THIRST

by Deborah Bladon

  FIRST ORIGINAL EDITION, FEBRUARY 2019

  Copyright © 2019 by Deborah Bladon

  All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written consent from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person’s, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 9781796856149

  eBook ISBN: 9781926440545

  Book & cover design by Wolf & Eagle Media

  www.deborahbladon.com

  Also by Deborah Bladon

  THE OBSESSED SERIES

  THE EXPOSED SERIES

  THE PULSE SERIES

  THE VAIN SERIES

  THE RUIN SERIES

  IMPULSE

  SOLO

  THE GONE SERIES

  FUSE

  THE TRACE SERIES

  CHANCE

  THE EMBER SERIES

  THE RISE SERIES

  HAZE

  SHIVER

  TORN

  THE HEAT SERIES

  MELT

  THE TENSE DUET

  SWEAT

  TROUBLEMAKER

  WORTH

  HUSH

  BARE

  WISH

  SIN

  LACE

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Epilogue

  Preview of Compass

  Preview of VERSUS

  Thank you

  Deborah’s Mailing List

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Dexie

  “I don’t understand why you haven’t invested in window coverings for this place.”

  I turn to see my friend, Sophia Wolf, standing next to one of the large windows in my new apartment.

  “I like the light,” I answer quickly. “Besides, in my rental agreement it says that the building’s superintendent will supply blinds and install them. The man is busy. I don’t want to bother him about it.”

  “You pay rent which means it’s his job to keep you happy.”

  Spoken from the lips of a woman who lives in a luxurious apartment with her novelist husband and daughter.

  “Don’t worry about it, Sophia.” I put a cardboard box on the kitchen counter. “I really like this place. It’s cheaper than my last apartment and there’s a lot more room.”

  “I can’t argue with that.” She takes in the sprawling space. “Are you thinking of setting up your workstation over there?”

  I haven’t given it any serious thought yet because my time is limited. I work full-time in the marketing department for a cosmetics company and part-time helping Sophia with her clothing line.

  My purse design business has yet to take off, but I’m determined to change that. I’ve put out some feelers to try and find a private investor for my company.

  Supplies aren’t cheap and even though I have a steady stream of customers willing to pay for my one-of-a-kind handmade purses, there’s not enough cash coming in to take my business to the next level.

  “I’m going to get all my stuff unpacked and then I’ll figure that out.”

  She taps her heel on the hardwood floor. “That makes sense.”

  I point at a lamp on a table near where she’s standing. “Can you turn that on? It’s getting dark.”

  She hits the switch on the lamp and it instantly fills the room with soft light. “I have one more concern and then I swear I’ll shut up.”

  I don’t look at her as I open a box filled with dishes. “What?”

  “Your bed is right in front of that window. Aren’t you worried that your neighbors will watch you while you sleep?”

  I picked this apartment because it has a loft feel to it. My bed is visible from my kitchen and the main living space. The only area that is separated by walls and a door is the bathroom.

  I’m not shy. I’ve slept here for the past four nights and I haven’t bothered to look out any of the windows to see if the people in the building next to mine are looking in.

  “This is Manhattan.” I stop what I’m doing and scan the exterior wall and the arched windows that face the building next door. “People are too busy to stare in here.”

  “What if you bring a guy home, Dex?”

  “A guy?” I pause as I tuck a lock of my pink-streaked blonde hair behind my ear. “You’re worried that my neighbors are going to watch me having sex? Is that what you’re asking?”

  She laughs. “It’s a possibility, no?”

  “Not right now.” I give an exaggerated shrug. “I don’t have time to meet men. You can rest easy tonight knowing that my neighbors won’t be getting a free show.”

  Her dark brown hair sways as she crosses the room to pick up her purse from where she tossed it onto the corner of my bed when she got here. It’s one of my latest designs. Sophia is my walking talking billboard and so far, I’ve had a few customers seek me out because of her.

  “I have to get home.” She shoulders the navy blue bag. It’s a perfect complement to the red blouse and white pants she’s wearing. “I need to make dinner. Do you want to come by for a bite?”

  I look around the apartment. I have too much to do tonight. There’s no way I can spare the time it would take to get to her place, eat, visit and then trudge back here. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

  “I’ll talk to you later in the week.” She hugs me tightly. “Call me if you spot any peeping Toms.”

  “Will do.” My reply is swift. “I’m not sure what you’ll do about it, but I’ll shoot you a text if I catch one.”

  ***

  I arch my back in a stretch as I finally put away the last of my dishes. I don’t own a lot, but my mismatched collection of plates, bowls and glasses is enough for me. I’ve never thrown an elaborate dinner party. I only cook the basics. All of my spare time is devoted to my passion. If I'm not working on one of my handbags, I'm thinking about elements for the next design.

