Undone, Volume 1

by Callie Harper

  With one last deep breath of cold, fresh air, I told myself there was no time like the present. I bit the proverbial bullet and headed up into the fray. The elevator doors parted directly into my grandmother’s home.

  “Asher. So good of you to come.” A butler held open the door to the Upper East Side home, but Gram met me at the entrance, her bright blue eyes brimming with pleasure at the sight of me.

  “Hi, Gram. Looking good.” My grandmother could wear a wool suit with pearls like nobody’s business. Like they were made for her. Actually, they probably were, custom tailored from a tiny shop that mostly catered to the royals. Gram’s father had been in the House of Lords and she had married a peer, though he’d passed before I was born.

  She kissed me on both cheeks, then drew her arm through my own. I took comfort in her vigor. At 83, I knew she was old on paper, but Gram seeming old in person would really fuck me up.

  “They’re gathering in the drawing room. Shall I have Thomas fix you a drink?”

  “You read my mind.”

  “And old fashioned, if you please,” she spoke to the side. Thomas nodded, then tucked into the butler’s pantry to do her bidding. “Colton’s fuming about you,” she informed me in classic Gram style, somehow managing to make me feel as if she were on my team, warning me without judging. “He’s extremely vexed over something or other.”

  “Yeah, there’s this video on YouTube. Makes me look pretty bad.”

  “Oh, well,” she scoffed. “People wasting time on that kind of drivel aren’t worthy of your attention, now are they, dear?” She patted my hand. Case closed. She really was a golden egg in the midst of a mile-wide trough of pig slop. In my experience, most people in this world tended to disappoint. Better to expect it than get blindsided later. But that had never happened with Gram.

  “Asher!” A small bundle of strawberry blonde hair and a huge smile came flying at me.

  “Gigi!” I gave my little sister a huge hug. She’d taken after Gram, petite and ladylike, yet also somehow unpretentious. “How you been?”

  “Missing you!” she exclaimed, linking through my other arm.

  “Allow me to show you in.” Gram led me into a high-ceilinged room with ornate draperies framing floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Central Park. Paintings in giant frames, each with its own lighting, covered most of the remaining walls.

  My older brother, Colt, stood by the fireplace, drink in hand, looking like he belonged in a period piece set in Victorian England. OK, mostly it was the setting around him but he truly fit in, shoulders back, spine straight, chin angled such that he looked down his stern nose at me. Vexed, indeed.

  My younger brother, Heath, lurked over in the shadows in the furthest corner of the room, dark and angry with a giant beard. He clearly wished he were anywhere else. Last I heard he was living in Vermont in a one-room cabin with no running water. At first that had sounded insane to me, but lately I saw the appeal in getting away from it all. I nodded at him briefly and he gave me a swift nod in response. I hear you, bro, I wanted to say. I don’t want to be here, either. We weren’t close, but I’d always respected Heath. At 24 he’d become one badass bearded mountain man. I wouldn’t get on his bad side.

  My great-aunt Gertrude sat ramrod straight on a richly upholstered settee with a teacup suspended mid-air en route to her mouth. Perhaps etiquette required pausing one’s consumption of beverages upon the entrance of a new party into a room. A year or two younger than Gram, I knew Great Aunt Gertrude was a stickler for manners, preferably the absurdly outdated kind.

  The leather chair my father had favored—as large and overbearing as his personality—remained empty. It felt so strange to not see him in it. I’d fought him so hard all my life. Now that he was gone I almost felt unmoored.

  “Allow me to introduce you to our newest arrivals.” Gram turned to another couple in the room.

  I knew who they were straight away, before she said another word. The big, dark guy had to be the Montana rancher who claimed to be my father’s long-lost son. The pretty little thing by his side looked like Miss America, all blonde, blue-eyed and glowingly pink-cheeked.

  “Declan, Kara, this is Asher.” Gram offered me up to them. I tried to get away with nodding my hello, but the beauty queen wasn’t having it.

  “Hey! Oh my goodness! It’s so fun to meet you!” She rushed over with enthusiasm, taking my hand in both of hers. “This is all such a surprise, learning about Declan’s family, and then when we found out about you! Ash Black!” She put her hand to her chest in pantomimed shock and I had to admit, she gave me the start of a smile.

