Page 91 of Fifth Avenue Devil

I swing my tired, slightly drunken gaze around the room. All around me, there are deals being made and jokes being cracked. I’m not in the mood for any of it.

Besides, there is no sign of Annalise. Why bother staying?

"Fine," I begrudgingly agree. “As long as they have more scotch.”

My brother pushes me out of the room, shaking his head. Together, we leave the gala behind and make our way down the darkened Manhattan streets.

We soon arrive at a discreet brownstone building tucked between two modern high-rises. The contrast between the old and new façades is stark. James punches a code into a sleek keypad and hustles me in the front door.

The interior is rich and masculine, with dark wood paneling and plush leather furniture. A hushed murmur of voices drifts up from the downstairs lounge. Uniformed waiters drop drinks off to guests and collect empty glasses. On any other night, I would be tempted to join this room.

But James knows my moods too well for that. He pushes me toward the back of the foyer. We ascend the elegant staircase to a private library. I look at the walls, lined with leather-bound volumes and exquisite pieces of art.

An impeccably dressed employee appears almost instantly, a testament to the level of service in this exclusive sanctuary. "Bottled water for both of us," James orders without hesitation.

"Make that a Scotch for me," I counter.

"We’re fine with water," James says firmly. He levels me with a serious gaze. I shrug and the employee disappears to fetch our drinks.

As I sink into one of the overstuffed leather chairs, I feel a sense of foreboding. Whatever James has to say, it's bound to be something I don't want to hear.

But a part of me hopes that he has an answer to the gnawing emptiness inside me. An emptiness that seems to grow every moment since I pushed Annalise away.

The chilled glass bottle of water lands on the mahogany table between us with a soft thud, accompanied by two crystal-clear glasses. The employee vanishes as silently as he appeared, leaving James and me in the dimly lit library.

"Let me guess," James says, pouring his water. "You listened to Cash's advice about Gellar Industries?"

"Unfortunately," I mutter. I slouch down in my chair.

James throws his head back and laughs. He quickly catches himself. "Sorry, Nate. But you've got to admit, Cash isn't exactly the best person to give relationship advice. He's in it for the money, not for the... emotionalwhatever."

"Tell me about it. Sometimes I think that guy is destined to be one of those billionaire seventy-year-olds who marries a girl young enough to be his granddaughter."

"Or he'll never settle down at all, knowing him." James fills my glass and nudges it toward me. “Drink this. It’s not a good look to wander around drunk in public. For fuck’s sake.”

I gulp the water down, then go right back to lamenting my decision. "The point is, I screwed up with Annalise. I tried to do what I would normally have done. But… I’m starting to think that was a mistake.”

James snorts. “Ya think?”

“I thought you were here to console me.” I rub a hand over my face, blearily.

“Sorry. Old habits die hard.” He crosses his legs and gives me a serious look. “You screwed up. Go on.”

I shrug. “And now she’s dumped me. Or we broke up? The details are kind of fuzzy.”

“Let me ask you a question. Did you and Annalise ever use that four-letter word? You know the one."

"Love?" I feel like my stomach is lined with icy rocks. "Just once. The night before I fired her, actually."

James blinks. "You fucking fool," he mutters.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, brother.” But deep down, I know he's right. I've been an idiot.

"So. You've driven her away. How are you going to fix this mess you've made?"

I run my tongue over my teeth. “Do you think I can?”

"Depends. Can you continue on this path you're on?" His voice is heavy with concern. "You seem lonely and miserable."

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