Page 79 of Damaged

“Who said the bonus was money?” He winks, and finally that smile comes back.

This little hiccup is just that—a small inconvenience. Although small as it is, it feels like it slaughtered our evening.

And how often would this happen if I actually dated James? How often would he be gone? Busy? Called away on business?

There’s a very valid reason he doesn’t date. It’s because all the man does is work. My shoulders sink as we walk to get a cab. There’s a reason what I felt was magic. It’s because a relationship with him couldn’t be real, could it?

James

Something I’ve learned about business is that it will always reach a crisis at the most inopportune time.

It’s like Murphy’s Law, only the universe is very much conscious of the best time disaster can strike to fuck up your day and chooses that exact moment to do so.

I guess this was good news. Getting the entire collection sold is a win. They’ve already been bought and sold before crossing the border. This looks like a clean sale, but really, I was money laundering for The Society. I want to get this blackmail over with.

But why does it have to be now? This entire thing is fake. We knew from the get-go that the artifacts would be bought by a foreign buyer and then sold again at a higher premium to another foreign buyer. Why did Cody call me so late?

There’s nothing too complicated about the plan. It’s classic offshore money laundering. Anonymous purchases, processed through shell companies, and then the next round of artifact sales is marked up. Unlike stock shares and real estate, art and artifacts can increase in value ten-fold overnight. They don’t need a reason to go up in price, other than that some rich guy decided he likes them.

But Cody had to call me tonight of all nights.

Kissing Sophia under the lights of Wollman’s Rink shocked even me. I had no idea how good it would feel to hold her. To have her. She turned me into a madman. A werewolf under the moonlight.

Her smell. Her hair. Her touch. I didn’t just want to kiss Sophia or fuck Sophia. I wanted toconsumeher. To blend her soul with mine. To make her an extension of myself, unable to survive without one another.

It was indescribable how much I wanted this woman, other than the fact that a kiss, as astonishing as it was, felt like a drop in the bucket, a scratch on the surface of what I want to do to Sophia Simms.

My heart is still beating hard. The cab drops Sophia off at the auction house, and I walk her to the doors and make sure she’s inside and they’re locked behind her before I get back in and am taken to The Jacksonian Society.

It’s not named after the president but some pioneer financier named Nathaniel Jackson who lived in the 1800s and practiced polygamy. A real role model.

The headquarters is the Grant Tower. It’s more of a bar and cigar room for the ultra-rich, where some of the most important networking and conversations in the world happen. Not only is it invite only, but your acceptance needs to be approved by the board.

I joined four years ago and have since become quite popular with the leading members. Only because I’m fresh blood in a room that at times looks like a retirement community. It would’ve been easier if I told them about Cody’s blackmail. But I handle things myself. I don’t snitch.

I can smell the heavy scent of cigar smoke before the elevator doors even open. I use my keycard to unlock the entrance, and I walk past the coat check.

I won’t be here long.

I find Cody’s private lounge room and open the door without a knock. It’s just him here—no, he’s not alone.

I step in, and a bald bodyguard shuts the door behind me. I don’t like being outnumbered with a scumbag like this, but it is too late to call my own security. Maybe that was Cody’s intention. I begin to glare before I even sit.

Maybe he had me followed tonight and picked a time when he knew I would want to get this over with and not bother withextra security. This is what Sophia has gotten me already. One night with her, and already I let my guard down.

“Well, well, well. How are you doing, buddy?” says Cody.

I make a fist. I could kill him for calling mebuddyalone. He smokes a thin cigar. A mild blend meant for your morning coffee, despite the late hour. It’s all so fitting. I’m sure a full-bodied smoke would have him puking like he found his daddy’s cigars.

“Why did you want to see me in person, Cody?”

“To celebrate the conclusion of our plan. Come. Sit.” He gestures to the leather chair across from him, but I stay standing and keep the bodyguard in my periphery.

“I’m not staying long. And I don’t see what we have to celebrate. The artifacts still need to have purchasing receipts, and the transactions all need to clear. Clean. A little early to pop the champagne, Cody.”

“I’m afraid you’ve got it wrong.”

I’m starting to grow hot. Anger constricts my fingers into tight fists. Cody looks at them and gulps, but then he glances at his guard and seems to get some confidence back.

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