ššš ššš:
I hopeyou appreciate what a good friend I am.ā Jules yawned as we tromped across our front yard toward Joshās house. āFor waking up at the butt crack of dawn to help your brother clean and pack when I donāt even like the dude.āI laughed and looped my arm through hers. āIāll buy you a caramel mocha from The Morning Roast after. Promise.āāYeah, yeah.ā She paused. āLarge, with extra crunch toppings?āāYou know it.āāFine.ā Jules yawned again. āThat makes it somewhat worth it.āJules and Josh were not fans of each other. Iād 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 oneānot even supermodels or movie starsāwas immune from insecurities.Besides her grievances with her breasts, Jules was the most confident person Iād ever metāaside 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 heād always been the golden boy, and though it pained me to admit it because he was my brother, he wasnāt 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 didnāt 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.āJosh?ā 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 couldnāt tell, she wasnāt a morning person. āWhere are you?āāBedroom!ā I heard a loud thump upstairs, followed by a muffled curse. A minute later, Josh came down holding a large cardboard box. āShit Iām donating,ā he explained, setting it on the kitchen counter.I wrinkled my nose. āPut a shirt on. Please.āāAnd deprive JR of her morning eye candy?ā Josh smirked. āIām not that cruel.āI wasnāt the only one who thought Jules looked like Jessica Rabbit; Josh always called her by the cartoon characterās initials, which pissed her off to no end. Then again, everything Josh did pissed her off.Jules lifted her head and scowled. āPlease. Iāve seen better abs at the campus gym. Listen to Ava and put a shirt on before I lose last nightās dinner.āāMethinks the lady doth protest too much,ā Josh drawled, slapping a hand against his six-pack. āThe only thing youāll be losing isāāāOkay.ā I slashed my arms through the air, cutting off the conversation before it went down a path thatād scar me for life. āEnough chitchat. Letās get you packed up before you miss your flight.āFortunately, Josh and Jules behaved for the next hour and a half while we packed up the remaining items and loaded them into the SUV heād rented for the move.Soon, the only thing left to pack was the painting.āTell me youāre donating this too.ā I eyed the massive canvas. āI donāt even know how itāll fit in the car.āāNah, leave it there. He likes it.āāWho?ā As far as I knew, no one had taken over Joshās lease yet. But it was still July, and I expected the place to go fast closer to the start of the semester.āYouāll see.āI didnāt like the smile on his face. At all.The low purr of a powerful engine filled the air.Joshās smile broadened. āAs a matter of fact, youāll see right now.āJules 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 didnāt feel particularly welcoming.āButā¦but thatās Alex,ā I stammered.āLooking miiiighty fine, might I add.ā Jules nudged me in the ribs, and I scowled in response. Who cared if he was hot? He was a jerk.āHey, dude.ā Josh slapped hands with Alex. āWhereās your stuff?āāMoving companyās bringing it later.ā Alex side-eyed Jules, who assessed him the way one would a shiny new toy. Besides Josh, Alex was the only guy whoād 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.āWait.ā I put my hand up, my heart slamming a panicked rhythm against my ribcage. āMoving compāyouāre not moving here.āāActually, he is.ā Josh slung an arm over my shoulder, his eyes twinkling with mischief. āMeet your new neighbor, little sis.āMy eyes ping-ponged between him and Alex, who couldnāt look more bored by the conversation.āNo.ā There was only one reason Alex Volkov would leave his cushy D.C. penthouse and move back to Hazelburg, and Iād bet my new camera it had nothing to do with nostalgia for his college days. āNo, no, no, no, no.āāYes, yes, yes, yes, yes.āI glared at my brother. āI donāt need a babysitter. Iām twenty-two years old.āāWho said anything about babysitting?ā Josh shrugged. āHeās looking after the house for me. Iām moving back in when I return next year, so it makes sense.āāBullshit. You want him to keep an eye on me.āāThatās a bonus.ā Joshās face softened. āIt doesnāt hurt to have someone you can rely on when Iām not here, especially given this whole thing with Liam.āI 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. Heād even shown up at the gallery where I worked a few times, begging for another chance. I wasnāt devastated by our breakup. Weād dated for a few months, and I hadnāt 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 letās be honest, Liam was a Brooks-Brother-wearing, polo-playing trust fund baby. I doubted heād do anything that would mess up his perfectly gelled hair.I was more embarrassed Iād dated him than concerned about my physical safety.āI can handle myself.ā I pulled Joshās arm off my shoulder. āCall the moving company and cancel,ā I told Alex, whoād been ignoring us and scrolling through his phone this whole time. āYou do not need to move here. Donāt you haveā¦stuff to do in D.C.?