THERE WERE WORSE THINGS THAN BEING STRANDED IN THE MIDDLE OF nowhere during a rainstorm. For example, I could be running from a rabid bear intent on mauling me into the next century. Or I could be tied to a chair in a dark basement and forced to listen to Aqua’s “Barbie Girl” on repeat until I’d rather gnaw off my arm than hear the song’s eponymous phrase again. But just because things could be worse didn’t mean they didn’t suck. Stop. Think positive thoughts. “An Uber will show up…now.” I stared at my phone, biting back my frustration when the app reassured me it was “finding my ride”, the way it had been for the past half hour. Normally, I’d be less stressed about the situation because hey, at least I had a working phone and a bus shelter to keep me mostly dry from the pounding rain. But Josh’s farewell party was starting in an hour, I had yet to pick up his surprise cake from the bakery, and it would be dark soon. I may be a glass half full kinda gal, but I wasn’t an idiot. No one—especially not a college girl with zero fighting skills to speak of—wants to find herself alone in the middle of nowhere after dark. I should’ve taken those self-defense classes with Jules like she wanted. I mentally scrolled through my limited options. The bus that stopped at this location didn’t run on the weekends, and most of my friends didn’t own a car. Bridget had car service, but she was at an embassy event until seven. Uber wasn’t working, and I hadn’t seen a single car pass by since the rain started. Not that I would hitchhike, anyway—I’ve watched horror movies, thank you very much.I only had one option left—one I really didn’t want to take—but beggars couldn’t be choosers. I pulled up the contact in my phone, said a silent prayer, and pressed the call button. One ring. Two rings. Three. Come on, pick up. Or not. I wasn’t sure which would be worse—getting murdered or dealing with my brother. Of course, there was always the chance said brother would murder me himself for putting myself in such a situation, but I’d deal with that later. “What’s wrong?” I scrunched my nose at his greeting. “Hello to you too, brother dearest. What makes you think something is wrong?” Josh snorted. “Uh, you called me. You never call unless you’re in trouble.” True. We preferred texting, and we lived next door to each other—not my idea, by the way—so we rarely had to message at all. “I wouldn’t say I’m in trouble,” I hedged. “More like…stranded. I’m not near public transport, and I can’t find an Uber.” “Christ, Ava. Where are you?” I told him. “What the hell are you doing there? That’s an hour from campus!” “Don’t be dramatic. I had an engagement shoot, and it’s a thirty-minute drive. Forty-five if there’s traffic.” Thunder boomed, shaking the branches of nearby trees. I winced and shrank farther back into the shelter, not that it did me much good. The rain slanted sideways, splattering me with water droplets so heavy and hard they stung when they hit my skin. A rustling noise came from Josh’s end, followed by a soft ****. I paused, sure I’d heard wrong, but nope, there it was again. Another ****. My eyes widened in horror. “Are you having sex right now?” I whispershouted, even though no one else was around. The sandwich I’d scarfed down before I left for my shoot threatened to make a reappearance. There was nothing—I repeat nothing—grosser than listening to a relative while they’re mid-coitus. Just the thought made me gag. “Technically, no.” Josh sounded unrepentant. The word “technically” did a lot of heavy lifting there. It didn’t take a genius to decipher Josh’s vague reply. He may not behaving intercourse, but something was going on, and I had zero desire to find out what that “something” was. “Josh Chen.” “Hey, you’re the one who called me.” He must’ve covered his phone with his hand, because his next words came through muffled. I heard a soft, feminine laugh followed by a squeal, and I wanted to bleach my ears, my eyes, my mind. “One of the guys took my car to buy more ice,” Josh said, his voice clear again. “But don’t worry, I got you. Drop a pin on your exact location and keep your phone close. Do you still have the pepper spray I bought for your birthday last year?” “Yes. Thanks for that, by the way.” I’d wanted a new camera bag, but Josh had bought me an eight-pack of pepper spray instead. I’d never used any of it, which meant all eight bottles—minus the one tucked in my purse—were sitting snug in the back of my closet. My sarcasm went over my brother’s head. For a straight-A pre-med student, he could be quite dense. “You’re welcome. Stay put, and he’ll be there soon. We’ll talk about your complete lack of self-preservation later.” “I’m self-preserved,” I protested. Was that the right word? “It’s not my fault there are no Ub—wait, what do you mean ‘he’? Josh!” Too late. He’d already hung up. Figured the one time I wanted him to elaborate, he’d ditch me for one of his bed buddies. I was surprised he hadn’t freaked out more, considering Josh put the “over” in overprotective. Ever since “The Incident,” he’d taken it upon himself to look after me like he was my brother and bodyguard rolled into one. I didn’t blame him—our childhood had been a hundred shades of messed up, or so I’d been told—and I loved him to pieces, but his constant worrying could be a bit much. I sat sideways on the bench and hugged my bag to my side, letting the cracked leather warm my skin while I waited for the mysterious “he” to show up. It could be anyone. Josh had no shortage of friends. He’d always been Mr. Popular—basketball player, student body president, and homecoming king in high school; Sigma fraternity brother and Big Man on Campus in college. I was his opposite. Not unpopular per se, but I shied away from the