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TWISTED LOVE

TWISTED BOOK ONE ANA HUANG

Copyright © 2021 by Ana Huang All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review and certain other noncommercial use permitted by copyright law. Resemblance to actual persons and things living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. TWISTED LOVE : Cover Designer: Quirah Casey, Temptation Creations Editor: Amy Briggs, Briggs Consulting LLC Proofreader: Krista Burdine Photographer: RafaGCatala Model: Jorge Del Rio Romero

To my mom, for all her support and encouragement over the years. Mom, if you’re reading this, turn back immediately. There are scenes in here that will scar you for life.

CONTENTS Playlist Synopsis 1. Ava 2. Alex 3. Ava 4. Ava 5. Alex 6. Ava 7. Alex 8. Ava 9. Alex 10. Ava 11. Ava 12. Ava 13. Alex 14. Ava 15. Ava 16. Alex 17. Ava 18. Alex 19. Ava 20. Alex 21. Ava 22. Alex 23. Ava 24. Ava 25. Ava 26. Ava 27. Ava 28. Alex 29. Ava 30. Ava 31. Alex 32. Ava 33. Alex 34. Alex 35. Alex 36. Ava 37. Alex 38. Alex

39. Ava 40. Alex 41. Ava 42. Ava 43. Ava Epilogue Books by Ana Huang Keep in touch with Ana Huang Acknowledgments About the Author

“Twisted”—MISSIO “Ice Box”—Omarion “Feel Again”—One Republic “Dusk Till Dawn”—ZAYN & Sia “Set Fire to the Rain”—Adele “Burn”—Ellie Goulding “My Kind of Love”—Emeli Sandé “Writing’s on the Wall”—Sam Smith “Ghost”—Ella Henderson “What Doesn’t Kill You”—Kelly Clarkson “Wide Awake”—Katy Perry “You Sang to Me”—Marc Anthony

He has a heart of ice...but for her, he'd burn the world. Alex Volkov is a devil blessed with the face of an angel and cursed with a past he can’t escape. Driven by a tragedy that has haunted him for most of his life, his ruthless pursuits for success and vengeance leave little room for matters of the heart. But when he’s forced to look after his best friend’s sister, he starts to feel something in his chest: A crack. A melt. A fire that could end his world as he knew it. *** Ava Chen is a free spirit trapped by nightmares of a childhood she can’t remember. But despite her broken past, she’s never stopped seeing the beauty in the world…including the heart beneath the icy exterior of a man she shouldn’t want. Her brother’s best friend. Her neighbor. Her savior and her downfall. Theirs is a love that was never supposed to happen—but when it does, it unleashes secrets that could destroy them both…and everything they hold dear.

1 AVA T middle of nowhere during a rainstorm. For example, I could be running from a rabid bear intent on mauling me into the next century. Or I could be tied to a chair in a dark basement and forced to listen to Aqua’s “Barbie Girl” on repeat until I’d rather gnaw off my arm than hear the song’s eponymous phrase again. But just because things could be worse didn’t mean they didn’t suck. Stop. Think positive thoughts. “An Uber will show up…now. ” I stared at my phone, biting back my frustration when the app reassured me it was “finding my ride”, the way it had been for the past half hour. Normally, I’d be less stressed about the situation because hey, at least I had a working phone and a bus shelter to keep me mostly dry from the pounding rain. But Josh’s farewell party was starting in an hour, I had yet to pick up his surprise cake from the bakery, and it would be dark soon. I may be a glass half full kinda gal, but I wasn’t an idiot. No one—especially not a college girl with zero fighting skills to speak of—wants to find herself alone in the middle of nowhere after dark. I should’ve taken those self-defense classes with Jules like she wanted. I mentally scrolled through my limited options. The bus that stopped at this location didn’t run on the weekends, and most of my friends didn’t own a car. Bridget had car service, but she was at an embassy event until seven. Uber wasn’t working, and I hadn’t seen a single car pass by since the rain started. Not that I

would hitchhike, anyway—I’ve watched horror movies, thank you very much. I only had one option left—one I really didn’t want to take—but beggars couldn’t be choosers. I pulled up the contact in my phone, said a silent prayer, and pressed the call button. One ring. Two rings. Three. Come on, pick up. Or not. I wasn’t sure which would be worse —getting murdered or dealing with my brother. Of course, there was always the chance said brother would murder me himself for putting myself in such a situation, but I’d deal with that later. “What’s wrong?” I scrunched my nose at his greeting. “Hello to you too, brother dearest. What makes you think something is wrong?” Josh snorted. “Uh, you called me. You never call unless you’re in trouble.” True. We preferred texting, and we lived next door to each other—not my idea, by the way—so we rarely had to message at all. “I wouldn’t say I’m in trouble,” I hedged. “More like…stranded. I’m not near public transport, and I can’t find an Uber.” “Christ, Ava. Where are you?” I told him. “What the hell are you doing there? That’s an hour from campus!” “Don’t be dramatic. I had an engagement shoot, and it’s a thirty-minute drive. Forty-five if there’s traffic.” Thunder boomed, shaking the branches of nearby trees. I winced and shrank farther back into the shelter, not that it did me much good. The rain slanted sideways, splattering me with water droplets so heavy and hard they stung when they hit my skin. A rustling noise came from Josh’s end, followed by a soft moan. I paused, sure I’d heard wrong, but nope, there it was again. Another moan. My eyes widened in horror. “Are you having sex right now?” I whisper-shouted, even though no one else was around. The sandwich I’d scarfed down before I left for my shoot threatened to make a reappearance. There was nothing—I repeat

nothing—grosser than listening to a relative while they’re mid- coitus. Just the thought made me gag. “Technically, no.” Josh sounded unrepentant. The word “technically” did a lot of heavy lifting there. It didn’t take a genius to decipher Josh’s vague reply. He may not be having intercourse, but something was going on, and I had zero desire to find out what that “something” was. “Josh Chen.” “Hey, you’re the one who called me.” He must’ve covered his phone with his hand, because his next words came through muffled. I heard a soft, feminine laugh followed by a squeal, and I wanted to bleach my ears, my eyes, my mind. “One of the guys took my car to buy more ice,” Josh said, his voice clear again. “But don’t worry, I got you. Drop a pin on your exact location and keep your phone close. Do you still have the pepper spray I bought for your birthday last year?” “Yes. Thanks for that, by the way.” I’d wanted a new camera bag, but Josh had bought me an eight-pack of pepper spray instead. I’d never used any of it, which meant all eight bottles— minus the one tucked in my purse—were sitting snug in the back of my closet. My sarcasm went over my brother’s head. For a straight-A pre- med student, he could be quite dense. “You’re welcome. Stay put, and he’ll be there soon. We’ll talk about your complete lack of self- preservation later.” “I’m self-preserved,” I protested. Was that the right word? “It’s not my fault there are no Ub—wait, what do you mean ‘he’? Josh!” Too late. He’d already hung up. Figured the one time I wanted him to elaborate, he’d ditch me for one of his bed buddies. I was surprised he hadn’t freaked out more, considering Josh put the “over” in overprotective. Ever since “The Incident,” he’d taken it upon himself to look after me like he was my brother and bodyguard rolled into one. I didn’t blame him—our childhood had been a hundred shades of messed up, or so I’d been told—and I loved him to pieces, but his constant worrying could be a bit much. I sat sideways on the bench and hugged my bag to my side, letting the cracked leather warm my skin while I waited for the mysterious “he” to show up. It could be anyone. Josh had no shortage of friends. He’d always been Mr. Popular—basketball

player, student body president, and homecoming king in high school; Sigma fraternity brother and Big Man on Campus in college. I was his opposite. Not un popular per se, but I shied away from the limelight and would rather have a small group of close friends than a large group of friendly acquaintances. Where Josh was the life of the party, I sat in the corner and daydreamed about all the places I would love to visit but would probably never get to. Not if my phobia had anything to do with it. My damn phobia. I knew it was all mental, but it felt physical. The nausea, the racing heart, the paralyzing fear that turned my limbs into useless, frozen things … On the bright side, at least I wasn’t afraid of rain. Oceans and lakes and pools, I could avoid, but rain…yeah, that would’ve been bad. I wasn’t sure how long I huddled in the tiny bus shelter, cursing my lack of foresight when I turned down the Graysons’ offer to drive me back to town after our shoot. I hadn’t wanted to inconvenience them and thought I could call an Uber and be back at Thayer’s campus in half an hour, but the skies opened up right after the couple left and, well, here I was. It was getting dark. Muted grays mingled with the cool blues of twilight, and part of me worried the mysterious “he” wouldn’t show up, but Josh had never let me down. If one of his friends failed to pick me up like he’d asked, they wouldn’t have working legs tomorrow. Josh was a med student, but he had zero compunction about using violence when the situation called for it—especially when the situation involved me. The bright beam of headlights slashed through the rain. I squinted, my heart tripping in both anticipation and wariness as I weighed the odds of whether the car belonged to my ride or a potential psycho. This part of Maryland was pretty safe, but you never knew. When my eyes adjusted to the light, I slumped with relief, only to stiffen again two seconds later. Good news? I recognized the sleek, black Aston Martin pulling up toward me. It belonged to one of Josh’s friends, which meant I wouldn’t end up a local news item tonight. Bad news? The person driving said Aston Martin was the last person I wanted—or expected—to pick me up. He wasn’t an I’ll do

my buddy a favor and rescue his stranded little sister kinda guy. He was a look at me wrong and I’ll destroy you and everyone you care about kinda guy, and he’d do it looking so calm and gorgeous you wouldn’t notice your world burning down around you until you were already a heap of ashes at his Tom Ford-clad feet. I swiped the tip of my tongue over my dry lips as the car stopped in front of me and the passenger window rolled down. “Get in.” He didn’t raise his voice—he never raised his voice—but I still heard him loud and clear over the rain. Alex Volkov was a force of nature unto himself, and I imagined even the weather bowed to him. “I hope you’re not waiting for me to open the door for you,” he said when I didn’t move. He sounded as happy as I was about the situation. What a gentleman. I pressed my lips together and bit back a sarcastic reply as I roused myself from the bench and ducked into the car. It smelled cool and expensive, like spicy cologne and fine Italian leather. I didn’t have a towel or anything to place on the seat beneath me, so all I could do was pray I didn’t damage the expensive interior. “Thanks for picking me up. I appreciate it,” I said in an attempt to break the icy silence. I failed. Miserably. Alex didn’t respond or even look at me as he navigated the twists and curves of the slick roads leading back to campus. He drove the same way he walked, talked, and breathed—steady and controlled, with an undercurrent of danger warning those foolish enough to contemplate crossing him that doing so would be their death sentence. He was the exact opposite of Josh, and I still marveled at the fact that they were best friends. Personally, I thought Alex was an asshole. I was sure he had his reasons, some kind of psychological trauma which shaped him into the unfeeling robot he was today. Based on the snippets I’d gleaned from Josh, Alex’s childhood had been even worse than ours, though I’d never managed to pull the details out of my brother. All I knew was, Alex’s parents had died when he was young and left him a pile of money he’d quadrupled the value of when he came into his inheritance at age eighteen. Not that he’d needed it because he’d

invented a new financial modeling software in high school that made him a multimillionaire before he could vote. With an IQ of 160, Alex Volkov was a genius, or close to it. He was the only person in Thayer’s history to complete its five-year joint undergrad/MBA program in three years, and at age twenty- six, he was the COO of one of the most successful real estate development companies in the country. He was a legend, and he knew it. Meanwhile, I thought I was doing well if I remembered to eat while juggling my classes, extracurriculars, and two jobs—front desk duty at the McCann Gallery, and my side hustle as a photographer for anyone who would hire me. Graduations, engagements, dogs’ birthday parties, I did them all. “Are you going to Josh’s party?” I tried again to make small talk. The silence was killing me. Alex and Josh had been best friends since they roomed together at Thayer eight years ago, and Alex had joined my family for Thanksgiving and assorted holidays every year since, but I still didn’t know him. Alex and I didn’t talk unless it had to do with Josh or passing the potatoes at dinner or something. “Yes.” Okay, then. Guess small talk was out. My mind wandered toward the million things I had to do that weekend. Edit the photos from the Graysons’ shoot and, work on my application for the World Youth Photography fellowship, help Josh finish packing after— Crap! I’d forgotten all about Josh’s cake. I’d ordered it two weeks ago because that was the max lead time for something from Crumble & Bake. It was Josh’s favorite dessert, a three-layer dark chocolate frosted with fudge and filled with chocolate pudding. He only indulged on his birthday, but since he was leaving the country for a year, I figured he could break his once-a-year rule. “So…” I pasted the biggest, brightest smile on my face. “Don’t kill me, but we need to make a detour to Crumble & Bake.” “No. We’re already late.” Alex stopped at a red light. We’d made it back to civilization, and I spotted the blurred outlines of a Starbucks and a Panera through the rain-splattered glass. My smile didn’t budge. “It’s a small detour. It’ll take fifteen minutes, max. I just need to run in and pick up Josh’s cake. You

know, the Death by Chocolate he likes so much? He’ll be in Central America for a year, they don’t have C&B down there, and he leaves in two days so—” “Stop.” Alex’s fingers curled around the steering wheel, and my crazy, hormonal mind latched onto how beautiful they were. That might sound crazy because who has beautiful fingers? But he did. Physically, everything about him was beautiful. The jade-green eyes that glared out from beneath dark brows like chips hewn from a glacier; the sharp jawline and elegant, sculpted cheekbones; the lean frame and thick, light brown hair that somehow looked both tousled and perfectly coiffed. He resembled a statue in an Italian museum come to life. The insane urge to ruffle his hair like I would a kid’s gripped me, just so he’d stop looking so perfect—which was quite irritating to the rest of us mere mortals—but I didn’t have a death wish, so I kept my hands planted in my lap. “If I take you to Crumble & Bake, will you stop talking?” No doubt he regretted picking me up. My smile grew. “If you want.” His lips thinned. “Fine.” Yes! Ava Chen: One. Alex Volkov: Zero. When we arrived at the bakery, I unbuckled my seatbelt and was halfway out the door when Alex grabbed my arm and pulled me back into my seat. Contrary to what I’d expected, his touch wasn’t cold—it was scorching, and it burned through my skin and muscles until I felt its warmth in the pit of my stomach. I swallowed hard. Stupid hormones. “What? We’re already late, and they’re closing soon.” “You can’t go out like that.” The tiniest hint of disapproval etched into the corners of his mouth. “Like what?” I asked, confused. I wore jeans and a T-shirt, nothing scandalous. Alex inclined his head toward my chest. I glanced down and let out a horrified yelp. Because my shirt? White. Wet. Transparent. Not even a little transparent, like you could kind of see my bra outline if you looked hard enough. This was full-on see-through. Red lace bra, hard nipples—thanks, air-conditioning—the whole shebang.

I crossed my arms over my chest, my face flaming the same color as my bra. “Was it like this the entire time?” “Yes.” “You could’ve told me.” “I did tell you. Just now.” Sometimes, I wanted to strangle him. I really did. And I wasn’t even a violent person. I was the same girl who didn’t eat gingerbread man cookies for years after watching Shrek because I felt like I was eating Gingy’s family members or, worse, Gingy himself, but something about Alex provoked my dark side. I exhaled a sharp breath and dropped my arms by instinct, forgetting about my see-through shirt until Alex’s gaze flicked down to my chest again. The flaming cheeks returned, but I was sick of sitting here arguing with him. Crumble & Bake closed in ten minutes, and the clock was ticking. Maybe it was the man, the weather, or the hour and a half I’d spent stuck under a bus shelter, but my frustration spilled out before I could stop it. “Instead of being an asshole and staring at my breasts, can you lend me your jacket? Because I really want to get this cake and send my brother, your best friend, off in style before he leaves the country.” My words hung in the air while I clapped a hand over my mouth, horrified. Did I just utter the word “breasts” to Alex Volkov and accuse him of ogling me? And call him an asshole? Dear God, if you smite me with lightning right now, I won’t be mad. Promise. Alex’s eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. It ranked in the top five most emotional responses I’d pulled out of him in eight years, so that was something. “Trust me, I was not staring at your breasts,” he said, his voice frigid enough to transform the lingering drops of moisture on my skin into icicles. “You’re not my type, even if you weren’t Josh’s sister.” Ouch. I wasn’t interested in Alex either, but no girl enjoys being dismissed so easily by a member of the opposite sex. “Whatever. There’s no need to be a jerk about it,” I muttered. “Look, C&B closes in two minutes. Just let me borrow your jacket, and we can get out of here.” I’d pre-paid online, so all I needed was to grab the cake.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I’ll get it. You’re not leaving the car dressed like that, even wearing my jacket.” Alex yanked an umbrella out from beneath his seat and exited the car in one fluid motion. He moved like a panther, all coiled grace and laser intensity. If he wanted, he could make a killing as a runway model, though I doubted he’d ever do anything so “gauche.” He returned less than five minutes later with Crumble & Bake’s signature pink-and-mint-green cake box tucked beneath one arm. He dumped it in my lap, snapped his umbrella closed, and reversed out of the parking spot without so much as blinking. “Do you ever smile?” I asked, peeking inside the box to make sure they hadn’t messed up the order. Nope. One Death by Chocolate, coming right up. “It might help with your condition.” “What condition?” Alex sounded bored. “Stickuptheassitis.” I’d already called the man an asshole, so what was one more insult? I might’ve imagined it, but I thought I saw his mouth twitch before he responded with a bland, “No. The condition is chronic.” My hands froze while my jaw unhinged. “D-did you make a joke?” “Explain why you were out there in the first place.” Alex evaded my question and changed subjects so quick I had whiplash. He made a joke. I wouldn’t have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes. “I had a photoshoot with clients. There’s a nice lake in—” “Spare me the details. I don’t care.” A low growl slipped from my throat. “Why are you here? Didn’t figure you for the chauffeur type.” “I was in the area, and you’re Josh’s little sister. If you died, he’d be a bore to hang out with.” Alex pulled up in front of my house. Next door, AKA at Josh’s house, the lights blazed, and I could see people dancing and laughing through the windows. “Josh has the worst taste in friends,” I bit out. “I don’t know what he sees in you. I hope that stick in your ass punctures a vital organ.” Then, because I’d been raised with manners, I added, “Thank you for the ride.” I huffed out of the car. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and I smelled damp earth and the hydrangeas clustered in a pot by the

front door. I’d shower, change, then catch the last half of Josh’s party. Hopefully, he wouldn’t give me shit for getting stranded or being late because I wasn’t in the mood. I never stay angry for long, but right then, my blood simmered and I wanted to punch Alex Volkov in the face. He was so cold and arrogant and…and…him. It was infuriating. At least I didn’t have to deal with him often. Josh usually hung out with him in the city, and Alex didn’t visit Thayer even though he was an alumnus. Thank God. If I had to see Alex more than a few times a year, I’d go crazy.

2 ALEX “W ….” T blonde trailed her fingers down my arm, her hazel eyes bright with invitation as she swiped her tongue over her bottom lip. “Or not. Whatever you’re into.” My lips curved—not enough to classify as a smile, but enough to broadcast my thoughts. You can’t handle what I’m into. Despite her short, tight dress and suggestive words, she looked like the type who expected sweet nothings and lovemaking in bed. I didn’t do sweet nothings or lovemaking. I fucked a certain way, and only a specific type of woman was into that shit. Not hardcore BDSM, but not soft. No kissing, no face-to-face contact. Women agreed, then tried to change it up halfway through, after which I’d stop and show them the door. I have no tolerance for people who can’t keep to a simple agreement. That was why I stuck to a roster of familiar rotating names when I needed a release; both sides knew what to expect. The blonde was not making it onto that roster. “Not tonight.” I swirled the ice in my glass. “It’s my friend’s farewell party.” She followed my gaze toward Josh, who was basking in female attention of his own. He sprawled on the couch, one of the few remaining pieces of furniture after he’d packed the house up in anticipation of his year abroad, and grinned while three women fawned over him. He’d always been the charming one. While I put people on edge, he put them at ease, and his approach toward the fairer sex was the opposite of mine. The more, the merrier,

according to Josh. He’d probably fucked half the D.C. metro area’s female population by now. “He can join too.” The blonde edged closer until her tits grazed my arm. “I don’t mind.” “Same.” Her friend, a petite brunette who had been quiet up till now but who’d eyed me like I was a juicy steak since I walked in the door, piped up. “Lyss and I do everything together.” The insinuation couldn’t have been clearer had she tattooed it across her exposed cleavage. Most guys would’ve jumped at the opportunity, but I was already bored with the conversation. Nothing turned me off more than desperation, which reeked stronger than their perfume. I didn’t bother answering. Instead, I scanned the room for something more interesting to hold my attention. If it were a party for anyone else but Josh, I would’ve skipped it. Between my job as COO of The Archer Group and my…side project, I had enough on my plate without attending pointless social gatherings. But Josh was my best friend—one of the few people whose company I could stand for more than an hour at a time—and he was leaving Monday for his gap year as a medical volunteer in Central America. So here I was, pretending like I actually wanted to be here. A silvery laugh pealed through the air, drawing my eyes toward the source. Ava. Of course. Josh’s little sister was so sweet and sunshiney all the time, I half-expected flowers to sprout on the ground wherever she walked and a coterie of singing woodland animals to trail behind her while she traipsed through meadows or whatever girls like her did. She stood in the corner with her friends, her face bright with animation as she laughed at something one of them said. I wondered if it was a real laugh or a fake laugh. Most laughs—hell, most people—were fake. They woke up every morning and put on a mask according to what they wanted that day and who they wanted the world to see. They smiled at people they hated, laughed at jokes that weren’t funny, and kissed the asses of those they secretly hoped to dethrone. I wasn’t judging. Like everyone else, I had my masks, and they ran layers deep. But unlike everyone else, I had as much interest

in ass-kissing and small talk as I did in injecting bleach into my veins. Knowing Ava, her laugh was real. Poor girl. The world would eat her alive once she left the Thayer bubble. Not my problem. “Yo.” Josh appeared beside me, his hair tousled and his mouth stretched into a wide grin. His hangers-on were nowhere—wait, nope. There they were, dancing to Beyoncé like they were auditioning for a gig at The Strip Angel while a circle of guys watched them with their tongues lolling out. Men. My gender could use a little more standards and a little less thinking with their small head. “Thanks for showing up, man. Sorry I haven’t said hi till now. I’ve been…busy.” “I saw.” I arched an eyebrow at the lipstick print smeared on the corner of his mouth. “You have a little something on your face.” His grin widened. “Badge of honor. Speaking of which, I’m not interrupting, am I?” I glanced at the blonde and brunette, who’d moved on to making out with each other after failing to capture my interest. “No.” I shook my head. “A hundred bucks says you won’t survive the full year in Bumfuck, Nowhere. No women, no parties. You’ll be back before Halloween.” “Oh, ye of little faith. There’ll be women, and the party is wherever I am.” Josh swiped an unopened beer from a nearby cooler and cracked it open. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that. Me being gone,” he clarified. “Don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental on me. If you bought us friendship bracelets, I’m out.” “Fuck you, dude.” He laughed. “I wouldn’t buy your ass jewelry if you paid me. No, this is about Ava.” My glass paused an inch from my lips before I brought it home and the sweet burn of whiskey flowed down my throat. I hate beer. It tastes like piss, but since it was the drink du jour at Josh’s parties, I always brought a flask of Macallan whenever I visited. “What about her?” Josh and his sister were close, even if they bickered so much I wanted to duct tape their mouths sometimes. That was the nature of siblings—something I’d never quite gotten to experience.

The whiskey turned sour in my mouth, and I set my glass down with a grimace. “I’m worried about her.” Josh rubbed a hand over his jaw, his expression growing serious. “I know she’s a big girl and can take care of herself—unless she’s getting stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere; thanks for picking her up, by the way—but she’s never been on her own for so long and she can be a little too… trusting.” I had an inkling of where Josh was going with this, and I didn’t like it. At all. “She won’t be alone. She has her friends.” I inclined my head toward said friends. One of them, a curvy redhead in a gold skirt that made her look like a disco ball, chose that moment to hop onto the table and shake her ass to the rap song blasting through the speakers. Josh snorted. “Jules? She’s a liability, not help. Stella is as trusting as Ava, and Bridget…well, she has security, but she’s not around as much.” “You don’t need to worry. Thayer’s safe, and the crime rate here is close to zero.” “Yeah, but I’d feel better if I had someone I trusted looking after her, ya know?” Fuck. The train was heading straight off a cliff, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. “I wouldn’t ask—I know you’ve got a lot of shit going on—but she broke up with her ex a couple of weeks ago, and he’s been harassing her. I always knew he was a little shit, but she wouldn’t listen to me. Anyway, if you could keep an eye on her—just to make sure she doesn’t get killed or kidnapped or anything? I’d owe you big.” “You already owe me for all those times I saved your ass,” I said wryly. “You had fun while doing it. You’re too uptight sometimes.” Josh grinned. “So, is that a yes?” I glanced at Ava again. Took her in. She was twenty-two, four years younger than Josh and me, and she managed to appear both younger and older than her years. It was the way she carried herself, like she’d seen it all—the good, the bad, the downright ugly—and still believed in goodness. It was as stupid as it was admirable.

She must’ve felt me staring because she paused her conversation and looked directly at me, her cheeks tinting pink at my unflinching gaze. She’d changed out of her jeans and T-shirt into a purple dress that swirled around her knees. Too bad. The dress was nice, but my mind flashed back to our car ride, when her damp shirt had clung to her like a second skin and her nipples had strained against the decadent red lace of her bra. I’d meant what I’d said about her not being my type, but I’d enjoyed the view. I could imagine myself lifting that shirt, tugging her bra aside with my teeth, and closing my mouth around those sweet, hardened peaks— I yanked myself out of that startling fantasy fast. What the fuck was wrong with me? That was Josh’s sister . Innocent, doe-eyed, and so sweet I could throw up. The total opposite of the sophisticated, jaded women I preferred both in and out of bed. I didn’t have to worry about feelings with the latter; they knew better than to develop any around me. Ava was nothing but feelings, with a hint of sass. A ghost of a smile passed over my mouth when I remembered her parting shot earlier. I hope that stick in your ass punctures a vital organ. Not the worst thing anyone’s said to me, not by a long shot, but more aggressive than I’d expected coming from her. I’d never heard her say a bad word to or about anyone before. I took perverse pleasure in the fact that I could rile her up so much. “Alex,” Josh prompted. “I don’t know, man.” I dragged my eyes away from Ava and her purple dress. “I’m not much of a babysitter.” “Good thing she’s not a baby,” he quipped. “Look, I know this is a big ask, but you’re the only person I trust not to, you know—” “Fuck her?” “Jesus, dude.” Josh looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. “Don’t use that word in relation to my sister. It’s gross. But…yeah. I mean, we both know she’s not your type, and even if she was, you’d never go there.” A sliver of guilt flashed through me when I remembered my errant fantasy a few moments ago. It was time for me to call up someone from my roster if I was fantasizing about Ava Chen, of all people.

“But it’s more than that,” Josh continued. “You’re the only person I trust, period, outside of my family. And you know how worried I am about Ava, especially considering this whole thing with her ex.” His face darkened. “I swear, if I ever see that fucker…” I sighed. “I’ll take care of her. Don’t worry.” I was going to regret this. I knew it, yet here I was, signing my life away, at least for the next year. I didn’t make a lot of promises, but when I did, I kept them. Committed myself to them. Which meant if I promised Josh I’d look after Ava, I’d fucking look after her, and I’m not talking about a text check-in every two weeks. She was under my protection now. A familiar, creeping sense of doom slithered around my neck and squeezed, tighter and tighter, until oxygen ran scarce and tiny lights danced before my eyes. Blood. Everywhere. On my hands. On my clothes. Splattered over the cream rug she’d loved so much—the one she’d brought back from Europe on her last trip abroad. An inane urge to scrub the rug and tear those bloody particles out of the soft wool fibers, one by one, gripped me, but I couldn’t move. All I could do was stand and stare at the grotesque scene in my living room—a room which, not half an hour earlier, had burst with warmth and laughter and love. Now it was cold and lifeless, like the three bodies at my feet. I blinked, and they disappeared—the lights, the memories, the noose around my neck. But they’d come back. They always did. “…You’re the best,” Josh was saying, his grin back now that I’d agreed to take on a role I had no business taking. I wasn’t a protector; I was a destroyer. I broke hearts, crushed business opponents, and didn’t care about the aftermath. If someone was stupid enough to fall for me or cross me—two things I warned people never, ever to do—they had it coming. “I’ll bring you back —fuck, I don’t know. Coffee. Chocolate. Pounds of whatever is good down there. And I owe you a big, fat favor in the future.” I forced a smile. Before I could respond, my phone rang, and I held up a finger. “Be right back. I have to take this.”

“Take your time, man.” Josh was already distracted by the blonde and brunette who’d been all over me earlier and who found a much more willing audience in my best friend. By the time I stepped into the backyard and answered my call, they had their hands beneath his shirt. “Дядько,” I said, using the Ukrainian term for uncle. “Alex.” My uncle’s voice rasped over the line, scratchy from decades of cigarettes and the wear and tear of life. “I hope I’m not interrupting.” “No.” I glanced through the sliding glass door at the revelry inside. Josh had lived in the same rambling, two-story house off Thayer’s campus since undergrad. We’d roomed together until I graduated and moved to D.C. proper to be closer to my office— and to get away from the hordes of shrieking, drunken college students that paraded through campus and the surrounding neighborhoods every night. Everyone had turned out for Josh’s farewell party, and by everyone, I mean half the population of Hazelburg, Maryland, where Thayer was located. He was a town favorite, and I imagined people would miss his parties as much as they missed Josh himself. For someone who always claimed to be drowning in schoolwork, he found a lot of time for drinking and sex. Not that it hurt his academic performance. The bastard had a 4.0 GPA. “Did you take care of the problem?” my uncle asked. I heard a drawer open and close, followed by the faint click of a lighter. I’d urged him to quit smoking countless times, but he always brushed me off. Old habits die hard; old, bad habits even more so, and Ivan Volkov had reached the age where he couldn’t be bothered. “Not yet.” The moon hung low in the sky, casting ribbons of light that snaked through the otherwise-inky darkness of the backyard. Light and shadow. Two halves of the same coin. “I will. We’re close.” To justice. Vengeance. Salvation. For sixteen years, the pursuit of those three things had consumed me. They were my every waking thought, my every dream and nightmare. My reason for living. Even in situations when I’d been distracted by something else—the chess-play of corporate politics, the fleeting pleasure of burying myself into the

tight, warm heat of a willing body—they’d lurked in my consciousness, driving me to greater heights of ambition and ruthlessness. Sixteen years might seem like a long time, but I specialize in the long game. It doesn’t matter how many years I have to wait as long as the end is worth it. And the end of the man who had destroyed my family? It would be glorious. “Good.” My uncle coughed, and my lips pinched. One of these days, I’d convince him to quit smoking. Life had driven any sentimentality out of me years ago, but Ivan was my only living relative. He took me in, raised me as his own, and stuck by me through every thorny twist of my path toward revenge, so I owed him that much, at least. “Your family will be at peace soon,” he said. Perhaps. Whether the same could be said of me…well, that was a question for another day. “There’s a board meeting next week,” I said, switching topics. “I’ll be in town for the day.” My uncle was the official CEO of Archer Group, the real estate development company he’d founded a decade ago with my guidance. I’d had a knack for business even as a teenager. Archer Group headquarters called Philadelphia home, but it had offices across the country. Since I was based in D.C., that was the company’s real power center, though board meetings still took place at HQ. I could’ve taken over as CEO years ago, per my uncle’s and my agreement when we started the company, but the COO position offered me more flexibility until I finished what I had to do. Besides, everyone knew I was the power behind the throne, anyway. Ivan was a decent CEO, but it was my strategies that had catapulted it into the Fortune 500 after a mere decade. My uncle and I talked business for a while longer before I hung up and rejoined the party. The gears in my head cranked into motion as I took stock of the evening’s developments—my promise to Josh, my uncle’s nudge about the minor hiccup in my revenge plan. Somehow, I had to reconcile the two over the next year. I mentally rearranged the pieces of my life into different patterns, playing each scenario out to the end, weighing the pros

and cons, and examining them for potential cracks until I reached a decision. “Everything good?” Josh called out from the couch, where the blonde kissed his neck while the brunette’s hands became intimately acquainted with the region below his belt. “Yes.” To my irritation, my gaze strayed toward Ava again. She was in the kitchen, fussing over the half-eaten cake from Crumble & Bake. Her tanned skin glowed with a faint sheen of sweat from dancing, and her raven hair billowed around her face in a soft cloud. “About your earlier request…I have an idea.”

3 AVA “I I .” J yawned as we tromped across our front yard toward Josh’s house. “For waking up at the butt crack of dawn to help your brother clean and pack when I don’t even like the dude.” I laughed and looped my arm through hers. “I’ll buy you a caramel mocha from The Morning Roast after. Promise.” “Yeah, yeah.” She paused. “Large, with extra crunch toppings?” “You know it.” “Fine.” Jules yawned again. “That makes it somewhat worth it.” Jules and Josh were not fans of each other. I’d always found that strange, considering they were so similar. They were both outgoing, charming, smart as hell, and total heartbreakers. Jules was a human version of Jessica Rabbit, all shiny red hair, creamy skin, and curves that made me look at my body with a sigh. Overall, I was happy with how I looked, but as a member of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee, I did wish for an extra cup size or two without having to resort to plastic surgery. Ironically, Jules sometimes complained about her double-Ds, saying they were hard on her back. There should be a Venmo for breasts that allows women to send and receive cup sizes with the press of a button. Like I said, I was happy with how I looked most of the time, but no one—not even supermodels or movie stars—was immune from insecurities. Besides her grievances with her breasts, Jules was the most confident person I’d ever met—aside from my brother, whose ego was so large it could house the entire East Coast of the United

States with room left over for Texas. I suppose he had reason to be, considering he’d always been the golden boy, and though it pained me to admit it because he was my brother, he wasn’t bad- looking either. Six-foot-two with thick black hair and razor-sharp bone structure, which he never let anyone forget. I was convinced Josh would commission a sculpture of himself and display it on his front lawn if he could. Jules and Josh never divulged why they disliked each other so much, but I suspected it might be because they saw too much of themselves in each other. The front door was already open, so we didn’t bother knocking. To my surprise, the house was pretty clean. Josh had put most of his furniture into storage last week, and the only things left to pack were the couch (which someone would pick up later), a few stray kitchen items, and the weird abstract painting in the living room. “Josh?” My voice echoed in the large, empty space while Jules sat on the ground and pulled her knees to her chest with a grumpy expression. If you couldn’t tell, she wasn’t a morning person. “Where are you?” “Bedroom!” I heard a loud thump upstairs, followed by a muffled curse. A minute later, Josh came down holding a large cardboard box. “Shit I’m donating,” he explained, setting it on the kitchen counter. I wrinkled my nose. “Put a shirt on. Please.” “And deprive JR of her morning eye candy?” Josh smirked. “I’m not that cruel.” I wasn’t the only one who thought Jules looked like Jessica Rabbit; Josh always called her by the cartoon character’s initials, which pissed her off to no end. Then again, everything Josh did pissed her off. Jules lifted her head and scowled. “Please. I’ve seen better abs at the campus gym. Listen to Ava and put a shirt on before I lose last night’s dinner.” “Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Josh drawled, slapping a hand against his six-pack. “The only thing you’ll be losing is—” “Okay.” I slashed my arms through the air, cutting off the conversation before it went down a path that’d scar me for life.

