Chapter Five
R uby
It had been two weeks. Two weeks, and there was nothing to show for it. She sat cross-legged on her bed, the sun streaming in through the open windows. She took a deep breath, as if she needed the fresh air to help her find all of his secrets, or for Josh himself to spill all of his shady dealings. Except, what if there weren’t any? Maybe her dad was mistaken.
She ran her fingers thoughtfully over the red gemstone notebook, her own thoughts drifting back to that day when she fell, and he caught her expertly. There was no denying that she felt some sort of ... heat? Charge? Between them. For her not to be able to put it into words was worrying—she was a journalist, after all. If this article went well, words would become her bread and butter. She needed to do better. But they had fallen into a comfortable rhythm ... working together. It was easy. And she was enjoying, actually enjoying, the work he had her doing, liaising with all these interesting people, the tradition she’d garnered with Cathy of them taking it in turns to bring each other coffee in the mornings, and Josh’s obvious, clear, passion for hard work and—
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
She blinked a few times before accepting the call from her dad.
“Hiya.”
“Hi, love. I’m calling for an update.”
“Hi, Ruby, how’s it going? How are you? How’s New York?” she snapped back.
She heard his chuckle on the other end of the phone. She sighed. Sometimes the man was all business.
“Yes, those are all far more important questions,” her mom chimed in. “Answer them first.”
She really wasn’t in the mood for chit-chat. So, she filled them both in on a few updates, before turning to the matter of the call.
She took a deep breath. “Look, I can’t find anything. I’m sorry. These past few weeks, working with Josh,” she winced at saying his name out loud, it had been a swear word in her household for many years, “I think ... I think maybe he’s changed.”
She bit her lip at the silence on the other end of the phone. It was deafening but spoke volumes.
“You obviously haven’t been looking hard enough, sweetheart,” he said. “He stole our clients, our business. He made us lose millions. He’s a hunter, a poacher. We’d done all the hard work, and he stole it. Look, you know this, just because you haven’t come across any proof, doesn’t mean it’s not true. Now, I’ve sent something for you to print off. Just put the document in one of his desk drawers and take a photo. Then you can add it to your article.”
He sounded like he was simply asking her out for coffee, not to commit a crime. To falsify evidence.
“You can’t be serious...”
“For our family, for our reputation, for the sake of our business, I am serious. We’ll be in New York soon and there can only be one king of the jungle.”
She heard the phone crackle, and then her mom was on the line. “It seems dramatic, and you don’t have to use it, but if you can do this for us, it would mean a lot. We love you, darling.”
Her heart was pounding. “Sure, Mom.”
That’s how she found herself standing in front of Josh’s office on a Sunday morning, paper in hand, staring at his office door like it was a bomb about to go off. Hell, she was the bomb. Could she really plant this? Could she really do this? Plant a document in his desk drawer of a fake email chain that basically showed how he poached a client? She closed her eyes for a moment. The seriousness of the situation seeping in.
Her hand closed over the door handle, the cool steel seeping into her body. She opened the door and went in, closing it behind her. It felt as though she was doing something forbidden, looking into a forbidden world, a kingdom without its king.
There can only be one king of the jungle...
God, her dad could be dramatic. There were hundreds upon hundreds of real estate companies in New York, fewer representing the higher levels of clientele, granted, but there would be room for both of them.
She opened his drawer. She’d snooped during her first few days and nearly got caught by the cleaner. But she found nothing, just some personal items, like letters from home.
She snapped a picture, placing the document inside his drawer. Guilt shouldn’t be stabbing at her insides like this. She should feel vindicated. But she felt anything but vindicated. Had her life come to this? What a mess she’d made of things. She caught her reflection in the window. Her hair a mess, her teeth digging into her bright red lips. Who are you, Ruby? This isn’t you.
She let a tear escape, sniffing back more. She’d never felt more alone in the big city.
She scrunched up the document, putting it back into her bag.
Time to go. She would call up Alana, get a cocktail, or maybe five, and drink her troubles away.
The thought of a strawberry daiquiri had her feet moving quicker, not looking where she was going. That’s why, when she collided with him, she let out a scream. His eyes widened, his hands steadying her by the shoulders. His warmth seeped into her, as well as his scent ... his natural scent. He was in workout gear, tight muscle fit, he must have just come from the gym. His eyes widened even further when he caught sight of her face, the tears staining tracks in her foundation.
He reached out a finger and caught one, brushing featherlight against her cheek. She didn’t know what was wrong with her, but she leaned into the touch, the warmth, letting her eyes flutter shut.
No words passed between them. She opened her eyes, and she marked his frown of worry. Worry ... for her?
