by Hayes, Piper
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
Thank You
Copyright
CHAPTER 1
CATHERINE
“Catherine Carlisle, I’m on the list.” I say this with confidence because I’m always on the list. I can walk right into any club in Manhattan, eat at any restaurant without a reservation, and attend any party I want. Or at least I could until my father threw away our vast family fortune and bankrupted the company my great grandfather founded a hundred years ago.
The bouncer at the door shakes his head. “I’m sorry, miss. You’re not on the list.”
“Check again,” I say. It has been three months since I lost everything, three months since almost everyone I knew turned on me. Every causal acquaintance, every hanger-on, they all acted like I was radioactive. But getting held at the door of my best friend’s party? This is a new low. I look at the bald mountain of muscle in his black T-shirt and repeat my name. "Catherine Carlisle,” I say. “Felicity will be expecting me. We’ve been friends since kindergarten. I haven’t missed one of her birthday parties in over a decade.”
He looks down at his clipboard and shrugs. I get the sinking feeling that this isn’t some oversight and that my name really isn’t on the list. Moreover, I think he’s been told to turn me away. Three months ago, I’d have torn the doorman a new one for making me wait, but now, I’m not sure what to do.
“Can you just let me talk to her?” I say. The doorman gives me a shrug as if to say it’s above his pay grade. I try to tell myself that it’s not his fault, that either there was a mistake or Felicity is dead to me, but I can’t help myself. I blame him. I blame the meat-headed doorman. His eyes meet mine with a weird expression of pity and annoyance.
“There’s nothing I can do,” he says.
I turn and look up the street as I wonder what the hell I’m supposed to do now. It’s early summer, and it’s a warm night. I could walk back and enjoy one of my last remaining nights in my loft before I have to move out. I can open a bottle of wine and pretend for a while like none of this is real.
Then I feel a firm hand on my shoulder. “She’s with me,” someone says. The voice almost sounds familiar, but I can’t place it. It’s low and cool and confident.
“Of course, sir,” the doorman says. He nearly trips over himself as he rushes to open the door.
The hand slides across my back to my other shoulder, and ushers me inside. I catch a glimpse of the knight-in-shining-armor who decided to save me from the doorman. He’s tall and handsome. As soon as we’re through the door, I pull his hand off. “I could have taken care of that myself,” I say.
“You’re welcome to go back out and try your luck.” He grins as he looks at me. He holds his hand out. “I’m Blake. And you are?”
I look at him. He’s wearing a dark gray suit. Judging by the cut, it’s Armani. New money. Probably a wall street guy. He’s dressed a little formally for a birthday party, but his suit hugs his shoulders well enough that I’m not about to complain. I take note of the rest. Five o’clock shadow. No tie. Top two buttons on his shirt open. By habit, I look down at his ring finger. Single. Or at least unmarried. “You’re here for Felicity’s party and you really don’t know who I am?” I ask.
He’s still grinning. “Apparently the doorman doesn't either.”
I take a moment to decide whether or not to let that one go, but I can’t help but crack a smile. “It’s been a day,” I say, shaking my head. It’s not worth being a bitch to the only person in months who’s helped me in any way at all. Maybe I should take this as a sign that it’s time to get over myself.
“Well, now it’s night. Why not give yourself a fresh start?”
“Ha. Not really in the cards for me. I’m Catherine by the way,” I say. I make eye contact with him. For a moment, I don’t notice the color of his eyes, just the intensity of his stare. “So how do you know Felicity?”
We get in the elevator and ride up to the party. Blake checks me out and says, “Honestly, I have no idea who that is. So where are we going anyway?”
“You’re telling me that I get turned away from my oldest friend’s party and that you just waltz right in without even knowing her?”
He grins. “I guess you’re the one who should know who I am.” The elevator doors open and Blake steps off. “Join me for a drink, and maybe you’ll find out.”
“Are you really crashing this party?” I ask.
“No. We are crashing this party. Now come on, I want to see why you were so desperate to get up here.”
He leads me into Felicity’s place. It’s enormous and beautiful, and it’s been redecorated since the last time I was here. She’s repainted the room, and the double height ceiling now has faux beams running across it for some reason. Felicity wants to be an interior designer. Before that, she wanted to design dresses. Then she learned she would have to learn how to sew. Apparently it’s easier just to buy stuff with her father’s money. For some reason, she has an electric pink couch off to one side of the room. Money never could buy taste.
Other than the furniture, almost everything else is exactly the same as it has always been. The same sea of faces: Manhattan’s waspy inbred elite. I try to remind myself that I want to be here, that I want to find Felicity and let her know that I don’t blame her or anyone else for abandoning me and that I’m going to be the bigger woman.
Blake grabs two glasses of champagne off of a passing tray and hands me one. “So this is a high-society party?”
Before he can say anything more, Felicity bounds into the room. She’s wearing a pink sequined dress and a ridiculous hat in case the dress didn’t scream loud enough that she was supposed to be the center of attention. A quick second look confirms that her dress matches her couch. I wonder if she bought the couch specifically for the party or if she’s trying eye-searing pink as some kind of signature color. I catch her eye, and she glares at me for a moment before marching back out of the room. So much for the theory that I was left off the list by mistake.