āāD.C. is a twenty-minute drive,ā he said without looking up.āFor the record, I am totally in favor of you moving in next door,ā Jules piped up. Traitor. āDo you mow the lawn shirtless? If not, I highly recommend it.āAlex and Josh frowned at the same time.āYou.ā Josh pointed at her. āDo not pull any of your shenanigans while Iām gone.āāItās cute how you think you have a say in my life.āāI donāt give a shit what you do with your life. Itās when you drag Ava into your harebrained schemes Iām concerned.āāNewsflash: you donāt have a say in Avaās life either. Sheās her own person.āāSheās my sisterāāāSheās my best friendāāāRemember when you almost got her arrestedāāāYou have to let that go. That was three years agoāāāPeople!ā I pressed my fingers to my temple. Dealing with Josh and Jules was like dealing with children. āStop arguing. Josh, stop trying to control my life. Jules, stop provoking him.āJosh crossed his arms over his chest. āAs your big brother, itās my job to protect you and to appoint someone to fill in for me when Iām not here.āI grew up with him; I recognized that look on his face. He wasnāt budging.āI assume Alex is the fill-in?ā I asked in a resigned tone.āIām not a āfill-inā anything,ā Alex said icily. āDonāt do anything stupid, and weāll be fine.āI groaned and covered my face with my hands.This was going to be a long year.______Two days later,Josh was in Central America and Alex was all moved in. Iād watched the movers carry a giant flat-screen TV and boxes of varying sizes into the house next door, and Alexās Aston Martin was now a daily sight.Since stewing over my situation wouldnāt do me much good, I decided to make lemonade out of my lemons.The gallery closed on Tuesdays during the summer and I didnāt have any shoots scheduled, so I spent the afternoon baking my signature red velvet cookies.Iād just finished packaging them in a cute little basket when I heard the unmistakable roar of Alexās 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 shouldnāt be nervous about bringing the man cookies, for Peteās 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 couldnāt 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, Iād 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 brotherās 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 cowardās 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. Heād taken off his jacket, but otherwise, he still wore his work outfitāwhite 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.āTheyāre for you.ā I shoved the basket toward him. āTheyāre cookies,ā I added unnecessarily, because duh, he had eyes and could see for himself that they were cookies. āItās a welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift.āāA welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift,ā he repeated.āYep. Since youāreā¦new. To the neighborhood.ā I sounded like an idiot. āI know you donāt want to be here any more than I want you hereāā Crap, that came out wrong. āBut since we are neighbors, we should call a truce.āAlex arched an eyebrow. āI wasnāt aware a truce was necessary. Weāre not in a war.āāNo, butāā I blew out a frustrated breath. He had to make this difficult. āIām trying to be nice, okay? Weāre 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.āHis mouth twitched. āDid you just compare me to Voldemort?āāWhat? No!ā Maybe. āI used the snake as an example. You donāt seem like the type whoād have a furry pet.āāYouāre right on that account. But I donāt have a snake, either.ā He took the basket off my hands. āThank you.āI blinked. Blinked again. Did Alex Volkov thank me? Iād expected him to take the cookies and shut the door in my face. Heād never thanked me for anything in my life.Except maybe that one time I passed him the mashed potatoes at dinner, but Iād been drunk, so my recollection was hazy.I was still frozen in shock when he added, āDo you want to come in?āThis 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.āSure,ā I managed, because hell, I was curious. Iād never been inside Alexās home before, and I was curious to see what heād done with Joshās place.Heād 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 heād 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 Joshās 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 wasnāt much furniture to speak of. It was a drastic difference from Joshās messy but cozy collection of random books, sports equipment, and items heād collected from his travels.āYouāre a minimalist, huh?ā I examined a strange metal sculpture that looked like an exploding brain but probably cost more than my monthly rent.āI donāt see a point in collecting items I donāt use and donāt enjoy.ā Alex placed the cookies on the coffee table and walked to the bar cart in the corner. āDrink?āāNo, thanks.ā 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 wasnāt far enough. I caught a whiff of his cologneāsomething woodsy and expensive-smelling, with a hint of spice. It was so delicious I wanted to bury my face in his neck, but I didnāt think heād take too kindly to that.