  “I love your music! I really do. My favorite is singing along with you when I’m driving in my truck!”

  “Cool.” I had to love it. She was just what the Kavanaugh family needed, a truck-driving Ash Black fan. They looked around my age, Declan maybe a few years older. He had my father’s big bear of a frame, and I saw the Kavanaugh stubbornness written all over his face. His jaw set, he didn’t look like he wanted to be here either. Huh. He might be legit after all. My brother Colt had to be livid. I decided to like them.

  “You guys should come to one of my shows. I‘ll set you up back stage.”

  “What?! That’s crazy! You’re the best!” She flew back to Declan’s side, looking up at him adoringly. “I knew he’d be great!” she declared.

  Declan nodded at his wife, clearly somewhat less of an Ash Black fan but just as clearly a big fan of Kara.

  “New Year’s I’m playing Vegas. You guys should come.”

  “Maybe. Thank you.” Declan gave me a tempered thanks. OK. My new Montana half-brother. Interesting.

  Then my stepmonster Brandi swept in, all boobs. My father hadn’t exactly broken the mold with his second wife, opting for the 20-years-younger surgically enhanced model. It was like buying a flashy, cherry red Porsche in your middle age, only my father had always been more of a Bentley or Aston Martin guy so Brandi had come as something of a surprise.

  “I’m so sorry Dominic isn’t here,” Brandi apologized to nobody in particular. “He really wanted to come. But something came up.” They’d gotten married about five years ago and I’d met her son, my stepbrother Dominic, maybe twice. His glowering, dark and silent presence made Heath look like a social party animal.

  “Now that we’re all here.” Gram drew everyone’s attention, standing fireside with Colt. Her butler Thomas slipped me an old fashioned. Just in time. “Let me first say, I’m very excited to see you all at tomorrow’s Christmas party. It’s going to be spectacular. Thank you very much to Gigi for all of her help with the arrangements.”

  Starting to pass the mantle, I got it. She’d skipped right over my stepmother, Brandi. Gram was right, Gigi would be the one to keep up the tradition.

  Nelson, our attorney, slipped into the room, silent as the grave. He had to be in his 60s, maybe 70s by now, but he still looked slim and spry. I caught his eye and mouthed the words, “Did you get my message?”

  He nodded briefly in affirmation, then swiftly returned his attention to Gram. He didn’t want to be the one caught being naughty in class. Earlier, I’d messaged him about Anika Ivanov, requesting a standard background check. My gut told me she was squeaky clean in every way, but we needed to be 100% sure. Nelson’s people were the ones to do it fast and with discretion.

  Nelson took the floor and got right to it, addressing the ramifications of an additional beneficiary to my father’s will. His British accent made him sound either awfully formal or a bit sarcastic. Sometimes both. Honestly, I didn’t listen. I wasn’t inheriting anything, anyway. I was there for Gram. But I did like seeing Brandi squirm with displeasure and I got a kick out of watching the smoke come out of Colt’s ears. He didn’t like this new development one bit.

  “You two are roughly the same age,” Nelson pointed out, looking at him. “Declan’s 27.”

  “I’m 28,” Colt declared, and even he must have known he sounded like an arrogant jerk, engaging in siblin
g rivalry, pulling rank. CEO Colt was as alpha as they came. All of us guys were, really. Maybe that was why we knocked heads so much.

  After Nelson had said his piece, Gram resumed the stage. She also got right to the point. “As you all know, I am currently 83 years old. Yet the only one of you married is Declan.” She looked over at Declan and Kara. “May I again offer my congratulations to you both. Refresh my memory, when was the happy day?”

  “Two weeks ago.” Hey, Declan could smile. A big, broad one, too.

  “Well done.” Gram gave her blessing. But then she turned to the rest of us. “As for you, Colton, Asher, Heathcliff and Georgiana.” Such a mouthful, what had our parents been thinking when they’d named us? I was sure Gram had a strong hand in it. “I expect each of you to be married in the next five years. The thought of turning 90 without all of you properly settled is preposterous.”

  It wasn’t the first time she’d reminded me of British actress Maggie Smith. Giving us a marriage ultimatum, was she now?

