Nothing to Lose E-Book

Scarlett Finn

• Herausgeber: Moriona Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Come to New York with us, Roxie!
It’ll be so much fun!
We have tickets to the grand reopening of the Crimson flagship nightclub.
My girls don’t know the truth. How can I say no?
 
Who says no to five-star travel? I should have. Isn’t retrospect a b*tch? Life was so much easier before him. Going home should mean regularly scheduled programming. Except something’s different. I just can’t figure out what.
 
My girls are the same. My apartment. My work. Sure, a few die-hard fans camp outside my building, that’s different. Oh, and bodyguards hang around me like a bad smell. But everything else is the same… right?
 
No. If only. Damn. Move on already. He’s in my head and won’t go away. Then New Year hits and, of course, my girls want to go to New York.
 
Say no. Say no. Say no. How can I say no? I can’t without confessing. It’s fine. It’ll be fine. What could possibly go wrong? Wait… déjà vu…
 
 
Warning: Contains explicit language and imagery. Suitable only for ages 18 and over.

Leseprobe

Copyright © 2021 Scarlett Finn

Published by Moriona Press 2021

All rights reserved.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

First published in 2021

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form on by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

www.scarlettfinn.com

NOTHING TO…

Nothing to Hide

Nothing to Lose

Nothing to Declare

Nothing to Us

Nothing to Say

Read them in order for maximized reading pleasure.

For other titles from Scarlett Finn, please read on after the story.

Click here if you’d like to leave a message for Scarlett.

Enjoy!

Contents

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

THIRTY-ONE

THIRTY-TWO

THIRTY-THREE

THIRTY-FOUR

THIRTY-FIVE

THIRTY-SIX

THIRTY-SEVEN

THIRTY-EIGHT

THIRTY-NINE

FORTY

FORTY-ONE

FORTY-TWO

FORTY-THREE

ONE

The sleek black car stopped at the curb. Her address. Yep, it still existed. Roxie Kyst was officially home. Should there be a woo-hoo? It didn’t feel like it.

The real world. Going strong. Good for it. Life went on regardless of her absence… why shouldn’t it?

The driver opened her door to help her get out. Waiting for assistance had become habit… Wow, when had she forgotten how to open a car door? How had she become indifferent to it all? Questions would drive her insane. Time to get over the vacation and focus on home.

The building was the same, except… she didn’t recognize it. Familiarity didn’t visit. Joy, misery, excitement, indifference, none of those were right either. What did she feel? Numb, maybe… Like a stranger. A stranger in her own life.

After spending over three months with Zairn Lomond, touring the global Crimson nightclub network, adjusting to her old life would take time. Zairn’s generosity had afforded her many incredible experiences in different countries. With him, life had been rich with people, vibrant, varied. Same old, same old would be a change of pace.

“Miss Kyst?”

The man at her side gestured toward the stoop. Another guy stood near the trunk of the Mercedes. The guy next to her was the driver, wasn’t he? So who the hell was the guy at the trunk? Chauffeurs didn’t work in pairs, not for a quick trip from the airport.

“I can get my own luggage,” she said when guy number two popped the trunk.

“Please, Miss Kyst,” the man next to her said, blocking her way. “You’ll be safer inside.”

Ding! Ding! His tone set off an alarm in her head.

“Oh my God,” she groaned, her muscles loosening. “You’re security.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Well, if that wasn’t just perfect. “Asshole,” she muttered. The guy’s startled reaction wrung a sigh from her. “Not you. What’s your name?”

“Trevor,” he said, just as a chunky black Escalade pulled up.

Three guys got out and headed toward guy number two at the trunk.

“Damnit,” she muttered. “Who are those guys?”

Trevor glanced back. “Your team.”

“Oh my God.” Roxie marched over to the trunk to snatch out her purse. “Any of you get in my way, I’m not beyond calling the papers to ruin the reputation of the guy signing your paychecks.”

Not that the guy who signed their paychecks had the most pristine of reputations to protect.

Don’t stress about it. Take a breath and carry on.

On her walk toward the stairs, someone leaped into her path.

“Roxie! Roxie!”

Pausing, she recoiled. “Why the hell are you shouting? I’m standing right here.” Short, a little smarmy, keen. Yep. This guy was familiar, and not because they’d met before. With experience, his type was easy to spot. “Got your notebook?” He held up his phone, ready and eager to type in her words. She cleared her throat and leaned in. “No comment.” The guy’s smile fell, which formed hers. “Get a real job.”

Walking into her building had never been so eventful. She climbed the exterior stairs, digging around in her purse for the keys. When was the last time she’d unlocked a door? Stupid overstuffed, unorganized purse. Unfortunately, Zairn’s diamond security pass around her neck didn’t work on ye-olde-fashioned key locks. He’d spoiled her.

After turning the key and casting Trevor into the role of doorstop, she ascended the stairs. The guys would bring her luggage. Her friends were upstairs. Normality. Sanity.

If someone was home, the apartment should be unlocked… Were they home? Yes! Thank God that hadn’t changed; no key required. Inside, a big “welcome back” banner hung between the windows on the far wall. Her friends, wearing party hats and blowing noisemakers, leaped from the couch to run over.

There it was. Home. Her girls were her home.