limelight and would rather have a small group of close friends than a large group of friendly acquaintances. Where Josh was the life of the party, I sat in the corner and daydreamed about all the places I would love to visit butwould probably never get to. Not if my phobia had anything to do with it. My damn phobia. I knew it was all mental, but it felt physical. The nausea, the racing heart, the paralyzing fear that turned my limbs into useless, frozen things… On the bright side, at least I wasn’t afraid of rain. Oceans and lakes and pools, I could avoid, but rain…yeah, that would’ve been bad. I wasn’t sure how long I huddled in the tiny bus shelter, cursing my lack of foresight when I turned down the Graysons’ offer to drive me back to town after our shoot. I hadn’t wanted to inconvenience them and thought I could call an Uber and be back at Thayer’s campus in half an hour, but the skies opened up right after the couple left and, well, here I was. It was getting dark. Muted grays mingled with the cool blues of twilight, and part of me worried the mysterious “he” wouldn’t show up, but Josh had never let me down. If one of his friends failed to pick me up like he’d asked, they wouldn’t have working legs tomorrow. Josh was a med student, but he had zero compunction about using violence when the situation called for it— especially when the situation involved me. The bright beam of headlights slashed through the rain. I squinted, my heart tripping in both anticipation and wariness as I weighed the odds of whether the car belonged to my ride or a potential psycho. This part of Maryland was pretty safe, but you never knew. When my eyes adjusted to the light, I slumped with relief, only to stiffen again two seconds later. Good news? I recognized the sleek, black Aston Martin pulling up toward me. It belonged to one of Josh’s friends, which meant I wouldn’t end up a local news item tonight. Bad news? The person driving said Aston Martin was the last person I wanted—or expected—to pick me up. He wasn’t an I’ll do my buddy a favor and rescue his stranded little sister kinda guy. He was a look at me wrong and I’ll destroy you and everyone you care about kinda guy, and he’d do it looking so calm and gorgeous you wouldn’t notice your world burning down around you until you were already a heap of ashes at his Tom Ford-clad feet. I swiped the tip of my tongue over my dry lips as the car stopped in front of me and the passenger window rolled down. “Get in.” He didn’t raise his voice—he never raised his voice—but I still heard him loud and clear over the rain.Alex Volkov was a force of nature unto himself, and I imagined even the weather bowed to him. “I hope you’re not waiting for me to open the door for you,” he said when I didn’t move. He sounded as happy as I was about the situation. What a gentleman. I pressed my lips together and bit back a sarcastic reply as I roused myself from the bench and ducked into the car. It smelled cool and expensive, like spicy cologne and fine Italian leather. I didn’t have a towel or anything to place on the seat beneath me, so all I could do was pray I didn’t damage the expensive interior. “Thanks for picking me up. I appreciate it,” I said in an attempt to break the icy silence. I failed. Miserably. Alex didn’t respond or even look at me as he navigated the twists and curves of the slick roads leading back to campus. He drove the same way he walked, talked, and breathed—steady and controlled, with an undercurrent of danger warning those foolish enough to contemplate crossing him that doing so would be their death sentence. He was the exact opposite of Josh, and I still marveled at the fact that they were best friends. Personally, I thought Alex was an asshole. I was sure he had his reasons, some kind of psychological trauma which shaped him into the unfeeling robot he was today. Based on the snippets I’d gleaned from Josh, Alex’s childhood had been even worse than ours, though I’d never managed to pull the details out of my brother. All I knew was, Alex’s parents had died when he was young and left him a pile of money he’d quadrupled the value of when he came into his inheritance at age eighteen. Not that he’d needed it because he’d invented a new financial modeling software in high school that made him a multimillionaire before he could vote. With an IQ of 160, Alex Volkov was a genius, or close to it. He was the only person in Thayer’s history to complete its five-year joint undergrad/MBA program in three years, and at age twenty-six, he was the COO of one of the most successful real estate development companies in the country. He was a legend, and he knew it. Meanwhile, I thought I was doing well if I remembered to eat while juggling my classes, extracurriculars, and two jobs—front desk duty at the McCann Gallery, and my side hustle as a photographer for anyone who would hire me. Graduations, engagements, dogs’ birthday parties, I did themall. “Are you going to Josh’s party?” I tried again to make small talk. The silence was killing me. Alex and Josh had been best friends since they roomed together at Thayer eight years ago, and Alex had joined my family for Thanksgiving and assorted holidays every year since, but I still didn’t know him. Alex and I didn’t talk unless it had to do with Josh or passing the potatoes at dinner or something. “Yes.” Okay, then. Guess small talk was out. My mind wandered toward the million things I had to do that weekend. Edit the photos from the Graysons’ shoot and, work on my application for the World Youth Photography fellowship, help Josh finish packing after— Crap! I’d forgotten all about Josh’s cake. I’d ordered it two weeks ago because that was the max lead time for something from Crumble & Bake. It was