Fashion Jungle Read online

  She smiled as he kissed her again, softer, stealing her breath with each coax. “Not…” She grinned against his lips. “Fair.”

  “I never said I played fair.” He tilted her chin toward him. “Please?”

  “Only because you fed me.”

  “Totally understandable.” He ran his thumb along her lip and shook his head. “We won’t talk about it, but it needs to be said. He’s an idiot for letting you go.”

  Her breath hitched. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night” he said without even hearing her answer.

  “What makes you think I’m saying yes?”

  “Your pulse jumped the minute I asked.” He ran his hands down her neck and then pulled her close. “I’m a doctor. I notice these things… You want to say yes, don’t let your past hold you back. Not with me.”

  How did he even know?

  She found herself nodding her head.

  And then he was leaning in again, and she was reminded why it was both a good and bad idea to be with him.

  Men like him were dangerous.

  He would ask for everything.

  And, one day, she would have to tell him the truth and hope he accepted her.

  Or live with another broken heart.

  Only she wasn’t sure how many pieces she had left after Ronan, after their situation. And she refused to be that woman again, the one who would sacrifice every moral left standing, in order to keep someone who wasn’t even faithful to her.

  The sad part came in the fear that she didn’t have anything left to give and that, one day, everyone would find out what a complete fraud she was.

  “Let’s get you home.” Oliver threw away their trash as they walked hand in hand down the street.

  Fraud.

  Fraud.

  Fraud.

  The city seemed to scream the word at her, and Brittany was reminded yet again why she only let certain people in.

  And why she had decided to live a lie.

  Because the truth cut too deep.

  And she still hadn’t found a way to stop the bleeding.

  New York Fashion Week Countdown - 12 Days

  “How’d it go?” Zoe asked as she breezed into her office, cell phone practically glued to her ear.

  “It was… really good.” Brittany sounded as if she were smiling so big, her penthouse apartment might explode around her.

  “Oh, was it? Super good? He still there? Be honest. Tell me you got naked. It would make my entire day.” Zoe grinned as her best friend made a choking noise. “Tell me you went all Song of Solomon on him, please, God, please.”

  “I regret the day I showed you that chapter,” Brittany muttered. “Second, who sleeps with someone on the first date? You know me, Zoe.”

  Zoe laughed and then released a long sigh. “You can’t see me, but I’m raising my hand—and Everlee’s, even though she’s not here and hasn’t answered any of my texts. I know, I know, Miss I refuse to sleep with anyone unless they go all Beyonce and put a ring on it and even then, I still worry. Speaking of Everlee, have you heard from her?”

  Brittany sighed. “No, actually, I haven’t, not since happy hour. I’ll call her during my lunch… And he’s not still in my apartment, but your concern and enthusiasm are both alarming and noted.”

  “At least, don’t freeze him out. Maybe if you just explain that you have morals, unlike the rest of New York, he won’t have bedroom expectations.” Zoe sighed. “You know how men get.”

  “Yeah.” Why did Brittany sound so sad? “Hey, I gotta go, I have an appointment with Grace in an hour.”

  “Winter is coming,” Zoe teased. They all said that behind Grace’s back, but it was out of love. The woman was harsh, but she was the best of the best. She earned her title as the Ice Queen and wore it like a badge of honor. Zoe liked women who didn’t care about pleasing men.

  Who runs the world? Girls.

  That was Grace’s motto, one that Zoe wanted to adopt and live by.

  “I’ll tell her you said hi.” Brittany laughed. “We still on for dinner later?”

  “Yup.” Zoe blew a kiss into the cell. “See ya.”

  “Bye!”

  She dropped her phone onto her messy desk and hit the trackpad on her MacBook.

  “Well, that was an interesting conversation,” came a dark voice from the far corner. Zoe nearly fell out of her chair as Dane made his way to one of the seats in front of her desk and sat his massive, beautiful body down. “The way I remember it, you made me wait, what was it? Two years before I got to see you naked?”

  “You saw me naked plenty.” And so would have everyone else, had he not saved her, protected her from that tape. Zoe narrowed her eyes. “Is there a reason you’re creepily eavesdropping on my conversations and lurking in the corner?”

  His grin was too sexy. It wasn’t helpful that he was in a suit that made him look like an editorial piece on mob bosses. Ha, how close to the truth would that be? “I wasn’t lurking.”

  “You were quietly watching from the darkened corner of the room. If that’s not lurking…” She crossed her arms.

  “I want to take you to lunch.”

  “It’s eleven.”

  “You skipped breakfast.”

  Son of a—did he have some of his men on her? “I had a granola bar.”

  “Don’t lie to me, I hate liars.”

  Ha, most of them were probably at the bottom of the Hudson. Point proven. “Let me just grab my purse.”

  “You don’t need it, not with me.”

  And there it was. Just another reason Zoe couldn’t be with Dane; why she put as much distance as she could between them.

  Had he saved her? Yes.

  At one point, had she loved him? Yes.

  But when you loved Dane, you loved the good and the bad. You loved the man and the monster. And Zoe had seen the monster too many times to ever love it. To ever allow the man to overshadow the darkness that truly did lurk beneath that black soul of his.

