Torn (Lords of the City #1) (25 page)

“Ridiculous,” I repeated when I hopped off onto the red carpet and marched into the gala on my own.

When I’d last been in the theater, the interior had been a bit dull, its elegance destroyed by synchronic banners and cardboard displays of the new technologies companies around the world had invented. Now, the historic elements of the place demanded attention, from its brass chandeliers to vintage photos of Hollywood stars who had performed on its stage. Purposefully leaving Noah behind, I sauntered into the theater room with as much poise as I could muster.

The seats had been removed, replaced with round, formally dressed banquet tables and chairs, between which plenty of space remained for guests to socialize and dance. It was convenient because the floor was jammed pack as a band played on the stage. A darkness shaded the room, the only illumination the blue lights that manipulated the senses into believing the room was outside, a celebration of the night.

“Don’t be mad,” Noah whispered, wrapping his arms around me. He kissed my neck with the gentleness of a breeze. “You look too beautiful to be mad.”

“Do I still get to drink champagne?” I asked, lightening up.

“Only if I’m in the same room as you,” he murmured, kissing my neck again as he ran a finger down my bare spine.

“Good thing this is a big room,” I replied.

Laughing, he stepped away, seemingly unashamed of the bulge in his pants. “Put it on the tab, but don’t let Peter have any. He may talk with the intelligence of someone well beyond his years, but he’s still underage.”

“Good luck with your final pitches,” I bid him.

“Good luck dancing without shoes,” he replied, grinning before he disappeared into the crowd.

Thirsty, I floated to the nearest bar. “One very tall glass of champagne, please,” I ordered.

“When Noah Stafford goes hunting, he really knows how to bag the good ones,” a man beside me said, smirking.

Hurry up with my champagne,
I willed.
I have someone’s head to dump it over.

The man had the aura of the devil. Not a tyrant or a sinner, but Lucifer himself, a puppeteer of destruction. He was handsome, with black hair and gray eyes, but there was nothing attractive about the way he leered or the brashness twisted in the knuckle rings around his fingers.

“I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable,” he continued, persistent. “Every year Noah brings his personal assistants to these events, and they get more and more beautiful. I wonder who he’ll be bringing next year.”

“And you are?”

“A friend,” he replied smoothly, running his eyes down my body. “Maybe more.”

“Get lost.”

He didn’t budge. “Imogen, my lovely, is that really a way to talk to someone who’s trying to help you? I’ve done my research. You’re wasting your potential locked up on that top floor. Do something for me, and I’ll give you riches beyond your wildest dreams, enough to travel. Maybe to Thailand.”

Shocked, I froze. How the hell did he know about Thailand? My instincts took charge. Instead of storming away, I tried to gather counter intel on him. “And what is it you want me to do?” I asked, forthright.

“Bring me the design for the nanorobotics.”

“I see. You know you could be arrested for robbing a design.”

“But not for suggesting it,” he said coolly.

It took all my strength not to take his knuckle rings and shove them down his throat. Thankfully, Peter saved the day.

“Imogen, we have that thing to get to,” he said, pulling on my arm.

“Yes, we do,” I said, glaring at the man and allowed Peter to lead me away.

“Do you know who that was?” he asked, shaking his head. “Of course you don’t, or you wouldn’t have been speaking with him. That was Niall Lambert, a ruthless big shot with billions to burn. He’s after Chicago, he wants to rule it, and he’s willing to take down anyone in his way.”

“That will never happen,” I said. “Noah is too powerful.”

“What did he say to you?”

Peter was only trying to help, but I didn’t want him to get mixed up in the middle of something that went over both our heads. “Never mind all that. Let’s go dance!”

And we did, shaking our bodies to the live music. Peter was like a stick of gum flapping around. I was no better. When the long week caught up to us, we stumbled back to our suite in exhaustion.

“Did Noah disapprove of us leaving?” Peter asked as I unlocked the door.

“I think he was relieved. We were burning up that dance floor.”

Inside, Peter immediately headed for his room. “Love you like a sister,” he called back to me.

“Ditto, boy genius.”

