Collision Course

"You're going to accept the partnership."

I said it like a statement, not a question, because I knew June well enough to know that when Victor Harrow asked for something, you didn't say no.

June's fingers drummed against his desk. Once. Twice. Three times. The same rhythm he used right before he fired someone.

"Do I have a choice?" His voice was quiet.

"Sir—"

"He's sleeping with Kerry." June turned to look at me, and the expression on his face made my throat tight. It wasn't anger. It was something worse. Something painful. "The man Victor wants me to partner with is the same man who's been—" He stopped. Swallowed. "And I'm supposed to shake his hand? Smile? Pretend I don't want to—"

"You don't know that for sure," I lied.

Liar liar liar.

"You saw them kiss."

"That doesn't mean—"

"Don't." He held up a hand. "Don't insult my intelligence, Anella. I pay you for honesty, not comfort."

I bit down on the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste copper. June Jeremy was a lot of things, but stupid wasn't one of them. He'd built his father's company into something three times its original size by the time he was thirty. He could smell a lie from across the room.

But he was also blind when it came to Kerry.

He'd proposed to her six months ago at some art exhibition I'd had to organize, got down on one knee in front of half of New Greenland's elite, and she'd said yes with tears in her eyes that I knew—knew—were fake. I'd watched her face when she thought no one was looking, seen the way her smile dropped the second the cameras turned away.

Kerry Showers didn't love June Jeremy.

She loved his last name.

And apparently, she also loved Foxe Shield.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked carefully.

June was quiet for a long moment, staring down at the file in his hands like it personally offended him. Then he closed it, set it on his desk, and straightened his tie. "Set up a meeting. Tomorrow. 10 AM. Conference room A."

"Sir—"

"And Anella?" He looked at me, and I hated the way his expression had smoothed over into something blank and professional. "You're going to be there. I want you taking notes on everything. His body language. His tone. The way he looks at Kerry when she walks in."

My stomach dropped. "You're inviting Kerry?"

"She's my fiancée. It would be strange if she wasn't there." His smile was sharp enough to cut. "Besides, I want to see how he acts around her in front of me."

This is a disaster. This is a complete and total disaster.

"Of course, sir."

I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me at the door.

"Anella."

I looked back.

"Thank you. For doing this." He paused. "I know it's not part of your job description."

No. It's really, really not.

"It's fine," I said.

It wasn't fine.

Nothing about this was fine.

I made it back to my desk and lasted exactly four minutes before I grabbed my phone and texted Melly.

Me: i'm having a crisis

Melly: what else is new

Me: the guy Kerry's cheating with? turns out he's June's new business partner

Melly: ………

Melly: WHAT

Melly: anella are you KIDDING me right now

Me: i wish i was

Melly: this is like. a soap opera. this is ACTUAL soap opera levels of drama

Me: tell me about it

Melly: so what are you gonna do???

I stared at my phone, fingers hanging over the keyboard, and realized I had absolutely no idea.

Before I could answer, my office door opened.

Kerry Showers walked in like she owned the place—which, technically, she kind of did, considering she was going to marry the man who actually owned it. She was wearing head-to-toe Valentino, her blonde hair pulled into a ponytail so tight it looked painful, and her smile was the kind that didn't reach her eyes. It never did. 

"Anella." She said my name like it tasted bad. "Is June available?"

I plastered on my work smile. "He's in a meeting right now, Miss Showers. Can I help you with something?"

"I'm sure you can." She perched on the edge of my desk, crossing her legs in a way that was probably supposed to look elegant but mostly just looked condescending. "I heard June's taking on a new partner."

How does she already know that?

"I'm not at liberty to discuss—"

"Foxe Shield." She studied her nails. "Victor Harrow’s been raving about him for months. Apparently, he's very… impressive."

The way she said impressive made my skin crawl.

"I wouldn't know," I said flatly.

"Wouldn't you?" Kerry's eyes snapped to mine, and there was something sharp underneath all that porcelain perfection. "You've been spending a lot of time running errands for June lately. Late nights. Early mornings. People talk, Anella."

My jaw tightened. "If you have something to say—"

"I'm just saying." She stood, smoothing down her skirt. "It would be a shame if people got the wrong idea. About you and June."

Oh.

So that's what this was about.

Kerry Showers thought I was trying to seduce her fiancé.

The irony was so thick I could've choked on it.

"Miss Showers," I said, keeping my voice level, "I can assure you that my relationship with June is strictly professional."

"Of course it is." Her smile was poison. "Just like mine with Foxe will be."

