Chapter One

Eliza

There is something so satisfying about finishing a really long day at work and looking around at your clients, knowing they will leave with some serious peace of mind. I loved my job; it was pretty much everything that drove me. Just a year ago I was only working part-time for Zen Studios, spending the other half of my time designing clothes for a really crappy company in the Bronx. Now, though, I was running Zen Fitness in the Art District and had my own line of yoga wear for sale in the shop.

Missy and I had been friends for years, and she was definitely someone I looked up to. She used to do all but three yoga classes herself, not to mention run the sessions for the handful of personal training clients she took on. Zen had only been open two years, but it already had a second store, which was how I ended up the operating manager of this location. Missy had worked her butt off, but her big break came when she met Mason, the owner of one of the largest record companies in the world. It was definitely a whirlwind romance, and just a year ago she opened a new Zen Studios on the bottom floor of the record company, right in the center of Manhattan.

I knew I couldn’t take on clients like Missy could, so we marketed the hell out of the Art District location and ended up so full of clients we had to hire an entire staff. I was finally doing what I wanted to do—managing, teaching, and designing—and all for a really amazing woman who happened to also be my best friend. We met when we went to NYU together.

I grew up in Massachusetts and ended up in New York at the ripe age of seventeen, venturing far from home to go to college. My mother and father owned their own empire, having created a gardening center that blew up about the time I was five. It’s now a multinational chain. They were loaded, to say the least, and I used to spend my time just living off their dime and floating through life. However, when I met Missy and started to work at Zen, I saw that I needed my own life. I needed to be in a business that made me as motivated as Missy was on a daily basis. I seriously had only seen her take like three days off her entire first year of being open, and that was to visit her grandmother and sort out the craziness with Mason. Every other day she was on the grind, ready to push the studio to new heights.

Currently, I am trying to push the studio further, hoping that she will make me a partner. She had talked about it before, feeling like her time was taken up with Mason and the studio in Manhattan, and it was only fair that I made my fair share of the profits for all the hard work I was putting in. It was definitely something I wanted; I just needed to push to get there.

Speaking of Missy, I rushed through the studio, thanking Nina, the front-desk girl, for closing up shop so I could get ready for the engagement party. Missy and Mason had gotten engaged at the opening of the studio in Manhattan a year ago, but with all the work they had going on, they pushed the engagement party off until now. I was never a really big fan of parties, but I was the maid of honor, and I would never leave Missy alone to fight through the rich bitches and affluent gentlemen who were coming as guests of Mason. He knew so many people we had to rent out the ballroom at the Grand Hyatt in Manhattan to house them all, and this was just the engagement party. I had no idea how Missy dealt with that kind of wedding planning, but she seemed to really love it.

I grabbed my bag and headed up the stairs to Missy’s apartment. It was right above the studio, which was very convenient. I lived down the block, but Missy said when she was fully moved into Mason’s, I could take her place. It meant very little rent and being super close to work, so I was down. Plus, it was a lot bigger and way nicer than my current place.

“Hey,” I said, walking into the apartment.

“Hey,” Missy said excitedly. “You ready to party?”

“Um, yeah, sure.” I laughed. “Though I don’t know how much of a rave this is going to be with so many rich people there.”

“Yeah, well, at least it’s an open bar.” Missy shrugged. “Are you bringing a date?”

“No.” I laughed. “Byron was supposed to come with me, but that definitely fell through, and it can keep falling.”

“Aw,” she said with a pouty lip. “You okay?”

“Me? Yeah,” I scoffed. “He wasn’t even that interesting. Besides, I have other things I want to focus on, so men can take a back seat.”

“I never thought I would hear you say that.” Missy laughed. “You were the wild and crazy dater who said it was okay that I date Mason.”

“Well, things have changed a lot,” I sighed. “And there are literally no good men left in the city now.”

“Yeah, I snagged the last one,” she joked.

“Can I clone him?” I plopped down on the couch next to her and picked up the shot glass she just filled with Fireball. “Like I’ll change his face or whatever so it’s not weird.”

“I didn’t know you were a mad scientist now,” Missy said with a laugh. “You’ll find someone. Promise.”

“Well, here is to your storybook romance, and my bleak future with men,” I said, holding up the shot.

“Here, here.” She smiled.