Josh’s favorite dessert, a three-layer dark chocolate frosted with fudge and filled with chocolate pudding. He only indulged on his birthday, but since he was leaving the country for a year, I figured he could break his once-a-year rule. “So…” I pasted the biggest, brightest smile on my face. “Don’t kill me, but we need to make a detour to Crumble & Bake.” “No. We’re already late.” Alex stopped at a red light. We’d made it back to civilization, and I spotted the blurred outlines of a Starbucks and a Panera through the rain-splattered glass. My smile didn’t budge. “It’s a small detour. It’ll take fifteen minutes, max. I just need to run in and pick up Josh’s cake. You know, the Death by Chocolate he likes so much? He’ll be in Central America for a year, they don’t have C&B down there, and he leaves in two days so—” “Stop.” Alex’s fingers curled around the steering wheel, and my crazy, hormonal mind latched onto how beautiful they were. That might sound crazy because who has beautiful fingers? But he did. Physically, everything about him was beautiful. The jade-green eyes that glared out from beneath dark brows like chips hewn from a glacier; the sharp jawline and elegant, sculpted cheekbones; the lean frame and thick, light brown hair that somehow looked both tousled and perfectly coiffed. He resembled a statue in an Italian museum come to life. The insane urge to ruffle his hair like I would a kid’s gripped me, just sohe’d stop looking so perfect—which was quite irritating to the rest of us mere mortals—but I didn’t have a death wish, so I kept my hands planted in my lap. “If I take you to Crumble & Bake, will you stop talking?” No doubt he regretted picking me up. My smile grew. “If you want.” His lips thinned. “Fine.” Yes! Ava Chen: One. Alex Volkov: Zero. When we arrived at the bakery, I unbuckled my seatbelt and was halfway out the door when Alex grabbed my arm and pulled me back into my seat. Contrary to what I’d expected, his touch wasn’t cold—it was scorching, and it burned through my skin and muscles until I felt its warmth in the pit of my stomach. I swallowed hard. Stupid hormones. “What? We’re already late, and they’re closing soon.” “You can’t go out like that.” The tiniest hint of disapproval etched into the corners of his mouth. “Like what?” I asked, confused. I wore jeans and a T-shirt, nothing scandalous. Alex inclined his head toward my chest. I glanced down and let out a horrified yelp. Because my shirt? White. Wet. Transparent. Not even a little transparent, like you could kind of see my bra outline if you looked hard enough. This was full-on see-through. Red lace bra, hard nipples—thanks, air-conditioning—the whole shebang. I crossed my arms over my chest, my face flaming the same color as my bra. “Was it like this the entire time?” “Yes.” “You could’ve told me.” “I did tell you. Just now.” Sometimes, I wanted to strangle him. I really did. And I wasn’t even a violent person. I was the same girl who didn’t eat gingerbread man cookies for years after watching Shrek because I felt like I was eating Gingy’s family members or, worse, Gingy himself, but something about Alex provoked my dark side. I exhaled a sharp breath and dropped my arms by instinct, forgettingabout my see-through shirt until Alex’s gaze flicked down to my chest again. The flaming cheeks returned, but I was sick of sitting here arguing with him. Crumble & Bake closed in ten minutes, and the clock was ticking. Maybe it was the man, the weather, or the hour and a half I’d spent stuck under a bus shelter, but my frustration spilled out before I could stop it. “Instead of being an asshole and staring at my breasts, can you lend me your jacket? Because I really want to get this cake and send my brother, your best friend, off in style before he leaves the country.” My words hung in the air while I clapped a hand over my mouth, horrified. Did I just utter the word “breasts” to Alex Volkov and accuse him of ogling me? And call him an asshole? Dear God, if you smite me with lightning right now, I won’t be mad. Promise. Alex’s eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. It ranked in the top five most emotional responses I’d pulled out of him in eight years, so that was something. “Trust me, I was not staring at your breasts,” he said, his voice frigid enough to transform the lingering drops of moisture on my skin into icicles. “You’re not my type, even if you weren’t Josh’s sister.” Ouch. I wasn’t interested in Alex either, but no girl enjoys being dismissed so easily by a member of the opposite sex. “Whatever. There’s no need to be a jerk about it,” I muttered. “Look, C&B closes in two minutes. Just let me borrow your jacket, and we can get out of here.” I’d pre-paid online, so all I needed was to grab the cake. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I’ll get it. You’re not leaving the car dressed like that, even wearing my jacket.” Alex yanked an umbrella out from beneath his seat and exited the car in one fluid motion. He moved like a panther, all coiled grace and laser intensity. If he wanted, he could make a killing as a runway model, though I doubted he’d ever do anything so “gauche.” He returned less than five minutes later with Crumble & Bake’s signature pink-and-mint-green cake box tucked beneath one arm. He dumped it in my lap, snapped his umbrella closed, and reversed out of the parking spot without so much as blinking. “Do you ever smile?” I asked, peeking inside the box to make sure they hadn’t messed up the order. Nope. One Death by Chocolate, coming right up.It might help with your condition.” “What condition?” Alex sounded bored. “Stickuptheassitis.” I’d already called the man an asshole, so what was one more insult? I might’ve imagined it, but I