“My list of revenge, of course. Just imagine me with a round belly and a fluffy white beard. I have one book for good kids and one for the bad. Guess which one you made the top ten in.”

  Her phone chimes. While she digs it out of her handbag, I observe closely the way her fingers gracefully swipe across the screen, the way her expression changes from amused to concerned? Distressed? The way her fingers wrap around the phone, squeezing it with annoyance? Anger? Seems like someone just received some bad news. We pass a subway station and keep walking aimlessly along the abandoned riverside.

  “You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?” she asks, switching the topic again.

  “Technically,” I answer. “I only ever worked as a lawyer for a few years. Haven’t practiced in a while.”

  “Is that because you sucked?”

  “Is that relevant information for your list-making or are you trying to get to know me… babe?”

  Babe. Babe. Babe.

  It’s burned into my mind.

  She lets out a huff, rolls her eyes and ignores the pet name entirely. “I already know everything I need to know. I’m just trying to make you understand.” Sienna stuffs the phone back into her pocket. “Why did you become a lawyer? Didn’t you want to channel your own righteousness so it wouldn’t be as misguided? Didn’t you dream of helping people? Back when you were still an optimistic, slightly naïve baby lawyer who hadn’t yet sold his soul?”

  “It’s just what I had to do to take over the family business,” I lie. “My brother studied business. I studied the law. It was our father’s wish so that we could run the company together one day.”

  This much is true, but I omit the fact that I did insist on being the one to study law and that I did specialize to be a public defender.

  “And? How is that going?”

  Right. She’s right. I shouldn’t be out here wasting time by having fun and getting to know her. There was a reason I lured her here in the first place. Well, two reasons:

  1. Make her regret ever meeting me.

  2. Use her as a prop to appease my board.

  “Alright, Miss de la Vega,” I steer us towards a more trafficked street, “let’s talk business.”

  “And here I was thinking you had already given up on the whole wine me, dine me… hire and sign me for your evil corporation thing.”

  I hold in for a second. “Not how I thought that sentence would end, but, like I said, I always get what I want. This will be no different.”

  Her head swivels around slowly, those eyes of hers piercing into my supposedly non-existent soul. “Why do you want me?”

  The question hangs heavy in the air and I can’t help but think of when I first discovered her at the airport. She had watched me in that store and when I clocked her, she had hidden behind a shelf, except half her hair was still showing above it. Then she had followed me into that bathroom where… I don’t even know what had happened there. Something had just come over us. It was like we didn’t have a choice. We just had to do it. It was inevitable.

  I’ve had meaningless one-night-stands before, but they certainly didn’t feel like this. Not at all. This had been something else entirely.

  Our eyes meet, and a spark of recognition passes between us. Or so I think.

  “What does it take for you to come and work for me? I will grant you almost anything.”

  And then I’ll make you pay for it over and over and over again.

  Sienna huffs as if she isn’t taking me seriously. “Almost anything?”

  “Anything, except for me, of course. I’m off-limits.”

  “Hah!” she yelps out loud. “The cockiness! You’re lucky you’re so⁠—”

  “Handsome? Adorable? Funny?”

  Sienna laughs so loud the pigeons next to us get scared and fly off. The way her laughter echoes and her face scrunches makes her look like the most bewitching thing I’ve ever seen. Despite the cold wind, I feel hot. Even my cheeks are blushing a little. I put both my hands in the pockets of my pants to hide what else she is doing to me. It’s like common sense automatically goes out the window and my libido takes over as soon as I am near her.

  “Funny,” she finally manages to say. “You’re funny, indeed. You should be one of those Sunday morning talk show hosts. I bet the 65+ crowd would find you quite entertaining.” She laughs some more. When she calms back down, she continues, “But really, I meant rich. You’re lucky you’re rich. This way, at least you can buy people’s sympathies.” She takes another look at her phone, then shoves it back into her bag before grumbling with annoyance. Sienna stops dead in her tracks. “I won’t come and work for you,” she shudders as if overwhelmed with disgust, “but I will consider allowing you to be my client. It’ll cost you, though.”

