I pulled my phone from my bag and sent a text message to Kelly.

  ME: Heading to the airport. See you in San Fran in four to six weeks.

  Her response was immediate.

  KELLY: Be safe! Make sure your brother is okay with me joining you there.

  I sighed and stared at my brother’s name on my contact list again. Today it was: Big Brother (Just Get It Over With!)

  I still couldn’t do it. I needed to wait a few more minutes.

  Instead of making the call, I scrolled through all my contacts and deleted every associate I’d made in this city.

  By the time I was done, there were only five contacts left in my phone: Rockville Prison (Dad), a twenty-four-hour hotline for “Girls Who Grew Up without Their Mothers,” my brother, Kelly, and “My Chum.” The latter was a number I hadn’t called in years, but my heart ached at the thought of ever deleting it.

  “Which airline are you taking, Miss?” The cab driver’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror as we approached the airport.

  “None. Can you take me to the private terminal, please?”

  “Right.” He laughed, nearly snorting. “I couldn’t drop you off there if I wanted to, sweetheart. I’d need an exclusive access pass with the name of the private plane’s owner and ID number. We’re both big dreamers, I see.”

  “I have an access pass.” I pulled out the silver card my brother had given me years ago and handed it to him. “Private terminal, please.”

  As he glanced at the name on the card, his eyes widened. He sat up a bit straighter in his seat and cleared his throat. “Right away, Miss.”

  He proudly handed my access card to the security team when we arrived at the tower that stood in front of the private terminal. Then he steered his cab to the sleek, black glass building at the end of the access road.

  Without saying a word, he helped me out of the car and took my suitcases out of the trunk. I didn’t mention the fact that he didn’t help me at all when I first hailed his cab.

  I handed him the last of my money—a single, twenty-dollar bill, and he smiled before rushing back to his car.

  Stepping inside the private terminal, I rolled my luggage to the lone seating area and pulled out my phone. I took a deep breath and finally called Jonathan.

  “Yes, Hayley?” he answered on the first ring, as usual.

  “Hey, Jonathan. How are you?”

  “Decent. Did you receive the latest sPhone prototype in the mail last month?”

  “I did.”

  “Well, what did you think of it?”

  Nothing, I had to pawn it ... “Well, it was great, but—” I couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth. "I dropped it the first day, and it broke."

  “I knew the glass on that one was too goddamn thin,” he said. “I’ll send you another one after we fix some other issues.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  “I’m sure.” There was a smile in his voice. “I’m not used to you calling me first these days. Is something wrong?”

  Everything is wrong. “No.”

  “You just called to randomly ask how I was doing?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Hmmm.”

  An awkward silence stretched over the line, and I knew the longer it took me to get the words out, the more concerned he would be.

  “Wait,” I said. “I called because I need to ask you something important.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Does your confidante, Greg, still fly down to Seattle at the end of every month for a weekend getaway?”

  “Yes, he does. He insists on it since he claims I’m a demanding boss. Why?”

  “Well, um,” I said, my voice cracking. “I was wondering if I could fly back with him today and live in San Fran with you for a while to get back on my feet.”

  “Come again?” The light tone of his voice was gone. “What did you just say?”

  “I asked you if I could fly to San Fran, to stay.” I wiped away tears as they fell. “I need to leave Seattle and start over.”

  “Since when do you live in Seattle, Hayley? Last time we talked, which was weeks ago, you were living in Memphis. You’ve been there since you supposedly hate the West Coast.”

  “I guess I didn’t hate it that much.” My voice was a whisper.

  “You told me you were finishing your master’s in business while looking into specialty schools,” he said, his voice tight.

  “Is that part true?”

  “No.”

  “So, I’ll assume you transferred schools behind my back. If you move here, will you still have all your course credits?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Well, why not?”

  “Because I dropped out of business school over a year ago.”

  “What?” He sucked in a breath. “When the hell were you going to tell me this? And where the hell has the thousands in tuition money been going all this goddamn time?”

  “Jonathan, please.” I swallowed. “Can we not do this today? I promise I’ll tell you everything, but right now I’m asking for your help, not your judgment.”

  He let out a long sigh. “How long will it take you to get to the airport?”

  “I’m already here.”

  “Are you in the private terminal?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine.” The sound of papers shuffling in the background came over the line. "Greg probably won't arrive at the terminal until later tonight, but you don't have to wait for him. Head over to the window bay, and I'll make a call so that you can fly out now."

  “I take it you’ll be waiting for me when I arrive?”

  “Luckily for you, I won’t be,” he said. “I’m on a working vacation with my girlfriend this week, and I think I need a few days to calm down after hearing this shit. I’ll have a driver there to meet you, though.” He paused. “You’re not in any financial trouble, are you?”

  “Not anymore.” I wiped away more tears. “I just need to find where I belong all over again. My business partner, Kelly, will need to come along, too. She’ll be coming to San Fran to join me in a month or so. If you could, can you help her, too?”

  “I can.”

  “Thank you, Jonathan.”

