Chapter One
A quick temper will make
a fool of you soon enough.
Bruce Lee
Seven years later….
Lucy is laughing at me.
Why? I don’t know, but I do know that Lucy and laughing are never good things—both separately and together. I’ve only met her once, but I’m pretty sure she’s a nutcase, and I’m also pretty sure bad news stalks her like Norman Bates does his mother.
The last time I saw Lucy, I helped her fake fiancé kill nineteen well-armed men, aided in the takedown of a high-ranking board member for a Fortune 500 company, and had to lay low in the fucking boonies for a month.
I just got back from Nowhere, Oklahoma—seriously, that’s what it’s called. And I don’t want to have to go back to Nowhere.
Now, Lucy is standing in my living room, uninvited and unannounced. It’s kind of like last time, except Asher isn’t with her. Speaking of that dumbass, he wants to marry her for real. So, why is his girl standing in my living room?
And how the fuck does she know where I live?
Last time she was here, I was sure to take precautions to prevent this very situation. I stuck her in a box, and when it was time to move her again, I had one of my men drive us around aimlessly for half an hour.
Yet, here she stands—in the middle of my living room, a disgusted expression on her face as she eyes my overnight bag, which is caked in hardened Nowhere, Oklahoma mud. I have no doubt my tanned skin and dark hair are equally repulsive after a month of unreliable shower water and body wash as shampoo.
She shifts her gaze onto my face. “I heard you’re back.”
There’s a tilt to her lips that’s more smirk than smile.
I’m immediately suspicious.
“…Okay…” It’s clear in my tone that I don’t know why she’s here, and I don’t want her here.
In fact, I don’t even know how she’s here in the first place. I have a state of the art security system. Even though my guards have been off-duty given my absence, she still shouldn’t have been able to break in.
What the fuck is she?
Houdini with a nice rack and a homicidal fiancé?
There’s that irritating grin again. “I picked your door lock.”
“There’s no door lock.”
To get into my house, you need to bypass the retinal scanner and hand print lock. And on the off chance that happens, there’s an alarm that needs to be disarmed with a passcode upon entrance and panels under the floor that measure the gait print of the person walking on them.
But you know what there isn’t?
A door lock.
Lucy is up to something.
I know it.
Her grin widens. “I know, but you should’ve seen your face.” At my scowl, she laughs. “Relax. Gosh, you’re wound up so tightly.”
In the backdrop of the wainscoted walls and hardwood floors in my brownstone, Lucy looks like she belongs. Dressed in a white dress that compliments her pale flesh, evergreen eyes, and black hair, I wouldn’t guess that she came from the foster care system.
In fact, I only found out after a deep web search I conducted once I learned her real name—Elena Lucy Reeves. Before that, the search I had done towards the end of last September had come up empty.
Nothing.
The woman was a ghost.
No social media.
No employment history.
No birth records.
Now, after surviving three very public attempts on her life; setting a wedding date with Asher Black, the Romano family’s former fixer and the CEO of Black Enterprises; and publicly humiliating René Toussaint, the former CFO of Black Enterprises, Lucy is one of the most well-known women in the tristate area.
Which means she’s only making my situation worse by being here.
She needs to get out of here.
Now.
In fact, I wish she never got in here in the first place, and as soon as she leaves, I plan on rectifying that situation immediately.
“How did you get in?” I repeat, my patience waning.
Well, it was never there in the first place, especially when it comes to this woman. Inherently curious and abnormally intelligent, Lucy isn’t someone I have the desire to deal with. How Asher does it is beyond me.
She shrugs. “Asher’s company made the security system you used. It wasn’t hard to find a master access code at the R&D lab.”
That fucker.
I abandon that line of questioning, already planning some upgrades for my security system. “Why are you here?”
“I was in town and wanted a cup of tea with a friend.”
See what I mean? Loon. She’s an absolute, psychotic loon. Asher is making the biggest mistake of his life, tying himself to this chick. In just three months, too.
She has the audacity to roll her eyes at me, though I haven’t said a thing. “I never had a chance to thank you for what you did.”
“You could’ve texted.”
Or left me alone entirely.
Again, she rolls her eyes. “Gosh, you’re a real piece of work. You know that? Thanking someone for risking their life to help your fiancé isn’t exactly something you do over text. I wanted to thank you in person. Plus, I also came to say that, should you ever need a favor, I owe you one.”
My arms cross. “What could I possibly want from you?”
I know I won’t like her answer when she throws her head back and laughs.
Her ever present grin is troubling, and she has a look on her face, like she knows something I don’t. “Here’s my favor. A warning—be careful with that one.”
And with those puzzling words, she’s out of the door.
It’s official.
Asher’s fiancée is better off in a psych ward than roaming the streets of Manhattan.