“Thank you.” I hand him the envelope.
“Miss Renard, if you have any other jewelry you wish to dispose of, please call me directly. And might I suggest choosing another place to live?” With a slight dip of his head, he turns and walks to the waiting limo. A huge dude appears to open the door for him. He gets in and they drive off. When I go to head inside, someone grabs me from behind and drags me to the side of the building. As soon as I start to scream, a hand clamps over my mouth, cutting off my cry for help.
Chapter 8
Prescott
Joe Delvecchio never knew what or who nailed him. I waited until he made bail. When he exited the jail, I watched the little fucker prance around as though he didn’t have a care in the world. Little did he know. Later that night, I gave him a broken nose and a few broken ribs. Figured what goes around …
He fought like a girl, trying to scratch me, and whined like a fucking baby, too. The pussy. Too bad he didn’t grow up learning how to properly fight, like I did. I wouldn’t have minded a challenge. It would’ve been an excuse to do more damage. One punch and he sagged, and when the second came, he dropped like the dead. I left him lying there, crying like a little girl, the greasy-headed douche.
I’d made sure it was dark, so he couldn’t see my face. Kept my mouth shut the whole time, too, though I didn’t want to. I wanted to tell him it was all for Vivi, but I didn’t. If he ever so much as tries to get near her again, I’ll castrate the little prick.
She didn’t leave her place for days, but when she finally did she went job searching. This woman. I was a little stunned by her.
The guys keep a close watch on her while I work. I can’t slack off in that regard. But tonight, I decided to drop by and see what she’s up to. I come up to her apartment building and that’s when I spot her.
She’s talking to some guy with a damn limo, who clearly doesn’t belong in this neighborhood. Then I see her exchanging—what is that? Drugs?—for an envelope. There can only be money inside.
Holy fuck it all. This woman is going to be the death of me.
So I do something kinda stupid. I grab her. Scare the shit out of her, too, which I hate.
She sinks her teeth into my finger and now it’s me who wants to scream.
Putting my mouth next to her ear, I say, “Hush, Vivi. It’s me, Prescott. I’ll let you go if you promise not to yell.” I shift her body so she can see my face. Large, frightened eyes stare back at mine. “Okay?”
She gives her assent with a slight bob.
The demure, terror-stricken doe quickly morphs into the growling little wolf cub. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You scared me to death.”
“Me? What the hell are you doing? Selling drugs now?”
“What are you talking about?”
Her heaving chest distracts me momentarily and I don’t answer.
“Are you going to stand and stare or will you answer me?”
Grabbing her arm, I pull her inside the building.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Going inside. We’re not going to discuss this on the street.”
“I didn’t invite you in.” She tries to snatch her arm away, but I don’t let go.
I decided to check on her tonight, because I was concerned about the recent accounts I’ve been receiving since the near rape. She is jobless, close to being penniless, and seeking employment. She’s never called, of course, and her activity outside the apartment has been minimal until yesterday. Then I show up to see this interaction with some high-class dude and all I can think of to explain it is that she’s gotten so desperate, she’s resorted to selling drugs.
We get to her apartment door and I say, “You can unlock it, or I can break it down. Your choice.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Not a damn thing. Your choice, Vivi.”
She takes out a key and turns the lock. When we walk inside, I’m utterly appalled she lives in a place like this. I knew it would be bad, given the location, but I never expected it to be this bad.
“You live here?”
Her eyes narrow. “What kind of a stupid question is that?”
A quick scan of the tiny apartment tells me everything I need to know. She needs to get the hell out of here. “Pack your things. You’re moving.”
“Oh? And exactly where would I be moving to?”
“I own a building. You can rent one of the units in it.”
“I can barely afford this one.”
“You won’t have to pay me until you find a job.” I dare her to say she can’t afford it now.
“I have a job. I still can’t afford it. Besides, what makes you think you can push me around?”
“I’m not. I’m trying to help, to make your life better.”
She laughs. “Right.” She drags the word out. “Then you’d have me exactly where you’d want me. I’d owe you, Prescott, and I refuse to be dangling from your hook.”
Pointing to the only piece of furniture in the room, which is an old shabby chair, I say, “Sit.”
“I’m not your damn dog, either.”
“Please.”
We fight a battle through our glares. She’s tough. Most people would shrivel beneath my unrelenting gaze, but not Vivi Renard. She’s grown quite a pair since Crestview. She has somehow managed to fill her spine with steel.
“Fine, don’t sit. Would you please tell me what I witnessed on the street tonight?”
“Not until you tell me why the fuck you’re stalking me. It’s pretty creepy, Prescott.”
She has me cornered. Vivi must be one hell of a chess player. Scraping my teeth over my lower lip, I think over how I’m going to handle this. “You’ll probably find this hard to believe, but I’ve been worried about you.”
There, that is part of the truth, after all.
Her eyes widen ever so slightly, just long enough for me to catch it. “Why would you, of all people, be worried about me?”
“You’re my friend. I worry about my friends,” I answer with a shrug.
