King of Envy: Chapter 12

The note contained no fingerprints, no DNA, and no way to identify who’d sent it or where they’d bought the card stock.

My team’s lab analysis results confirmed my suspicions, but we were missing something. I was sure of it.

Find me before they do.

It’d been a week since I chased down Blue Cap. His background check turned out to be as dull as his wits; he really was just an unfortunate soul the mystery Brother had picked out to do his dirty work.

If the Brother wanted me to find him, he would’ve left a clue. A search of the abandoned auto repair shops in and around the city had yielded nothing. If he was moonlighting as an actual mechanic, that broadened our search radius by miles.

I turned over the details of the situation in my head.

The facts: The man from the photo was a member of the Brotherhood, he was still in New York, and instead of hiding, he wanted to get my attention. He should know I wouldn’t let the Vault’s fire slide, so his motive for doing so had to outweigh his desire to live.

The unknowns: The reason for the Brotherhood’s sudden interest in me again, whether the mystery Brother was acting on his own or with the leadership’s approval, why he didn’t seek me out himself, and who “they” were. It could be the Brotherhood; it could be someone else.

There were far too many unknowns for my comfort.

As if shit wasn’t complicated enough, I also had to deal with work, the wedding, and my hunch about Beaumont while Sean investigated Blue Cap’s motor oil clue.

I blinked away the mental image of the note and refocused on my computer screen. It was playing a video of Stella Alonso’s latest runway show. I’d already watched it, but I liked having it on while I worked.

New York Fashion Week had just ended, and while I would never attend the shows in person, I kept up with select ones online.

Stella, Delamonte, Prada, Saint Laurent, Dior. They all had one thing in common.

The music’s bass dropped, and my pulse tripped in anticipation.

A second later, Ayana appeared on the runway in an ethereal lavender dress. Her skin glowed effortlessly beneath the lights, and loose curls peeked out from an ornate headpiece. The headpiece shadowed half her face, but I’d watched her walk enough times to recognize her distinctive strut.

The Ayana Kidane on the catwalk was a different person from the one who’d invited me for coffee and teased me about bingo. Her persona morphed with every show, oscillating from playful and flirty to haughty and regal. A goddess to suit every mood.

But no matter what role she slipped into, onstage or offstage, she maintained a spark that was entirely her own. It was that spark that kept me coming back over and over again.

Waiting. Watching. Obsessing.

The video ended. I contemplated replaying it for a third time, but a new text interrupted me first.

Reality ground my momentary pleasure into dust. The bachelor party was this weekend, a fact I’d tried to forget even as I confirmed the plan with other attendees.

I scowled. Jordan was the only person who could’ve convinced me to throw that disastrous party in college. He was always encouraging me to “loosen up and have fun.” I’d finally caved to his incessant pleas, and look what that’d gotten us—a formal disciplinary hearing with the school, a permanent ban from the local supermarket, and two hundred rolls of toilet paper that we couldn’t give away fast enough.

Had it been fun? Sort of, while it lasted.

Had I loosened up? No.

A low growl rumbled in my chest.

I did hate parties, but I’d agreed to be the best man. I wasn’t going to pawn my duties off on someone else, no matter how much I loathed the task.

Thankfully, Jordan was laid-back when it came to parties. Give him a strong drink and good music, and he was happy. It was one of his best qualities. Despite his wealthy background, there wasn’t a pretentious bone in his body.

I set my phone aside and tried to refocus, but now that the bachelor party and, by extension, the wedding were on my mind, I couldn’t get them out.

Jordan and Ayana.

Ayana and Jordan.

The walls of my office closed in. Pressure suffocated my chest, and I suddenly couldn’t stand to be inside anymore.

I logged out of my computer, grabbed my jacket from the back of my chair, and stalked out of my office.

My staff fell silent as I passed, their wide eyes tracking my path to the elevator like they were afraid I might snap if they took their attention off me.

The elevator doors opened. Two junior marketers were already inside, but when they saw me, they leapt out as if it were on fire.

“Sorry, Mr. Markovic,” one of them said. “It’s all yours.” He stared a bit too long at my scar before his friend elbowed him. He quickly looked away, his face crimson.

I stepped into the elevator without replying. It stopped at two more floors on the way to the lobby, but no one else entered.

Outside, the city teetered on the brink of another thunderstorm. Rain had shrouded the streets in gray the past few days, and despite a promising morning of sunshine and blue skies, today was proving to be no exception.

I breathed in the fresh air, letting it calm the flames licking at the insides of my stomach. Sean would lose his mind if he saw me out in the open like this amidst the Brotherhood threat, but I’d never hid from anything or anyone in my life. I wasn’t about to start now.

I had taken care to wear Kevlar-reinforced clothing and carry a concealed weapon with me, but I knew the Brothers wouldn’t take me out with a quick bullet in public. They’d want something more personal.

Five minutes later, I found myself in front of a familiar storefront. According to one of Ayana’s interviews, it was her favorite juice bar in the city.

I hadn’t planned to come here—I hated juice—but my feet had a mind of their own.