  He’d saved her because he was selfish. Because he saw, he fell, he wanted.

  “Fine.” She pressed her lips together in a firm line and stood. He waited. He’d always been clear about how they were to leave a room and enter. He wanted to be close enough to protect her, as if some psycho supermodel killer existed.

  But Dane, powerful as he was, couldn’t protect her from himself. And that had always been the problem. It wasn’t the physical.

  It was the emotional.

  He hurt her, no matter how hard he tried not to.

  And she hurt him right back.

  She grabbed her Burberry scarf and draped it around her neck, it looked perfect with her black jumper—another of the pieces going into the show in less than two weeks. Nerves hit her as they walked down the small hall leading from her office and out the door while her receptionist, Chelsey, gave her a big smile and a wave.

  Dane could charm the pants off a nun.

  So, it was no surprise that he had the woman eating out of the palm of his hand. He probably brought her coffee and a donut while asking if he could make copies of their financial records.

  A black Escalade idled in front of the building.

  Of course.

  She knew the drill. Zoe got in; Dane slid in next to her. And the driver took them wherever Dane had already planned, in his masterful way.

  They didn’t talk business.

  That wasn’t his way.

  Not in the car.

  Not when the driver could hear.

  Not when they were about to share a meal.

  Meals were kept intimate unless otherwise planned to be about business, and since he hadn’t specified, Zoe stayed quiet, enjoyed the feeling of the leather against her skin, and tried to ignore the fact that Dane’s hand was on her thigh like he wanted to keep her pinned in place.

  Or maybe just keep her period.

  The car stopped in front of an older building a few miles from her office in Midtown. It looked like an ap
artment building, but Zoe couldn’t be sure. There was a small grocery store near the cement stairs that had seen better days, and there seemed to be a call button near the door.

  “This is the restaurant?” she wondered out loud.

  “Sort of,” was Dane’s cryptic response.

  She knew better than to argue or pry for more, even though she was rolling her eyes and demanding answers on the inside. She knew that it would just encourage him to be more cryptic, prolonging the torture.

  She followed him up the stairs. He pressed the button that said P. “Here.”

  The door buzzed open.

  This wasn’t Dane.

  Dane was about luxury.

  Dane was about looking powerful, feeling more so.

  His image was almost as important as his need to control every living, breathing—and who was she kidding?—dead thing around them.

  If it were possible to control oxygen, gravity, the ocean—he’d do it.

  The white marble floor looked new and polished. Her Manolos clicked against it as they walked to the elevator.

  Dane pressed the up button.

  The elevator gave a shrill ding.

  And then they were alone.

  In a small space.

  Story of Zoe’s life.

  She tried to look bored.

  And probably failed as Dane wrapped a bulky arm around her body and pulled her tightly against him. It was abrupt; her heels stumbled as her thigh connected with his.

  He’d always been that way, possessive to the core. And there were never any apologies for it. He wanted her by his side, so he literally jerked her to it. It was his way of protecting her, but she always felt like it was more ownership than protection.

  The elevator was either taking forever, or she was having a minor meltdown at the way his fingers danced along her waist, at the smell of cigars mixed with the faint scent of peppermint.

  She hated that her body instantly responded to the amalgamation.

  It was almost as bad as the memories of his mouth on her, his hands everywhere, his declarations of love.

  She shook her head. Not this time. He wanted a second chance—at what? Not being a horrible human being? It was bred into him. He couldn’t help it.

  The elevator doors finally opened.

  She waited while Dane very gently walked forward with her still attached to his side. They walked into a small foyer with gorgeous white marble floors and high ceilings.

  The door was red.

  She frowned.

  He shoved the key in.

  Every angry word she’d ever tossed in his direction, every sneer, every tear she’d cried on his behalf became paralyzed in front of her face.

  The smell of Chinese takeout filled the huge loft.

  It had a gourmet kitchen with Wolf appliances. The range was red and jutted out from the rest of the marble in a way that made it look like art.

  Fur rugs covered the dark, Brazilian teak floor.

  And in the living room, Haute House couches in a midnight black framed a solid wood coffee table.

  The same one she had passed on a week ago.

  The one she’d told herself she could afford but had refused to purchase after putting so much money into marketing her first show and finding celebrities willing to sit in the front row.

  All of her money was tied up.

  You had to spend money to make money.

  So, she’d bypassed the coffee table and grabbed a Starbucks instead, all the while wondering about the day she could stop worrying about investments and silent partners.

  And, most of all…

  Dane.

  “Say something.” His voice was gruff as he placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her body toward the opposite side of the room where a sleek fireplace with black and white rocks roared to life on the wall. In front of it was a reading nook, and next to that? A desk—a beautiful workstation right in front of another huge window.

  “It’s…” She shook her head as the weight of his hands pressed her down, almost rooting her feet to the floor. “It’s… beautiful.”

  “You should see the bedroom.”

  Alarm bells went off in her head as she forced herself not to panic.

  “Maybe we should eat first. Besides…” Please, God, let the smell of Chinese food be real. “I probably shouldn’t be snooping around some stranger’s apartment.”