“Prescott, we are not friends. You used me. Yeah, you compensated me nicely, but nevertheless, if I hadn’t been smart, you would’ve never spoken to me at Crestview. That wasn’t a friendship. So for the life of me, I can’t understand why you want anything to do with me now.”
I run a hand through my hair, because she’s right. Yeah, I sort of had a soft spot for her, but if her brains hadn’t been a part of the picture back then, I would’ve never noticed her to begin with. Her brilliance isn’t what interests me now. She’s fucking gorgeous and I want her. But it’s become more than that. I’ve become obsessed with Vivi Renard. My desire for her has surpassed the level of fanatical … it’s damned obscene.
“You haven’t answered my question. Were you selling drugs to that guy?”
She puffs out a breath. “Do you honestly think I’d do something like that?”
Flinging my arm out, I say, “Look at this place. I wouldn’t blame you. I’m pretty fucking sure you’d do anything to get out of here. You don’t even have a stove. Or a proper bed to sleep on. It’s only November and it’s fucking freezing in here. Does your landlord even turn on the heat? What’s it going to be like in the dead of winter when it’s really cold outside?”
Her lips press together in a hard line. Man, have I hit a nerve.
“You know what? You’re right. I don’t have the luxury of living in a fancy place, which I’m sure you do. I wasn’t lucky like you are. The reason I was meeting that guy tonight was to sell a piece of jewelry I inherited from my mom. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that. Unfortunately, it didn’t work out that way. The check I received will enable me to keep this lowdown apartment and will save me from financial ruin until I can find another job—not that it’s any of your damn business.”
Jesus. The fuck. Now I feel like the world’s biggest douche. I hold out my hand to her … for what? So she can tell me to stick it up my ass, where it belongs?
Deciding to switch tactics, I ask, “Have you eaten yet?”
“No. I was going to make some Ramen noodles after my transaction. I don’t suppose you’d want some?” she asks sarcastically.
“I actually love Ramen. How about we go find the real thing?”
Vivi cocks her head and drills me with her gaze. “On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You don’t go batshit possessive on me.”
“Deal.”
We head out of her apartment, she locks up behind her, and we go to the car that awaits me.
“You have a car? You’re so spoiled.”
“I have no comment for that.” I check my phone for the closest restaurant that sells the best Ramen and locate a place in Manhattan. Then I instruct the driver to take us there.
“Manhattan?” Vivi asks. “There isn’t one in Brooklyn?”
“Not the best. I want the best.”
After another huff from her, she settles into the seat.
“Tell me why you had to sell that piece of jewelry.” I want the specifics.
“I already told you.”
“I mean, why are you in such financial straits? You weren’t that way at Crestview. Well, I knew you needed money, but I thought it was for spending, you know, fun.”
“How would you know?” She sits up and angles her body toward me. “You never paid attention to me.”
“Nobody went to Crestview who had serious financial issues. Crestview gave very little aid and never gave scholarships.”
“Why are you so nosy?”
“I’m not. I’m trying to figure you out. You came from a well-to-do family, went to an upper crust school, graduated from MIT, for fuck’s sake, and now you’re practically slumming. No, you are slumming by anyone’s definition, even yours. What gives, Vivi?”
“It’s none of your damn business, Prescott.”
“I’m making it my business. Your family obviously doesn’t give a fuck. Somebody has to.”
Her hand snakes out to slap me, but I catch her wrist before she has a chance. “What the hell?”
“Leave my family out of this,” she says through clenched teeth as her body trembles.
“You can either tell me or I’ll find out on my own.”
She instantly sags against the seat and her balled up hands rub at her eyes. After a long pause, she begins. “My dad died in a car wreck while I was at Crestview. I was only twelve.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“You probably weren’t there then,” she says.
“Yeah, I was. I started Crestview when I was eleven.”
“Well, Dad was killed in a car accident and left behind a ton of debt. Mom sold the big house, moved us to a smaller one, and we managed. Or I thought we did. I wanted to transfer to the public school, but she preferred I stay at Crestview. I did it to make her happy. It was stupid, because it added to her mounting debt. She mortgaged the house to the hilt. She hid it from me and I had no idea how bad it was. Then came MIT. Even then she never let on.” She pauses, shaking her head to herself, even as her hands clench.
“After I graduated, I landed a job in California. I was doing well and could’ve helped, but she pretended everything was great … until she got sick. It was ALS. She was ill for almost three years, which was why I moved back to Virginia—to care for her. The bills were enormous still. I gave up my job and didn’t have any income to cover everything, even after selling the house.”
She goes into detail of how she stayed with her mother until the end. Vivi gave up an exploding career to care for her dying mother. But the two plus years she spent in Virginia were the nail on the coffin of Vivi’s career and her rise up the ladder to success. Now no one wants to hire her, and I get that. It’s hard to bring someone back into the fold after they’ve lost the momentum of growth and been away from the industry for that length of time. It’s not impossible, but it’s especially true of the tech industry where things change at the speed of light. If you have a huge gap and you’re behind the eight ball, oftentimes you need a door opener. And Vivi doesn’t have one. Or she didn’t—until me.
