Chapter 10
Arya
I come home after a weekend to decompress and walk straight into a tirade from my mother. I stand there just past the front doorway with my arms folded while she screams at me for ignoring her calls and texts all weekend.
I wait for her to run out of steam. It takes a good five minutes. I can hear her voice, I can tell what words her mouth is making, but it is all the same things, and it runs together in my head with all the other times she’s said the same goddamn things.
“...and the least you could have done was pick up the phone...”
“Mother!” I snap suddenly, and she stops short, staring at me in wide-eyed shock. I don’t normally even come near yelling at her unless I’m really pushed to it. This time, I don’t feel like waiting. “I left for the weekend to get away from you and your constantly berating me. Of course, I’m not going to pick up the phone to do it some more. Take the hint!”
She just stares at me, blinking. My father leans over in his chair and peers at us through the living room door, apparently waiting for an explosion.
She glares at me. I glare back. “Well, I hope you got whatever that was out of your system,” she says finally, “because I won’t tolerate being ignored!”
“Let me make this very clear. The more you go off at me about not turning into a goddamn housewife and giving you grandkids, the more often I am going to go away, take some time for myself, and ignore your calls. If you keep doing it and don’t fucking listen, one day, you’ll push me away entirely, and you will have nobody but yourself to blame for it.”
My heart’s pounding as I deliver the hard truth and watch her eyes widen and her lips tremble in anger. But she doesn’t say anything.
My dad does, after hesitating for several seconds. “Now, come on, sweetie, that’s kind of a big overreaction, isn’t it?”
“At this point? No. I’m still working on clearing my name without any support from you. I even think I know who our leak is, but I am tired of being Mom’s favorite person to pick at.”
My mother goes red. “I am not picking at you. I’m telling you what’s expected of you!”
“Honey, shut up a second.” My father gets up and walks over to me. I can practically feel the front door against my back. “Did you say you found the leak? Someone in my house is actually spying on us?”
“Imelda. She was paid by the Rossis to keep tabs on us and plant some spy gear in my computer nook. She’s how Michael Rossi knew when to hit us.”
“Are you even sure it’s Michael Rossi?” my mother cuts in. “You’ve been wrong so often—”
“Honey.” This time, my father’s voice has an edge to it. “Can you go make us some tea?”
She looks like he just splashed her with cold water. Confused and resentful, she turns and walks to the kitchen, mumbling to herself.
“You’re sure it’s Imelda? How do you know?”
“I listened in on a conversation Rossi had with someone he’s working with.” As in, me. I’m not about to tell my father that I’m thinking of working with the thief—who is also the son of his rival.
His eyebrows go up. “What about hard proof?”
“If you check her financials, you’ll notice she’s been receiving regular payments from a third party while working for us full-time. You’ll also notice she has several outstanding medical bills paid off by that same third party.” I take a deep breath, calming myself now that my mother is temporarily elsewhere. “And she’ll probably have some evidence in her chambers, her computer, or her bag.”
He nods slowly, peering at me. I let myself feel a moment’s hope that he’ll actually take me seriously and acknowledge a contribution of mine, however small.
“I’ll look into Imelda, but don’t think this lets you off the hook for losing that money.”
My heart doesn’t sink too far. I’ve learned to be realistic about my expectations when it comes to my parents. It still stings, though. That, I can never find a way to block out. “I’d have an easier time finding the money if you had just let me focus on that. This whole thing was my idea in the first place anyway.”
His face darkens slightly, but he can’t look me in the eyes. “You know how your mother gets,” he mutters, almost sounding embarrassed. But then, he recovers and looks up at me. “Just remember that you’re the one who disappointed us, not the other way around. You’re the one who needs to find a way to make this up to us.”
That sting again. I want to yell at him. Instead, I stay calm and nod. “I understand.” I understand that you’re being way more of an asshole about this than is warranted, and I understand that you’re shortsighted and don’t take it seriously when I say I have one foot out the door.
And that hurts more than anything else. My father dismisses me so much that he doesn’t even pay attention when I say I might just leave and go no contact. He just wants me to shut up so I don’t upset Mom.
I deserve so much better than this . But I know I can’t pick my family or control how they act.
I head for my room to unpack and do my laundry, quietly seething the whole time.
Tonight, I decide to agree to Michael’s team-up idea, especially since he has revealed the spy’s name to me.
It’s very simple. He’s a thief with a big ego, guilt for screwing me over, and a huge crush on me. I am going to use how much he wants me and how much he underestimates me to my every advantage.
I’m going to get my family that money, I’m going to use the program to profit even more, and best of all, I’m going to make sure Michael takes a fall in the end and is humiliated in front of my family just like I was.
I’ll have to play part of my plan by ear. I still want to find that goddamn money so I can walk away with it. He’ll have to settle for knowing who screwed him, though.
I’ve never been the classic seductress type. I’m not manipulative enough. I can lie when I have to, but when I look at the kind of women who use men habitually, I feel a little sick. I’ve met plenty like that—gold-digging mob wives, private-school girls getting surgery in their teens to try and land a billionaire boyfriend—and I can’t respect them.
So, I go with my strengths instead. I’m not just a computer genius who is more than a match for him. I’m also a hot single woman he’s wanted for years. My first step, once I’ve calmed down enough to focus, is to hit up my wardrobe.