“Enough chitchat. Let’s get you packed up before you miss your flight.” Fortunately, Josh and Jules behaved for the next hour and a half while we packed up the remaining items and loaded them into the SUV he’d rented for the move. Soon, the only thing left to pack was the painting. “Tell me you’re donating this too.” I eyed the massive canvas. “I don’t even know how it’ll fit in the car.” “Nah, leave it there. He likes it.” “Who?” As far as I knew, no one had taken over Josh’s lease yet. But it was still July, and I expected the place to go fast closer to the start of the semester. “You’ll see.” I didn’t like the smile on his face. At all. The low purr of a powerful engine filled the air. Josh’s smile broadened. “As a matter of fact, you’ll see right now.” Jules and I exchanged glances before we ran to the front door and pushed it open. A familiar Aston Martin idled in the driveway. The door opened, and Alex stepped out, looking more gorgeous than any human had the right to look in jeans, aviators, and a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He took off his sunglasses and assessed us with cool eyes, unfazed by the mini welcoming party on the front steps. Only I didn’t feel particularly welcoming. “But…but that’s Alex,” I stammered. “Looking miiiighty fine, might I add.” Jules nudged me in the ribs, and I scowled in response. Who cared if he was hot? He was a jerk. “Hey, dude.” Josh slapped hands with Alex. “Where’s your stuff?” “Moving company’s bringing it later.” Alex side-eyed Jules, who assessed him the way one would a shiny new toy. Besides Josh, Alex was the only guy who’d never fallen for her charms, which intrigued her more. She was a sucker for a good challenge, probably because most guys fell at her feet before she even opened her mouth. “Wait.” I put my hand up, my heart slamming a panicked rhythm against my ribcage. “Moving comp—you’re not moving

here. ” “Actually, he is.” Josh slung an arm over my shoulder, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Meet your new neighbor, little sis.” My eyes ping-ponged between him and Alex, who couldn’t look more bored by the conversation. “No.” There was only one reason Alex Volkov would leave his cushy D.C. penthouse and move back to Hazelburg, and I’d bet my new camera it had nothing to do with nostalgia for his college days. “No, no, no, no, no.” “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.” I glared at my brother. “I don’t need a babysitter. I’m twenty- two years old.” “Who said anything about babysitting?” Josh shrugged. “He’s looking after the house for me. I’m moving back in when I return next year, so it makes sense.” “Bullshit. You want him to keep an eye on me.” “That’s a bonus.” Josh’s face softened. “It doesn’t hurt to have someone you can rely on when I’m not here, especially given this whole thing with Liam.” I winced at the mention of my ex. Liam had been blowing up my phone since I caught him cheating on me a month and a half ago. He’d even shown up at the gallery where I worked a few times, begging for another chance. I wasn’t devastated by our breakup. We’d dated for a few months, and I hadn’t been in love with him or anything, but the situation had brought all my insecurities to the surface. Josh worried about Liam getting out of hand, but let’s be honest, Liam was a Brooks-Brother-wearing, polo-playing trust fund baby. I doubted he’d do anything that would mess up his perfectly gelled hair. I was more embarrassed I’d dated him than concerned about my physical safety. “I can handle myself.” I pulled Josh’s arm off my shoulder. “Call the moving company and cancel,” I told Alex, who’d been ignoring us and scrolling through his phone this whole time. “You do not need to move here. Don’t you have…stuff to do in D.C.?” “D.C. is a twenty-minute drive,” he said without looking up. “For the record, I am totally in favor of you moving in next door,” Jules piped up. Traitor. “Do you mow the lawn shirtless? If not, I highly recommend it.” Alex and Josh frowned at the same time.

“You.” Josh pointed at her. “Do not pull any of your shenanigans while I’m gone.” “It’s cute how you think you have a say in my life.” “I don’t give a shit what you do with your life. It’s when you drag Ava into your harebrained schemes I’m concerned.” “Newsflash: you don’t have a say in Ava’s life either. She’s her own person.” “She’s my sister—” “She’s my best friend—” “Remember when you almost got her arrested—” “You have to let that go. That was three years ago—” “People!” I pressed my fingers to my temple. Dealing with Josh and Jules was like dealing with children. “Stop arguing. Josh, stop trying to control my life. Jules, stop provoking him.” Josh crossed his arms over his chest. “As your big brother, it’s my job to protect you and to appoint someone to fill in for me when I’m not here.” I grew up with him; I recognized that look on his face. He wasn’t budging. “I assume Alex is the fill-in?” I asked in a resigned tone. “I’m not a ‘fill-in’ anything,” Alex said icily. “Don’t do anything stupid, and we’ll be fine.” I groaned and covered my face with my hands. This was going to be a long year.

4 AVA T , J C A A was all moved in. I’d watched the movers carry a giant flat-screen TV and boxes of varying sizes into the house next door, and Alex’s Aston Martin was now a daily sight. Since stewing over my situation wouldn’t do me much good, I decided to make lemonade out of my lemons. The gallery closed on Tuesdays during the summer and I didn’t have any shoots scheduled, so I spent the afternoon baking my signature red velvet cookies. I’d just finished packaging them in a cute little basket when I heard the unmistakable roar of Alex’s car pulling in the driveway, followed by a door slam. Shit. Okay, I was ready. I was. I wiped my sweaty palms against the sides of my thighs. I shouldn’t be nervous about bringing the man cookies, for Pete’s sake. Alex had sat at our Thanksgiving table every year for the past eight years, and for all his money and good looks, he was human. An intimidating one, but a human nonetheless. Plus, he was supposed to look after me, and he couldn’t do that if he bit my head off, could he? With that reassurance in mind, I grabbed the basket, my keys, and my phone and made my way to his house. Thank God Jules was at her law internship. If I had to hear her talk about how hot Alex was one more time, I’d scream. Part of me thought she did it to annoy me, but another part worried she was actually interested in him. My best friend hooking up with my brother’s best friend would open up a can of worms I had no interest in dealing with.

I rang the doorbell, trying to still my rampaging heart while I waited for Alex to answer. I wanted to chuck the basket on the front step and run home, but that was the coward’s way out, and I was no coward. Most of the time, anyway. A minute passed. I rang the doorbell again. Finally, I heard the faint sound of footsteps, which grew louder until the door swung open and I found myself face-to-face with Alex. He’d taken off his jacket, but otherwise, he still wore his work outfit—white Thomas Pink shirt, Armani pants and shoes, blue Brioni tie. His eyes roved over my hair (tossed up into a bun), my face (hot as sun-scorched sand for no discernible reason), and my clothes (my favorite tank and shorts set) before settling on the basket. His expression remained unreadable the entire time. “They’re for you.” I shoved the basket toward him. “They’re cookies,” I added unnecessarily, because duh, he had eyes and could see for himself that they were cookies. “It’s a welcome-to- the-neighborhood gift.” “A welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift,” he repeated. “Yep. Since you’re…new. To the neighborhood.” I sounded like an idiot. “I know you don’t want to be here any more than I want you here—” Crap, that came out wrong. “But since we are neighbors, we should call a truce.” Alex arched an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware a truce was necessary. We’re not in a war.” “No, but—” I blew out a frustrated breath. He had to make this difficult. “I’m trying to be nice, okay? We’re stuck with each other for the next year, so I want to make our lives easier. Just take the damn cookies. You can eat them, throw them out, feed them to your pet snake Nagini, whatever.” His mouth twitched. “Did you just compare me to Voldemort?” “What? No!” Maybe. “I used the snake as an example. You don’t seem like the type who’d have a furry pet.” “You’re right on that account. But I don’t have a snake, either.” He took the basket off my hands. “Thank you.” I blinked. Blinked again. Did Alex Volkov thank me? I’d expected him to take the cookies and shut the door in my face. He’d never thanked me for anything in my life.

Except maybe that one time I passed him the mashed potatoes at dinner, but I’d been drunk, so my recollection was hazy. I was still frozen in shock when he added, “Do you want to come in?” This was a dream. It had to be. Because the chances of Alex inviting me inside his house in real life were lower than me solving a quadratic equation in my head. I pinched myself. Ow. Okay, not a dream. Just an incredibly surreal encounter. I wondered if aliens had abducted the real Alex on his way home and replaced him with a nicer, more civil imposter. “Sure,” I managed, because hell, I was curious. I’d never been inside Alex’s home before, and I was curious to see what he’d done with Josh’s place. He’d moved in two days ago, so I expected to see stray boxes lying about, but everything was so polished and put together it looked like he’d been living here for years. A sleek gray couch and eighty-inch flat-screen TV dominated the living room, accented with a low, white lacquered coffee table, industrial-chic lamps, and Josh’s abstract painting. I glimpsed an espresso machine in the kitchen and a glass-topped table with white-cushioned chairs in the dining room, but otherwise, there wasn’t much furniture to speak of. It was a drastic difference from Josh’s messy but cozy collection of random books, sports equipment, and items he’d collected from his travels. “You’re a minimalist, huh?” I examined a strange metal sculpture that looked like an exploding brain but probably cost more than my monthly rent. “I don’t see a point in collecting items I don’t use and don’t enjoy.” Alex placed the cookies on the coffee table and walked to the bar cart in the corner. “Drink?” “No, thanks.” I sat on the couch, unsure of what to do or say. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and sat opposite me, but it wasn’t far enough. I caught a whiff of his cologne—something woodsy and expensive-smelling, with a hint of spice. It was so delicious I wanted to bury my face in his neck, but I didn’t think he’d take too kindly to that. “Relax,” he said dryly. “I don’t bite.” “I’m relaxed.”

“Your knuckles are white.” I glanced down and realized I was clutching the edges of the couch so tightly my knuckles were, indeed, white. “I like what you’ve done with the place.” I winced. Talk about a cliché line. “No photos though.” In fact, I didn’t see any personal effects—nothing that showed I was in an actual home and not a model showroom. “Why would I need photos?” I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. Probably not . Alex didn’t joke, except for that one blip in his car a few days ago. “For the memories,” I said, like I was explaining a simple concept to a toddler. “To remember people and events?” “I don’t need photos for that. The memories are here.” Alex tapped the side of his forehead. “Everyone’s memories fade. Photos don’t.” At least, not digital ones. “Not mine.” He set his empty glass on the coffee table, his eyes dark. “I have a superior memory.” My snort slipped out before I could stop it. “Someone has a high opinion of himself.” That earned me a shadow of a smirk. “I’m not bragging. I have hyperthymesia, or HSAM. Highly Superior Autobiographical Memory. Look it up.” I paused. That, I hadn’t expected. “You have a photographic memory?” “No, they’re different. People with photographic memory recall details from a scene they’ve observed for a short time. People with HSAM remember almost everything about their life. Every conversation, every detail, every emotion.” Alex’s jade eyes morphed into emeralds, dark and haunted. “Whether or not they want to.” “Josh never mentioned this.” Not once, not a hint, and they’d been friends for close to a decade. “Josh doesn’t tell you everything.” I’d never heard of hyperthymesia. It sounded fantastical, like something out of a science fiction movie, but I heard the truth in Alex’s voice. What would it be like to remember everything? My heart rate picked up. It would be wonderful. And terrible. Because while there were memories I wanted to keep close to my heart, as vivid as if they

were happening right before my eyes, there were others I’d rather let fade into oblivion. I couldn’t imagine not having the safety net of knowing horrible events would eventually recede until they were only faint whispers from the past. Then again, my memories were so twisted I remembered nothing before the age of nine, when the most horrible events of my life had occurred. “What’s it like?” I whispered. How ironic the two of us were sitting here: me, the girl who remembered almost nothing, and Alex, the man who remembered everything. Alex leaned toward me, and it was all I could do not to back away. He was too close, too overwhelming, too much . “It’s like watching a movie of your life play out before your eyes,” he said quietly. “Sometimes it’s a drama. Sometimes it’s horror.” The air pulsed with tension. I was sweating so hard my top stuck to my skin. “No comedy or romance?” I tried to joke, but the question came out so breathless it sounded like a come-on. Alex’s eyes flared. Somewhere in the distance, a car horn honked. A bead of sweat trickled between my breasts, and I saw his gaze dip to it briefly before a humorless smile touched his lips. “Go home, Ava. Stay out of trouble.” It took me a minute to gather my wits and peel myself off the couch. Once I did, I all but fled, my heart pounding and knees shaking. Every encounter with Alex, no matter how small, left me on edge. I was nervous, yes, and a bit terrified. But I’d also never felt more alive.

5 ALEX I ’ , in the sharp burst of pain that jolted up my arm at the impact. My muscles burned and sweat dripped down my forehead into my eyes, blurring my vision, but I didn’t stop. I’d done this so many times I didn’t have to see to land my hits. The smell of sweat and violence stained the air. This was the one place I allowed myself to unleash the anger I kept under careful wraps in all other areas of my life. I’d started Krav Maga training a decade ago for self-defense, but it had since become my catharsis, my sanctuary. By the time I finished pummeling the mannequin, my body was a mess of aches and sweat. I toweled the perspiration off my face and took a swig of water. Work had been a bitch, and I’d needed this release to reset. “Hope you worked off your frustration,” Ralph, the owner of the training center and my personal instructor since I’d moved to D.C., said dryly. Short and stocky, he had the powerful build of a fighter and a mean mug, but deep down, he was a teddy bear. He’d knock my lights out if I ever told him or anyone else that though. “You looked like you had a personal vendetta against Harper.” Ralph named all the training dummies after TV characters or real-life people he didn’t like. “Shitty week.” We were alone in the private training studio, so I spoke more freely than I would have otherwise. Besides Josh, Ralph was the only person I considered a true friend. “I could go for the real thing right now.” Dummies were good for practice, but Krav Maga was a hand- to-hand combat method for a reason. It was all about the

interaction between yourself and your opponent and responding quickly. Couldn’t do that if your opponent was an inanimate object. “Yeah, let’s do it. Gotta end right at seven, though—no overtime. There’s a new class coming in.” I raised my eyebrows. “Class?” The KM Academy catered toward intermediate to advanced practitioners and specialized in one-on-one or small group sessions. It didn’t host large classes the way most other centers did. Ralph shrugged. “Yeah. We’re opening the center up to beginners. Just one class for now, see how it goes. Missy bugged me about it until I agreed—said people would be interested in learning it for self-defense and that we have the best instructors in the city.” He barked out a laugh. “Thirty years of marriage. She knows how to stroke the ol’ ego. So here we are.” “Not to mention, it’s a good business decision.” KMA had little competition in the area, and there was likely pent-up demand for lessons, not to mention loads of yuppies who could afford the prices. Ralph’s eyes twinkled. “That, too.” I took another swig of water, my mind spinning. Beginner lessons… Might be a good idea for Ava. For anyone, really, man or woman. Self-defense is a skill you never want to use, but which could mean the difference between life and death when you do have to use it. Pepper spray only gets you so far. I fired off a quick text to her before Ralph and I started our session. I still wasn’t happy playing babysitter, but Ava and I had settled into a wary “truce”—her word, not mine—since her olive branch the week before. Plus, when I commit to something, I commit to it one hundred percent. No half-assery or phoning it in. I promised Josh I’d look after his sister, and that was what I’d do. Sign her up for self-defense lessons, upgrade her house’s shitty alarm system—she’d thrown a fit when the security company woke her up at seven in the morning to install the new system, but she got over it—whatever it took. The more she stayed out of trouble, the less I had to worry about her and the more I could focus on my business and plan for revenge.

I wouldn’t mind more of those red velvet cookies though. They were good. I especially wouldn’t mind if she delivered them wearing the tiny shorts and tank top she’d worn to my house. An unbidden image of a bead of sweat trailing down her bronzed skin into her cleavage flashed through my mind. I grunted when Ralph landed a punch in my gut. Fuck. That was what I got for allowing my thoughts to stray. I set my jaw and refocused on the training session, pushing all thoughts of Ava Chen and her cleavage out of my head. An hour later, my limbs felt like jelly, and I had several blossoming bruises on my body. I grimaced, stretching out my limbs while the low hum of voices filtered through the closed door to the private studio. “That’s my cue.” Ralph clapped me on the shoulder. “Good session. You might even beat me one day—if you’re lucky.” I smirked. “Fuck you. I can already beat you if I want.” I’d come close to doing it once, but part of me liked the fact I wasn’t the best—yet. It gave me a goal to strive toward. But I would win. I always did. Ralph’s laugh rolled through the sweat-dampened space like thunder. “Keep telling yourself that, kid. See you Tuesday.” After he exited the room, I checked my phone for new messages. Nothing. A tiny furrow creased my brow. I’d texted Ava almost an hour ago, and she was a compulsively fast replier unless she had a photoshoot. She didn’t have one today. I knew because I made her promise to tell me every time she did, along with the location and clients’ names and contact info. I always ran background checks on the clients beforehand. There were crazy people out there. I sent a follow-up text. Waited. Nothing. I called. No answer. Either she’d turned off her phone—something I told her never to do—or she could be in trouble. Blood. Everywhere. On my hands. On my clothes.

My heart rate ticked up. The familiar noose around my neck tightened. I squeezed my eyes shut, focusing on a different day, a different memory—that of me attending my first Krav Maga lesson at sixteen—until the red stains of my past retreated. When I opened them again, anger and worry coalesced into a block in my stomach, and I didn’t bother changing out of my training clothes before I exited the center and took off for Ava’s house. “You better be there,” I muttered. I blocked and flipped off a Mercedes who tried to cut in front of me at Dupont Circle. The driver, an overgroomed lawyer type, glared at me, but I didn’t give a shit. If you can’t drive, get off the road. By the time I arrived at Ava’s place, I still hadn’t received a reply, and a muscle pulsed dangerously in my temple. If she was ignoring me, she was in deep shit. And if she was hurt, I would bury the person responsible six feet beneath the ground. In pieces. “Where is she?” I dispensed of the usual greetings when Jules swung open the door. “Who?” she asked, all doe-eyed innocence. I wasn’t fooled. Jules Ambrose was one of the most dangerous women I’d ever met, and anyone who thought otherwise because of the way she looked and flirted was an idiot. “Ava,” I growled. “She’s not answering her phone.” “Maybe she’s busy.” “Don’t fuck with me, Jules. She could be in trouble, and I know your boss. Wouldn’t take much more than a word from me to derail your internship.” I’d done my research on all of Ava’s closest friends. Jules was pre-law, and the internship between a student’s junior and senior years was critical for admittance into a competitive law school. All traces of flirty coquettishness melted. Jules narrowed her eyes. “Don’t threaten me.” “Don’t play games.” We glared at each other for a minute, precious seconds ticking by before she relented. “She’s not in trouble, okay? She’s with a friend. Like I said, she’s probably busy. She’s not glued to her phone.”

“Address.” “You’re hot, but you can be a real overbearing asshole.” “Address.” Jules huffed out a sigh. “I’m only telling you if I can go with you. To make sure you don’t do anything stupid.” I was already halfway to my car. Five minutes later, we were speeding back to D.C. I was going to bill Josh for all my gas expenses when he returned, just out of spite. “Why are you so concerned? Ava has her own life, and she’s not a dog. She doesn’t have to jump every time you say fetch.” Jules flipped down the visor mirror and retouched her lipstick when we stopped at a red light. “For someone who claims to be her best friend, you’re not concerned enough .” Irritation coiled in my stomach. “When have you known her not to reply within minutes of receiving a text or a call?” “Uh, when she’s in the bathroom. Class. Work. Sleeping. Showering. A photo—” “It’s been almost an hour,” I snapped. Jules shrugged. “Maybe she’s having sex.” A muscle jumped in my jaw. I wasn’t sure which version of Jules was worse—the one who always tried to convince me to mow the lawn shirtless, or the one who relished baiting me. Why couldn’t Ava have lived with one of her other friends? Stella seemed more accommodating, and given her background, Bridget wouldn’t ever say the shit Jules said. But no, I was stuck with the redheaded menace. No wonder Josh always complained about her. “You said she’s with a friend.” I pulled onto the street where said friend’s house was located and parked. “A male friend.” She unbuckled her seatbelt with a beatific smile. “Thanks for the ride and conversation. It was… enlightening.” I didn’t bother asking her what she meant. She’d just feed me a heap of sugar-laced bullshit. While Jules took her sweet time, I exited the car and banged an impatient fist against the front door. It swung open a minute later, revealing a skinny, bespectacled man with confusion stamped on his face when he saw Jules and

me standing there. “Can I help you?” “Where’s Ava?” “She’s upstairs, but who—” I shouldered my way past him, which wasn’t hard considering he weighed a hundred sixty, tops. “Hey, you can’t go up there!” he yelled. “They’re in the middle of something.” Fuck. That. If Ava was having sex—a dangerous rhythm pulsed behind my temple at the thought—that was all the more reason for an interruption. Horny college guys were some of the most dangerous creatures in existence. I wondered if she’d gotten back together with her ex. Josh mentioned the weasel had cheated on her, and she didn’t seem like the type who’d crawl back to someone after they treated her terribly, but I wouldn’t put anything past Miss Sunshine and Roses. That bleeding heart of hers would land her in a heap of trouble one day. Once I reached the second floor, I didn’t need to guess what room she was in—I heard sounds bleeding through the half-open door at the end of the hall. Behind me, Jules and Spectacles pounded up the steps, the latter still blabbering about how I couldn’t be up here even though I was already fucking here. I didn’t know how humans survived this long. Most people were idiots. I opened the door all the way and froze. Not sex. Worse. Ava stood in the middle of the room, clad in a skimpy black lace getup that left little to the imagination. She huddled next to a guy with spiked blond hair holding a camera. They were whispering and laughing while staring at the camera’s display screen, so engrossed in their little tête-à-tête they didn’t notice they had company. My temple pulsed harder. “What…” My voice sliced through the air like a whip. “Is going on here.” It wasn’t a question. I knew what was going on. The setup, the rumpled bed, Ava’s outfit…they were in the middle of a photoshoot. With Ava as the model. Dressed in something that wouldn’t be out of place in Playboy magazine. The strappy concoction Ava wore barely covered the necessary bits. It looped around her neck, baring her shoulders,

and plunged to her navel in the front. The high-cut bottom left her legs and most of her ass bare, and other than the areas covering her breasts and between her legs, the sheer black lace revealed more than it covered. I’d never seen her like this. It wasn’t just the outfit; it was everything. The usually straight black hair that fell in luscious waves down her back, the made-up face with the smoky eyes and glossy red lips, the miles of golden skin and curves that etched themselves into my brain forever. I was caught between disturbing lust—she was my best friend’s sister, for fuck’s sake—and inexplicable fury that other men were seeing her like this. Ava’s eyes widened with alarm when she spotted me. “Alex? What are you doing here?” “I tried to stop him,” Spectacles panted, out of breath. Living proof that skinniness does not equal fitness. “He’s here for you, babe.” Jules leaned against the doorway, her amber eyes glowing with amusement. “You look super hot, by the way. Can’t wait to see the pics.” “You are not seeing the pics ,” I ground out. “No one is seeing the pics .” I yanked the blanket off the bed and tossed it over Ava’s shoulders, covering her up. “We’re leaving. Right now. And Blondie here is deleting every photo he took of you.” Her jaw dropped. “No, I’m not, and no, he’s not. You can’t tell me what to do.” She threw the blanket on the ground and lifted her chin in defiance. “You’re not my father or brother, and even if you were, you have no say in what I do in my free time.” “He’s taking photos of you half-naked,” I snapped. “Do you know how destructive those can be if they’re leaked? If a future employer sees them?” “I volunteered for this,” she snapped back. “It’s boudoir photography. Artistic. People do this all the time. It’s not like I’m baring it all for a porn site. How did you even know I was here?” “Oops,” Jules said from behind us. She didn’t sound sorry at all. “You might as well be.” The simmering in my blood had reached a full boil. “Get. Dressed.” “No-oh.” Ava’s glare intensified, and she dragged out the word “no” until it had two syllables.

“Hey, dude, I don’t mean no harm.” Blondie let out a nervous chuckle. “Like she said, this is art. I’ll edit it so her face is in shadow and no one can tell it’s her. I just need the photos for my port—what are you doing?” He squawked in protest when I snatched the camera out of his hands and started deleting photos but fell silent when I leveled him with a death glare. “Stop! You’re being ridiculous.” Ava tried to retrieve the camera, to no avail. “Do you know how long those photos took? Stop. You are—” She yanked on my arm. It didn’t budge. “Being —” Another yank, same result. “Unreasonable!” “I’m protecting you, since you clearly can’t do it yourself.” My mood darkened further when I saw the pictures of her lying on the bed, staring sultrily at the camera. How long had she and Blondie been doing this, alone? It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had been going through his mind the entire time. It was the same thing that would’ve gone through any red-blooded male’s mind. Sex. I hoped Blondie enjoyed his working pair of eyes while he still had them. Ava stepped back for a minute, then lunged for the camera in a poorly concealed attempt to catch me off guard. I’d expected the move, but I still grunted at the impact as she scrambled over me like a fucking spider monkey. Her breasts grazed my arm, and her hair tickled my skin. My blood heated at the sensations. She was so close I could hear her breath coming out in soft pants. I tried not to notice how her chest heaved or how smooth her skin felt pressed against mine. They were dangerous, twisting thoughts that had no place in my mind. Not now, not ever. “Give it back,” she ordered. It was almost cute how she thought she could order me around. “No.” Ava narrowed her eyes. “If you don’t give it back, I swear to God I’ll walk out into the street wearing this outfit.” Another bolt of fury sizzled through me. “You wouldn’t.” “Try me.” Our faces were inches apart, our words so soft no one could hear them except us.

Nevertheless, I lowered my head so I could whisper right in her ear. “If you step a foot outside this room in that outfit, I’ll not only delete every picture on this camera, but I will destroy your ‘friend’s’ career until he has to resort to advertising shitty five- dollar-an-hour headshots on Craigslist.” A wintry smile touched my lips. “You wouldn’t want that, would you?” There are two ways to threaten people: attack them directly, or attack those they care about. I wasn’t above doing either. Ava’s mouth trembled. She believed me, as she should, because I meant every word. I wasn’t a senator or a lobbyist, but an obscene net worth, thick files of blackmail material, and years of networking had granted me more than my fair share of influence in D.C. “You’re an asshole.” “Yes, I am, and don’t you forget it.” I straightened. “Get dressed.” Ava didn’t argue, but she also refused to look at me as she disappeared into the bathroom across the hall to change. Blondie and Spectacles gaped at me like the devil himself had poofed into their house. Meanwhile, Jules grinned like she was watching the most entertaining movie of the year. I finished deleting the photos and shoved the camera back into Blondie’s hands. “Never ask Ava to do something like this again.” I towered over him, relishing the subtle shake of his shoulders as he tried not to cower. “If you do, I’ll know. And you won’t like what happens next.” “Okay,” Blondie squeaked. The bathroom door opened. Ava brushed past me and said something to Blondie in a low voice. He nodded. She placed a hand on his arm, and my jaw ticked. “Let’s go.” The words came out sharper than I’d intended. Ava finally looked at me, her eyes flashing. “We’ll go when I’m ready.” I didn’t know how Josh dealt with her all these years. Two weeks in, and I already wanted to strangle her. She murmured something else to Blondie before she stalked past me without another word. Jules followed, still grinning. I cast one last glare in Blondie’s direction before I left. Silence permeated the car as we drove back to Thayer. Jules sat in the backseat, tapping away on her phone, while a stone-

faced Ava stared out the window from the passenger seat, her shoulders tight. I didn’t mind silence. I craved it. There were few things I found more irritating than incessant, pointless conversation. The weather, the latest blockbuster, who broke up with who…who the fuck cared? Still, something compelled me to turn on the radio halfway through the drive, though I left the volume so low I almost couldn’t hear the music. “It was for your own good,” I said over the teeny-tiny beats of the latest rap hit. Ava turned her body further away and didn’t respond. Fine. She could be mad all she wanted. The only thing I regretted was not smashing Blondie’s camera altogether. It wasn’t like I cared about her silent treatment. Not one bit.

6 AVA “…T , A again, or I will murder you and your entire family,” Jules finished dramatically before taking a sip of her caramel mocha. “Shut up.” Stella leaned forward, her eyes wide. “He did not say that.” “No, he didn’t.” I shot Jules a disapproving look. “Stop exaggerating.” “How would you know? You were in the bathroom,” she countered. When my frown deepened, she sighed. “Fine. He didn’t say those exact words—at least, not the last part—but the general idea was the same. He did warn Owen away from you though.” Jules ripped off a piece of her cranberry scone and popped it in her mouth. “Poor Owen.” Guilt niggled at me as I traced absentminded patterns on the table. Jules, Stella, Bridget, and I were at The Morning Roast for our weekly Tuesday coffee catch-up, and Jules had been regaling the other girls with a hyperbolized account of what happened at Owen’s house on Saturday. “I wish he hadn’t gotten dragged into this. All those hours of shooting, gone.” I worked with Owen at the McCann Gallery, where I’d served as a gallery assistant for the past year and a half. My father had never said outright he disapproved of me pursuing a photography career, but he’d made it clear that he wouldn’t fund any of my equipment. He paid for my tuition and other school-related expenses, but if I wanted a new lens, camera, or even a tripod? That was all me. I tried not to let his unspoken disapproval bother me. I was beyond lucky I’d graduate with no student loan debt, and I wasn’t

afraid of hard work. The fact I’d shelled out my own money for every piece of equipment made me cherish them a little more, and I enjoyed my job at McCann. It was one of the most prestigious photography galleries in the Northeast, and I loved my coworkers, though I wasn’t sure whether Owen would want anything more to do with me after what Alex had done. Even now, my skin heated with anger at the memory of his overbearing attitude. I couldn’t believe he’d had the gall to show up and boss me around like that. To threaten my friend. To act like I was a…a servant or his employee. Even Josh had never gone that far. I stabbed at my yogurt with my fork, furious. “Sounds like I missed an interesting time.” Bridget sighed. “All the fun stuff happens while I’m away.” Bridget had been attending an event at Eldorra’s New York consulate, as was required of the Princess of Eldorra. That’s right. She was an honest-to-God, real-life princess, second in line to the throne of a small but wealthy European country. She looked the part, too. With her golden hair, deep blue eyes, and elegant bone structure, she could’ve passed for a young Grace Kelly. I hadn’t known who Bridget was when she, Jules, Stella, and I found ourselves assigned to the same suite freshman year. Besides, I would’ve expected a freakin’ princess to have a private room. But that was the great thing about Bridget. Despite her insane upbringing, she was one of the most down-to-earth people I’d ever met. She never pulled rank, and she insisted on living life as a normal college student whenever she could. In that sense, Thayer was the best fit for her. Thanks to its proximity to D.C. and its world-class international politics program, the campus swarmed with political offspring and international royalty. Just the other day, I’d overheard the son of the Speaker of the House and the crown prince of a controversial oil kingdom arguing over video games. You can’t make that stuff up. “Trust me, it was not fun,” I grumbled. “It was humiliating. And I owe Owen a dinner, at least.” My phone flashed with a new text. Liam. Again. I swiped away the notification before any of my friends saw it. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with him or his excuses right now.

“Au contraire, I thought it was hilarious.” Jules finished the rest of her scone. “You should’ve seen Alex’s face. He was pissed. ” “How is that hilarious?” Stella snapped a photo of her latte art before joining the conversation. She was a big fashion and lifestyle blogger with over 400,000 Instagram followers, and we were used to her capturing everything for the ‘Gram. Ironically, for someone with such a big social presence, she was the shyest in the group, but she said the “anonymity” of the Internet made it easier to be herself online. “Did you hear me? He was pissed. ” Jules placed extra emphasis on the last word like it was supposed to mean something. Bridget, Stella, and I stared at her blankly. She sighed, obviously exasperated by our lack of comprehension. “When was the last time any of us saw Alex Volkov pissed? Or happy? Or sad? The man doesn’t show emotion. It’s like God gave him extra helpings of gorgeousness and zero doses of human feeling.” “I think he’s a psychopath,” Stella said. She blushed. “No normal person is that controlled all the time.” I was still upset with Alex, but a strange part of me felt compelled to defend him. “You’ve only met him a few times. He’s not so bad when he’s not…” “Being bad?” Bridget finished. “All I’m saying is, he’s Josh’s best friend, and I trust my brother’s judgment.” Jules snorted. “This the same brother who wore that hideous rat costume to last year’s Halloween party?” I wrinkled my nose while Bridget and Stella burst into laughter. “I said judgment, not taste .” “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Stella tilted her head until her glossy dark curls cascaded over her shoulder. We always joked that she was the United Nations of humans because of her multicultural background—German and Japanese on her mother’s side; Black and Puerto Rican on her father’s side. The result was five foot eleven inches of leggy limbs, deep olive skin, and catlike green eyes. Supermodel material, if she had any interest in being a supermodel, which she didn’t. “It was just an observation, but you’re right. I don’t know him well enough to judge. Statement retracted.”

“I’m not upset. I’m…” I faltered. What the hell was I doing? Alex didn’t need me defending him. It wasn’t like he was here, listening to us. Even if he were, he wouldn’t care. If there was one person in the world who didn’t give a shit what others thought of him, it was Alex Volkov. “Guys, you’re missing the point.” Jules waved a hand in the air. “The point is, Alex did show emotion. Over Ava. We could have fun with this.” Oh, no. Jules’s idea of “fun” usually involved a heap of trouble and a potential dose of embarrassment on my part. “What kind of fun?” Bridget looked intrigued. “Bridge!” I kicked her under the table. “Don’t encourage her.” “Sorry.” The blonde made a face. “But all I have going on lately are…” She glanced around to make sure no one was listening. They weren’t, except for her bodyguard Booth, who sat at the table behind us and pretended to read the paper while actually keeping a sharp eye on the surroundings. “Diplomatic events and ceremonial duties. It’s terribly boring. Meanwhile, my grandfather’s sick, my brother’s acting weird, and I need something to take my mind off it all.” Her grandfather and brother, AKA King Edvard and Crown Prince Nikolai of Eldorra. I had to remind myself they were human beings like everyone else, but even after years of friendship with Bridget, I wasn’t used to her speaking so casually about her family. Like they weren’t literal royalty. “I have a theory.” Jules leaned forward, and the rest of us, even me, leaned in, eager to hear what she had to say. Call it morbid curiosity, because I was sure I wouldn’t like what was about to come out of her mouth. I was right. “Ava somehow gets under Alex’s skin,” Jules said. “We should see how far it goes. How much can she make him feel?” I rolled my eyes. “All those long hours you put in at your internship must’ve scrambled your brain, because you’re not making any sense.” She ignored me. “I call it…” Dramatic pause. “Operation Emotion.” She looked up and drew an arc with her hand like the words would magically appear in the air. “Creative,” Stella teased.

“Hear me out. We all think Alex is a robot, right? Well, what if she …” Jules pointed at me. “…can prove he isn’t? Don’t tell me you guys don’t want to see him act like an actual human being for once.” “No.” I tossed my empty coffee cup into the nearest trash can and almost beaned a passing student in a Thayer sweatshirt. I winced and mouthed “sorry” before returning to the ridiculous proposition at hand. “That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.” “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” my so-called best friend sang. “What would be the point?” I threw my hands in the air. “How would it even work?” “Simple.” Jules pulled a pen and notepad out of her bag and started scribbling. “We come up with a list of emotions, and you try to make him feel each one. It’ll be a test of sorts. Like giving him an annual physical to make sure he’s functioning properly.” “Sometimes,” Bridget said. “The way your mind works scares me.” “No,” I repeated. “Not happening.” “It does seem kind of…mean.” Stella tapped her gold-polished nails on the table. “What emotions did you have in mind?” “Stel!” “What?” She cast a guilty look in my direction. “I’m curious.” “Off the top of my head? We’ve already seen him angry, so happiness, sadness, fear, disgust…” A wicked smile slashed across Jules’s face. “Jealousy.” I snorted. “Please. He’d never be jealous of me.” He was a multimillionaire executive with a genius-level IQ; I was a college student who worked two jobs and ate cereal for dinner. No contest. “Not jealous of you. Jealous over you.” Bridget perked up. “You think he likes Ava?” “No. ” I was tired of saying that word. “He’s my brother’s best friend, and I’m not his type. He told me so.” “Psshh.” Jules waved away my protest like she would a mosquito. “Men don’t know what they want. Besides, don’t you want to get back at him for what he did to Owen?” “I don’t,” I said firmly. “And I’m not going along with this crazy idea.”

Forty-five minutes later, we decided Phase One of Operation Emotion would commence in three days. I HATED MYSELF FOR CAVING. Somehow, Jules always convinced me to do things against my better instincts, like that time we drove four hours to Brooklyn to watch some band perform because she thought the lead singer was hot, and we ended up stranded in the middle of the highway when our rental car broke down. Or that time she convinced me to write a love poem to the cute guy in my English lit class, only for his girlfriend—who I hadn’t known existed—to find it and hunt me down in my dorm. Jules was the most persuasive person I’d ever met. A good quality for an aspiring lawyer, but not so much for an innocent friend, i.e. me, who wanted to stay out of trouble. That night, I climbed into bed and closed my eyes, trying to sort through my racing thoughts. Operation Emotion was supposed to be a fun, lighthearted experiment, but it made me nervous, and not just because it erred on the side of mean- spirited. Everything about Alex made me nervous. I shuddered, thinking of how he’d retaliate if he found out what we were up to, and thoughts of being flayed alive consumed me until I fell into a light, fitful sleep. “Help! Mommy, help me!” I tried to scream those words, but I couldn’t. I shouldn’t. Because I was underwater, and if I opened my mouth, all the water would rush in, and I would never see Mommy and Daddy and Josh again. That was what they told me. They also told me not to go near the lake by myself, but I wanted to make pretty ripples in the water. I liked those ripples, liked how throwing one little stone could cause such a big effect. Only those ripples were suffocating me now. Thousands and thousands of them, dragging me further and further from the light above my head. Tears trickled from my eyes, but the lake swallowed them and buried my panic until it was just me and my silent pleas.