  “Don’t thank me until I’ve seen you in person and gotten the whole damn story. Are there any other random ass requests or last-minute lies you want to clear up?”

  I let out a breath. “You’re mad at me?”

  “No, I’m far from mad at you, Hayley. I’m fucking livid.” He paused. “But I still love you. You should’ve told me about this a long time ago, though. You know I don’t appreciate secrets.”

  “I know. I love you.”

  “Love you more. Call me when you land.”

  He waited for me to end the call, and I walked over to the window bay as he instructed. Before I could make it all the way there, a man in a navy-blue suit appeared and grabbed the handle of my suitcase.

  “Miss Statham, I'm Nathaniel Matthews,” he said. "I'm going to be your pilot today. Should we take off now, or are we waiting for someone else?"

  “It’s just me.”

  “Great. Follow me, please.” He smiled and led me outside.

  The second I stepped onto the tarmac, a man in a black suit rushed over to me with an umbrella and held it over my head. He matched me step for step as we walked across the wet road, all the way up the private jet’s silver staircase.

  I settled into the first seat, tracing my fingers along the cursive “Statham” that was etched into the wooden hand-rest.

  “Hello, Miss Statham.” A flight attendant set a bowl of strawberries in front of me. “I’ll be here and at your service whenever you need me.”

  “Thank you.” I wiped away another tear and leaned back, waiting for this chapter of my life to reach its last page.

  As the pilot called to the control tower for permission to take off, my phone buzzed in my pocket. An email from Jonathan.

  SUBJECT: COMING HOME.

  Hayley,

  I think it’ll be good to have you home with me. I’ve booked a suite at the Four Seasons for you this week, and I’ll have a permanent residence set up for you and your friend by next week.

  I won’t ask any questions at this moment, but I will need complete and utter honesty from you when I do. Are we clear?

  Also, since you’ll be in town this week, I need you to go to an art auction party for me and bid on a few paintings. I’ll send details in a couple of hours.

  Love,

  Jonathan

  PS—Corey is still in San Fran. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you again.

  COREY?

  My eyes focused on the last line of his email as the plane ascended into the sky, and my heart beat a traitorous rhythm I hadn’t felt in years. Corey being in San Francisco changed everything about this new arrangement, and I knew I needed to try like hell to avoid him for as long as possible.

  COREY: TODAY

  (Present Day)

  San Francisco, California

  I WAS BEGINNING TO hate everything I once loved about this city. It was still the opposite of New York’s crowded streets and over-hyped skyline, the perfect alternative to Silicon Valley’s illusion of a stress-free oasis, and the one place where anyone with a dream and the slightest bit of technology know-how could build a start-up company with ease.

  But over the past few years, San Francisco had become stagnant. The new people stopped arriving, and every place I ventured was full of people I’d already met. Women I’d slept with before, parties I’d thrown before, business partners I’d dealt with before.

  The fog that crept over the Golden Gate Bridge every morning was no longer something I admired for more than a few seconds at a time. It was the usual, same old shit, and it was creating a numbing effect on me.

  I had a string of ex-girlfriends I’d never loved and always lost, an even longer string of women I’d left in hotel rooms after unfulfilling nights, and I was constantly fighting an unfortunate truth that I didn’t want to face. Despite all the trappings of success and the reputation I’d built for myself, my life was still empty as hell and the things I’d attempted to fill it with only deepened the void.

  And now, as I stood on the roof of The Roosevelt Hotel at another art deco party, I looked around and realized that every single person here was either a gold-digging opportunist, a member of the city's elite, or someone I had no interest in talking to again. I was more than certain this night was going to end just like every other night I'd had for the past six months. With me asking myself, "Why the fuck am I still here?"

  “Corey Walters!” A brunette I vaguely remembered walked up to me. “How are you doing tonight?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, not remembering her name and not wanting to hold a conversation. “Hope you are, too.”

  "I'm amazing! Are you still working in Statham Industries as Chief of Cyber-Security, or have you started your own company?"

  “Both.”

  “Well, when you branch out, will you be opening your new building for a tour? I can have my news team cover your grand opening if you like.”

  “Do you honestly think it’s in a security company’s best interest to let the media have a tour of the facilities?”

  “No,” she said, smiling. “But I think it’s in your best interest if we pick up where we left off last time. We never got a chance to finish our night at The Hilton last year, remember?”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I remembered who this woman was now.

  Her name was Raina, and if our last encounter were any indication, my night would end better if I jumped off this roof instead of continuing this conversation.

  “Are you seeing anyone these days?” she asked.

  Come up with an excuse and walk the hell away. "Not at the moment."

  “Oh, well that's so sad," she said. "You're too sexy to be alone, you know?"

  I stared at her.

  "This is the part where you ask me if I'm currently available." She smiled.

  "No, this is the part where I can guarantee that you are."

  "Funny." She laughed and leaned close. “I can go home with you tonight, and we can reconnect if you’d like.”

  “I wouldn’t, so we won’t.”