  I ate a bowl of cereal for dinner after Sophia left, taking a spoonful in between unpacking boxes.

  I’ve accomplished more tonight than I thought I wou
ld. I glance at my phone sitting on the worn laminate countertop and realize that it’s nearing midnight.

  Since I need to be at my office at Matiz Cosmetics nine hours from now, sleep has to be next on my schedule.

  I hurry toward the bed. It’s not the most comfortable I’ve ever slept in, but it’s large and right now it’s calling my name.

  Just as I’m about to tug my pink T-shirt over my head and unbutton my jeans, I turn to the windows.

  The building next door is close. It’s also home to many apartments with dozens of windows.

  Several of the windows are shuttered with curtains and blinds. Subtle hints of light peek around the edges. A few apartments don’t have any window coverings and they’re backlit enough that I can make out what’s happening in the homes of my neighbors.

  Television sets flicker, a woman dances past a window, and then my gaze settles on the apartment directly across from mine.

  I know that the low light coming from the lamp in the corner makes me visible to the person standing with their back to me.

  There’s a light on in their apartment too. It’s not too bright, more of a gentle glow that casts just enough warmth that I can see the shape of a man. He’s tall with broad shoulders.

  When he turns, I lean closer to the window to get a better look.

  He does the same. His gaze locks with mine and a shiver of excitement runs through me.

  He’s gorgeous. He has dark hair and a chiseled jaw.

  He slides his suit jacket off, and I long for him to open each of the buttons on his white dress shirt.

  He does. He unbuttons them one-by-one and as he reaches the last, he stops and rests both hands on the glass.

  I hold my breath wanting more, but then he turns abruptly, walks away from the window and leaves me wondering when I’ll see him again.

  Chapter 2

  Rocco

  “The ask is substantial, Silas.” I glance at the man sitting next to me. “What makes you think I’m interested in something like this?”

  He moves to get a look at what’s displayed on my laptop screen. “We both made a fortune on Jewel Jinx. History is about to repeat itself.”

  Jewel Jinx was a once-in-a-lifetime investment. I put a mid-six figures check in his hand and a year later, I was depositing one in my account for ten times that. My equity in the company has paid off in spades. I’m still receiving bi-monthly payments because the gaming app has a strong base of diehard fans that haven’t deleted it to leap on the next craze.

  “This is nothing like Jewel Jinx.” I lift a hand and point at the laptop screen and the graphic that was included in the presentation package he sent to me via email late last night.

  “That’s the beauty of it, Rocco.” He blows a strand of blond hair out of his eyes. “We’re jumping into a solid space with a new twist on what people are craving. I’m telling you this is going to be bigger than Jewel Jinx.”

  I trust his intuition, but I trust my consultant, Lilly Parker’s, insight more.

  She’s a tech wizard and when I ran the idea for Jewel Jinx past her two years ago, she was so excited about the app that she bought in too. Her percentage was a lot less than mine, but she’s made more than pocket change on the deal.

  “How married are you to the name of this thing?” I rake a hand through my dark brown hair.

  “Word Wize?” he hisses the z out for emphasis. “There are millions of game apps. We need to stand out. The name does that.”

  It rubs me the wrong way. I’ve invested in dozens of ventures since I retired from professional gambling. I’ve always listened to the pitch, considered the pros and cons and relied on my gut instinct to guide me.

  If I don’t feel a connection to the product, business or person pitching their idea to me, I’ll bow out.

  I’m not prepared to do that yet. Silas didn’t steer me wrong with Jewel Jinx, so I’m still on board, at least until I talk to Lily.

  “I’ll sit on it for a day or two.” I look around the large conference room we’re in. “Does your boss know that you meet potential investment partners for your side business during your coffee breaks?”

  That earns me an unexpected laugh from the twenty-five-year-old. “My dad doesn’t give a shit what I do as long as I show up here every day in a suit. One of the perks of working for him is I get to set my schedule. I spend ninety-nine percent of my time developing apps, and the other one percent listening to him bitch about everyone else who works for him.”

  A decade ago when I was his age, I was breaking my back at a fish market on the Lower East Side during the day and my nights were spent tending bar at a club uptown.

  “So I’ll see you by the end of the week with the fifty thousand in hand?” Silas pushes back from the table with a sly grin. “The second you fund this, I can take it to the races, Mr. Jones.”

  I smile at his mention of my surname. The only time he resorts to using it is when he wants more of my money. “You made as much on Jewel Jinx as I did. Why not keep this one to yourself? You can bankroll this on your own.”

  He tosses his head back and laughs. “Dude, I bought a penthouse and a boat.”