He seemed to be at war with himself, his jaw twitching, before he lost and pulled her toward him into an embrace. His hand fell on the back of her head, like they had been doing this for years. A sob escaped her, she couldn’t help it, but this felt so good, to be held, to be held by him...
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong? So that I can fix it?”
Something like a chuckle escaped her. “Money can’t fix everything.”
She felt him stiffen. “I’m well the fuck aware of that,” he said. “Tell me, what can I do?”
She broke their embrace, stepping back a little. He was asking to help her, and she was tricking him...
She waved a hand. “Just family stuff.” She sniffed, trying to regain some composure. Although she was pretty sure she had left a snot trail on his workout clothes. Wonderful. Could this day get any worse?
“Ruby,” he began, but she didn’t let him finish his thought.
“Have a good rest of your weekend. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
His brow furrowed. “What are you doing here?”
Her heart raced against her ribcage. She dove into her bag and brandished her notebook. “Forgot this.”
He chuckled. “Can’t have that. You’re always scribbling in that thing.”
Her heart lurched. He’d been watching her. He knew her.
Time to go.
“Yes, that would be a tragedy,” she threw over her shoulder, practically diving into the elevator like it was a life raft and she was drowning.
****
S he sat at a table in Club Billionaire, one tucked away deep in the corner, away from prying eyes. She drained the last of her drink, staining her straw red. She couldn’t help but think that she had blood on her hands. She was a traitor, not only to Josh, but to Alana, who was roughly an hour late. She sighed and adjusted her red mini dress. She’d decided to dress up. After all, what else did she have to do? Sure, the club had a dress code, but Alana wouldn’t have cared if she turned up in a t-shirt and ripped jeans. Not if you were her friend. She would do anything for you...
That thought had her shaking her head, like she was trying to shake all thoughts of betrayal from her mind.
The server approached her. “Another, madam?”
She smiled. “Yes, please.”
She should take it easy. This was going to be her fourth, after all.
She gazed around the room from her vantage point. The club took her breath away every time she came here. It was so sophisticated—she loved all of the gold finishings. It made the restaurant and bar positively glow.
“Hi!” Alana breezed up to her. “Sorry I’m so late.” She had her hair piled atop her head in a bun, and wore a black dress, floor length and tight. Seriously, she could be a model.
They embraced. “It really is a skill, you know, to be late to meet someone in your own club,” she joked.
Alana grinned. “Well, it seems you’ve used my lateness to your advantage.”
With comedy level timing, the server brought back her cocktail.
“Want to take it to my office? We can chat properly in there.”
“Sure,” she agreed, picking up her drink and clutch bag.
As they made their way through the club, she could feel eyes on them. She recognized a lot of the club members, she’d even been introduced to a few. They were nice, regular guys (besides being billionaires) who seemed to enjoy being in a place where no one was chasing them around.
They were nearly at Alana’s office, they just had to walk through the final portion of the restaurant area. This was a classy place, so she tried not to wobble on her tipsy legs and high heels. A dangerous combination if ever there was one.
“Well, well!” a voice boomed.
Her eyes fell on the noise.
Oh, God.
Why? Why? Why?
Josh was sitting at the table, clad in a blue suit. He looked the best she’d ever seen him look. And that was saying something. The man was gorgeous.
“Hello, Drew,” Alana said, walking to the table. “And Josh, how lovely to see you.”
“Hello, boss,” she said, before she could stop her mouth from moving. “What are you doing here?”
Josh’s mouth twitched. “Hello, Ruby.” He didn’t answer her question. Probably because it was bloody obvious what he was doing there.
Alana made the introductions, and Drew shook her hand, laughing. He answered the question for his friend, slapping him on the shoulder. “Do you really think he wants to be bothered? We come here for the peace and quiet. Poor, handsome, billionaire, eh? I don’t have that problem, just the billionaire part,” he said with a wink.
He was attractive, with red hair, and a silver scar marking his face.
Alana opened her mouth as if to protest. Drew caught her gaze, and all mirth wiped from his face.
She suddenly felt as if she were intruding.
Her eyes fell on Josh who gave her a smirk, as if to say, I know what’s going on there. He dragged out the chair next to him, and she sat. Alana joined them, too. He poured a glass of water and pushed it toward her.
“Can’t have you hungover at work tomorrow, Miss Lock.” His green eyes cast over her, and she suddenly felt tipsy for an entirely different reason.
She took some gulps of the water.
“Yes, busy day tomorrow.” She had no idea if it was.
He swirled the whiskey in his glass. “It is,” he agreed. “And an even busier evening. There’s an event for the charity I chair. I think it would be good if you accompanied me.”