Torn (Lords of the City #1)

by Alice Ward

  “So you like them?”

  “I love them. What’s happening between Ronald and me is such a whirlwind, but sometimes it takes a tornado to unravel what’s meant to be. I’m really happy with him. I just hope he doesn’t disappoint me.”

  “That’s a natural fear to have,” I told her, “but seeing how much he wanted you to meet his family, I’d say he feels the same way you do.”

  “I’m certain he does, but sometimes love isn’t enough. Look at you and Noah. Men don’t always realize what they have until it’s gone.”

  That hadn’t been the case with Corey. I had left, and he hadn’t followed. Struck by a thought, my belly tightened in knots. Maybe Corey wasn’t supposed to return to the Midwest with me. Maybe I was meant to stay in Thailand with him. If I had, I wouldn’t be in love with a man uninterested in a long-term commitment. I’d be settled, traveling the world with the rebel Stafford brother, his tattooed arms holding me beneath stars that weren’t replicated on a ceiling but were real, a product of their own light.

  But then I never would have met my father.

  My head began to pound, and I pushed my bowl away.

  “Everything okay?” Julia asked.

  “There’s something I haven’t told you. Peter knows, but only because he figured it out on his own. Corey and I were more than friends in Thailand. I mean, we weren’t in a relationship or anything, and we didn’t sleep together. I left before we had a chance to. But there was something momentous between us. It’s hard to explain. Like a spider to its web. If anyone can understand, I think you can. Things between you and Ronald heated up quickly.”

  “That it did,” Julia acknowledged. She seemed a little disturbed.

  “What is it?”

  “Is Noah a replacement for Corey?”

  “Of course not,” I said with absolute certainty. “I’ve gotten to know Noah way better than I did Corey. I love Noah for who he is, not the brother he looks like.”

  Bypassing the fact that I’d just declared my love for Noah out loud, Julia asked, “Then why do you still talk of Corey with stars in your eyes?”

  I was caught. “Because Corey could have offered me something Noah can’t. Commitment. Before I got on my flight home, Corey promised to find me. I really believed he would, especially after I was hired at Stafford Scientific, but I haven’t heard from him, and he clearly isn’t here, nor has he been in many years, so I’ve heard.”

  “I hate to say it, but the email he sent to Mr. Stafford did have an air of finality about it. A man doesn’t ask another man to take care of his girl unless he doesn’t plan on coming back.”

  “I know,” I conceded. “The promises he made were never going to be lived up to.”

  “Then why does it still bother you? Now that you’ve been in Noah’s bed, isn’t the situation moot?”

  “I can’t help but wonder if I should have stayed in Thailand. It hasn’t been that long since I was there. I can go back, and I can find him. He would never have to know about my agreement with Noah. It’s not like they chat or anything,” I blathered, my mouth flying as my war of emotions got the better of me. “Considering what a maverick he is, he’d probably be miserable here. We’d have ended up traveling anyway.”

  “Imogen, slow down,” Julia said, standing. She moved to my side of the table and put her arms around me, offering comfort. “I think you’re running. Noah has just done an incredible thing for you, and it scares you because of this front he puts up, claiming he’s not interested in a long-term relationship. Noah loves you. It’s so obvious it’s blinding. And this is only the beginning. You still have almost an entire year together. Forget what he says now. When the time comes that he could lose you, he’ll be at your door begging for you to stay.”

  It helped. “Thanks,” I said, smiling weakly. “Crises over.”

  “Good,” she said. “Now eat your stew. The convention is going to kick all our asses.”

  ***

  Holding a black garment bag over my shoulder, I hurried behind Noah and Peter into the hotel where the World Science Convention would be held the next morning. The hotel was stupendous, a beautiful collision of antique gold embellishments and contemporary furnishings designed simply, an undertone to the cascading chandeliers and textured wallpaper. Beneath the thin soles of my slippers, the rich burgundy carpet was lush, like the grass of a meadow.

