by Leroux, Lucy
Incredulous, Liam said, “Sergei’s Eva? She poached Peyton?”
Trick avoided his eyes. “I don’t think it counts as poaching if the person is ready to leave. This job is at Adstringo—the tech company that’s in the news all the time. It’s kind of a big deal, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, yadda, yadda…”
So what? Peyton wouldn’t leave for a flashy start-up. She was too smart to put her eggs in a basket that might declare bankruptcy in a year or two.
Except Sergei was behind the company, which meant it wouldn’t be floundering any time soon—if ever.
“This is insane,” Liam groused, waving a hand as if he could ward off more thing he didn’t want to hear. “I’m going down to her office to talk to her in person.”
“It’s too late. She’s gone.”
“What? She didn’t even give two weeks’ notice?”
“Nope. Not that she could have. You know how the start-up world is. When they want something, they want it yesterday. Maggie and Jason helped her pack up and ship her place over the weekend. She’s gone. Moved to California late last week…and she’s not coming back.”
Liam had an overwhelming urge to get up and deck his brother, but that would have been shooting the messenger. “Is she still mad about Caroline usurping her party? I know it was bad timing, but Peyton can’t be holding a grudge. If she is, I’ll make it up to her.”
Shaking his head, Trick stood. He put his hands on his hips with an air of frustrated exhaustion. “Don’t bother, Liam. We were on borrowed time with her. She’s determined to make a new life in California, one that won’t include us. Just…just let her go.”
Stunned, Liam clenched his fist. Peyton was one of Trick’s best friends. “I don’t get how you can be so—so blasé about this? Why aren’t you willing to fight for her?”
His brother’s laugh was sharp and short. “Liam, I love you, but you’re a fucking idiot. About this matter, you always have been.”
Trick went to the door, opened it, then pivoted to scrutinize him hard. “Can I ask you something? Did you really think Peyton was going to stick around to watch you marry someone else?”
His brother didn’t wait for an answer. A moment later, the door swung shut behind him, leaving Liam alone, gut-punched. He staggered to his feet, pressing a fist against his belly until the urge to be sick all over his desk passed.
Chapter 6
One month later
Liam gripped the steering wheel, scanning the street for approaching cars. What the fuck am I doing?
He sat in a parked car, stalking his little sister’s best friend. He’d been here for four hours, and he didn’t even know why. It wasn’t as if he could talk Peyton into moving back.
It had been a hellish month since she had moved. Maggie was miserable, and both Trick and Jason were short-tempered. It felt as if the entire staff of the Boston Caislean was downcast. No one smiled in Liam’s presence anymore.
Except for Caroline. The woman had been looking at an endless stream of linens, table settings, and flowers. She was probably buried in pattern books at this moment. Needless to say, she hadn’t noticed that anything was off.
It was going to be all right, he thought, uncomfortably aware his words felt like a lie. Trick had been right when he’d said they couldn’t keep someone of Peyton’s caliber stuck working in their IT department.
He fingered the check his accountant had sent over a few days ago. It was from Peyton. She’d addressed it to the Caislean instead of to him personally. However, the memo portion of the check made what it was supposed to be for clear.
50% tuition + 50% DC debt.
The reference to tuition had been self-explanatory, but the accountant had wanted to know what bill Peyton had run up in Washington D.C. that hadn’t been comped by the hotel. Liam ordered the check to be sent to him directly, without explaining that D.C. stood for Donald Carson, Peyton’s father.
The money must have come from her Adstringo signing bonus. In the last month, Liam had done a lot of reading about the company. Even he had to concede the hotel must seem incredibly dull compared to the work being done there.
I should have given her more to do. Perhaps if he’d given Peyton more responsibilities, she wouldn’t have gotten bored. He could have easily matched whatever this Silicon Valley outfit was paying her.
Except you know it’s not about the money. Peyton had been determined to pay off that old debt for years, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Now she was closing the book on it…and him. It was now obvious why.
He gritted his teeth. Do not go there.
Liam was spectacularly good at compartmentalizing. It was how he’d managed to keep the family business going when his parents died. How he’d gone on to establish an incredibly successful hotel chain. He focused on what needed to be done, and he never let anyone or anything get in his way. For example, he hadn’t asked himself why Peyton spent so much of their time together watching him when she thought he wasn’t looking. And he hadn’t ask himself why he’d always pretended not to notice. Had it really been because he hadn’t wanted to embarrass her?
Reaching over, he fingered the small velvet bag next to him. He’d found the charm bracelet in Peyton’s old apartment. She’d been so excited when he’d given it to her. Leaving it behind had to have been an oversight. He’d brought it with him so he could return it to her.
A car turned the corner. He sat up straighter, waiting for it to stop in front of the two-story McMansion Peyton was supposed to be sharing with a roommate. He’d filched the direction from his sister’s address book when Maggie had hedged and made excuses not to give it to him.
Liam held his breath as the sedan passed the house, then continued down the street.
Damn it. This was insane. He needed to get out of here. Liam reached for the ignition. He was about to press the button that would start the ignition when a black SUV turned the corner. This one stopped in front of the house.