Two seconds over the threshold and already there were tears in her eyes. “You guys…” she said, dropping her purse to pull both of them into a hug. “I missed you so much.”

Moisture rolled from her lashes. Her girls. Home. They were her lifeline. Her beacon of hope. Her stability. Everything would be alright again; her girls were all she needed.

“Oh no,” Jane said when Roxie finally freed them. “You’re crying! Why are you crying?”

Jane was quick to hug her again.

“I’d cry too if I was forced to leave Zairn Lomond in California,” Toria said. “If I was forced to leave him anywhere.”

Waking up with him in LA felt more like a mirage than reality. Roxie hadn’t left him in the Golden State. She’d left him on his plane, in his bedroom… a million miles and a million minutes away. Maybe that was a hallucination too.

“I’m happy to see you both,” Roxie said, kissing Jane and then Toria. “They’re happy tears.”

Her roommates helped swipe them away.

A knock at the door interrupted the trio.

“Damnit,” Roxie muttered, wiping her cheeks one last time before opening the slightly ajar front door. As expected, Trevor and two of his associates stood with her luggage. “Down there…” She stepped back to point at the hallway leading off the living room. The bedrooms, bathroom, and laundry were located that way. “Last door on the right.”

Moving aside, she let the men go in the indicated direction.

“Wow,” Toria said. “You have a staff.”

“They are not my staff,” Roxie said. “Zairn has his panties in a bunch over this Gambatto thing. Speaking of, do you know where Porter’s staying?”

“The city put him up at a hotel,” Toria said. “The Grand, I think, which is funny because that’s where Crimson sent us.”

Roxie cringed. “I’m sorry about that. It was pure insanity.”

“I didn’t mind,” Jane said. “It was nice not to have chores for a while.”

Yeah, right. She wasn’t buying it. Jane lived for chores.

“Girl, please, you brought gloves and your homemade cleaning spray. That room’s never been so germ-free.”

Sounded more like it. “Hey, that makes me happy. I’m glad everything’s the way I left it. Everyone’s just the same,” Roxie said, putting an arm around each of her friends. “We’re back to our same old, normal boring life.”

“No! No way,” Toria said, dragging her across the room. “We want every single detail. You’ve been jetting all over the world with like the hottest guy on the planet. We want to know everything about him.”

The security guys reappeared and loitered at the mouth of the hallway as Roxie and her roommates settled themselves on the couch.

“I know you’re not waiting for a tip,” Roxie said. “One of you can stand outside the door. That’s it.”

Two of them headed that way.

Trevor came over, fishing something from his pocket. He held up a metal cylinder on a short chain. “Mr. Lomond requires you to carry—”

“What the hell is that?” Roxie asked.

“A panic button.”

She rolled her eyes upward. “Oh, for the love of…” Rising just enough to reach over, she opened her hand. “Give it to me. Just…” She snatched it to toss it onto the coffee table. Before he could say a word, she spoke. “There’s a reason he didn’t give it to me himself.” Trevor frowned. “It wasn’t because he trusted your ability to appease me. It was because he didn’t want the earache.” She tilted her head to the side. “Do you want the earache, Trevor? Do you?”

“No, ma’am.”

She shooed him with a wave.

Something occurred to her before he got to the door. “Trevor?”

“Miss Kyst?”

Her eyes narrowed on the panic button. “Mr. Lomond didn’t request I carry that. Sean Ballard did…” When there was no answer, she twisted to look at Trevor over the back of the couch. “You can tell him I was super accommodating. He’ll never believe you, but you can tell him.”

He nodded and left, closing the door at his back.

“Oh my God,” Toria said, both she and Jane drawing in closer. “You know Sean Ballard!”

“I know him,” Roxie said, wriggling out from between her friends to go around the couch and into the kitchen by the front door. “Do we have wine, tequila, anything alcoholic?”

White wine in the fridge. Score! A little liquid libation suited her mood. She grabbed the bottle and another of red from the counter. Couldn’t have too much on hand. Re-entry was unsettling.

“Do you want to go out tonight?” Toria asked. “We thought we could hit the bars.”

Jane laughed. “Maybe after being a VIP at Crimson, our usual haunts are beneath her.”

It was good-hearted; Jane was just playing. Roxie mustered a smile as she put the bottles on the coffee table and headed back to the kitchen.

“We can go out if you want,” she said, grabbing glasses and a corkscrew. “Not sure what my new henchmen will think of that. And there’s a reporter outside.”

“Yeah, it was him who told us you were on your way home,” Jane said. “How do they know stuff like that?”

Roxie put down the glasses and kneeled on the floor at the coffee table opposite her girls on the couch. “It’s amazing the things they find out,” she said, twisting the corkscrew into the bottle of red. “They pay for it… or blackmail for it… Or they wait until you’re stupid enough to leave your computer streaming for the entire planet to see.”

“Were you just mortified?” Jane asked.

“I didn’t even know about it until nine days later. Z didn’t let anyone in to see me. Idiot me didn’t think much about it when I was sick. He and the doctor were the only two people I saw, no one else. Astrid would’ve told me, that girl can’t keep a secret for anything…” She thought about their conversation forever ago on the plane. “Well, she can keep a secret, just not something like that.”

