Chapter 3
Karey Justice
“I’m in a relationship.”
The lie passes my lips with practiced ease. I learned long ago no woman is safe in New York City, and even though the lie doesn’t protect me from every man, it deters most who are just out for an easy lay.
My heart pounds and nipples harden as Declan’s grey eyes darken and intensify.
For a tension-filled moment, I imagine him lunging over the table, covering me with his massive body, and pinning me to the couch by my throat. Warmth blooms in my abdomen and need pulses between my legs.
“But not engaged?” he asks.
I morph my smile to one of sympathy.
“We’re happily committed,” I say before finishing with to being best friends forever inside my head.
“It sounds like he doesn’t deserve you,” Declan growls.
For a few heartbeats, his intensity steals my breath, and a small part of me longs to have his protection.
The anger simmering in his handsome features makes me wish I was in the situation he’s imagining—a lovesick fool being led around by a man who has no intention of marrying me—so he can ride in on a valiant steed, wearing shining armor and save me.
But the past has shown me where that leads. He had his chance to be my one and only forever knight. After the brutal words he spoke before walking away, I’ll never trust him again.
Icy rage destroys the warmth created by his concern.
He has no right to comment on my love life, even it it’s not true.
I soften my smile and relax the tension around my eyes, donning a dreamy expression.
“My boyfriend understands my situation and is perfect just the way he is, but thank you for your concern, Mr. Buchanan,” I strike, removing the blame from my make-believe lover and placing it all on my shoulders.
His expression darkens impossibly further. My heart skips a beat. Slick warmth fills my panties.
I pause at the unfamiliar sensation.
No one has ever interested me enough to make me wet. Even though I work with the city’s most beautiful people—top models, celebrities, musicians, etc—I’ve never once been aroused. Not even the slightest inkling.
Yet Declan Buchanan’s anger turns me on so much I fear I’ll leak onto the couch and embarrass the hell out of myself.
I clear my throat and pull a notepad and pen from my purse.
It may kill me, but I will remain professional. I may never recover from watching the man my fanciful heart still refuses to believe isn’t mine anymore fall in love and find his happily ever after, but there’s no going back now.
“If you’ll tell me what you’re looking for in a wife, I’ll start my search as soon as possible,” I prompt.
He surprises me by launching into a list instead of arguing.
“Light brown caramel eyes. Brunette.”
Easy enough, even if most men claim they want blonde hair and blue eyes. I nod and move to the next line in my notepad.
“About five one. Curvy. My age. Smiles a lot.”
The deep timbre of his words arrows straight to my problematic womb, scrambling my brain for an embarrassing moment.
He’s listing my attributes, although the word curvy is a little too generous for my excess weight.
I sigh and lift my eyes from my paper to meet his stare.
“Mr. Buchanan, I have already made myself clear. I am unavailable. I cannot help you if you won’t take this seriously.”
“I am serious,” he quips.
The bottom of my stomach drops.
He is serious. Very serious.
I set my notepad and pen in my lap before leaning forward and taking a chilled water bottle off the table. His eyes dip to my cleavage. Hunger darkens his gaze. My insides clench.
“Mr. Buchanan, even if I wasn’t in a relationship, I do not date clients.
” I crack open the water and take a few sips.
When I meet his eyes again, he lifts his gaze from my throat.
His wicked thoughts shine from his intense grey orbs.
Too afraid of drowning in his hunger, I turn to his grandmother.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Murphy. I want to help you, but this isn’t—”
“I’m so sorry, Karey. May I call you Karey?” she asks.
I nod. She relaxes her shoulders and sends him a withering glance before scooting forward on her cushion and continuing.
“This must just be his new way of rebelling. I’ve tried for years to get him to date, but—”
“I’m aware of his reputation, Ms. Murphy,” I interrupt.
She grimaces and smooths her hair despite not a single strand being out of place.
“I’m certain you are, given your expertise. I apologize for his antics. Truly. Please don’t—”
“I am neither rebelling nor do I need you to apologize for me, Grandmother. I have always known what I want,” he turns and pins me in place with a challenging look. “Haven’t I, Karey?”
A band constricts my lungs. All the oxygen escapes the room. My head spins.
“Wait, do you know each other?” Eileen asks.
I peel my gaze off Declan’s and offer my friend a strained half-smile.
“We went to the same middle school,” I say.
Declan sighs and props his thick forearms on his even thicker thighs.
“We were more than that, and you know it, cupcake.”
Every cell in my body contracts. My ears ring. Teetering on the edge of a full breakdown, I ignore all sense of propriety and slam the water bottle down on the table as I stand.
Shoving my paper and pen into my purse to hide my trembling hands, I turn and address his grandmother with an apologetic smile.
Even in my distress, I can’t drop the godforsaken cheerfulness for fear of destroying my life’s work.
“I can send you recommendations and set up initial meetings, but I will not be attending them myself nor will I be available for face-to-face discussions in the future.” I take a deep breath and force myself to offer her my hand. She rises with impressive grace.
“It was wonderful to meet you,” I say in full business mode and slip my contact card into her hand before turning and sidestepping past Eileen.
I thank my friend for the introduction and promise to stay longer next time before exiting the room without a backward glance.
The day threatens to swallow me whole, so I take the hall to the side exit and step out into the wind before anyone stops me. I stomp down the sidewalk and seethe at his audacity.
Sure, some people may think the term cupcake is a cute endearment, but not me. I’ve been called fat too many times in my life to want to be likened to a dessert.
I don’t bother searching for a seat on the crowded subway, but I curse when the intercom announces my old address.
After living with my gay best friend since high school when we both left home—him because his parents refused to accept he liked men and me because my father and stepmother found out they were pregnant—taking the route to the apartment we’ve shared for years was habit.
I sigh, exit the train, rush to the correct tunnel, and head toward my new place.
I’m not sure how I feel about my new roommate yet. Fabio, my best friend’s fiancé, swears the man is asexual, and when I first met him, he seemed safe, but after catching him glimpsing at certain parts of my body a few times while Matthew and Fabio helped me move in, unease creeps up my spine.
I let myself into the apartment as quietly as possible and tiptoe past his closed bedroom door to mine at the end of the hall. It may still be early afternoon, but I need some time away from people before I deal with figuring out my new roommate.
I close myself in my room and plop down on my bed—on top of my comforter since changing out of my work clothes seems like too much work—and open my laptop for a few episodes of my favorite drama, but my mind wanders and I drift into a half-sleep.
Today’s bad karma may not have started with Declan Buchanan, but it didn’t all those years ago, either.
The boy I once thought would be my forever knight in shining armor has now become the harbinger of bad news.
Nightmares take over my slumber, but even as I relive the worst moments of my life, dark grey eyes watch over me from afar.
Declan Buchanan broke my heart twenty years ago, and by either my bad luck or fate’s cruel hands, we met again today.
He abandoned me, but I could never make him leave.
I wake with tears streaming down my face and pain pulsing in my heart.
Eerie silence breaks my melancholy. I stiffen as my senses rush to full alertness, but I’m too late.
A shadow stands over my bed.