Chapter One
Raven
I was a terrible daughter.
The thought ran through my mind as I stared out my floor to ceiling glass office windows to the glittering city beyond, disappointment with myself settling in my chest. Traffic was lessening as rush hour faded into a quiet evening. I glanced at the modern black wall clock that read nearly seven, which meant I was due at my parents house for dinner in two minutes. Sighing, I snatched my phone from the other side of my L-shaped desk.
The ringing reverberated through my body, leaving a trail of melancholy in its wake. On the third ring, my mother’s eager voice filled my office from the small speaker.
“Hey honey! I just pulled dinner from the oven. Are you almost here?”
I could see her standing with her hip leaned against the counter, the table set perfectly and waiting for a family to be seated around it. The house probably smelled wonderful from whatever she’d made since I would bet money she was the best cook in the city. My mouth watered and stomach growled as Ithought of Mom’s various casseroles and realized I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Lunch had been taken up by a meeting, and afterward I went back to work without thinking of food.
“Hey Mom. I got caught up at work. I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it. I’m really sorry.” Staring at the solid wall in front of my desk, I imagined Mom’s smile fading as I once again canceled. “I’m still dealing with trying to dig my new client out of the mess they got themselves in. Maybe we can get together next month? This is going to take a while to fix.”
Closing my eyes and propping my elbow on the glass, I brought my forehead to rest against my fingers. When Mom spoke again the excitement had drained away, replaced by her normal voice, feigning indifference.
“Oh honey, that's all right. Your dad and I will see you when you’re free. You go be great and keep working hard to get that business to the top.” Shuffling followed by aswishsounded on her end of the line, and I assumed Mom was shaking her head to tell Dad I wasn’t going to show. “We love you, honey. Bye bye.”
“Love you all too. Bye, Mom.”
The beep signaling the end of the call filled my ears, and I scrubbed my hands over my face. Gratitude mixed with a hint of sadness washed through me as I thought of my understanding parents. They loved me unconditionally, and were always supportive of me following my dreams; never counting on the added benefits of my success. When I couldn’t make dinner or wasn’t able to visit long when I did show up, they never complained.
Tucking my black tresses behind my ear, I looked back to the bright computer screens, the numbers and stock runs beginning to blur. Despite my tiredness and regret, I pushed through, completing additional tasks that would set me up for an easier Friday.
A few hours later I locked the door to my office suite and trudged to the elevators. Once in the concrete behemoth of a car garage attached to my high rise, I pressed my key fob, illuminating my sleek black Lexus parked a dozen feet from the door. The breeze rustled my long locks, and I breathed in the scent of tar that usually lingered in the structure. Adjusting the weight of my purse against my tense shoulder, I was glad I was one of the first in the garage every morning and always had a spot close to the entrance.
When I reached for the car door, chills raised along my skin at the sound of aclangin the stairwell on the other side of the garage. My senses went on alert as I turned a three sixty to survey every direction. People occasionally hung out in the garages downtown in my mid-size city, but I usually didn’t pay much attention. Tonight felt different; the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. I threw open the car door and hurled myself inside, jamming the locks. If there was someone with ill intentions lurking, little did they know I wasn’t the bitch to fuck with.
As soon as the thought crossed my mind, my stomach churned. Doubt crept in the corners of my consciousness, and flashes of a darkened back alley flickered behind my eyes while phantom hands encircled my wrists. My body screamed at the memory of fingers tearing at my clothes and the bruises that marred my skin.
Gripping the steering wheel, I shook the images from my head and stilled my breathing, my usual composure sliding back into place. It had been over a decade. He wasn’t here. Still, I plucked the pepper spray from the outer pocket of my purse and whipped the knife from its sheath strapped to my ankle. Gripping the hard leather handle in my palm, I brushed my thumb along the edge of the blade. It was still deadly despite not being sharpened recently. I hadn’t everused the thing, but carried it with me at all times, nonetheless.
With my weapons within close reach, I pushed the ignition button and my dash came to life. I buckled my seatbelt and threw the car in reverse. As I sped onto the street, I cursed as my phone’s Bluetooth connected, and Zander Kane’s voice filled the car. I scrambled to hit the pause button, not in the headspace for an audiobook after the long day I’d had. That morning, I’d been listening to a new release on my way to work, and I must have been really into it because that shit was insanely loud. People at stop lights had probably heard the lascivious narration even though the windows had been up, but I didn’t care. I was unapologetic about the books I enjoyed.
Smirking, I drove to my apartment in silence, my body sagging in the seat. The days had run together recently, and the late nights and early mornings were taking a toll. Canceling on Mom and Dad had been the icing on the dejected cake. The hint of sadness in Mom’s voice when she talked about missing me forced the weight of my responsibilities to grow heavier. They lived in a suburban town half an hour away from the city, so it wasn’t far to travel, but I simply didn’t have time.
None of us could complain, though. Not many thirty-two-year-old women owned a rising financial firm, making more money than most ever dreamed of.
The memory of the first time I saw the letters on my door flashed through my mind. Lovelace Financial was proudly displayed on the glass and although it was an uncertain venture at first, the last few years had been a whirlwind. The company had grown to the point where I was able to supplement my parents’ income and live the life I had always wanted when I was a kid, not having to worry about food or if the billswould be paid. The only regret was not having more time for the people who mattered most. The only family I had.
My apartment was stale like usual as I hung my keys on their hook by the door. Strolling through the living room, I headed straight to the balcony. I lived a few miles outside of downtown, in a top-floor apartment that had a magnificent view of the city. It wasn’t large, but the city was big enough to be successful in. The cost of living was much cheaper than in New York or Chicago, so money went farther, a necessity when supporting two households.
I gazed out at quiet streets and lights dotting the horizon. The sounds of cars and the occasional bark of a dog floated on the breeze. The Thirsty Thursday crowd downtown was out in full force and I was glad I was away from the bars and nightlife. That was something I’d enjoyed for a brief time in college over a decade ago. Focusing on my career and devoting everything I had to the business was enough as I got older.
A career was worse than a spouse with the way it took up every waking moment, and the complications of marriage weren’t something I was willing to make time for.
Closing my eyes, I breathed in the late August air. The nights were turning from balmy to bearable, and I relished spending more free time outside when I had it. Not that I had it often. Stepping back through the glass French doors, I made my way to the primary bedroom, my black heels clicking on the tile as I went.
As I moved through the en suite and into the panoramic closet, I shrugged out of the black pinstripe skirt suit, my gaze falling to the monochrome clothing neatly lining the walls. I had never grown out of my goth girl phase from high school and it showed in my style choices. In 2010, everyone wore all black with heavy eye makeup and band tees. I toned back the eyeliner and swapped the T-shirts for suits, but I still kept thegeneral vibe. Most outfits were some variation of black and gray with the occasional white accent.
Once clean and between my sheets in my king bed, I slid my headphones over my ears and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. I pulled up the audiobook from earlier, and Zander’s sexy voice filled my ears, transporting me into the spicy scene. It was perfect to finish before bed.
Zander usually did romance, which is how I found him since it was my favorite genre. This story happened to be about a woman who was taken by the mafia and fell in love with the member who worked in secret to free her. Written by one of my favorite authors, the sex scenes were full of angst and perfect for Zander’s voice.
“You’re mine,” Zander said, chills dancing along my skin. “I had no part in your capture, but I’m not sorry they took you. It brought you into my life, and I would let them do it again.”
Before I knew it, his velvet voice carried me away to sleep.