“Z?” Toria said, drawing it out in a tease. “You call him Z?”

“I’ve called him worse,” Roxie said, pouring wine for Toria, then pushing it toward her. “So have a lot of other people.”

“Tell us what he’s like,” Jane said.

Her focus stayed on opening the white wine. “I’ve been away from home for three months! My days have been splashed across screens all over the world. You know what I’ve been doing. What’s been going on here? Catch me up.”

“There is like nothing fun going on here,” Toria said. “I started sleeping with Simon again.”

“Oh, hey, he was cool.”

“Well, yeah, then I went into hiding and had to stop calling.”

Roxie winced. “Oops. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Toria said, scooping up her glass and sinking against the back of the couch. “I wasn’t that into him. But…” She shook a finger at Jane. “But she… she’s been messing with London Guy.”

“I have to message Graham for work,” Jane said, accepting the wine from Roxie when she rose high on her knees to hand it over the table.

“Is he the one you had webcam sex with?” Roxie asked. “If that’s being professional these days, I’m definitely re-entering the workplace as soon as possible.”

Toria burst out laughing as Jane blustered and blushed. Roxie had missed her girls. Being home was a comfort. Everything was as it always had been… wasn’t it?

TWO

“We’d understand if you needed rest,” Jane said. “You’ve been out every night for months.”

“Not every night,” Roxie said, descending their building’s internal stairs, holding both of her girls’ hands.

“She wouldn’t know what to do with herself if she wasn’t out partying,” Toria said. “It’s only right that we get to paint the town crimson too. You see what I did there?”

Roxie smiled at her friend. “Clever.”

The security guy in front of them opened the communal door to check outside and gestured it was safe. Good job, guy. She didn’t miss a step and wouldn’t have waited regardless, but he didn’t know that.

Two other agents closed in behind them as the trio of women exited. On the top stair, she stopped, forcing her girls to do the same.

Why was…?

The reporter from earlier was on the sidewalk with a few more of his kind. Hmm. There was a gaggle of women there as well, groupies, crowded together, wearing Casanova-4-Lola tee-shirts. She smiled. They reminded her of the Experience winners.

The people hadn’t taken her momentum. No. The Mercedes at the curb had done that. The driver got out and went around to open the back door.

Why was it still there? She didn’t need a staff. Why was no one getting this message?

The reporters shouted. “Roxie! Rox!”

The groupies were quick to follow suit and called out to her too.

When she started down the stairs, they all rushed in. Security was quick to hold them back. Reporters, fine, block their way, but the groupies were a different matter. She smiled and gestured them around the end of the goon.

“Hey,” she said. “It’s freezing out tonight. You’ll catch cold.”

“We love you, Rox.”

“Yeah, you completely rock!”

“Zairn too.”

“Thank you,” she said. “We both appreciate it.”

“Will you sign our shirts?”

“Oh, uh…” One woman thrust a Sharpie into Roxie’s hand. Jane took her purse, deciding for her. Guess autographs were on. “Sure.” After removing the lid with her teeth, she started signing shoulders. “Want me to sign Z’s name too?” she asked, the lid still in her teeth. “I can totally forge it.”

The women laughed. “You’re amazing together.”

“We’re not together,” Roxie said, wiping off the lid before putting it back on the pen.

A reporter jumped closer. “Is that an official quote, Miss Kyst?”

“You can kiss my ass,” she snapped at the reporter trying to dodge security. “That’s your quote.”

“Oh-kay, and we’re done with the meet and greet,” Toria said, opening her arms to herd Roxie into the car. As the vehicle pulled away, her friends’ attention zeroed in on her. “Snappy day?”

Roxie exhaled. “I know, I’m sorry,” she said, sinking back, catching her hair between her fingers. “They can just… they ride him so hard and…”

“I would too if given the chance,” Toria said, nudging her. Trust her glorious friend to joke at exactly the right moment. She’d missed her girls so much. “How long do we get to keep the car?”

“No idea,” Roxie said. “I didn’t know about it.”

“It’s amazing,” Jane said, stroking the door. “You lived like this for three months?”

Toria laughed. “The private jets and five-star living were probably better than the cars. Bet this kinda thing is no big deal.”

“It’s a big deal,” Roxie said. Being honest, she took the vehicles for granted. The jets, the suites, they were flashy. The cars conveyed them from one place to another. All of them were brand new and often full of gadgets. Still, it became second nature to expect a waiting ride. “I’ll call Astrid about it later.”

“No!” Toria objected. “We like it. We want a piece of the lifestyle too.”

“It’s incredible. Living like this…” Jane said in wonder. “What was your favorite part?”

Both women leaned in. “My favorite part…” of the trip? The sex. No, that came second to the spark of excitement when he teased her. But that wasn’t what they meant. “I liked the view.”

“Mmm hmm,” Toria said in agreement, reminding her of Zairn. “I’d stare at him all day long.”

“Oh,” Jane said, grabbing her hand. “Do you have pictures?”

“Excellent question,” Toria said, shifting to get a better look at her. “Anything shirtless… or, you know… pantless?”

Restraining her laugh wasn’t easy. “He rarely went wandering around the suite naked… There were too many damn people in there all the time.”