Peyton stepped out of the backseat. Her brown hair was in a messy ponytail, and she carried a leather messenger bag that appeared to be heavy. She waved half-heartedly to the driver before dragging herself up the walk, the exhaustion of a long day transmitting with every step.
Liam got out of the car. He didn’t stop to think. If he had, he might have stopped to consider what a woman alone would do if she heard heavy footsteps running up behind her.
Yelping, Liam ducked just in time to avoid a small terra-cotta planter being hurled at his head.
“Stop right there, whoever you are!”
He straightened. “Peyton, it’s me.”
She drew herself up to her full height, shaking her head. “What the hell, Liam? You scared the crap out of me. What are you doing here?”
“I was on my way home from Sydney, but I added a layover at SFO. I’m…I’m here to see you,” he said, voice faltering.
Peyton’s face was drawn and pale. She was exhausted, but that was nothing new. They’d worked a lot of late nights together, but the way she watched him now was different. Then it hit him. This was the first time in his memory she hadn’t seemed happy to see him.
“It’s been a month, and you haven’t called,” he said when she continued to stare at him.
“I’ve been busy,” she muttered. “My new job is demanding. I called Maggie. Told her to say hi to everyone for me.”
“Did you?” For some reason, his sister hadn’t mentioned that to him. But it wouldn’t have made a difference. Liam had been used to talking to Peyton almost every day. Even when he’d been out of town or he’d sent her to another hotel to troubleshoot technical issues, he’d called her constantly for status updates.
“Can I buy you dinner?” He twisted his head to the moving curtain next to the door. Someone was there, but they didn’t want to be seen.
Peyton shook her head. “I ate at the office. There’s a big project due later this week.”
Liam frowned, wondering why her roommate was spying and hiding. “Then how ab
out a drink?”
“I’m sorry, Liam, but you should have called. It’s not a good night—not even a good week.”
He ran his hands over the front of his coat because he didn’t know what else to do with them. “I did call. Twice. You didn’t answer.”
Smile tight and fleeting, she shrugged. “I’ve been working long and irregular hours. Sorry. I haven’t been doing great at keeping in touch.”
Liam took a deep breath. He’d bet she wouldn’t have said the same to his younger siblings. In fact, he was certain he’d seen Trick laugh at a text message from her just last week.
“Are you coming home for Christmas?” he asked, his voice sharpening.
Peyton winced. “I don’t think I can get away.”
Liam shuffled his feet, frustration filling him. There were a million things he wanted to say, but there wasn’t a single one he could think of that could breach the invisible wall between them. “Can I come in for coffee at least? It’s a long drive.”
“Uh…”
Liam couldn’t believe it. “Are you serious? Can you not even pretend to be friends anymore?”
Peyton sighed. “I apologize, but I don’t want to make my roommate uncomfortable.”
He hadn’t expected to hear that. “What? Who do you live with?”
“His name is Dylan Nguyen. Maggie and I went to high school with him.”
It took him a moment to connect the dots. His lips parted, mouth dropping. “Your roommate is that drug dealer who got expelled?”
Was she serious? What the hell was she thinking?
Peyton’s expression shuttered. “That’s all in the past. Dylan is in tech now, just like me. But he remembers how people judged him for that one mistake. You were particularly vocal. And I don’t want him to be uncomfortable in his own home, so, no, I’m sorry—I can’t ask you in.”
She retreated another step, moving closer to the door. “Thanks for stopping by to check on me, but you should call next time. That way, you won’t waste a trip.”
Liam couldn’t move. Peyton moving away from him was something so unfamiliar, so unexpected, it felt as if he were in shock.
She smiled again. It was almost sad. Wistful. The glow from her porch light shadowed her face, but there was a distinct shimmer in her eyes. “Goodbye,” she breathed before hitching her bag higher on her shoulder.
He watched her, rooted to the spot, as Peyton opened the door and disappeared inside.
* * *
Peyton took the drink Dylan handed her without asking what it was. After she took a sip, she coughed as the liquid fire burned her throat all the way down.
“Is that battery acid?” she choked out, her eyes watering.
“Almost. It’s Wall Street Whiskey.” Dylan held up a matching glass of his own before sitting across from her. “It’s extremely popular in Vietnam. My dad used to blow his whole paycheck on the stuff.”
Cocking his head, he studied her face. “Have you recovered yet?”
Peyton shook her head. “I’m not sure you can recover from finding Liam Tyler on your doorstep after a twelve-hour day.”
Dylan shuddered sympathetically. “I don’t blame you at all. One glimpse of him from behind the curtain, and I was right back in high school. I would say he hasn’t changed, but that would be a big fat lie. He’s even more built than he was back then—how the hell does he run a hotel chain if he spends all that time in the gym?”
Peyton huffed out an unwilling laugh. “He likes to work out his frustrations.”
“What frustrations does he have? According to Forbes, he’s kicking ass and taking names.” Dylan took a sip, then reached over to pat her hand. “I’m sorry he came here.”
She ducked her head. Since moving, Dylan had become her confidante. Brokenhearted and unable to hide it, she’d spilled her guts about Liam, his engagement, and why she’d felt the need to move across the country out of the blue.
