1. Piper
1
PIPER
I absolutely hated driving, yet here I was, sausaged in my roommate’s grandmother’s barely touched Toyota, gripping the wheel with sweaty palms as I navigated Manhattan’s morning rush.
I was a dedicated subway girlie, but my latest photography gig—product shots for a new bro-centric energy drink start-up that had names like Thunderball Throat Crusher and Ballistic Tea Bagger—left me no choice.
They couldn’t afford to rent a studio space for the shoot, so I, a freelancer desperate for work, had agreed to cart my backdrop and lighting rig to their office.
I started doubting my judgment by the time I finally navigated into the subterranean garage beneath their office. They had promised I wouldn’t have any trouble finding a parking space, but they hadn’t mentioned that the driving lane in the garage was so ridiculously tight I could barely turn the corners as I descended deeper under the city streets.
I kept telling myself I was a good driver, that I wasn’t going to accidentally nick that Mercedes hanging too far out or scrape one of the massive cement support pillars as I crawled by. I needed to find a damn parking spot now , before my latent claustrophobia got the best of me.
I sighed in frustration. What the hell was I doing with my life? Why had I agreed to play pack mule for an entire studio’s worth of equipment to a shoot that barely paid for my gas?
Desperation. That was why. I had a dream and the drive, all that was missing were the dollars.
After spiraling down what felt like a dozen levels, I finally spied an open spot, mercifully right next to the elevator. There was a red sportscar idling beyond it that looked like it had just pulled out. Score! My day was looking up.
But maybe it was too good to be true? I quickly scanned the wall for a handicap parking sign or anything that would suggest the space was reserved, but there was nothing.
Yup. Lady Luck was finally smiling on me.
I cranked the wheel to make the ninety-degree turn only to get an air raid blast of a horn from the red car. Huh? The space was clearly open for the taking, and that’s exactly what I was doing. I eased closer, trying not to clip the parked cars on either side, not realizing the red car was backing up at the same time, until?—
Crash !
I gasped in shock at the impact. The asshole actually hit me!
A figure got out of the car slowly, and based on his rigid vibe, he knew he’d fucked up. He inspected his car, and the furrows in his forehead etched deeper. A frown, a jaw clench…yeah, he was pissed. He met my gaze through the windshield, narrowing his eyes and—hold on, was he mad at me ?
The main thought in my head was how someone so gigantic could fold himself into a car so tiny. It had to be a case of little car, big… attitude . He finally made his way over to my window, and I braced for a second impact.
“Do you not have eyes ?” he growled at me, like he was barely containing his fury. “I was literally right there, and you drove right into me. What the fucking fuck ? I’ll have you know this is a Bugatti Chiron.”
Oh absolutely not. There was no way I was going to take his revisionist history. I fumbled with the door handle, reducing the dramatic effect of the angry beatdown I was about to deliver, and finally managed to stumble out of the car.
Once I was toe to toe with him, I had to pretend I didn’t get a little shiver from his bright blue eyes boring into mine. The man looked like one of those sexy villains you knew you were supposed to hate but couldn’t resist, all cheekbones and hard jawline. He was in head-to-toe black, like a hate-fuckable Beelzebub. Which, on any other day, would’ve been hella my type, but he ruined the effect by being such a gigantic dick. So rather than drooling over that face and body the way I normally would, I was foaming at the mouth with fury. I’d promised to be careful with the car, and now this demon in a black suit had ruined everything.
And made me late.
“Uh, look again, Satan. You hit me ,” I insisted, pointing at the cars to underscore what I knew for a fact. “You saw me pulling in!”
“Into my spot,” he said as he pointed at the wall while still staring at me. “And I absolutely did not see you because I never assumed anyone would be stupid enough to take my spot.”
I glanced to where he was pointing. “I’m sorry, can you show me exactly where it says ‘asshole only’ parking? Or do you expect people to be psychic and just magically know that Mr. Big Stuff likes to park here?”
He opened his mouth to seethe at me again and froze.
“Where’s my goddamned sign?”
I walked closer to where the two cars were crunched together. “The sign that you need driving lessons? Right here.” I pointed to the destroyed bumper.
He blew out an angry breath. “This is my private parking spot. I own it.”
“Ha! You might think your fancy car gives you special privileges, but that doesn’t mean this little bit of cement actually belongs to you.”
“This little bit…” I was finally getting to him. “I’ll have you know I own this entire fucking building.”
I laughed in his face. “Oh my god, do you think I’m that dumb? If you owned this building, you wouldn’t be fighting for a parking space in this subterranean hellhole—you’d have a chauffeur. But you know what? I wish that was true, because then right now you’d be whisked right to the entrance to head straight to your private, no-peons-allowed elevator, and I wouldn’t be running late for my very important appointment.”
“ You’re late?” he scoffed. “What could you possibly be late for? It looks like you’re living in your car. If that’s the case, don’t even think about trying to camp out in this garage.”
He pointed at the equipment-filled car, and I fidgeted a little. Okay, maybe it looked a little hoarder-adjacent, but I certainly didn’t look like one. I was dressed for physical work, but I’d put make-up on and attempted to tidy up my hair for a change. I’d felt cute when I left my apartment, but the way this demon was staring me down made it clear I must’ve sweated my mascara off during the drive.