Staggering through the hall, I did the same, except I went to Noah’s room, not my own and collapsed on his bed, determined not to move.

Grandma’s dress.

Afraid of crumpling the fabric, I pried myself off the bed, stripped down to my silk panties, and hung the heirloom in the closet, trading it for one of Noah’s dress shirts. Then I crawled under the sheets and fell asleep, waking only when Noah returned.

“Will you go to Arizona with me to see my mother?” I asked, half-asleep, unable to open my eyes.

He slipped into bed next to me and wrapped me tightly in his arms. Sinking into his warmth, I tucked my head under his chin. “Will you?” I asked again.

“Of course,” he said, smoothing back my hair. “I’ll be there for you.”

“Thank you,” I murmured. “What lesson are you going to teach me tonight?”

He kissed my forehead with a tender affection and continued to stroke my hair. “No more lessons. It’s time to move past them.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Our limbs tangled around each other, we fell asleep. No lessons. No rules. Just us.

A Couple of Months Later

M
onths of hard work were coming to an end. Stafford Estate was almost finished. All I had left to do was the conservatory. After cleaning the glass of the outer walls, I’d thrown out the rotting roots of the old plants and replaced them with terracotta pots filled with bluebells, sage, and other wildflowers.

I couldn’t take credit for all the work. The lawn had been my adversary. I’d mowed the grass at my grandma’s house plenty of times, but Stafford Estate wasn’t a little rambler on a residential street. The property it sat upon was extensive. Desperate, I’d turned to Peter, who had recruited Gloria. While Peter and I picked at weeds, Gloria had zigzagged past us on a riding mower, her raven black hair bouncing on her head.

That had been a week ago. Before the grass grew back, I’d pushed myself to complete the restoration, saving the sculptures for last. With a washcloth, I started at the back, slowly wiping the grime from the marble, interrupted only when my phone rang.

“It’s an emergency. I need you,” Julia hissed into the phone as soon as I answered.

I dropped the washcloth. “What is it?” I asked, trying to gauge her tone. She didn’t sound scared, but she did seem frantic.

“Just get back to the apartment as soon as you can.”

“It’ll take about a half-hour, depending on traffic,” I told her.

“Where are you? The moon?”

“I’m at Stafford Estate.”

“Still?” I could hear her eyes roll. “You know your days off are supposed to be about you, not him.”

“He has no idea I’m here. So do I still need to drive all the way home?”

“Yes!” she yelled and hung up.

“I’ll see you later,” I bid the sculptures.

With the sun beating down, it seemed the weather was taking a turn for the better. Bees flew around in the freshly cut grass in search of nectar. One landed on my knee, left bare from my denim cut-offs, and I delicately swiped it away, trying not to hurt it. In a funny twist of fate, it moved on to the daisy stickers on my hatchback.

When Gloria had been here with Peter, she’d used bolt cutters to break the lock, saving me the trouble of jumping over the fence with the hover board, though I kind of missed it. Shutting the gate, I got into my car and drove away from the sunshine, towards the shadows of the skyscrapers.

Being midday, traffic wasn’t too bad, and I made it back to the apartment in relatively good time. Walking in, I thought I was back in the conservatory. Hundreds of bouquets of flowers, from roses to carnations, were scattered around the apartment.

“Julia!” I called out. “Do we still live here?”

“Maybe not,” she said, meeting me by the door, looking distressed. “Ronald sent these.”

“The horror,” I teased. “Are you allergic? Is that the emergency?”

She handed me a note. “No. This is.”

My Julia, these last few months with you have been the best of my life. I don’t want to spend another night without you. Move in with me, and I will shower you in blossoms every day.

I couldn’t believe it. Forcing a smile, I returned the note to Julia, but my heart sank. I wasn’t ready for her to leave.

“That’s fantastic,” I said weakly. “He’s so sweet. How do you feel?”

“Like I need a glass of wine.”

We moved on to the kitchen, giving me time to process the news. The apartment was too big to live in alone, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about living with anyone who wasn’t Julia. Selfishly, I prayed she wouldn’t go through with it.

“I don’t know what to do,” she lamented as she poured a glass of red. “Are you allowed to drink yet?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Hit me.”