  “Asher,” she turned to me just as I was taking a sip of my old fashioned. “I’d like you to get married first.”

  I nearly choked. Hand to my mouth, I looked up at her for a sign of humor. Unfortunately, I saw nothing but direct sincerity in those sparkling blue eyes.

  “He’s too busy breaking hearts,” Colt mumbled. I rolled my eyes.

  “I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as it looked,” Gigi hushed him. Always the peacemaker.

  “If he could just keep out of the headlines for a single goddamned day,” Colt grumbled.

  “Please refrain from using profanity,” Gram chided.

  “OK.” I clapped my hands together, ready to leave. “I’ve got my marching orders. Think I’ll go get started right away.” Heath was already at the door, beating me to it.

  “If you must.” Gram allowed Heath and I to exit. She knew how to choose her battles. “We’ll all reconvene tomorrow night.” Gram began walking us out, though the rest of the family stayed put.

  Nelson appeared alongside me. “The information you requested has been delivered.” Then he was gone. The man should have been a spy.

  Looking in my eyes, Gram reached up to place both hands on my shoulders. “There’s more to you than others know.” I’d like to believe her, though there was no proof of it.

  “I’m not getting married, Gram. Just so you know.” I leaned down so she could give me a kiss on the cheek.

  “We’ll see about that.” She kissed, then patted me on the cheek, content in her own superior wisdom.

  In the back of a chauffeured car, I clicked on my phone and opened up the e-file I’d been waiting for from Nelson’s office. Anika Ivanov. She’d grown up in Wallingford Falls, NY, a town of 6,000 about an hour and a half north of the city. Her parents were Russian immigrants, an engineer and a seamstress, no known mafia ties. She’d transferred from community college to SUNY New Paltz where she’d gotten her BA in music, then did her Master’s in Library and Information Studies at Queens College. She was 24, had been working at the branch library in SoHo for eight months, taught piano to ten families in Manhattan, and lived with two roommates in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn. Limited social media presence, no criminal record. Perfect.

  I called Joel. “I’ve got it figured out. A librarian here in New York. She’s 24 and teaches piano. Clean background check.”

  I could practically feel the relieved drop in his blood pressure through the phone. “Goddamn, Ash. Where did you find her?”

  “Long story.”

  “I’ll talk to Nelson and send over an NDA. When can you get her to sign?”

  “Tonight.”

  “That’s my boy. I’ll tell Lola.”

  Phone back in my pocket, I looked out at the city streets, dark at five thirty though still bright with lights. Tonight, Anika. I had a sudden image of her bound, naked, twisting beneath me on the bed. Her pale skin against the dark sheets, her nipples hard and aching under my fingers. A blindfold across those lovely eyes, those lush pink lips open, calling out my name as I slipped a finger down into her dripping wet pussy.

  But first I needed to get the non-disclosure agreement signed. I had to lock that down, get the business end of things tied up. Then, I could tie her up. She’d be mine for the month. This would be a fun month. She’d have to spend all kinds of time with me, every minute, really. Then the month would be over and I’d be off and onto the next stop on the Ash Black train ride. But until then, I’d have plenty of time to undo the laces on that Victorian bodice of hers. I could seduce her sweetness into complete submission.

  CHAPTER 6

  Ana

  “OK, what do you think?” I emerged from my bedroom to show my two eagerly-awaiting roommates my outfit.

  “No!” they chorused as one.

  “Really?” I looked down. I thought I’d chosen pretty well for my date with Ash Black. A deep scarlet top with a wide scoop neck that draped well and a short sparkly black skirt I’d just bought for a holiday party paired with long, heeled boots. I wanted to look good without looking like I’d spent all day trying to look good. Casual but not overalls-causal. Slightly sexy without throwing myself at him. Didn’t it work?

  “First of all, you’re going to be cold,” Jillian began. “Want to borrow my turtleneck sweater?”

  “This is Ash Black you’re meeting.” Liv sat perched on a stool next to our kitchen counter, the only eating space we had in our apartment. Room for tables and chairs was a luxury I couldn’t afford in New York City.

  “I didn’t even think you liked Ash Black?”