āRelax,ā he said dryly. āI donāt bite.āāIām relaxed.āāYour knuckles are white.āI glanced down and realized I was clutching the edges of the couch so tightly my knuckles were, indeed, white.āI like what youāve done with the place.ā I winced. Talk about a clichĆ© line. āNo photos though.ā In fact, I didnāt see any personal effectsānothing that showed I was in an actual home and not a model showroom.āWhy would I need photos?āI couldnāt tell if he was joking or not. Probably not. Alex didnāt joke, except for that one blip in his car a few days ago.āFor the memories,ā I said, like I was explaining a simple concept to a toddler. āTo remember people and events?āāI donāt need photos for that. The memories are here.ā Alex tapped the side of his forehead.āEveryoneās memories fade. Photos donāt.ā At least, not digital ones.āNot mine.ā He set his empty glass on the coffee table, his eyes dark. āI have a superior memory.āMy snort slipped out before I could stop it. āSomeone has a high opinion of himself.āThat earned me a shadow of a smirk. āIām not bragging. I have hyperthymesia, or HSAM. Highly Superior Autobiographical Memory. Look it up.āI paused. That, I hadnāt expected. āYou have a photographic memory?āāNo, theyāre different. People with photographic memory recall details from a scene theyāve observed for a short time. People with HSAM remember almost everything about their life. Every conversation, every detail, every emotion.ā Alexās jade eyes morphed into emeralds, dark and haunted. āWhether or not they want to.āāJosh never mentioned this.ā Not once, not a hint, and theyād been friends for close to a decade.āJosh doesnāt tell you everything.āIād never heard of hyperthymesia. It sounded fantastical, like something out of a science fiction movie, but I heard the truth in Alexās 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 Iād rather let fade into oblivion. I couldnāt 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.āWhatās it like?ā 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.āItās like watching a movie of your life play out before your eyes,ā he said quietly. āSometimes itās a drama. Sometimes itās horror.āThe air pulsed with tension. I was sweating so hard my top stuck to my skin. āNo comedy or romance?ā I tried to joke, but the question came out so breathless it sounded like a come-on.Alexās 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. āGo home, Ava. Stay out of trouble.āIt 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 Iād also never felt more alive.__________________šššš ššš:I slammed my fist into the mannequinās face, reveling 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 didnāt stop. Iād done this so many times I didnāt 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. Iād 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 Iād needed this release to reset.āHope you worked off your frustration,ā Ralph, the owner of the training center and my personal instructor since Iād 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. Heād knock my lights out if I ever told him or anyone else that though. āYou looked like you had a personal vendetta against Harper.āRalph named all the training dummies after TV characters or real-life people he didnāt like.āShitty week.ā 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. āI could go for the real thing right now.āDummies 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. Couldnāt do that if your opponent was an inanimate object.āYeah, letās do it. Gotta end right at seven, thoughāno overtime. Thereās a new class coming in.āI raised my eyebrows. āClass?āThe KM Academy catered toward intermediate to advanced practitioners and specialized in one-on-one or small group sessions. It didnāt host large classes the way most other centers did.Ralph shrugged. āYeah. Weāre opening the center up to beginners. Just one class for now, see how it goes. Missy bugged me about it until I agreedāsaid people would be interested in learning it for self-defense and that we have the best instructors in the city.ā He barked out a laugh. āThirty years of marriage. She knows how to stroke the olā ego. So here we are.āāNot to mention, itās a good business decision.ā 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.Ralphās eyes twinkled. āThat, too.āI took another swig of water, my mind spinning. Beginner lessonsā¦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 wasnāt happy playing babysitter, but Ava and I had settled into a wary ātruceāāher word, not mineāsince 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 Iād look after his sister, and that was what Iād do. Sign her up for self-defense lessons, upgrade her houseās shitty alarm systemāsheād thrown a fit when the security company woke her up at seven in the morning to install the new system, but she got over itāwhatever 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 wouldnāt mind more of those red velvet cookies though. They were good.I especially wouldnāt mind if she delivered them wearing the tiny shorts and tank top sheād 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.