  Before I can answer, she turns around and briskly walks off.

  “You can’t just leave,” I shout after her. “It’s not safe at night for someone as frail as you.”

  Another huff escapes her button nose, the warm air steaming in the chilly night. “It’s fine. I’m probably safer with the local axe murderer than I am with you. You’ll hear from me… babe.”

  12

  SIENNA

  Babe…

  Why?

  Why would I even say that?

  Get a fucking grip, Sienna.

  And, yes, I would definitely be a lot safer with the local axe murderer because it’s highly unlikely I’d be tempted to make out with him as well.

  What is it with this jerk that my brain immediately goes into primal-mode when he’s around?

  When I take the stairs down into the subway, I can feel his eyes on me. Ryker’s, I mean, not the axe murderer’s. Or maybe I’m just getting paranoid. Being the curious, and apparently slightly masochistic, person I am, I turn around and see him leaning against a street lamp with his arms crossed. Not paranoid then. I take care not to trip and fall down the stairs because the last thing I need right now would be for him to resuscitate me.

  I’d like to think he followed me to make sure I’d get to the station safe, but he probably just did it because he knows it annoys me. He annoys me. I even annoy myself right now.

  While I wait for the subway, I get out my phone and look at Earnest’s message again:

  Shark didn’t bite. Dicky has announced separation from wife. Soft core porn with now former mistress already on social media.

  That certainly puts a damper on our Save-Robyn-Banks-Campaign. Figures that someone who has no qualms evicting old ladies, also has no qualms divorcing the mother of his children when it’s more convenient for him.

  That means plan A failed spectacularly, which leaves us high and dry, so taking Ryker on as my client makes sense, unfortunately. He was willing to pay me $5000 a week, and if I survive working for him for two or three weeks, I could probably pay off Robyn’s debt and then some. Like they say, sometimes when one door closes, you just have to open another one. Sure, that door might lead to a torture chamber, but if that’s what it takes to keep my friend from getting evicted, then so be it. What’s the worst he can do, anyway? If anything, he should be afraid of me!

  It’s okay, I’ve got a pla. Are you home right now? I need your help.

  Do you mean ‘plan’?

  Well, it’s not fully developed yet. More of a pla than a plan.

  Bring prune juice.

  Okay. I’ll be there in 40.

  After I get to his apartment, Earnest and I spend a couple of hours turning my pla into a plan over a glass of juice. Then we let the others know to meet us the next morning for another riveting stake-out get-together.

  Robyn isn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of getting up at 7 AM, but the next day she still looks as flawless as ever when she arrives (fashionably 10 minutes late) in an elegant, slightly over the top, faux fur coat and her red high heels to the parking lot. Guy, being his usual chipper self, was the first to meet me at the car, along with Paige, who was busy trying to commit suicide by reading the newspaper while walking down the stairs. Earnest had arrived shortly after with the keys to the van that he borrowed from Paul at reception.

  On our way, we make a quick stop at Olivia’s place to pick up the Chairman, and some breakfast at a bakery across the street, before we eventually reach our destination: the headquarters of Grayson Holdings. We park with a clear line of sight to the entrance.

  Today, instead of candy, Guy has brought an assortment of jams for the croissants that he bought earlier, and while everyone digs into their breakfast, I am busy chewing my nails. I wonder if I will survive working for him. I also wonder what Ryker is having for breakfast right now. If he even eats breakfast. Realistically, it’s probably not babies, but maybe he does have a personal chef who prepares the most intricate dishes which Ryker then throws into a blender so he can consume his nutrients while grouchily muttering something about efficiency. That’s probably what he’s doing up there on the top floor right now.

  “Does no one want to know what we’re doing here?” I ask, a little confused when my friends run out of obituaries to discuss.