  “It’s not on the market.”

  “Oh.” She frowned. “Then why are you showing it to me?” Dane had often taken her to different developments, condos, apartments, and the like to get her opinion on decorating. But this one was finished.

  And it had her table.

  She cursed under her breath.

  “Let’s eat…” Dane’s voice was full of humor. “You need to be back at work in a half-hour.”

  The nerve of the man.

  Knowing her schedule inside and out.

  Making purchases that showed her how easy it would be to say yes to someone she swore she’d say no to for the rest of her life.

  But they both shared the blame for that, didn’t they?

  For what they’d done.

  What they hid.

  But there was no other way, was there?

  Their mistakes tied them together like a blood bond that she couldn’t escape, not if she wanted the secrets to stay hidden.

  Buried.

  Literally.

  “Right.” She cleared her throat and walked into the kitchen. The breakfast bar didn’t have stools yet, so maybe whoever the penthouse belonged to was still decorating? She could stand and eat. Zoe grabbed the boxes and started opening. “How is it possible this is still hot?”

  “Had someone deliver it just before we came up.” He winked.

  She scowled. “You can wink all you want, smile, show me your six-pack, it’s not going to work, Dane.”

  “Aw, you remember my six-pack. Am I blushing?”

  “You’d have to have a soul to feel shame,” she fired back without hesitation.

  His gaze narrowed. “You have sauce, right here.” He reached for her face.

  She smacked his hand away, grabbed a napkin, and wiped the corner of her mouth. “You can’t just touch people because you want to.”

  “I don’t touch people—I touch you,” was his answer, as her stomach dropped to her knees. His smolder should be illegal.

  Zoe wondered what it would take to get the cops to arrest him every time he tried to use it on her, there should at least be room for a citation or something. Anything.

  “So.” She looked away. She had to. “Whose place are we crashing?” With vigor, she put a bite of fried pork into her mouth and chewed.

  His blue eyes flashed. “Yours.”

  The fried pork lodged itself in her throat, while rice tried to come out of her nose. Coughing and sputtering, she flailed her arms, and Dane hit her on her back so hard he probably dislodged a rib. “You okay?”

  “Wait.” Voice hoarse, she took a drink of water and then shook her head against the tears forming from all the choking. “What do you mean it’s mine? Is that what my life has come to? Sleep-shopping? I’m not even apartment hunting!”

  “You pay over five grand a month for a one-bedroom that I could fit in this kitchen.” He leaned over the counter, his forearms flexed and stretched with muscle. “Think of it as an early wedding present.”

  And there it was.

  The other shoe.

  It had finally just manifested in front of her face and dropped like a rock to the expensive floor.

  “No.” She shook her head. “No. And you just asked me. You need to give a woman time!”

  “Time’s up.” He smiled like he knew he’d won. “Besides, things are about to get very… dangerous around here.”

  “Okay, that sounds like a bad movie line.” She rolled her eyes. “I have security at my place. I’m fine, and you can’t just go around buying people apartments!”

  “Lofts,” he corrected,
still smirking at her movie comment. “And I don’t have to remind you who we put behind bars, do I? Because it haunts me every day.”

  “Again, you need a heart for that sort of reaction, Dane, and I’m pretty sure you gave yours to the devil along with your soul in a two-for-one special!”

  He leaned in, lingering barely an inch from her face, his jaw tight, teeth clenched. “I’ve played your games. I’ve given you everything. Including time. I want you. I will have you.”

  “On a cold day in Hell.” Heart racing, she tried to suck in a breath that didn’t smell like him. After a few torturous seconds, Zoe found her voice, but it wasn’t as confident as before. He’d bought her a loft? Who did that?

  “Then…” He backed away and ran a hand through his pitch-black hair. “I hope, for your sake, you carry a taser.”

  Her head jerked up. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Dane’s eyes roamed over her face briefly before he whispered, “He’s out of prison.”

  “Who’s out of—?” She gasped, putting her hands to her mouth. “How?”

  “Seems he knows how to behave. But you know he won’t stop, not after what we did to his brother—”

  “Stop! People could hear you. They could!” Terror gripped Zoe like a vice around her neck as tears filled her eyes. “Do you really think he’ll come after me?”

  Dane snorted out an ugly curse. “The little creep was at your office last night. Didn’t break in, just stared up at the window like he was planning a nice reunion with his most hated ex-girlfriend.”

  Her knees buckled as she tried to process what Dane was actually saying.

  “I’m not capable of the type of love you deserve…” Dane wrapped his arms around her. “But I can offer you the type of protection people would kill to have.”

  “What’s that?” She looked up into his stormy blue eyes.

  “My name.”

  Make it go away! Just make it go away!” Zoe yelled as she ran into Dane’s arms. Eyes blazing, he gripped her shoulders. “What happened?”

  “A tape he made. I didn’t know! Marnie set it up and said it was legit, and then he was filming. After, his friend showed up, and then he said that I had to—” Zoe collapsed against Zane. “It’s going to ruin my entire career! They’re going to ruin me!”