Not all the time. In the day, yes, people popped in and out. The evening could be busy too, depending on business and documentary needs. But after hours… after the club… after the drive home in the dark, when their hands and mouths wandered…

Getting away with what they had was crazy. Sure, it was only eleven days, but, wow, screwing in the back of his car…? The privacy screen was always up. Ha-ha, like that mattered. It wasn’t soundproof. Keeping it quiet hadn’t been at the forefront of her mind during certain climactic moments.

Their favorite bar was just a couple of blocks from their apartment. The Mercedes pulled up outside it.

“I love that they know everything about you,” Toria said.

Huh… How did they know? Her friends thought the Crimson people knew. Obviously, they did. But how? Had she mentioned it…? To anyone other than Zairn.

Trevor and his buddies appeared in the side window before the driver. Half a step behind, security flanked him as he opened the door. Nuts. Crazy. Wasn’t this supposed to be her past, not her present?

The three women got out. Security stayed close as they entered the bar. Busy. But not crazy. The corner between the bar and the front window was their favorite spot. The tall stools around the circular tables allowed them to monitor the bar’s comings and goings.

They were settling at the table when a server tried to approach. Trevor got in her way.

“Geez, man,” Roxie called over the background music. “Let the woman do her job.” For a second, he hesitated. Idiot. If the server couldn’t bring drinks, she’d have to go to the bar where there were many more people. “I don’t think she was hanging here just waiting to kill me.”

The overwhelming logic apparently convinced him because he stepped aside.

“What can I get you?” the blonde asked.

Drawing in a breath, Toria began their regular order. “Lime-drop—”

“Gin and Cin with a twist, or Gin and It, whatever you call it. They’re both the same,” Roxie said, wincing at her friend’s blinking surprise. “Stupid habit I picked up in Italy.”

Her bemused friend quickly switched into a laugh. “Look at you all exotic.” They finished their order, and the server left. “Okay, so tell us…” Toria supported her chin with the heel of her hand. “We want the juice now, all the dirt.”

“What do you mean?”

Like she didn’t know.

“Did you fuck him?”

“No!” Jane exclaimed before Roxie could even inhale. “No! We don’t want her to answer that.”

“Why not?” Toria asked, laughing. “Because if he’s been inside any part of her, he’s off-limits for us? Good point, kills the fantasy.”

“No,” Jane droned at their witty friend. “It’s not romantic. She can’t kiss and tell.”

“It’s in the past,” Roxie said, wishing the alcohol would hurry. “Done and forgotten.”

“I want to know! I want details. We always share details.”

“Roxie?” That question attracted their attention around. A short woman stood just at her back. “Are you Roxie? Lomond’s Delight?”

Another passing woman paused to look at her twice. “Oh my God! Yeah, you’re that woman from the news… Roger, get over here.”

“We’re just trying to have—”

“Hey!” Trevor said, stomping up to put himself between her and the women. “Back off.”

“Trevor,” Roxie said, laying a hand on his arm.

As she did, it became clear the two women weren’t the only ones to have noticed her. A guy, she guessed Roger, was on his way over with a half dozen others. Around the bar, people glanced their way. Whispering. Gawping.

“Shit,” she murmured.

In her time with Crimson, Zairn made the rules. Sometimes she complained, but he’d kept her in the VIP zones. Protected. Another thing she’d taken for granted.

People moved on from glancing and got to moving. Some pulled out cellphones and aimed them her way, others left their seats.

“Miss Kyst,” Trevor said over his shoulder, still facing the bar.

“I see it,” she said, hopping off the stool. “I’m going to get out of here.”

“What?” Jane asked. “We just got here.”

She had an eye for it. Now she did. Zairn had a sixth sense with women, apparently, and was practiced enough to anticipate situations like these. She hadn’t given him enough credit on that score, in jest more than reality. Zairn was incredibly smart.

Watching the crowd move closer, hearing her name on so many lips… Her own limited experience was enough to recognize the calamity careening toward them.

“Miss Kyst,” Trevor said again with more warning.

“I’ll send the car back for you,” she said, taking her purse from the table and kissing both of her friends. “Have fun. I won’t wait up.”

When Trevor and his guys surrounded her, some confidence returned. For bitching about what Zairn insisted on, in that moment, she was supremely grateful. Strangers with alcohol in them, spirits running high, anything could happen.

It would die down. The interest. Eventually. Soon. Society would forget about the gossip of her association with Zairn Lomond, long before she forgot her time with him.

Being bundled out of the bar and into the car, all she could think about was him. It wasn’t the same without him. Without Crimson.

Exhaling, she closed her eyes and let her head drop against the backrest. If there were pictures, he’d see them… if he cared to look. She smiled. He’d have his validation. They both knew it. Yes, he’d been right: security was a good call. Thank goodness he wasn’t close by to torment her about that.

Although… naughty thoughts dialed her smile to saucy… It wouldn’t be such a bad thing to be teased by him… again. That part of her life might be over, but she could still fantasize. Nothing wrong with that. Harmless.

Like she’d once told Astrid, people all over the world dreamed of Zairn Lomond. Having some real-life memories to call on put her in prime position to wake her senses. Him above her… inside her. With mental images like those, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to have the apartment to herself for a while.

