Page 8 of Fifth Avenue Devil

"Take it on the way out. I have to work a full day, unlike you, apparently."

He mouths goodbye as he heads toward the door. Propping his phone between his shoulder and his ear, Cash swans out of my office as he answers. "Is it done?" I hear his voice receding down the hallway.

Pushing out a long breath, I walk around my desk and sit in my leather chair. I set my tumbler aside and I turn toward the window. From this vantage point, I have a nice view of the azure Central Park Reservoir. This is my favorite spot to think.

I think about Annalise Gellar and how I'm going to dominate her the second we meet.

I think about how lonely I am, and how I could plan a date on the same apps my brother Cash frequents. But the last time I did, I felt much lonelier after the sex was over. My loneliness is at war with my personal quest for dominion over this whole damn city.

No one wants what I want. And no oneneedsto dominate like I do.

I decide to pull up my luxury realty app and peruse the multimillion-dollar listings until I hit a compound in Aspen that looks manicured and immaculate. I buy it without a moment's hesitation. I contact my property broker and tell her the property address before writing SOLD in solid block letters.

The satisfaction makes the threatening loneliness quiet down for a moment. Maybe only for tonight, or the next few days. Still, it's better than nothing.

Then I Google Annalise Gellar and scroll through her pictures, trying to formulate just what I'm going to say to her when I see her next.

Four

Annalise

My mother cuts her eyes at me as we climb the black marble stairs to the charity gala. "I wish you would have worn the outfit I laid out for you. It was classy."

"It was one of your old dresses, Mom. It has a high neck, long sleeves, and is ballroom length. It was clearly meant for a sixty-five-year-old."

She points her chin toward the top of the staircase. Her lips harden into a thin line. "Look at what you're wearing. It's disgraceful."

I glance down at the silver bodycon dress that I chose instead. It is a little short, as it ends midthigh. But it doesn't show too much cleavage. It has a pretty daringly low-cut back, but that's about it.

God, I have to get out from Mom’s thumb. I can’t stand the amount of control she has over me, even now.

Before I can say anything in my own defense, we hit the top of the stairs. As soon as we do, my mom sees a cluster of her friends gathered near the doorway leading into the ballroom. Their heads are bowed together, and they are all obviously gossiping about some poor girl's dress.

Mom grabs me by the arm and starts marching us toward the group of backstabbing snakes. But I yank myself free.

"Let me go!" I hiss. "People are going to talk if they don't see me mingling. I'm the CEO of Gellar Industries now. There are lots of business opportunities in this room."

My mom recoils as if I just splashed her with a bucket of ice water. "Just another reason why you shouldn't be CEO. You should be more concerned about finding the right husband than the day-to-day performance of our company's stock."

I summon my nerve and smile at her. "Dad named me his successor and you don't have a single word of say over any of it. I'm twenty-four years old, Mom. I'm my own person. Deal with it."

My mom glowers at me. But I turn on my heel and flounce into the ballroom, unaccompanied. As I walk through the crowd of men in their penguin suits and women in their glittering jewelry and slinky gowns, I suck in a breath. Grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, I drink it in three huge gulps.

Despite what I just told my mom, I’m little scared to be on my own out here. I feel like everyone is sizing me up, comparing me to my father as CEO, and then dismissing me.

"Miss Gellar?" a cultured, older man asks. I peg him as one of the people who were sizing me up.

"That's me!" I say, forcing myself to sound cheerful.

His brows rise, but he extends his hand. "Herbert Gimes."

I shake his hand a bit forcefully, feeling the need to overcompensate for my petite size. Herbert's thick, unkempt brows rise again, this time staying up near his hairline.

"Mr. Gimes. How do you do?"

He takes his hand back with a small smile. "Very well, Miss Gellar. It's good to see you out and about representing your company tonight."

"Yes, er." I rack my brain for a memory of Mr. Gimes. "Are you a friend of my father's?"

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