Page 58 of Fifth Avenue Devil

“Okay, so we’ll be filthystinkingrich. Is that better?”

I grimace and check my watch. “Let’s get going. I have meetings this afternoon that I have to get to.”

Cash claps me on the back. “There’s the cold, money-machine I know and love.”

As we head back towards the park entrance, I force myself to keep pace with my brother's long strides. But my brain slows down, thoughts of Annalise making me struggle to keep up.

Her captivating smile, fierce determination, and how she challenges me like no one else. I picture her face when she realizes I’ve just sold her out for a few million.

It makes my chest feel tight.

My brothers' laughter and teasing resumes as we continue our jog. It’s as if nothing has changed. But I can't help but feel the weight of the decision I've just made.

Can I follow through with it even if it means losing the one woman who's managed to break down my carefully constructed walls?

Twenty-Three

Annalise

God. What am I doing here?

The answer is simple. I’m going out without Nate. It seems like lately, all I do is go to work and then have passionate sex with Nate at his place. While I’m all for the multiple orgasms Nate gives me, a thought has nagged me for the last couple of days.

It feels like I’m starting to depend on Nate Fordham to have a good time. And I can’t have that. Nate and I have a very specific relationship. One that was outlined in a contract, for god’s sake.

I need to exist outside of Nate and his expectations for a night. And it just so happened that my cousin Dana texted me an invite to go clubbing. She always sends them, but I’ve never answered.

Until tonight.

I swallow tightly. The bass pulses like a second heartbeat. It thuds against my chest as I step into the room. Neon lights streak across a throng of people on the dance floor. The bodies in motion lit from above are a strange new art form. The air is thick. I smell designer fragrances mixed with the tang of sweat.

Do I really want to go any further?

My mother's voice, a ruthless echo of etiquette in my head, screeches at full volume in my head. I swivel my gaze and take in the scantily clad dancers. At the bar, a group of men down a shot. A woman in a ruby-red dress makes out with a man twice her age.

There are so many things that Monique Gellar would hate with a passion. But the Annalise she raised to sit primly, legs crossed, and lips sealed, is not here tonight.

The strobes catch my reflection in a nearby mirror as I follow my cousin past it. Blonde curls bounce untamed around my petite shoulders. A sparkly white minidress clings to my frame. I even catch a glint of rebellion in my eyes. For once, I'm not the nice girl.

I’m someone else entirely.

My cousin Dana catches my hand. "I’m so glad you came out!"

“I’m glad you invited me,” I intone. But I’m pretty sure that the pulsating music’s chaotic sounds swallow my words.

Dana is undoubtedly crowing in victory at the sight of me finally stepping off the pedestal of perfection. Our whole lives, I’ve been the good one, while Dana has been the one my parents whisper about.

Poor girl, caught out partying at all hours. She’s only thirteen!

I remember, all too well, the satisfied smirks my parents shared in secret. They were gleeful because they liked to see others struggle. Or maybe because they knew that their little girl would never dare to be caught out late?

What would Archer and Monique say now? I don’t even have to wonder.

“Hey! Keep up with me, please! I don’t want to lose you in this crowd,” Dana says. “I know this is your first time at a club, so it’s vital that you stick to me like glue.”

My stomach does a flip. Dana’s perfect smile, and perfect pinup blonde locks, do little to reassure me.

“Okay,” I mumble. Inside, I’m wondering if this was a terrible idea.

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