Boxed Set: Traitorous Heart Volumes 1-6 (The Traitorous Heart Series) (2 page)

I took one of his cigars out of the box, clipped the edge, and joined him on the terrace. My dad handed me his lighter. I flicked it and held the fire against the edge, watching the smoke sail into the night.

After a few moments, I turned to my dad. “You have a deal.”

CHAPTER 3

Katie

I walke
d
the short distance from the bus stop to my brownstone and then took the three flights of stairs up to my apartment. I turned the lock and pushed the old door open. It had a tendency to stick. So sometimes it took a good kick to get it open.

“Birdy, I’m home.” I went to the fridge and pulled out a water bottle. 

“In my bedroom.”

I walked past our messy living room filled with mismatched throw pillows and half empty take-out boxes, down the hall, past the bathroom, and to Birdy’s bedroom. Her door was ajar. She wore only her birthday suit and was searching frantically through her closet. I avoided her naked ass and focused on the tattoo of a bluebird on her left shoulder.

“There aren’t too many places you can get away with that outfit.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe.

Birdy’s real name was Pamela Bird. I’d met her during our first semester at college. We became easy friends. Over time our friendship grew into a relationship so solid I considered her family. I would do anything for her and she would do anything for me.

We’d proved that to each other through the first four years of college and then during law school.

She wasn’t just smart, either. She was the epitome of what a model should look like: tall and thin, her hair naturally curly. She wore it short. Her eyes were hazel and her lashes were thick and long. The girl looked good with or without makeup.

Birdy laughed. “I can’t decide what to wear tonight. Nothing looks good.” She took a red dress from a hanger and slid it over her curvy body, then turned. “What do you think?”

“You look amazing.” I moved some clothes over and sat on her bed. “Where you going?”

“Party time at The Attic. You’re coming with, right?” She pulled off the red dress.

I covered my head with a pillow. “Jeez.”

She laughed. “You’re such a prude.”

“I’m not.” My voice was muffled. I didn’t prove my point by removing the pillow. I kept it in place. “Let me know when you’re decent.”

“Fine, but only if you agree to come out with me tonight.”

I rolled over, burying my face in the blankets. “I’ve had a crappy day. All I want is a bubble bath and cookies-and-cream ice cream. And not necessarily in that order.”

“Job hunting woes?” She sat on the bed, rubbing her fingers across my back.

I rolled over, moving the curtain of hair out of my eyes. She had on a white dress with small black polka dots. “No one is saying yes. Everyone is giving me the sad face and basically saying: don’t call us, we’ll call you.”

Birdy grabbed a pillow and tucked it into her lap. “Assholes.” She already had a job if she wanted it.

“Seriously.” I unbuttoned my navy suit jacket and yanked it off. Kicked my sensible pumps across the room. “I mean, what is it?” I stood and shimmied out of my pantyhose.

Birdy shook her head. “I don’t know, Katie. If you want I could have my dad make some calls. You know he said he would.”

It was true. I could do that. Birdy’s dad was
the
Jonathan Bird of Bird, Morgan, and Childress, the most prestigious law firm in New York. But I didn’t want a job that way. That was why I hadn’t applied at his firm. I wanted to get a job on my own merit, not because I was a friend of Jonathan Bird’s daughter.

“No, I’m not ready to play that card.” I slumped back onto the bed.

“Which is why I love you, but you know I won’t hold it against you. These days it’s more who you know, not what you know.” She snapped her fingers. “You know me, you know the law, and you’re going to be a kick ass lawyer.”

“Ugh.” I swallowed my tears, not my pride. I wasn’t ready for that. But no more crying. It wouldn’t solve anything.

“Shower. Put on something slutty and come out with me tonight.” Birdy slid on some red patent leather heels with tiny black bows on the heel.

“I don’t want to.” I was sulking.

“Yes, you do.” She went to her closet and grabbed a black mini skirt and a white and black halter. “Wear this.”

“Oh, no. Reid would never approve.”

She tossed the outfit and it landed on my head. “You think I give a shit what your fiancé thinks? Besides, isn’t he out of town for the weekend?”

I pulled the clothes off my head. “Yeah, some family thing or something,” I mumbled, enjoying the scent of Birdy’s clothes. They all smelled like blue jasmine. Reid had been vague, which had been happening more and more lately. It seemed the more I pressured him to have sex, the further he withdrew. We spent more time apart than together. Sometimes I wondered why he wanted to marry me.

Birdy picked up my shoes and pantyhose, then handed them to me. “You know how I feel about him. He isn’t quite right. Any man who doesn’t want to sleep with his fiancée, especially a girl who looks like you, is off his rocker.”

I smiled, a real genuine smile. “Thanks, Birdy. He says he just wants our wedding night to be special.”

She pulled me off her bed and pushed me toward the door. “Yeah, I know.” A strange look crossed her face, one I took to be her usual discontent with Reid. She didn’t like him. It was no secret. I’d tried for the last eight months to make them get along. It never worked. If anything, they hated each other more now than they had when I first started dating him.

“He’s under a lot of pressure. His dad expects him to take over the foreign side of the business for him next year. You need to cut him some slack.” Reid Geller was being groomed to run Geller Communications International’s overseas division. I knew it was the cause of a lot of anxiety on Reid’s part. He didn’t want the responsibility, but he didn’t see a way out of it.

“Whatever.” She walked to her closet, pulled off the polka dot dress, and threw it to the floor. “Hurry up. The limo will be here in an hour.”

