Wretched Soul (Wretched #2)

Chapter 1

Lily

Iswerve lanes, if only for a change of view in the rush hour traffic clogging the Kennedy Expressway.

My day has been dark enough without staring at the rear of a black SUV when there’s an autumn sunset catching in the skies above Chicago.

It’s not only the fiery wisps of cloud in a dark, brooding sky that are simmering. I’m fucking furious.

“I’m not losing my job because of that asshole,” I hiss, glaring at the caller ID on my car’s console. Kaitlyn is my closest friend, and she’ll always have my back in the viper’s nest we call an office.

My fingers tighten around the steering wheel of my shiny new Audi – or at least new to me. It was a stretch financially, but it’s the nicest car I’ve ever owned, and it handles like a dream. In the last month, I’ve spent my weekends either cruising in it, or polishing the flawless white paintwork.

“I don’t know how Connor gets away with it,” Kaitlyn says. “The guy actually made it sound like he was defending you. Seriously, Lily, I don’t know what you ever saw in him.”

I press my foot on the gas, closing the gap with the truck in front. I’m driving too fast for the slow-moving traffic and have to slam on the brakes when we come to another standstill.

“It was momentary madness,” I reply. “And in my defense, I was already trying to let him down gently after the first date.” Or maybe the second.

I should never have slept with him, but it was the quickest way to confirm that we really weren’t compatible – extremely quick in Connor’s case.

“In hindsight, I should have just taken him up to the roof terrace and pushed him off.”

I’ve been working my ass off for Walter Royston for the last two years, and when Connor joined the accounting firm back in the summer, I foolishly offered to be his mentor.

On the face of it, we had a lot in common.

We’re both twenty-eight, qualified as accountants at the same time, and moved states to improve our career prospects.

And it helped that he’s undeniably attractive, if not a little too blond and pretty.

I swallow back the bitter taste of regret.

I would never have been so generous with my time or affections if I’d known he was going to poach my clients.

I’d spent months on the Sanderson account only for Walter to announce this morning that Connor would be taking it over.

Issues had been flagged apparently, and my client had asked for Connor personally, because of course they knew him. I’d let Connor sit in on our meetings.

It was only afterwards, when I’d looked into the issues raised, that I realized the errors in the paperwork had been Connor’s.

But according to Kaitlyn, who’s Walter’s PA, the sneaky fucker had taken our boss to one side and asked him to make allowances for my mistakes.

He’d explained that I was still coming to terms with our break-up.

“If you can tempt Connor up to the roof, I’ll keep watch,” Kaitlyn promises.

“I’ll give it some serious consideration.”

As I wait for the traffic to start moving again, I reach across the passenger seat for my purse and the chocolate bar that’s become my regular Monday treat. It’s just what I need to swallow back the bile in my throat.

The chocolate has softened in the heat, so I unwrap it inside my purse rather than risk getting smudges on the car’s upholstery. Breaking off a square, I let it melt on my tongue and close my eyes.

Kaitlyn laughs. She heard me groan. “And now I’m thinking maybe you like the prospect of murder a little too much.”

“Ghirardelli,” I say, without further explanation.

“Salted caramel?” My friend knows all my weaknesses, including my favorite chocolate bar.

I hum my confirmation as I suck the chocolate off my fingers.

When I open my eyes, the truck in front has pulled away, and I tap the gas to close the gap.

The smile fighting against my foul mood freezes as I’m forced to brake hard when another car cuts in with only inches to spare.

And then the asshole in front slams on his brakes – because I’m damn sure it’s a man. It’s a miracle I don’t hit him.

“You motherfucking, jerk-off of an absolute son-of-a-bitch!” I yell as my body ricochets between my seat belt and my seat. I glower at the tinted rear window of a black SUV. It has to be the same one I was stuck behind earlier.

“Lily, are you OK?”

“The asshole cut me off!” I seethe, slamming the heel of my hand into the center of the steering wheel. The car horn blares as my heart hammers. “I could have gone into the back of him. If he dared put a single scratch on my baby, I would have… I swear my body count today would have just doubled.”

“But you didn’t hit him,” Kaitlyn points out, slowly and calmly. “So you don’t have to… hit him.”

My jaw tenses painfully as I clench my teeth. I refuse to be stuck behind this car for another damn minute, but the lanes on both sides of me offer no escape because we’ve all come to another grinding halt.