I’m never getting out never getting out never getting out. “Mommy, help!” I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I screamed, screamed as loud as my little lungs allowed. Screamed until my throat was raw and I felt like I would pass out, or maybe that was the water rushing in, filling my chest. So much water. Everywhere. And no air. Not enough air. I thrashed my arms and legs in hopes it would help, but it didn’t. It made me sink faster. I cried harder—not physically, because I couldn’t tell the difference between crying and existing anymore—but in my heart. Where was Mommy? She was supposed to be here. Mommies were always supposed to be with their daughters. And she had been there with me on the deck, watching me… until she hadn’t. Had she returned? What if she was sinking beneath the water too? The blackness was coming. I saw it, felt it. My brain went fuzzy, and my eyes drooped. I didn’t have the energy to scream anymore, so I mouthed the words. “Mommy, please…” I jerked upright, my heart beating a million drums of warning while my faded screams soaked into the walls. My covers twisted around my legs, and I threw them off, my skin crawling at the sensation of being entangled—of being trapped with no way to free myself. The glowing red letters of my alarm clock told me it was four forty-four a.m. A pinprick of dread blossomed at the base of my neck and slithered down my spine. In Chinese culture, the number four is considered unlucky because the word for it sounds like the word “death.” Sì, four; sǐ , death. The only difference between their pronunciation is a tone inflection. I’ve never been a superstitious person, but chills swamped me every time I awoke from one of my nightmares during the four a.m. hour, which was almost always. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d awoken during a different hour. Sometimes I woke up not remembering I had a nightmare, but those blessed occasions were far and few in between. I heard the soft patter of footsteps in the hall and schooled my features into something other than stark terror before the door opened and Jules slipped inside. She flicked on the lamp, and

guilt swirled through me when I saw her rumpled hair and exhausted face. She worked long hours and needed sleep, but she always checked on me even after I insisted she stay in bed. “How bad was it?” she asked softly. My bed sank beneath her weight as she sat next to me and handed me a mug of thyme tea. She’d read online that it helped with nightmares and started making it for me a few months ago. It helped—I hadn’t had a nightmare in over two weeks, which was a record, but I guess my good luck ran out. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” My hands trembled so much liquid spilled over the side of the mug and dripped onto my favorite Bugs Bunny shirt from high school. “Go back to sleep, J. You have a presentation today.” “Fuck that.” Jules raked a hand through her tangled red hair. “I’m already up. Besides, it’s almost five. I bet there are dozens of overambitious, Lululemon-wearing fitness junkies jogging outside right now.” I mustered a weak smile. “I’m sorry. I swear, we can soundproof my room.” I wasn’t sure how much that would cost, but I’d deal with it. I didn’t want to keep waking her up. “How about no? That’s totally unnecessary. You’re my best friend.” Jules wrapped me into a tight hug, and I allowed myself to sink into her comforting embrace. Sure, she led me into dubious situations sometimes, but she’d been my ride or die since freshman year, and I wouldn’t have anyone else by my side. “Everyone has nightmares.” “Not like me.” I’d had these nightmares—these awful, vivid nightmares that I feared weren’t nightmares at all, but actual memories—for as long as I could remember. For me, that was the age of nine. Everything before that was a haze, a canvas peppered with faint shadows of my life before The Blackout, as I called the divide between my forgotten childhood and my later years. “Stop. It’s not your fault, and I don’t mind. Seriously.” Jules pulled back and smiled. “You know me. I’d never say something was okay if I wasn’t actually okay with it.” I let out a soft laugh and set the now-empty mug on my nightstand. “True.” I squeezed her hand. “I’m fine. Go back to sleep, jog, or make yourself a caramel mocha or something.”

She scrunched up her nose. “Me, jog? I don’t think so. Cardio and I parted ways a long time ago. Plus, you know I can’t work a coffee machine. That’s why I blow all my paychecks at The Morning Roast.” She examined me, a tiny crease marring her smooth brow. “Give me a holler if you need anything, okay? I’m right down the hall, and I don’t leave for work until seven.” “‘Kay. Love you.” “Love you, babe.” Jules gave me one last hug before she left and closed the door behind her with a soft click. I sank back into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin, trying to fall asleep again even though I knew it was a futile exercise. But even though I was tucked beneath my comforter in a well-insulated room in the middle of summer, the chill remained— a ghostly specter warning me that the past is never past, and the future never unfolds the way we want it to.

7 ALEX “D’ .” I poured myself a cup of coffee, leaned against the counter, and took a leisurely sip before responding. “I’m not sure why you’re calling me, Andrew. I’m the COO. You should talk to Ivan.” “That’s bullshit,” Andrew spat. “You pull the strings behind the scenes, and everyone knows it.” “Then everyone is wrong, which wouldn’t be the first time.” I checked my Patek Philippe watch. Limited edition, hermetically sealed and waterproof, the stainless-steel timepiece had set me back a cool twenty grand. I’d bought it after I sold my financial modeling software for eight figures, one month after my fourteenth birthday. “Ah, it’s almost time for my nightly meditation session.” I didn’t meditate, and we both knew it. “I wish you the best. I’m sure you’ll have a flourishing second career as a busker. You took band in high school, didn’t you?” “Alex, please.” Andrew’s voice turned pleading. “I have a family. Kids. My oldest daughter is starting college soon. Whatever you have against me, don’t drag them or my employees into it.” “But I don’t have anything against you, Andrew,” I said conversationally, taking another sip of coffee. Most people didn’t drink espresso this late for fear of not being able to sleep, but I didn’t have that problem. I could never sleep. “This is business. Nothing personal.” It baffled me that people still didn’t get it. Personal appeals had no place in the corporate world. It was eat or get eaten, and I for one had no grand aspirations of becoming prey. Only the strongest survived, and I had every intention of remaining at the top of the food chain.

“Alex—” I tired of hearing my name. It was always Alex this, Alex that. People begging for time, money, attention or, worst of all, affection. It was a fucking chore. It really was. “Good night.” I hung up before he could make another plea for mercy. There was nothing sadder than seeing—or, in this case, hearing—a CEO reduced to a beggar. The hostile takeover of Gruppmann Enterprises would go ahead as planned. I wouldn’t have cared about the company, except it was a useful pawn in the grand scheme of things. Archer Group was a real estate development company, but in five, ten, twenty years, it’d be so much more. Telecommunications, e-commerce, finance, energy…the world was ripe for my taking. Gruppmann was a small fish in the finance industry, but it was a stepping stone toward my bigger ambitions. I wanted to iron out all the kinks before I took on the sharks. Besides, Andrew was an asshole. I knew for a fact that he’d quietly settled with several of his past secretaries out of court over sexual harassment charges. I blocked Andrew’s number for good measure and made a mental note to fire my assistant for allowing my personal cell information to slip into the hands of someone outside my tightly controlled contacts list. She’d already fucked up several times— paperwork with errors, appointments scheduled for the wrong times, missed calls from VIPs—and this was the last straw. I’d only kept her on so long as a favor to her father, a congressman who wanted his daughter to get “real work experience,” but her experience was over as of eight a.m. tomorrow morning. I’d deal with her father later. Silence hummed in the air as I placed my coffee cup in the sink and walked toward the living room. I sank onto the couch and closed my eyes, letting my chosen images play through my mind. I didn’t meditate, but this was my own fucked-up form of therapy. October 29, 2006. My first birthday as an orphan. It sounded depressing when I put it like that, but it wasn’t sad. It just…was. I didn’t care about birthdays. They were meaningless, dates on a calendar that people celebrated because it made them feel

special when, in reality, they weren’t special at all. How could birthdays be special when everyone had one? I used to think they were special because my parents always made a big deal out of it. One year, they took the entire family and six of my closest friends to Six Flags in New Jersey, where we ate hot dogs and rode roller coasters until we puked. Another year, they bought me the latest PlayStation, and I was the envy of my class. But some things were the same every year. I’d stay in bed, pretending to be asleep while my parents “snuck” into my bedroom wearing goofy paper cone hats and carrying my favorite breakfast—blueberry pancakes drenched in syrup with hash browns and crispy bacon on the side. My dad would hold my breakfast while my mom tackled me and yelled, “Happy birthday!” and I’d laugh and scream while she tickled me fully awake. It was the one day of the year they let me eat breakfast in bed. After my sister was old enough to walk, she’d join them, climbing over me and messing up my hair while I complained about girl cooties getting all over my room. Now they were gone. No more family trips, no more blueberry pancakes and bacon. No more birthdays that mattered. My uncle tried. He bought me a big chocolate cake and brought me to a popular arcade in town. I sat at a table in the dining area, staring out the window. Thinking. Remembering. Analyzing. I hadn’t touched any of the arcade games. “Alex, go play,” my uncle said. “It’s your birthday.” He sat across from me, a powerfully built man with salt and pepper hair and light brown eyes almost identical to my father’s. He wasn’t a handsome man, but he was vain, so his hair was always perfectly coiffed and his clothes perfectly pressed. Today, he wore a sharp blue suit that looked woefully out of place amongst all the sticky children and haggard-faced, T-shirt-clad parents roaming through the arcade. I hadn’t seen Uncle Ivan often before “That Day.” He and my father had a falling out when I was seven, and my father never spoke of him again. Even so, Uncle Ivan had taken me in instead of letting me drift through the foster system, which was nice of him, I guess. “I don’t want to play.” I rapped my knuckles against the table. Knock. Knock. Knock. One. Two. Three. Three gunshots. Three

bodies falling to the floor. I squeezed my eyes shut and used all my strength to shove those images out of my head. They’d return, as they had every day since That Day. But I wasn’t dealing with them now, in the middle of a stinky suburban arcade with cheap blue carpet and water ring stains on the table. I hated my “gift.” But short of carving out my brain, I couldn’t do anything about it, so I learned to live it with it. And one day, I would weaponize it. “What do you want?” Uncle Ivan asked. I shifted my gaze to meet his. He held it for a few seconds before dropping his eyes. People never used to do that. But ever since my family’s murder, they acted differently. When I looked at them, they would look away—not because they pitied me, but because they feared me, some base survival instinct deep inside them screaming at them to run and never look back. It was silly, adults fearing an eleven—now twelve—year-old- boy. But I didn’t blame them. They had reason to be afraid. Because one day, I would tear the world apart with my bare hands and force it to pay for what it had taken from me. “What I want, Uncle,” I said, my voice still registering the clear, high pitch of a boy who had not yet hit puberty. “Is revenge.” I opened my eyes and exhaled slowly, letting the memory wash over me. That was the moment I’d found my purpose, and I’d replayed it every day for fourteen years. I’d had to see a therapist for a few years after my family’s death. More than one, actually, because none made any inroads and my uncle kept replacing them in the hopes one would stick. They never did. But they all told me the same thing—that my obsessive focus on the past would impede my healing process and that I needed to focus my energy on other, more constructive pursuits. A few suggested art while others suggested sports. I suggested they shove their suggestions up their ass. Those therapists didn’t get it. I didn’t want to heal. I wanted to burn. I wanted to bleed. I wanted to feel every scorching lick of pain. And soon, the person responsible for that pain would feel it too. One thousandfold.

8 AVA OPERATION EMOTION: PHASE SADNESS I came armed for battle. I applied makeup, brushed my hair, and wore my favorite white cotton sundress with yellow daisies at the bottom. It was both pretty and comfortable, and it showed off just enough cleavage to intrigue. Liam had loved it. Whenever I wore it, we ended up at his place and my dress ended up on the floor. I’d considered throwing the outfit away after we broke up because he’d loved it, but I thought better of it. I refused to let him ruin the good things for me, whether it was a dress or mint chocolate ice cream, which he used to buy me whenever I had my period cravings. I figured looking good couldn’t hurt if I was angling for an unannounced evening moviethon with Alex. I couldn’t think of any good ideas to make him sad without being a total bitch, so I’d chosen the neutral option of sad movies. They worked on everyone. Yes, even men. I saw Josh cry once at the end of Titanic, though he claimed it was allergies and threatened to toss my camera from the top of the Washington Monument if I told anyone. Yeah, right. A decade later, and he still couldn’t shut up about how there’d been room for Jack on the door. I agreed with him, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t make fun of him. Since Alex was a teensy bit more reserved than Josh, I skipped Titanic and brought out the big guns: A Walk to Remember (sadder than The Notebook ) and Marley and Me. I knocked on the door to Alex’s house. To my surprise, it opened less than two seconds later.

“Hey, I—” I stopped. Stared. I’d expected to see Alex in a suit from the office or casual loungewear, though nothing he owned was really casual. Even his T-shirts cost hundreds of dollars. Instead, he wore a deep gray shirt tucked into dark denim jeans and a tailored black Hugo Boss blazer. Awfully dressy for a Thursday night. “Did I catch you on your way out?” I tried to peer behind him and see if he had company, but Alex’s frame blocked most of the doorway. “Should I move so you have a clearer view of my living room?” he asked sardonically. Heat scorched my cheeks. Busted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Your living room isn’t that interesting,” I fibbed. “Lack of color. No personal effects.” What am I saying? Someone stop me. “The painting’s ugly too.” Stop me now. “ Could use a woman’s touch.” Fuck. Me. Sideways. I did not just say that. Alex’s lips pressed together. Had he been anyone else, I could’ve sworn he was trying not to laugh. “I see. The painting technically belongs to Josh, you know.” “Which should’ve been the first red flag.” This time, a tiny smirk did touch Alex’s mouth. “To answer your question, I was on the way out. I have a date.” I blinked. Alex on a date. Did not compute. Because of course the guy dated. Look at him. But I’d never heard or seen evidence of activity in his love life, unless you counted the women throwing themselves at him wherever he went, so I’d assumed he was one of those workaholics who had an exclusive relationship with his job. I mean, we’d been neighbors for over a month, and I hadn’t seen him bring a single woman home—though admittedly, I wasn’t watching his house twenty-four-seven like a total creep. The thought of Alex dating was…strange. That was the only word I could use to describe the niggling feeling in my stomach, the one that made my skin itch and my pulse beat double time. “Ah, don’t want to hold you up then.” I stepped back and tripped over nothing, because of course I did. He reached out to steady me, and my heart jumped. It wasn’t a big, cheerleading

competition worthy jump. It was just a tiny skip, really. But it was enough to fluster me further. “I’ll see you later.” “Since you’re already here, might as well tell me why.” Alex was still holding my arm, and the heat from his touch seared me to the bone. “I assume this means the cold shoulder treatment is over.” I’d been ignoring him for days since he stormed into Owen’s house like an overbearing, green-eyed tornado. It was the longest I’d ever held onto my anger. Being upset was exhausting, and I had better things to do with my time, but I’d wanted to make a point, which was that he couldn’t barge in and try to take over my life without consequences. “For the most part.” I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t do that again.” “Don’t parade in front of other men half-naked, and I won’t have to.” “I was not parading—” His words clicked into place. “Other men?” Alex dropped my arm, his eyes growing even more glacial. “Tell me why you’re here, Ava. Is someone bothering you?” His gaze sharpened. “Liam?” An obvious attempt to change the subject, but my head spun too much for me to call him out on it. “No. It was nothing. Jules is on a date and I’m bored, so I thought I’d see if you wanted to hang out.” I realized I should’ve come up with a less pathetic, more convincing excuse for why I’d shown up to his house unannounced on a Thursday night, especially since we weren’t friends per se, but it was too late. See, this was why I’d never make it as a spy or lawyer. Jules would be so disappointed in me. “You’re a terrible liar.” Alex looked unimpressed. “Tell me the real reason you’re here.” Crap. I had to come up with another excuse? It wasn’t like I could let him know about Operation Emotion. “I figured you could use the company now that Josh isn’t here,” I said. “I haven’t seen you hang out with anyone else since he left, so I thought you might be lonely?” The sentence morphed into a question when I realized how dumb that logic was, because duh, Alex’s life didn’t revolve around his house. He may not throw house parties every week like Josh, but he probably ate out with

friends and attended sports games like everyone else. “Which obviously isn’t the case, since you’re going on a date,” I added quickly. “So, I’ll hop on back to my place, and you can forget this ever happened. Enjoy your date!” “Stop.” I froze, my heart thundering against my chest as I wondered how this encounter had gone so off the rails. The funny thing was, it wasn’t actually off the rails; it just felt like it. Alex widened the door and stepped aside. “Come in.” What? “But your date.” “Let me worry about her. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but since you broke your silent treatment to come over and ‘hang out,’ something must be wrong.” The seed of guilt blossomed into a full-blown tree, trunk and all, in my stomach. This was supposed to be a harmless experiment. I didn’t want him to cancel his scheduled plans for me. But as I followed Alex into the living room, the thought that he was no longer going to dinner or whatever he’d had planned with some beautiful, mysterious woman pleased me more than it should have. I stifled a laugh at Alex’s expression when he caught sight of the movies I’d brought over. “Not a Mandy Moore fan?” I teased, popping the DVD into the player and curling up on the couch while the pre-movie credits played. I still owned DVDs the way I still owned paperback books. There was just something so magical about holding your favorite items rather than seeing them onscreen. “I don’t have anything against Mandy Moore, but I’m not a fan of maudlin or melodrama.” Alex shrugged off his blazer and draped it over the back of the couch. His shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, and the top two buttons were undone, revealing a sliver of his chest and sexy collarbones. I hadn’t thought collarbones could be sexy, but here we were. I swallowed hard. “It is not maudlin or melodrama. It’s romantic.” “Doesn’t she die in the end?” “Way to spoil it,” I grumbled. He shot me a disbelieving look. “You’ve already watched it.” “But have you?”

“I know what happens. People wouldn’t shut up about it when it first came out.” “Shh.” I nudged his leg with my foot. “Movie’s starting.” He sighed. I loved A Walk to Remember, but I snuck peeks at Alex throughout the film, hoping to catch some sort of reaction. None. Nada. Zilch, even during Jamie and Landon’s wedding. “How are you not crying?” I demanded, brushing away my tears with the back of my hand after the end credits rolled. “This movie is so sad.” “It’s fiction.” Alex grimaced. “Stop crying.” “I can’t stop when I feel like it. It’s a biological reaction.” “Biological reactions can be mastered.” I couldn’t resist—I scooted closer to him on the couch and pushed his shoulders forward so I could run my palm down his back. His muscles bunched beneath my touch. “What,” he said in a tight, controlled voice. “Are you doing?” “I’m searching for your control panel.” I patted his back, trying —and failing—not to notice the sculpted contours of his muscles. I’d never seen Alex shirtless, but I imagined it was glorious. “You must be a robot.” I received a stony glare in response. See? Robot. “Do you have to swap out your batteries, or are you rechargeable?” I teased. “Should I call you R2-D—” I yelped when he grabbed my arm and spun me around until I straddled one of his legs. My blood roared in my ears as he tightened his grip on my wrist—not enough to hurt, but enough to warn me he could easily break me if he wanted. Our eyes locked, and the roaring intensified. Beneath those jade pools of ice, I glimpsed a spark of something that sent heat curling through my stomach. “I’m not a toy, Ava,” Alex said, his voice lethally soft. “Don’t play with me unless you want to get hurt.” I swallowed my fear. “You wouldn’t hurt me.” That mysterious spark crystallized into anger. “This is why Josh was so worried about you. You are trusting to a fault.” He leaned forward a fraction of an inch, and it was all I could do not to lean back. Alex’s presence crackled with coiled energy, and I had the unnerving sense that beneath all that ice lay a volcano waiting

to erupt—and God help whoever was around when that happened. “Don’t try to humanize me. I’m not a tortured hero from one of your romantic fantasies. You have no idea what I’m capable of, and just because I promised Josh I’d look after you doesn’t mean I can protect you from yourself and your bleeding heart.” Pink blossomed on my face and chest. I was torn between fear and fury—fear of that hard, unyielding look in his eyes; fury over how he spoke to me like I was a naïve child who couldn’t tie her shoelaces without hurting herself. “This seems like an overreaction to a simple joke,” I said, my jaw tight. “I’m sorry I touched you without permission, but you could’ve told me to stop instead of giving me an entire speech about how you think I’m a helpless idiot.” His nostrils flared. “I don’t think you’re a helpless idiot.” My anger edged out my fear. “Yes, you do. You and Josh both. You always say you want to ‘protect’ me like I’m not a grown woman who’s perfectly capable of handling herself. Just because I see the good in people doesn’t mean I’m an idiot. I think optimism is a good trait, and I feel sorry for people who go through life believing the worst of others.” “That’s because they’ve seen the worst.” “People see what they want to see,” I countered. “Are there awful people in the world? Yes. Do awful things happen? Yes. But wonderful people exist and wonderful things happen too, and if you focus too much on the negative, you miss all the positive.” Utter silence, made all the more awkward by the fact that I was still straddling Alex’s leg. I was sure he would yell at me, but to my shock, Alex’s face relaxed into a hint of a smile. His fingers grazed the small of my back, and I almost jumped out of my skin. “Those rose-tinted glasses look good on you, Sunshine.” Sunshine? I was sure he meant that mockingly, but the butterflies in my stomach stirred to life anyway, fanning away my anger. Traitors. “Thanks. You can borrow them. You need them more than I do,” I said pointedly. A low chuckle slipped from his throat, and I almost fell to the floor in shock. Tonight was turning out to be a night of firsts.

Alex’s hand trailed up my spine until it rested on the back of my neck, leaving a cascade of tingles in their wake. “I feel it dripping all over me.” He did not—what? An inferno consumed my body. “You’re—you—no, I’m not!” I sputtered, pushing him away and scrambling off him. My core pulsed. Oh my God, what if I was? I couldn’t look, afraid I’d see a telltale wet spot on his jeans. I’d have to move to Antarctica. Build myself an ice cave and learn to speak penguin because I could never show my face in Hazelburg, D.C., or any city where I could run into Alex Volkov again. His chuckle blossomed into a full-blown laugh. The effect of his real smile was so devastating, even amid my mortification, that all I could do was stare at the way his face lit up and the sparkle that transformed his eyes from beautiful to downright breathtaking. Holy crap. Perhaps I should be grateful he never smiled, because if that was what he looked like while doing it… womankind didn’t stand a chance. “I’m talking about your bleeding heart,” he drawled. “What did you think I was talking about?” “I—you—” Forget Antarctica. I had to move to Mars. Alex’s laughter subsided, but the twinkle in his eyes remained. “What’s the next movie?” “Excuse me?” He angled his chin toward the DVD on the table. “You brought two movies. What’s the second one?” The sudden subject change gave me whiplash, but I wasn’t complaining. I didn’t want to speak about my dripping anything with Alex. Ever. My thighs clenched, and I gritted out, “Marley & Me.” “Put it in.” Put it—oh, the DVD. I needed to get my mind out of the gutter. While the opening credits played, I sat as far away from Alex as possible and “casually” placed two throw pillows between us for good measure. He didn’t say anything, but I saw his smirk out of the corner of my eye. I was so focused on not looking at him I barely paid attention to the movie, but an hour later, when my eyes drooped and sleep beckoned, I was still thinking about his smile.

9 ALEX I J I A . T asshole always put me in situations I didn’t want to be in. Case in point: sleeping in the same room as his sister. I’m sure he would be even less happy about it than I was, but I hadn’t set up the guest room—I never had guests, not if I could help it—and it was pouring outside, so I couldn’t bring her home without both of us getting drenched. I could’ve left her on the couch, but she would’ve been damn uncomfortable. I kicked open the door to my room and set her on the bed. She didn’t stir. My eyes lingered on her form, noticing details I had no business noticing. Her dark hair fanned out beneath her like a blanket of black silk long enough for me to wrap my fist around, and her skirt rode up, baring an inch more thigh than modest. Her skin looked smoother than silk, and I had to clench my hands to refrain from touching her. My mind flashed back to earlier in the night. Her skin had turned the prettiest shade of red when I made my “dripping” comment, and while I’d joked about her bleeding heart, a part of me—a very large part—had wanted to bend her over my knee, yank up her skirt, and find out just how wet she was. Because I’d seen the lust in those big, brown eyes—she’d been turned on. And if she hadn’t moved away when she did… I tore my gaze away, my jaw clenching at the unwelcome thoughts crowding my brain. I shouldn’t have been thinking about my best friend’s sister this way, but something had shifted. I wasn’t sure when or how, but I’d started seeing Ava less as Josh’s baby sister and more as a

woman. A beautiful, pure-hearted but feisty woman who might be the death of me one of these days. I never should’ve invited her in earlier. I should’ve gone on my date with Madeline like I’d planned, but truth be told, I couldn’t stand Madeline’s company outside the bedroom. She was gorgeous, rich, sophisticated, and understood she’d get nothing more than a physical relationship out of me, but she insisted on being wined and dined before each of our sex sessions. I only obliged because the woman fucked like a porn star. A night in with Ava, as bad of an idea as it had turned out to be, had sounded far more appealing than another tiresome meal at a generic fancy restaurant where Madeline preened and pretended we were a couple in front of D.C.’s movers and shakers. She didn’t expect any strings from our arrangement, but she liked status symbols, and I—as one of the richest, most eligible bachelors in the DMV area, according to Mode de Vie ’s latest Power Issue—was a status symbol. I didn’t care. I used her; she used me. We got orgasms out of it. It was a mutually beneficial relationship, but my arrangement with Madeline had run its course. Her less-than-pleased reaction when I called to tell her I couldn’t make it tonight had cemented my decision. Madeline had no claim over me, and if she thought a few dinners and blowjobs would change my mind, she was sorely mistaken. I lifted Ava so I could tuck her beneath the covers. I’d expected her to sleep with a dreamy smile like the one she always wore when she was awake. Instead, her brows were drawn, her mouth tight, her breathing shallow. I almost smoothed a hand over her brow before I caught myself. Instead, I changed into a pair of black sweats, flicked off the light, and climbed into the other side of bed. A gentleman would sleep on the couch or the floor, but of all the insults people had thrown my way over the years, “gentleman” wasn’t one of them. I laced my hands behind my head, trying to ignore the soft female presence beside me. Sleep wasn’t forthcoming, per usual, but instead of flipping to a specific day in my mental scrapbook, I let my mind wander as it pleased.

November 27, 2013. “Trust me, dude, my dad will be thrilled he has someone to talk football with.” Josh hopped out of the car. “Me being an NBA instead of NFL guy is his biggest disappointment.” I smirked, following him up the driveway toward his family’s imposing brick house in the Maryland suburbs. It wasn’t as large as my mansion on the outskirts of Philadelphia where I lived with my uncle, but it must’ve cost at least a million or two. Thick hedges lined the stone path leading up to the massive mahogany front door, and a fall-themed wreath of flowers accented with a silky bow hung over the brass door knocker. “My sister’s doing, most likely,” Josh said, noticing my gaze. “My dad hates all that shit, but Ava loves it.” I knew little about his sister other than that she was a few years younger than us, and she liked photography. Josh had bought her a secondhand DSLR camera from eBay for Christmas because she kept dropping “hints” about it whenever they spoke on the phone. I met Josh’s father first. He sat in the living room, watching the Cowboys versus Lions game like Josh had predicted. Michael was shorter than his son, but his chiseled face and sharp eyes made him appear taller than his five-foot-eight inches. “Nice to meet you, sir.” I held his gaze, unflinching, when I shook his head. Michael grunted a response. Josh was a third-generation Chinese-American, which meant his father had been born in the U.S. Michael had been the model son, a straight-A student who’d attended top-tier schools and founded a successful company despite the fact his own parents never finished high school. Similar to my father, except mine had been born in Ukraine and immigrated to the U.S. in his teens. My chest tightened. When Josh found out I had no family to celebrate Thanksgiving with other than my uncle, who couldn’t care less about the holiday, he’d invited me to celebrate with the Chens. I was both grateful and somewhat irritated. I hated being the object of anyone’s pity. “Josh, have you—oh.” The female voice behind me halted. I turned, my cool gaze assessing the petite brunette in front of me. She wasn’t actually that short—probably five foot five, but

compared to my six-three, she was miniature-sized. With her rosebud lips and delicate face, she resembled a doll. She beamed, and I fought a grimace. It wasn’t normal for smiles to be that bright. “Hi! I’m Ava, Josh’s sister. You must be Alex.” She held out her hand. I stared at it long enough that her smile faded, replaced with an uncomfortable expression, and Josh nudged me in the ribs. “Dude,” he coughed out the side of his mouth. I finally shook her hand. It was tiny and delicate, and I couldn’t help thinking how easy it would be to crush it. This girl and her sunshiney smile wouldn’t last a day in the real world, where monsters lurked around every corner and people hid their dark intentions behind masks. I was sure of it. A scream yanked me out of my memories and into real life again, where the shadows grew long and the body next to mine writhed with distress. “Stop!” Stark terror drenched Ava’s voice. “No! Help! ” Five seconds later, I’d turned on the bedside lamp and was out of bed, gun in hand. I always kept a firearm by my side, and I’d installed a new, top-of-the-line security system right after I moved in. I didn’t know how an intruder got past all the defenses without triggering an alarm, but they picked the wrong house to break into. When I looked around though, I didn’t see anyone else in the room. “Please, stop!” Ava twisted on the bed, her face pale. Her eyes were wide open but unseeing. “He—” She choked like she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs. Nightmare. My shoulders relaxed before tensing again. She wasn’t having a nightmare; she was having night terrors. Powerful ones, if her reaction was anything to go by. Ava screamed again, and my heart tripped. I almost wished there were an intruder so I had something physical to fight. I couldn’t wake or restrain her; that was the worst thing you could do when someone had night terrors. All I could do was wait for the episode to pass. I left the bedside lamp on and kept an eye on her in case she hurt herself with all the thrashing. I hated feeling helpless, but I

knew better than anyone that no one can fight our mental battles for us. Half an hour later, Ava’s screams had quieted, but I continued my vigil. It wasn’t like I could sleep. My insomnia meant I only slept two or three hours a night, though I often crashed for naps in the middle of the day when I could. I opened my laptop and was reviewing new business documents when my phone pinged. Josh: Yo, I’m bored. Guess I wasn’t the only person who couldn’t sleep tonight. Me: What do you want me to do about it? Josh: Entertain me. Me: Fuck you. I’m not your circus monkey. Josh: I woke up my roommate, I snorted so loud. You should def dress up as a circus monkey for Halloween. Me: Only if you dress up as an ass. Sorry, I mean donkey. Me: You’re already an ass. Josh: What a comedian. Don’t quit your day job. Josh: P.S. You think I won’t do it? I’ll do it just so I can blackmail you with the monkey pics. Me: You don’t tell someone you want to blackmail them before getting the blackmail material, dumbass. As Josh and I joked and gave each other shit, I glanced to my side, where Ava slept with her face buried in one of my pillows. A trickle of something that might’ve been guilt wormed its way into my stomach, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t like we’d messed around. Besides, sleeping in the same bed as my best friend’s sister wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever done…or would do. Not by a long shot.

10 AVA S , . I wanted to wrap it around me like a blanket. I snuggled closer to the source, enjoying the strong, solid warmth beneath my cheek. I didn’t want to wake up, but I’d promised Bridget I would volunteer at a local pet shelter with her this morning, before my afternoon shift at the gallery. I allowed myself one more minute of coziness—had my bed always been this big and soft—before I opened my eyes and yawned. Weird. My room looked different. No photograph prints papering the walls, no vase of sunflowers by the bed. And did my bed just move by itself? My eyes latched onto the broad expanse of bare skin beneath me, and my stomach dropped. I looked up, up—straight into a pair of familiar green eyes. Eyes that stared back at me with no hint of the humor from last night. He flicked his gaze down. I followed it…and realized, to my abject horror, that I was touching Alex Volkov’s dick. Unintentionally, and he had on sweats, but still. I. Was. Touching. Alex. Volkov’s. Dick. And it was hard. Mortification washed over me in a tidal wave. Move your hand. Move it now! My brain screamed, and I wanted to. I really did. But I stayed frozen, paralyzed by shock and humiliation and something else I would rather not name. A brief image flashed through my mind of what Alex must be packing beneath his pants. I had a feeling—pun intended—it would rival that of any male porn star.

“Please remove your hand from my cock unless you plan on doing something with it,” Alex said coolly. I finally yanked my hand away and scrambled back, my heart beating a wild rhythm in my chest as I tried to get my bearings. “What happened? Why am I here? Did we—did you and I—” I gestured between us, sick with anticipation. Oh, God, Josh would kill me, and I couldn’t even blame him. I’d slept with my brother’s best friend. Shit! “Relax.” Alex rolled out of bed, lithe and graceful as a panther. Sunlight streamed through the windows and illuminated his sculpted frame, casting his perfectly carved chest and abs in a pale glow. “You fell asleep during that dog movie and it was raining, so I brought you up here. The end.” “So we didn’t…” “Fuck? No.” “Oh, thank God.” I pressed a hand to my forehead, relief a cool balm to the heat on my cheeks. “That would’ve been awful.” “I’ll try not to take offense to that,” Alex said dryly. “You know what I mean. Josh would’ve murdered us, brought us back to clean up the mess, then murdered us again. Not that I want to sleep with you either way.” Liar, an annoying voice in my head whispered. I shoved it aside. “You’re not my type.” Alex’s eyes narrowed. “No? Then who, pray tell, is your type?” It was too early for this. “Um…” I scrambled to think of a safe answer. “Ian Somerhalder?” He let out a derisive snort. “Better than the sparkly vampire,” he muttered. “Newsflash, Sunshine, you and Ian aren’t happening.” I rolled my eyes and got out of bed, flinching when I saw my reflection in the mirror. Wrinkled dress, tangled hair, pillow creases on my cheek, and was that a line of crusted drool on the side of my lips? Yeah, I wouldn’t win a beauty contest anytime soon. “Thanks, Captain Obvious,” I said, discreetly wiping the drool from my face while Alex pulled a T-shirt over his head. His bedroom was as sparse as the living room, with nothing except his massive bed, a nightstand with a lamp and alarm clock, and a dresser decorating the space. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m not your type either, remember? Or maybe I am…” I raised my eyebrows at the obvious tent in his pants.

He wanted to be a jerk again? Two could play this game. “Don’t read too much into it. It’s morning wood. Every guy gets it.” Alex ran a hand through his hair, which of course was still perfect after a night’s sleep. “And my panties are not in a twist.” “If you say so,” I sang. “Also, stop calling me Sunshine.” “Why?” “Because it’s not my name.” “I’m aware. It’s a nickname.” I released an exasperated breath. “We don’t know each other well enough for nicknames.” “We’ve known each other for eight years.” “Yes, but we don’t have that type of relationship! Plus, I’m sure you’re mocking me, bleeding heart and all.” Alex raised an eyebrow. “Enlighten me. What type of relationship do we have?” We were treading dangerous ground. “We’re neighbors. Friendly acquaintances.” I racked my brain for more because those terms didn’t seem right. “Movie buddies?” He closed the distance between us, and I gulped, holding my ground even though I wanted to run. “You always sleep in the same bed as your acquaintances?” he asked softly. “I didn’t ask to sleep in the same bed as you.” I tried not to stare at the region below his waist, but it was difficult to ignore. My nipples hardened and scraped against my bra, and my skin flushed with arousal. What the hell was happening? This was Alex, for Pete’s sake. The Antichrist. The asshole. The robot. Except my body must’ve not gotten the memo, because I was suddenly fantasizing about pushing him on the bed and finishing what my hand had inadvertently started earlier. No. Get it together. You are not sleeping with Alex Volkov, now or ever. “Anyway, I—I have to go. Volunteer. Pets,” I stammered, barely making sense to myself. “Thanksforlettingmestayoverseeyoulaterbye !” I beat a hasty retreat down the stairs and ran home. I needed a cold shower, ASAP. PHASE SADNESS STATUS: FAILED

“YOU TOUCHED ALEX’S DICK?” Bridget’s eyes widened. “What did it feel like?” “Shhh! ” I glanced around to see if anyone was listening, but everyone was too busy with their duties to pay attention to us. Bridget had volunteered at the shelter long enough the staff didn’t blink an eye at the princess in their midst, and we were always the only volunteers on the days Bridget came in, per the royal family’s request. “It’s unbecoming for a princess to say the word dick.” Especially in Bridget’s posh, lightly accented voice, which sounded like it was made to discuss fancy galas and Harry Winston diamonds, not male genitalia. “I’ve said worse things than dick.” As someone who’d been friends with her for almost four years, I could confirm. It still sounded wrong though. “So?” she prompted. “What did it feel like?” “I don’t know what you want me to say. It felt like a penis.” A big, hard—nope. Not going there. Not now. Not ever. Bridget and I were cleaning and sanitizing the cages at Wags and Whiskers, a pet rescue shelter located near campus. She was a huge animal person and had been volunteering here since sophomore year. I accompanied her when I had time, as did Stella. Jules was allergic to cats, so she stayed away. But this shelter was Bridget’s baby. She came twice a week without fail, much to Booth’s consternation. I stifled a smile at the sight of the burly, redheaded bodyguard eyeing a parrot with suspicion. Despite its name, Wags and Whiskers took in all sorts of animals, not just cats and dogs, and it had a small but robust bird section. Booth wasn’t scared of birds per se, but he disliked them; he said they reminded him of giant flying rats. “Hmm.” Bridget seemed disappointed by my uninteresting response. “And the movies really didn’t make him sad? At all?” “Nope.” I rolled up the newspaper from my cage and dumped it in the garbage can. “Well, I fell asleep before the end of Marley & Me, but I doubt he cried or anything like that. He looked bored the entire time.” “Yet he continued watching both movies.” Bridget raised a perfect blonde brow. “Interesting.” “He didn’t have a choice. I was already at his house.”