THREE

The easiest way to find her ex was to visit his workplace. Sometimes his being a workaholic paid dividends. Not when she wanted to go places while they were together, no; but tracking him down was always easy.

His high-profile case kept him busy. While she’d love to distract him from the trial-that-could-get-him-killed, talking on the phone hadn’t gotten her anywhere. Face-to-face was next on the list, so she texted him to arrange dinner, giving him no option to refuse.

The throng of reporters outside her building had increased overnight. Not all of them were official reporters. Some were citizens with blogs. Others, influencers.

The real surprise was the number of fans congregating. People who’d watched her streams. The determined autograph hunters mentioned Zairn as often as possible. Coming up with non-answer answers grew difficult. In the end, it was easier to depart with apologies. Thank God she had a date. Not a date, date, but somewhere to be.

Despite the delays, Roxie was on time and waiting on the sidewalk when Porter finally emerged from the side exit he always used. Arms folded, her brow crooked, Roxie wasn’t in the mood to give him a break.

“Hey! You look good, RoRo,” Porter said, putting a hand on her arm as he bowed to kiss the corner of her mouth.

“You really have the balls to smile at me?”

“I can tell you haven’t had a drink yet.” Porter pulled her into a hug. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’m surprised you noticed I wasn’t around,” Roxie said, just looking at his hand when he offered it. “Do you think I want to socialize with a hitman’s target?”

He opened his arms. “I’m fine. Do I look worried?”

Unfortunately, he was smiling, which increased her concern. “You’re a complacent idiot.”

Porter glanced at the car a few feet away and the goons loitering nearby. “These yours?”

“We can walk,” she said. “They’ll keep up. Don’t change the subject.”

“What was the subject?”

“You being a complacent idiot.”

“We know it was Joey,” Porter said, putting an arm around her to guide her along the street. “We’ve got him. We know it.”

“Won’t make much difference if you’re dead.”

“You tried that line already,” Porter said. “This is a make or break case for my career.”

“Yeah, and why the hell are you thinking about running for office? You’re planning to steal Tim’s job? He’s always been good to us.”

“I have great respect for SA Tim Unst.”

“You’re thirty-five. That’s practically a teenager in SA terms.”

“Yeah, I’m a kid,” he scoffed.

“You are. Why would you—”

“The idea of congress has been floated.”

“Jesus, Porter.” She stopped to look at him, amazed he was the same man who’d shared her bed. “Since when do you care about politics?”

“It’s something I always thought about, you know, in the back of my mind,” he said, taking her hand when they started walking again. “I didn’t think it would be a possibility, not for another few years. This case has accelerated plans, that’s all.”

“Then you didn’t think through dating me,” she said. “Do you think I could be a congressman’s wife? I don’t like kissing babies… Okay, well, kissing them is fine, but it’s a downer listening to everyone’s problems all day long, cutting ribbons, giving speeches, yawn.”

“Wasn’t the reason we broke up that you didn’t want to be anyone’s wife?”

She inhaled, ready to object, but his point was valid. “I could be a mistress. I’d be an excellent mistress.”

“I’ll call you if I get voted in… Though your recent notoriety would be helpful, you know, in a campaign… if we were together.”

“If we were together,” she said, emphasizing the first word, “there’s no way my flying around the world touring nightclubs would be a plus for any political campaign.”

“I’ve heard a lot about Lomond. That he has connections in Washington.”

The way Porter let that hang implied he expected a response. Roxie waited a few extra beats before speaking. “He never mentioned anyone to me.”

“Did you part on good terms? The video suggested you were friendly.”

As people loved to speculate about out loud. “I’m moving forward with my life, Porter. Onward and upward.”

“He’s influential. He could sponsor an event, invite his contacts to—”

“The closest Crimson is in Manhattan. Why would a New Yorker care about Chicago politics?”

“He must know people in Chicago.”

“Why are we talking about him?” she asked. “You’re deflecting. I came down to find out when you’re giving up the Gambatto thing. Because until you do, I’m stuck with my shadows.”

She nodded backward to Trevor and his colleague tailing them.

Porter glanced back. “I won’t give it up,” he said. “I’m going to talk you through it. When you hear about the relationship Gambatto had with the victim, how he treated her, you’ll be behind me. I guarantee it.”

“I thought you were taking me out for dinner.”

“We’re going back to the hotel.”

She groaned. “If we were going to eat in somewhere, you could’ve come over to mine. I’m hungry. I want to eat.”

“We’ll order room service. Toria and Jane don’t know how to butt out when you’re entertaining.”

“It’s their apartment too,” she said. “They’re social. Sue them.”

“They don’t give you privacy. Anyway, your luggage will drive me crazy.”

“My luggage?” she asked.

He glanced her way. “You got in yesterday and haven’t unpacked yet.”

“How do you know?”

He smiled at her. “Have you?” Roxie didn’t respond. “I know you, RoRo.”

“Okay, you’re so clever. Maybe law wasn’t your calling, you should be a detective.”

He laughed. “You’re my specialist subject. I take comfort in your predictability… Have you got your phone?”

“The battery’s dead…” Roxie’s words trailed off. “Fine, okay, I’m predictable. Let’s get inside and be predictable there. I want food.”