āThatās my cue.ā Ralph clapped me on the shoulder. āGood session. You might even beat me one dayāif youāre lucky.āI smirked. āFuck you. I can already beat you if I want.āIād come close to doing it once, but part of me liked the fact I wasnāt the bestāyet. It gave me a goal to strive toward. But I would win. I always did.Ralphās laugh rolled through the sweat-dampened space like thunder. āKeep telling yourself that, kid. See you Tuesday.āAfter he exited the room, I checked my phone for new messages.Nothing.A tiny furrow creased my brow. Iād texted Ava almost an hour ago, and she was a compulsively fast replier unless she had a photoshoot. She didnāt have one today. I knew because I made her promise to tell me every time she did, along with the location and clientsā 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 sheād turned off her phoneāsomething I told her never to doāor 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 memoryāthat of me attending my first Krav Maga lesson at sixteenāuntil the red stains of my past retreated.When I opened them again, anger and worry coalesced into a block in my stomach, and I didnāt bother changing out of my training clothes before I exited the center and took off for Avaās house.āYou better be there,ā 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 didnāt give a shit.If you canāt drive, get off the road.By the time I arrived at Avaās place, I still hadnāt 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.āWhere is she?ā I dispensed of the usual greetings when Jules swung open the door.āWho?ā she asked, all doe-eyed innocence. I wasnāt fooled. Jules Ambrose was one of the most dangerous women Iād ever met, and anyone who thought otherwise because of the way she looked and flirted was an idiot.āAva,ā I growled. āSheās not answering her phone.āāMaybe sheās busy.āāDonāt fuck with me, Jules. She could be in trouble, and I know your boss. Wouldnāt take much more than a word from me to derail your internship.āIād done my research on all of Avaās closest friends. Jules was pre-law, and the internship between a studentās junior and senior years was critical for admittance into a competitive law school.All traces of flirty coquettishness melted. Jules narrowed her eyes. āDonāt threaten me.āāDonāt play games.āWe glared at each other for a minute, precious seconds ticking by before she relented. āSheās not in trouble, okay? Sheās with a friend. Like I said, sheās probably busy. Sheās not glued to her phone.āāAddress.āāYouāre hot, but you can be a real overbearing asshole.āāAddress.āJules huffed out a sigh. āIām only telling you if I can go with you. To make sure you donāt do anything stupid.āI 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.āWhy are you so concerned? Ava has her own life, and sheās not a dog. She doesnāt have to jump every time you say fetch.ā Jules flipped down the visor mirror and retouched her lipstick when we stopped at a red light.āFor someone who claims to be her best friend, youāre not concerned enough.ā Irritation coiled in my stomach. āWhen have you known her not to reply within minutes of receiving a text or a call?āāUh, when sheās in the bathroom. Class. Work. Sleeping. Showering. A photoāāāItās been almost an hour,ā I snapped.Jules shrugged. āMaybe sheās having sex.āA muscle jumped in my jaw. I wasnāt sure which version of Jules was worseāthe one who always tried to convince me to mow the lawn shirtless, or the one who relished baiting me.Why couldnāt Ava have lived with one of her other friends? Stella seemed more accommodating, and given her background, Bridget wouldnāt ever say the shit Jules said.But no, I was stuck with the redheaded menace.No wonder Josh always complained about her.āYou said sheās with a friend.ā I pulled onto the street where said friendās house was located and parked.āA male friend.ā She unbuckled her seatbelt with a beatific smile. āThanks for the ride and conversation. It wasā¦enlightening.āI didnāt bother asking her what she meant. Sheād 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. āCan I help you?āāWhereās Ava?āāSheās upstairs, but whoāā I shouldered my way past him, which wasnāt hard considering he weighed a hundred sixty, tops.āHey, you canāt go up there!ā he yelled. āTheyāre in the middle of something.āFuck. That. If Ava was having sexāa dangerous rhythm pulsed behind my temple at the thoughtāthat was all the more reason for an interruption. Horny college guys were some of the most dangerous creatures in existence.I wondered if sheād gotten back together with her ex. Josh mentioned the weasel had cheated on her, and she didnāt seem like the type whoād crawl back to someone after they treated her terribly, but I wouldnāt 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 didnāt need to guess what room she was ināI 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 couldnāt be up here even though I was already fucking here.I didnāt 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 cameraās display screen, so engrossed in their little tĆŖte-Ć -tĆŖte they didnāt notice they had company.My temple pulsed harder.