  “I can take that for you,” Peter offered for the zillionth time, reaching for my garment bag.

  “I’m not incapable of carrying my own gown,” I said with a reassuring smile. Ever since the bellhop had taken our luggage, Peter seemed a bit lost, as if he were unaccustomed to being idle when Noah stood so close.

  At reception, a woman with her hair pinned back into a tight bun and wearing dark red lipstick greeted us. When she saw Noah, her mouth dropped. I didn’t blame her. In his custom-designed suit that fit his body like a glove, he could be standing in a pile of garbage and women would throw their panties at him. Here, amongst the elegance of the hotel, he was like a god in Olympus.

  “Reservation for Stafford,” I said, but she was already typing his name into the computer.

  Announcing our arrival gave me deja vu. It bugged me, but I didn’t figure out why, not until the next receptionist down the line spoke into his phone. “I’m sorry. We can’t accommodate any reservation changes this late in the game. The hotel is fully booked for the convention.”

  Quickly, I turned to Noah. “I have something to tell you,” I said like lightening, trying to beat our receptionist to the punch. “Before she transferred to another department, Julia made a little upgrade to my room. And Peter’s. It was only meant to be a joke. I would have changed it back to the original reservation, but I completely forgot about it until now.”

  “Calm down,” Noah instructed. “I know about it, and I also made a few alterations. We’re all in the same suite, the best the hotel has to offer.”

  Exhaling, I straightened my garment bag across my shoulder. Of course he knew about Julia’s audacious call. He was Noah Stafford. If a mouse sneezed, he’d probably detect it.

  “Does that mean we get to keep the bottle of champagne?” I chanced. It had been so long since I’d tasted alcohol. I didn’t count the Guinness in the stew Julia had served, mostly because I’d barely touched it, and also because the good stuff had been cooked out.

  “When the convention is over,” he allowed. “But only if I’m in the room with you. No alcohol before then. We both need to focus. There’s a lot riding on these next three days.”

  “Okay, boss,” I said, realizing that even though Noah stood tall and composed, he was stressed, the importance of the nanotechnology research weighing on his bones.

  “Sir,” he corrected. “That’s how you’re supposed to address me. Peter,” he called out.

  “Yes, sir?” Peter answered.

  “Like that,” Noah said to me, his command betrayed by the humor in his eyes. “You should follow Peter’s example.”

  I huffed. “You wish.”

  Noah took a private elevator to the suite, but tempted by the size of the grand staircase that led from the lobby to our floor, Peter and I decided to go the long way, racing up the steps like school kids. Peter won by a long shot.

  “Victory,” he cried from the top.

  “That’s only because I was carrying my garment bag. I declare a rematch when my hands are empty.”

  That didn’t happen. For the rest of the day, I was buried in preparations for the opening of the convention. The Special Events department within Stafford Scientific was responsible for most of the organizing, but they were required to ask Noah’s authorization for practically everything. With the nanotechnology reveal looming, Noah was occupied with bigger matters, so he made me his eyes. Not only did I have to ensure the meeting rooms were set up exactly to Noah specifications, and that the lunch menus were precisely to order, and the water was alkaline, but I also had to act as the ambassador of the company, greeting the spea
kers and their partners as they filtered into the hotel. When a spontaneous dinner between the speakers was organized amongst themselves, I attended in Noah’s place.

  “So you’re also a scientist?” a woman asked me over lemon lobster cakes, after I had answered her enquiries of the school I’d attended.

  “That’s what my master’s degree says, but I had a hard time finding work.”

  “It can be tough,” she confirmed, followed by the nodding of a few heads from those seated around us listening. “Especially when your field is so specialized. It took me five years before I was in a position to fully apply my field of interest. Stick in there, Imogen. If Stafford Scientific can’t give you what you’re after, I’m sure there’s someone out there who can.”

  ***

  Trapped in lurid dreams that soaked my sheets in sweat, I was thankful when I finally woke up. I couldn’t remember the nightmares I’d endured, but my skin itched, as if a nest of ants had crawled over me throughout the night. Yawning loudly, I picked up my phone and looked at the time, wondering how early breakfast was served.