thought I saw his mouth twitch before he responded with a bland, “No. The condition is chronic.” My hands froze while my jaw unhinged. “D-did you make a joke?” “Explain why you were out there in the first place.” Alex evaded my question and changed subjects so quick I had whiplash. He made a joke. I wouldn’t have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes. “I had a photoshoot with clients. There’s a nice lake in—” “Spare me the details. I don’t care.” A low growl slipped from my throat. “Why are you here? Didn’t figure you for the chauffeur type.” “I was in the area, and you’re Josh’s little sister. If you died, he’d be a bore to hang out with.” Alex pulled up in front of my house. Next door, AKA at Josh’s house, the lights blazed, and I could see people dancing and laughing through the windows. “Josh has the worst taste in friends,” I bit out. “I don’t know what he sees in you. I hope that stick in your *** punctures a vital organ.” Then, because I’d been raised with manners, I added, “Thank you for the ride.” I huffed out of the car. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and I smelled damp earth and the hydrangeas clustered in a pot by the front door. I’d shower, change, then catch the last half of Josh’s party. Hopefully, he wouldn’t give me shit for getting stranded or being late because I wasn’t in the mood. I never stay angry for long, but right then, my blood simmered and I wanted to punch Alex Volkov in the face. He was so cold and arrogant and…and…him. It was infuriating. At least I didn’t have to deal with him often. Josh usually hung out with him in the city, and Alex didn’t visit Thayer even though he was an alumnus. Thank God. If I had to see Alex more than a few times a year, I’d go crazy.

“WE SHOULD TAKE THIS SOMEWHERE MORE…PRIVATE.” THE BLONDE TRAILED her fingers down my arm, her hazel eyes bright with invitation as she swiped her tongue over her bottom lip. “Or not. Whatever you’re into.” My lips curved—not enough to classify as a smile, but enough to broadcast my thoughts. You can’t handle what I’m into. Despite her short, tight dress and suggestive words, she looked like the type who expected sweet nothings and lovemaking in bed. I didn’t do sweet nothings or lovemaking. I fucked a certain way, and only a specific type of woman was into that shit. Not hardcore BDSM, but not soft. No kissing, no face-to-face contact. Women agreed, then tried to change it up halfway through, after which I’d stop and show them the door. I have no tolerance for people who can’t keep to a simple agreement. That was why I stuck to a roster of familiar rotating names when I needed a release; both sides knew what to expect. The blonde was not making it onto that roster. “Not tonight.” I swirled the ice in my glass. “It’s my friend’s farewell party.” She followed my gaze toward Josh, who was basking in female attention of his own. He sprawled on the couch, one of the few remaining pieces of furniture after he’d packed the house up in anticipation of his year abroad, and grinned while three women fawned over him. He’d always been the charming one. While I put people on edge, he put them at ease, and his approach toward the fairer sex was the opposite of mine. The more, the merrier, according to Josh. He’d probably fucked half the D.C. metro area’s2 ALEX “WE SHOULD TAKE THIS SOMEWHERE MORE…PRIVATE.” THE BLONDE TRAILED her fingers down my arm, her hazel eyes bright with invitation as she swiped her tongue over her bottom lip. “Or not. Whatever you’re into.” My lips curved—not enough to classify as a smile, but enough to broadcast my thoughts. You can’t handle what I’m into. Despite her short, tight dress and suggestive words, she looked like the type who expected sweet nothings and lovemaking in bed. I didn’t do sweet nothings or lovemaking. I fucked a certain way, and only a specific type of woman was into that shit. Not hardcore BDSM, but not soft. No kissing, no face-to-face contact. Women agreed, then tried to change it up halfway through, after which I’d stop and show them the door. I have no tolerance for people who can’t keep to a simple agreement. That was why I stuck to a roster of familiar rotating names when I needed a release; both sides knew what to expect. The blonde was not making it onto that roster. “Not tonight.” I swirled the ice in my glass. “It’s my friend’s farewell party.” She followed my gaze toward Josh, who was basking in female attention of his own. He sprawled on the couch, one of the few remaining pieces of furniture after he’d packed the house up in anticipation of his year abroad, and grinned while three women fawned over him. He’d always been the charming one. While I put people on edge, he put them at ease, and his approach toward the fairer sex was the opposite of mine. The more, the merrier, according to Josh. He’d probably fucked half the D.C. metro area’smfemale population by now. “He can join too.” The blonde edged closer until her tits grazed my arm. “I don’t mind.” “Same.” Her friend, a petite brunette who had been quiet up till now but who’d eyed me like I was a juicy steak since I walked in the door, piped up. “Lyss and I do everything together.” The insinuation couldn’t have been clearer had she tattooed it across her exposed cleavage. Most guys would’ve jumped at the opportunity, but I was already bored with the conversation. Nothing turned me off more than desperation, which reeked stronger than their perfume. I didn’t bother answering. Instead, I scanned the room for something more interesting to hold my attention. If it were a party for anyone else but Josh, I would’ve skipped it. Between my job as COO of The Archer Group and my…side project, I had enough on my plate without attending pointless social