CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER ONE

NOAH

I’m bored and don’t want to be here. Why did I let them talk me into coming?

I’ve been so busy lately that I haven’t been able to spend time with my brothers outside of work. They’ve been riding me for weeks to go out, and they finally wore me down. I broke. Never should have let it happen.

We’re in the VIP section of the Ruins, where anything goes for those who can afford it. And we can afford it.

Blake and Rob sit across from me, each with a girl on their laps. And each of a certain type: blonde, big-chested, full-lipped, both wearing next to nothing. They’re also easy and know the score—because they’ve been told—there are no promises. We’re here to have a good time, and that’s it. No strings attached. They always agree.

I’m on the couch across from them with a girl on either side of me, both willing to do anything. But I’m not feeling it. Not in the mood.

That’s because my head is back at the office going through numbers on whether we should purchase a luxury hotel in Atlantic City. It’s an important deal. I shouldn’t be here.

The girl on my right puts a hand on my thigh, hoping to gain my attention. She’s everything I look for in a companion: ready, willing, and able. She settles her hand on my cock and massages.

I stop her. “Not tonight.”

She studies me with disbelief, then nibbles my ear and whispers, “You want me to go down on you? I’ll suck you like a vacuum.”

Not that long ago, it would have taken me a half a second to accept her offer, but now I’m not interested.

I push myself off the couch and head for the exit.

“Hey,” the girl hollers.

Then one of my brothers calls, “Noah!”

I don’t look back and walk out the door and past the line of people loitering to get in.

My driver, Ted, is patiently waiting outside the club. “Mr. Dalton.” He opens the back door of the town car.

“Thanks, Ted.”

I glide in, and he closes the door, scurrying around the hood of the car and hunkering down behind the wheel.

“Take me home, Ted.”

I don’t miss the cocked eyebrow he gives me before pulling into traffic. “What? It was too loud in there. The noise gave me a headache.” He probably wants to know the real reason why I’m leaving so early. I’m not going to tell him.

He casually mentions I work too hard and that maybe I should take some time off. “Does a person good, you know?” Like I have time. I unlock my phone and check for messages. I might be getting too old for this.

In my mid-twenties, I could go all night and be ready for work the next day, easy. Now I’m in my thirties and would rather spend a quiet evening at home reading a book or watching sports.

I lean my head back against the seat. I need to relax. Maybe a lifestyle change is in order. Vacation? We’ll see in another twenty years.

At the moment, I’m working on too many things. Plus, there’s my mother’s birthday coming up. Need to stay the course. Maybe when some of the bigger projects are finished, I’ll take time off. Maybe.

What I should do is hand off more responsibility to my brothers. They’re ready. I’m just having a hard time giving it up. Control issues? I don’t know. Dad’s always telling us not to forget about family. That work isn’t all there is. But, hey, he isn’t always right.

The car rolls to a stop in front of my building. Ted puts it in Park and reaches for the handle.

“I got it, Ted,” I tell him, and pop the back door. “I’ll be working from home tomorrow, so take the day off.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Enjoy your Saturday off.”

“Thank you, sir.”

I unfold out of the back seat and close the door. Tap the roof of the car, giving Ted the all-clear. Smooth the sleeves of my custom-made suit. Pants and coat are charcoal-colored and made of cashmere. I like cashmere.

I walk to the front entrance of my apartment building. The glass door is being held open by the doorman. He’s dressed like most doormen employed by high-dollar establishments. Jacket buttoned up to the neck. Shoes shined to a sparkle. Hat and gloves.

“Hello, Mr. Dalton.”

“Hello, Henry.”

Henry is all of seventy-five and never seems to have a bad day. Someone asked him once if he was ever going to retire. He answered that he hoped to die at his station. My kind of guy.

“Did you have a pleasant evening, sir?”

“Yes, I did, Henry. Thank you.” He doesn’t need to hear how it really went. Why dump my garbage on him?

“That’s good, sir.”

“Have a nice evening, Henry.”

“You too, sir.”

I walk into the building and see Mr. Burgess—the concierge—standing behind his counter with a pen in his mouth, looking at me over a piece of paper. Burgess has been with us for three years. He’s brilliant at his job, which is probably why we pay him so well.

“Mr. Dalton.” He gives me a finger wave.

“Burge.” I like to call him Burge.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, thanks.”

“Okay.”

I move swiftly from there to the private elevator, and as I wait for the door to open, Spence, a member of the security team, approaches me.

“Mr. Dalton, sir.”

I turn and look at him. He’s fidgeting and his right eye is twitching. He must have messed up big time. “What is it, Spence?”

“You have a guest up at your place. She isn’t on the list.” He must notice my jaw tighten, because he hurries to add, “But she was here a couple of days ago. Said she left something in your apartment.”

I breathe deep. Want to scream as I’m choking him. There’s a short list of people allowed onto my floor, and whoever’s up there isn’t one of them. No doubt a random woman I slept with without learning her name. Her getting up there is one of those things that should’ve never happened.

“You’re fired, Spence. Now hit the road.” I glance at Burgess, who’s been eyeing us. “Hey, Burge. You want to come with me?”

The elevator I’ve been waiting for finally arrives, and the door slowly opens. Spence is still standing there. “Why are you still here, Spence?”

“I thought I’d go upstairs with you and escort the lady out.”

“But you don’t work here anymore.”

“Well, I thought––”

“You thought… What did you think when she sashayed by you and got on the elevator? And how did she get in the elevator?”

Spence looked at the carpeted floor.

“I think you’d better leave,” Mr. Burgess tells him.

“Won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t.” I step into the elevator. “If you’re not cleared out by the time Burgess gets back down here, you can forget about working in this town again. A toilet cleaning job will be out of reach by the time I’m finished with you.”

Spence takes a moment to catch his bearings because his world is spinning rapidly.

“Do you hear me, Spence?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Come on, Burge.”

Burge gets in the elevator, and we quietly ride to the top floor. There’s a ding when we arrive, then the door opens. Burge’s eyes bulge. The woman is posing naked on the couch. She’s put together nicely.

I don’t recall her name, and that’s probably because I didn’t pay any attention when she gave it to me.

She quickly covers herself when she notices Burge.

I don’t hesitate. “Put your clothes on, please. Time to leave.”

“Well, I thought . . .”

Oh my God! Here we go again with the “I thought.”

“Just leave,” I tell her, and say to Burge, “Take care of this for me, would you?”

“Yes, sir.”

I walk over to the custom bar and pour a glass of thirty-year-old Laphroaig single malt Scotch. Not the most expensive brand in my cabinet, but it’s the one I prefer when I’m cranky. And at the moment, I am cranky.

With a drink in my hand, I ease over to the window and stare out over the New York skyline. Burge and the woman are yakking back and forth behind me.

I’ve nearly finished my drink when the woman rips into Burge.

“You’re a fucking dick prick!”

Huh?

I assume she’s talking to me until Burge replies, “Thank you, ma’am. Now get in the goddam elevator… And quit fucking biting me!”

I snicker. That’s the first time I’ve heard him curse.

The elevator door closes. I swallow the last of my scotch, look at the glass. For a man who has everything, why doesn’t it feel that way?

I’ll have to delve into that, won’t I?