Porter could try to convince her, but Roxie wasn’t ready to change her mind. Gambatto was dangerous. Details of his violence wouldn’t better her opinion of him. Porter could talk all night. It wouldn’t erase the trouble looming on the horizon.

FOUR

“Where have you been?” Jane screeched the moment Roxie walked into their apartment.

“Dinner with Porter. I told you I was—”

“We were calling and calling,” Toria said from the couch.

Jane hurried over and put an arm around her to rush her across the room.

“My phone died,” Roxie said. “What’s going…?”

The television. Talk at Sunset. The audience going wild. Oh, this was familiar. Zairn. Damn, he appeared through the curtain hot as ever. Some things would never change. The man was delicious. Even after a day of business, a night at the club, and screwing her a couple of times, he always managed to remain deliciously hot. Oh so hot.

He raised a hand in greeting, sending the rapture of those present through the roof. Drew Harvey went to meet him. The two men shook hands and exchanged a few quiet words on their walk to the couch.

With much less decorum, Jane pushed her onto the middle seat of their couch and sat down next to her. Toria waved the end of a phone charger in her face. Without taking her attention from the screen, Roxie dumped her purse and connected the phone to the charger.

“Zairn! Zairn!” Drew Harvey called over the audience, though that only got them cheering louder.

The host laughed. Zairn, by contrast, sat there wearing the smoldering smug expression that betrayed his confidence. He was getting exactly the reaction he expected; exactly the one he adored.

“Asshole,” she whispered, pulling her feet onto the couch to fold her legs in front of her.

“Why the hell didn’t we think about getting tickets?” Toria asked. “You could’ve gotten tickets!”

Maybe. No. Roxie couldn’t be anywhere near that studio.

“My friend,” Drew said, reaching over to pat Zairn’s knee as the audience calmed. “Geez, how are you not deaf already?”

“I live my life at this volume,” Zairn called over the audience and held up a flat hand to them. “Thank you. Thank you, that’s enough.”

The audience accepted his instruction and quieted. No surprise. He was like the people whisperer when he used that low, soothing voice.

“Wow,” Drew Harvey said. “That’s some superpower.”

Zairn raised a shoulder and sank back to relax on the couch. “Years of practice.”

“Controlling hordes of people in your clubs,” Harvey said. “Talking of controlling people, there’s supposed to be someone there next to you.” Both men looked at the vacant seat. The comedian at the other end of the couch fixated on it too. “You couldn’t persuade Miss Kyst to join you?”

As he turned back to the host, one side of Zairn’s mouth rose, but he licked his lips to hide the reaction. Something he frequently did, though it wasn’t often successful. Especially when she was the root of his amusement.

“No one persuades Miss Kyst to do anything she doesn’t want to do.”

He straightened his tie over his shirt buttons, which made her look at it for the first time. “The tie,” she murmured.

It was the same one she’d tied for him on the day they met Greg and his colleagues in Boston.

“She didn’t want to come?” Drew Harvey asked.

“Miss Kyst has done plenty for Crimson,” Zairn said. “She prefers to deliver her messages through her stream.”

“Present tense?” the host asked. “Will she be continuing her streams? She was extremely popular and drove record numbers of users to your website.”

“I think she’s eager to return to life as normal.”

“You think? Have you discussed it with her?”

“Personally? No,” Zairn said. No, because who had time to talk when the alternative was crazy, hot sex? “The Crimson Tour was taxing for all of us.”

“But you’re not getting a break. You’re on your way back to New York, to get the club ready for its New Year’s Eve opening, aren’t you?”

“Not yet,” Zairn said. “We have to check out a few potential sites for the next Crimson location, and there’s unfinished business in Tokyo.”

“That’s right. You missed Tokyo, Miss Kyst was ill.”

“That’s correct.”

“Calling her ‘Miss Kyst’ feels too formal. She’s been in our living rooms, our bedrooms. She became a friend to all of us. Do you think she’d object to us calling her Roxanne?”

“She wouldn’t. Though it’s not her name,” Zairn said. “She goes by Roxie.”

“Roxie, okay,” Harvey said. “Sorry, Roxie…” He glanced at the camera for the apology and then returned his focus to the guest. “There’s so much we have to get through that blurting this out is—”

“Roxie and I have dealt with many direct and insensitive questions about our relationship. We were friends. We had good fun. She’s an easy woman to get along with… most of the time.”

“And did you…” Drew raised his brows and bobbed his head, suggesting something more intimate.

“If I had, do you think I’d talk about it here on national television, Drew?” Zairn asked, easy and relaxed as he teased the host.

“She’s an attractive woman.”

“Gorgeous,” Zairn said. “Any man would be lucky to have her affection.”

“But you didn’t…”

Zairn laughed. “Let’s talk about your social life… when was the last time—”

“Okay,” Harvey said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Just doing my job here, man.”

The two of them laughed off the interaction, but Roxie noticed the twitch of tension in Zairn’s shoulder.

“Relax,” she whispered. “It’s not personal.”

Drew Harvey turned to the camera. “We have to take a quick break now, but there will be plenty more from Zairn next, don’t go anywhere.”

As the show went to break, her phone vibrated in her lap, indicating it was turning on again.

“Okay, now you have to dish the dirt,” Toria said.

“He got offended when Drew Harvey got her name wrong,” Jane said. “Did you notice that?”