She handed me a glass, downed her own, then poured herself another. “What if it doesn’t work out? I mean, this is major.”

Grasping that Julia was anxious enough for the both of us, I put my own worries aside and tried to be supportive. “And what if it does work out? You two are so happy together.”

“We are happy. Now. But people’s true colors come out when you live with them. Except for you. I knew you were a nerdy sweetheart from the moment I met you.”

“Thanks, I think.” I took a sip of my wine, hoping the microchip in my arm didn’t calculate my blood alcohol level.

“What if he’s like a hoarder or something? Or hides the pillows every time I eat the cheese? I’m so used to living by myself or with my girlfriends, the idea of sharing my space with a guy is absolutely terrifying. Have you ever lived with one?”

“No,” I admitted. “My grandma had a boyfriend who stayed with us for a few months when I was twelve, but then he offered me really special brownies, and he was gone.”

“I wouldn’t mind special brownies,” she pondered. “That would be okay, but not the cheese thing.”

I laughed and took another sip. “I don’t think you have to worry about Ronald hiding the pillows, but consider this: If Ronald is the one, you’ll end up living with him anyway. Might as well get it over with. A wise woman once told me she doesn’t mind flipping a few boards, as long as they’re flipped quickly.”

“She does sound pretty wise,” Julia said, relaxing against the counter. “What about you? Will you be okay if I move out?”

“Only if you promise to visit often.”

“I will,” she guaranteed. “Every week.” She spun her glass around in her hand. “Wow. I think I’m doing this. I’m moving in with a man I love.”

“Yes, you are,” I said, rising. “So call him and tell him the good news. I’ll take off for a few hours, so you’ll have the place to yourself.”

“You’ve been drinking,” she protested.

“I’ve only had a few sips,” I said, patting her shoulder, certain her resistance for me to leave was her fear of finalizing plans with Ronald. “Do me a favor, will ya?”

“Anything.”

“Wait two weeks before you go. I don’t want our reign to end overnight.”

“Gladly,” she agreed, looking relieved.

I got back on the highway for Stafford Estate, but this time, I did get stuck in traffic, trapping me in my thoughts. I wanted what Julia had, a normal relationship living with a guy she loved, the possibilities of the future completely open. Irritated, I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, feeling anxious. I didn’t want to live alone. That was for sure.

Barely moving, I called Noah. “Can you talk?” I asked.

“If you’re on the line, always. Is everything okay?”

“Julia is moving in with her boyfriend. She’ll be leaving the apartment in two weeks.”

“And this upsets you,” he deduced. “Why?”

“Living on my own isn’t something I’m looking forward to.” I wished he was in the car so I could read his expression.

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” he said lightly. “You know I would never let you live alone.”

“You wouldn’t?” I asked, my heart fluttering.

“Of course not. I want you to be at peace, Imogen. That’s the most important thing to me. Your happiness and your safety. When I see you smile first thing in the morning, it makes the burden of my day so much easier to bear.”

My breath caught in my throat. This was it. This was the step forward I wasn’t sure Noah and I would ever take. Julia and I would be leaving the apartment together. It was sad, but it was also poetic and thrilling.

“To make sure you smile every morning, I’ll fill Julia’s room as quickly as possible, perhaps with one of my older female executives, someone who can be a mentor to you, especially after you’re promoted.”

It was a double punch in the gut. “Are you already thinking about promoting me?”

“I’m wasting your talents, Imogen. You’ve proven your loyalty to me. When Niall Lambert tried to recruit you at the gala, you came straight to me.”

“Was it a test?”

“No, he’s a lowlife, but that doesn’t matter. There’s no reason for you to continue being my personal assistant, not when you could be out there saving the environment.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, unable to hide my outrage.

“Nothing. Our agreement doesn’t change, only your position in the company. I’ll replace you with an old woman. Or a man. Whatever makes you most comfortable.”

It was a small relief, but I was still upset. “What if you didn’t find me a new roommate? What if I became your new roommate?” I asked.

“Imogen,” Noah murmured. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not? I stay over there all the time.”

“It’s not in the agreement,” he said, as if it made total sense.