All Chapters of Avery Cole: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

CHAPTER ONE THE RULES WHITNEY I learned a long time ago that there were three versions of Dwayne Martago. There was the man the world knew. That Dwayne Martago wore five-thousand-dollar suits, donated obscene amounts of money to children’s hospitals, shook hands with politicians, and smiled beside governors, senators, businessmen, and celebrities who would have crossed the street to avoid him if they knew what those hands had actually done. He appeared in magazines. Business journals called him disciplined. Newspapers called him private. Charity boards called him generous. Men who knew better called him sir. Then there was the man my mother loved. That Dwayne sent white roses to her bedroom every Sunday morning because she had mentioned once—nearly thirty years ago—that they were her favorite. He opened doors for her. Pulled out her chair. Kissed her forehead when he thought no one was watching. He remembered anniversaries without needing an assistant to remind him. He

CHAPTER THREE THE DEVIL I REMEMBERED WHITNEY There were approximately seven thousand restaurants in Los Angeles. We somehow chose one where my father could ruin dinner from two thousand miles away. I should have expected it. The evening had started well. Suspiciously well. Enzo had eventually allowed us to leave Avery’s compound without forcing me upstairs to change, although allowed was probably the wrong word considering I had informed him that if he tried to stop me, I would scream loudly enough to convince every armed man on the property that he was murdering me. He’d stared at me for several seconds. Then muttered something in Italian. I was beginning to suspect most of his Italian vocabulary around me consisted of profanity. Now the five of us sat around a table on the rooftop terrace of an expensive restaurant overlooking Los Angeles. Sierra. Aurora. Cassy. Piper. And me. No Dwayne. No Avery. No armed men standing within six feet of me. Technically. I glanc

CHAPTER FIVE THE NUMBER HE GAVE AWAY WHITNEY I lasted exactly twelve minutes after Enzo walked out of the breakfast room before my phone rang. Twelve minutes of pretending everything was normal. Twelve minutes of Sierra complaining about her headache. Twelve minutes of Piper swearing tequila had been invented by Satan. Twelve minutes of Cassy attempting to eat toast without lifting her head from the table. Twelve minutes of Aurora watching me over the rim of her coffee cup like she knew I was lying every time I said I was fine. Then my phone vibrated against the table. I looked down. DWAYNE. My stomach dropped. Of course. Because apparently the universe had decided I hadn’t suffered enough before noon. Sierra saw the name. “Don’t answer.” I almost smiled. “You said that yesterday.” “And I meant it yesterday too.” The phone continued vibrating. Aurora looked from the screen to me. “You don’t have to answer immediately.” Yes. I did. That was the problem. “I’ll b

CHAPTER SEVEN WHEN HE CAME LOOKING WHITNEY I should have known the night was going too well. That was my first mistake. My second was believing Avery Cole would allow it to continue. We stayed on the dance floor for another hour. Not continuously. I was twenty-six, not sixteen, and apparently my knees had developed opinions since the last time Sierra and I spent entire nights dancing barefoot in bedrooms. But we danced. We drank. We laughed. And every time my mind tried to wander back toward the phone buried in my purse, somebody dragged me into another conversation. For a while, it worked. Sierra told us about the time Archer tried helping her bake a birthday cake and somehow burned the frosting. Aurora nearly spit out her drink. Piper argued that burning frosting should be scientifically impossible. Cassy insisted men could make anything possible if given enough confidence and no supervision. I laughed until my stomach hurt. Then I caught Enzo watching the entrance

CHAPTER NINE THE VOICE ON THE OTHER END WHITNEY The ride back to Avery’s house was torture. Not because Avery said anything. Because he didn’t. He drove with one hand resting on the steering wheel and the other near the gearshift, his eyes fixed on the road. No interrogation. No demands. No questions about the unknown number that had called me twice. He’d promised. And apparently Avery Cole kept his promises even when keeping them was visibly pissing him off. I sat beside him touching my lips like an idiot. I stopped when I realized what I was doing. Then did it again five minutes later. Avery noticed. Of course he noticed. He didn’t say anything. That was worse. I looked out the window. Los Angeles passed around us. People walked dogs. Couples drank coffee outside little cafés. A woman pushed a stroller. A man jogged with headphones. Normal lives. Normal problems. Nobody looking at them would know that the woman sitting in Avery Cole’s passenger seat had jus