āWhatā¦ā My voice sliced through the air like a whip. āIs going on here.āIt wasnāt a question. I knew what was going on. The setup, the rumpled bed, Avaās outfitā¦they were in the middle of a photoshoot. With Ava as the model. Dressed in something that wouldnāt 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.Iād never seen her like this. It wasnāt 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 lustāshe was my best friendās sister, for fuckās sakeāand inexplicable fury that other men were seeing her like this.Avaās eyes widened with alarm when she spotted me. āAlex? What are you doing here?āāI tried to stop him,ā Spectacles panted, out of breath. Living proof that skinniness does not equal fitness.āHeās here for you, babe.ā Jules leaned against the doorway, her amber eyes glowing with amusement. āYou look super hot, by the way. Canāt wait to see the pics.āāYou are not seeing the pics,ā I ground out. āNo one is seeing the pics.ā I yanked the blanket off the bed and tossed it over Avaās shoulders, covering her up. āWeāre leaving. Right now. And Blondie here is deleting every photo he took of you.āHer jaw dropped. āNo, Iām not, and no, heās not. You canāt tell me what to do.ā She threw the blanket on the ground and lifted her chin in defiance. āYouāre not my father or brother, and even if you were, you have no say in what I do in my free time.āāHeās taking photos of you half-naked,ā I snapped. āDo you know how destructive those can be if theyāre leaked? If a future employer sees them?āāI volunteered for this,ā she snapped back. āItās boudoir photography. Artistic. People do this all the time. Itās not like Iām baring it all for a porn site. How did you even know I was here?āāOops,ā Jules said from behind us. She didnāt sound sorry at all.āYou might as well be.ā The simmering in my blood had reached a full boil. āGet. Dressed.āāNo-oh.ā Avaās glare intensified, and she dragged out the word ānoā until it had two syllables.āHey, dude, I donāt mean no harm.ā Blondie let out a nervous chuckle. āLike she said, this is art. Iāll edit it so her face is in shadow and no one can tell itās her. I just need the photos for my portāwhat are you doing?ā 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.āStop! Youāre being ridiculous.ā Ava tried to retrieve the camera, to no avail. āDo you know how long those photos took? Stop. You areāā She yanked on my arm. It didnāt budge. āBeingāā Another yank, same result. āUnreasonable!āāIām protecting you, since you clearly canāt do it yourself.āMy 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 didnāt take a genius to figure out what had been going through his mind the entire time. It was the same thing that wouldāve gone through any red-blooded maleās 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. Iād 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.āGive it back,ā she ordered.It was almost cute how she thought she could order me around.āNo.āAva narrowed her eyes. āIf you donāt give it back, I swear to God Iāll walk out into the street wearing this outfit.āAnother bolt of fury sizzled through me. āYou wouldnāt.āāTry me.āOur 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. āIf you step a foot outside this room in that outfit, Iāll not only delete every picture on this camera, but I will destroy your āfriendāsā career until he has to resort to advertising shitty five-dollar-an-hour headshots on Craigslist.ā A wintry smile touched my lips. āYou wouldnāt want that, would you?āThere are two ways to threaten people: attack them directly, or attack those they care about. I wasnāt above doing either.Avaās mouth trembled. She believed me, as she should, because I meant every word. I wasnāt 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. āYouāre an asshole.āāYes, I am, and donāt you forget it.ā I straightened. āGet dressed.āAva didnāt 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 Blondieās hands. āNever ask Ava to do something like this again.ā I towered over him, relishing the subtle shake of his shoulders as he tried not to cower. āIf you do, Iāll know. And you wonāt like what happens next.āāOkay,ā 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.āLetās go.ā The words came out sharper than Iād intended.Ava finally looked at me, her eyes flashing. āWeāll go when Iām ready.āI didnāt 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 Blondieās 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 didnāt 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 whoā¦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 couldnāt hear the music.āIt was for your own good,ā I said over the teeny-tiny beats of the latest rap hit.Ava turned her body further away and didnāt respond.Fine. She could be mad all she wanted. The only thing I regretted was not smashing Blondieās camera altogether.It wasnāt like I cared about her silent treatment. Not one bit.ššš ššš:āā¦Then said, never ask Ava to do something like this again, or I will murder you and your entire family,ā Jules finished dramatically before taking a sip of her caramel mocha.āShut up.ā Stella leaned forward, her eyes wide. āHe did not say that.āāNo, he didnāt.ā I shot Jules a disapproving look. āStop exaggerating.āāHow would you know? You were in the bathroom,ā she countered. When my frown deepened, she sighed. āFine. He didnāt say those exact wordsāat least, not the last partābut the general idea was the same. He did warn Owen away from you though.ā Jules ripped off a piece of her cranberry scone and popped it in her mouth.āPoor Owen.ā 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 Owenās house on Saturday. āI wish he had