Or…My pulse sped up when the door opened and a stunning brunette stepped out. The universe has its own plans.

What were the odds I’d show up at the exact same time Ayana was leaving?

She stopped short in front of me. She carried a green juice in one hand and her phone in the other. “First the café, now the juicery.” Her eyes gleamed with surprise. “Mr. Markovic, are you following me?”

No. My answer came out terser than intended. My office is nearby. I’m on my lunch break.

“I know. I was joking.” Ayana pocketed her phone and hitched the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder.

A beat of silence passed between us.

Her heels put her four inches closer to my eye level, but otherwise, she was dressed down in a T-shirt, jeans, and makeup-free face. Even so, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly the other day. My movements were stiff. An emergency came up.

“It’s okay. I had to leave for a fitting anyway.” She cocked her head. “A thank-you and an apology in the same month. It must be winter in hell.”

Don’t get used to it.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

More silence.

I stepped closer to allow a mother and her son past. Ayana’s mouth opened, then closed without a word.

All the while, the impending storm gathered overhead in billowing dark clouds.

And yet, neither of us moved to leave.

I had a mile-long to-do list back at the office, but I could stay here with her forever. Just us, just like this.

A drop of water landed on my cheek, jarring me back to reality. Several others fell in rapid succession, and that was our last warning before the skies finally opened up and shattered the peace.

Torrents of rain poured down like the wrath of God, flooding the streets and soaking us to the bone.

“Shit!” Ayana squealed and ran for the scaffolding across the street. She used her purse as an umbrella until she was safely under shelter.

I followed her, less concerned about myself than I was about her running in heels, but I shouldn’t have worried. She made it without so much as a stumble.

“I guess that was our fault for not taking cover earlier,” she said breathlessly. The scaffolding provided some reprieve, but the slant of the rain continued to sprinkle us with droplets. “I knew I should’ve brought an umbrella today. I hate getting caught in the rain. My shoes get—” She cut herself off with an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry, I’m rambling. I’m sure you don’t care about what happens to my shoes.”

I care about everything relevant to you. The thought passed, silent and fleeting, before I locked it away.

How are you getting home?

“The subway,” Ayana said. “If the rain doesn’t let up soon, I’ll call an Uber.”

The nearest subway station was blocks away and prone to floods during heavy rain. I grimaced at the mental image of her packed into a train with drenched, unvetted strangers.

No need for an Uber. I’ll drive you.

“That’s not necessary. I⁠—”

My car isn’t far. I shrugged off my jacket and handed it to her. Use this for cover instead. Your purse looks expensive.

Ayana crossed her arms. “Are you always this bossy?”

.Yes

“It’s not an endearing trait, you know.”

I know.

She huffed and made no move to take the jacket from me.

At this point, she had to be refusing out of sheer stubbornness. How could a filthy train or paying surge pricing to sit in a stranger’s car compare to a free ride home?

Rats are more likely to come out in the rain. Don’t be surprised if you run across a family of them in the station. I paused, then added, Have you seen a subway rat? They’re the size of cats.

Ayana faltered. “I haven’t, but that’s not true. You made that up.”

I cocked an eyebrow as if to say, Maybe, but do you really want to chance it?

“You—” A nearby shout interrupted her. Someone’s umbrella had lost its battle with the wind and flipped inside out. The umbrella wielder was soaked and, in an unfortunate coincidence, wearing all white.

Ayana eyed them with trepidation. “Fine,” she said. “You can drive me home, but only if you let me ask you three questions during the ride. You have to answer—truthfully.”

I almost smiled. No one else would’ve dared bargain with me so brazenly.

I’m doing you a favor, yet you’re the one making demands?

“Yep.” She gave an elegant shrug. “It makes no difference to me. If you don’t want to answer, I’ll just take my chances with the giant, rain-summoned rats.”

My almost smile morphed into an almost laugh.

I offered my jacket again in silent agreement. She took it, her mouth curving.

“What about you?” she asked. “If you duck, we’ll both fit under the jacket.”

The jacket wasn’t large enough to cover both of us.

It’s just water. I’ll be fine.

I led her away from the safety of the scaffolding and toward my office’s garage. I rarely drove in the city, but I’d taken my car that day in hopes of searching some of the garages myself after work. That would have to wait.

A passing bus trundled through a large puddle and sent a spray of water our way. I instinctively turned my body to shield her while she grabbed my arm with her free hand. I flinched, and she withdrew with haste.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to⁠—”

Don’t worry about it. I picked up my pace, my heart pounding, but even the rain couldn’t wash away the impression of her touch.

We reached my car without further incident. I unlocked the doors, and Ayana lowered the jacket from her head as she slid into the passenger seat.

I turned on the seat warmers while she took in the all-black Italian leather, state-of-the-art dashboard, and custom details.

“Very Batman-esque,” she said.

Sounds like an insult.

“Only if you take it as one.” She sank deeper into her seat with a sigh. “You’re right. This is better than Uber.”

I’m always right.

“Always humble too,” she said dryly. She gave me her address, and I put it in the GPS for appearance’s sake. I already knew where she lived.

We rode in silence out of the garage and onto the street.