“Maybe it’s a sign,” he said. “You need to start dating. Try Tinder or something.”
Peyton winced. “I don’t think I can handle that. I need to start small.”
Dylan took another swig of his drink. “Why? I say jump in the deep end. What is that old saying? The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else?”
“I’ve never…I’ve never been one for casual sex,” she corrected.
Her friend watched her with a frown. “You were going to say something else.” His eyes widened. “Oh, my God.”
Peyton held up a finger. “Stop right there. Don’t say it.”
“You’ve never ever? Not with anyone?”
Groaning, she collapsed deeper in her chair. For years, she’d treated her virginity like a prize to be claimed by the right man. Only it was a prize no one wanted.
“I was saving myself for true love.” Peyton laughed, only so she wouldn’t cry.
Incredulously, he waved with his glass. “You need to get out there to make up for lost time. With your looks, you can have your pick of men. Hell, you can have several, one for each day of the week.”
“As if I have the time.” Her schedule at work wasn’t conducive to a love life.
“Well, don’t make the same mistake I did and date someone from work.” Dylan smirked. “Avoid that at all costs.”
She snorted. “Words to live by.”
Being in love with a coworker was a recipe for disaster, even when there was no relationship to speak of. Peyton took a second sip of the throat-scorching brew, swallowing it quickly. “I’ve been an asshole. Love is fiction—the stuff they use to sell tickets to movies and romance novels.”
Swirling her glass, she lifted it, watching the way the light filtered through the golden-brown liquid. “You’re right. It’s time to start dating.”
Dylan raised his glass in turn. “Cheers. Here’s to moving on.”
Chapter 7
Peyton collapsed against the door, her eyes closed. That was hands-down the worst date of her life. In the last few weeks, she’d been on enough to last her a lifetime.
The minute she’d put her profile up on the dating website, she’d been inundated by chat requests. Most had been unappealing—straight out requests to meet and have sex. She’d ignored those, cherry-picking a few of the more promising leads with disappointing results.
Tonight was supposed to be different. She’d been impressed enough by Dan Collier’s profile to go out of her way to meet him at a bar in Oakland. According to Google maps, the location was in a busy strip mall with several shops and restaurants. When she arrived, she found the area deserted. The various business that had made it seem like a safe and lively block shut down after dark. The only people out and about were drinking in the sparsely populated bar.
To add insult to injury, Dan Collier looked nothing like his picture. Peyton had been willing to overlook that detail if Collier proved half as charming as his profile. But the hopeful anticipation she’d felt died in the first few minutes of conversation. That was all her date had waited before launching into a hard sell to try to get her to have sex with him on the first date. The bar Collier had chosen was downstairs from his apartment. When she had turned him down, the creep had told her he felt sorry for her.
“Yeah, I’m okay with that,” she’d told him as she hurried to leave. She’d been kicking herself for her misplaced optimism the whole way home.
“Dylan,” she called, kicking off her shoes as she closed the front door behind her. “I’m home early. It went terrible—as usual. Have you eaten yet?”
Her roommate was almost always home before her. Rehashing her terrible dates over a few drinks had become something of a ritual. Not to mention she was starving. The bar hadn’t offered anything beyond pretzels to accompany their watered-down drinks.
Dylan sat in his usual armchair, but he didn’t have his tablet or laptop out. He looked up, a sheen covering his skin.
“I was hoping you would be in later, or not at all.”
Peyton checked her progress toward
him mid-step. “What’s going on?”
A tingle of misapprehension ran up her spine. Something was wrong. Dylan was sweating, and he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking behind her.
Feeling a sudden movement, she spun around. There were two men behind her, one thin and covered in tattoos. She didn’t get a good luck at the other larger one, but she felt his hands as he grabbed her by the shoulders.
“Is this her?” the smaller man said, walking around to Dylan’s side. The stranger ran his eyes over her as the big man forced her down into the seat across from them.
“What’s going on?” She twisted away from the restraining hold.
The tattooed man smiled. “Our mutual friend has struck a deal to cancel out his debt.”
“Debt? What debt?” Peyton’s head spun. Dylan was a successful programmer. He made plenty of money. Aside from his house and car, he didn’t have big expenses. He still wore the same brand of hoodies and jeans he’d favored in high school.
Dylan shuddered. “I’m so sorry, but I’ve run out of time.”
“Time for what?”
“To pay us back for the drugs he stole, of course,” the tattooed man said.
“Drugs?” Peyton’s stomach twisted. “You’re dealing again? What about your job?”
The one he never seemed to go to, her brain supplied at the eleventh hour, far too late for it to make a difference. Dylan left after she did in the morning. And he was always back before she got home, but she’d foolishly assumed it was because he had seniority at work.
“The company went belly up last year,” Dylan said. “I got another coding job, but they cut me loose. After that, I couldn’t get another job.”
“But good programmers are in demand,” she protested with an anxious glance at the man behind her. He didn’t have a gun in hand, but instinct told her that he was armed.
“He made more money selling our drugs. The hours were better. He had it made,” the man said with a thin smile. “At least until he decided it was easier to rob them.”