gatherings. But Josh was my best friend—one of the few people whose company I could stand for more than an hour at a time—and he was leaving Monday for his gap year as a medical volunteer in Central America. So here I was, pretending like I actually wanted to be here. A silvery laugh pealed through the air, drawing my eyes toward the source. Ava. Of course. Josh’s little sister was so sweet and sunshiney all the time, I half-expected flowers to sprout on the ground wherever she walked and a coterie of singing woodland animals to trail behind her while she traipsed through meadows or whatever girls like her did. She stood in the corner with her friends, her face bright with animation as she laughed at something one of them said. I wondered if it was a real laugh or a fake laugh. Most laughs—hell, most people—were fake. They woke up every morning and put on a mask according to what they wanted that day and who they wanted the world to see. They smiled at people they hated, laughed at jokes that weren’t funny, and kissed the asses of those they secretly hoped to dethrone. I wasn’t judging. Like everyone else, I had my masks, and they ran layers deep. But unlike everyone else, I had as much interest in ***-kissing and small talk as I did in injecting bleach into my veins. Knowing Ava, her laugh was real.Poor girl. The world would eat her alive once she left the Thayer bubble. Not my problem. “Yo.” Josh appeared beside me, his hair tousled and his mouth stretched into a wide grin. His hangers-on were nowhere—wait, nope. There they were, dancing to Beyoncé like they were auditioning for a gig at The Strip Angel while a circle of guys watched them with their tongues lolling out. Men. My gender could use a little more standards and a little less thinking with their small head. “Thanks for showing up, man. Sorry I haven’t said hi till now. I’ve been…busy.” “I saw.” I arched an eyebrow at the lipstick print smeared on the corner of his mouth. “You have a little something on your face.” His grin widened. “Badge of honor. Speaking of which, I’m not interrupting, am I?” I glanced at the blonde and brunette, who’d moved on to making out with each other after failing to capture my interest. “No.” I shook my head. “A hundred bucks says you won’t survive the full year in Bumfuck, Nowhere. No women, no parties. You’ll be back before Halloween.” “Oh, ye of little faith. There’ll be women, and the party is wherever I am.” Josh swiped an unopened beer from a nearby cooler and cracked it open. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that. Me being gone,” he clarified. “Don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental on me. If you bought us friendship bracelets, I’m out.” “Fuck you, dude.” He laughed. “I wouldn’t buy your *** jewelry if you paid me. No, this is about Ava.” My glass paused an inch from my lips before I brought it home and the sweet burn of whiskey flowed down my throat. I hate beer. It tastes like piss, but since it was the drink du jour at Josh’s parties, I always brought a flask of Macallan whenever I visited. “What about her?” Josh and his sister were close, even if they bickered so much I wanted to duct tape their mouths sometimes. That was the nature of siblings— something I’d never quite gotten to experience. The whiskey turned sour in my mouth, and I set my glass down with a grimace. “I’m worried about her.” Josh rubbed a hand over his jaw, his expressiongrowing serious. “I know she’s a big girl and can take care of herself—unless she’s getting stranded in the middle of ******* nowhere; thanks for picking her up, by the way—but she’s never been on her own for so long and she can be a little too…trusting.” I had an inkling of where Josh was going with this, and I didn’t like it. At all. “She won’t be alone. She has her friends.” I inclined my head toward said friends. One of them, a curvy redhead in a gold skirt that made her look like a disco ball, chose that moment to hop onto the table and shake her *** to the rap song blasting through the speakers. Josh snorted. “Jules? She’s a liability, not help. Stella is as trusting as Ava, and Bridget…well, she has security, but she’s not around as much.” “You don’t need to worry. Thayer’s safe, and the crime rate here is close to zero.” “Yeah, but I’d feel better if I had someone I trusted looking after her, ya know?” ****. The train was heading straight off a cliff, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. “I wouldn’t ask—I know you’ve got a lot of shit going on—but she broke up with her ex a couple of weeks ago, and he’s been harassing her. I always knew he was a little shit, but she wouldn’t listen to me. Anyway, if you could keep an eye on her—just to make sure she doesn’t get killed or kidnapped or anything? I’d owe you big.” “You already owe me for all those times I saved your ***,” I said wryly. “You had fun while doing it. You’re too uptight sometimes.” Josh grinned. “So, is that a yes?” I glanced at Ava again. Took her in. She was twenty-two, four years younger than Josh and me, and she managed to appear both younger and older than her years. It was the way she carried herself, like she’d seen it all —the good, the bad, the downright ugly—and still believed in goodness. It was as stupid as it was admirable. She must’ve felt me staring because she paused her conversation and looked directly at me, her cheeks tinting pink at my unflinching gaze. She’d changed out of her jeans and T-shirt into a purple dress that swirled around her knees. Too bad. The dress was nice, but my mind flashed back to our car ride, when her damp shirt had clung to her like a second skin and her nipples had strained against the decadent red lace of her bra. I’d meant what I’d saidgrowing serious. “I know