It was my first time being truly alone with Ayana since we were forced to share a hotel room three weeks ago. Even then, I could shut a door between us or escape to the gym.

Here, there was no reprieve. No doors, no passersby, no phone calls to distract us from each other’s presence.

There was only the scent of her perfume and the warm inquisitiveness of her stare.

It was an exquisite hell of my own making.

“First question,” Ayana said when we arrived at a red light. “What’s your family like? I told you about mine, but I don’t know anything about yours.”

Family.

Faint screams echoed in my ears. The smell of charred flesh crawled into my lungs, and my stomach heaved.

My knuckles whitened around the steering wheel as I forced the bile down. It was only after the wave of sickness passed that I released the wheel to answer.

There’s not much to tell. I had two parents and a brother. That’s it.

The patter of rain against glass filled the car.

“Had?” Ayana said softly.

Is that your second question?

I hated talking about my family. My parents died of natural causes—my mother of heart disease, my father of cancer—so it was easier to think about them. My brother, on the other hand…

The tattoo on my inner arm burned.

“No,” Ayana said. Even softer this time, almost tentative.

I relaxed my grip on the wheel. I hadn’t realized I’d clutched it again.

The light turned green, and we inched forward again. Traffic had slowed to a crawl thanks to the rain. What should’ve been a twenty-minute ride was turning into forty minutes.

My staff was probably wondering where the hell I was, but one of the perks of being the boss was not having to answer questions.

Unless, apparently, they came from Ayana.

She appeared deep in thought until we reached another red light. “Okay, second question. And it’s not about your family, I promise.” She cleared her throat. “Are you dating anyone?”

My gaze flew to her face. She appeared composed, but I detected a trace of nerves as she shifted beneath my scrutiny.

Define dating.

“You’re in your thirties, and you need me to define dating for you? Classic guy move.”

I didn’t take the bait. I simply sat and waited.

After a minute, she sighed and clarified. “I mean, is there someone you’re involved with romantically on a regular basis?”

Define involved.

Ayana scowled. “You know what I mean.”

I don’t.Are you asking about dinner dates, Ayana, or are you asking about fucking?

Her sharp intake of breath made my mouth curve.

I shouldn’t have taken as much pleasure in her discomfort as I did. But she was the one who started this, and perhaps I wanted her to feel what I felt when I was near her—unbearable, agonizing tension, the type that condensed the world into a bubble around us and made it hard to even fucking breathe.

Ayana swallowed. She shifted again, the subtle clench of her thighs belying her even tone. “Both.”

I made her wait.

It was only after the light turned green and a cacophony of honks erupted behind us that I turned away with a simple answer.

No.

I had my needs, but they paled next to my disdain for the insipid song and dance of modern dating. The women who threw themselves at me did so for money and power, and I had zero desire to watch them not-so-discreetly swallow their revulsion in hopes of becoming a billionaire’s wife.

Even if a genuine, suitable interest came along, it didn’t matter.

I only wanted one person, and they weren’t her.

Ayana fiddled with the jacket in her lap. She didn’t say another word until we arrived at her building half an hour later.

“You never give a direct answer,” she said. “It’s not so hard just to say ‘no, I’m not dating anyone,’ is it?”

You seem to have a strange fascination with my love life.

I didn’t allow myself to examine the reason why. That wouldn’t lead to anything good for either of us.

“It’s not fascination, it’s curiosity. They’re different,” she said with remarkable dignity. “I only ask because there’s zero information about your personal life online, and Jordan barely tells me anything.”

My mood darkened at the sound of his name.

I wanted to lean over and crush my mouth against hers until she didn’t remember her own name, much less his.

I wanted to wrap her legs around my waist and make her scream for me and only me.

I wanted a lot of things I couldn’t have, so I settled for mocking indifference instead.

Do you spend a lot of time researching me online?

“Only when I’m bored. I also spend a lot of time researching knitting patterns and watching cat videos, so don’t feel too special. You’re less interesting than both those things.”

It happened so suddenly I hardly noticed it until the sound left my throat. A rumble of laughter—mine.

My first genuine laugh in possibly years.

The shock of it immobilized me for a moment. I never lost control like that, and Ayana’s response hadn’t been the funniest or the most surprising. However, it was so adorably spiteful I couldn’t help but give in.

The delight that lit Ayana’s face made me wish I was the type of man who laughed easily, if only so I could see her smile more often.

A knock interrupted our moment of camaraderie. The doorman must’ve grown tired of us idling outside her building.

My amusement died.

Ayana rolled down the window. “Hi, Bernard. Can you give us an extra minute please? I’ll be out soon.”

“Ms. Kidane, I’m afraid…” He faltered when I glared at him behind her back. “One minute. Of course.”

He retreated, and Ayana faced me once more. “Thank you again for the ride and the jacket.”

You’re welcome.

I expected her to leave right away, but she lingered, crossing and uncrossing her legs again like she was silently debating something.

Few things surprised me anymore. I was trained to expect the unexpected, and yet, nothing could’ve prepared me for the next words out of her mouth.

“Do you want to come upstairs to my apartment?”