I mean, the way he was watching me was downright unnerving . He never took his eyes off me, like he thought I was going to try to carjack him.
As if I’d ever want a car so stupid-small. Where would I put groceries? Hell, where would I put my purse ?
“I’m late for real work,” he continued before I could defend myself.
“And what’s your ‘real work’?” Something that let him collect souls as payment, no doubt. “Divorce attorney? Crisis PR for athletes with drug problems?”
“Not even close.” He smirked at me. “In any case, this conversation is over. I’m having security sent down to deal with you.”
He pulled out his phone and punched the screen, then walked away without another word.
“Excuse me!” I screamed at his retreating form. “You’re just leaving your car smashed into mine? I need your insurance information. Don’t you dare walk away from me! What’s your name? I’m Piper Doyle; who are you, for fuck’s sake?”
I reached him right as the elevator doors opened.
“My name?” The stranger’s smile looked downright sinister. “Why don’t you walk your pretty little self out to the sidewalk and look up at the top of the building you’re standing in. It’s right there.”
Pretty? Did he just call me pretty ? I felt a flush spread over my cheeks. Given how furious he seemed, complimenting me was definitely accidental.
Then the crash test dummy in black had the audacity to wink at me, right as the elevator doors closed.
VINCENT
I could finally breathe again. Now that security was on the way down to deal with the legally blind driver, I could focus on the rest of the stressors in my life. They could sort out who was in the wrong—I didn’t have the time or inclination to worry about it.
I’d given my driver Billy the day off, and I’d thought driving to work in my brand-new baby would be a nice kickstart to my day. So much for that. Instead of showing up to work with my head clear, ready to take on the world, I was worked up, pissed off…and horny as hell, all thanks to the freakishly gorgeous blonde spitfire who’d hit me and had the nerve to blame me for it.
I replayed the moment of impact in my mind. I was distracted, sure. Maybe I’d backed up without looking, but I wasn’t about to admit that to her, or anyone.
Vincent Forde didn’t make mistakes. Or rather, Vincent Forde couldn’t make mistakes. Especially not now, when everything felt so up in the air.
Truth be told, it wasn’t just the wildcat in the Toyota throwing me off balance today. Sure, the way she fought back did something to me, but I was in no headspace to spar no matter how beautiful—and annoying—my adversary.
I sighed and stared at the floor. I couldn’t stop beating myself up for not visiting Nana Dee in the hospital. She wasn’t my blood relative, but after half a lifetime of her looking out for me it sure felt like she was. My Cornell buddy Trent, her actual grandson, had sworn she had round-the-clock company, and her luxurious private hospital room was packed, but I still felt bad about not being there.
She’d been rushed to the hospital after a fall the night before, and I’d been worried sick about her all morning. Nana Dee had been in my life since Christmas of freshman year, when she’d opened her home to a trio of teenagers—only one of whom was related to her—after a baggage handlers’ strike had closed all of the airports. That holiday in Long Island with Nana Dee and my friends Trent and Aiden remained one of my most cherished memories.
So not driving out to check on her last night? Yeah, that was a mistake.
A text came through, and I clawed at my phone to check it. Finally , the news I’d been waiting for from Trent.
“All of Nana Dee’s scans came back clear. It’s just a bad sprain. She thinks she fell because she skipped breakfast and was lightheaded. They’re going to keep her till tomorrow just to be safe”.
I let out a sigh of relief. Now that I knew she was okay, the tension in my temples eased a bit.
I finally reached the top floor and strode off the elevator. Summit Fragrances buzzed with activity, no doubt because we were on the cusp of a major reveal.
Well, if I could do my goddamned job we would be.
My assistant Linda was waiting for me. She frowned as she studied me, like she could tell I’d already had a rough morning.
“Good morning, Vincent,” she said as she fell in step beside me. “The R&D team is waiting for you in the main conference room. I have a few revisions to your schedule today I’d like to go over, the most important being?—”
My phone rang, and I grabbed it out of my pocket, holding up a finger to Linda.
“Gimme two minutes,” I muttered as I stepped into an empty conference room to take the call. “ Please ,” I added as I shut the door.
During an internal review, a few of my employees had been brave enough to say—anonymously, of course—that I can be “abrupt.” Yeah, that was my approach to life since time is money, but if I wanted to retain my staff, I had to at least try to play nice. So I was working on that…when I remembered.
The phone call was from Paul, my college roommate and another one of the “Lost Boys” Nana Dee had adopted.
I skipped the pleasantries. “Did you get the text from Trent?”
“Hi to you too,” Paul laughed. “I did. Such great news. Now we’ll have another reason to toast tonight, even if she can’t be with us.”
I paused, trying to remember what he was talking about.
“Please tell me you didn’t forget about my engagement party.”
Fuck . Yeah, it’d slipped my mind, but I wasn’t about to let on. “Of course not. I’ve got way too much on my plate at the moment. Someone hit my new car just now.”
“The McLaren?”
I half smiled—I purchased cars like other people bought gallons of milk. “No, the Bugatti.”