I tend to go for a modern-professional look. Dressing for success and all that. Weekends are for jeans or a nice dress, but right now, I’m looking for something a little... higher intensity.
I went through a minidress phase in college. I was going clubbing with a couple of wild friends who were trying to drag me out of my shell, and that meant dressing for it. That meant stretchy, sleek, and as short as I dared. My mother caught me once in a little black dress from the collection once and screamed like I was 14 instead of 20.
My mother can go to hell.
I pull out the three hottest dresses I own and stare between them, wondering what I can get away with when I go to meet Michael. He will know something was up if I rock up in anything too overtly hot, so I set aside the leather dress and consider the other two.
The little black dress is a staple, and I can tone it down just a tad with a charcoal blazer and matching dark gray pumps. It’s pretty cleavagey , but not enough that I look like I’m falling out of it. I go with that. I can always break out the leather or get something new if more subtle methods don’t work. But Michael’s already weak to me. I probably won’t need the big guns.
I have a set of black silk underwear and stockings to go with the outfit and a black garter belt with straps that will just barely show under the skirt at certain angles. I wear ruby earrings and a matching necklace with lipstick of the same shade and simple eyeliner. My perfume is musky and slightly sweet. With my hair piled up into a messy bun, I look like a sexy librarian.
Now, I just have to figure out how to get Michael to take the bait without my emotions getting involved. I’m definitely attracted to him, and in a situation like this, we could end up getting... intimate. How can I keep from catching feelings?
That’s easy. All I have to do is remind myself of all the crap he’s put me through and that my parents have put me through because of him. If I do that often enough, there’s no way I can actually fall for him.
My parents have no idea of my plans to work with Michael, and I don’t plan to tell them. The next time I’ll tell them what’s going on with me, I’ll have that money back in my hands. Of course, by then, I may just choose to take it and walk away if they keep treating me like this. But I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
The outfit works like a charm. The moment I get out of my car in front of Michael’s Nob Hill flat, I look up and see him standing at the big picture window, staring down at me with a stunned look in his eyes. He catches himself when he sees me stop and look up and calms his expression, even as I fight a smile.
He meets me at the door, pulling it open before I can even walk up and knock. His eyes are having trouble staying on my face. His gaze wants to roam. I pose myself subtly, toss my head back and give him plenty to look at.
“You look amazing,” he says before he can stop himself.
I smile politely. “Thank you. I prefer to dress like I’ve already won the fight. It helps keep me in the right mindset.” Of course, I am here for battle on two fronts: against the thief we are hunting and against the thief calling himself my ally.
I wonder how much my look turns him on. It certainly seems to distract him. Maybe he’ll pick up that I’m subtly flirting with him. It’s all right if he does. He’ll probably just take it as an invitation.
He’s one of those guys whose body could look good in rags. The jeans, boots, and button-down shirt with the rolled elbows are a step up from his usual band T-shirts look, but it doesn’t cling to his muscled shoulders like they do. I appreciate the bit of effort, but I’m still glad I outshine him.
He’s hot enough without wrapping the package nicely. I need him off-balance with a desire for me. I need to keep my own feet on the ground while I’m doing that to him. If he cleans up too well, I might be in trouble.
“I passed on the information about Imelda,” I say as he leads me inside.
He glances at me, seeming a little disappointed that I’m getting straight to business. “What was the response?”
I scoff. “My father says he’ll look into it. I even gave him the details you gave me on Imelda’s financials. It didn’t really impress him.”
He frowns. “Will he actually follow up?”
“Oh, he will. He’ll just act like the whole thing isn’t that important because the intel came from me.” I look around as he leads me up the stairs and into his flat. It’s big, modern, and airy, with high ceilings, skylights, and huge windows. He has one of those giant sectional couches that includes a wide, flat lounger, the whole thing in brown saddle leather. “This your hideaway?”
“Yeah, I usually spend time here when my sister’s being crazy or I have a date. There’s no real privacy at the family home. You know how it is.” He heads straight to the kitchen. “You want a beer?”
I check my watch. It’s two in the afternoon. I shrug. “Sounds fine.”
He pulls two chilled longnecks out of the fridge and pops the top off with his pocketknife before handing one over. “So, one of the reasons I wanted to cut you in on all of this is that you’re the original programmer of what was used against me. I figure if anyone can help me find who else is using it or has used it besides us, it’s going to be you.”
I stare at him thoughtfully as he takes a swallow of his beer, then sip my own. It’s a brown ale, nutty and mild, and goes down easy. “You drew me in by handing over your own spy.”
“My father’s spy, if you want to get technical—and I did that at particular risk to myself. He has no idea I exposed her.”
My eyebrows lift. “That is risky. I hear your father’s got a nastier temper than mine.”
“It takes a lot to piss him off, but yes, absolutely.” His gaze slides into my cleavage again, then back up to my face. “What’s your point?”
“How do you plan to keep my interest? Do you really think we can double our money while we work to get the stolen funds back?” I lift an eyebrow before taking another sip of my beer.
He smiles slowly. “Besides my charming company?”
I fight not to roll my eyes. “Yes.”
His eyes twinkle, and I find myself becoming curious. “Exposing an enemy, getting revenge, and making a pile of money above and beyond what I took or was taken from me.”
“I’m listening.” Especially about the ‘getting revenge’ part, he seems oblivious to the fact that the revenge I really want is on him.