Scrolling through her phone, Roxie found a certain woman’s name and pressed call.

It rang just four times before Astrid picked up. “Roxie?”

“Who chose the tie?” she asked with a smile on her face.

“I, uh… I don’t know. Are you watching?”

“Yes,” Roxie said. “He needs to relax. They’ll move on to Kesley and Vegas next.”

“I think he’s doing great,” Astrid said. “We worried he’d blow the whole interview. He’s been snappy all day.”

“Tired,” Roxie said, closing her eyes. That was no excuse; Zairn was used to operating on little sleep. “Are you flying out tonight?”

“In the morning,” Astrid said. “Kesley’s waiting at the club for him.” Of course she was. Kesley needed support and leaned on Zairn. Roxie understood. He was a capable guy and excelled at taking care of people. “Have you seen the pictures?”

“Pictures?” Roxie asked, frowning. “What pictures?”

“Of you and your ex going into his hotel earlier.”

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “Those people need to get a life.”

“Mr. Lomond wanted me to call you about additional security. If you’re going to be socializing with the man prosecuting the case, he thinks you should have close quarter protection.”

“I don’t care what he thinks,” Roxie said. “I won’t live my life in fear. Someone should take Joseph Gambatto down. What he did to that woman… what she lived through was horrific.”

“I don’t know what… Maybe you should talk to Mr. Lomond about it.”

“If Z wanted to talk to me, he wouldn’t have asked you to make the call,” Roxie said. Why was such a fury heating her blood? “I don’t want his security. I don’t want his help. I got on just fine before him and plan to do the same after him.”

She hung up and stood, extricating herself from the charger cord to march toward her room.

“Roxie!” Toria called after her.

“I don’t give a damn,” Roxie said without slowing down. “Watch, don’t watch. I’ve had my fill of Crimson and Zairn Lomond. I’m done. I’m through.”

There was no reason for her to be angry about Zairn’s words or him farming her out to Astrid. They needed space. On the day they’d parted, she’d declared there would be no calls from her to him. She had no intention of going back on her word. That was it. Over.

FIVE

Was it mortifying? Yes. Did it have to be done? Yes.

After snapping at Astrid during Talk at Sunset, Roxie had little choice except to call the assistant and prostrate herself. A couple of days had gone by, but it still plagued her mind.

With the apartment to herself, there wouldn’t be a better time. On the floor between the couch and the coffee table, the ring of the phone droned in her ear.

The seconds dragged.

“Come on,” she murmured. “Pick up… Please…”

Another few days without talking to Astrid might drive her nuts.

“Roxie?”

Surprise jerked her. “You picked up.”

“Yes. Are you okay?”

“Am I…” Trust the young woman to be concerned rather than mad. “Astrid,” Roxie moaned. “I was horrible to you. Be pissed at me.”

“I’m not, I…” Astrid said. “It can’t be easy for you, what you’re going through.”

“What I’m going through?”

There was a pause. “You were close to him… A part of everything here and now you’re not. If it was taken away from me, I’d be devastated.”

Having tried to focus on happier things, she moved the conversation along. “You’re in Tokyo?”

“Yes,” Astrid said. “Right now, but… Something happened, I don’t know what. Miss Walsh was emotional and… We’re flying to Perth in a few hours.”

“Perth, Australia?”

“Yes.”

Weird. There was no Crimson in Perth. Maybe it was one of the potential sites for the next club. With all of Zairn’s various business interests, the possibilities were endless. Kesley’s involvement tossed in a hoard of variables too. Were they going for Zairn or for Kesley?

It was sweet of Astrid to trust her with new information. Flattering even. Still, a smidge of concern crept in. Astrid was too trusting. That could get all of them in trouble sometime.

“He’ll be in New York for Thanksgiving… Sean said we might get home.”

Thanksgiving was over two weeks away. They wouldn’t be in the country for a while. Zairn’s lifestyle wasn’t conducive to sticking around in one place for long. It was a wonder he bothered with apartments anywhere. Maybe it was just convenience. Everyone needed a mailing address, even billionaires.

“That’s good.”

“Sean won’t leave Mr. Lomond if he’s alone, he never does over the holidays, ever,” Astrid said. “Kesley talked about hosting in New York. There’s a professional kitchen at their disposal.”

“Makes sense,” Roxie said.

A nibble of discomfort tickled her shoulders. It wasn’t jealousy, but it was something. Being on the outside was strange.

“Sean said Mr. Lomond would fly in everyone’s families. There are a few hotel room floors in the flagship building… I could ask Sean if you could—”

“No! No, God, no,” Roxie said, laughing off the suggestion. “I have to go to my crazy folks’ and I wouldn’t wish them on anyone… I was a contest winner. We’re not family. I don’t expect to see him again… ever.”

Why was the confidence fading from her words? Nothing she said was false. They hadn’t become family just because they spent a few weeks together. Stone’s prediction rang true. With her back in her natural habitat, all lives were returning to normal.

“I don’t think he’s sleeping with her,” Astrid said into the lingering silence. “Sean said he needs some time. His mood’s been off… in case you were… wondering.”

Most people would’ve thought she and Zairn weren’t sleeping together during their eleven days. An outsider may have said Zairn’s mood was off during that time too. He’d shut everyone out, said little, and seized on every opportunity they had to be alone.