šššš ššš:āDonāt do this.āI poured myself a cup of coffee, leaned against the counter, and took a leisurely sip before responding. āIām not sure why youāre calling me, Andrew. Iām the COO. You should talk to Ivan.āāThatās bullshit,ā Andrew spat. āYou pull the strings behind the scenes, and everyone knows it.āāThen everyone is wrong, which wouldnāt be the first time.ā I checked my Patek Philippe watch. Limited edition, hermetically sealed and waterproof, the stainless-steel timepiece had set me back a cool twenty grand. Iād bought it after I sold my financial modeling software for eight figures, one month after my fourteenth birthday. āAh, itās almost time for my nightly meditation session.ā I didnāt meditate, and we both knew it. āI wish you the best. Iām sure youāll have a flourishing second career as a busker. You took band in high school, didnāt you?āāAlex, please.ā Andrewās voice turned pleading. āI have a family. Kids. My oldest da
ššš ššš: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.Iād considered throwing the outfit away after we broke up because heād 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 couldnāt hurt if I was angling for an unannounced evening moviethon with Alex.I couldnāt think of any good ideas to make him sad without being a total bitch, so Iād 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
šššš ššš:I silently cursed Josh as I carried Ava upstairs. That asshole always put me in situations I didnāt want to be in.Case in point: sleeping in the same room as his sister.Iām sure he would be even less happy about it than I was, but I hadnāt set up the guest roomāI never had guests, not if I could help itāand it was pouring outside, so I couldnāt bring her home without both of us getting drenched. I couldāve left her on the couch, but she wouldāve been damn uncomfortable.I kicked open the door to my room and set her on the bed. She didnāt 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 ski
ššš ššš:Something smelled delicious,like spice and heat. 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 didnāt want to wake up, but Iād 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 cozinessāhad my bed always been this big and softābefore 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, upāstraight 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 itā¦and realized, to my abject horror, that I was touching Alex Volkovās dick. Unintention
ššš ššš:OPERATION EMOTION:PHASE DISGUSTāYou already brought me welcome-to-the-neighborhood cookies.ā Alex stared at the basket on the dining table.āThese arenāt welcome cookies.ā I pushed the basket toward him. āThese are an experiment. I tried a new recipe and wanted to see what you think.āHe made an impatient noise. āI donāt have time for this. I have a conference call in half an hour.āāIt wonāt take you half an hour to eat one cookie.āYes, I had finagled an invitation inside Alexās 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 didnāt know about him, but Iād prefer if we forgot about that morning altogether.āFine.ā He peered at the confections with suspicion. āWhat flavor?āAsparagus, raisins, and garlic brittle.Iād picked the most disgusting ingredient mixture I could think of because this was, after all, Phase Disgust. Part of me felt bad becaus
ššš ššš:The experiment is a failure,but at least itās over.ā I sucked down the rest of my cranberry vodka. Iād nursed it for so long all the ice had melted and it tasted like fruity water. āThank God.āāToo bad.ā Bridget looked disappointed. āI was looking forward to seeing Alex lose his cool.āāHe still can. The experiment isnāt over yet.ā Jules wagged her finger in the air.Unease crawled down my neck. āYes, it is. We decided on four phases: sadness, disgust, happiness, and fear.āāThere are five phases.ā Julesās hazel eyes sparkled with mischief. āThe last is jealousy, or did you forget?āāI never agreed to that!āWe were at The Crypt, Thayerās 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.āBut itās the best one,ā Jules argued. āDonātāāāAva.āI stiffened at the sound of my name said in that voice. The voice that used
šššš ššš:Thayer Universityāsannual alumni charity gala was the event of the season, but while it did raise money for the latest cause du jour, it wasnāt 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.āā¦pass the bill, but itāll get killed in Congressā¦āI 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 gam