I decide to go after her, but Blake steps in my path. “Easy,” he says. “You’ll have plenty of time for that later. Let me buy you a drink first.”
“I’m fine,” I say. I know it’s not true, that my blood is boiling. “It’s just the way she looked at me.”
“Well, she’s not the only one,” Blake says.
“Talking about yourself?”
“No, the yacht club type over your left shoulder. Bowtie, pastel shirt.”
I sneak a glance. It’s my ex. As if this night couldn’t get any better. “Prentiss Windsor Wallace III. My ex.”
“My apologies,” Blake replies.
“No, I’m glad it ended.” In hindsight, I only dated him because it was expected of me, because every guy who didn’t have my father’s approval managed to break my heart. With Prentiss there had never been a possibility of a broken heart.
“I meant sorry that you dated him at all. By the way, he’s heading toward us.”
“Shit. I think I’ll have that drink,” I say.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure everything works out,” Blake says as he disappears into the crowd.
“Kitty Cat,” Prentiss says as he places a hand on my shoulder. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.” His face is flushed, and I can already tell he’s had a bit too much to drink. Why I
dated him, I’ll never know. He had a great jawline, impeccable hair, and a complete lack of self-awareness. I suppose at some point that made me like him. I started dating him after one of my brother’s friend’s broke my heart at the end of high school. And now he was here, gleeful to see me now that I was below him in social rank. He could barely contain his excitement. “Kitty Cat,” he repeated. He pats my shoulder again and forces a frown. “How you holding up?”
I grit my teeth as I smile. I’m not going to let him get to me. “I’m great, never been better.”
“I haven’t seen you around lately.”
“I’m reprioritizing,” I say, “simplifying my life.” I can lie with the best of them.
Prentiss gives me another smug look. “I’m proud of you, and showing up here tonight, it’s so… brave. Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.” Prentiss is already a little drunk, and he sways slightly as he looks at me. He cocks his head and adds, “It’s strange seeing you without your clique. Kitty-Cat, without her claws.”
I consider offering to demonstrate just how sharp my claws can be.
“Well, I should be going,” I say.
He shakes his head and waves his arm high over his head, calling someone over.
“You should meet my fiancée. You really did me the biggest favor breaking things off when you did.”
He’s probably right about that. I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut when his fiancée shows up. God she’s pretty. She introduces herself, Amber or Aubrey or something like that, and she starts talking about how she and Prentiss met in Saint Barts.
A jolt of cold against my arm sends a shiver up my spine and brings me back to attention.
“Your drink,” Blake says. He slips the drink into my hand.
“Oh this must be your boyfriend,” the fiancée says, trying to keep the conversation going.
“Oh, we’re not—” I start to say.
“Labels,” Blake says with a shrug. “Who has time for them, right? But hey,” he says, holding his glass up, “a toast: to friends, old and new. Prentiss, right?” He turns to the fiancée, “I’m Blake. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I can’t help but notice the way Prentiss turns green with jealousy as Blake takes her hand.”
“Audrey,” she says. Her eyes linger on his long enough for Prentiss to become noticeably jealous. I’d be thrilled about that if I didn’t feel a tinge of jealousy myself. Prentiss tries to stare Blake off. He looks like a zebra trying to intimidate a lion. Audrey is oblivious to Prentiss. “You two make a very beautiful couple,” she says.
Blake wraps his arm around my shoulder. “You know. I was just saying the same thing myself.”
Well, he certainly doesn’t suffer from a lack of confidence.
“So, Blake, what do you do for a living?” Prentiss asks. This is a loaded question. Prentiss is a Wallace. Wallaces don’t do anything for a living. They live off their vast fortune and look down on anyone who has to work for a living.
Blake looks at me for a moment. His eyes are stone blue. “I look for potential.” I wonder if he’s talking about me.
“I didn’t know people got paid for potential,” Prentiss replies.
“They don’t,” Blake says. “At least I don’t. I make my money by identifying potential and turning it into reality. A lot of that has to do with dry stuff like financial instruments, securitized debt, derivatives, the parts of our financial system, but really, what I do is find possibility. And when I find it, I exploit it. How about you? Family business?”
“I’m in philanthropy,” Prentiss says. That’s a new one for him. Apparently that’s his term for being on permanent vacation.
“That’s nice,” Blake says. “Catherine and I were just about to say hi to a few friends, but it was lovely meeting you, Prentiss.” He turned to Audrey, “a pleasure to meet you as well.”
Prentiss shakes his head. “Catherine Carlisle. I guess we’ll see you around.”
Blake looks like someone just punched him in the gut. He gently tugs me away with him. “Hey, I didn’t know who you were when I started talking to you earlier. There’s something—”
I cut him off. “I don’t want to talk about it. For a moment there, I thought I you were someone I could be myself with.”
