even.

None of this should matter in the slightest. Tonight, she would get this longing for a man who equated to career suicide out of her system. She would find a way for the attraction to make sense and move on. Get back to what her focus
should
be on. Saving
Preston’s
while finding a way to soften the blow when she vetoed her brother’s plan.

First, however, it was obvious her best friend needed her.

“Normally by now, we’d have made this bagel assortment our bitch.” Caroline made a halfhearted attempt to smear cream cheese with the plastic knife. “What could possibly lessen your desire for free carbohydrates?”

“Huh?” Eliza’s vision cleared. “Just not that hungry.”

Okay, that was concerning, considering Eliza liked to eat as much as she did. “Come on,” Caroline pressed. “You’ve been quiet since Friday night. Spill it. Did Gavin Rossdale teleport you back to the nineties and force you to model scrunchies?”

“
I’ve
been quiet?” Eliza sat up a little straighter and reached for a slice of kiwi. “You still haven’t told me what sent you running out of Serve mumbling about lollipops and feather dusters.”

Caroline winced. She had zero recollection of said mumblings. “Er—you go first?”

Eliza rolled her eyes, stalling as she chewed. “Fine. There may have been a…misunderstanding of sorts. Between Gavin and me.”

“If that was really his name, I’m straight up moonwalking on this table.”

“It might have been.” Eliza gave a strained smile. “Never asked for his actual name.”

Caroline nodded, without a hint of judgment on her face. After all, hadn’t she waited until she and Jonah were pressed against each other in the elevator to get
his
name? “All right. So what was the misunderstanding?”

Eliza’s cheeks flushed. “I might have…allowed him to believe I’d been there before. Upstairs, that is. Quite a few times, at that.”

Caroline slowly laid down the plastic knife. “You went upstairs with him, letting him think you were experienced in”—she lowered her voice when a group of people walked past their open door—“
that
sort of thing?”

Her best friend nodded, once again looking numb. “Yeah. He explained that each floor has a different intensity level. First floor being the lightest, third being heaviest.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I told him I preferred the second floor. Medium is the safe choice, right? I have no idea what the hell I was thinking. Except that I wanted an adventure.” She shook her head rapidly. “God, that sounds so stupid now.”

Caroline was stunned by what Eliza had been keeping to herself. “What happened?”

“When we started discussing limits, I think it became pretty obvious I had no idea what he was talking about. I booked it.” Eliza groaned at the ceiling. “We didn’t even make it to the elevator, although that’s probably a good thing, since I wasn’t even cleared to go upstairs.”

Caroline waited until Eliza looked at her. “Hey, stupid would have been
not
booking it and going through with something you weren’t comfortable with.” Jonah’s voice whipped through her head, asking for her safe word, asking her to trust him. She’d never once felt apprehensive. There hadn’t been room for it among the heat. “You did the right thing. Nothing to be embarrassed about, Eliza.”

“Thanks,” her friend mumbled, clearly not convinced.

“So you, uh…have to be cleared to go upstairs?” Caroline picked up the knife again and attempted to saw a sesame seed bagel in half. “No one cleared me.”

Laughter bubbled from Eliza. “
You
went upstairs?”

“Hmm.”

“Were you gagged and kidnapped? It’s the only way I can imagine that happening.”

“No, but I hear they do that sort of thing on the third floor.”

Eliza smirked. “Come on, Ro. Details.”

Caroline was saved when Oliver strode into the room, as usual looking like he’d just showered and thrown on the closest suit he could get his hands on. If she didn’t love him to pieces, she would have scowled at him for making the polished-yet-tousled look seem so effortless. His blue gaze bounced from Caroline to Eliza and lingered appreciatively, something she’d grown used to. Her brother made no apologies about his love for women. It was kind of sickening, actually, the effect her brother had on the opposite sex, and her best friend had never been completely immune, no matter what she tried to convince herself and Caroline. Even now, she could feel tension radiating from Eliza from two feet away.

“Hey, Ro.” He picked up a slice of apple and popped it into his mouth, never taking his eyes off Eliza. Kind of like he wished the apple were Eliza instead. “New haircut, Bunny?”

Her friend eye-rolled the nickname he’d given her in college, but she didn’t succeed in completely hiding her pleasure. “Thanks for noticing, playboy. I’m surprised you can keep track with all the haircuts coming in and out of your life.”

He smiled, but it wasn’t as light as usual when someone inevitably reminded him of his player status. “You know you’re in a class all by yourself, babe.”

Sensing something different and definitely concerning in the air, Caroline started to change the subject, but Oliver beat her to it.

“Thought any more about the merger?” he asked her. “It’s getting close.”

Her smile felt like it might crack. “I guess we’ll see how the article goes tomorrow.”