“Please. This is Alex Volkov we’re talking about. He’d throw someone out in a heartbeat if he wanted.” True. I frowned and considered her words. “He’s nicer to me because I’m Josh’s sister.” “Right.” Bridget let out a soft laugh. “Which phase is up next again?” Ugh, the stupid Operation Emotion, or OE as I’d started calling it. It was the bane of my existence. “Disgust.” I had no clue what I’d do, but that phase seemed easier. I had a feeling lots of things disgusted Alex. “I’d pay good money to see that.” Bridget tossed a laughing glance in Booth’s direction. “Are you all right, Booth?” “Yes, Your Highness.” He grimaced when the parrot squawked, “Ooh, yes! Spank me, master!” “I am not your master,” he told the bird. “Go away.” The parrot drew itself up and ruffled its feathers in indignation. Bridget and I burst into laughter. Apparently, the parrot’s old owner had been quite active sexually…and kinky. Its outburst today was tame compared to its previous tirades. “I’ll miss you.” Bridget sighed. “I hope my next bodyguard has a sense of humor.” I stopped scrubbing the cage. “Wait, what? Booth, you’re leaving us?” Booth scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “My wife is giving birth soon, so I’ll be on paternity leave.” “Congrats.” I smiled, even though I was pretty sad. He was Bridget’s employee, but we’d accepted him as an honorary member of our group. He’d bailed us out of many dodgy situations in the past, and he gave pretty good boy advice, too. “We’ll miss you, but that is so exciting!” His face flushed with pleasure. “Thank you, Miss Ava.” He was unfailingly polite and insisted on calling me “Miss” no matter how many times I told him he could use just my first name. “We’re throwing you a going away party when the time comes,” Bridget said. “You deserve it for putting up with me all these years.” Booth’s blush deepened. “That’s not necessary, Your Highness. It was—is—a pleasure serving at your side.”

Bridget’s eyes twinkled. “See, this is why you deserve a going away party. You’re the best.” Before Booth could explode from how red he was turning, I added, “We’ll make it parrot themed.” Bridget and I collapsed into laughter again while the bodyguard shook his head with a half-resigned, half-embarrassed smile. It was almost enough to take my mind off Alex.

11 AVA OPERATION EMOTION: PHASE DISGUST “You already brought me welcome-to-the-neighborhood cookies.” Alex stared at the basket on the dining table. “These aren’t welcome cookies.” I pushed the basket toward him. “These are an experiment. I tried a new recipe and wanted to see what you think.” He made an impatient noise. “I don’t have time for this. I have a conference call in half an hour.” “It won’t take you half an hour to eat one cookie.” Yes, I had finagled an invitation inside Alex’s house again, this time for the second phase of OE. Neither Alex nor I mentioned his, er, morning wood situation a few days earlier. I didn’t know about him, but I’d prefer if we forgot about that morning altogether. “Fine.” He peered at the confections with suspicion. “What flavor?” Asparagus, raisins, and garlic brittle. I’d picked the most disgusting ingredient mixture I could think of because this was, after all, Phase Disgust. Part of me felt bad because he’d been pretty nice the night we watched those movies and he’d canceled his date for me; the other part was still a little annoyed by how he’d treated Owen, who was afraid to talk to me now because he feared Alex would pop up out of nowhere and kill him. I cleared my throat. “It’s a, um, surprise.” I tucked my hands beneath my thighs and jittered my foot as Alex brought a cookie to his mouth. I almost dove for him and knocked it out of his hand, but I was curious how he would react. Would he spit it out? Gag? Throw the cookie at me and kick me out of the house?

He chewed slowly, his face not betraying any emotion whatsoever. “Well? What do you think?” I injected fake pep in my voice. “Good?” “You baked these.” Not a question. “Yep.” “You baked the red velvet cookies, and you baked…these.” My bottom lip disappeared behind my teeth. “Uh-huh.” I couldn’t look him in the eye. Not only was I terrible at lying, I was terrible at keeping a straight face. “They’re fine.” My head snapped up. “What?” The cookies weren’t fine; they were gross. I’d tried one myself and almost threw up. Asparagus and garlic brittle did not mix. Alex finished chewing, swallowed, and dusted the crumbs from his hands. “They’re fine,” he repeated. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a call to take.” He left me in the dining room, mouth agape. I picked up a cookie from the basket and nibbled on it, just in case— Blech! I gagged and ran into the kitchen to spit out the abomination, then rinsed my mouth with water from the sink to erase the lingering aftertaste. Alex must have messed-up taste buds, because no normal person would’ve been able to swallow those cookies without at least grimacing. I came to the only conclusion that made sense. “He’s definitely a robot.” PHASE DISGUST STATUS: FAILED OPERATION EMOTION: PHASE HAPPINESS What makes men happy? The question had plagued me in the lead-up to the third phase of OE. Most of the things that would make men happy didn’t apply to Alex or my situation. Money? He had plenty of it. Job satisfaction? Nothing I could do about it.

Spending time with friends? Josh was Alex’s only friend that I knew of, and I was pretty sure Alex did not enjoy most people’s company. Sex? Um, I wasn’t having sex with him for an experiment. Or any other reason, even if I was the teeniest bit curious about what it would be like. Love? Lol, okay. Alex Volkov in love. Sure. Jules suggested a blowjob, which fell under sex and which I vetoed. It took days of brainstorming, but I came up with something that might work. Perhaps it wouldn’t make Alex soul-happy, but it’ll help him relax and laugh a little. Maybe. “I dislike sitting on the ground.” He stared at the grass like it was a mud pit. “It’s uncomfortable and unsanitary.” “It’s not. How is it unsanitary?” I laid a blanket out and anchored it with the picnic basket so it wouldn’t blow away. I’d convinced him to go for a picnic at Meridian Hill Park. When I brought it up, he’d acted like I’d suddenly sprouted two heads, but he’d agreed. Now, if only he would stop acting like such a grouch, we could enjoy the last days of summer. “The grass is probably soaked with dog urine,” he said. I winced at the mental image. “That’s what the blanket is for. Sit.” Alex heaved an aggrieved sigh and sat, looking unhappy about it the entire time. Undeterred, I unpacked the picnic basket, which contained summer pasta (my favorite), lobster rolls (Alex’s favorite, according to Josh), assorted fruit, cheese and crackers, strawberry lemonade, and of course, my red velvet cookies, which Alex seemed to like. “This is so much better than being cooped up inside.” I stretched my arms over my head, luxuriating in the sunshine. “Fresh air, good food. Don’t you feel happier already?” “No. There are children screaming everywhere, and a fly just landed in your salad.” Damn flies. I quickly shooed it away. “Why are we here, Ava?” Alex’s brow pinched.

“I’m trying to help you relax, but you’re making it damn hard.” I threw my hands in the air, pretty exasperated myself. “You know that magical thing you did during movie night called a laugh? You did it once, you can do it again. Come on,” I encouraged while he stared at me like I was crazy. “You must have some warm, fuzzy feelings left inside of you somewhere.” And that was the moment a dog from a nearby party wandered over and peed on Alex’s shoes. PHASE HAPPINESS STATUS: FAILED OPERATION EMOTION: PHASE FEAR We were stuck. Between my friends and I, none of us could think of a single thing that would inspire fear in Alex—at least, none that weren’t illegal or fucked up. Jules, who was more comfortable with “fucked up” than the rest of us, joked about pretending to rob him at knifepoint—at least, I hoped she was joking—until Stella pointed out Alex would likely turn the situation around and kill me before he figured out it was a prank. I agreed. I was too young to die, so we scrapped any ideas that would involve a physical confrontation. In the absence of any lightbulb moments, I turned to my last resort, Josh. We video-chatted every week, catching each other up on our lives, and right now, he was telling me about his new “friend with benefits.” Seriously. Trust Josh to find women even in the middle of a tiny Central American village doing medical volunteer work. “How is that possible?” I demanded. “There’s less than a hundred people in that village!” I knew because I’d Googled it after Josh announced his placement. “What can I say? I’m charmed,” he drawled. “Wherever I go, women follow.” “I think she was there before you, dickhead, and I hope you’re not neglecting your work to make out with your new ‘friend’.”

“Da fuck? Tell me you’re kidding.” I waved my hand in the air. “I am, I am. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.” As much of a horndog as my brother was, he took his work seriously. Whereas I had to bust my ass for my A’s, he was one of those annoying people who didn’t have to study much to excel in school. But he loved medical work and helping people. Even when we were young, he was the one who’d bandaged me up after I scraped my knee and looked up ways to help me with my nightmares while our father threw himself into work. It was why I let Josh get away with his overprotectiveness. He could be annoying as hell, but he was still the best brother. I’d never tell him that though. If his head inflated any more, he’d have trouble walking. “By the way.” I tried to sound casual as I fiddled with the sleeve of my shirt. “Halloween is coming up, and I was thinking of pulling some pranks. Is there anything Alex is scared of? Clowns, spiders, heights…” Suspicion crawled into Josh’s face. “Halloween is more than two months away.” “Yeah, but it sneaks up on you, and I want to prepare.” “Hmm.” Josh tapped his fingers on his thigh. “Hmm… ” “Any time before I’m eighty would be great.” “Shut up. You know how hard it is to think of something Alex is scared of? I’ve known him for eight years, and I’ve never once seen him afraid.” My face fell. Well, shit. “You could try the usual stuff people hate, but I doubt you’d get anywhere.” Josh shrugged. “One time we ran into a bear while hiking and the fucker didn’t even blink. Just stood there looking bored and annoyed until the bear wandered off. Jump scares don’t work either. Trust me—I’ve tried many times to prank him in the past and failed every time.” “Good to know.” Perhaps this phase was a lost cause. If Josh, who knew Alex better than anyone, couldn’t scare him, none of us could. The suspicion returned to Josh’s eyes. “Is this your idea, or a certain redhead’s?” “Ummm…mine?”

“Bullshit.” Josh scowled. “Don’t tell me she’s still infatuated with Alex. He’s a lost cause when it comes to relationships—won’t ever get into one, and he only fucks certain women.” I was dying to ask who these “certain women” were, but I couldn’t without sounding like I was interested in Alex. Which I wasn’t. “I don’t think Jules was ever infatuated with him,” I said. “She just thinks he’s hot.” “Whatever.” Josh raked a hand through his hair. “Hey, I have an early morning tomorrow, so I’m gonna crash. Let me know if you succeed in pranking him and take a video of it for me. I could use the laugh.” “Sure.” Concern replaced my earlier discomfort at hearing about Alex’s “certain women.” I could tell Josh was worn out despite his jokes and wiseass comments. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, and lines of tension bracketed his mouth. He’d begged off early our last few calls, and usually, he could stay up all night talking about the dumbest stuff. Once, he’d waxed poetic about his new sneakers until three in the morning. “Get some rest. If I have to fly down to Central America to kick your ass, I’ll be pissed.” “Ha.” Josh snorted. “You wish you could kick my ass.” “Night, Joshy.” “Don’t call me that,” he grumbled. “Night.” After I hung up, I took out my notebook and scratched out phase three. PHASE FEAR STATUS: ON HOLD (INDEFINITELY)

12 AVA “T , ’ .” I sucked down the rest of my cranberry vodka. I’d nursed it for so long all the ice had melted and it tasted like fruity water. “Thank God.” “Too bad.” Bridget looked disappointed. “I was looking forward to seeing Alex lose his cool.” “He still can. The experiment isn’t over yet.” Jules wagged her finger in the air. Unease crawled down my neck. “Yes, it is. We decided on four phases: sadness, disgust, happiness, and fear.” “There are five phases.” Jules’s hazel eyes sparkled with mischief. “The last is jealousy, or did you forget?” “I never agreed to that!” We were at The Crypt, Thayer’s most popular off-campus bar, for one last hurrah before classes started Monday. Students had started trickling back, and the bar was way more packed than earlier this summer. “But it’s the best one,” Jules argued. “Don’t—” “Ava.” I stiffened at the sound of my name said in that voice. The voice that used to whisper to me at night and tell me it—he—loved me. The voice I hadn’t heard in two months, not since he showed up outside the gallery one day in July and demanded I speak with him. I tilted my head until hazel eyes clashed with my dark brown ones. Liam towered over me, handsome and preppy as ever in a navy-blue polo and khakis. He’d cut his hair, the blond strands no

longer the mess of soft curls I’d loved running my fingers through, but shorter, closer-cropped to his skull. My peripheral vision revealed my friends’ reactions to his unexpected appearance in one sweep: nervousness on Stella’s face, trepidation on Bridget’s, anger on Jules’s. “What are you doing here?” I told myself I didn’t need to be scared. We were in public, sitting smack dab in the middle of a crowded bar. I was surrounded by my friends and Booth, who eyed Liam like he’d like to dropkick the guy. I was safe. Still, my skin tingled with unease. I thought Liam had given up his quest to win me back, but here he was, looking at me like nothing had changed. Like I hadn’t caught him with his pants down and buried inside a strange blonde the night he’d claimed to have a “fever.” I’d dropped by his apartment hoping to surprise him with chicken soup and ended up being the one surprised instead. “Can we talk?” “I’m busy.” I could smell the alcohol on his breath, and I wasn’t interested in talking to a sober Liam, much less a drunk one. “Ava, please.” “She said she’s busy, asshole,” Jules snapped. Liam glared at her. They’d never gotten along. “I don’t remember speaking to you,” he sneered. “See if you remember when I stick my—” “Five minutes.” I stood, my shoulders stiff. “What—” “Ava—” “Are you sure—” My friends all spoke at once. I nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be back in five, okay? If I’m not—” I glared at Liam. “You can come looking for me with torches and pitchforks.” He’d hover all night unless I spoke with him, and I’d rather get it over with. “I have more than torches and pitchforks,” Booth growled. Liam flinched. I followed him outside the bar and crossed my arms over my chest. “Make it quick.” “I want you to give me another chance.” “I’ve already told you a thousand times—no.”

Frustration bled into his face. “Babe, it’s been months. What do you want me to do, fall to my knees and beg? Haven’t you punished me enough?” “It’s not about punishment.” For someone who’d graduated cum laude, Liam couldn’t seem to grasp such a simple concept. “It’s about the fact that you cheated on me. I don’t care how long it’s been or how sorry you are. Cheating is unacceptable, and we are not getting back together. Ever.” The frustration morphed into anger. “Why? You got a new man?” he growled. “You have new dick and you don’t need me anymore, is that it? I never knew you were such a slut.” “Fuck you.” My heart pumped fast. Liam had never said such nasty things to me. Ever. “Your five minutes are up. This conversation is over.” I tried to leave, but he grabbed my wrist and yanked me back. It was the first time he’d laid a hand on me out of anger. My heart was racing triple-speed now, but I forced myself to remain calm. “Get your hands off me,” I hissed. “Or you’ll regret it.” “Who is he?” Liam’s eyes were wild, and I realized with a sinking stomach that he was not only drunk but high. A dangerous combination. “Tell me!” “There is no other guy, and even if there were, it’s none of your business!” I wished I’d brought my pepper spray. Since I hadn’t, I settled for the next best thing: kneeing him in the balls. Hard. Liam released his hold on me and doubled over in pain. “You bitch,” he wheezed. “You—” I didn’t wait to hear what he said next. I fled back to the safety of the bar, my pulse roaring in my ears. I can’t believe that happened. Liam had never acted so out of control. He’d been persistent and kind of douchey, but he’d never physically hurt me. By the time I told my friends what happened and they ran outside to confront Liam over my protests, he was gone, but my queasiness remained. You think you know someone until something happens that proves you never really knew them at all.

13 ALEX T U’ the event of the season, but while it did raise money for the latest cause du jour, it wasn’t really about charity. It was about ego. I attended every year. Not because I wanted to be a philanthropist or reminisce about my college days, but because the gala was a fountain of information. Thayer counted the most powerful people in the world amongst its alumni, and they all congregated in the ballroom of the Z Hotel D.C. every August. It was the perfect opportunity to network and gather intel. “…pass the bill, but it’ll get killed in Congress…” I pretended to listen while Colton, an old classmate who now worked in government affairs for a major software company, droned on about the latest piece of tech legislation. He rarely had anything interesting to say, but his father was high up in the FBI, so I kept him in my orbit in case I needed him in the future. It was always about the long game—measured not in weeks or months, but in years. Decades. Even the tiniest of seeds can sprout into the mightiest of oaks. It was a simple concept most people didn’t understand because they were too busy chasing short-term gratification, and it was the reason most people fail. They spent their lives sitting on their asses and telling themselves “someday” when preparation should’ve started yesterday. By the time “someday” came, it was too late. “…this IP issue with China…” Colton stopped abruptly. Thank God. If I had to listen to his nasal voice one more second, I

would’ve walked over to the bar and stabbed myself in the eye with a fork. “Who is that? ” he asked, a hungry look overtaking his face as he stared over my shoulder. “She’s hot. ” His voice was as hungry as his expression. “I’ve never seen her before. Have you?” I turned out of mild curiosity. It took me a second to latch onto whatever unsuspecting girl had captured his attention. Colton was almost as big a womanizer as Josh. When I finally located the source of Colton’s ravenous gaze, my muscles snapped into a rigid line and my fist closed around the stem of my champagne glass, tight enough the delicate glass could shatter at any moment. She glided into the ballroom, her lithe body poured into a sleek gown that flowed over her curves like liquid, shimmering gold. She’d gathered her hair up in a fancy hairdo, exposing her swanlike neck and smooth shoulders. Dark eyes. Bronze skin. Red lips. All smiles and sunshine, unaware she’d walked into a pit of vipers. A goddess entering the gates of hell, and she didn’t even know it. A pulse ticked in my jaw. What the hell was Ava doing here, wearing that dress? She wasn’t an alumna yet. She shouldn’t be here. Not around these people. I wanted to gouge out the eyes of every man staring at her like they were starved and she was a juicy steak, which was pretty much every man here—including Colton. If he didn’t put his tongue back in his mouth soon, I’d cut it out for him. I left him salivating behind me without a word and stalked toward Ava, my strides eating up the distance between us with angry, purposeful steps. I made it halfway before someone blocked my path. I recognized her scent before I saw her face, and my muscles tightened further. “Alex,” Madeline purred. “I haven’t heard from you in a while.” Her scarlet gown matched the glossy lipstick coating her pouty lips. Blonde hair spilled over her shoulders in sculpted waves, and I was close enough to see the faint outline of her nipples through the silky material of her dress.

Once upon a time, that might’ve turned me on. Now, she might as well be wearing a potato sack for all the reaction her outfit and seductive smile elicited. “I’ve been busy.” I sidestepped her; she mimicked my action and blocked my path again. “You never made it up to me for canceling our date.” She trailed her fingers over my arm. It was a light, practiced touch, meant to leave the receiver wanting more. All I wanted was for her to get out of my way. My eyes strayed toward Ava again, and my already-tense muscles bunched up further at the sight of Colton by her side. How the fuck did he get over there so fast? I’d played basketball with him once in college; the man was slower than a turtle on morphine. “And I never will.” I removed Madeline’s hand from my arm. “It’s been fun, but it’s time for us to part ways.” Shock scattered over her face before coalescing into a mask of stunned anger. “You’re breaking up with me?” “In order to break up, we’d have to be dating.” I nodded at one of the men staring at her ass. “The congressman looks interested. Why don’t you go say hi?” Red tinted her creamy skin. “I’m not a prostitute,” Madeline hissed. “You can’t pimp me out to another man when you’re done with me. And we are not done. Not until I say so. I’m Madeline fucking Hauss.” “That’s where you’re wrong. We’re all prostitutes in our own ways.” My smile lacked any semblance of warmth. “I’ll give you a pass for your tone tonight, given our history. But don’t contact me again, or you’ll find out the hard way how I earned my reputation for being ruthless. I’m not above ruining women.” This conversation was over. I left a sputtering Madeline behind me and walked away, irritated by the interruption and furious at the sight of what awaited me in the middle of the dance floor. Ava and Colton swayed to music from the live band the university had hired for the gala. His hands rested on her hips, and I saw them inching lower with each passing second. I arrived next to them right as she laughed at something he said. It rang through the air like silver bells, and the tic in my jaw pulsed harder.

He didn’t deserve her laugh. “Something funny?” I asked, masking my ire with an expression of cool indifference. Surprise and wariness flared in Ava’s eyes at the sight of me. Good. She should be wary. She should be fucking home, safe and sound, instead of dancing with a manwhore like Colton and letting him put his hands all over her. “I was just telling her a joke.” Colton chuckled but shot me a warning look that said, Why are you cockblocking, man? He was lucky if all I did was cockblock. I was tempted to break every bone in his hand for touching her like that. “You mind? We’re in the middle of a dance.” “Actually, it’s my turn.” I maneuvered myself between them and pulled him off her with a little more force than necessary. Colton flinched. “You have to leave the gala early. Business calls.” His brow pinched. “I…” His eyes roved between me and Ava, whose own eyes did the same between me and Colton. Realization dawned on his face. Guess he wasn’t so slow after all. “Ah, you’re right. Sorry, man. I forgot.” “We’ll get lunch one day,” I said. I didn’t burn bridges unless it was a business rival or I had to. Seeds. Oaks. “At Valhalla.” The Valhalla Club was the most exclusive private club in D.C. It capped its membership at one hundred members, each of whom was allowed to bring one guest for a meal each quarter. I’d just handed Colton the ticket of a lifetime. His eyes widened. “Oh, y-yeah,” he stuttered, trying and failing to hide the awe in his voice. “I’d like that.” “Good night.” It was a dismissal and a warning rolled into one. Colton scurried off, and I turned my displeasure on Ava. We were close enough that I could see the way the lights from the chandeliers reflected in her eyes, like tiny star-beams streaking across an endless night. Her lips parted, lush and wet, and an insane desire to find out whether they tasted as sweet as they looked gripped me. “You ran off my dance partner.” Her voice came out breathier than usual, and my cock jerked at the sound. I gritted my teeth and tightened my hold on her until she gasped. “Colton is not a dance partner. He is a womanizer and a

slimeball, and it’s in your best interest to stay far, far away from him.” It would be in her best interest to stay far away from me too, and the irony wasn’t lost on me. If she only knew why I’m in D.C… But fuck it, I was okay with hypocrisy. It didn’t even crack the top ten of my worst traits. “You don’t know what’s in my best interest.” The star-beams morphed into fire, sparking with challenge. “You don’t know me at all.” “Is that so?” I guided her across the floor, my skin prickling from the strange, electric charge in the air. It was a thousand needles piercing my flesh, searching for a weakness. A crack. A doorway, however tiny, through which it could slip and jumpstart my long-dead, long-cold heart. “Yes. I don’t know what Josh tells you about me—if he tells you anything at all—but I assure you, you have no idea what I want or what’s in my best interest.” I paused, causing her to stumble into my chest. My thumb and forefinger grasped her chin, forcing her to look up at me. “Try me.” Ava blinked, her breaths coming out in short, shallow puffs. “My favorite color.” “Yellow.” “My favorite ice cream flavor.” “Mint chocolate chip.” Her chest rose and fell harder. “My favorite season.” “Summer, because of the warmth and sunshine and greenery. But secretly, winter fascinates you.” I lowered my head until my own breath skated over her skin and her scent crawled into my nostrils, drugging me. Turning my voice into a hoarse, sinful version of itself. “It speaks to the darkest parts of your soul. The manifestations of your nightmares. It’s everything you fear, and for that, you love it. Because the fear makes you feel alive.” The band played, and the people around us whirled and danced, but in this world we’d carved for ourselves, it was silent save for our ragged intakes of breath. Ava shivered beneath my touch. “How do you know all that?” “It’s my job to know things. I observe. I watch. I remember.” I gave into my desire—a tiny one—and traced her lips with my thumb. A shudder rolled through us, our bodies so in sync we reacted the exact fucking way at the exact fucking time. I brought

my thumb down and tightened my grip on her chin. “But those are shallow questions, Sunshine. Ask me something real.” She stared up at me, those eyes liquid chocolate beneath the lights. “What do I want?” A dangerous, loaded question. Humans want a lot of things, but in every heart, there beats one true desire. One thing that shapes our every thought and action. Mine was vengeance. Sharp, cruel, bloodthirsty. It had bloomed from the bloody corpses of my family’s bodies, inking itself into my skin and soul until my sins were no longer mine but ours. Mine and vengeance’s, two shadows walking the same twisted path. Ava was different. And I’d known what her true desire was the moment I set eyes on her for the first time eight years ago, her face shining and her mouth stretched into a warm, welcome smile. “Love.” The word floated between us on a soft gust of air. “Deep, abiding, unconditional love. You want it so much you’re willing to live for it.” Most people thought the biggest sacrifice they could make was to die for something. They were wrong. The biggest sacrifice someone could make was to live for something— to allow it to consume you and turn you into a version of yourself you didn’t recognize. Death was oblivion; life was reality, the harshest truth that had ever existed. “You want it so much you’d say yes to anything. Believe in anyone. One more favor, one more kind gesture…and maybe, just maybe, they’ll give you the love you want so desperately you’d whore yourself out for it.” My tone turned biting; the conversation made a U-turn and headed straight for harsh and brutal. Because what I admired most about Ava was also what I hated about her. Darkness craves light as much as it wants to destroy it, and here, in this ballroom, with her in my arms and my cock straining against my zipper, that had never been more clear. I hated how much I wanted her, and I hated that she wasn’t smart enough to run away from me while she still had a chance. Though let’s be honest, it was already too late. She was mine. She just didn’t know it yet. I hadn’t known it myself until I saw her in Colton’s arms and every instinct raged at me to tear her away. To claim what belonged to me.

I’d expected her to grow angry at my words, to cry or run away. Instead, she stared at me, unflinching, and said the most unbelievable thing I’d heard in a long, long time. “Are you talking about me, or are you talking about yourself?” I almost laughed at the sheer ludicrousness of the statement. “You must have me confused with someone else, Sunshine.” “I don’t think I do.” Ava stood on tiptoes so she could whisper in my ear. “You don’t fool me anymore, Alex Volkov. I’ve been thinking about it, the way you noticed all those things about me. How you agreed to look after me, even though you could’ve said no. How you stayed in to watch those movies with me when you thought I was upset and let me stay the night in your bed after I fell asleep. And I’ve come to a conclusion. You want the world to think you have no heart when in reality, you have a multilayered one: a heart of gold encased in a heart of ice. And the one thing all hearts of gold have in common? They crave love.” I tightened my grip on her, equal parts furious and turned on by her foolish, stubborn goodness. “What did I tell you about romanticizing me?” I wanted her, but it wasn’t a sweet, tender kind of want. It was a dirty, ugly want, tainted by the blood on my hands and a desire to drag her out of the sunshine and into my night. “It’s not romanticizing if it’s true.” A growl slipped out of my throat. I allowed myself to hold onto her for one more moment before I pushed her away. “Go home, Ava. This isn’t the place for you.” “I’ll go home when I want to go home.” “Stop being difficult.” “Stop being a jerk.” “I thought I had a heart of gold,” I mocked. “Choose a side and stick to it, Sunshine.” “Even gold can tarnish if you don’t take care of it.” Ava stepped back, and I tamped down the ridiculous urge to follow her. “I paid for my ticket, and I’m staying here until I decide I want to leave. Thank you for the dance.” She walked away, leaving me in fuming silence.

I MADE a concerted effort to ignore Ava for the rest of the night, though she hovered in my peripheral vision like a golden spark that wouldn’t go away. Luckily for every man in the room, she didn’t dance with anyone else; she spent most of her time chatting and laughing with alumni. I spent mine gathering intel—information about congressmen I’d need if I wanted to expand Archer into a conglomerate, tidbits about competitors, interesting nuggets about friends and foes. I’d just wrapped up an…enlightening conversation with the head of a major consulting company when I lost sight of Ava. One minute she was there; the next, she was gone. She was still gone twenty minutes later—far too long for a bathroom break. It was getting late; perhaps she’d left. We hadn’t parted on the best note, but I’d check on her to make sure she got home safely. Just in case. I was already on my way out when I heard a thump from the small room by the ballroom, which served as an overflow space for guests’ bags and jackets. “Get off me!” I froze, my blood icing over. I opened the door, and the ice erupted into scalding flames. Ava’s soon-to-be-dead ex Liam had her pinned against the wall with her wrists above her head. They were so focused on each other they didn’t notice me enter. “You told me you didn’t have a new man,” Liam slurred. “But I saw you dancing and watching him. You lied, Ava. Why did you lie?” “You’re crazy.” Even from here, I saw her eyes flashing fire. “Let go of me. I mean it. Or do you want a repeat of last week?” Last week? What the hell happened last week? “But I love you.” His voice turned plaintive. “Why won’t you love me back? It was one mistake, babe.” He pressed his body against hers, preventing her legs from moving. Fire scorched my veins as I stalked over, my approach muffled by the plush carpet beneath my feet. “You do still love me. I know it.” “I’m giving you three seconds to move, or I can’t be held accountable for my actions.” A burst of pride shot through me at Ava’s flinty tone. Atta girl. “One…two…three.” I’d just reached them when she head-butted him. A howl ripped out of his throat; he stumbled back, clutching his nose,

which now gushed blood. “You broke my nose!” he spat. “You asked for it, you slut.” He lunged for her, but he only made it halfway before I closed my fist around the back of his shirt and yanked him back. It was only then that Ava noticed me. “Alex. What—” “Mind if I join the fun?” I hauled Liam up by his collar, my lip curling at the sight of his watering eyes and bleeding nose, and socked him in the gut. “That’s for calling her a slut.” Another blow to the jaw. “That’s for holding her against her will.” A third hit to his already-suffering nose. “That’s for cheating on her.” I continued my blows, letting the fire wash over me until Liam was unconscious and Ava had to drag me off him. “Alex, stop. You’ll kill him!” I adjusted my shirtsleeves, breathing hard. “Is that supposed to deter me?” I could go all night and not stop until the bastard was nothing more than a pile of bloodied flesh and broken bones. A film of red tinted my vision, and my knuckles were bruised from the force of my blows. The image of him pinning Ava against the wall flashed through my mind, and my anger erupted anew. “Let’s just go. He learned his lesson, and if someone sees you, you’ll get in trouble.” Ava’s face was the color of porcelain. “Please.” “He wouldn’t dare say anything.” Nevertheless, I relented because of how bad she was trembling. Despite her toughness earlier, Ava was shaken up over the incident. Plus, she was right; we were lucky no one had stumbled in on us yet. I didn’t give a shit if they did, but there was no need to drag out an already unpleasant evening. “We should call an ambulance.” She eyed Liam’s prone form with unease. “What if he’s seriously hurt?” Of course she still cared about his well-being after he tried to fucking assault her. I didn’t know whether to laugh in disbelief or shake her. “He won’t die.” I’d controlled my hits so they were punishing but not fatal. “He’ll wake up with a helluva banged-up face and a couple of broken ribs, but he’ll survive.” Unfortunately. The worry remained on Ava’s face. “We should call 911 anyway.”

For fuck’s sake. “I’ll place an anonymous call from the car.” I had a burner phone in the glove compartment. I placed a steadying hand on the small of her back as we exited the hotel. Thankfully, we didn’t pass anyone except the doorman along the way. “Now.” I pinned Ava with a glare. “Tell me what the hell happened between you two last week.”

14 AVA H . He was alive with it, pulsing with it. One hand clutched the steering wheel, knuckles white, while the other rested on the gearshift, flexing and unflexing like he wanted to strangle someone. The glow from passing streetlights illuminated the beautifully carved planes of his face as we sped down the dark streets, throwing into sharp relief the tense set of his mouth and the way his brows bunched over his eyes. When I told him about the incident with Liam outside The Crypt, I almost disintegrated from the force of his fury. “I’m okay,” I said, wrapping my arms around my torso. My voice sounded scratchy and unsure. “Really.” That only made him more furious. “If you’d attended Krav Maga lessons like I’d asked, he wouldn’t have been able to corner you like that.” Alex’s voice was soft. Deadly. I remembered his face when he’d pounded Liam’s face into a pulp, and a shiver skated down my spine. I wasn’t scared of Alex hurting me, but the sight of all that coiled strength unleashed was unnerving. “You have to learn to protect yourself. If anything had happened to you...” “I defended myself fine.” I pressed my lips together. I hadn’t seen Liam at the gala, but there had been so many people it would’ve been impossible for me to pick him out in the crowd. Bridget had finagled me an invite to the ball so I could connect with an alumnus who’d been a WYP fellow a few years ago. We’d had a great conversation, but I tired of the small talk with the rest of the gala’s guests and had been on my way out when Liam cornered me in the coatroom.

He’d been high tonight, too. I’d seen it in his dilated pupils and manic energy. He never used drugs when we were together, at least not that I knew of, but whatever he was on, it made him swing between bouts of rage and sadness. Despite what he did and things he’d said, I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. “This time.” Alex’s jaw flexed. “Who knows what might happen the next time you’re alone?” I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could get the words out, images and sounds slammed into my brain, rendering me mute. I threw a stone into the lake and giggled at the ripples that spread over the smooth surface. The lake was my favorite part of our backyard. We had a dock that ran out to the middle of the water, and during the summers, Josh would cannonball off it while Daddy fished and Mommy read magazines and I skipped stones. Josh always teased me about not being able to swim, much less cannonball. I would, though. Mommy signed me up for swimming lessons, and I would be the best swimmer in the world. Better than Josh, who thought he was the best at everything. I’d show him. My mouth turned down at the corners. There would be no more summers by the lakeside with all of us, though. Not since Daddy moved out and took Josh with him. I missed them. It got lonely sometimes, especially since Mommy didn’t play with me like she used to. All she did now was yell into the phone and cry. Sometimes, she sat in the kitchen and just stared into space. It made me sad. I tried to cheer her up—I drew her pictures and even gave her Bethany, my nicest, bestest doll to play with, but it didn’t work. She still cried. Today was a better day, though. It was our first time playing by the lake since Daddy moved out, so maybe it meant she felt better. She’d gone into the house for more sunscreen—she always worried about freckles and stuff like that—but when she got back, I planned to ask her to play with me like we used to. I picked up another stone from the ground. It was smooth and flat, the type that would make really pretty ripples. I drew my arm

back to throw it, but I smelled something flowery—Mommy’s perfume—that distracted me. My aim veered and the stone thudded onto the ground, but I didn’t mind. Mommy was back! We could play now. I turned, smiling a big gap-toothed smile—my front tooth fell out last week, and I found five dollars from the Tooth Fairy under my pillow after, which was super cool—but I only made it halfway before she pushed me. I pitched forward—down, down, off the edge of the deck, my scream swallowed up by the water rushing toward my face. Reality yanked me back into the present with jarring force. I bent over double, chest heaving, tears streaming down my face. When had I started crying? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was I was crying. Huge, heaving sobs, the kind that made my nose all snotty and my stomach hurt. Thick, salty rivulets ran down my cheeks and dripped off my chin onto the floor. Maybe I’d finally broken, split apart for the world to see. I’d always known I wasn’t normal, me with my forgotten childhood and fragmented nightmares, but I’d been able to hide it behind smiles and laughter. Until now. My nightmares were usually confined to when I was sleeping. They had never consumed me when I was awake. Maybe the adrenaline rush from what happened with Liam triggered something in my brain. If I had to worry about my waking hours and my sleeping ones… I pressed the heels of my palms to my eyes. I was losing it. A cool, strong hand touched my shoulder. I jerked, remembering in a rush that I wasn’t alone. That someone bore witness to my sudden, humiliating breakdown. I also hadn’t noticed that Alex had pulled over to the side of the road until now. If he’d been furious before, he was crazed now. Not in a psycho, angry way—well, maybe a little—but more in a panicked way. His eyes were wild, that muscle in his jaw jumping so fast it had a life of his own. I’d never seen him like that. Pissed, yes. Annoyed, definitely. But not like that. Like he wanted to burn the world down at seeing me hurt. My naïve heart sang, cutting a swath of hope through my lingering panic. Because no one looks at someone like that unless

they care, and I realized that I wanted Alex Volkov to care. Very much. I wanted him to care because of me, not because of a promise he’d made to my brother. Talk about a terrible time to come to such a realization. I was a freaking mess, and he’d just beat the living daylights out of my ex- boyfriend. I sucked in a shaky breath and wiped the tears from my face with the backs of my hands. “I will destroy him.” Alex’s words sliced through the air like lethal blades of ice. Goosebumps blossomed on my skin and I shivered, my teeth chattering from the cold. “Everything he has ever touched, everyone he has ever loved. I will ruin them until they’re nothing more than a pile of ashes at your feet.” I should’ve been terrified by the leashed violence flickering in the car, but I felt oddly safe. I always felt safe around him. “I’m not crying because of Liam.” I took a deep breath. “Let’s not talk or think about him anymore, okay? Let’s salvage the rest of the night. Please.” I needed to take my mind off everything that happened tonight, or I’d scream. A few beats passed before Alex relaxed his shoulders, though his face remained tight. “What do you have in mind?” “Food would be good.” I’d been too nervous to eat at the gala, and I was starving. “Something greasy and bad for you. You’re not one of those health nuts, are you?” His body was so cut he looked like he subsisted on lean protein and green shakes. Disbelief shadowed his eyes before he let out a short laugh. “No, Sunshine, I’m not one of those health nuts.” Ten minutes later, we pulled up in front of a diner that looked like it served nothing but food that was bad for you. Perfect. Heads swiveled in our direction when we walked into the diner. I couldn’t blame them. It isn’t every day you see a duo in black-tie enter a roadside diner. I’d tried my best to fix myself so I was presentable before I left the car, but there’s only so much a girl can do without her makeup bag. Something warm and silky enveloped me, and I realized Alex had taken off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders.