she’s a big girl and can take care of herself—unless she’s getting stranded in the middle of ******* nowhere; thanks for picking her up, by the way—but she’s never been on her own for so long and she can be a little too…trusting.” I had an inkling of where Josh was going with this, and I didn’t like it. At all. “She won’t be alone. She has her friends.” I inclined my head toward said friends. One of them, a curvy redhead in a gold skirt that made her look like a disco ball, chose that moment to hop onto the table and shake her *** to the rap song blasting through the speakers. Josh snorted. “Jules? She’s a liability, not help. Stella is as trusting as Ava, and Bridget…well, she has security, but she’s not around as much.” “You don’t need to worry. Thayer’s safe, and the crime rate here is close to zero.” “Yeah, but I’d feel better if I had someone I trusted looking after her, ya know?” ****. The train was heading straight off a cliff, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. “I wouldn’t ask—I know you’ve got a lot of shit going on—but she broke up with her ex a couple of weeks ago, and he’s been harassing her. I always knew he was a little shit, but she wouldn’t listen to me. Anyway, if you could keep an eye on her—just to make sure she doesn’t get killed or kidnapped or anything? I’d owe you big.” “You already owe me for all those times I saved your ***,” I said wryly. “You had fun while doing it. You’re too uptight sometimes.” Josh grinned. “So, is that a yes?” I glanced at Ava again. Took her in. She was twenty-two, four years younger than Josh and me, and she managed to appear both younger and older than her years. It was the way she carried herself, like she’d seen it all —the good, the bad, the downright ugly—and still believed in goodness. It was as stupid as it was admirable. She must’ve felt me staring because she paused her conversation and looked directly at me, her cheeks tinting pink at my unflinching gaze. She’d changed out of her jeans and T-shirt into a purple dress that swirled around her knees. Too bad. The dress was nice, but my mind flashed back to our car ride, when her damp shirt had clung to her like a second skin and her nipples had strained against the decadent red lace of her bra. I’d meant what I’d saidShe was under my protection now. A familiar, creeping sense of doom slithered around my neck and squeezed, tighter and tighter, until oxygen ran scarce and tiny lights danced before my eyes. Blood. Everywhere. On my hands. On my clothes. Splattered over the cream rug she’d loved so much—the one she’d brought back from Europe on her last trip abroad. An inane urge to scrub the rug and tear those bloody particles out of the soft wool fibers, one by one, gripped me, but I couldn’t move. All I could do was stand and stare at the grotesque scene in my living room—a room which, not half an hour earlier, had burst with warmth and laughter and love. Now it was cold and lifeless, like the three bodies at my feet. I blinked, and they disappeared—the lights, the memories, the noose around my neck. But they’d come back. They always did. “…You’re the best,” Josh was saying, his grin back now that I’d agreed to take on a role I had no business taking. I wasn’t a protector; I was a destroyer. I broke hearts, crushed business opponents, and didn’t care about the aftermath. If someone was stupid enough to fall for me or cross me—two things I warned people never, ever to do—they had it coming. “I’ll bring you back—fuck, I don’t know. Coffee. Chocolate. Pounds of whatever is good down there. And I owe you a big, fat favor in the future.” I forced a smile. Before I could respond, my phone rang, and I held up a finger. “Be right back. I have to take this.” “Take your time, man.” Josh was already distracted by the blonde and brunette who’d been all over me earlier and who found a much more willing audience in my best friend. By the time I stepped into the backyard and answered my call, they had their hands beneath his shirt. “Дядько,” I said, using the Ukrainian term for uncle. “Alex.” My uncle’s voice rasped over the line, scratchy from decades of cigarettes and the wear and tear of life. “I hope I’m not interrupting.” “No.” I glanced through the sliding glass door at the revelry inside. Josh had lived in the same rambling, two-story house off Thayer’s campus since undergrad. We’d roomed together until I graduated and moved to D.C. proper to be closer to my office—and to get away from the hordes of shrieking, drunken college students that paraded through campus and the surroundingneighborhoods every night. Everyone had turned out for Josh’s farewell party, and by everyone, I mean half the population of Hazelburg, Maryland, where Thayer was located. He was a town favorite, and I imagined people would miss his parties as much as they missed Josh himself. For someone who always claimed to be drowning in schoolwork, he found a lot of time for drinking and sex. Not that it hurt his academic performance. The bastard had a 4.0 GPA. “Did you take care of the problem?” my uncle asked. I heard a drawer open and close, followed by the faint click of a lighter. I’d urged him to quit smoking countless times, but he always brushed me off. Old habits die hard; old, bad habits even more so, and Ivan Volkov had reached the age where he couldn’t be bothered. “Not yet.” The moon hung low in the sky, casting ribbons of light that snaked through the otherwise-inky darkness of the backyard. Light and shadow. Two halves of the same coin. “I will. We’re close.” To justice. Vengeance. Salvation. For sixteen years, the pursuit of those three things had consumed me. They were my every waking thought, my every dream and nightmare. My reason for living. Even in situations