Page 57 of Boyfriend of the Hour
I could imagine Marie’s face at that question.Come on, Joni, she’d say.Let’s not pretend you’re not still fourteen at heart.
Oh, God. Not even close. Even my imaginary sister had no idea about that.
“I’ve known her since she was maybe six,” Michael continued after another audible sip of what I guessed was the six-pack he’d brought for after the job was done. “And the whole time, she’s had every person in her family henpecking her to death, doing shit for her because they think she can’t do it herself. They weren’t doing her any favors. I can’t say that to Lea, but it’s the truth.”
I scowled. I wanted to argue. But he…wasn’t wrong. And I hated that just as much as I hated the fact that he was saying it to Nathan.
“Joni doesn’t strike me as incompetent,” Nathan replied. “Maybe a bit inexperienced. But she’s still young.”
“She is,” Mike agreed. “Joni’s seen things like all of us have in the neighborhood. Stuff no kids should have to. But her brother and sisters worked damn hard to shield her from whatever theycould, so she’s more naive than most too. Which makes her an easy target. Especially for the kinds of people who are used to having pretty things. And used to having what they want, when they want it.”
Shawn flashed through my mind. I shook his face away. No, that wasn’t what he was talking about. None of my family members knew about Shawn. No one except Marie, and she only knew the bare minimum and had never breathed a word.
There was a long silence while the men sipped their drinks together. I could easily imagine Nathan’s face while he mulled things over. Probably wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into inviting me to stay here. Probably thinking he’d made a huge mistake.
“Lea doesn’t need me to say it, but I will anyway,” Mike said just as I was about to walk away. “If you fuck her over, you won’t just have all the Zolas to deal with—you’ll have me too. And I can promise you won’t like it.”
“Why is that?” Nathan seemed honestly curious.
Mike snorted. “Do you actuallywantto fuck around and find out?”
His tone was as even and easy as it had ever been. Anyone else listening would never have suspected the threat laced with unspoken violence was like an invite to watch the next Knicks game.
But I knew my brother-in-law. Michael Scarrone was quiet and generally did whatever my sister told him these days, but when he made a threat like that, smart people took him seriously.
I hoped Nathan would understand the meaning there. I hoped he wouldn’t have to find it out another way.
There was the sound of shuffling, then jingling of metal on metal before something hard was set down. Maybe on the counter.
“That’s the key to this apartment,” Nathan said, his voice just as low and serious as Mike’s. “Take it. If I ever do a single thing to harm Joni in any way, you have my permission to come here and levy whatever punishment you think is necessary. I’ll be here waiting for it.”
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even exhale the breath I’d been holding the whole time he’d spoken.
Mike was quiet for a long time, but IthoughtI heard the sound of him picking up the key. “You for real?”
Nathan’s answer was immediate. “I don’t make a lot of jokes.”
Well, I knew that was definitely true.
There was another long silence. Then Mike chuckled lightly. “You know something? I believe that.”
“I want what’s best for her,” Nathan said, almost as much to himself as to Mike. “I only want to help her. That’s all.”
My stomach clenched at his final words. I wasn’t sure if it was relief in knowing he cared for me. Or with regret that he didn’t, in fact, want anything more at all.
MONEY DOESN’T BUY MANNERS
“There he is. The prodigal son of Huntwell Corp.”
Nathaniel Hunt sat down across from his brother in one of the leather barrel chairs at the Union Club on East Fourteenth Street, New York City.
He hadn’t been to the pretentious men’s club in a while. Maybe six months, maybe a year. The last time they were in town, his parents had told him to go, along with the list of other directives toward one clear goal: start acting like the eldest son and heir to the Huntwell Corporation or see other things he cared about disappear from his life.
Things from his past.
Things like Lindsay. Things like Isla.
“I hear you got yourself a new roommate,” Carrick remarked as he swirled brown liquid around in a glass. “That’s, what, lucky number forty?”
