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She blinked. “Thank you for oversharing.”
“I could have gone further.”
“Well, don’t. Ever. I’m pleased for your happiness…but I’m your sister and no, I don’t need to hear about all that.”
“I’ll spare you the details,” he said, still looking too smug for her liking. “But back to my plan, which has nothing to do with you looking at flower arrangements.”
“I’m listening.”
“You know Logan Black, I assume?”
“Everyone knows Logan Black, Austin. He was the only headline in the world two years ago. He got more press than Dad, and that’s saying something. He came back from the dead, after all.”
“Fair point,” Austin said. “I assume, since you’re aware of his circumstances, you’re also aware that he’s now the acting CEO of Black Properties.”
“I’m aware of that, yes. I do own a TV. Also, I make it a point to stay abreast of things that affect high society. Lest I appear gauche at luncheons,” she said, her tone dry.
“Logan and I knew each other in college. He’s…a friend. Or rather…I think he’s a friend. What passes for a friend to Logan isn’t the same as friendship for most people. At least not these days.”
“What does this have to do with me?”
“Because I got you an internship with him.”
“What?”
“Unpaid drudge work with the man at the top of your industry. You’re welcome.”
She blinked. “You’re assuming I actually want to work in that industry.”
“Actually I’m assuming that you’d like to escape the press.”
The media had been in a frenzy ever since the story broke about Jason. And now the press was camped outside their house upstate, the event of a death intense enough for them to break their moratorium on leaving the city, and outside Austin’s office building. They were also roaming around the Manhattan penthouse her mother owned.
“And you honestly think taking an internship with Black will help me avoid the press?”
“If there’s one thing Black knows, it’s how to stay out of the spotlight when he wants to. No one has to know you’re there. And if the press does find out you’re there, it won’t seem at all unusual given your field of study.”
Addison leaned back in her chair. “You’ve thought a lot about this, haven’t you?”
“Handy thing about guilt, it can really tap in to your problem-solving skills.” Austin stood and started to pace the length of the room. “Logan Black is not someone I would typically want you around, given his reputation. But he seems to have calmed down some. Since his resurrection.”
Austin wasn’t wrong. About the chance to hide out from the press, or about Logan Black. Considering his story, Logan should’ve been a media darling. But the man had a knack for staying out of the spotlight when he wanted to. He had changed a lot in the past four years. Two of which he’d spent presumed dead.
And when he came back, the playboy had transformed into something else entirely. A ruthless businessman who, by all accounts, was difficult, demanding, unpredictable. And reclusive.
And Austin had set her up to work with him. For free.
Her month really was getting better and better.
But considering her situation, she didn’t have a better option.
She was tired of being hounded by the press, and she needed to keep busy. Otherwise she would end up curled into a sugarcoated ball of misery. Reliving that night over, and over. The night that everything had gone to hell. The night her father had most certainly gone to hell.
“He’s…” Addison started, not really sure how to broach the topic of Logan. Or how to express her concerns. Going from living with one male psychopath to another wasn’t exactly what she wanted.
Not that Logan was a confirmed psychopath, but…
She started again. “He’s not the same.”
“He’s not,” Austin said. “But he’s not going to hurt you either. Actually I would have trusted him with you a whole lot less before than I do now. I mean, at least he’s not going around seducing everything in a skirt.”
“I prefer to wear pantsuits in the office. And you’re assuming I’m seduceable.”
Austin’s expression turned fierce. “No, I’m assuming nothing about you. But what I do know is that I’m slightly wary of men who treat women like they exist for nothing more than sex. I don’t want you exposed to anything like that.”
“You mean you don’t want me to be exposed to anything like that again. You forget I lived with our father for almost all of my life, and he was certainly one of those men. Wasn’t he?” A small part of her hoped that Austin would say no. A small part of her was still hoping to wake up and find this was all a terrible mistake.
“He was,” Austin said, his tone grave. “But Logan isn’t. Not now. And that’s all I mean.”
Addison cleared her throat. “Great. That’s…I mean, this is great, Austin. Thank you.”
“And he’ll provide lodging.”
She arched her eyebrows, a strange jolt of foreboding settling in her stomach. “Will he?”
“Yes. He was quite adamant about that. It has to do with his work schedule, and you’ll be fulfilling the role of personal assistant. But I think it will be especially good, since you don’t have the sorority house, and since the press seems to be permanently camped outside Treffen residences.”
“Probably suits you too. Related to you being in love, you don’t want me in your penthouse…being in your way.” Austin was entirely head over heels for his fiancée, in ways Addison could not imagine ever being for anyone. But while she didn’t relate to exactly what he was feeling, she logically understood that he would rather be alone with Katy than sharing his space with her.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Well, that too. Without going into emotionally scarring details.”
“You’re too kind, Austin.”
“Hey, a chance to stay in a luxury hotel and live in style, while taking a break from school? That’s not bad.”
“And who’s going to pay for my ‘living in style’?”
“Me. And then Dad’s big effing insurance payout.”
She made a face. “I don’t really like taking money from him. Money from what he did.”
“Like it or not,” Austin said, turning his chair to face the city skyline, “our entire life was financed by him.”
She stared straight ahead, her vision blurring. “What a legacy.”
“Yeah. So let’s make it a better one.”
Addison pushed the individual Skittles piles together. “Yes. Let’s do that.”
She would. She would make things better somehow. Even if it just started with her being a good intern. Because she wasn’t just lying down and giving up, no matter what the people around her seemed to think. Her life wasn’t over. It was just beginning.