when I’d been distracted by something else—the chess-play of corporate politics, the fleeting pleasure of burying myself into the tight, warm heat of a willing body—they’d lurked in my consciousness, driving me to greater heights of ambition and ruthlessness. Sixteen years might seem like a long time, but I specialize in the long game. It doesn’t matter how many years I have to wait as long as the end is worth it. And the end of the man who had destroyed my family? It would be glorious. “Good.” My uncle coughed, and my lips pinched. One of these days, I’d convince him to quit smoking. Life had driven any sentimentality out of me years ago, but Ivan was my only living relative. He took me in, raised me as his own, and stuck by me through every thorny twist of my path toward revenge, so I owed him that much, at least. “Your family will be at peace soon,” he said. Perhaps. Whether the same could be said of me…well, that was a question for another day. “There’s a board meeting next week,” I said, switching topics. “I’ll be intown for the day.” My uncle was the official CEO of Archer Group, the real estate development company he’d founded a decade ago with my guidance. I’d had a knack for business even as a teenager. Archer Group headquarters called Philadelphia home, but it had offices across the country. Since I was based in D.C., that was the company’s real power center, though board meetings still took place at HQ. I could’ve taken over as CEO years ago, per my uncle’s and my agreement when we started the company, but the COO position offered me more flexibility until I finished what I had to do. Besides, everyone knew I was the power behind the throne, anyway. Ivan was a decent CEO, but it was my strategies that had catapulted it into the Fortune 500 after a mere decade. My uncle and I talked business for a while longer before I hung up and rejoined the party. The gears in my head cranked into motion as I took stock of the evening’s developments—my promise to Josh, my uncle’s nudge about the minor hiccup in my revenge plan. Somehow, I had to reconcile the two over the next year. I mentally rearranged the pieces of my life into different patterns, playing each scenario out to the end, weighing the pros and cons, and examining them for potential cracks until I reached a decision. “Everything good?” Josh called out from the couch, where the blonde kissed his neck while the brunette’s hands became intimately acquainted with the region below his belt. “Yes.” To my irritation, my gaze strayed toward Ava again. She was in the kitchen, fussing over the half-eaten cake from Crumble & Bake. Her tanned skin glowed with a faint sheen of sweat from dancing, and her raven hair billowed around her face in a soft cloud. “About your earlier request…I have an idea.”

“I HOPE YOU APPRECIATE WHAT A GOOD FRIEND I AM.” JULES YAWNED AS WE tromped across our front yard toward Josh’s house. “For waking up at the butt crack of dawn to help your brother clean and pack when I don’t even like the dude.” I laughed and looped my arm through hers. “I’ll buy you a caramel mocha from The Morning Roast after. Promise.” “Yeah, yeah.” She paused. “Large, with extra crunch toppings?” “You know it.” “Fine.” Jules yawned again. “That makes it somewhat worth it.” Jules and Josh were not fans of each other. I’d always found that strange, considering they were so similar. They were both outgoing, charming, smart as hell, and total heartbreakers. Jules was a human version of Jessica Rabbit, all shiny red hair, creamy skin, and curves that made me look at my body with a sigh. Overall, I was happy with how I looked, but as a member of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee, I did wish for an extra cup size or two without having to resort to plastic surgery. Ironically, Jules sometimes complained about her double-Ds, saying they were hard on her back. There should be a Venmo for breasts that allows women to send and receive cup sizes with the press of a button. Like I said, I was happy with how I looked most of the time, but no one— not even supermodels or movie stars—was immune from insecurities. Besides her grievances with her breasts, Jules was the most confident person I’d ever met—aside from my brother, whose ego was so large it could house the entire East Coast of the United States with room left over for Texas. I suppose he had reason to be, considering he’d always been thegolden boy, and though it pained me to admit it because he was my brother, he wasn’t bad-looking either. Six-foot-two with thick black hair and razorsharp bone structure, which he never let anyone forget. I was convinced Josh would commission a sculpture of himself and display it on his front lawn if he could. Jules and Josh never divulged why they disliked each other so much, but I suspected it might be because they saw too much of themselves in each other. The front door was already open, so we didn’t bother knocking. To my surprise, the house was pretty clean. Josh had put most of his furniture into storage last week, and the only things left to pack were the couch (which someone would pick up later), a few stray kitchen items, and the weird abstract painting in the living room. “Josh?” My voice echoed in the large, empty space while Jules sat on the ground and pulled her knees to her chest with a grumpy expression. If you couldn’t tell, she wasn’t a morning person. “Where are you?” “Bedroom!” I heard a loud thump upstairs, followed by a muffled curse. A minute later, Josh came down holding a large cardboard box. “Shit I’m donating,” he explained, setting it on the kitchen counter. I wrinkled my nose. “Put a shirt on. Please.” “And deprive JR of her morning eye candy?” Josh smirked. “I’m not that cruel.” I wasn’t the