Not that it mattered. Eleven days was eleven days, and it was over.

“I called to apologize for my behavior. You didn’t deserve what I said to you. I appreciate everything you and Crimson did for me.”

“Rox—”

“My invitation stands. If you’re ever in Chicago, looking for a good time, drop by. I’d love to see you.”

“We’re not often by that way,” Astrid said. “You could still call.”

“You’re busy, God knows you are. If you need tips on givin’ ‘em hell, call me. You have a big life to live, Astrid Ballard. Live it well and to the max. Anything is possible. You’re a badass, don’t forget that.”

“You’re an amazing person, Rox.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, shrugging it off. “I’m an A-plus badass. Make me proud.”

“I’ll try… bye.”

The phone stayed at her ear until the line died. Only then did her hand sink to her lap. An A-plus badass? More like a world class fool. There was no tomorrow with Astrid. Their connection dwindled to nothing the moment she’d stepped off Zairn’s plane.

Life would be as it always was… Except she wasn’t the same. Who was she? What had changed? More to the point, how did she go back to the way things used to be? Who was Roxie Kyst post-Zairn Lomond? Post-Crimson? Post-eleven days and incredible mile-high sex? It didn’t matter. Even if she didn’t feel normal, she’d fake it. Eventually, it would become real… right?

SIX

Thanksgiving landed exactly three weeks after she stepped off the Zee-Jet. As usual, her family was crazy. Their consistency was a comfort. Without knowing it, they offered some distraction from lingering thoughts of him. Christmas was about the same. The holidays kept her busy.

Almost eight weeks had passed since she’d seen or had direct contact with Zairn. Not that she was counting the days or anything. Gradually, time was doing its work. Reporters didn’t crowd outside her building anymore. Sometimes a fan might be out there, and people recognized her on the street once in a while. Hence her continued avoidance of crowds.

Ditching security altogether wasn’t an option. Trevor told her that all the time… He wasn’t as good as Ballard. Giving security the slip was easier after they stopped standing outside her front door. They’d walk the block or wander the building. Personally, she believed Trevor had his eye on another tenant. No doubt the hottie on the fourth floor.

Relinquishing the Mercedes had been a no-brainer. At first, the driver didn’t take the hint. She’d gone two whole weeks ignoring the car on her curb before it vanished.

Life was returning to how it should be. Normality would be waiting just around the corner.

On the twenty-ninth of December, her girls decided a shopping spree was in order. Yeah, not a good idea. Her credit card had seen enough action, so she sent them on their way alone.

Lying on the couch, reading, her roommates came barreling back into the apartment.

“It’s way too short,” Jane was saying, her vibrant voice brimming with excitement.

“You have to be daring! It’s Crimson,” Toria said. They dumped their bags at the back of the couch and noticed her spread out on it. “Rox, will you tell her she has to dress sexy for Crimson?”

“It’s not a requirement,” Roxie said, turning the page of her book.

Though there may be spot underwear checks… She subdued her smile. Her friends wouldn’t get the joke. In fact, it would get her into trouble.

“What are you going to wear, Rox?” Jane asked. “Can we see your dress?”

“She has the most amazing dresses paid for by the Crimson King himself,” Toria said. “She’s spoiled for choice.”

“You can raid my closet,” Roxie said, preferring to think of him as the Crimson Emperor. “There are a few sexy, slinky numbers.”

“Which one are you planning to wear?”

“For what?”

“New York,” Toria said, propping a hip on the back of the couch.

“New York?”

“Yeah, New Year’s Eve,” Toria said. “You do remember that New Year comes like a week after Christmas.” Actually, she’d been trying to forget about the next major event in the calendar. “According to the email I got from the Talk at Sunset people, the train takes like an entire day. We have to show up at the station tomorrow. Our tickets will be waiting there for us.”

That mental picture put a smile on her face. “Zairn Lomond never took a train a day in his life.”

“Well, we wouldn’t know,” Toria said, coming around the couch to sit on the edge of the coffee table facing her. “Since you refuse to talk about him.”

“I know I keep saying you shouldn’t kiss and tell…” Jane said, skirting the couch to sit by her feet. “But there’s a chance we’ll meet him at the party.”

“Yeah, if we have to cover for you, it would be good to know why,” Toria said. “Was he an asshole? Did he get drunk and feel you up?”

“That’s in the past, guys.”

Toria growled in frustration. “That’s what you always say!”

Jane scooted up the couch to sit at her hip. “Did you get drunk and feel him up?”

“Yeah,” Toria said. “Because if you did, I wouldn’t worry about it. Women probably grope him all the time. I would.”

Not inaccurate; not something it was fun to dwell on either.

“If it’s something like that, you could always use the New Year’s party to apologize. He didn’t seem mad at you that time on Talk at Sunset.”

“He’s not mad at me, and I’m not mad at him,” Roxie said. “No one has to apologize for anything, which is why there’s no need for me to go to the party.”

“What?” her friends hollered.

Sitting up, she slipped a bookmark in between the pages.

“You have to go,” Jane pleaded. “Why didn’t you tell us this when we talked about it before?”

The party had come up about fifty times in the last month.

“What are you hiding?” Toria asked.