“It’s cold,” he said when I shot him a questioning look. He glared at a group of guys who were ogling me—or rather, my breasts—from a nearby table. I didn’t protest. It was cold, and my gown didn’t cover much. I also didn’t protest when Alex insisted we sit in the back and positioned me in the booth facing the wall, so I was out of the other diners’ sight. We placed our orders, and I shifted beneath the weight of his stare. “Tell me what happened in the car.” For once, his tone was gentle, not commanding. “If not Liam, what made you…” “Freak out?” I fiddled with a loose strand of hair. No one knew about my lost memories or nightmares except my family and closest friends, but I had a strange urge to spill the truth to Alex. “I had a…flashback. Of something that happened when I was young.” I’d been in denial all these years, telling myself they were fictional nightmares instead of fragmented flashbacks, but I couldn’t lie any longer. I swallowed hard before I told Alex, in halting sentences, about my past—or what I remembered of it. It wasn’t the lighthearted conversation I’d envisioned when I’d suggested we “salvage the rest of the night,” but I felt ten times lighter by the time I finished. “They told me it was my mom,” I said. “My parents were going through a nasty divorce, and apparently, my mom had some sort of breakdown and pushed me into the lake, knowing I couldn’t swim. I would’ve drowned had my dad not come by to drop off some papers and seen what happened. He saved me, and my mom’s condition deteriorated further until she killed herself. They told me I was lucky to be alive but…” I drew in a shuddering breath. “Sometimes, I don’t feel lucky.” Alex had listened patiently the entire time, but his eyes flickered dangerously at my last statement. “Don’t say that.” “I know. It’s super self-pitying, which is not what I want. But what you said at the gala earlier? About me craving love? You’re right.” My chin wobbled. Call me crazy, but something about being tucked away this corner of a random diner, sitting across from a man who I thought didn’t even like me until a few hours ago, made me voice my most insidious thoughts. “My mom tried to kill me. My dad barely pays attention to me. Parents are supposed to be the most loving forces in their children’s lives, but…” A tear

slipped down my cheek, and my voice broke. “I don’t know what I did wrong. Maybe if I tried harder to be a good daughter—” “Stop.” Alex’s hand curled around mine on the table. “Don’t blame yourself for fucked-up things other people do.” “I try not to, but…” Another shaky breath. “That’s why Liam cheating on me hurt so much. I wasn’t really in love with him, so I wasn’t heartbroken per se, but he’s yet another person who was supposed to love me but didn’t.” My chest ached. If I wasn’t the problem, why did this keep happening to me? I tried to be a good person. A good daughter, good girlfriend…but no matter how hard I tried, I always ended up hurt. I had Josh and my friends, but there was a difference between platonic love and the deep bonds that bound a person to their parents and significant other. At least, there was supposed to be. “Liam is an idiot and an asshole,” Alex said flatly. “If you let lesser people determine your self-worth, you’ll never reach higher than their limited imagination.” He leaned forward, his expression intense. “You don’t have to work overtime to get people to love you, Ava. Love isn’t earned, it’s given.” My heart rattled in my chest. “I thought you didn’t believe in love.” “Personally? No. But love is like money. Its worth is determined by those who believe in it. And you obviously do.” Such a cynical, Alex way to look at it, but I appreciated his straightforwardness. “Thank you,” I said. “For listening to me and…everything.” He released my hand, and I curled it into a light fist, mourning his warmth. “If you really want to thank me, you’ll take Krav Maga lessons.” Alex arched an eyebrow, and I laughed softly, grateful for the small break. It’d been a heavy night. “Okay, but you have to sit for a portrait with me.” The idea came to me on a whim, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized I’d never wanted to photograph someone as much as I wanted to photograph Alex. I wanted to peel back those layers and reveal the fire I knew beat within that cold, beautiful chest. Alex’s nostrils flared. “You’re negotiating with me.” “Yes.” I held my breath, hoping, praying… “Fine. One session.”

I couldn’t hold back my smile. I was right. Alex Volkov did have a multilayered heart.

15 AVA I A studio or outdoors. I took all of my photoshoots seriously, but this one felt different. More intimate. More…life-changing, like it had the power to make or break me, and not just because I might submit it as part of my portfolio for the WYP fellowship. I would have Alex Volkov all to myself for two hours, and I wouldn’t squander a single second. I eventually chose to shoot him in a studio. I booked the space in the university’s photography building and waited, pulse thumping, for him to arrive. I was more nervous than I should be, but maybe that had something to do with the wildly inappropriate dream I’d had last night. One that featured me, Alex, and positions that would make an acrobat’s jaw drop. Even now, I flushed at the memory. To stave off the onslaught of unbidden, erotic images, I fiddled with my camera and stared outside the window, where hints of fall bloomed on the trees and leaves swirled lazily on soft gusts of wind. Red, yellow, orange—fire on air. A physical marker of the transition from the hot, halcyon days of summer to the icy, bone- chilling beauty of winter. It was September, but a different kind of winter whooshed in on a cloud of delicious spice and cool reserve. Alex entered the room, cutting a sleek, powerful figure in his all-black outfit—black coat, black pants, black shoes, black leather gloves. A sharp contrast to the pale beauty of his face.

My fingers tightened around my camera. My creative soul salivated, desperate to capture that mystery and lay it bare on the page. I’ve found that the quietest, most reserved people often make the best portrait subjects because the exercise doesn’t require them to speak; it requires them to feel. Those who bottle up their emotions every day feel the strongest and love the hardest; the best photographers are the ones who can capture each drop of emotion as it spills out and mold it into something visceral, relatable. Universal. Alex and I didn’t greet each other. No words, not so much as a nod. Instead, the air hummed with silence as he divested himself of his coat and gloves. It wasn’t overtly sexual, but everything about the man was sexual. The way his strong, deft fingers slid each button from its hole without so much as a pause or stumble; the way his shoulders and arms flexed beneath his shirt as he hung his coat on the hook by the door; the way he moved toward me like a panther stalking its prey, his eyes bright with scorching intensity. The velvety tips of butterfly wings brushed my heart, and I clutched my camera tighter, willing myself not to step back or tremble. Liquid warmth pooled in my stomach, and every inch of my body became a nerve ending, hypersensitized and throbbing with arousal. He hadn’t touched me, and I was already so turned on I trembled. I hadn’t thought that was possible outside romance novels and movies. Those green eyes flared, like he knew exactly what he did to me. How tight my nipples were beneath my thick sweater, how wet I was between my thighs. How much I wanted to devour him, to pour myself into the cracks of his soul so he would never be alone. “Where do you want me?” Gravel rasped his voice for the first time since I’d met him, turning the clear, authoritative tone into something darker. More sinful. Where did I want him? Everywhere. Over me. Beneath me. Inside me. I licked my suddenly dry lips. Alex’s gaze dropped to my mouth, and my entire body pulsed.

No. I wasn’t a schoolgirl on a date. I was a professional. This was professional. A portrait session with a subject, just like countless other sessions I’d had in the past. Of course, I hadn’t wanted to throw any of my previous subjects on the floor and ride them until kingdom come, but that was a minor detail. “Uh, here is fine,” I croaked, gesturing to the stool I’d set up on a plain white background. I’d kept today’s set up simple. I didn’t want anything to detract from Alex, not that they could. His presence obliterated everything around him until he was the only thing left standing. He folded himself gracefully on the stool while I checked my settings and snapped a few test shots. Even unposed, his photos jumped off the screen, his gorgeous features and piercing eyes tailor-made for the camera. I reigned in my shameless lust and spent the next hour coaxing him out of his shell, moving him into various poses, and encouraging him to relax. I wasn’t sure Alex understood the meaning of the word. The pictures so far were beautiful, but they lacked emotion. Without emotion, a beautiful photo is just a photo. I attempted to open him up with chitchat, talking to him about everything from the weather to Josh’s latest update to that day’s news, but he remained aloof and guarded. I tried a different tactic. “Tell me about your happiest memory.” Alex’s lips thinned. “I thought this was a photoshoot, not a therapy session.” “If it were a therapy session, I’d be charging you five hundred dollars an hour,” I quipped. “You have an inflated sense of your worth as a therapist.” “If you can’t afford me, just say so.” I snapped more pictures. Finally . A sign of life. The click and whir of the shutter filled the air. “Sweetheart, I could get you with a snap of my fingers, and I wouldn’t have to shell out a single penny.” I lowered my camera and glared at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of Alex’s mouth. “It means you want me. You wear your emotions all over your face.”

My thighs clenched, and my skin burned until I thought I’d collapse into a pile of ashes on the ground. “Now who’s the one with an inflated sense of self-worth?” I managed, my heart racing. Alex had never said anything so direct to me before. He usually shut down any hint of attraction between us, but here he was, talking about me wanting him. He was right, but still. Alex leaned forward and clasped his hands loosely together. Graceful, casual but alert. Waiting to lure me into his trap. “Tell me it’s not true.” I licked my lips again, my throat parched, and his gaze zeroed in on my mouth. The small but unmistakable movement bolstered my confidence and compelled me to say something I would’ve never had the guts to say otherwise. “It’s true.” I almost smiled at the flare of surprise in his eyes. He hadn’t expected honesty. “But you want me too. Question is, are you too scared to admit it?” Alex’s thick, dark brows lowered. “I’m not scared of anything.” Lies. I would’ve believed him a month ago, but now I knew better. Everyone fears something; it’s what makes us human. And Alex Volkov—for all his control, all his power—was still wonderfully, frighteningly, heartbreakingly human. “That doesn’t answer my question.” I walked over to him, my camera swaying from the strap looped around my neck. He didn’t move an inch, not even when I brushed my fingers along his jaw. “Admit you want me, too.” I wasn’t sure where my boldness came from. I wasn’t Jules. I always waited for the guy to ask me out—partly out of fear of rejection, partly because I was too shy to make the first move. But I had a feeling if I waited for Alex, I might have to wait forever. It was time to take matters into my own hands “If I wanted you, I would’ve taken you already,” Alex said with lethal softness. “Unless you’re too scared.” I was playing with fire, but that was better than standing out in the cold alone. I stiffened when Alex trailed his fingers down my neck and over my shoulder. His lips curved into a smirk. “Nervous? I thought this was what you wanted,” he taunted. His hand dipped lower, closer

to the curve of my breast. The ice pools in his eyes melted, revealing a blazing inferno that heated me from head to toe. My head spun. My nipples tightened into firm beads, and my pulse throbbed through every inch of my body. Somehow, it was worse that he wasn’t touching me where I ached most; the anticipation heightened my senses, and my skin tingled with phantom caresses. “That’s not what I said,” I wheezed. Oh God, this was embarrassing. What had I been thinking? I wasn’t a femme fatale or a…a…whatever else was like a femme fatale. I couldn’t think straight. Alex grazed his thumb over my breast, and I moaned. Moaned. From a touch that lasted less than two seconds. I wanted to die. His pupils dilated until the green irises were eclipses ringed with jade fire. He dropped his hand, and cool air rushed in to replace the warmth of his touch. “Finish the photoshoot, Ava.” The roughness of his voice scraped against my skin. “What?” I was too shocked by the sudden change in the atmosphere to process his words. “The photoshoot. Finish it,” he gritted out. “Unless you want to start something you’re not ready to finish.” “I—” The photoshoot. Right. I backed away on unsteady legs and tried to refocus on the task at hand. Alex sat straight-backed, his face hard, while I circled him and captured every angle I could think of. The low hum of the heater was the only sound breaking the silence. “Okay. We’re done,” I said after twenty minutes of excruciating quiet. “Thanks—” Alex stood, grabbed his coat, and walked out without another word. “For doing this,” I finished, my words echoing in the empty room. I exhaled a long-held breath. Alex was the most mercurial person I knew. One minute, he was gentle and protective; the next, he was closed-off and distant. I scrolled through the photos, curious as to how they’d turned out.

Oh. Wow. Alex’s emotions leaped off the screen after our… interaction, and yes, most of it was irritation, but irritation on him looked better than contentment on anyone else. The way the shadows hit the sharp lines of his brows, the glare of his eyes, the set of his jaw…these were possibly the best photos I’d ever taken. I paused at one of the last shots, and my heart stuttered to a stop. I’d been so busy snapping away I hadn’t paid attention in the moment, but now I saw it clear as day. Stark desire scrawled across Alex’s face as he stared at me, his eyes burning through the camera and straight into my soul. It was the only photo where he wore that expression, so it must’ve been a momentary slip on his part. A stripping of his mask, if only for a few seconds. But here’s the thing: even a few seconds can change someone’s life. And as I turned off the camera and packed up my equipment with shaky hands, I couldn’t shake the feeling that mine had been altered forever.

16 ALEX “I’ .” I chair and rolled my whiskey glass in my hands, watching dust mites dance in the air before me. “Hmmm.” My uncle rubbed his jaw, his eyes sharp as he examined me through the screen. I’d turned the guest room into my home office, as I preferred to work from home on the days I didn’t have to be in the office. Fewer tiresome interactions that way. “You don’t seem excited for someone who’s been working toward this since you were ten.” “Excitement is overrated. All I care about is that it’ll be done.” Despite my words, my chest pinched, because my uncle was right. I should feel excited. Vengeance was so close I could taste it, but instead of sweet relief, it coated my tongue with bitterness and turned my stomach sour. What came after vengeance? Every other purpose I could have paled in comparison to the force that had driven me all these years. It’d held me together while I shattered on the inside. It’d revived me as I lay bleeding, comatose in a pool of guilt and horror. It’d created the chessboard on which I’d painstakingly lined up all the pieces one by one, year over year until the moment came for me to topple the king. I didn’t fear much, but I feared what would happen after I lost my purpose. “Speaking of done…” I set my glass on the table. “I assume you signed the papers for the Gruppmann deal today.” Ivan smiled. “Congratulations. You’re one step closer to world domination.” Me. Because Archer Group had always been mine.

I’d funded its inception with my money, and the company had flourished under my guidance over the years. My father had started his own successful construction company after immigrating to the U.S., and it’d been his dream to see me take it over one day. The company had collapsed in the wake of his death—I’d been too young to prevent its demise—but I’d built upon his legacy and created something new. Something bigger. All my parents had wanted was for me to grow up happy and successful. While the “happy” part may be a reach, I could damn well work on the “successful” part. After my uncle and I wrapped up our weekly check-in, I opened my burner laptop and pulled up the encrypted folder where I kept all the documents detailing my enemy’s finances, business dealings—both legal and illegal—and upcoming contracts. I’d chipped away at his empire over the years, slow enough that he thought he was just going through a long string of shitty luck. Now I needed just one more piece of evidence before I felled him for good. I stared at the screen, the numbers blurring before my eyes as I envisioned my endgame. The prospect didn’t excite me as much as it used to. At least I’d taken satisfaction in the fall of Liam Brooks. A few well-placed calls, and he’d been fired and blacklisted from every company that mattered in the northeastern United States. A few whispers in the right ears, and he’d landed on D.C. society’s blacklist. Honestly, I’d just sped up his inevitable fall from grace— according to the information my people dug up, Liam had picked up a nasty drug habit and several DUIs since graduating. It was only a matter of time before he fucked up at his job or pissed off the wrong people on his own. He was a man who’d had everything handed to him on a silver platter, and he threw it away for a temporary high. Excuse me while I cry a nonexistent river. Then again, he’d cheated on Ava, so he clearly lacked the good-judgment gene. My phone pinged with a social media notification. I despised social media, but it was the world’s biggest goldmine of information. It was amazing how much personal information people shared online with little to no regard for who might be watching.

I tapped on the notification so it would go away and accidentally clicked into the app, where a shaky video of two people arguing auto-played. I was about to exit when I paused. Looked closer. Fuck! The video was still playing when I left and sped toward Madeline’s house.

17 AVA O I’ F , getting trapped in a pool room by a blonde who eyed me like I’d stolen her favorite Prada purse wasn’t one of them. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” I strove for politeness even as I took a step back. The woman looked familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d seen her before. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” Her smile could’ve cut glass. Objectively, she was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever met. With her spun-gold hair, cerulean eyes, and statuesque body, she was what I imagined Aphrodite would look like had she been a real person. But there was something hard about her expression that made her not attractive at all. “Madeline Hauss of the petrochemical Hausses. This is my house.” “Oh. I’m Ava. Chen,” I added when she continued staring at me. “Of the, uh, Maryland Chens. Can I…help you?” I hoped that didn’t come off rude, considering this was her house, but I hadn’t wanted to attend this party in the first place. Stella, who was friends with what must be Madeline’s sister, had persuaded me to go out after I spent the past few days buried in school, work, and my fellowship application. Jules and Bridget were both busy tonight, so it was only the two of us. “I wanted a good look at you,” Madeline purred. “Since you captured so much of Alex’s attention during the gala.” The gala. Of course. This was the woman I’d seen Alex talking to while I danced with Colton. I’d tried not to look, but I couldn’t help staring and comparing myself to her the whole time. To Jules’s dismay, I’d nixed the jealousy part of Operation Emotion, but I’d admittedly used Colton to make Alex jealous at

the gala. It was stupid and petty, but Colton had shown up around the same time I saw Alex with Madeline, and I’d been so consumed with jealousy myself I went for it. Judging by Alex’s reaction when he saw us dancing, it had worked—a little too well, judging by Madeline’s glare. “I didn’t realize you knew Alex,” I fibbed. My stomach churned, and not because of Madeline’s poisonous tone. The Hausses’ pool room looked like a luxurious, modern Roman bath, all white marble and gilded columns. The pool itself gleamed turquoise beneath a glass dome that revealed the night sky in all its glory, and I spotted the colorful swirl of mosaics beneath the water forming the shape of a mermaid. But the smell of chlorine and sight of all that water… My dinner rose in my throat. The Hausses lived in a giant house in Bethesda, and Stella and I had spent the night room hopping, enjoying the different music and entertainment options in each space. While Stella left to find us fresh drinks, I’d wandered into the room next to the one we’d been in and found myself facing my worst, watery nightmare. Madeline had cornered me before I could leave, and here we were. “Oh, I know Alex very well,” Madeline said, and I knew, with a sickening drop in my stomach, that she was one of the “certain women” he’d been involved with. Were they still involved? Was she the one he’d almost gone on a date with before I ambushed him for movie night? Jealousy gnawed at me, almost overpowering my nausea from the chlorine. “What I don’t get is why he would be interested in you. ” She flicked her gaze over me. “I doubt you can keep up with his tastes in the bedroom.” Despite myself, curiosity reared its ugly head. What tastes? “You’d be surprised,” I bluffed, hoping she’d reveal more information. My mind flashed back to my sex dream starring Alex, and my heart raced. Madeline smirked. “Please. You look like the type who expects tender kisses and sweet nothings in bed. But as you probably know—” Her smirk turned vicious. “Alex doesn’t do either of those things. It’s well known amongst a certain segment of D.C.’s female

population. No kissing, no face-to-face contact during sex.” She lowered her head so she could whisper in my ear. “But he will take you from behind. Choke and fuck you till you see stars. Call you the filthiest names and treat you like a slut.” She straightened, her eyes gleaming with triumph at my scarlet face. “Some women like that. You…” She looked me over again with a laugh. “Go back to your bake sales, honey. You’re way out of your league.” My body throbbed at her words, both out of anger at her condescension and stunning arousal at the picture she’d painted. We were attracting attention. Other partygoers gathered around us, hungry for drama. A few even had their phones out, recording. I guessed Madeline was the draw, because I wasn’t well-known enough to be that interesting. “Maybe,” I said, matching the blonde’s honey-laced poison. “He just doesn’t like looking at you during sex. Because he’s never had that problem with me.” Lies. But she didn’t need to know that. I kept my head above the fray best I can, but I could play dirty when the situation called for it. Madeline’s smile disappeared. “He’ll be sick of you in a week. There’s only so much sugar a man like Alex can take before he gets a stomachache.” “And there’s only so much bitterness he can take before he kicks it to the curb.” I raised my eyebrows. “But you already know that, don’t you?” I wasn’t sure where my sass came from, since I wasn’t a sassy person, but Madeline brought out all my claws. I hated being the type of girl who fought with other girls over a guy, but she’d attacked me first. I wouldn’t stand here and let her walk all over me. Madeline’s creamy skin flushed with anger. “Are you calling me bitter?” Walk away, my better angels encouraged me. I almost did, until I pictured Madeline and Alex together, and the words fell out of my mouth. “Yes, and? What are you going to do about it?” Childish. So freakin’ childish. But the taunt was out there, and I couldn’t— My mind blanked when my body pitched backward and hit the pool with a splash. She’d pushed me. Into the pool. The pool.

Ohgodohgodohgod. Grotesque, echoing laughter broke out, but it sounded dim compared to the roaring in my ears. Shock and panic suffused me, freezing my limbs, and all I could do was stare at Madeline’s twisted smirk until my face sank beneath the water. I’m going to die.

18 ALEX “W ?” I M , resisting the urge to squeeze until I wiped the smug look off her face. I’d never raised a hand to a woman outside the bedroom—and then only if they consented—but I was this close to losing my shit. After I saw the video of Madeline pushing Ava into the pool, which I recognized from my previous visits to the Hauss mansion, I broke every speed limit to get here. By the time I arrived, the party had ended and only a few stragglers remained. I found Madeline laughing with her cronies in the kitchen, but it had only taken a glare from me for her to excuse herself and follow me into the hall. “Why don’t you tighten your hold a little?” she purred. “You know you want to.” “I’m not here to play games.” I was holding onto my patience by a thread. “Answer my question, or Hauss Industries is over.” “You don’t have that kind of power.” “Don’t underestimate me, sweetheart.” It wasn’t an endearment. “Just because we’ve fucked a few times doesn’t mean you know what—or who—I have in my back pocket. So unless you want to explain to dear old Dad why regulators are breathing down his neck and his precious company stock is tanking, I suggest you answer me. Now.” Madeline’s lips compressed into a thin line. “Her friend pulled her out of the pool, and they left,” she said, sullen. “How was I supposed to know she can’t swim?” My grip tightened, and my lips curled into a sneer when I saw the resulting flare of desire in her eyes. “Pray she’s all right, or the

downfall of Hauss Industries will be the least of your worries,” I said softly. “Do not contact or come near her or me again. Understand?” Madeline lifted her chin in defiance. “Do. You. Understand.” I pressed my thumb into the soft flesh of her neck—not enough to injure, but enough to make her flinch. “Yes,” she choked out, resentment coating her voice. “Good.” I released her and walked away, keeping my steps calm when all I wanted was to race to Ava’s house and check if she was okay. She hadn’t answered any of my calls and texts, and while I understood why, it still made me nervous. “Is she really worth it?” Madeline called after me. I didn’t bother answering her. Yes. When I reached my car, I floored the gas and nearly mowed over a group of drunk frat boys. My grip strangled the steering wheel as I imagined how Ava must have felt when she fell into the pool—or how she must feel right now. A mixture of worry and anger coiled in my stomach. Fuck what I told Madeline earlier. She’d put a huge target on her family’s back, and I wouldn’t rest until Hauss Industries was no more than a footnote in corporate history. I pulled up to Ava’s house in time to see Stella exiting. I cut the engine and made it to the front door in half a dozen long strides. “How is she?” I demanded. Worry etched itself on Stella’s face. “She could be worse, given the circumstances. I was getting us drinks when she went into the pool room…” She gnawed on her bottom lip. “Anyway, I found her when that woman pushed her into the pool. I got her out before she passed out or anything like that, but she’s pretty shaken. Jules isn’t home yet, and I wanted to stay with her, but she said she’s going to sleep and insisted I leave.” Stella’s brows knit together. “You should check on her. Just in case.” That was a big ask coming from Stella, who liked me the least out of Ava’s friends, and it said a lot about Ava’s current state. “I’ll take it from here.” I brushed past her into the living room. “How did you find out what happened so fast?” Stella called after me. “Online,” was all I said. I made a mental note to call my tech guy and have him scrub every trace of the video off the internet.

He was the same person I relied on to hack into my competitors’ computers and dig up offshore accounts. Five years of working together, and there hadn’t been a single leak or job he couldn’t complete. In return, I’d paid him enough money over the years that he could buy a private island off the coast of Fiji if he wanted. I took the stairs two at a time until I reached Ava’s room. The light spilling through the crack in the door told me she was still awake, despite what she’d told Stella. I rapped my knuckle twice against the wood. “It’s Alex.” There was a short pause. “Come in.” Ava sat in bed, her hair damp and her gaze wary as she took me in. Worry edged out my anger when I saw how pale her cheeks were and the way she shivered, even though the heat was on and she’d tucked herself beneath a thick comforter. “I saw what happened. Some fucker filmed it live on social.” I sat on the edge of the bed and resisted the insane urge to tuck her into my chest. “I’m sorry.” “It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself for fucked-up things other people do.” A smile ghosted my mouth as she threw my words back at me. “You have terrible taste in women though.” Ava sniffled. “Do better.” “Madeline and I are over. We never even started.” “That’s not what she told me.” I cocked my head at her stiff tone. “Are you…jealous?” The thought pleased me more than it should’ve. “No.” With her scowl and fluffy gray top, she looked like an angry kitten. “As if. So what if she’s tall and blonde and looks like a Victoria’s Secret model? She’s a horrible person. Next time I see her, I’m going Krav Maga on her ass.” I bit back a full smile. Ava had attended all of one lesson. It’d be a while before she went anything on anyone’s ass, but her indignation was adorable. “She won’t be bothering you again.” I grew serious. “The pool —” “I thought I was going to die.” I flinched, horror skating through me at the thought. “I thought I was going to die because I can’t swim and I have this stupid phobia and I am so sick of it. ” Ava fisted her covers, her mouth tight. “I hate feeling helpless and out of control in my

own life. Do you know one of my biggest dreams is to travel the world and I can’t even do that because the idea of flying over an ocean makes me sick?” She took a deep, shaky breath. “I want to see what’s out there. The Eiffel Tower, the pyramids of Egypt, the Great Wall of China. I want to meet new people and try new things and live life, but I can’t. I’m trapped. When I was in that pool, thinking those were my last moments…I realized I’ve done none of the things I want to do. If I died tomorrow, I’d die with a lifetime of regrets, and that terrified me even more than the water.” She looked up at me, her big brown eyes wide and vulnerable. “That’s why I need you to do something for me.” This time, I was the one who swallowed hard. “What is it, Sunshine?” “I need you to teach me to swim.”

19 AVA I I A V, came to mind. Cold. Beautiful. Ruthless. Genius. “Patient” wasn’t one of them. It wasn’t even in the top thousand. But over the past few weeks, I had to admit I might have to bump it up on the list, because he’d been nothing but patient as he guided me through a series of visualization and meditation exercises to prepare me for my first real swimming session. If you’d told me two months ago that I would be “visualizing” and “meditating” with Alex freakin’ Volkov, I would’ve laughed my ass off, but sometimes reality is stranger than fiction. And you know what? The exercises helped. I’d visualize myself standing near a body of water, then use deep breathing and relaxation techniques to calm myself. I started small, with pools and ponds, and worked my way up to lakes. Alex also started taking me to bodies of water so I could get more comfortable near them. I even dipped my toe into a pool. I wasn’t cured of my fear of water, but I could think about it now without having a panic attack—most of the time. The thought of flying over an ocean still made me sick to my stomach, but we’d get there. The most important thing was, I had hope. If I worked long and hard enough, then maybe one day, I would finally conquer the fear that had haunted me for as long as I could remember. But that wasn’t the only seismic change in my life. Something had shifted in my relationship with Alex. He was no longer just my brother’s best friend, but my friend too, though some of the thoughts I had toward him were less than platonic. What I’d felt

during our photoshoot was nothing compared to the fantasies running through my mind now. He will take you from behind. Choke and fuck you till you see stars. Call you the filthiest names and treat you like a slut. That was the one snippet from my horrible conversation with Madeline I couldn’t forget. Every time I thought about it, my thighs clenched and warmth flooded my lower belly. I was also ashamed to admit that yes, I’d masturbated to fantasies of Alex doing… those things to me more than once. Not that he would. He’d been frustratingly composed since my pool incident—no heated gazes, no lingering touches, no trace of the desire I’d seen on his face in that photo from our shoot. I hoped that would change tonight. “I’m nervous.” Stella crouched behind the couch; she was so tall she had to bend all the way so her dark curls didn’t peek out from the top. “Are you nervous?” “No,” I lied. I was definitely nervous. It was Alex’s birthday, and I was throwing him a surprise party. There was every chance he hated both surprises and parties, but I felt compelled to do something for him. Besides, no one should be alone on their birthday. I’d asked Alex what his plans for tonight were—not letting on that I remembered it was his birthday—and he said he had business documents to look over. Business documents. On his birthday. I don’t think so. Since I didn’t know any of his friends except Ralph, our Krav Maga instructor, I’d kept the guest list small. Jules, Stella, Bridget, Booth, and a few other students from the KM Academy hid in Ralph’s living room. Ralph had agreed to host the shindig and trick Alex into thinking it was a casual Halloween get-together for academy regulars; he and Alex should arrive any minute now. I’d nixed the costume party idea—Alex didn’t strike me as a costume sort of guy—but I hoped the party itself was a good idea. Most people liked parties, but he wasn’t most people. A car door slammed, and my stomach tightened with anticipation. “Shh! They’re here,” I said in a loud whisper. The lingering murmurs in the dark room quieted. “…help me set up,” Ralph said, opening the door and flipping on the light. We all jumped out. “Surprise!”

I wish I’d had my camera ready, because the expression on Alex’s face? Priceless. He looked like a frozen mannequin except for his eyes, which moved from the balloons I’d tied to various pieces of furniture to the handmade poster spelling out Happy birthday, Alex! in glittery blue cursive before resting on my face. “Happy birthday!” I chirped, trying to tamp down my nerves. I couldn’t tell if he liked or hated the surprise, or if he was indifferent. The man was harder to read than a Latin textbook in the dark. No response. Alex remained frozen. Jules came to the rescue, turning on the music and encouraging people to eat and mingle. While the rest of the party scattered, I edged my way toward him and pasted on a bright smile. “Fooled you, huh?” “How did you know it’s my birthday?” Alex peeled off his jacket and tossed it over the back of the couch. At least that meant he was staying. I shrugged, feeling self-conscious. “You’re Josh’s best friend. Of course I know.” He frowned. “You’ve never celebrated my birthday before.” “There’s a first time for everything. C’mon.” I pulled at his wrist. “You’re twenty-seven! That means you have to take twenty-seven shots.” His frown deepened. “Absolutely not.” “It was worth a try.” I grinned. “Just wanted to see if you were dumb enough to do it.” “Ava, I’m a genius.” “A humble one too.” Alex cracked a smile. Not a big one, but we were getting there. It took some effort, but he eventually relaxed more and more throughout the night until he was eating and chatting with people like a normal human. I’d baked him a red velvet cake since he liked red velvet, and we sang “Happy Birthday” while he blew out the candles. All normal stuff. He did, however, refuse to participate when a half-drunk Ralph broke out his karaoke machine. “Come on!” I insisted. “You don’t have to be a good singer. I’m terrible, but I do it anyway. It’s all in good fun.”

Alex shook his head. “I don’t do anything unless I’m good at it, but don’t let me stop you.” “That’s silly. How can you be good at something unless you practice?” He still wouldn’t budge, so I sighed and serenaded the party with an off-key solo rendition of Britney Spears’ “Oops I Did It Again” while they cheered me on. Alex lounged on the couch, one arm draped over the back, top few buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. A lazy smile graced his face as he watched me sing my heart out. He looked so gorgeous and at ease I stumbled over the lyrics, but everyone gave me a standing ovation anyway. The party wrapped up a few hours later, and I insisted on staying and cleaning up even after Ralph told me he’d take care of it. Everyone offered to pitch in as well, so we split into different groups—garbage duty, sweeping duty, etcetera. Alex and I somehow ended up on dish duty together. Ralph didn’t have a dishwasher, so I hand-washed while he dried. “I hope you had a good time,” I said, scrubbing caked-on sugar from a plate. “Sorry if we gave you a heart attack.” His chuckle sent the butterflies in my stomach into a tizzy. “It would take more than a surprise party to give me a heart attack.” He took the plate from me and wiped it dry before setting it on the dish rack. Seeing Alex do something as domestic as dishes sent another flutter through my system. I have serious issues. “I had a good time though.” He cleared his throat, his cheeks coloring. “This was my first birthday party since my parents died.” I froze. Alex had never brought up his parents before, but I knew from Josh they’d died when he was young, which meant he hadn’t had a birthday party in at least a decade. My heart ached for him. Not because of the party, but because he could no longer celebrate with his family. For the first time, I realized how lonely Alex must be with no relatives left in the world except for his uncle. “So what do you usually do on your birthday?” I asked in a soft voice. He shrugged. “Work. Grab a drink with Josh. It’s not a big deal. My parents made it a big deal, but after their death, it seemed pointless.” “How did—” I stopped myself before I finished the question. A guy’s birthday was not the right time to bring up the method of his

family’s death. Alex answered anyway. “They were murdered.” After a beat of hesitation, he added, “My father’s business rival ordered the hit and made it look like a home invasion gone wrong. My parents hid me right before the intruders found us, but I saw…” His throat bobbed with a hard swallow. “I saw it happen. My mom, dad, and little sister, who didn’t hide in time.” Horror suffused me at the thought of someone having to witness their own family’s murder. “I’m so sorry. That’s—I have no words.” “It’s all right. At least they caught the bastards who pulled the trigger.” “And the business rival?” I asked softly. His eye twitched. “Karma will get him.” My heart weighed heavy in my chest even before something more horrifying occurred to me. “Your HSAM—” Alex flashed a humorless smile. “Is a real bitch. I relive that day every day. Sometimes I think about whether I could’ve saved them, even though I was just a kid. I used to rage at the unfairness of it all until I realized no one gives a shit. There’s no entity out there listening to me yell at them. There’s only life and luck, and sometimes both those things deal you a crap hand.” Tears stung my eyes. I’d forgotten all about the dishes; my heart hurt too much. I stepped closer to Alex, who watched me approach with a tense expression. “Sometimes, but not all the time.” I heard the faint chatter of other guests in the living room, but they might as well be light- years away. Here, in the kitchen, Alex and I had entered our own little world. “There’s something beautiful waiting for you, Alex. Whether you find it tomorrow or years from now, I hope it’ll restore your faith in life. You deserve all the beauty and light in the world.” I meant every word. Beneath the icy shell, he was human like everyone else, and his broken heart broke mine a hundredfold. “There you go, romanticizing me again.” Alex didn’t move as I took another step toward him, but his eyes burned with intensity. “It’s too late for me, Sunshine. I destroy everything beautiful that comes into my life.” “I don’t believe that,” I said. “And that wasn’t romanticizing you. This is.”