only one who thought Jules looked like Jessica Rabbit; Josh always called her by the cartoon character’s initials, which pissed her off to no end. Then again, everything Josh did pissed her off. Jules lifted her head and scowled. “Please. I’ve seen better abs at the campus gym. Listen to Ava and put a shirt on before I lose last night’s dinner.” “Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Josh drawled, slapping a hand against his six-pack. “The only thing you’ll be losing is—” “Okay.” I slashed my arms through the air, cutting off the conversation before it went down a path that’d scar me for life. “Enough chitchat. Let’s get you packed up before you miss your flight.” Fortunately, Josh and Jules behaved for the next hour and a half while we packed up the remaining items and loaded them into the SUV he’d rented for the move. Soon, the only thing left to pack was the painting. “Tell me you’re donating this too.” I eyed the massive canvas. “I don’t'even know how it’ll fit in the car.” “Nah, leave it there. He likes it.” “Who?” As far as I knew, no one had taken over Josh’s lease yet. But it was still July, and I expected the place to go fast closer to the start of the semester. “You’ll see.” I didn’t like the smile on his face. At all. The low purr of a powerful engine filled the air. Josh’s smile broadened. “As a matter of fact, you’ll see right now.” Jules and I exchanged glances before we ran to the front door and pushed it open. A familiar Aston Martin idled in the driveway. The door opened, and Alex stepped out, looking more gorgeous than any human had the right to look in jeans, aviators, and a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He took off his sunglasses and assessed us with cool eyes, unfazed by the mini welcoming party on the front steps. Only I didn’t feel particularly welcoming. “But…but that’s Alex,” I stammered. “Looking miiiighty fine, might I add.” Jules nudged me in the ribs, and I scowled in response. Who cared if he was hot? He was a jerk. “Hey, dude.” Josh slapped hands with Alex. “Where’s your stuff?” “Moving company’s bringing it later.” Alex side-eyed Jules, who assessed him the way one would a shiny new toy. Besides Josh, Alex was the only guy who’d never fallen for her charms, which intrigued her more. She was a sucker for a good challenge, probably because most guys fell at her feet before she even opened her mouth. “Wait.” I put my hand up, my heart slamming a panicked rhythm against my ribcage. “Moving comp—you’re not moving here.” “Actually, he is.” Josh slung an arm over my shoulder, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Meet your new neighbor, little sis.” My eyes ping-ponged between him and Alex, who couldn’t look more bored by the conversation. “No.” There was only one reason Alex Volkov would leave his cushy D.C. penthouse and move back to Hazelburg, and I’d bet my new camera it had nothing to do with nostalgia for his college days. “No, no, no, no, no.” “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.”I glared at my brother. “I don’t need a babysitter. I’m twenty-two years old.” “Who said anything about babysitting?” Josh shrugged. “He’s looking after the house for me. I’m moving back in when I return next year, so it makes sense.” “Bullshit. You want him to keep an eye on me.” “That’s a bonus.” Josh’s face softened. “It doesn’t hurt to have someone you can rely on when I’m not here, especially given this whole thing with Liam.” I winced at the mention of my ex. Liam had been blowing up my phone since I caught him cheating on me a month and a half ago. He’d even shown up at the gallery where I worked a few times, begging for another chance. I wasn’t devastated by our breakup. We’d dated for a few months, and I hadn’t been in love with him or anything, but the situation had brought all my insecurities to the surface. Josh worried about Liam getting out of hand, but let’s be honest, Liam was a Brooks-Brother-wearing, polo-playing trust fund baby. I doubted he’d do anything that would mess up his perfectly gelled hair. I was more embarrassed I’d dated him than concerned about my physical safety. “I can handle myself.” I pulled Josh’s arm off my shoulder. “Call the moving company and cancel,” I told Alex, who’d been ignoring us and scrolling through his phone this whole time. “You do not need to move here. Don’t you have…stuff to do in D.C.?” “D.C. is a twenty-minute drive,” he said without looking up. “For the record, I am totally in favor of you moving in next door,” Jules piped up. Traitor. “Do you mow the lawn shirtless? If not, I highly recommend it.” Alex and Josh frowned at the same time. “You.” Josh pointed at her. “Do not pull any of your shenanigans while I’m gone.” “It’s cute how you think you have a say in my life.” “I don’t give a shit what you do with your life. It’s when you drag Ava into your harebrained schemes I’m concerned.” “Newsflash: you don’t have a say in Ava’s life either. She’s her own person.” “She’s my sister—”“She’s my best friend—” “Remember when you almost got her arrested—” “You have to let that go. That was three years ago—” “People!” I pressed my fingers to my temple. Dealing with Josh and Jules was like dealing with children. “Stop arguing. Josh, stop trying to control my life. Jules, stop provoking him.” Josh crossed his arms over his chest. “As your big brother, it’s my job to protect you and to appoint someone to fill in for me when I’m not here.” I grew up with him; I recognized that look on his face. He wasn’t budging. “I assume Alex is the fill-in?” I asked in a resigned tone. “I’m not a ‘fill-in’ anything,” Alex said icily. “Don’t do anything stupid, and we’ll be fine.” I groaned and covered my face with my hands. This was going to be a long year.