CHAPTER 4

Katie

The Atti
c
started out as a dive bar located on the top floor of an old warehouse, then a couple of actors partied there, followed by the discovery of a famous band, and suddenly it became
the
club, the place to party on the weekends. Or, really, any day of the week.  It was large, boasting the finest drinks in New York. It also had a full kitchen staff that prepared amazing food.

Each Friday night was ladies night. Girls got in for half price, unless you were friends with Birdy, then you always got in free.

Everyone in New York knew Birdy. Sometimes it was surreal. Her picture would show up in the social section of the New York Times at least once a month, and every once in a while a paparazzo would take her picture and she’d end up in the pages of an entertainment magazine. Tourists would take her picture; even though they didn’t know her name, they recognized her face.

You’d think with all her connections and social status she’d be a bitch, but she wasn’t. She was one of the most generous people I’d ever known—and she wasn’t that way with just me. She was kind to everyone.

It was strange she’d turned out that way. Her dad was arrogant, rude, and had dealings with all sorts of shady people. Birdy’s mom had given her daughter all of the wrong kinds of attention, taking her for her first Botox “treatment” at the age of thirteen. Her mom believed she was too good to speak with anyone whose bank account was under seven figures. She and her friends played tennis, slept with the instructors, and went to lunch just to gossip about it. It was a life I didn’t understand. Neither did Birdy.

Maybe that was why she and I got along so well. We were the exact opposites of our upbringings.

Everywhere we went Birdy was showered with affection and attention. Like The Attic. Our booth was the best in the club, close enough to the bar that the waitresses never forgot us, yet far enough away that when there was a line for drinks we weren’t in the way.

During the week a DJ played remixes of the latest songs. On the weekends, the music was live. Sometimes the bands were amazing. Other times they sucked.

“Guy told me the band tonight is awesome.” Birdy sipped her Jack and Coke.

We were sitting next to each other, yet we still had to shout to be heard. “What’s their name?”

“Crushed Velvet,” Birdy said.

I took a drink of my vodka tonic. “Sounds like a seventies boy band.”

Birdy laughed. “They didn’t have boy bands in the seventies.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Sure they did. I can think of five off the top of my head. Their clothes were even similar to what’s popular now.”

The announcer cut off whatever Birdy was going to say.

“Please put your hands together for Crushed Velvet!”

Four guys walked on stage. One sat at the drums. Two picked up their guitars and one went to the keyboard. They wore the same basic attire: jeans and a white shirt. The drummer had on a tank. Both guitarists wore regular tee shirts. The keyboardist wore a crisp button down.

Girls rushed to the front of the stage. They were already screaming.

I looked at Birdy. She shrugged. From our booth we had a perfect view of the stage.

The drummer started playing, then the guitars came in. The music wasn’t bad. After a while I wondered if someone was going to sing. Had the lead singer forgotten when to come in? It was hard to tell which one was supposed to be singing.

After another eight count I glanced around the club. Everyone seemed to be waiting, perched on the edges of their seats. It made no sense.

Until he walked on stage.

If my panties could’ve dropped of their own volition, they would have.

“Oh. My. God,” Birdy said. I was right there with her.

He was shirtless, which was exactly how he should always remain. His body was perfection. Tattoos covered a lot of his body, including his left shoulder and down his arm to his elbow. Lust surged through my body. I wanted to trace each one of his tattoos with my tongue.

He looked tall. His brown hair came to just above his shoulders. His bangs kept falling in his eyes. His broad shoulders were muscled, his posture like a piano player’s, and his abs and chest… good God. They looked fake. Magnificent. At each hip were slight indentions, like arrows directing me to want what was beneath his jeans. Those were tattered and sat low, allowing visual access to another tattoo and the strip of hair that started just under his belly button and went… there. I shuddered at what was there. He was also barefoot.

He scanned the crowd and smiled. “How’s everybody doing tonight?”

The crowd cheered their response.

“This song is about fucking and how great it is.”

The crowd’s screams got louder.

“It’s called All In.” Then he started to sing.

My panties no longer needed to drop because they’d melted off. I’d never had such a physical reaction to a person before. But the way he held the microphone, the way his lips moved when he sang, the way he moved on the stage, like a tiger ready to pounce.

The next thirty minutes went by in a blur. The waitress brought fresh drinks. Birdy occasionally said something. I barely acknowledged her. When the band’s set was over I thought my heart would break.

“Shit, Katie. You’re smitten.” Birdy laughed.

I shook my head, trying to clear the lust coursing through my body. “He’s amazing.” The words came out before I had the chance to censor them.

“He’s hot, and I swear there’s a tattoo across his chest that says
fuck me, Birdy
.”

“No. You’ve got the name all wrong. It says Katie, not Birdy.”

She giggled.

I gulped down the rest of my drink and stood. “I’m going out for a smoke. Wanna come?”

“No.” She scrunched her nose in disgust. “Dude, that is so two thousand and ten. When are you going to give those things up?”

I shrugged. “It’s only when I drink. I’ll be back.” I pushed my way through the crowd, but it was slow going. Everyone was talking about the lead singer of Crushed Velvet. By the time I reached the exit for the smokers, I knew his name was Griffin Maxwell. He was ridiculously wealthy and a total player.

Figured
, I thought, glad to have discovered a chink in his rock god status.

I pushed open the doors and walked to the edge. The New York skyline was beautiful. I leaned against the solid concrete wall and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of my purse. Took one from the box, lit it, and inhaled deeply.

“Mind if I bum one of those?”

CHAPTER 5