We took the shot and both winced at the same time, forgetting how pungent Fireball could be. We went to work getting ready for the event, which gave me the opportunity to unveil the outfit I had made for her party. It was a short black dress with lace overlay that draped across my shoulders. The lace was see-through and gave a slender appeal to my short neck.

“Gorgeous,” Missy said. “Shall we go?”

“Yes, let’s,” I said in my best rich-person impression.

The limo was waiting out front for us when we came down, and Missy smiled, running ahead and jumping into Mason’s arms as he stepped out of the limo. I shook my head and walked carefully down the stairs in my six-inch heels, hoping that I didn’t eat shit right there on the sidewalk. I hugged Mason and climbed into the limo, sad that I was now the third wheel.

When we pulled up at the venue, I shook my head, looking out at the red carpet and lights that had been laid out for them. It was like being the best friend of a celebrity and everything was always on fleek. I walked in first, allowing them to make their grand entrance. When I got inside, I was escorted to my table at the front with the other members of the wedding party. At least I would halfway know some people while I was there.

I sat there all evening, listening to speeches, eating dinner, watching other couples move across the dance floor, and eventually admitting to myself that I felt completely lost. Missy and Mason were the perfect freaking couple, and though I was so glad my best friend was happy, I couldn’t help being jealous of the two of them. They had the perfect relationship. Mason adored Missy and would go to the ends of the earth to make her happy. Missy felt the same exact way about Mason, and I had seen a seriously huge change in her since she met him. Me? I was skulking around in dark corners, trying to find a man but not trusting them when I did.

I had been in a relationship before Byron that I really thought was going to be it. I met the guy before Missy met Mason, and I fell head over heels for him. However, after catching him with another woman in his bed—on our six-month anniversary—I became a little skeptical about whether or not a man could be trusted. Sure, I had my one-night stands, but I was a relationship girl in the end. The problem was, there weren’t many good guys left out there, and when I found one, I talked myself out of it every time. I was terrified of being hurt like that again. I was pretty much done after that.

So instead, I became the single best friend that Mason always tried to set up, but it never actually worked out in the end. I moved through the crowds of people, smiling nicely, talking to the old people, and leaving at the end of the night, alone and full of Fireball. I felt like this engagement party was going to be no exception to that rule.

I looked around the room and stared at all the couples dancing together, flashing Missy and Mason a fake smile. They waved at me, and I chuckled to myself, wanting to throw myself in the punch bowl. There were so many people there that I didn’t recognize and so many couples that it made me want to puke. Yes, I was that girl. The girl who hates your PDA, but if it were me, I would think it’s was too adorable. I was a bit of hypocrite when it came to things like that.

I sighed and walked over to the bar, tapping my fingers on the counter as if I wasn’t going to sit down and post up there the rest of the night. I was seriously getting to know every bartender in the city from the number of events I was attending with Mason and Missy. I enjoyed the ones at the record company because I got to meet famous musicians, but the rest of them were very corporate oriented, which I had never been. I struggled through those evenings and was thankful that I was small and cute with a bubbly personality because it kept me from having to answer a bunch of questions.

I sat down at the bar and ordered a beer and a shot of Fireball. The bartender poured my beer into a glass and handed me a nifty little glass with the whiskey in it. It was like the tiniest champagne glass in history. I was really starting to become astounded by the strange things rich people did with their liquor, and I came from a rich family. There was definitely a difference between New York City rich and Massachusetts rich.

I shrugged and took the shot, setting it down and nodding when he asked if I wanted another. If I was going to sit there and watch couple after couple sashay across the room, I was going to get damn drunk while I did it. I mean, what did it matter? I wasn’t a loud or obnoxious drunk, and it might give me the courage to get out there on the dance floor and get down with some of the old geezers who had too many taps in the whiskey bottle earlier in the day, resulting in a bad white grandpa dance.

I laughed to myself at the joke that no one but me heard. I was starting to talk to myself now—great. I noticed someone walk up beside me and order a drink, but I wasn’t paying any attention at all. That was until he spoke.

“It’s like a bad couples’ prom out there tonight,” the voice joked.

“Right?” I said, turning my head toward the man and gawking slightly at how handsome he was.

“Anthony,” he said, reaching out his hand.

I was in trouble already.