Chapter Two
Logan Black looked out the window, directly across from his desk. The view of Fifth Avenue was both entrancing and slightly off-putting. Depending on his mood.
And his moods were subject to change at a moment’s notice.
The streets were packed with cars, nothing unusual, but the kind of thing that made his vision swim when it caught him off guard. Like just now.
He should have closed the curtains.
He turned his focus away from the view and leaned back in his chair, looking at the time displayed on his phone. Addison Treffen was due to arrive any moment. The beautiful daughter of the recently murdered Jason Treffen. If her brother hadn’t called in the favor, he would have happily chosen almost anyone else.
There was no place for soft, beautiful women in his life. Not now.
But Austin was one of the few people who tried to maintain a friendship with him since his return. And while Logan hadn’t done much to reciprocate, the gesture was appreciated.
Still, the idea of bringing Addison into Black Book, keeping her here…
Yesterday, it had seemed that it might work. Today, he was less certain.
He was used to that. To his moods changing like the tide. To New York feeling like a storm he could swim through one day—and one that would drown him in the depths the next.
Some days were much harder than others and he could never quite pinpoint what kind of day it would be. It usually started with shoes. That was often the biggest clue. How much did they bother him when he put them on? How much did he resent having to wear them?
If the shoes were a problem, it was a fair bet that the Manhattan streets would be too. That the traffic below would feel like his own personal hell.
Shoes had been a problem this morning. Which meant his meeting with Addison would be interesting indeed.
Though it occurred to him he might need to put his shoes on before she arrived.
He looked down at the pair of shoes and socks beneath his desk. Just a standard pair of black dress socks, and a pair of very expensive, handmade leather shoes.
He’d left them under there last night after he kicked them off.
Funny, he’d owned the shoes for something like five years now, but they’d rarely been worn. In part because they’d been new when he left, and in part because since he’d returned he worn them as little as possible.
He didn’t want to wear them. So he wouldn’t.
Ms. Treffen would learn very quickly what it was to work with him. He did not bend for convention. He forced others to bend to him.
But he was aware now of what was necessary and what was simply an extra rule imposed by society. He’d been a man stripped down to nothing. A man at his simplest, at his darkest. Where there was nothing more than life or death. Where there certainly weren’t rules about what sort of shoes he should wear into work. Or if he should wear them at all.
Though he realized that whether he cared or not, others did.
He also realized that sometimes there was a lot of power in making others uncomfortable.
There was a knock at his office door, and he knew it had to be her. Because she was the only person the front desk had permission to allow up. And because he didn’t like being paged over the intercom, a knock was the only way anyone could signal their presence.
There were a lot of things he didn’t like now. One of the many reasons his old friends, barring Austin Treffen, seemed to find him boring these days. But it didn’t bother him.
The feeling was entirely mutual.
“Come in,” he said, putting his hands on his desk, palms down, as strange, restless energy surging through him. It was like this with people. Always.
The door cracked open, and she led with her leg. A shapely, stocking-clad leg. There was no avoiding the fact that it was a nice leg. That wasn’t even up for debate. Even in his twisted brain, where things often seemed backward or upside down, a nice leg made sense.
The woman that followed the leg was even better than the body part in isolation. Blond, petite, with blue eyes that were like a deep, clear sea. Her lips were full, a pale pink not like anything found in nature on his island. It was far too delicate a shade.
She was wearing a white skirt that tapered to fit her shape, ending just below her knee, a matching, fitted jacket conforming to her curves.
And on her feet, adding, he had no doubt, to the shapeliness of her legs, were a pair of black high heels that added nearly four inches to her height and likely pushed her feet into a near-impossible position.
He’d never given much thought to women’s shoes prior to his experience on the island. But now that he resented his own footwear so damn much, he couldn’t help wondering just how contorted Addison’s feet would be in something like that.
Though the wonderment in no way detracted from her legs.
Every part of Addison Treffen was exquisite. Photos of her in the news didn’t do her justice.
“Mr. Black,” she said, his eyes level with his. “I’m Addison Treffen. My brother arranged this meeting and—”
“I’m fully aware of the details of the arrangement.”
She blinked, her expression remaining neutral. “Well, I had thought it possible my brother spoke with someone you worked for.”
“One thing you will learn about me, Ms. Treffen—nothing happens here without my approval. And no one would be permitted in my office, on my floor, in my hotel, without my arranging it.”
The hardness in his tone didn’t ruffle her. The petite, small-framed woman with her smooth hair, skin and clothes, staring him down with an expression that bordered on serenity, was not at all what he’d expected. “Was the hotel room on offer for anyone who took up the spot?” she asked, her fingers shifting on her handbag, the only slight tell of nerves he’d seen since she walked in.
“Yes,” he said. “I understand that an internship, an unpaid one, is not the easiest thing to negotiate, so it seemed a nice offer.” And in addition to that, he rarely left the hotel. Which meant any assistant of his had to be here.
“Technically, that makes it paid in a way,” she said.
“If you like.”
She smiled and for a moment he was at a loss as to the appropriate social response. Smile back, obviously.
Yes. Obviously.
He smiled, but had a feeling it looked more like a grimace. “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chair that was situated across from his desk.
She crossed the room and complied, her gold bag held tight against her stomach, her hands wrapped around it like claws.
Still, her overall demeanor was calm and when she sat, some of the tension eased from her hands.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “it’s been a strange couple of weeks. To say the least.”
“I heard about your father,” he said, watching her expression. Something kicked over in him, reminding him that he had skipped something important. Something appropriate. “I’m sorry.” The words came too late to seem genuine.