  “Breakfast!” Guy exclaims with glee and ceremoniously raises his jam dipped pastry into the air. “Or as they say: the most important meal of the day.” He takes a bite and continues mumbling, “Though personally, I think it’s the most confusing meal of the day. I mean, do I crave eggs or pancakes? Bacon or sausage? Cereal or oatmeal? It’s like trying to solve the crossword puzzle before I even had my coffee.”

  Everyone nods in unison except for my cat, who is licking some cherry jam right out of a glass that is wedged between two bags.

  “And don’t even get me started on the whole breakfast for dinner crime you young people commit these days,” Guy takes off his sunglasses, while I stare out the window. “I mean, I get it. It’s rebellious, it’s exciting, it’s breaking all the rules, and breaking things is literally in the name ‘breakfast’, but let’s be frank here: who actually enjoys eating waffles at 6 PM? It just feels wrong, like I’m betraying my digestive system.”

  More silent nodding ensues with some acknowledging grunts and slurps.

  “Right,” I answer, not sure what to say to that. I just watch Guy dip his croissant into a yellow jar. When he bites into it, his face cycles through several expressions before settling on a not-so-bad-nod.

  “Guy, did you just dip your croissant in mustard?”

  “It’s surprisingly good,” he mumbles again with a grin and holds it out for me to try, which I politely decline.

  “Okay, anyway,” I begin. “Earnest and I have gathered you here because we have a new plan to save Robyn and hopefully Haven as a whole. Instead of blackmail, we are going to try it the legal way.”

  “But we already did that,” Paige interjects. “We don’t have the funds to afford a lawyer, much less a drawn-out legal battle with a multi-million-dollar company.”

  “Well, I might have a way,” I explain. “The only drawback is that it involves me selling myself to the devil.” Which will be fine, I tell myself. “We are here to gather information on said devil, my new boss. I want to know everything there is to know about him.”

  “When you say devil, you mean the guy you have a thing for, correct?” Robyn butts in and takes a sip from her steaming cup of coffee. “And when you say you want to know everything there is to know about him, it’s because you want to determine whether you want to carry his babies, yes? Is it the same guy you had amorous relations with at the wedding?”

  Goddamn it, Robyn. “First of all, I did not have relations with that man. Secondly, it’s nothing like that. He is hiring me as a PR consultant to fix his image and I want to know what kind of person he is so that I can properly do my job.”

  “So staking out the person whose image you’re supposed to fix is normal procedure for a PR consultant?” Robyn asks and raises both her eyebrows.

  Fine, maybe this is a bit unusual, but it is a good idea. All those scandals must come from somewhere, so finding out who I am really dealing with just makes sense. The biggest problem will be how to stop him from being such a soulless prick to prevent more bad press in the future.

  “Yes, very common, actually,” I answer deadpan.

  Robyn blows on her hot cup of coffee and nods, letting me know she knows I’m full of shit.

  “We’re in,” Earnest thankfully interrupts.

  “A car?” Guy asks, a little confused.

  Earnest shakes his head. “Ryker Grayson’s computer.”

  “Ryker Grayson?” Paige and Guy ask simultaneously and sit up straight. Looks like they are much better informed about the current gossip of D-list celebrities than I am. “What are we doing with Ryker Grayson’s computer?”

  “That’s my new boss,” I explain. “He wants me to come and work for him, so last night Earnest and I sent him a contract that defines the parameters of my employment. Except that PDF file included a computer virus thingy. Right, Earn?”

  Earnest grumbles. “Sure, let’s call it that.”

  Outside, the sun slowly rises, lifting the fog off us and revealing a strangely phallic looking skyscraper with two domes at the ground floor. It’s so pointy and erect, one might think it’s compensating for something on someone’s behalf. The locals call it The Cloud Tickler and given the thrusting spire that penetrates the fog above, I can see why. Once again, I wonder what Mr. Handsome With His Big Building is doing at the moment, until I notice everyone is still looking at me.

  “Right, so here’s the deal: As long as I work for Mr. Graysonofabitch⁠—”

  “Language!” Paige interjects.