  “I don’t. He manufactures sellout corporate rock.” Liv preferred German indie punk bands, the kind of soundtrack that would work well in the apocalypse. “But you look like a librarian.”

  “I do?” I looked down at myself again. My fitted skirt hit mid-thigh and the heels on my boots were at least three inches tall. I felt like I was kind of pushing the envelope.

  “Here’s what you do.” Liv slipped off the stool to demonstrate. “Big coat.” She brought her hands to the front as if clasping two sides of a jacket. “Nothing underneath but a lacy bra, panties and my stiletto thigh-highs. You get to the bar and…” She gave me a wink as she opened her pretend coat.

  “I don’t know about public nudity.”

  “Oh, get over it.”

  “That is a really bad idea.” Jillian held up her finger in admonishment.

  Perfect, I realized. I’d chosen the perfect outfit since they both hated it. Crazy, off-her-rocker Liv thought it was too boring while conservative, worrywart Jillian thought it wasn’t sensible enough. Jackpot.

  “OK, you guys. I’m heading out.” I wound a scarf around my neck for Jillian.

  “At least let me get some eye pencil on you,” Liv asked.

  “Go light,” I warned her, standing under the best—also the only—bright, overhead light in our apartment.

  She was on me in a second, tilting back my head. “Look up.”

  “Think Kate Middleton, not Cleopatra.”

  “Boring.” Liv shook her head, but followed instructions.

  “Tell him he should be ashamed of himself for what he did to Mandy Monroe.” Jillian handed me my purse.

  “OK, I’ll start with that,” I teased her.

  “Tell him he’s a corporate brand. He’s not making music. He’s making money.” Liv always sounded so angry.

  “OK, thanks! Wish me luck!”

  “Good luck!” they called after me as I walked out the front door and then down three flights of stairs. I didn’t know how the winds of fate had paired me with these roommates, but I thanked them. Liv and Jillian were pure entertainment.

  The wind whipped, but my coat, scarf and excitement kept me warm. All the way on the subway, I kept smiling and nearly wanting to pinch myself. Ash Black. He could have any woman he wanted, and he’d asked me to join him tonight! It seemed impossible, and who knew, maybe when I’d get to that hotel he wouldn’t even be there. It might have all been a dr
eam.

  But maybe not. Maybe he’d be waiting for me and we’d have a lovely time together. Crazier things happened, right? This was exactly the type of adventure I’d hoped I’d find when I moved to the city. My favorite rock star stumbling into the library where I worked and somehow seeming to become instantly smitten with me. Even as I thought of it, it seemed impossible.

  But off at the Spring Street stop and down a couple of blocks I strode into the entrance of the Soho Grand Hotel, found my way to the bar and there he was, Ash Black. Sitting at the bar talking with the bartender. The soft lighting and old world grandeur of the surroundings made him look straight out of a movie set. But he was so gorgeous he probably made everything look like a movie, that sweep of dark hair, his strong jaw and that flash of white teeth as he smiled. He turned as I walked in and when he saw me a slow, sexy smile crept across his handsome face. He made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the room.

  “You came.” He stood up to greet me, wrapping his arms around me as if no sight could please him more. The kiss he gave me on my cheek met all the technical qualifications of casual, but it instantly set my blood to simmer, the feel of his full lips against my skin.

  “Hi.” I gave him a shy smile, all the exhilaration I’d felt bubbling up inside of me on the way over melting into nervousness at the sight of him. He looked so cool, so sexy, his black boots with just the right amount of scuff, a thick leather bracelet on his wrist, a tattoo on his thumb.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. “I can get you something off the menu. They have amazing raw oysters.”

  “Oh, no thanks.” I’d grabbed a hot pretzel from a cart before I’d run into the subway after my last piano lesson of the night. It wasn’t much, but tonight it was all I could stomach. Too many butterflies fighting for the space.

  “How about a cocktail?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you have a favorite, or…?” He looked at me, so solicitous and expectant, and possibly even hotter than he had looked that afternoon. He’d obviously shaved, though I liked him with stubble as well. His black collared shirt was open a couple of buttons and I could see a few thin, braided leather necklaces around his neck, then the lick of a tattoo at the side. Yes, please.