  Immediately, I jumped out of bed. Either I had forgotten to turn on my alarm, or I had shut it off amid the darkness of my dreams, but I was running late. There was no time for breakfast. There was barely any time to get dressed.

  Noah is going to be furious, I thought with angst as I quickly brushed my teeth and threw on my outfit, grateful I had picked it out the night before. It was the form-fitting indigo dress I had worn my first day at the office. Noah had approved it yesterday evening before retiring to his own room, maintaining that we needed our rest.

  Strapping on my wrist device, more important than my phone, I ran into Noah’s room, wondering why he hadn’t woken me on such an important day. I found him standing in front of the mirror above his dresser, his hands shaking as he attempted to straighten his tie.

  Never before had I seen Noah so undone. I realized this might be the scariest moment of his career. It wasn’t that in less than an hour he’d be speaking in front of thousands, nor that his presentation would be televised. His hands trembled because he lacked control over the outcome. For reasons he kept to himself, nanotechnology was the pinnacle of his efforts in founding Stafford Scientific, and now he was at the mercy of the world as to whether or not he would be given a chance to prove all the good his nanotechnology could do.

  “It’ll be okay,” I assured him as I helped him with his tie. “The medical community will fall at its knees to collaborate with you, and you’ll win over the public too. Soon, your robots will be running around our bodies like tiny little workmen.”

  He merely grunted in reply.

  Smoothing down the pleats of his jacket, I made sure he was ready to go. “No socks stuck to your butt. You’re all set.”

  I stepped away, but he grabbed my hand. “Thank you, Imogen. For everything. It means a lot. You mean… well, thank you.”

  “Anytime,” I said, smiling, enjoying the warmth of his hand. I held my arm out to him. “Shall we go?”

  Not long after, I stood backstage at the theater next to the hotel, listening as Noah gave his presentation. Behind the glare of the spotlights and the television cameras, the seats were full, the house sold out. As calm as steel, Noah was the master of the stage. I’d seen him at his most tyrannical, and I’d seen him at his most charming, but I had never seen him so statesmanlike. He truly was a king. The pull I had towards him destroyed me. I didn’t want the agreement any longer. I wanted something real. And I wanted it with him.

  ***

  Before I knew it, the three days of madness that was the World Science Convention were over, and I was in my room in the suite dressing for the gala, the ceremonial ball that marked the end of infinite lectures and table discussions. Most of the convention had been held in the hotel, but like Noah’s presentation, the gala would be in the theater next door. Unofficially, it was the start of my week off.

  Everything we had worked so hard for had gone by in a flash. I didn’t remember much about the convention, only that there was a flood of congratulations and a lot of future meetings scheduled between Stafford Scientific and the medical bigwigs.

  Noah had warned me that though I was his date, we wouldn’t see much of each other, not when he had influential people to liquor up and make final pitches to. Regardless, I would make the most of it. I was a scientist too. Those at the gala were my colleagues. I would dance and chat with my peers, all while wearing a gorgeous frock.

  Draped across my bed was a stunning gold gown with capped sleeves that Noah had left for me. It would stay on my bed, a sleeping beauty. From my closet, I pulled out the garment bag I had brought in with me and unzipped it, revealing the dress I would actually be wearing to the gala, my own selection. Beaded with silver and turquoise, it modestly covered my chest while exposing my back with a low cut that nearly reached my behind. My grandma had worn it in the forties. It was an heirloom that I planned to exhibit as often as I could. Prom was checked off the list. As was my graduation dinner. And now the gala.

  So that the back of the dress could serve its purpose, I pulled my hair into a loose up-do with tendrils cascading around my neck, sticking a silver comb in the center to hold it all together. I applied a natural gloss to my lips that complimented my smoky eyes. Julia had applied my makeup for me, an artist with a blush brush. To my disappointment, she wouldn’t be attending the gala, too tired to continue making small talk with the scientists.