Before I could lose my nerve, I stood on tiptoes and kissed him. It was a soft, chaste kiss, but the effect was the same as a full- on make out session. Sparks consumed my skin, and the heat in my stomach flared to life. I shuddered at the sensation, my pulse beating so wildly I couldn’t hear anything else. Alex’s lips were cool and firm, his taste like that of spice and red velvet, and I wanted to wrap myself around him and devour him until every bit of him was inside me. Alex remained still, his chest rising and falling with harsh breaths beneath my tentative touch. I pressed a firmer hand against his chest and ran my tongue along the seam of his lips, seeking entry— I gasped when Alex yanked me toward him and deepened the kiss. His hand fisted my hair and tugged, forcing my back to arch while his tongue plundered my mouth. “Not the romance you were thinking of, is it?” he growled, his grip so tight my eyes watered. He’d spun me around so the edge of the counter dug into my flesh, and he used his other hand to hitch my leg up around his waist. His thick erection pressed against my core, and I ground against it shamelessly, desperate for the friction. “Tell me to stop, Sunshine.” “No.” Tell him to stop? A herd of wild horses couldn’t drag me away. I inched my hand beneath his shirt, eager to explore the expanse of smooth skin and hard muscles beneath my fingers. My entire body pulsated with need, and the possibility of someone walking in on us any moment further heightened my arousal. It was only a kiss, but it seemed so much more illicit. Dangerous. Alex groaned. His mouth claimed mine again, and the kiss turned fierce. Wanting. Hungry. He was ruthless in his invasion of my senses, his touch so hot and possessive it branded itself into my skin, and I surrendered to him without a shred of resistance. I was on the verge of unbuckling his belt when he pulled away so forcefully I stumbled forward, disoriented by the sudden loss of contact. My core throbbed, my nipples could cut diamonds, and my skin was so sensitive even the brush of air caused me to tremble. But when the fog of sensation dissipated, I realized Alex was glaring at me.

“Fuck.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, his scowl fierce enough to make grown men quake. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. ” “Alex—” “No. What the hell were you thinking?” he bit out. “Did you think we would fuck in the kitchen while your friends are in the other room?” Heat scorched my cheeks. “If this is about Josh—” “It’s not about Josh.” Alex pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled a slow, controlled breath. “Not entirely.” “Then what is it?” He wanted me. I knew he did; I felt it, and I’m not just talking about the massive bulge straining his pants. Yes, Josh would attempt to murder us both if he found out what happened, but he couldn’t stay mad at us forever. Besides, he didn’t return to D.C. until Christmas. We had time. “It’s me. And you. Together. It won’t work.” Alex’s glare intensified. “Whatever fantasies you have of us swirling in that pretty head of yours, kill them. That kiss was a one-time mistake. It’ll never happen again.” I wanted to die of mortification. I wasn’t sure what would’ve been worse—Alex not kissing me back at all, or him kissing me back and saying those things. I wanted to argue, but I’d used up my boldness quota for tonight. It had taken a helluva lot for me to kiss him first, and a girl can throw herself at a guy only so many times before it becomes humiliating. “Fine.” I picked up a random dish in the sink and scrubbed, unable to look him in the eyes. My face felt so hot I thought I’d explode. “I get it. Let’s pretend that never happened.” “Good.” Alex didn’t sound as pleased as I’d expected. We worked in silence save for the clank of the porcelain. “I’m trying to save you, Ava,” he said out of nowhere, right as we finished all the dishes and I prepared to flee. “From what?” I refused to look at him, but I could see him watching me out of the corner of my eye. “From me.” I didn’t respond, because how was I supposed to tell the man determined to save me that I didn’t want to be saved?

20 ALEX I , as I stalked down the hall toward the elevators. My new assistant, who I’d hired after firing the congressman’s insipid daughter for leaking my cell number to the Gruppmann CEO, pretended to be on the phone when I passed, and the rest of the staff kept their eyes glued to their computer screens like their lives depended on it. I didn’t blame them. I’d been biting people’s heads off left and right for the past week. Incompetent, every single one of them. I refused to entertain any other reason I’d been so cranky since my birthday, especially if that “other reason” happened to be five-five with black hair and lips that tasted sweeter than sin. I ignored the two people who scrambled off the elevator when they saw me enter, and jabbed the button for the lobby. That fucking kiss. It’d tattooed itself onto my mind, and I found myself thinking about it—about the way Ava tasted and felt in my arms—far more than I should. Thanks to the “gift” of my memory, I relived those few minutes in Ralph’s kitchen like they were real every night in the shower, my fist wrapped tight around my cock and my chest burning with self-loathing. I hadn’t seen or heard from Ava since that night. She’d skipped our swimming prep sessions this week, and I didn’t even hear from her directly. Jules was the one who texted saying Ava was busy. Her absence chafed more than I cared to admit. I got into my car and deliberated. One. Two. Three. Four. I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel, torn, before I finally

gritted my teeth and set the GPS for the McCann Gallery in Hazelburg. Nineteen minutes later, I strode into the gallery, my eyes flitting over the pale wood floors, the framed prints hanging on the stark white walls, and the half dozen well-dressed patrons wandering the space before I zeroed in on the brunette behind the counter. Ava rang up a customer, her face animated and her smile bright as she said something that caused the woman to smile in return. She had a knack for doing that, bringing out the joy in others. She hadn’t noticed me yet, and for a while, I simply watched her, letting her light creep into the shadowed corners of my soul. Once the customer left, I walked over, my custom-made loafers silent against the polished floors. It wasn’t until my shadow enveloped her that Ava looked up with a polite, professional smile that wilted the second she saw me. She swallowed hard, and the sight of that small throat bob sent an unwelcome jolt of desire straight to my dick. I hadn’t fucked anyone except my right hand in months, and the celibacy was addling my brain. “Hi.” She sounded wary. “Here.” I placed a brand-new phone—the latest model, which wasn’t available on the market yet and cost me several grand—on the counter. Her brow knit in confusion. “Your current phone is clearly broken, since I haven’t received so much as a text from you in the past five days,” I said icily. The confusion lingered for a beat before it melted into a teasing expression, and my heart kicked like a damn Rockette at Radio City Hall. I made a mental note to discuss this with my doctor during my annual checkup. “You miss me,” she said. My hands curled around the edge of the counter. “I do not.” “You showed up at my work and bought me a new phone because I didn’t text you for a few days.” Ava’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “I think that amounts to missing me.” “You think wrong. I bought you the phone in case you needed a new one for emergencies. ” “In that case—” She pushed the box toward me. “I don’t need it. My phone works fine. I’ve just been busy.”

“Doing what? Attending a silent ashram in the middle of the desert?” “That’s for me to know and for you never to find out.” A vein throbbed at my temple. “Dammit, Ava, this isn’t funny.” “I never said it was.” She threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I kissed you, you kissed me back, then you said it was a mistake, and we agreed never to do it again. I thought you wanted space, and I gave it to you. I’m not one of those girls who chases after guys who don’t want them.” Ava pressed her lips together. “I know everything’s been messed up between us since Saturday. Maybe we need to…not spend as much time together. I can do the visualizations on my own, and when the time comes, I can find another swim instructor—” My blood pressure hit a record high. “The hell you will,” I snapped. “You asked me to teach you how to swim. I’m the one who worked with you all these weeks. If you think I’m going to let some fucker swoop in and take what’s mine, you don’t know me at all.” Ava stared at me, her eyes wide with shock. “We’re resuming lessons this weekend. Don’t even think of trying to find someone else.” “Fine, no need to yell.” “I’m not yelling.” I never raised my voice. Period. “Then why is everyone staring at us?” Ava winced. “Shit, including my manager. He’s looking right at us.” She busied herself with papers behind the counter. “I promise only to learn swimming with you, okay? Now leave before I get in trouble.” I turned and saw an older male with an unfortunate toupee glowering at us. “Do you get sales commission?” I asked Ava without taking my eyes off her manager, who marched toward us, his paunch jiggling over his belt with each step. “Yes. Why?” “I’d like to buy a piece from the gallery.” I turned back to Ava when her manager reached us. His name tag read “Fred.” Figured. He was a Fred if I ever saw one. “The most expensive one you have.” Her jaw dropped. “Alex, the most expensive piece in the gallery is—” “Perfect for your needs, I’m sure,” Fred cut in. He’d lost his scowl and now beamed at me like I was the second coming of

Jesus. “Ava, why don’t you ring this gentleman up for the Richard Argus moonlight piece?” She looked uneasy. “But—” “Now.” My smile cut across my face with the precision of a honed knife. “Careful with the tone, Fred. Ava is your best employee. You wouldn’t want to alienate her or any customers who value her opinion very highly, would you?” He blinked, his eyes darting around as his tiny brain struggled to process the not-so-subtle threat behind my words. “N-no, of course not,” Fred stuttered. “In fact, Ava, you stay right here with this gentleman. I’ll pack the piece myself.” “But she’ll get the commission.” I arched an eyebrow. “Yes.” The manager nodded so fast he resembled a bobblehead doll. “Of course.” While he scurried off to another part of the gallery, Ava leaned in and hissed, “Alex, the piece costs $40,000.” “Really? Shit.” “I’m sure we can—” “I thought it was expensive.” I allowed myself a soft laugh at her stunned expression. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll own a new piece of art, you’ll receive a hefty commission, and your manager will kiss your ass until the end of days. Win-win.” Fred returned with a large black-and-white print. Fifteen minutes later, the print had been packaged with the same care one would use to handle a newborn baby, and my bank account was forty thousand dollars lighter. “This weekend, our usual time, Z Hotel,” I told Ava after dismissing Fred. Her eyebrows shot up. We usually practiced at one of our houses or near a lake or Thayer’s pool so she could get more comfortable near water. “It has the best indoor pool in D.C.,” I explained. “You’re ready for actual swimming lessons.” She’d been ready for a while, but I’d wanted to make sure before throwing her into the deep end, so to speak. Ava sucked in a breath. “Really?” “Yeah.” I flashed a crooked smile. “See you Saturday, Sunshine.”

I left the gallery in a remarkably better mood than when I’d entered.

21 AVA T . I stood five feet away from the pool, my skin etched with goosebumps even though the temperature hovered at a toasty eighty-four degrees thanks to the hotel’s state-of-the-art heating system. I wore a one-piece Eres swimsuit, courtesy of Alex, who’d handed me the shopping bag without a word when he picked me up for our lesson today. After weeks of learning relaxation techniques and acclimating myself to the thought of being in water, it was time for me to get in the water. I wanted to throw up. Panic gripped me, its icy claws digging into my sweat-slicked skin and drawing invisible blood. My stomach pumped in rhythm with my wild heart, causing my breakfast to slosh around like rubber ducks in a bath. “Breathe.” Alex’s calm voice steadied me somewhat. “Remember our lessons.” “Okay.” I dragged in a lungful of air and almost gagged at the smell of chlorine. “I can do this, I can do this,” I chanted. “I’ll go in first.” He stepped into the pool until he was waist- deep in the water and held out his hand. I stared at him, willing my feet to move. “I’ll be right here. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He radiated calm confidence. “Do you trust me?” I gulped. “Y-yes.” I realized with a start that I did. One hundred percent. Alex may not be the nicest or easiest person to get along with, but I trusted him with my life. Literally.

I edged toward the pool and held my breath as I stepped in and grabbed his hand, letting his strength calm my thundering nerves. The water sloshed around my thighs, and I stumbled. The hotel’s pool room spun, the pale blue walls and terracotta tiles flashing before me in a blur. Oh God, I can’t do this. I can’t— “Close your eyes. Deep breaths,” Alex said. “That’s it…” I did as he instructed, allowing his voice to wash over me until most of the panic subsided. “How do you feel?” he asked. “Better.” I cleared my throat and tried to focus on the small radius around us instead of the entire pool. It was a standard Olympic-size pool, but it might as well be the Atlantic Ocean. “I— I’m ready.” As ready as I’ll ever be. We started on the shallow end, and Alex had me walk around so I could get used to the feeling of the water and my body’s buoyancy. After that, we went deeper until I was submerged up to my shoulders. I clung to the relaxation techniques I’d learned over the past few months, and they worked—until we reached the part of the lesson where I had to put my head underwater. I closed my eyes before I dipped my face in, unable to bear the sight of the water rushing toward me. “Help! Mommy, help me!” The words echoed in my head. So cold. So dark. I couldn’t breathe. Something glinted at the edges of my consciousness. A faint memory, perhaps, but it floated away every time I tried to grasp it. “Please!” I sank deeper. Deeper. Deeper still. Pleasepleaseplease. Icantbreathecantbreathecantbreathe. “Ava!” I gasped, the sound of my name jerking me back to the present. My screams echoed against the stone walls before fading into oblivion. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been under. It felt like mere seconds, but judging by how cold I was and how much my throat hurt, it must’ve been longer.

Alex clutched my arms, his face white. “Jesus,” he breathed, pulling me roughly into his chest while I choked out a sob. We were no longer in the pool—he must’ve carried me out during my mini blackout. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re out.” “I’m sorry.” I buried my face in his chest, embarrassed and furious with myself. “I thought I could do it. I thought—” “You did great,” he said firmly. “This is your first lesson. There’ll be more, and you’ll get better each time.” “Promise?” “I promise.” I shuddered, curling into his warmth. He felt strong and solid beneath my touch, and I was once again struck by the contradiction that was Alex Volkov. So cold and uncaring to the world, yet so warm and protective when he wanted to be. I’d known him for eight years, yet I hadn’t known him at all. He wasn’t the man I thought he was. He was so much better, even when he tried to convince me he was worse, and I wanted him like nothing before. Not only physically, but mentally and emotionally. I wanted every shadow of his soul and every piece of his beautiful, multilayered heart. I wanted to pour into him every drop of light I had to give until he consumed me whole. Until I was his, and he was mine. We stayed there—me cuddled up against his chest, him with his arms wrapped around me—until my lingering panic faded and I worked up the courage to say what I said next. “Alex…” “Yes, Sunshine?” He ran a gentle hand through my hair. “Kiss me.” His touch stilled, and he stiffened. “Please.” I licked my lips. “Forget about Josh or…whatever else may be on your mind. If you want me, kiss me. I know what we said on your birthday, and I’m sorry for going back on my word, but I need…” You. “I need this.” Alex closed his eyes, his expression pained. “You have no idea what you’re asking me.” “Yes, I do.” I pressed a hand against his abdomen, feeling it tremble beneath my touch. “Unless you don’t want to.” He left out a half-laugh, half-groan. “Does this feel like I don’t want to?” He grasped my hand and pulled it down until it rested on the most masculine part of him. My breath stuttered at his sheer

heat and size—obvious even under his swim trunks—and I curled my fingers around the thick rod, fascinated by the power I held in my palm. A low growl rumbled out of Alex’s chest. “What did I say about staying out of trouble, Sunshine? Keep doing that, and you’ll be in a world of trouble.” “Maybe I like trouble.” I tightened my grip, and he hissed out a curse. “Maybe I want to stay there.” “I’m beginning to think you’re the trouble I need to stay away from,” he muttered. He pinned my wrist to my side, and a jolt of excitement flashed through me. “But we can’t. You just—” He gestured toward the pool with his free hand. “I just what? Had a panic attack? I get those all the time when I’m near water. If that bothers you, we’re in a hotel. We can find a room.” It seemed like I’d recovered all the boldness I’d lost after kissing Alex on his birthday. His mouth tilted up. “When did you get so feisty?” “When I got sick of everyone treating me like I’m a fragile flower who’ll break if someone breathes on me the wrong way. Just because I have a phobia over one specific thing doesn’t mean I’ll freak out in other areas of my life.” I paused, then added, “Madeline told me. About what you—what you like in bed.” His expression darkened. The air turned ominous, and my heart gave an anxious thud. “What, exactly, did she tell you?” His voice lowered to a dangerous decibel. “She told me—” I gulped. “She told me you only do it from behind. That you don’t like kissing or face-to-face contact during sex. That you…” “That I what?” Alex asked silkily. “That you like choking and calling women names. In bed.” The danger in the air thickened until I could almost taste it, and my bravado faltered. Maybe baiting the tiger wasn’t the best idea… “Yet you’re still here, asking me to kiss you.” His grip on my wrist turned to iron. “Why is that, Sunshine?” He hadn’t denied it, which meant it must be true. My heart raced. “Maybe—” I wet my lips with my tongue, conscious of his eyes tracking the movement the way a lion would a gazelle. “I like those things too.”

Flames burned away the ice pools in his eyes until the heat seared me to my core. I couldn’t believe I’d ever thought him cold. In that moment, he was a supernova waiting to erupt and swallow me whole. And I’d love every second. Alex released me and stood, no trace of the patient, soothing man from earlier tonight in sight. In its place was something hungry and depraved that caused me to tremble with lust. “Get up,” he said, his voice soft but so commanding I obeyed without thinking. “You’re about to find out what happens when you invite yourself into the lion’s den.”

22 ALEX I ’ all but drag Ava into the luxurious suite. I was so fucking hard my cock almost punched a hole through my pants, and the images I had running through my mind… Fuck. I was going to destroy her, but any remaining shred of conscience I possessed had disappeared the moment she’d uttered those words. Maybe I like those things too. My blood roared at the memory. Baby, you have no idea what you got yourself into, I thought, shutting the door behind me. Ava stood in the middle of the bedroom, wearing a dress over her swimsuit and a half-nervous expression. With her doe eyes and innocent features, she resembled a sacrificial virgin awaiting defilement. My cock throbbed harder. “Take off your clothes,” I said, my soft voice a whip crack in the silence. Part of me wanted to bury myself deep inside her as soon as possible; the other part wanted to savor every moment. Despite a slight shake in her hands, Ava didn’t hesitate. She kept her eyes trained on mine as she unzipped her dress and the gauzy material pooled around her ankles. The swimsuit went next, sliding down inch by torturous inch until a masterpiece of bare golden flesh unveiled itself. I devoured her with my eyes, taking in every detail and imprinting it in my mind. Her skin glowed bronze beneath the suite’s dim lights, and her body…Christ. Round ass, long legs, the

sweetest little pussy, and firm, perky tits—not big, but enough for a handful and tipped with hard, rosy nipples that were perfect for sucking and nibbling. Her chest rose and fell with every breath, and she stared at me with nothing but trust in those big, brown eyes. Oh, Sunshine. If you only knew. I circled her, a predator toying with its prey, so close I could smell the tang of her arousal. I stopped behind her and pressed my body against hers until she could feel my angry, steel-hard erection against the soft curve of her ass. She was naked as the day she was born while I was fully clothed, and somehow that made the scene even filthier. I pressed my lips to her neck, enjoying the rapid flutter of her pulse beneath my mouth. “You want me to take you, Sunshine?” I murmured. “Ruin you, pound you into a pathetic mess, turn you into my little fuck doll?” A whimper escaped her mouth and shot straight to my groin, hardening my already aching cock. “Y-yes.” “You say yes so easily.” I licked the hollow between her neck and lower jaw. True to my nickname for her, she tasted like sunshine and honey, and I wanted to devour her. Feed off her light, consume every inch of her until she was mine and mine alone. “But do you know what it means to be taken by me?” Ava shook her head, a quick, small movement that underscored her innocence and naivete. Not for much longer. Once I got my hands on her, she’d be filthy. Broken. Just like everything I touched. But she’d be mine. And I was selfish and cruel enough that I’d take her with me while I burned down the world. “It means you’re mine. Your mouth is mine…” I rubbed my thumb over her bottom lip before trailing it down her chest and pinching her nipples. She moaned. “Your breasts are mine…” I drifted lower, adjusting my position so I could squeeze her ass. Hard. “Your ass is mine…” I reached around and parted her thighs, sliding my fingers past her slippery folds. She was so wet they were drenched within seconds. “And your pussy is mine. Every inch of you belongs to me, and if you ever let another man touch you—” My other hand closed around her throat. “He’ll end up in pieces, and you’ll end up tied to my bed and fucked in every

hole until my name is the only one you remember. Do you understand?” Her cunt clenched around my fingers. “Yes.” “Say it. Who do you belong to?” “You,” Ava whispered. “I belong to you.” “That’s right.” I slipped my fingers out of her pussy and thrust them into her mouth. I hummed in approval when she sucked and licked her own juices off without my asking. “Do you taste that, Sunshine? That’s the taste of you signing your life away. Because from now on, I own you. Body, mind, and soul.” Another moan, this one even more eager than the last. I released my hold on her. “Get on your knees.” She sank to the floor, so beautiful it made my chest hurt and my cock throb. I fisted her hair and tugged it back until she stared straight up at me. “If it gets to be too much, tap my thigh.” When she nodded, I tugged her hair harder and ordered, “Open your mouth.” I slipped the head of my cock into her waiting mouth, slowly pushing deeper until I was buried all the way down her throat. “Fuck .” The sensation of her mouth engulfing me was so hot a shudder rippled through my entire body, and I almost shot my load right there. I hadn’t done that since I was a teenager having sex for the first time. Ava blinked up at me, her eyes watering from my size and how deep I was, but she didn’t tap out, so I stayed still while she adjusted. After what felt like an eternity but was in actuality a few seconds, she started licking and sucking—slowly at first, but quickly building up to a rhythm that had her bobbing her head up and down with enthusiasm. My other hand shot to the back of her head, and my abs shook from the effort not to come down her throat before I was ready. “That’s it,” I growled. “Suck that cock like a good little whore.” The vibrations from her ensuing moan traveled all the way up my spine. I started thrusting into her, faster and faster until the only sounds were that of my ragged breaths, flesh slapping against flesh, and the gurgles coming from her throat. I was so rough I half-expected her to finally tap out, but she never did. I pulled out at the last second and came all over her face and chest, the thick white streaks coating her skin in a glistening sheen. My orgasm burned through me, wild and hot, razing any

lingering doubts that stood in its way, and I watched my cum drip off Ava’s chin with possessive, lust-filled eyes. A pale pink flush of arousal stained her face, and her gaze remained locked to mine as her tongue darted out to lick a drop of cum from the corner of her mouth. Holy fuck. I’d witnessed or partaken in just about every filthy sex act imaginable, but that small movement might’ve been the hottest thing I’d ever seen. “Get on the bed,” I ordered, my voice thick with gravel. “All fours. Now.” Her hands and knees barely had time to hit the mattress before I stripped off my clothes and came up behind her, spreading her thighs with my hands. “You are so very wet, my beautiful whore.” I licked her glistening juices off her skin, savoring the taste and delicate female scent that drove every man crazy. I pushed a finger inside her tight, slick folds and was rewarded with a loud whimper. “Do you want me to eat out this gorgeous cunt of yours?” “Please,” Ava gasped, pushing back at me. “I need—oh God.” She dropped her head, her squeal muffled by the pillows when I flattened my tongue against her clit, alternating between long, slow licks and fast flicks. I was so fucking hungry—for her, for her taste, for the innocence shattering beneath me at this very moment. I feasted on her like a man possessed, my hand digging into her flesh, my fingers curling inside her until I found the spot that had her bucking against my face. I gently tugged on her clit with my teeth, flicking over the sensitive nub with my tongue, and she exploded, her screams reverberating off the walls. “You taste so fucking good,” I growled, lapping up every drop while she shook and trembled beneath my touch. “The perfect appetizer for tonight.” Ava twisted her head to look at me, her face flushed from her orgasm and her eyes round with shock. “That was an appetizer? I thought—you—” “Sunshine, this is a twelve-course meal.” I rolled on a condom and slid my already-hard-again cock along her drenched folds. “And we’re just getting started.” I gripped her throat and slammed into her, and all conversation ground to a halt, unless you counted her moans and my grunts as

conversation. She felt like heaven to my hell, the closest I’d ever get to salvation, and yet I still wanted to drag her into the depths of Hades with me. I fucked her so hard I was afraid I’d break her, but every time I eased up, Ava uttered tiny warning growls that had my lips curving in a mixture of satisfaction and amusement. It turned out my sweet, innocent lamb was actually a dirty little slut in disguise, and I’d never been happier to be wrong. I flipped her over in time to see her shatter once more, her pleasure-glazed eyes and sighs urging me to go faster and deeper until I, too, came apart in a powerful orgasm that ripped through me with the force of a Category Five hurricane. When my breathing slowed and I came down from my high, I found Ava staring up at me with a strange expression. “What is it, Sunshine?” I brushed my lips over hers, already preparing myself for the next round. If I was going to hell for this, I might as well enjoy every second. “No kissing or face-to-face contact during sex,” she murmured. “I thought those were your rules.” I paused. She was right. Those were my rules—ones I created after I was old enough to realize emotions had nothing to do with sex and feelings had no place in the bedroom. I’d never once broken them—until tonight. And I hadn’t even thought about it or realized it until Ava reminded me. I enjoyed fucking from the back more than the average man—there was a sense of removal that came with it, which was why it was my position of choice—but I’d wanted to see her. To watch the way she reacted to each shift in movement, to see her face when she fell apart and screamed my name. And that was when I realized I was well and truly fucked. “You’re right, sweetheart,” I said, dropping my forehead to hers with a resigned sigh. So. Fucked. “But the rules don’t apply to you.”

23 AVA B A I , I wrung out, and I would wake up sore as hell tomorrow, but I didn’t care. Alex hadn’t held back, and that was what I’d wanted. Needed. Somehow, in choosing to let go, I’d never felt more powerful. Strength in weakness, control in submission. “Aren’t you tired?” I yawned, watching Alex through half- droopy eyes. We’d gone at it for what must’ve been hours, but whereas I was ready to pass out, he looked alert and awake as ever. “If by ‘tired’ you mean you wore me out, perhaps,” he said in an uncharacteristically teasing tone. “But if you’re asking whether I’m sleepy, no.” “How is that possible?” I mumbled into my pillow. “Insomnia, Sunshine. I sleep a few hours a night—if I’m lucky.” I frowned. “But that’s…” Another huge yawn. “Not good.” Humans need sleep. How had Alex survived all this time on only a few hours a night? “We should fix that. Chamomile tea. Meditation. Melatonin…” My voice drifted off. If only my head didn’t feel so heavy and the bed weren’t so comfortable, I could make him tea or find a guided YouTube meditation or something. “Let’s talk about it later. You’re exhausted.” He smoothed a hand over my head, and I purred as I nestled into his touch. “Good night.” My breaths slowed as sleep took over. I thought I felt an arm wrap around my waist and pull me close, but I was out before I could confirm.

That night, for the first time in a long time, I slept soundly with no nightmares.

24 AVA A I our suite, subsisting on room service and orgasms and christening every surface—though I’m not sure “christening” was the right word to use, considering how filthy our activities were. Sex with Alex was sex like I’d never known it. Raw. Animalistic. Soul-destroying in the best possible way. It shattered every preconceived notion of who I was and molded me into something darker, more depraved. He called me Sunshine one moment and his whore the next. And I loved it. Even at his coldest, Alex had always treated me with respect outside the bedroom, but inside the bedroom, I was his toy. His to fuck and use—in the shower, pressed against the window, bent over the desk—and I craved it as much as he did. I screamed, my core clenching around his cock for what must’ve been the thousandth time as another orgasm ripped through and broke me into a million pieces of ecstatic agony. When the fog of pleasure finally faded, I found Alex staring down at me with a smirk. “What?” I murmured, too drowsy with content to utter more words. “I love watching you come apart.” His hands gripped my hips possessively. “Only for me, Sunshine. Never forget that.” “What would you do if I did?” I’d meant it as a tease, but Alex’s eyes glittered with danger as his fingers dug into my flesh. “You’d have a man’s murder on your hands. Is that what you want?” He grazed my skin with his nose before he sank his teeth

into the side of my neck—punishing and marking me at the same time. Pain and pleasure burst through me. “Careful,” I breathed. “Or you’ll ruin your reputation for unfeeling sex.” “No one else will see me this way. Only you.” Before I could rein in the out-of-control butterflies in my stomach, someone knocked on the door. “Who is that?” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around his words. No one else will see me this way. Only you. A grin tugged at my mouth. “Room service. We ordered it before you cornered me and had your way with me.” Alex rolled out of bed and laughed softly when I mock glared at him from my pile of wonderful, fluffy pillows. “For someone with a supposedly ‘superior’ memory, you seem to have forgotten that you’re the one who woke me up with an urgent…issue.” I arched an eyebrow, remembering the sensation of his hands cupping my breasts and his cock rubbing against my ass this morning. “Did I?” He flashed a lazy smile, and I all but melted into a pile of goo. I would never tire of Alex’s smiles. I’m sorry, honey, but it’s over, I told my poor heart. You don’t belong to me anymore. “How inconsiderate of me.” It wasn’t until he brought back our breakfast that I realized I was starving. Sex , I decided as I nibbled on a croissant, is my favorite form of exercise. But as incredible as the weekend had been, we had to return to reality tomorrow, and there were things we still needed to discuss. “Alex…” He sighed and set his coffee down. “I know.” “What will we tell Josh?” I winced, imagining my brother’s reaction. I should buy full-body armor, just in case. “We’re both adults. It’s our decision what we do with our lives.” Nevertheless, Alex grimaced. “We’ll tell him in person when he comes home for Christmas.” I nodded. Okay, that gave us over a month to prepare—though I wasn’t sure anything would prepare us for the shitstorm Josh would unleash once he found out his baby sister and best friend were sleeping together. Which brought me to my next question…

“So, what exactly will we say? I mean—” I stabbed at a strawberry, hating myself for bringing this up during such a blissful weekend but also knowing we needed to figure out where we stood before we spiraled into a mess of misunderstandings and uncertainty. “Are we friends with benefits? Dating? Exclusive or non-exclusive?” Alex gripped my chin and brought my gaze to his. “What did I tell you? You’re mine, Sunshine. You’re never touching another man unless you want him six feet in the ground. So yes, we’re fucking exclusive.” Was it bad that his words turned me on so much? Probably, but I didn’t care. “Same for you and other women.” I scowled, remembering Madeline. “No matter how much they throw themselves at you or…or look like a supermodel. How many women have you slept with, anyway?” His grip loosened, and his dark chuckle set off flutters in my stomach. “Jealous, Sunshine?” he purred. “I like this side of you.” “You didn’t answer my question.” “It doesn’t matter.” Alex rolled me over until I was beneath him again. “All that matters is I’m only sleeping with one woman from now on.” “So, is that what we are?” I gasped when he slid his rapidly hardening cock along my already-wet slit. “Fuck buddies?” “Among other things.” He fished a condom from our dwindling supply—he’d had to run out yesterday for a box—and pinned my wrists above my head before thrusting into me. “You want to fuck, we fuck. You want to date, we date. You want to call me your boyfriend, I’ll call you my girlfriend. But for now, let me take care of that needy little pussy of yours, hmm?” And he did. My shameless moans soaked the air as Alex pounded me into the mattress, his thrusts so rough the bedsprings squeaked and the headboard slammed against the wall. A tingling sensation blossomed at the base of my spine. I reached up to play with my nipples, my breaths coming out in short pants. I was close. So close . I was going to— The unwelcome ring of an incoming call interrupted our obscene symphony of moans and grunts, followed by a cool voice. “This is Alex.”

My eyes flew open. I gaped at Alex, who stared down at me with a calm expression as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the call. Gone was passionate, playful Alex; in its place was the composed businessman Alex. “No, I’m free to talk. What happened with the Wilbur development?” Free to talk? He was still inside me! He wasn’t moving, but I could feel every hard inch of him buried in between my thighs. I opened my mouth to protest, but he shot me a warning look and pressed the fingers of his free hand into my hip, silencing me. “Bastard,” I mouthed. I knew Alex was ambitious, but I’d never expected him to take a business call in the middle of freakin’ sex. What was worse, I’d been about to come, and I was left squirming with need while he discussed square footage and building plans. I rolled my hips up, desperate for friction. His eyes flared and his grip tightened before he slid out of me. He muted his end of the call, placed it on speaker, and hauled me off the bed with one arm while he carried his phone in the other. “What are you doing?” I wrapped my legs around his waist while the man on the other end of the line droned on about zoning laws. Alex deposited me next to the couch. “Bend over and spread your legs.” Lust speared through me at his authoritative tone. I trembled but obeyed, placing my hands on the armrest, arching my back, and spreading my legs until every inch of me was bared to him. Satisfaction curled in my stomach when I heard his sharp intake of breath. The man stopped talking, and Alex unmuted the line to answer his question. I could see my reflection in the large glass window opposite the couch. Wanton and flushed, my hair tousled from our sex marathon and my breasts hanging heavy and full. Behind me, Alex stood proud as a sculpted god, his face carved with brutal lust as he squeezed my ass. My soft moan turned into a squeal when he slammed into me hard enough that the couch scraped forward an inch. “Don’t make a sound,” he warned. “This is an important call.”

The flames of desire burned hotter. I should be upset that he was on a business call of all things while fucking me, but I was so turned on I couldn’t see straight. There was something so dirty and delicious about fucking while his partners prattled on, clueless. Alex’s thrusts picked up a steady, punishing rhythm until I was no longer gripping the armrest—I was on the couch itself, my hips draped over the arm, my face buried in the cushions, my rock- hard nipples and swollen clit scraping against the fabric as he fucked me so viciously my feet lifted off the ground. All the while, he continued his call, taking it off mute only when he had to speak. When he did, his voice remained calm and even, though I could hear his harsh breathing in the moments when he was silent. I had no clue what they were talking about anymore, too lost in a fog of lust to decipher specific words and phrases. An unbidden yelp erupted from my throat when he hit a spot that caused my back to bow. Alex fisted my hair and tugged my head back until I was half- upright again while his other hand closed around my throat. A warning and a reminder rolled into one. Don’t make a sound. I tried my best. I really did. But I was a mess—I could see it in the window, my tear-streaked face and glazed eyes, my mouth hanging slack as orgasm after orgasm crashed over me in an endless, white-hot wave of sensation. Was it possible to die from too much pleasure? If so, that was what was happening. I was dying a million tiny deaths, each one ripping me apart and piecing me back together only for the next to destroy me again. Another sob of pleasure, one that had Alex releasing my hair so he could cover my mouth and muffle my whines. One hand over my mouth, one hand around my throat. I came again, my entire body shuddering with the force of my explosion. Alex fucked me harder, deeper, the couch screaming with protest—it had slid halfway across the floor by now, its progress impeded only by the wall—and I realized it was otherwise quiet. The call was over. “I thought you were better at following directions, Sunshine,” he said silkily. “Didn’t I tell you not to make a sound?” I responded with an incoherent mumble—my failed attempt at apologizing.

“No words?” Alex slid his hand down from my throat to my nipples. He pinched them hard, one after the other, eliciting another jumbled moan. “Did I fuck your brains out, my gorgeous slut?” Considering I couldn’t even remember my name, probably. And as the minutes—hours—rolled into each other, I lost myself in him. In us. In sweet, filthy, depraved oblivion.

25 AVA M A’ relationship status. Jules was ecstatic, claiming she knew Alex had a thing for me and demanding to know what he was like in bed. I refused to answer but flushed a deep crimson, and that had told her all she needed to know. I think Jules would have died of disappointment had Alex’s bedroom skills not lived up to the promise of his devastating looks and intimidating presence. Luckily for me, they did. Stella, meanwhile, was worried. Happy for me, but worried. She warned me to take things slow and not fall too hard, too fast. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that train had left the station ages ago. Maybe not the “too fast” part, as Alex Volkov had stolen my heart, bit by bit, over the years, even before I thought I liked him, but the “too hard?” Heart, meet freefall . Bridget was neutral. I supposed princesses were inherently more diplomatic, which was why she said nothing other than if I was happy, she was happy. The specter of Josh lingered in the background, and I’d acted so jumpy during our last call he’d demanded to know what was wrong. I told him I had period cramps, which shut him up. Periods sucked, but they were a useful weapon for shutting down questions from men. Today though, I had another family member on my mind. I waved goodbye to Bridget and Booth, who’d driven me to my father’s house—an hour and a half from Hazelburg—so I didn’t have to take the train or bus, and unlocked the front door. The house smelled like pine-scented air freshener, and my sneakers squeaked against the polished floors as I searched for my father.