  It’s a rookie mistake and one, I, fortunately, avoided.

  “Live and learn, Silas.” Standing, I snap my laptop shut and pick it up. “I’ve lived in the same apartment for twelve years.”

  “I’ve been to your place. You live in a shoebox close to midtown.”

  “I live in a two bedroom apartment that has more than enough room for me.”

  “I’ll give you that.” He sets his hand on my shoulder. “You must have thought about moving out of there at some point. Your neighborhood is teeming with tourists.”

  “I’m not complaining.” I face him. “Every corner of this city has its distinct charm, including where I live.”

  “To each his own.” He starts toward the conference room door. “I get the allure of Tribeca. That’s why I bought a place there. Nothing could convince me to move to your neck of the woods. I’ll never understand what keeps you there, Rocco.”

  Memories.

  They anchor me to that apartment. They always will.

  Chapter 3

  Dexie

  A siren blares as I step out of the Matiz Cosmetics office tower.

  The sound is an integral part of Manhattan. When I first moved to the city it took me months to get used to all the noise. It’s never quiet, but for the most part, I’ve grown to love it.

  On days like today, I could do without the argument that’s going on next to me. Two women are disagreeing about where to go to eat lasagna. I can tell that they’re tourists. The clothing they’re wearing gives them away.

  It’s the middle of summer and the early evening temperature is hovering near ninety-five degrees.

  I’m wearing a white sundress with a light pink cardigan draped over my forearm. They’re both decked out in jeans, white I heart NY T-shirts and black hoodies tied around their waists.

  “I didn’t mean to overhear your conversation.” I turn toward the women. It’s immediately obvious that they’re sisters. “I can make a great recommendation for pasta.”

  Both of their faces brighten with broad smiles.

  The shorter of the two brunettes speaks first. “Do you live here?”

  I nod. “I do.”

  The other woman’s nose crinkles as her gaze rakes me over. “You look like you belong on the cover of a fashion magazine.”

  I take the compliment with a smile. I think I look more like I spent my day in a stuffy office going over the marketing materials for the winter launch of Matiz’s new lipstick line. The skirt of my dress is wrinkled. My hair is a frizzed mess from the humidity and there’s a yellow stain on my cardigan. The deli down the street put too much mustard on my pastrami on rye and the excess dropped on my sweater. I adjust the cardigan to hide the stain, so I don’t look like a complete fraud to these two.

  I know from experience that a specific question always brightens a
tourist’s day. “Do you two live here?”

  They giggle in unison and their blue eyes narrow in the same way. I suddenly wonder if they resemble their mom or their dad.

  The taller of the two women leans closer to me. “We don’t live here. We’re from Idaho.”

  “I’ve never been,” I say truthfully. “What’s it like?”

  They both step to the right to allow a group of people to pass by us. The shorter woman sighs as she looks toward the street and the buses, cars, and delivery trucks creeping along in late afternoon traffic.

  “Peaceful,” she answers as she points at the woman next to her. “My sister lives closer to the mountains than I do, but I’m not complaining. I love it there.”

  “It sounds beautiful.” I watch as she looks over at her sister. “I hope I can visit someday.”

  “Where did you buy that?” The taller woman inches closer to me, her gaze pinned on the yellow leather tote that’s clutched in my hand. “It’s beautiful.”

  I look down at the bag. It took me weeks to get the design right. I chose this bright color because it symbolizes summer to me. I put the final touches on it right before I moved to my new place. “It’s one of mine. I designed it.”

  They exchange a glance before they both turn back to me. “Do you have a store? A website? Where can we get it?”

  Their voices blend as they spit out the questions. I hesitate before I answer. “I can give you my card. I’m only doing custom one-of-a-kind pieces right now.”

  I fish in my tote for the silver business card holder Sophia gave me for my birthday last year. I tug out two cards and hand one to each woman.

  “Can you make that bag in black?” The shorter woman stares down at my card. “I’d love it in black.”

  “I can do that.” I trace my fingertips over the delicate silver chain that runs along the top of the bag. “I can change out any of the details to make it perfect for you.”

  “I’ll email you when I’m back home.” She tucks the card into the back pocket of her faded jeans. “I’m Nora Kemp, by the way.”

  “I’m Dexie Walsh,” I say with a smile. “But you knew that from the card.”

  “I’m Trisha.” The other woman nods. “I’ve been looking for a clutch forever. I’ve found a few, but I’m still on the hunt for the perfect one. Is that something you can do?”

  “Absolutely.” I pull my phone from my bag and scroll through the photo library until I land on the image of a pink clutch I made last year for a friend of a friend. “Are you thinking of something like this?”