  I was as good as I was going to get. Making sure I had my room key and phone in my purse, I left the suite barefoot and took the grand staircase down to the lobby, the carpet like cashmere against my every footstep. Noah and Peter waited for me below in identical white-tie tuxedos that Noah had purposefully matched to show Peter the potential of what the boy genius could become — an innovator who not only helped the world but made billions in the process.

  “Wow,” they said in unison when I joined them.

  Beaming, Noah brushed his finger over my cheek, his adoration evident in the lightness of his touch. “That’s not the dress I left for you.”

  “No, but it’s the one I’m wearing.”

  He looked down at my feet. “You could have at least worn the heels I bought. You can’t expect me to allow you to walk across a dirty sidewalk with no shoes on.”

  “It takes less than a minute to get to the theater, and before you say anything, those black fuzzy slippers are not an option. Your rules are ridiculous,” I snapped.

  Peter spoke up. “I have an idea, sir.”

  Shortly after, like a swan in a cage, I stood upon a gilded cart the bellhops used to bring the luggage of guests to their room. Peter pushed me to the theater next door, Noah walking by our side, but I wouldn’t talk to him. I was too mortified.

  “Ridiculous,” I repeated when I hopped off onto the red carpet and marched into the gala on my own.

  When I’d last been in the theater, the interior had been a bit dull, its elegance destroyed by synchronic banners and cardboard displays of the new technologies companies around the world had invented. Now, the historic elements of the place demanded attention, from its brass chandeliers to vintage photos of Hollywood stars who had performed on its stage. Purposefully leaving Noah behind, I sauntered into the theater room with as much poise as I could muster.

  The seats had been removed, replaced with round, formally dressed banquet tables and chairs, between which plenty of space remained for guests to socialize and dance. It was convenient because the floor was jammed pack as a band played on the stage. A darkness shaded the room, the only illumination the blue lights that manipulated the senses into believing the room was outside, a celebration of the night.

  “Don’t be mad,” Noah whispered, wrapping his arms around me. He kissed my neck with the gentleness of a breeze. “You look too beautiful to be mad.”

  “Do I still get to drink champagne?” I asked, lightening up.

  “Only if I’m in the same room as you,” he murmur
ed, kissing my neck again as he ran a finger down my bare spine.

  “Good thing this is a big room,” I replied.

  Laughing, he stepped away, seemingly unashamed of the bulge in his pants. “Put it on the tab, but don’t let Peter have any. He may talk with the intelligence of someone well beyond his years, but he’s still underage.”

  “Good luck with your final pitches,” I bid him.

  “Good luck dancing without shoes,” he replied, grinning before he disappeared into the crowd.

  Thirsty, I floated to the nearest bar. “One very tall glass of champagne, please,” I ordered.

  “When Noah Stafford goes hunting, he really knows how to bag the good ones,” a man beside me said, smirking.

  Hurry up with my champagne, I willed. I have someone’s head to dump it over.

  The man had the aura of the devil. Not a tyrant or a sinner, but Lucifer himself, a puppeteer of destruction. He was handsome, with black hair and gray eyes, but there was nothing attractive about the way he leered or the brashness twisted in the knuckle rings around his fingers.

  “I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable,” he continued, persistent. “Every year Noah brings his personal assistants to these events, and they get more and more beautiful. I wonder who he’ll be bringing next year.”

  “And you are?”

  “A friend,” he replied smoothly, running his eyes down my body. “Maybe more.”

  “Get lost.”

  He didn’t budge. “Imogen, my lovely, is that really a way to talk to someone who’s trying to help you? I’ve done my research. You’re wasting your potential locked up on that top floor. Do something for me, and I’ll give you riches beyond your wildest dreams, enough to travel. Maybe to Thailand.”

  Shocked, I froze. How the hell did he know about Thailand? My instincts took charge. Instead of storming away, I tried to gather counter intel on him. “And what is it you want me to do?” I asked, forthright.