My gaze flicks to movement on the driver’s side of the SUV.

The window has been lowered and a suit-clad arm appears.

When the driver extends his middle finger to the sky, there’s no doubt the gesture is intended for me.

From the size of the asshole’s thick arm, he’s an overweight, middle-aged slob who must have a death wish.

“If he wants a fucking fight, he’s got one,” I grind out as my anger takes on a life of its own.

My blood boils and my vision blisters to red. It’s as if I have no control over my body as I pull on the door handle.

“Lily, please don’t say you’ve just opened your door! Are you still on the Expressway? Do not get out of the car. Do you hear me, Lily? Lily!”

Kaitlyn’s voice fades as I stalk towards the elbow that’s now resting on the ledge of the SUV’s open window. The driver’s suit is dark blue and screams expensive, and as I draw closer, I see the guy’s reflection in his side mirror. Dark green eyes follow my progress.

“Are you fucking serious?” I yell as I come alongside him.

The driver’s expression is unreadable as he turns his head to me.

My gaze remains fixed on the mirror and his reflection, and the stupid part of my brain that isn’t consumed by unbridled fury decides now would be a good time to admire his profile.

He looks to be in his late twenties, with sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw, but my gaze is drawn to the tantalizing hint of a tattoo hidden beneath the crisp white collar of his shirt.

Not an office slob then. The guy had only looked bulky because he’s so goddamn ripped.

The wind picks up and my hair whips across my face.

As I’m tucking loose locks behind my ears, I notice him appraising me too, his gaze trailing up and down my body shamelessly.

I’m wearing grey slacks and a silk blouse, or I was until I felt myself being mentally undressed.

I tell myself it’s just the cold that’s turned my nipples into hardened bullets.

Screw him. I fold my arms and turn to face my latest nemesis head on.

“You couldn’t wait for two damn minutes for your lane to move on?

Do you have to be that guy? In case you hadn’t noticed, none of us are going anywhere fast!

” When he simply stares back, I’m forced to continue my verbal assault.

“We all want to get off this godforsaken expressway, so show some fucking courtesy to your fellow drivers, and we might all get home in one piece!”

As he drums his fingers against his steering wheel, common sense starts to kick in. His brooding silence is a loud warning, and I should go back to my car and forget this jerk. But damn it, I need some kind of response from him. An apology would be nice but, judging by his cold eyes, unlikely.

“Have you ever thought of upgrading your car to one that has blinkers? I hear most cars have them now,” I continue. My voice has an unexpected scratch, and I make up for the tell that I’m weakening by throwing in an expletive. “Asshole.”

He leaves an excruciating pause as he analyzes every detail of my face. “You can see with your eyes closed?” he asks. His voice is smooth, but has an edge that’s razor sharp. He’d seen me enjoying the sweetness of the chocolate that’s now a distant memory on my tongue.

I jut out a hip. “I saw you cut me off clear enough. I almost went into the back of you.”

“Your vehicle was stationary when I maneuvered. You should pay better attention,” he says, tipping his head to where our lane has started clearing. “Now, for fuck’s sake, stop holding up traffic and get back in your car.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m going,” I huff, but I hesitate, caught in his stare. I swallow hard. “Just keep out of my way, or you’ll regret it.”

I turn on my heels, and don’t look back as I retreat to my Audi.

I’d left the driver’s door wide open and I have to close it to avoid stepping into the neighboring lane of moving traffic.

I can hear curses from the car behind. The driver jabs a finger through the open window and yells something at me.

When I glare at him, his hand quickly retreats and the cursing stops.

I’m briefly pleased with myself until a shadow falls across my shoulder.

When I spin around, I’m eye level with a broad chest hidden beneath a white button-down and a dark blue suit jacket. I tip my head and stare up into deep green eyes.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he growls. “You do not get out of your car to start an argument with a complete fucking stranger. Not in the middle of the expressway, or anywhere else for that matter. I could have pulled a gun on you, or just dragged you into my car. Do you have any idea how many psychos are driving around Chicago?”

I have to unstick my tongue from the roof of my suddenly dry mouth, but once again, good sense evades me. “I’m guessing one less since you got out of your car.”

His jaw twitches and he leans in so we’re almost nose to nose. “Exactly.”