“I guess we will,” he murmured. “You met Jonah Briggs the other day, and you’ve been to Serve yourself. Both of those things should be enough to provoke a relatively positive article. I can count on you to be honest, can’t I?”

“Of course.” When Oliver scrutinized her, she glanced away quickly before he could see the guilt in her eyes. Thankfully, an assistant wearing a headset entered the room, saving her from any further questions. “We’re ready for you.” He tapped his watch. “Three minutes to opening bell. Your father is already in place.”

With a final glance at Eliza, Oliver followed the assistant from the room. Caroline and Eliza rose from the couch to follow. On their way through the door, she turned to Eliza to remind her that while her brother was an amazing person, she couldn’t take his flirting seriously. The last thing in the world she wanted was for her friend to get hurt. But Eliza spoke first, laying a hand on her arm. “Don’t think you’re getting away without telling me what happened upstairs at Serve. I expect a full account later.”

She blew out a breath. “It’s a long story. And unfortunately, it’s not over yet.”

After tonight, though, it would be. For good.

…

Jonah set down the pink paint–coated paintbrush and looked around the garden-level space in the Brooklyn brownstone he’d purchased last month. He tried to picture a kid running around or sprawling on the rug in front of the television, but he couldn’t do it. What did that even look like? Did an eight-year-old girl require kid-proofing, or had Gabby moved beyond that?

Buying the apartment had been wishful thinking on his end. While Gabby’s mother, Renee, seemed grudgingly grateful for the monetary support he provided, visitation had been a definite no-go so far. In purchasing this place, he hoped to bolster his chances of eventually earning that right. Even if those visits were limited to an hour, supervised or not, this was the only home she would ever associate with her father.

Not having been even remotely acquainted with the area, he’d been assured a dozen times by his realtor that this neighborhood, miles away from Serve and all it represented, was one of the most respected, family-oriented sections of Brooklyn. His short walks every few days from the train had confirmed it. Parents and nannies crowded the sidewalks, shuffling children in plaid uniforms to school, reminding them to ask questions in class and eat their lunch. Tree-lined streets were kept immaculate, casting shade on historic homes. He wondered what his neighbors would think if they knew who had just bought a home next door. Money, at least, didn’t discriminate.

Sighing as he paced through the living room he’d spent the month furnishing himself, Jonah decided he’d chosen well, considering he knew nothing about family dwellings or what they should contain. The two-bedroom apartment was large but not monstrous. Comfortable. Dust motes swirled in the mid-afternoon sunlight, filtering in through the high windows to illuminate hardwood floors. Sunlight. Something he’d only just realized his other apartment was sorely lacking.

Jonah stepped back into the smaller of the two bedrooms, wondering once again if he’d picked the right shade of pink at Home Depot that morning. For all he knew, Gabby hated all shades of pink and preferred gray and black. Like him. God, what he wouldn’t give for a woman’s opinion here. Caroline’s face materialized in his head, and he almost laughed. She’d probably be too horrified at the idea of him wanting visitation with his daughter to form an opinion on paint samples. Well, she’d have to get in line.

Jonah’s past self might have felt the same way once upon a time. His daughter had been the product of a one-night stand. He’d met Renee in a bar in Washington, DC, the night before he shipped out with the Navy. His mind had already been a million miles away from the monotony of his dead-end construction job. He’d been careless and made an uncharacteristic error in judgment. One he’d worried about immediately after, before the memory of it got swallowed by the promise of making newer ones. Changing his scenery for good. That night, nine years ago, had blurred in his memory the way most nights from his early youth had. Sleeping on his uncle’s couch from the age of three. Parents gone and never spoken about except for the occasional drunken rant from his uncle. Those years when he’d been driven, yet lacking in direction. Lost and determined at the same time.

He’d left that morning without a thought, Renee passed out in a jumble of sheets. And he hadn’t heard from her since, until she’d visited New York six months ago with her boyfriend and ran into Jonah when they both tried to hail the same cab. One minute later and he might never have known.

The news had knocked him on his ass. That same day, before she’d found out what he did for a living, Renee had emailed him a photograph of Gabby. There had been no mistaking her resemblance to him. She was his daughter. And she’d spent the first eight years of her life without any knowledge of her father.

To a man whose own parents had left their child to be raised by an indifferent uncle, Jonah had been beside himself. He’d contacted Renee the following day and asked if he could meet her, but she’d adamantly declined, having Googled his name and found out about Serve. After months of sending Renee money and trying to reassure her that he wasn’t a moral threat to their daughter, he’d broken down and hired a lawyer. It had been a last resort. For one, he sensed Renee didn’t have the money for legal expenses and that financial burden could negatively affect Gabby. But he couldn’t continue to send money when he didn’t even know if the money was benefitting her. And money didn’t make him a part of her life. When he’d been Gabby’s age, he would have turned down a million dollars just to have a father to take him fishing like the other kids at school.