And then she turned and walked into June's office without knocking.

I sat there, hands shaking, staring at the door she'd just disappeared through.

She knows I know.

She had to. Why else would she mention Foxe's name like that? Why else would she look at me like she wanted to see me buried six feet under?

My phone buzzed.

Melly: hello??? anella you can't just drop a bomb like that and then GHOST ME

Me: Kerry just threatened me

Melly: WHAT

Me: subtly. but yeah. she definitely knows something's up

Melly: babe you need to GET OUT of this situation

Me: i need the money

Melly: you also need to NOT DIE

I almost laughed. Almost.

Me: i'll be fine. probably.

Melly: that's not reassuring

Me: gotta go. shift starting?

Melly: yeah. night shift at the hospital. pray for me

Melly: also please don't do anything stupid

Me: no promises

I shoved my phone in my bag, grabbed my coat, and decided I was done with this day.

®®®

The thing about New Greenland in February was that it got dark stupid early. By the time I made it out of the office, the sun was already setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that would've been pretty if I wasn't so exhausted I could barely see straight.

My scooter was parked in the alley behind the building—a beat-up little Vespa knockoff I'd bought off some guy on Craigslist three years ago. It made a horrifying rattling noise every time I hit twenty miles per hour, but it was mine, and it got me where I needed to go.

I swung my leg over, pulled on my helmet, and was about to start the engine when my phone buzzed again.

Melly: btw how's Jericho doing?

My chest tightened.

Jericho.

My little brother who wasn't so little anymore; twenty-three years old and stuck in a hospital bed two cities away because I couldn't afford to bring him closer. The accident had happened two years ago, some drunk driver who'd run a red light and T-boned Jericho's car so hard it flipped three times. He'd survived. Barely. But his spine hadn't.

The experimental surgery he needed cost more than I made in three years.

Which was why I was doing this. All of this.

Spying on my boss's fiancée, letting some stranger blackmail me, pretending I didn't want to scream every time June looked at me like I was supposed to have all the answers.

Because Jericho needed me.

And I wasn't going to let him down.

Me: he's okay. physical therapy's going well

Melly: you talk to him today?

Me: i'll call him when i get home

Melly: good. he misses you

Me: i miss him too

I shoved my phone back in my pocket, started the scooter, and pulled out into the street.

The city was busy—it always was—taxis honking, people shouting, the smell of street meat and exhaust fumes mixing into something that should've been gross but mostly just smelled like home. I got through traffic, cut down a side street to avoid the worst of the congestion, and was halfway to my apartment when I saw it.

A car.

Parked in the middle of the narrow alley.

Headlights on.

Engine running.

Move, idiot. You're blocking the road.

I slowed down, annoyed, about to go around when I heard it.

A sound.

A low, muffled sound.

Oh no.

Oh no no no—

I should've kept driving. Should've minded my business and remembered that nothing good ever came from sticking your nose where it didn't belong.

But I didn't.

I stopped the scooter. Pulled off my helmet.

And that's when I heard it clearly.

A moan.

Female. Breathy. The kind that didn't leave much room for interpretation.

Are you KIDDING me right now?

I was about to leave, because honestly, who cared if some couple wanted to hook up in their car in a back alley, when I heard the name.

"Foxy…"

My blood went cold.

No.

The windows were tinted, but through the windshield I could just make out two shapes. A woman on top. A man underneath. And then the woman shifted so her blonde ponytail caught the light.

Kerry.

I should've left.

I should've started my scooter and driven away and pretended I'd never seen anything.

But my hands were frozen on the handlebars, and my brain was stuck on repeat: She's doing it again. Right now. Hours after threatening me in June's office.

And then the man in the car spoke.

His voice was low, rough, and I would've recognized it anywhere.

"You're going to get us caught."

Foxe.

I turned the scooter around so fast I almost tipped over, my hands shaking, my heart trying to tear its way out of my chest.

The engine sputtered. Once. Twice.

No. No no no—start. Please start.

I twisted the ignition again, harder this time, and the Vespa roared to life with that horrible rattling sound that suddenly seemed like the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard.

I didn't look back.

Didn't check to see if he was following.

Didn't wait to see if Kerry got out of the car.

I just drove.

Fast.

My helmet was still hanging off the handlebar, forgotten, and the cold February wind bit into my face hard enough to make my eyes water. Or maybe that wasn't the wind at all.

You saw nothing. You were never there. This didn't happen.

But it did happen.

And the worst part, the absolute worst part, was that I knew, with sinking certainty, that tomorrow's meeting was going to be a freaking bloodbath.