“D’oh! That’s brand-brand new.”
“Exactly, like as of yesterday,” I sighed as the shitty driver’s stunning face resurfaced in my mind.
My tastes usually leaned toward glamazon, but something about the petite beauty took my breath away. The combination of her bright blonde hair, dark eyes and freckles was downright adorable. And when she’d turned away to look at her damaged car, I’d stolen a few seconds to check out the rest of her. Adorable with a body that was sexy as fuck . A lethal combination.
“Well, throw some money at the damage, make the problem disappear, and you’ll be good to go,” Paul laughed.
“I wish that was the only problem on my plate. I still can’t find enough heliotrope for Evermore .”
Our new fragrance was my passion project, and my attempt to do something no other perfumer had achieved—distilling heliotrope into an oil I could infuse in Evermore , the final fragrance in our Trio of Time collection. The two prior fragrances, Then and Now , had set new company records, and our customers were clamoring for the final fragrance in the set. And Evermore was going to be special: I wasn’t satisfied using a lab-created version of heliotrope like the rest of the fragrance world. I wanted the real thing.
But first, I needed a source for it. A blossom blight across the country had led to a shortage, so finding enough was nearly impossible. Thanks to the cover story in the New York Times Magazine , I’d already publicly committed to being the first perfumer to distill heliotrope, and I was confident our chemists could do it. I just needed to find enough of the damn plant first.
“Well, the rest of the guys are coming…Maybe you can drink your troubles away tonight,” Paul said. “You bringing Maya?”
I could hear reluctance in his voice. I knew he wasn’t a fan of my supermodel girlfriend. Neither was I, anymore—which was why she was now my ex -girlfriend. “We broke up a while back. I thought I told you that?”
“My dude, we haven’t had a real conversation in ages.”
“Hey, don’t blame me, you’re all wrapped up in wedding planning,” I grumbled.
“True, true.” Paul sighed. “It’s…a lot .”
“Well, tonight I hope we can all focus on being happy for you and Chloe.”
I could fake it for the night. Pretend life was good and that I believed true love was real.
Even though I knew better.
The call wrapped up not long after that, and Linda was still waiting for me when I left the conference room. She walked me through what amounted to a punishing schedule.
“I need two more things, Linda,” I said as we paused outside my first meeting of the day. “First, call Adrienne at Bastille Flowers and order the Grande Soleil arrangement for Nana Dee. Pinks, creams, and peaches only. She’s at Northpoint Hospital.”
She nodded but refrained from asking questions.
“Second, have the security footage from my parking spot sent to me, starting at eight forty-five this morning and ending…” I glanced at my phone. “Ending now.”
She raised an eyebrow as she took notes on her iPad.
“And have maintenance look into what happened to my reserved parking sign. It’s missing.”
I turned to head into the meeting and realized Mr. Abrupt had done it yet again.
“Thank you, Linda. I appreciate it.”
Her blank expression transformed into an amused smile. “You’re welcome, Vincent!”
I walked into the conference room, and all conversation stopped.
“Good morning, team. I hope you have good news for me,” I said as I took my seat at the head of the table.
Dwayne Washington, our lead chemist, sputtered as everyone turned to look at him.
“We have momentum,” he offered. “The team and I put together a video of our latest distillation efforts, and I think you’ll be intrigued.”
“Folks, I want to be successful , not intrigued. The clock is ticking here.”
“We understand that.” Dwayne cleared his throat. “Let me just hit play, and I think you’ll see what I mean.” He fiddled with the iPad that controlled the white board. “Whoops, connection error,” he laughed nervously. “Gimme a few seconds here. Rachel, can you help troubleshoot?”
They mumbled to one another as they tried to figure out what was wrong, which gave me time to check the email that had just come in from Linda.
The security footage. Proof that I absolutely was not to blame. I pushed play and squinted at the screen.
There was my gorgeous Bugatti, idling just beyond my spot so I could back into it. The blonde bomber’s battered old car slid into view and started easing into the spot. My reverse lights flicked on after she was already well on her way.
Had she looked over at me? Had I looked back? It was impossible to say who was responsible for the collision, but the footage looked damning enough for me to admit maybe I’d blamed her too quickly.
Not that I’d ever tell her that.
I placed a quick call to Doug Fogel, my head of security.
“You still dealing with the car stuff?” I asked.
“Yes sir.”
“Okay, I don’t care how obnoxious she is, just pay for everything,” I said, knowing he’d understand exactly what I meant. “Shut-up-and-go-away money. I don’t want to have to deal with that woman again.”
“On it,” he answered quickly.
“One more thing,” I said as the idea took root. “I want her to admit she was in the wrong.”
“Uh…excuse me?”
“Find a way to get her to admit she made a mistake. She crashed into me . Imply that it’s a stipulation for the payout. It’s not, of course, but I want her to say the words.”
I didn’t elaborate because I didn’t have to. My word was law.
“Okay, Mr. Forde,” Doug said haltingly. “You got it.”
I reminded myself to be courteous. “Thank you.”
I hung up, satisfied that of all the things in my life I couldn’t control, at least I’d never have to deal with Manhattan’s worst driver ever again.