It was his birthday on Tuesday. Since I had class, work, and a photoshoot that day, I’d decided to surprise him today with his favorite cake from Crumble & Bake. I heard sounds coming from the den, and when I entered the room, I found my dad poring over papers at the table in the corner. “Hey, Dad.” I slid my bag strap off my shoulder and let the leather tote thump on the ground. He glanced up, surprise scrawled over his face when he saw me standing there. “Ava. I didn’t know you were coming home this weekend.” Michael Chen was not a conventionally good-looking man, but I’d always considered him handsome the way all little girls thought their fathers were handsome. Black hair peppered with gray at the temples, broad shoulders, and a dusting of stubble on his chin. He wore a striped polo shirt and jeans, his casual outfit of choice, and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose. “I’m not. Well, not the whole weekend.” I flashed an awkward smile. “I wanted to drop by and wish you a happy early birthday.” I placed the cake box on the table. “I’m sorry Josh and I can’t be here on your actual birthday, but I brought your favorite cheesecake from C&B.” “Ah. Thank you.” He stared at the box but didn’t touch it. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, restless in the silence. We had never been good at talking to each other. Luckily, we’d had Josh to fill our conversations with chatter about med school, sports, and his latest adrenaline-inducing adventure. Skydiving, bungee jumping, ziplining—he did it all. But now Josh was in Central America, and I realized how little my dad and I had to say to each other. When was the last time we’d had a real, one-on-one conversation? Probably not since he sat my fourteen-year-old self down and explained what happened with my mother. “I don’t understand.” My face twisted with confusion. “You told me Mom died of a heart condition.” I didn’t remember Mom. I didn’t remember anything before The Blackout other than brief moments that flashed through my mind at unpredictable times—a snippet of a lullaby sung in a haunting voice, the splash of water followed by screams and laughs, the burn of a scraped knee after I fell off my bike. Glimpses into the past that were too small and fragmented to mean anything.

Of course, there were my nightmares, but I tried not to think about them except in therapy, and only because I had to. Phoebe, my therapist, believed detangling my nightmares was the key to unlocking my repressed memories. I wasn’t a trained psychiatrist like her, but sometimes I wanted to snap back at her maybe I’d be better off not remembering. My brain had repressed the memories for a reason, and no good could come of unleashing those horrorscapes into the present. Other times, I wanted to dig that key out of my twisted mind with my own hands and unlock the truth, once and for all. My father braced his hands on his knees and leaned forward with an intensity that unnerved me. “That’s not entirely true,” he rumbled in that deep voice of his. “We told you that because we didn’t want to distress you, but Phoebe and I agreed you’re old enough to know the truth now.” My pulse thumped in warning. It knew. A storm was rolling in, ready to rain all over my life as I knew it. “Wh-what’s the truth?” “Your mother died of an overdose. She…took too many pills one day, and her heart stopped.” Funny. That was what my heart did too. Just for a beat or two, not enough to kill me. Not like it’d killed my mom. Because “heart stopped” was just a euphemism for “died,” and “took too many pills” was just a euphemism for “committed suicide.” My lower lip trembled. I dug my nails into my thigh until crescent grooves etched into my flesh. “Why would she do that?” Why would she leave me and Josh? Didn’t she love us? Weren’t we enough? Parents were supposed to be there for their children, but she took the easy way out and left. I knew that was unfair, because I had no idea what she’d been going through, but that only angered me more. Not only did I not have my mother, but I also didn’t even have memories of her. That wasn’t her fault, but I blamed her anyway. If she were here, we could’ve made new memories, and the absence of the old ones wouldn’t matter as much. My father rubbed a hand over his face. “She didn’t leave a letter.” Of course she didn’t, I thought bitterly. “But I imagine she felt…guilty.” “About what?”

He flinched. “About what, Dad?” My voice rose. My pulse was roaring now, so loud I almost didn’t hear his answer. Almost. But I did, and when I registered his words, tasted the poison of their truth, my chest collapsed on itself. “About what happened at the lake when you were five. How you almost drowned. How she pushed you in.” I gulped in a deep breath, my lungs greedy for the oxygen. My dad shattered my world that day in my bedroom. That was why I’d been so happy when I left for college. I hated the memory of that conversation and the way his words had soaked into the walls. They whispered to me every time I walked down the halls, taunting me, twisting my past into new truths. Your own mother didn’t love you. Your own mother tried to kill you. I blinked back sudden tears and pasted a smile on my face. The smiles had gotten me through tough times. I’d read online that the physical act of smiling—even if you were unhappy—could improve your mood by tricking your brain into releasing happiness-inducing hormones. So I’d smiled all the time as a teenager, and people probably thought I was crazy, but it was better than sinking into a darkness so deep I might’ve never clawed my way out. And when smiling on my own became too hard, I looked for other reasons to be “happy” like the beauty of a rainbow after a storm, the sweet taste of a perfectly baked cookie, or gorgeous photographs of glittering cities and epic landscapes around the world. It had worked…for the most part. “…of the cake?” My father’s voice shook me out of my trip down memory lane. I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?” He hitched an eyebrow. “Do you want a piece of the cake?” he repeated. “Oh, uh, sure.” He picked up the cake box, and we walked silently to the kitchen, where he silently cut us slices and we silently chewed. Awkward with a capital A. I wondered where it had gone wrong with us. My father never had issues talking and laughing with Josh. Why did he act so

weird around me? And why did I act so weird around him? He was my dad, yet I’d never been able to open up to him fully. He paid my bills and fed and sheltered me until I went to college, but Josh had been my real sounding board over the years, the one I went to whenever I wanted to talk about my day or had problems—with school, friends, or much to his disgust, boys. It was more than the fact that my dad was an authority figure and Josh was closer to my age. I had no trouble connecting with professors and my friends’ parents. It was something else. Something I couldn’t name. But perhaps that’s just the nature of Asian parents of a certain age. It’s not in our culture to show affection openly. We didn’t say I love you or hug all the time like Stella’s family. Chinese parents show their love through actions, not words—working hard to provide for their children, cooking food, taking care of their kids when they’re sick. I grew up not wanting for any material goods, and my father paid my full tuition at Thayer, which wasn’t cheap. Sure, he disapproved of my photography career, and I had to fund all my equipment myself. And yeah, he played favorites with Josh, probably because he retained a deep-seated cultural preference for sons over daughters. But in the grand scheme of things, I’d lucked out. I should be grateful. Still, it would be great if I could hold a normal conversation with my own father without it devolving into awkward silence. I stabbed at my cake, wondering whether any early birthday surprise had ever been as pathetic as this one, when my skin tingled. I looked up, and the tingles morphed into chills. There. Maybe that was why I’d never opened up to my dad, because sometimes I caught him staring at me like that. Like he didn’t know me. Like he hated me. Like he feared me.

26 AVA “I’ .” Bridget drew herself up to her full five feet, nine inches and leveled an icy glare at the dark-haired man glowering right back at her. Ballsy, considering she was the princess and he was the bodyguard, but Rhys Larsen wasn’t Booth. That much was clear in the week since he’d arrived in Hazelburg to take over Booth’s protection duties. We’d thrown a big going away celebration for Booth at The Crypt and sent quick prayers that Bridget’s new bodyguard would be as cool as Booth. Prayers not answered. Rhys was gruff, surly, and arrogant. He drove Bridget mad, which was quite something, since she never lost her temper. In the past seven days, however, I’d seen her on the verge of yelling . I’d been so shocked I almost dropped my camera. “Fall Fest is an annual tradition,” she said in a regal voice. “I’ve attended every year for the past three years, and I don’t intend to stop now.” Rhys’s gray eyes flickered. He was a little younger than Booth —maybe early thirties, with thick black hair, eyes the color of gunmetal, and a broad, muscled frame that towered over Bridget’s leggy grace, even when she wore heels. Dark stubble shadowed his chin, and a small, jagged scar slashed across his left eyebrow. Without the scar, he would’ve been disconcertingly gorgeous; with it, he was still disconcertingly gorgeous, but also dangerous. More menacing. Good quality to have in a bodyguard, I supposed.

“It’s a crowd management issue.” His voice rumbled through the car, deep and authoritative, even though he was technically Bridget’s employee. “Too many people, too close quarters.” Stella, Jules, and I wisely stayed quiet while Bridget matched him glare for glare. “It’s a college event. There’s bound to be a crowd, and I’ve never had issues before. Half the people there don’t even know who I am.” “It only takes one person one time,” Rhys countered, his tone even. “One look and I know the festival is over max capacity.” “This is ridiculous. I’m not entering a war zone, and there are fewer people than at a sports game. No one ever said I couldn’t attend one of those. ” “The security measures and layout at sports games are—” “Enough.” Bridget held up a hand. “I refuse to stay in my house like a princess locked in a tower my senior year of college. I’m going, and you can either stay in the car or come with me.” She opened the car door and exited without a backward glance. Rhys’s nostrils flared, but he followed her a heartbeat later, those sharp eyes of his constantly roving, searching for danger. Jules, Stella, and I scrambled after them. Fall Fest was one of the most anticipated events of the school year. Local businesses set up booths hawking seasonal food and products discounted for students—decadent hot chocolate and apple cider donuts, pumpkin pies and pulled-pork sandwiches. There were classic games and activities like bobbing for apples, tarot readings, and—because this was college—a tailgate where local alumni and students gathered to drink to their heart’s content. Rhys was right—there were more people than expected at the festival, but it was nothing compared to the spring break parties we’d attended in the past. I understood why he was concerned, but I also agreed with Bridget he was overreacting a tiny bit. Bridget ignored him as we took advantage of all the food and activities on offer. Fall Fest was a necessary stress reliever between midterms and finals, and we had a blast—for the most part. “He’s driving me crazy,” Bridget said a while later in a low voice. She sipped her hot chocolate with a morose expression. “I miss Booth.”

I glanced over my shoulder at Rhys, who followed us with an impassive expression. Either he didn’t hear what she said, or he had the world’s best poker face. I bet the latter. I had a feeling there wasn’t much, if anything, that Rhys Larsen didn’t see, hear, or notice. “It’s his first week.” Stella snapped a picture of her drink before tasting it. “Booth has been with you for years. It’s only natural that Rhys would be more overprotective. Give him time.” “I suppose.” Bridget sighed. “I don’t know how Nik does it. He has double the security I do because he’s the crown prince, and there’s so much riding on his shoulders.” She shook her head. “I’m glad I’m second in line to the throne.” “You mean you don’t want to rule, Your Majesty?” I teased. “You could be a queen and see your face on a postage stamp.” Bridget laughed. “No, thank you. As tempting as a postage stamp with my face is, I’d rather have a modicum of freedom.” She shot a dark look in Rhys’s direction. “Unless my bodyguard has other ideas.” “He’s strict, but at least he’s delicious,” Jules said in a stage whisper. “No offense to Booth, but whew. ” She fanned herself. “Is that all you think about?” Bridget asked, clearly torn between laughter and frustration. A shadow slid across Jules’s face before it disappeared. “Most of the time. I like to think about pleasant things. Speaking of which…” She turned to me. “Where’s Lover Boy?” I rolled my eyes, a blush spreading over my cheeks. “Don’t call him that, and he’s busy running a company. He doesn’t have time for college events.” “You sure about that?” Stella tilted her chin at something behind me. I whipped around, my heart jumping in my throat when I saw Alex standing behind me. In his navy cashmere sweater and jeans, he cut a sophisticated figure amongst the crowds of drunk college students and rumpled professors. I couldn’t help it—I ran and threw my arms around him. “I thought you had work!” “I took off early.” He pressed a kiss to my lips, and I sighed with pleasure. “I miss Fall Fest.” “Uh-huh. I’m sure that’s what you miss,” Jules teased.

My friends stared at us with fascination, and I realized this was the first time they’d seen us together as a…couple? I wasn’t sure what to call our relationship. “Couple” sounded too mundane, but I guessed that was what we were. We went on dates, talked through the night, and had wild, explosive sex. Alex Volkov and I were a couple. The butterflies in my stomach quivered with excitement. Alex stayed with us through the end of Fall Fest. He declined to play most of the festival games, but we convinced him to take pictures at the pumpkin-themed photo booth. “Do you realize these are the first photos we have of the two of us?” I waved the Polaroids in triumph. “If you don’t hang them in your living room, I’ll be offended.” “I don’t know. You don’t match my decor,” he said in a bland tone. I swatted him on the arm, earning myself a rare laugh. Stella nearly choked on her hot cocoa, she was so shocked. It was the perfect afternoon: great food, great weather, great company. The only hiccup occurred when Alex nicked himself on something sharp at one of the booths. The cut was deep enough that blood welled and streaked down his finger. “It’s fine,” he said. “It’s just a scratch.” “You’re bleeding.” I planted my hands on my hips. “We have to clean and bandage it. Let’s go.” My tone brooked no opposition. No way in hell was he walking around with blood dripping down his hand. What if it got infected? Alex’s mouth quirked up. “Yes, ma’am.” I huffed at his amusement—he was bleeding —and dragged him to the campus health center, where the bored-looking student assistant supplied us with a gauze pad and Band-Aid. I rinsed the cut under running tap water in the bathroom and dabbed at it with the gauze. “Hold still.” I tossed the gauze in the trash and peeled open the Band-Aid. “You should’ve been more careful,” I grumbled. “You’re lucky you weren’t seriously hurt. What the hell were you thinking?” I looked up and found Alex staring at me with a small smile. “What?” “You’re cute when you’re worried.” I pressed my lips together, struggling to contain my smile. “Don’t try to act all sweet so you can get out of trouble.”

“Am I in trouble?” he drawled. He kicked the door shut with his foot and locked it with his free hand. My pulse ratcheted up a notch. “Yes.” “You think I’m acting sweet?” I gave a tiny nod. Alex hefted me up onto the sink. “We better remedy both those things, shouldn’t we?” My teeth dug into my bottom lip as he shoved my dress up over my chest and grazed his teeth over my nipples through the thin lace of my bra. “Alex, we’re in the student health center,” I squeaked, wanting him to both stop and keep going. Everyone was at Fall Fest so the center wasn’t busy, but the receptionist sat a few feet away outside the door and the flimsy walls were anything but soundproof. “I’m aware.” He pulled my bra aside with his teeth and lavished attention on my breasts while his non-bandaged hand found the sweet spot between my legs. I was already soaked for him, my thighs slick with my juices as he drove me crazy with his mouth and fingers. His erection pressed against my leg, thick and hard as a steel pipe, but when I reached for it, he batted my hand away. “I hope you’re not attached to your underwear,” he said. My brows drew together. “Wha—” The sound of fabric tearing answered my incomplete question. Alex’s mouth curled into a sly grin at my shocked expression. “Since we’ve established that you’re a screamer,” he said. “Open your mouth.” My resistance collapsed. I opened my mouth, and he shoved my underwear in, muffling my moan. I shivered when I tasted the slickness of my arousal. I was throbbing now, so turned on I couldn’t see straight. There was something so freakin’ erotic about knowing someone could catch us any minute. Alex returned his attention to my breasts while he slid one finger, then two, into my slippery folds. I gripped his hair, tugging so hard it must’ve hurt as he worked me into a frenzy, but if it did, he didn’t show it. He lifted his head from my chest and watched me with smoldering eyes. “That’s it, Sunshine,” he murmured, his muscles

taut as he finger fucked me harder. He was knuckles deep inside me now, the obscene sounds of him sliding in and out of my drenched core creating a dirty symphony that intensified my arousal. I rode his hand shamelessly, drool leaking from the corners of my mouth as I screamed around my makeshift gag. “Come for me like a little slut.” I did. Hard, fast, and endlessly, flying high in an explosion of starry bliss. When I finally came down, I saw that he had unbuttoned his pants and was fisting his cock. It didn’t take long before he erupted, spurting thick, hot jets all over my thighs. “No,” he said when I reached to clean myself. He pulled my shredded panties out of my mouth and pocketed them, his movements crisp and precise. “I want you to walk around with my cum on you so you know exactly who you belong to.” Heat blistered my cheeks. “Alex,” I hissed. “I can’t walk out there with no underwear and…and—” “You can, and you will.” His fingers brushed my thighs, where the cum was already drying. “The faster you obey, the faster we can leave and go home, where you can shower. With help,” he added with a wicked smile. “You’re crazy.” But I did as he asked, pulling my sweater dress down and fixing my hair. I couldn’t look the receptionist in the eye as we walked out. She probably knew what we’d done, because it didn’t take that long to bandage a wound. The wind brushed against my bareness as we rejoined our friends and I jumped, earning myself a smirk from Alex and strange looks from everyone else. “Are you okay?” Stella asked. “You look flushed.” “Yes,” I squeaked. “Just, ah, a bit chilly.” While the others got distracted by the start of the pie-eating contest, I slapped Alex’s arm. “You’ll pay for this.” “Looking forward to it.” I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stay mad at him, especially since part of me loved how dirty I felt walking around like this. “I have a serious question,” I said as we watched two seniors destroy their pumpkin pies. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” “I imagine I’ll be eating turkey somewhere,” he said casually.

“Do you…want to come to my place for the weekend? Since your uncle doesn’t celebrate and all. Not that you have to,” I added quickly. “Sunshine, I’ve spent every Thanksgiving with your family for the past eight years.” “I know, but Josh isn’t here this year, and I didn’t want to assume. I mean, meeting the dad…” Alex’s eyes gleamed with laughter. “I’ve already met your dad.” “Right. But…” I faltered. “I guess it doesn’t matter. We can’t tell him we’re dating until we tell Josh, but would it be suspicious if we show up together? Parents have a weird lie-detecting radar. What if he—” “Ava.” He placed his hands on my shoulders. “Do you want me to spend Thanksgiving with you?” I nodded. “Then that’s what I’m doing. Don’t overthink it.” “Says the King of Overthinking,” I muttered, but I was smiling.

27 AVA E , T Chinese twist. Instead of turkey and mashed potatoes, we ate roast duck, rice, dumplings, and fish cake soup. Food-wise, this year was the same, but without Josh, the dinner had been two hours of silence and awkwardness. Alex and my dad held a few brief conversations about football and work, and that was it. I think my dad was stressed about something at his office. He seemed more irritated than usual. I also suspected my dad didn’t like Alex much. It was a surprise, considering he had a soft spot for smart, accomplished people, and Alex was as smart and accomplished as they came. I’d always chalked it up to the fact that Alex didn’t kiss ass as much as Chinese parents liked—he wasn’t one for flattering words. Plus, I was ninety percent sure my dad knew something was up with me and Alex, though he didn’t say anything. “He knows,” I whispered when my dad excused himself to use the restroom. “I swear, he knows .” “No, he doesn’t. Even if he does, he has no proof, and he won’t say anything to Josh,” Alex said. “Relax. It’s supposed to be your weekend off.” “There’s no such thing as a weekend off for students.” It may have been a holiday, but I had to study for finals and finish my fellowship application. It was all done except for a few paragraphs of my personal statement. I’d included the photos I took of Alex in my portfolio, though I haven’t told him yet. They were some of my best work, but I didn’t want to say anything until I heard from the WYP committee. I didn’t want to jinx it.

“It’s too bad we’re not sleeping in the same room.” Alex’s eyes glinted. “I could help relieve your stress.” I laughed. “Is that all you think about?” Except I wasn’t much better. I wanted to sleep in the same room as Alex too—especially here, in this house, where the nightmares were always darker. But since my dad didn’t know about our relationship, Alex was staying in the guest room. “Only when I’m around you.” While my dad seemed more stressed, Alex was more relaxed these days. Smiling, laughing… he even made the occasional joke. I liked to think I had a part in loosening him up. I was still taking Krav Maga lessons with Ralph, and Alex was still giving me swim lessons—I panicked way less now than I did at the beginning—and after everything he’d helped me with, I wanted to help him too. He came off invincible and unflappable, but everybody, no matter how strong, needs a little care and attention of their own. “Alex Volkov, when did you become so cheesy?” I teased. He left out a playful growl and reached for me right as my father reentered the dining room. We sobered and maintained a safe distance between us the rest of the night, but my dad’s raised eyebrows confirmed my suspicions. He knew. I COULDN’T BREATHE. The hand tightened around my neck, and I thrashed my arms and legs, desperate to throw it off. “Stop,” I tried to say. “Please stop.” But I couldn’t. The hand was too tight. Tears blurred my vision. Snot ran down my nose. I was dying. Dying…dying… I awoke with a gasp. My sweat-drenched sheets slid off my body, and I looked around wildly, certain I’d find an intruder in my room. Deep shadows skulked in the corners, and the eerie, pale blue hues of twilight filtered through the white lace curtains fluttering in the window. But there was no intruder. “It was a dream,” I whispered, my voice a gunshot in the silence. “It was just a dream.” A different one from the ones I usually had. I wasn’t underwater. I didn’t scream. But I was terrified—more terrified

than I had been in a long, long time. Because my dreams were never just dreams—they were memories. I always had worse “dreams” at home. Maybe it was because of the lake out back. It was a different lake than the one at my mother’s house before she died, but it was a lake, nonetheless. I wished my family didn’t like lakes so much. I glanced at my digital clock, and the icy fingers of dread scratched down my spine when I saw the time. 4:44 a.m. Again. I wanted to run down the hall and throw myself into Alex’s arms. With him, I was safe. Even my nightmares had decreased in frequency and intensity since we’d started sleeping together every night—me tucked into his side, his arms wrapped around me in a protective embrace. While I wanted his insomnia cured, wanted him to get the peace and rest he deserved every night, a tiny, shameful part of me liked that he was awake to watch over me in the long hours between dusk and dawn. He was probably awake, but I forced myself to stay put in case he wasn’t. I didn’t want to risk interrupting the two or three precious hours of sleep he got every night. I crawled back beneath my covers and tried to catch more shuteye, but my skin itched, and something called to me beyond the walls. I resisted for as long as I could, until twilight melted into dawn. 7:02 a.m. A more respectable time to wake up than 4:44 a.m. I changed into a sweatshirt and yoga pants, shoved my feet into fuzzy boots, and tip-toed through the silent house toward the backyard. The air smelled fresh and crisp, and a light fog hung over the lake, cloaking the scene in mystery. The itching on my skin intensified. The call grew louder. I walked toward the lake, my boots crunching over the tiny gravel stones of the barbecue area my dad had set up for summer get-togethers. Drops of dew dusted the empty wood furniture, and the charcoal grill looked sad and lonely, rendered useless until Memorial Day weekend. My breaths formed tiny puffs in the air. It was colder than I’d expected, but I didn’t stop walking until I reached the edge of the lake—close enough to smell the damp earth beneath my feet. It was the first time I remembered visiting the lake.

I’d shied away from it growing up, going only as far as the barbecue seating area. Even then, I’d get so nervous I would excuse myself halfway through parties and run to the bathroom to bring myself under control. I wasn’t sure what compelled me to come out here this morning, but the lake’s siren song enveloped me, coaxing me closer—like it was trying to tell me a secret it didn’t want others to hear. I was better with water now after all my lessons with Alex, but a tremor of unease still spiraled through me when I thought about the watery depths before me. Deep breaths. You’re fine. You’re on solid ground. The lake will not rise up and drag you— A car alarm blared in the distance, and I flinched, all relaxation techniques forgotten as my nightmare played out in broad daylight. I picked up another stone from the ground. It was smooth and flat, the type that would make really pretty ripples. I drew my arm back to throw it, but I smelled something sweet and flowery— Mommy’s perfume—and got distracted. My aim veered, and the stone thudded onto the ground, but I didn’t mind. Mommy was back! We could play now. I turned, smiling a big gap-toothed smile, but I only made it halfway before something pushed me. I pitched forward—down, down, off the edge of the deck, my scream swallowed up by the water rushing toward my face. “Ava?” My father’s worried voice penetrated my daze. “What are you doing out here?” I forgot. He came out here every morning to exercise, rain or shine. He was religious about his morning routine. I spun, trying to escape the images flashing through my brain, but they wouldn’t stop. Old nightmares. New revelations. No. No, no, nononononono. My father’s gold signet ring flashed in the light, and I saw his face. And I screamed.

28 ALEX S . I felt it deep in my bones as I pulled into my driveway, my sixth sense blaring. Ava stared straight ahead, her face pale, her eyes unseeing. She’d been like this since the morning after Thanksgiving, when her father found her by the lake and she’d screamed so loud she woke me up from one of my rare bouts of sleep. I’d raced outside, my mind conjuring all sorts of horrible scenarios while I cursed myself for leaving her alone. For failing her. But I found her outside, safe and unharmed—at least physically—while her father tried to soothe her. Lines of distress had marred Michael’s face as she shook like a leaf in the wind, tears streaming down her face. She refused to tell us what was wrong, and it wasn’t until hours later that she confessed she’d freaked out about being that close to the lake. She wasn’t sure why she’d gone out there in the first place, but her aquaphobia had kicked in late. Bullshit. Ava could enter the pool now without panicking, and she’d stayed calm when we visited lakes before. No, something else had terrified her to the point where she’d screamed the house down, and once I found out what it was, I would hunt it to the ends of the earth and tear it apart with my bare hands. I guided her into my house, where I tucked her beneath a blanket on the couch and made her a hot drink. I’d turned off the heat since I’d gone away for the weekend, and until it caught up, the house was freezing.

“Hot chocolate with oat milk and three marshmallows.” I kept my tone light as I handed Ava the drink. “Just like you like it.” “Thanks.” She wrapped her hands around the mug and stared at the marshmallows bobbing in the liquid but made no move to drink it. Normally, she’d have downed half the mug by now. She loved hot chocolate. It was her favorite part of winter. I grasped her chin and angled her face toward mine. “Tell me who or what I need to kill,” I growled. “What happened at your father’s house?” “I told you, nothing. It was just the lake.” Ava eked out a wobbly smile. “You can’t kill a lake.” “I’ll drain every fucking lake and ocean in the world if I have to.” A tiny crystal tear slipped from her eye. “Alex…” “I mean it.” I rubbed the tear away with my thumb. My heart raged in my chest, a snarling beast furious at the sight of her distress and the thought there was something in the world that would dare hurt her. Hypocrite, my conscience whispered. Cruel, selfish hypocrite . Look in the mirror. Think about the things you’ve done. I gritted my teeth and ignored the taunting voice in my head. “I’d do it for you.” I kissed the spot where her tear had been. “I’d do anything for you. No matter how twisted or impossible.” A shudder rolled through her body. “I know. I trust you. More than anyone else in this world.” If only she knew, my conscience sang. If only she knew what kind of man you are. She wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole, much less trust you. Shut. Up. Great. I was now having silent conversations with an imaginary voice. How the mighty have fallen. “I don’t know if it’s even…if it’s true,” Ava whispered. “I could have imagined it.” My knuckles turned white around my knee. “Imagined what?” “I—” She gulped, her eyes haunted. “My childhood memories. They came back.” The confession hit me like a freight train, blindsiding me. Of all the things I’d expected her to say, that had not been one of them.

Repressed memories were usually the result of a traumatic event and could resurface if the person encountered a trigger—a sound, a smell, an event. But Ava had been at home, where she’d grown up her entire life. What had happened over Thanksgiving that could’ve triggered her? The lake? “Okay.” I kept my voice calm and even. Soothing. “What do you remember?” Ava’s shoulders trembled. “I don’t remember everything. But I remember the day I…the day I almost died.” My entire body flushed hot, then cold. Almost died. If she had died, if she was no longer somewhere in this world… The invisible noose around my neck tightened; a tiny bead of sweat trickled down the back of my neck. Her near-death experience wasn’t my fault. It’d happened long before I met her, but still… My breath grew shallow. “I was playing by the lake.” She licked her lips. “There used to be a dock that ran out to the middle of the water. My dad took it down after The Incident—that’s what I call what happened—but we used to go out there all the time until my parents’ divorce. My dad moved out, and my mom fell into a depression. It was a really nasty divorce, from what I gleaned over the years, and now I remember all the shouting and threats. I was too young to understand what they were mad about; all I knew was that they were angry. So angry sometimes I thought they would kill each other. Anyway, my mom stopped taking me out to the lake until one day…she did. We were playing on the dock, and we ran out of sunscreen. My mom was really big on sunscreen—said it was the most important thing we could do for our skin. I didn’t want to stop playing to go with her, so she made me promise to stay put while she ran inside. She was supposed to be gone for only a few minutes.” Ava traced the rim of the mug with her finger, her eyes gaining that far-off quality that told me she was lost in her unearthed memories. “I did. I stayed put. Watched the fish, threw stones in the water—I loved the ripples they made. I waited for her to come back so we could play again. I’ve had nightmares about this day for as long as I could remember, so not all of this is new. I remembered her leaving, and I remembered her returning and me falling into the water. Only…” She drew in a deep breath. “I don’t

think she returned. I thought I smelled her perfume, but in my nightmares—my memories—I never got a good look at the face of the person who pushed me. It all happened so quickly. But when I was by the lake a few days ago…more memories returned, and I realized I’d seen more than I’d thought. Before I fell in the water, I saw a flash of gold. A signet ring. MC.” Dread and shock coiled at the base of my spine and flared their wings, enveloping me in their dark embrace. “Michael Chen.” Ava shook harder. “Alex, my mom didn’t try to kill me. My dad did.”

29 AVA I ’ . I heaved into the toilet, my stomach roiling, my skin drenched with sweat as Alex held my hair back and rubbed circles on my back. He was livid. Not at me, but at my father, my past, the entire situation. I could feel it in the tenseness of his hands and the aura of barely leashed violence that’d swirled around him since I confessed my memories. The day at the lake had only been the tip of the iceberg. I’d remembered something else—something that cemented my father’s guilt. “Daddy, look!” I ran into his office, brandishing the paper in my hands with pride. It was an essay I wrote for class on who we admired most. I wrote about Daddy. Mrs. James gave me an A plus on it, and I couldn’t wait to show him. “What is it, Ava?” He raised his eyebrows. “I got an A plus! Look!” He took the paper from me and skimmed it, but he didn’t look happy like I’d expected. My smile dimmed. Why was he frowning? Weren’t A’s good? He always praised Josh when he brought home A’s. “What’s this?” “It’s a paper about who I admire most?” I twisted my hands, growing more nervous. I wished Josh was here, but he was at his friend’s house. “I said you, because you saved me.” I didn’t remember him saving me, but that was what everyone told me. They said I fell into a lake a few years ago and would’ve died if Daddy hadn’t jumped in after me.

“I did, didn’t I?” He finally smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile. I suddenly didn’t want to be here anymore. “You look so much like your mother,” Daddy said. “A carbon copy of when she was your age.” I didn’t know what a carbon copy was, but based on his tone, it probably wasn’t a good thing. He stood, and I instinctively stepped back until my legs hit the couch. “Do you remember what happened at the lake when you were five, darling Ava?” He brushed his fingers over my cheek, and I flinched. I shook my head, too scared to speak. “That’s for the best. Makes things easier.” Daddy smiled another ugly smile. “I wonder if you’ll forget this too?” He picked up a throw pillow and pushed me onto the couch. I didn’t have time to respond before I lost the ability to breathe. The pillow pressed into my face, cutting off my oxygen supply. I tried to push it off, but I wasn’t strong enough. A strong hand locked my wrists together until I couldn’t struggle anymore. My chest tightened, and my vision flickered. No air. Noairnoairnoair— Not only had my father tried to drown me, he’d also tried to suffocate me. I retched again, and again, and again. I’d managed to stay calm for most of Thanksgiving weekend, but saying the words out loud—my father tried to kill me —must’ve triggered a delayed physical response. After I’d thrown up what must’ve been all the contents in my stomach, I sank onto the floor. Alex handed me a glass of water, and I downed it with long, grateful gulps. “I’m sorry,” I rasped. “This is so embarrassing. I’ll clean up—” “Don’t worry about it.” He ran a gentle hand over my hair, but an inferno raged in his eyes. “We’ll figure everything out. Leave it to me.” A WEEK LATER, Alex and I waited for my father to arrive in one of Archer Group’s conference rooms. It was my first time seeing

Alex’s workplace, and the building was exactly how I’d pictured it: sleek, modern, and beautiful, all glass and white marble. I couldn’t appreciate it, though. I was too nervous. The clock ticked on the wall, deafening in the silence. I drummed my fingers on the polished wood table and stared through the tinted glass windows, both willing and dreading my father’s appearance. “Security here is top-notch,” Alex reassured me. “And I’ll be by your side the entire time.” “That’s not what I’m worried about.” I had to press my other hand against my knee to keep it from bouncing. “I don’t think he would…” Physically hurt me? But he had. Or at least, he’d tried. The day he pushed me into the lake, and the day he suffocated me. And those were only the instances I remembered. I flashed back over the years, trying to remember anything else amiss. I thought he’d been a decent father during my teenage years. Not the most present or affectionate, but he hadn’t tried to kill me, which begged the question: why hadn’t he? There’d been plenty of opportunities, plenty of times when he could’ve made my death look like an accident. But that question paled in comparison to the biggest one of all, which was why he wanted to kill me in the first place. I was his daughter. A single broken sob erupted from my throat. Alex squeezed my hand, his brows drawn tight over his eyes, but I shook my head. “I’m okay,” I said, gathering the strength to pull myself together. I could do this. I wouldn’t break down. I wouldn’t. Even if my heart hurt so much I might combust. “I—” The door opened, and my words died in my throat. My father—Michael; I couldn’t think of him as my father anymore—walked in, looking confused and a little annoyed. He wore his favorite striped polo and jeans again, as well as that damn signet ring. I choked back bile. Beside me, Alex tensed, wrath radiating from him in dark, dangerous waves. “What’s going on?” Michael frowned. “Ava? Why did you ask me to come here?”

“Mr. Chen.” Alex’s voice seemed pleasant enough; only those who knew him could detect the lethal blade beneath his words, waiting to strike. “Please, take a seat.” He gestured at the leather chair on the other side of the table. Michael did, his expression growing more irritated. “I have work to do, and you made me come all the way to D.C. for a supposed emergency.” “I sent a car,” Alex said, still in that deceptively pleasant tone. “Your car or mine, it takes the same amount of time.” Michael’s eyes flicked between Alex and me before settling on me. “Don’t tell me you’re pregnant.” Confirmation he knew Alex and I had been an item at Thanksgiving. Not that I cared what he thought anymore. “No.” I raised my voice so I could hear it over my pounding pulse. “I’m not.” “Then what’s the emergency?” “I—” I faltered. Alex squeezed my hand again. “I—” I couldn’t say it. Not with an audience. Alex already knew everything, but what Michael and I had to discuss seemed too personal to air out in front of other people. It was between us. Father and daughter. Pinpricks of light danced before my vision. I dug the nails of my free hand into my thigh so hard I would’ve drawn blood had I not been wearing jeans. “Alex, can you let us have a moment alone, please?” His head whipped toward me, his expression thunderous. Please, I begged with my eyes. I need to do this on my own. Knowing how protective he was, I expected more resistance, but he must’ve seen something in my face—my unshakeable belief that I had to fight my own battles—because he released my hand and stood. Reluctantly, but he did it. “I’ll be right outside,” he said. A promise and a warning. Alex shot a dark look at Michael before he exited. And then there were two. “Ava?” Michael raised his eyebrows. “Are you in trouble?” Yes. I’d run through this conversation in my mind hundreds, if not thousands, of times before I stepped foot in this room. I’d labored over how to bring up the topic and how I’d react to his response,

whatever it may be. Oh hey, Dad, nice to see you. By the way, did you try to murder me? Yes? Oh damn, okay. But I couldn’t drag it out any longer. I needed answers before the questions killed me. “I’m not in trouble,” I said, proud of how steady I sounded. “But I have something to tell you about what happened over Thanksgiving weekend.” Wariness crept into his eyes. “Okay…” “I remembered.” “Remembered what?” “Everything.” I watched him closely for a reaction. “My childhood. The day I almost drowned.” Wariness morphed into shock and a faint tinge of panic. Deep grooves appeared in his forehead. My stomach dropped. I’d hoped I’d been wrong, but the wild look in Michael’s eyes told me all I needed to know—I wasn’t wrong. He really had tried to kill me. “Really?” His chuckle sounded forced. “Are you sure? You’ve been having nightmares for years—” “I’m sure.” I straightened my shoulders and looked him straight in the eye, trying to keep my trembles under control. “Were you the one who pushed me into the lake that day?” Michael’s face collapsed, the shock in his eyes tripling. “What?” he whispered. “You heard me.” “No, of course not!” He raked a hand through his graying hair, agitated. “How could you think that? I’m your father. I would never do anything to hurt you.” Hope whispered through my heart even as my brain shook its head in skepticism. “That’s what I remember.” “Memories can deceive. We remember things that didn’t actually happen.” Michael leaned forward, his face softening. “What exactly do you think happened?” I gnawed on my bottom lip. “I was playing by the lake. Someone came up behind me and pushed me. I remembered turning around and seeing a flash of gold. A signet ring. Your signet ring.” My gaze dropped to said ring on his finger. He glanced down and rubbed it. “Ava.” He sounded pained. “I was the one who saved you from drowning.”