  “Okay, look.” She smiled. “I know I might’ve scared you off with my list of turn-ons last time, but I can do regular sex until you’re ready to try things my way.” She winked. “You’d be surprised how many men enjoy hot wax poured slowly onto their cocks before and after sex. It’s good, I promise. And between you and me, I've only burned three guys out of the five times I've done it.”

  Okay, fuck this. “Excuse me for one minute, Raina. I’ll be right back.” I walked away, slipping into the crowd and looking for the host. It was long past time for me to go.

  "Austin?" I tapped him on his shoulder, and he spun around. As usual, he looked me up and down, assessing to see if his suit was more expensive than mine (it wasn't), and then he extended his hand for a handshake and pretended as if his comparison stare never happened.

  “Mr. Walters!” He smiled. “You told me you weren’t sure if you were coming to my party.”

  “Next time, I’ll trust my first instincts.”

  “Funny.” He crossed his arms. “Well, even though I hate everything about the way you do business—you know, secretly stalking, cheating, and hacking your way to the top, I’m glad that you’re able to put your hatred of me to the side and be social from time to time.”

  “I’ve never hated you, Austin,” I said.

  “You should. I’m your top competition.”

  “No, you think you’re my top competition.” I grabbed a beer from a waiter’s tray. “No one in this city is on my level, and we both know that.”

  "Is that so?" He smirked and pulled out his phone. "Then I take it you haven't tried to hack into my system tonight like you usually do to land a painting fraudulently."

  “It’s not fraud if I pay for it.”

  “You know what I mean.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “You knock out the top bidders every year just to be an ass.”

  “Or because I want the paintings.”

  "Whatever." He tapped his fingers against his screen. "I set up a new system months ago, and I bet even you won’t be able to get through it.”

  “I got through it an hour ago.” I sipped my beer. “It was an improvement from last year, though. Your people can send my paintings to my same address or have them ready for me when I check out of this hotel tomorrow morning.”

  “You got through? But I ...” His face turned red, and I watched him struggle to find his next words. "You know, you're more of a hacker than a cybersecurity guru. I know the real truth about you."

  "I know the real truth about you, too,” I said. "I've seen your sealed case records. It must've been nice having a rich father who could get you out of pretty much anything."

  His face paled. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

  "I don't?"

  "That's what I said." He swallowed. "No idea."

  "It's okay, Austin." I shrugged. "I'm sure no one else here knows about that out of control frat party you attended during your junior year of college. You know, the one where you 'accidentally' assaulted a half-drunk woman while she was dozing off in the bathroom, I'm sure no one would think that your annual, No Violence Against Women Art Auction is just a way for you to sleep better at night."

  He slammed his glass onto a table and walked away.

  If tonight were any other night, I would've laughed at his snarky "real truth" comment, but these days, I was beginning to feel like his words were true. I spent more time hacking into systems than building them, and after constructing the ones I intended to sell through my new company within a matter of days, I was in desperate need of a challenge.

  I headed toward the door to leave, stopping dead in my tracks when I caught sight of a sexy woman in a tight purple dress on the other side of the roof. She was making every man around her do a complete double-take.

  From behind, the skintight dress was hugging her curves in all the right places, and her blond hair was pinned up into a bevy of loose curls.

  Accepting a drink, she shook the hand of a man in a grey suit and smiled. Then she stumbled forward a bit in her stiletto heels and gripped the railing.

  Laughing, she tilted her head back and slowly turned to the side, revealing a pair of pouty red lips and a set of familiar light blue and grey irises.

  Hayley?

  I dropped my beer to the ground in utter disbelief. I looked her up and down again as her raspy laughter floated over the cool night air.

  It was definitely Hayley. As in my best friend’s little sister, Hayley. And she looked nothing like the girl I once knew. Nothing like the girl with bushy eyebrows who climbed through my bedroom window to find her brother and ask me one too many questions.

  The only thing recognizable about this version of Hayley were the small scars that remained on her arms from her childhood years, but someone would have to squint to notice them.

  I leaned back against the railing and watched as she continued to charm the circle of people around her, as the men studied her every move and slipped their business cards into her purse.

  Her eyes suddenly met mine, and she blinked a few times. Then she smiled and left the grey suit in mid-conversation, walking right over to me.

  “Hey, Corey!”

  “Hello, Hayley,” I said.

  She didn't say anything in return. She just looked me up and down in a lust-filled gaze, unless I'd had one too many beers and was just imagining this.

  “What are you doing here?" I cleared my throat. "Where's Jonathan?"

  "He took Claire to the Virgin Islands for the week, so I'm here to put in bids for him. I don't know why he even bothers bidding, though. He told me that they always let him see the work days before and allow him to buy whatever he wants."

  "Very true." I laughed. "Where are your girlfriends?"

  "Plural girlfriends?" She gave me a faint smile. "You and I both know I never had too much luck with those."

  I did know that, and I felt like shit for even asking her, so I stuck to the safe questions. I asked about her former love for all things hot chocolate and coffee, and I failed to acknowledge the fact that she was still giving me looks with her sexy blue eyes.