Page 90 of Fifth Avenue Devil

Nate, the man who dominated my most intimate moments and took my virginity with passion and desire, has betrayed me. My parents, the people who should have protected me, used me as their pawn. Now, Lori is my only remaining friend. She’s my sole confidante in this twisted world.

I've lost my company, my reputation, my family... and Nate...

Thirty-Four

Nate

Why am I here?I wonder.

This charity gala is as boring as the last one, and the one before that. I'm already three drinks in, my tuxedo rumpled and hair disheveled from the sleepless night that preceded this gala. I tossed and turned, thinking about the last time that I shared my bed with Annalise.

Where is she right now? Probably holed up somewhere. The news that Annalise was fired from Gellar Industries is everywhere. She’s unlikely to show her face when it’s being splashed across the front page of every newspaper, along with the headlineCEO Fired. Investigation Of Embezzlement Looms!

And as for me? I’m skulking around the ballet gala, hoping against hope that she’ll be here in spite of all that.

I don’t know why I want to see her so badly. She made me weak. And yet, I’m here, skulking around and hoping to catch a glimpse of Annalise.

"Pull it together, Nate," I mutter under my breath.

I shouldn't be here, not with Annalise haunting every corner of my thoughts. But I couldn't resist the chance to make sure she's doing okay after I forced her out of her company. It was just business. That's what I've been telling myself. Nothing personal.

But I know better than anyone how much Gellar Industries meant to her. It was her family's legacy. She was determined to prove herself worthy of it.

Now she’s the punchline to many New Yorkers’ nasty jokes.

My phone buzzes. I look at it and find yet another alert for Annalise’s name. It reads, “Annalise Gellar, the latest CEO of Gellar Industries, has been fired by the board after she was found embezzling over twenty million dollars.”

The information that this article is based on is blatantly wrong. I scroll up and squint at the author’s name. Constance Lee.

I know that name. She’s Cash’s pet journalist.

Well Constance, you can go fuck yourself. And take your shitty source with you.

Was firing Annalise what I wanted? Yes, sort of. But now, articles are being written and YouTubes are being made that point to her as the obvious suspect. Somehow, I didn’t anticipate that part.

Though it seems obvious now. I should have anticipated this.

As the orchestra begins another elegant waltz, I scan the room for any sign of her. Those golden curls or that fierce, stubborn gaze that had once held me captive.

But she's nowhere to be found. I didn't expect her to show up. Still, disappointment claws at my chest.

"Looking for someone, Nate?" A voice interrupts my brooding. I turn to find James, smirking in his perfectly tailored suit. My twin brother knows me too well. The bastard was always able to read my thoughts as if I were an open book.

"None of your business," I snap.

"Come on. We both know you're searching for Annalise. How's she doing since you took over Gellar Industries? Are you enjoying playing the ruthless businessman?" he taunts, but there's no heat behind his words. He may enjoy poking fun at me, but he also understands the weight I carry.

He, too, feels the loneliness that comes with being a Fordham.

"Like I said, it's none of your business," I reply, my voice sharper than intended.

James raises an eyebrow, studying me for a moment before speaking again. "Look, Nate, you're not fooling anyone. Your heart was never in this takeover. I’m surprised that you went through with it! It's clear you care for Annalise. I thought you brought her to the poker tournament to test the waters for announcing your relationship.”

I push out a harsh breath. “She’s the daughter of my business rival. I’m a capitalist through and through. At the end of the day, I only care about money. It was destined to end this way.”

But with Annalise gone, why do I feel like I’ve been run over by a steamroller? Flat, dull, lifeless. Am I really this sad about a break-up?

James looks at me intently, pursing his lips. "Why don’t we get out of here?" he asks. "The Porter’s Club is right around the corner. We can catch up in relative privacy."

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