“So that’s why I was selling one of Mom’s bracelets. It was one of two pieces I have left.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?” It bothers me she didn’t.
She glares at me. “I don’t want to owe you anything, because then you can show up and collect any time you want.”
“No. That’s not … I’d never do that.” It’s disappointing she thinks of me that way.
The car comes to a stop and I see we’ve arrived at our destination. “Let’s talk about this over dinner.”
They’re crowded, so I use my persuasive skills—also known as bribery—and score us a table. After we’re seated, Vivi shoots me a pointed stare and asks, “Do you always do this?”
“Do what?”
“Hand out money like candy?”
“Like I told you before, only when it achieves the desired outcome. We were in need of a table and a couple of c-notes did the trick.”
“A couple of c-notes. What about all those people who were here before us?”
I shrug. “They were welcome to pass the host a few bucks, too.”
She glares at me in disgust. It’s obvious she has a disdain for the way I throw money around. “Maybe they didn’t have a few bucks.”
“The host had the option of saying no, too, you know. He’s the one who should carry the blame. After all, he knew there were people waiting longer than us.”
This hits home and it’s an inarguable point. She sits back and sips her water.
“I know you have a great disdain for my money, but I don’t understand why. Help me get there.”
“It’s not the money. It’s how you use it.”
“Vivi, I’m willing to help you, no strings attached. I’m serious.”
The waiter comes by and takes our order. Vivi gawks as I order enough food for ten. She’s hungry and what we don’t eat, she can take home.
“Do you actually plan to eat everything you ordered?” she asks.
“I have a large appetite and wanted to sample a few things. We can share. You can take home the rest.”
She nods, but the skepticism stays in her eyes.
“So, can we come to some sort of agreement, Vivi?”
“What kind of agreement?”
“You’ll let me help you without any conditions whatsoever, and as friends only.” I nearly groan when the words come out of my mouth. How did I all of a sudden turn into a fucking boy scout?
Realistically, there is no way in hell I plan on hanging around Vivi Renard without trying to get her into my bed. But I’d never blackmail her into it. I fully plan on using other ways to convince her. Plain and simple, I have one goal and that is to fuck Vivi until she begs for mercy, or better yet, for more. And when she does, she’ll do it willingly.
Chapter 9
Vivi
Why is he being so damned considerate all of a sudden? My last couple of encounters with him weren’t like this at all. What happened to asshole Prescott—the guy who thinks he owns everyone? Asshole Prescott is self-serving and domineering. Which makes me wonder what happened to the guy I remember from high school. Sure, he was sort of full of himself back then, but in his own way, he was always decent to me. Yeah, he needed me and used me, but still. This sudden consideration for my well-being reminds me of that kid, just a little. At least more than asshole Prescott, anyway. In any case, I have to respond to his proposal.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think that’s possible.”
His eyes bore a hole into me. The urge to flinch is as strong as if I’d suddenly been stung by a wasp. By sheer force of will, I stand firm. Actually, I have to press my legs together and remind myself that running out of here like my hair’s on fire will accomplish nothing. Folding my hands, I place them in my lap and clench them tightly together.
His unrelenting glare doesn’t ce
ase. Neither does mine. I won’t back down and lose this game he likes to play. I won’t allow him to make me the weaker one at this table. My hands turn numb from the pressure, but I don’t care.
Finally, his lids shutter his gaze and I relax a bit.
“You surprise me, Vivi.”
“Me? Why?”
“You’re different.”
“How?” I ask. I’m curious to hear his reply.
There are a few things about me that have changed since he knew me. My physical appearance for one, but I’m also no longer the demure girl he once knew.
When I got to MIT, I recognized in order to get ahead in the world, I needed to be more assertive. That’s when I grew a backbone. It wasn’t easy by any means. At first, it was a stretch to sit in front of the class instead of the back where I was most comfortable. I nearly had anxiety attacks over taking the lead on class projects. Yet, in continually forcing myself to become the person I wanted to be, it became easier to be that person over time.
That’s also when the pounds dropped off. I worried less over what I was putting in my mouth and more about what was important to me. The weight came off gradually and by the time two years passed, I was down six sizes.
“Your appearance, for one. But you’re … stronger, too.”
“I should hope so. That girl you knew in high school was bullied, and let herself continually be.” I shake my head in disgust. “It probably didn’t matter to you then. It makes sense. You were so caught up in your own popularity. The wonderful Prescott Beckham. All you had to do was smile and it set all the girls’ panties on fire. One click of your fingers and off they’d run.”
I don’t mean to sound so bitter, but every time I think of those nasty bitches and how awful they made me feel, the emotions roll out of me uncontrollably.
“You act like it’s my fault. I never did anything they didn’t want.”
I blow out a long breath. “No, you didn’t. And to be fair, you were never mean to me. But you lived in your own cushy little world, Prescott. I’m sorry. My memories of Crestview aren’t exactly as warm and fuzzy as yours.”
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