  “As long as I work for that man, I get paid $5000 per week. If he signs the contract we sent him, that is. That money, minus my living expenses, will pay for your debt, Robyn, and legal fees. All the additional money I hopefully accumulate, until I inevitably get fired or murdered, will serve as an emergency fund for any future issues that might occur.”

  Robyn turns towards me and reaches for my hands. “You would do that for me?”

  “Well, duh, of course I would.” I nod.

  “You don’t know what that means to me, darling.” She kisses my hand and gives me a tight hug before sitting back down. “But I still have to ask: why you? Why does he want to commission you? I’d wager he could hire anyone, no? He could hire an entire fleet of consultants to clean up his image.”

  “Because I’m good at what I do?” I answer.

  “Oh, no. I would never doubt that for a second. It just seems a little strange, doesn’t it? Plus, $5000 is a hefty amount of money.” Robyn’s head tilts to the side, her eyes boring into me.

  “Fine! Fine, whatever. If you must know,” I exhale deeply, not only because I am slightly on edge but also because memories of luscious lips and stupid six-packs appear before my eyes, “it’s because I did have relations with that man. I stole his pants after we had sex in an airport bathroom, which lead to his arrest and him almost missing his best friend’s wedding. But when I say it like this, it sounds much worse than it actually was.”

  Silence spreads out in the small interior of the cramped van, until Robyn leans forward and extends her palm before Paige, who in response rolls her eyes, rummages through her handbag and puts a butterscotch in Robyn’s hand.

  “I don’t bet for money,” Paige explains as Robyn unwraps her prize. “But pray continue, spill the rest of the English breakfast!”

  “I mean, it’s a whole thing. I don’t really have time to get into it. Also, did you guys really have a bet going about whether I slept with someone at the wedding?”

  “We like to live vicariously through you, darling. And, I guess, Robyn, you’re right, she does seem a little different since she’s come back. But more importantly, is your lover as good looking as his pictures suggest?” Paige grabs the newspaper, displaying an article about Ryker being led away by the police in his boxer briefs.

  Naturally, he has a nice butt in that picture as well. Very unfair.

  Robyn answers on my behalf, “Absolutely. He must be.”

  “I’ve seen better,” I interject.

  “And is he really as rich as they say he is?” Guy chimes in as well.

  “Exceptionally rich,” Robyn answers.

  “But he only uses it for evil,” I add, and am promptly ignored by everyone else in the car.

  “Is he single?” Paige continues.

  “Pretty sure,” Earnest says while staring at his screen and whatever private information he has already found about Mr. Handsome With A Nice Butt Who Is Exceptionally Rich And Most Likely Single.

  “If he’s single, it’s because he scares everyone away with his off-putting personality,” I say.

  “Isn’t that why you’re single too?” Earnest betrays me without thinking about it twice.

  The conversation stops, and it’s quiet for a second before all four of them break out in laughter. I take a deep breath.

  This is why I should have worked alone.

  We spend the next couple of hours sifting through the information that our computer virus thingy has gotten us. We look through his (extremely boring) emails, his contacts, and his calendar to see if he has met or is going to meet any potentially shifty business partners, but we come up woefully short. His meetings probably do include shifty people, but all of them seem to run some legitimate company or another. Until we find one appointment that just says: Brotherhood.

  “That’s not what I think it is, is it?” Earnest’s head flinches back slightly.

  “Noooo,” I shake my head, “it can’t be. I mean, I could see him being an alien wearing a human meat sack to play with us before assimilation, but I don’t see him being part of a white supremacy group.”

  “Only one way to find out,” Robyn replies and slides open the door next to us. She turns around, gives me a wink and shuts it in my face before I can even react.

  “Does she have to keep doing this?” I ask by now more rhetorically than anything else.

  Paige and Guy just shrug their shoulders while the Chairman uses his chance to snuggle up in the leftover heat on Robyn’s seat.

  All four of us watch as she makes a beeline towards The Cloud Tickler. For a second, I hope she’s just going there to use the bathroom, but I know better. “Earnest can you⁠—”