“You can.”
“Then let’s leave my family’s stuff out of this.”
“Fine,” Blake says. “You want to forget about all of this status stuff for one night?”
“More than anything.”
“Your ex still has a thing for you, by the way,” Blake tells me as if it were plain as day.
“Did you see his fiancée?” I say. “There’s no way.”
Blake laughs. “Have you seen you?”
I blush. “I just can’t believe he’s getting married. I was way out of his league.”
“You still are.”
“Not anymore. There’s an unspoken pecking order. He used to be below me. Now he’s above. Look, you seem wonderful, and thank you for helping with Prentiss, but you should really find that friend you were waiting for. I’m sure she’s been waiting.
Blake laughs. “He was a no show. Apparently I didn’t get his call about his daughter using his place to impress her friends.”
“You’re here to meet with Felicity’s father?”
“Business,” he says with a shrug. “Luckily for me, he didn’t show. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
I see Felicity working her way across the room again. This time she’s looking right at me. “I don’t know. What do I do?” I ask.
“About her, or about the ex?” Blake says.
“I don’t know.”
“Same thing either way: show them you don’t care.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” I ask. “They’re all judging me. I came here like an idiot, and now they’re judging me.”
“Like this.” He leans in and kisses me, wrapping his arms around my back and dipping me slightly as his lips press firmly against mine. His kiss is thrilling and warm, and for a second, I forget all about Prentiss and Felicity and everything that’s gone wrong with my life, and I just savor that feeling.
I pull away. “Why did you do that?” I ask. I’m still dizzy from that kiss.
“I just gave them something else to think about.” He wraps his hand around mine and takes a step towards the door. “Now let’s leave while we’re ahead.”
He’s right. I know he’s right. I grasp his hand like my life depends on it and follow him back out of the party. As soon as we’re in the hall, he spins me around and kisses me again.
“You know no one can see us out here,” I say. I steal a breath as he kisses me again.
“That’s kind of the point,” he says, “just you and me.”
I know what he’s getting at, and I like the idea. I’ve never been a one night stand kind of girl, but there’s something about Blake that leaves me wanting more. This isn’t love. I know that, and I still want it more than I can say. One night, I tell myself. What’s the worst that could happen?
CHAPTER 2
CATHERINE
Blake’s place is in SoHo or Tribeca. I can’t tell, and I don’t care. My head is spinning with excitement as he helps me out of his car. I need this, I tell myself. One night with a brazen guy like Blake to clear my head and have some fun. Everyone else has their way. Why shouldn’t I. I tell myself that this isn’t about the party, isn’t about proving anything, isn’t about the way his hand feels against my back as he leads me into his building. But as much as I try to tell myself it’s about me and not him, I know that isn’t true. I don’t just want sex. I want him. I want the blue-eyed man who looked at me with complete desire and decided he wouldn’t stop until he had everything. He wants me, and I want him.
As soon as we’re in the elevator, we let loose. He slips the straps of my dress off my shoulders and kisses my neck. “I need you now,” he says between kisses. He presses his lips against my shoulder and reaches around my back to unzip me. He�
��s not wasting any time.
I don’t know if it’s the elevator or the way his hands feel on my body, but I feel delightfully off balance. “What if someone sees?” Though the threat of being seen is kind of a turn on, I don’t want anything to stop Blake from having his way with me and me from having my way with him.
“Private elevator.” He presses me against the wall and kisses me hard and fast as he pushes his hips against me. I can feel the heat of his erection. I can feel his growing excitement. I reach down and feel the outline of his length. He takes this as an invitation to slide his hand between my legs. He spreads my thighs apart and rubs his fingers against me. Only the thin fabric of my thong separates his fingers from my clit.
Then, with a quick motion, he leaves nothing between his skin and mine. I moan softly as he rubs against me. I’m already wet, and every little motion of his fingertips against my sex makes me more excited. He pushes a finger inside me and rubs my inner wall. I tense against the wall as pleasure floods through my body. “I need you now,” I tell him. I want to feel his cock inside me.
“Then we shouldn’t waste another moment.” With his free hand, Blake grabs my ass and pulls me hard against himself. The elevator dings, and the doors open behind him. Beyond the half-dark of his place, the city lights throb below us, their glow casts shadows across the modern layout of an expansive living room, “We’re here,” Blake says. He kneels down on one knee and slips my dress down over my hips and kisses my thigh, running his hand up and down the back of my legs. With the other, he caresses my stomach and reaches back between my legs. Then he slips my panties down around my knees and looks up at me. “Every inch of you is beautiful.”
Before I can move he kisses me between my legs. Softly licking my clit and sliding his tongue against the warm folds of my sex. He slides a finger back inside me and strokes. I feel the surge of orgasm branching up through my core. I grab Blake’s shoulder to steady myself as the waves of delight crash through me. I expect him to rise back up and decide it’s his turn for fun, but he keeps going, driving my right back into a spiral of delight. Finally, when he has me back on the brink, I tell him I cry out, “Fuck me, now.”