That was the part that didn’t make sense. I’d passed out, so I hadn’t seen who’d saved me, but the paramedics and police said Michael had been the one who called them. Why would he do that if he was the one who pushed me in? “I came over to speak with your mother about the divorce, and no one answered the door even though her car was in the driveway. I went around back to see if she was out there, and I saw—” Michael swallowed hard. “It was the worst few minutes of my life, thinking you were dead. I jumped in and saved you, and all the while your mother…she just stood there in shock. Like she couldn’t believe what had happened.” His voice dropped. “Your mother wasn’t well, Ava. She didn’t mean to harm you, but sometimes she did things out of her control. She felt so guilty afterward, and between the divorce and criminal charges…that’s why she overdosed.” Pain ripped through my head. I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to sort through my father’s words and my own memories. What was real? What wasn’t? Memories were unreliable. I knew that. And Michael sounded sincere. But had I really been that off base? Where did those visions come from, if not my memories? “There’s another instance,” I said shakily. “Third grade. I brought home an essay from Mrs. James’s class and showed you. We were in your office. You looked at me and said I was a carbon copy of Mom and you…you pushed a pillow into my face and tried to suffocate me. I couldn’t breathe. I would’ve died, but Josh came home and called for you, and you stopped.” The story sounded ridiculous beneath the bright lights of the conference room. My head pounded harder. Alarm spread across Michael’s features. “Ava,” he said softly, calmly, like he didn’t want to spook me. “You never had a teacher named Mrs. James.” My heart crashed against my chest. “I did! She had blonde hair and glasses, and she gave us sugar cookies on our birthdays…” Tears prickled my eyes. “I swear, Mrs. James was real.” She had to be real. But what if she wasn’t? What if I’d made everything up and thought they were memories? What was wrong with me? Why was my brain so messed up? I couldn’t breathe. I felt crazy, like nothing in my life was real and I’d dreamed it all up. I pressed my palms into the table, half-

expecting it to dissolve in a shower of dust. “Honey…” He reached for me, but before he could touch me, the door banged open. “That’s enough. Stop lying.” Alex strode in, his face like thunder. Of course he had this place wired. “I had my people investigate after Ava told me what she remembered,” he said coldly. He did? He never told me that. “You’d be surprised how much—and how quickly—one can find out with the right amount of money. She did have a third-grade teacher named Mrs. James— one who reported suspicious bruising on Ava’s wrists when she came into class the next day. You claimed it was a playground injury, and they believed you.” Alex’s eyes burned with disgust. “You’re a good actor, but drop the mask. We’re onto you.” I stared at Michael. I didn’t know what to believe anymore. “Is that true? You were gaslighting me this whole time?” “Ava, I’m your father.” Michael rubbed a hand over his face, his eyes bright. “I would never lie to you.” I looked between him and Alex. My head pounded harder. There was too much going on, too many secrets to reveal. But in the end, I had to trust myself. “I think you would,” I said. “I think you’ve been lying to me my entire life.” Michael’s face remained anguished for several more seconds before it twisted and morphed into a hideous mask. His eyes gleamed with delighted malice, and his mouth spread into a mocking smile. He didn’t look like my father anymore. He didn’t look human at all. He looked like a monster straight from my nightmares. “Bravo.” He slow-clapped. “I almost had you,” he told me. “You should’ve seen yourself. I swear, Mrs. James was real, ” he mimicked, laughing. The ugly sound raised every hair on my body. “Classic. You really thought you were crazy.” I gave a subtle shake of my head when Alex moved toward Michael. I wanted to run and hide, but adrenaline pushed the words out of my mouth. “Why? I was a kid .” My chin wobbled. “I’m your daughter. Why would you do those things to me? Tell me the truth.” I tightened my jaw. “No. More. Lies.” “The truth is subjective.” Michael leaned back in his chair. “But you want to know so bad? Here’s my truth—you’re not really my daughter.” He flashed a humorless smile at my sharp intake of

breath. “That’s right. Your bitch of a mom cheated on me. Must’ve been one of those times I was away for business. She always complained I wasn’t around enough, like it wasn’t my fucking business that put the roof over her head and kept her nice and warm in designer clothes. I’d always suspected you weren’t mine —you look nothing like me, but I figured, hey, maybe you just have a strong resemblance to Wendy. I took a secret paternity test and lo-and-behold, you really aren’t mine. Your mother tried to deny it, but there wasn’t much she could do with the evidence staring her in the face.” His expression darkened. “Of course, we couldn’t mention that in the divorce proceedings. Those things always leak, and we would’ve both lost face.” There were few things worse than losing face in Chinese culture. Except, of course, trying to murder your daughter. “If I’m not your daughter, why did you fight so hard for custody?” I demanded, my tongue thick in my mouth. Michael’s lips curled into a sneer. “I didn’t fight for custody for you. I did it for Josh. He’s actually my son. Test confirmed it. My legacy, my heir. But since no one other than your mother and I knew you weren’t mine, you and Josh were a package deal. Unfortunately, courts almost always side with the mother except in extraordinary circumstances, so…” He shrugged. “I had to engineer an extraordinary circumstance.” I felt sick, but I stayed frozen while Michael unraveled the tangled web of our past. “I was lucky your mom was stupid enough to leave you alone. Honestly, that was negligence on its own. But I snuck into the house, intending to plant evidence of her ‘drug addiction’, and I found you playing by the lake instead. It was like God dropped the opportunity into my lap. Sometimes, courts side with the mother even if she’s a drug addict, but trying to drown her child? Guaranteed win for me. Not to mention, it’d be punishment for her. So I pushed you in. I was tempted to let you drown for real.” Another flash of teeth. “But I wasn’t that cold-hearted. You were just a kid. So I fished you out, told authorities I saw Wendy push you in. She kept screaming she didn’t do it, but you wanna know the real genius of my plan?” He leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. “You were the one who implicated your mother.” “No.” I shook my head. “I didn’t. I didn’t even see—I didn’t remember—”

“Not after. But in the moment?” He smirked. “It’s quite easy to implant false memories, especially in the mind of a confused, traumatized child. A few suggestions and leading questions from me, and you were convinced it was your mom. Said you smelled her perfume, plus she was the only person there. Either way, authorities had to investigate, and they gave me custody of you and Josh while they gathered evidence. Your mom became depressed and, well, you know what happened with the pills. It’s pretty poetic, actually. She died of the very thing I’d wanted to frame her for—at 4:44 a.m., no less. The unluckiest time.” My stomach lurched. 4:44 a.m. The time I awoke from my nightmares. I’ve never been a superstitious person, but I couldn’t help wondering if that had been my mom screaming at me from the other side, urging me to remember. To leave the sociopath whose house I’d been living in all these years. “What about that day in your office?” I asked, determined to see this through even though I wanted to throw up. Michael snorted. “Right. That stupid essay about how I ‘saved’ you. You know, I did a pretty good job of hiding how much I resented having to raise you, the ‘daughter’ who’s not even my own, all those years. I played the role of the quiet, awkward, grief- stricken father to a tee.” His ugly smile reappeared. “But sometimes, you push my limits, especially since you look so much like her. A living reminder of her infidelity. It would’ve been so easy if you were out of the picture, but Josh chose that moment to come home. Alas.” He lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “Can’t have it all. To be fair, the office incident was a moment of weakness on my part—you were very much aware of what was going on, and I would’ve had a helluva time explaining what happened, though I’m sure I would’ve come up with something. But imagine my pleasant surprise when you woke up with not only no recollection of the office, but no recollection of your entire childhood up to that point. Doctors couldn’t explain it, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was you forgot.” He smiled. “God really does smile on me, doesn’t he?” I felt Alex’s hands on my back. I hadn’t even noticed him approach. I leaned into the comfort of his touch while my mind spun. I remembered running to my room and locking the door after Michael released me and greeted Josh like nothing had

happened. I stayed there all night, refusing to eat dinner no matter how much Josh tried to persuade me to come out. He’d only been thirteen at the time—too young to help me—and I had no one else to turn to. I wondered if I’d been so panicked and traumatized that I’d blacked out all of my experiences with Michael, which was basically my entire childhood. “I couldn’t be sure I’d be as lucky again, though,” Michael continued. “So I left you alone after that. Even sent you to therapy because I had to play the part of the concerned father, but it was a good thing those incompetent idiots didn’t know what they were doing.” No wonder he’d been so adamant about stopping my therapy sessions. He must’ve been terrified I would remember and implicate him. Which begged the question…why the hell was he so willing to tell me all of this now? It was like Alex read my mind. “There’s no statute of limitations for attempted murder, and this entire conversation is recorded,” he said. “D.C. has a one-party consent law for recordings, and Ava —” He gestured at me. “Consented beforehand. You’re going to jail for a long, long time.” Michael’s mask of malice melted, leaving behind the “father” who took me on college visits and planned my birthday parties again. It was terrifying how easily he switched between the two. “If I have to go to jail to save her, I will,” he whispered. He turned to me, his eyes shining with actual tears. “Ava, honey, Alex is not who you think he is. His driver picked me up, and on the way here, he threatened me—” “Enough,” Alex hissed. “No more gaslighting her. You’re done, and my friends would agree.” I watched in shock as two FBI agents burst into the room and hauled Michael out of his chair. Alex hadn’t mentioned the FBI when we’d planned this. “This won’t hold up in court,” Michael said, sounding quite calm for someone entering federal custody. “I’ll fight it. You won’t win.” “With what money?” Alex raised his eyebrows. “You see, my people found some interesting things about your business during their digging as well. Interesting, illegal things. Tax evasion. Corporate fraud. Ring any bells?”

For the first time since he arrived, Michael’s composure slipped. “You’re lying,” he hissed. “You had no authority—” “Au contraire, I worked with the FBI on that part. My friends at the agency were quite interested in what I had to say, and what they found.” Alex smiled. “You can use your untainted assets to hire an attorney, but most of your assets are tainted and will be frozen before your trial. You’ll receive the official notice before the end of today.” “Josh will never forgive you for this.” Michael’s eyes burned. “He worships me. Who do you think he’ll believe? Me, his father, or you, a punk he met a few years ago?” “In this case, Father—” Josh walked in, his face darker than I’d ever seen it. “I think I’ll believe ‘the punk’.” He slammed his fist into Michael’s face, and all hell broke loose.

30 AVA S , J I of a restaurant near The Archer Group. Alex had booked the entire place and dismissed most of the staff. Other than a waiter who hovered by the entrance, out of earshot, we were the only ones here. Alex, too, had retreated to his office to give us more privacy. “I’m so sorry, Ave.” Josh looked terrible. Lackluster complexion, huge bags beneath his eyes. Stress and worry carved deep grooves in his face, and his usual cocky, charming grin was nowhere to be seen. “I should’ve known. I should’ve—” “It’s not your fault. Dad—Michael—fooled all of us.” I shuddered, thinking about how well Michael had played his role. “Besides, he loved you. He treated you perfectly. You wouldn’t have noticed anything.” Josh’s lips thinned. “He didn’t love me. People like him can’t love. He saw me as a…vessel to continue his legacy. Nothing else.” Alex and I had contacted Josh and told him what I remembered a few days ago. He’d been shocked, but he’d believed me. He’d also insisted on flying back for the confrontation and received emergency leave from his program to do so. He’d watched and listened to the conversation via the conference room’s secret cameras the entire time, and Alex’s security team had had to restrain him so he didn’t burst in too early. I could only imagine. Josh was nothing if not hot-tempered. After he punched Michael, the situation had devolved into chaos, with the FBI agents, Josh, Michael, and various security guards grappling with each other. Josh would have beaten the hell

out of our—his—father, had Alex not finally pulled him back. The FBI agents hauled a bruised and bleeding Michael into custody, and now we awaited his trial. Thanks to Alex, whose friend’s father was apparently high up in the FBI, Josh didn’t get charged with assault for attacking Michael. The entire situation felt surreal. “Either way, it wasn’t your fault,” I repeated. “You were just a kid too.” “If I’d been there that day in his office…” “Stop it. Do you hear me, Josh Chen?” I said sternly. “I will not let you blame yourself. Mom and Michael were adults. They made their own choices.” I swallowed, feeling guilty about my suppressed rage toward my mother over the years when, in fact, she’d been a victim too. “You’ve always been there when I needed you, and you are an amazing brother. I’ll only say that once, so don’t ask me to repeat it. Your ego doesn’t need more inflation.” He cracked a small smile. “Are you going to be okay?” I took a deep breath. The past two weeks had been…a lot. The revelations, the mind fucks, the sinking realization that I was practically an orphan. My mother was dead, my father wasn’t my real father—and would probably be locked up for a long time— and I had no clue who my actual father was. But at least I knew the truth, and I had Josh, Alex, and my friends. Maybe the import of what happened would hit me later, but for now, all I felt was relief mingled with sadness and lingering shock. “Yeah,” I said. “I will.” Josh must’ve heard my conviction, because his shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit. “If you need to talk or anything, I’m here. Can’t guarantee I’ll give good advice, but I’ll be a sounding board or whatever.” I smiled. “Thanks, Joshy.” He made a face at his hated nickname. “How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t call me that.” We spent the next half hour talking about lighter topics—his time in Central America, what D.C. luxuries he’d indulge in before he returned to his volunteer program, and his now-dead relationship with the girl he’d told me about. Apparently, he’d ended things immediately after she brought up marriage. Typical Josh.

As annoying as he was, I had missed him, and I would be sad to see him leave. He was coming home for Christmas, but he couldn’t take the entire period between now and then off, so he was leaving tomorrow and flying back in two weeks. However, we still had one elephant in the room we needed to discuss. “Now that we got all the small stuff out of the way…” A scowl overtook Josh’s face. “You and Alex. What. The. Fuck?” I cringed. “We didn’t plan it, I promise. It just sort of… happened.” “You just ‘happened’ to fall into bed with my best friend?” “Don’t be mad.” “I’m not mad at you,” Josh snapped. “I’m mad at him. He should’ve known better!” “And I don’t know better?” “You know what I mean. You’re a romantic. I can see you falling for that broody asshole thing he has going on. But Alex… Jesus Christ, Ave.” Josh rubbed a hand over his face. “He’s my best friend, but even I shudder at the things he does. In all the years I’ve known him, he’s never once been in a relationship. Never shown an interest in it. He cares about work, and that’s it.” “Yes, he can be an asshole sometimes, but he’s still human. He needs love and care like anyone else,” I said, feeling protective of Alex even though he was the last person on earth who needed protection. “As for the relationship part, there’s a first time for everything. He’s been…” I swallowed hard. “You have no idea how much he’s helped me these past few months. He was there for everything. The nightmares, the panic attacks…he taught me how to swim. Swim, Josh. He helped me get over my fear of water, at least a little bit, and he was so patient the entire time. But beyond how much he’s helped me, he’s smart and funny and wonderful. He makes me laugh and believe in myself, more than anyone else ever has. And he may not show it to the world, but he does have a heart. A beautiful one.” I cut myself off before I rambled further, my cheeks a deep, bright red. Josh stared at me, shock stamped on every inch of his face. “Ava,” he said. “Do you...love him?” A lot of things in my life had been hazy up to this point, but my feelings about this were clear. I didn’t hesitate before answering.

“Yes.” I may not know what was in my mind, but I knew what was in my heart. “I do.” JOSH LEFT the next morning after threatening to kill Alex if he ever broke my heart. He was still uncomfortable with our relationship, but he’d grudgingly accepted it after he saw how much I cared about Alex. Alex had urgent business to take care of after he dropped Josh off at the airport, so I spent the rest of the day with my girls. Since it was drizzling and I wasn’t up for going out, we had an at-home spa day, complete with DIY facials, mani-pedis, and a marathon of feel-good movies. I’d told them what had happened with Michael. They’d been stunned, but none of them pressed me on it, for which I was grateful. It had been a heavy twenty-four hours, and I needed lighthearted downtime. Stella checked her phone before pushing it away with an uncharacteristic frown. “Is it that creep again?” Jules asked, blowing on her freshly polished gold nails. Some random guy had been messaging Stella nonstop for the past two weeks, and it was making her nervous. As an influencer, she received her fair share of unsolicited DMs from creepy guys, but this one put her on edge more than normal. “Yeah. I blocked him, but he keeps making new accounts.” Stella sighed. “That’s the sucky part about being a semi-public figure.” “Be careful.” A shadow of worry crossed Bridget’s face. “There are crazy people out there.” Rhys, who kept watch from the armchair, snorted, no doubt because that was what he always told her—and she always ignored him, like she did now. Bridget refused to look at him as she lowered the volume on Mean Girls. That must’ve been the thousandth time we’d watched it, but it never got old. Regina George was iconic. “I will. He’s likely another Internet weirdo.” Stella made a face. “That’s why I never post my Stories until after I’ve left a place.”

I couldn’t imagine documenting my life online the way Stella did. I worried for both her physical safety and mental health sometimes, but she’d handled it well so far. Maybe I was just being a worrywart. Someone knocked on the door. “I’ll get it.” Rhys unfolded himself to his full six feet, five inches. Seriously, the man was enormous. He probably wore custom- made clothes because no way would an off-the-rack shirt fit those big shoulders and broad chest. “Look at that ass.” Jules sighed. “Talk about a tight end.” “Stop objectifying him. That’s Bridget’s bodyguard, ” I said, nudging her in the ribs. “Exactly. Bodyguards are hot. Don’t you think so, Bridge?” “No,” Bridget said flatly. “You guys are no fun.” Jules twisted her red hair into a messy topknot. “Ooh, look who comes bearing gifts.” My stomach fluttered when Alex walked in with Rhys on his heels. He carried a distinctive black-and-white striped box. “Cake?” Stella perked up. She’d warmed up to Alex over the past month after seeing he was “capable of human emotion after all.” “Cupcakes,” Alex confirmed, setting the goodies on the table. My friends dove for the box like treasure hunters diving for gold. I smiled and tilted my head up so I could kiss him. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” “It’s just cupcakes.” He returned my kiss before sitting next to me and curling a protective arm around my waist. “Figured you could use the sugar rush.” I peeled the wrapper away from my red velvet cupcake with a small frown. It would take a long time to get over what Michael did. I wasn’t sure I would ever get over what Michael did. My entire life was a lie. Sometimes, I’d lie awake at night, so anxious I couldn’t sleep or think straight. Other times, like now, I’d look around me and comfort myself with the knowledge that I would be all right. That old saying was true: what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I’d almost died twice in my life—that I knew of—and I was still standing. I’d continue to stand tall, long after Michael rotted in jail.

Thanks to a nudge from Alex, who knew half the judges in this town, Michael was locked up with no bail until his court date. He’d sent a message asking me to see him, but I refused. I had nothing left to say to him. He’d shown me his real face, and I would be happy if I never saw it again for the rest of my life. But yeah, sometimes a girl needed a cupcake or two to get her through the rainy days. Part of me was grateful Michael and I had never been close. If we had, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to take the heartbreak. That was why I worried about Josh, who was his real son and who’d had a much closer relationship with him. But Josh insisted he was fine, and there was no arguing with him. He was even more stubborn than me. We ate in silence for a while before Stella cleared her throat. “Um, thanks for the treat, but I should head out. I have a brand collab I need to shoot.” “Me, too,” Bridget added, picking up on Stella’s cue. “I have a political theory paper to write.” After Stella, Bridget, and Rhys beat a hasty retreat, Jules announced she had a date tonight and needed to get ready. She swept up the stairs, taking half the remaining cupcakes with her. “You know how to clear a room,” I teased, running an absentminded hand down Alex’s arm. What would I do without him? Not only had he helped me confront my father—I mean, Michael—but he was helping me deal with the aftermath, including all the financial and legal webs I was now tangled up in. Most of Michael’s assets had been frozen, but luckily, he’d already paid my tuition for the year, and I had a steady income from my job and side gig. The commission I received for selling the Richard Argus piece to Alex helped too. Josh, who’d received a full-ride scholarship plus living stipend for the duration of med school, was also set money-wise. At least that was one less thing we had to worry about. “It’s one of my many talents.” Alex captured my mouth in a searing kiss, and I melted into him, letting his tongue and taste and touch carry me away to a land where my troubles didn’t exist. God, I loved this man, and he didn’t even know it. Not yet. My pulse thundered in my ears when we pulled apart. “Alex…” “Hmm?” He brushed his fingers over my skin, his gaze still locked on my mouth.

“I have something to tell you. I—” Tell him. It’s now or never. “I love you,” I whispered, my heart beating fast, my confession a breathless rush. A beat passed, followed by a second. Third. Alex’s hand stilled, his expression fierce and strangely haunted. A wisp of unease niggled at my stomach. “You don’t mean that.” “Yes, I do,” I said, hurt and a little angry at his reaction. “I know what I feel.” “I’m not an easy person to love.” “Good thing I never cared much about taking the easy road.” I sat up straight and looked him straight in the eyes. “You are cold and infuriating and, I admit, a little scary. But you are also patient and supportive and brilliant. You inspire me to chase my dreams and drive away my nightmares. You are everything I didn’t know I needed, and you make me feel safer than anyone else on the planet.” I took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say—again—is, I love you, Alex Volkov. Every part of you, even the parts I want to slap.” A smile ghosted his mouth. “That was quite the speech.” The smile faded as quickly as it had come, and he dropped his forehead to mine, his breath ragged. “You are the light to my dark, Sunshine,” he said in a raw voice. His lips brushed against mine as he spoke. “Without you, I’m lost.” Our kiss was even deeper this time, more urgent, but his response played on a loop in the back of my mind. You are the light to my dark. Without you, I’m lost. Beautiful words that made my heart pound…but I couldn’t help noticing none of them were “I love you too.”

31 ALEX T , lined with northern red oak trees, their branches bare and brown in the harsh cold of winter, and the large brick mansion looming in the distance. My uncle’s house—my house as well, before I’d moved to D.C. —stood behind a virtual fortress on the outskirts of Philadelphia, and that was the way he liked it. I hadn’t wanted to leave Ava so soon after the shitshow with Michael, but I’d put off this meeting with my uncle long enough. I found him in his office, smoking and watching a Russian drama on the flat-screen TV hanging in the corner. I never understood why he insisted on watching TV in here when he had a perfectly good den. “Alex.” He blew a smoke ring in the air. A half-empty cup of green tea sat before him. He’d been obsessed with the drink ever since he read an article that said it helped with weight loss. “To what do I owe this surprise?” “You know why I’m here.” I sank into the overstuffed chair opposite Ivan and picked up the ugly gold paperweight on his desk. It looked like a deformed monkey. “Ah, yes. I heard. Checkmate.” My uncle smiled. “Congratulations. Though I have to admit, it was a bit anticlimactic. I’d expected your final move to go off with more of a…bang.” My jaw tightened. “The situation changed, and I had to adapt.” Ivan’s gaze turned knowing. “And what about the situation changed?” I stayed silent.

I’d labored over my revenge plan for more than a decade, moving and manipulating every piece until I had them where I wanted them. Always play the long game. But even I had to admit I’d gotten…distracted these past few months. Ava had swept into my life like a sunrise after dark, awakening creatures within my soul that I thought had died a long time ago: guilt. Conscience. Remorse. Making me question whether the ends justified the means. Around her, my thirst for vengeance slaked, and I almost— almost—gave it up, if only so I could pretend to be the man she thought I was. You have a multilayered heart, Alex. A heart of gold encased in a heart of ice. The sharp edges of the paperweight dug into my palm. Ava knew I’d committed my fair share of unsavory deeds for Archer Group, but that was business. She didn’t condone it or endorse it, but she wasn’t naïve, either. For all her romantic notions and soft heart, she’d grown up near the D.C. viper pit and understood that in certain situations—whether it be business or politics—it was eat or be eaten. But if she found out the lengths to which I’d gone in order to wreak havoc on those responsible for my family’s death—no matter how much they deserved it—she would never forgive me. There are some lines you never cross. A tiny well of blood blossomed on my hand. I released the paperweight, wiped the blood off on my conveniently dark pants, and set it back on the table. “Don’t worry about it, Uncle.” I kept my face and posture relaxed. I didn’t want him finding out how much Ava had burrowed inside my heart. My uncle had never been in love, had never married or fathered children of his own, and he wouldn’t understand my dilemma. For him, wealth, power, and status were all that mattered. “Ah, but I do worry.” Ivan puffed on his cigarette with a small frown. He’d slicked his hair back and wore a suit and tie even though he was alone in his office, watching a stupid drama about Cold War spies. He was always conscious of his appearance, even when there was no one else around. He switched from English to Ukrainian for the next part of our conversation. “You have not been acting like yourself. You’ve been distracted.

Unfocused. Carolina mentioned you only go into the office a few days a week, and you leave before seven each time.” I tamped down my flare of irritation. “My assistant shouldn’t be blabbing about my schedule to others.” “I’m the CEO, so she didn’t have much choice.” Ivan stubbed out his cigarette and leaned forward, his eyes intense. “Tell me about Ava.” Tension rocketed down my spine at the sound of her name on his lips. I didn’t have to ask how he knew about her—I wasn’t the only one with spies everywhere. “There’s nothing to tell. She’s a good lay,” I said, the words poison on my tongue. “That’s it.” “Hmm.” My uncle looked skeptical. “So, your revenge. That’s it?” He switched topics so abruptly it took me half a second longer than usual to respond. “No.” I wasn’t done with the man I’d destroyed. Not yet. “There’s more.” I had one final ace up my sleeve. I wanted to take everything from the man who’d taken everything from me. His business, his family, his life. And I did. I would. But was it worth it? “Good. I thought you’d gone soft.” Ivan sighed and stared at the framed picture on his desk of him and my father when they were young. They’d just moved to the U.S., and they both wore cheap, happy suits and matching hats. While my uncle looked stern and serious, my father’s eyes twinkled like he was in on a grand secret no one else knew. My throat squeezed at the sight. “Never forget what happened to your parents and poor little Nina. They deserve all the justice in the world.” As if I would ever forget. Even if I didn’t have HSAM, the scene would forever be engraved in my mind. “Don’t cheat!” I yelled over my shoulder as I ran to the bathroom. I’d had two apple juices this morning, and I was about to burst. “I’ll know.” “You’re losing, anyway!” my little sister Nina yelled back, causing my parents to chuckle. I stuck my tongue out at her before slamming the bathroom door behind me. I was annoyed I’d never beaten Nina at Scrabble for Kids, even though she was two years younger than me and I had a “genius” IQ, according to my teachers and parents. She’d

always been good at words. Mama said she’d probably grow up to be a writer. I used the toilet and washed my hands. I was supposed to be at a special camp for gifted children this summer, but camp was so boring. All the activities were too easy; the only one I’d liked was chess, but I could play that anywhere. I complained to my parents, who pulled me out yesterday and brought me home. I was drying my hands when I heard a loud bang in the distance, followed by shouts. I ran back to the living room, where I found my parents ushering Nina toward the secret passageway behind the fireplace. That was one thing I loved about our house—it was full of secret passageways and hidden corners. Nina and I had spent countless hours exploring every nook and cranny; it made hide and seek more exciting, that was for sure. “Alex, get in there. Quick!” Mama’s face was tight with panic. She grabbed my arm, more roughly than she ever had before, and pushed me into the darkness. “What’s going on? Who’s here?” My heart beat a fast rhythm. I heard strange voices, and they were getting closer. Nina cowered in the passageway, clutching her beloved cat, Smudges, to her chest. We’d stumbled on the stray one day during a family picnic in the park, and she cried and begged until my parents agreed to let her keep it as a pet. “It’ll be okay.” Papa had a gun in his hand. He always kept one in the house, but I’d never seen him use it. The sight of that shiny black metal glinting beneath the lights made my blood run cold. “Get in there with your sister and mother, and don’t make a sound. Everything will be fine—Lucia, what are you doing?” Mama swung the passageway shut while Nina and I stared with wide eyes. “I’m not leaving you out here alone,” she said fiercely. “Dammit, Lucy. You have to—” The sound of a vase crashing to the floor interrupted Papa and startled Smudges, who yowled and broke free of Nina’s arms. He darted through the narrowing gap between the wall and passageway door. “Smudges!” Nina yelled, scrambling after him.

I tried to grab her, but she wriggled out of my grasp and chased after him. “Nina, no,” I whisper-yelled, but it was too late. She was gone, and the door shut, enveloping me in darkness. I sat there, my blood roaring in my ears while my eyes tried to adjust to the dark. Mama and Papa put me in here for a reason, and I didn’t want to worry them by leaving. But I also needed to know what was going on, even though something screamed at me to turn away, to cover my eyes and hide. I was hiding, but I wouldn’t cover my eyes. The fireplace passageway had a peephole disguised as the eyes in a painting that hung above the mantel. I was a little too short, but if I stood on tiptoes and really stretched, I could look out into the living room. What I saw made my blood run cold. There were two strange men in the living room. They wore ski masks and carried guns—bigger than the one Papa had, which now lay at his feet. One of those guns pointed at Papa, the other at Mama and Nina. Mama covered Nina protectively while my sister cried and hugged Smudges tight. The cat was freaking out and yowling at the top of its lungs. “Shut that damn thing up,” one of the men growled. “Or I’ll do it for you.” Nina cried harder. “Take whatever you want,” Papa said, his face pale. “Just don’t hurt my family.” “Oh, we’ll take whatever we want,” the second man. “Unfortunately, I can’t guarantee the second part. In fact, let’s make this quick, shall we? No use dragging out the inevitable. We don’t get paid by the hour, y’know.” A gunshot rang out. Somewhere, Mama and Nina screamed. I should’ve screamed too, but I didn’t. I could only watch, eyes wide and frozen, legs burning from how long and hard I stood on tiptoes, as a bright red stain blossomed on Papa’s chest. He staggered, his mouth moving but forming no words. Perhaps he would’ve survived one shot, but then another gunshot rang out, and another, and another, until Papa’s big, strong body thudded to the ground. It lay there, still and unmoving. “It,” not “he.” Because the corpse wasn’t my Papa. It had his face and hair and skin, but Papa was gone. I’d seen him leave,

the light fading from his eyes. “No!” Mama wailed. She crawled toward Papa, but she only made it halfway before her body jerked and her mouth fell open. She, too, collapsed, her blood staining the floors. “Damn, what d’you do that for?” the first man complained. “I wanted to have some fun with her first.” “Bitch was getting on my nerves. Can’t stand all the wailing, and we’re here for a job, not your dick,” the second man growled. The first man scowled but didn’t argue. The pair stared at Nina, who cried so hard her face turned bright red and her body shook from the force of her sobs. Smudges hissed at the men, its eyes glowing ferociously in its tiny face. It was a kitten, but in that moment, it had all the trappings of a lion. “Too young,” the first man said in disgust. The second man ignored him. “Sorry, kiddo,” he told Nina. “Nothing personal. Your bad luck for being born into this family.” My blood roared and roared. Liquid dripped down my wrist, and I realized I’d dug my nails into my palms so hard I was bleeding. Drip. Drip. Drip. Each drip sounded like a sonic boom in the dark, cramped space. Could they hear it? Could they hear me, crouched behind the fireplace like a coward while they murdered my family? I wanted to run out. I wanted to jump on the men and kick and claw. I wanted to bash their heads in with the heavy sculpture on the fireplace mantel and strip the flesh from their bones piece by piece until they begged for death. It was the first time I’d had such violent thoughts. Mama was sweet and loving, and Papa was tough but fair. Honorable. They had raised Nina and me to be the same. But after seeing what those men did, I wanted to torture them slowly. Endlessly. Except I couldn’t. If I went out there, they would kill me too, and there would be no vengeance. No justice. Drip. Drip. Dripdripdrip. I bled faster. I couldn’t look away as the second man raised his gun again and fired. One shot. That was all it took.

Smudges went berserk. He flew at the men, hissing and clawing. One of them cursed and tried to kick him, but he dodged just in time. “Forget about the damn cat,” the second man snapped. “Let’s finish the job and get outta here.” “I fucking hate animals,” the first man muttered in disgust. “Hey, didn’t he say there was another kid? Where’s the little snot?” “Not here.” His partner glanced around, his eyes flickering past the fireplace and settling on the small, fancy jade statue on a side table. “At camp or something.” “Shit, I’ve never been to camp. You ever been to camp? I’ve always wanted—” “Shut. Up.” They swept through the living room, pilfering the most valuable items and putting their filthy hands all over my family belongings before they finally left and silence fell. My breath rasped in the quiet. I waited and waited. When I was sure they wouldn’t come back, I pushed open the heavy passageway door, my face reddening from the effort, and stumbled toward the bodies in the living room. Mama. Papa. Nina. I should call the police. I also knew I shouldn’t disturb the crime scene, but this was my family. This was the last chance I’d ever have to hold them. So I did. My breathing slowed, my head cleared. I should feel angry. I should feel sad. I should feel something. But I didn’t. I didn’t feel anything at all. The clawing pressure around my neck tightened. I couldn’t protect them. The people I’d loved most in the world, and I’d been useless. Helpless. A coward. I could take revenge all I wanted, but it wouldn’t change the fact that they were gone and I was here. Me, the most fucked-up one. If there was ever proof that the universe had a sick sense of humor, this was it. “I have to go,” my uncle said, smoothing his hand over his tie. “I’m meeting an old friend. Are you staying for the weekend?” I blinked away my memories and nodded.

“Excellent. We’ll play chess when I get back, hmm?” My uncle was the only person who could hold his own against me in chess. “Of course.” I rubbed my thumb over the wound on my hand. “Looking forward to it.” AFTER MY UNCLE LEFT, I spent an hour in the home gym working off my frustrations, but something niggled at me. Something Ivan said and the way he’d said it… I’m the CEO, so she didn’t have much choice. Why the hell was my uncle checking in on me, and why did he want to know my schedule so bad he’d threaten Carolina for the information? She was a good assistant, and she wouldn’t divulge the information unless she had to. I turned off the shower and dried myself, my mind running through the possibilities. I hadn’t gotten this far in life without listening to my instincts, so I got dressed, pulled on a pair of leather gloves, and returned to my uncle’s office. He had hidden security cameras in there, but the top-of-the-line jammer I’d bought off the black market took care of them in no time. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but after an hour of searching—including for false drawers and secret compartments —I didn’t find it. Same went for his bedroom. Perhaps I was being paranoid. My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since my coffee and bagel at breakfast. It was now near sunset. I gave up on my uncle’s private quarters and walked toward the kitchen. Ivan had hired a housekeeper who came by twice a week to clean up, but otherwise, he had no staff; he was too paranoid about corporate spies, whom he claimed could pop up anywhere. Don’t trust anyone, Alex . It’s always the people you least expect who’ll stab you in the back. At the last minute, I veered toward the library, my uncle’s favorite room in the house. The soaring, two-story room looked like something out of an English manor, with its Tiffany stained glass lamps and wall of mahogany shelves groaning beneath the weight of leather-bound tomes. Soft Oriental rugs muffled the

sound of my footsteps as I walked around the room, examining the shelves. I hoped whatever I was looking for wasn’t hidden in a fake book—there were thousands of books in here. Knowing my uncle, though, he wouldn’t choose any book. He’d choose something with significance. I checked the sections for his favorite authors. Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Taras Shevchenko, Leo Tolstoy, Alexander Dovzhenko…he had a soft spot for Russian and Ukrainian classics. Said they grounded him in his roots. But no, all the books were real. My eyes flitted over the rest of the library and landed on the limited-edition chess set in the corner. The pieces were still arranged in the same pattern from our last game. While I examined the set and the surrounding area for anything that could give credence to my suspicions, I knocked against the table, and a pawn tumbled to the floor. I cursed under my breath and bent to pick it up. As I did, my eyes snagged on the outlet beneath the table. It was a simple, ordinary outlet, except… My gaze traveled to the left. There was another outlet, less than a foot away. The U.S. National Electrical Code stipulated outlets must be positioned no more than six feet apart measured along the floor line, but it was rare to see two so close together. I paused, listening for any noises—the purr of my uncle’s Mercedes pulling into the driveway, the thud of his footsteps against the parquet floors. Nothing. I fished a heavy-duty paper clip from the library’s writing desk and crawled under the chess table, bending the clip until it was straight. I jiggled the screw in the middle of the outlet, feeling ridiculous, but my instincts screamed at me to continue. Just when I was about to give up, the outlet popped open, revealing a stash of papers in the wall. Fake outlet. Of course. My heart thudded as I reached for the papers—right as an engine roared in the distance. My uncle was home. I unfolded the documents—letters, written in two familiar sets of handwriting.

I speed-read them, unable to believe my eyes. I’d expected corporate politics. Boardroom foul play. I wouldn’t have been surprised if my uncle tried to hold on to his CEO position, even though I was supposed to take over soon. But this ? This, I never saw coming. The puzzle pieces in my brain clicked into place, and a strange cocktail of betrayal, fury, and relief knotted in my gut. Betrayal and fury over the revelation; relief that— The front door banged open. Footsteps, coming closer. I shoved the letters into the wall, folding them the way I’d found them, and screwed the outlet cover back on. I crawled out from beneath the table, placed the pawn in the same position it’d been in before I knocked it over, and pocketed both the paper clip and my gloves, which were sleek enough that they didn’t create a visible bulge in my pants. I plucked The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexander Dumas— one of my favorite books—off the shelf on my way to the door. “Alex,” my uncle said when he saw me in the hall. He chuckled. “Dumas again? You can’t get enough of that book.” I smiled. “No, I can’t.” All the while, my blood raged.