Broken (New York Heirs #2) Page 7

  Or he might spend every evening at the seediest establishments in the city to drown himself in alcohol and parties and gambling, hoping that each new vice he pursued would be the one to finally take him.

  But without fail, every single damned time, he would wake up after the night of revelry sporting nothing more than a damned headache.

  He would try again the next night, and the next. Ten years of endless replays of memories like a broken reel, no end in sight, starting and ending with a girl with wild hair the color of fire and a laugh like the warm sun.

  Eventually, he would learn to get used to it.

  “You may have the luxury to feel bored,” Mrs Smith continued, “but the people who work for you have families to feed and bills to pay—”

  “And a thousand sob stories to bore me even further,” I snapped. “Am I not paying their salaries?”

  “For now,” she said ominously.

  “For fuck’s sake, Tabitha, we’re raking in the cash. The only thing that should concern you is how to count all that money.”

  “I know you built this company ground-up, Theo, but some days I can’t help worrying about your state of mind. It keeps me up all night, and I just keep thinking and thinking…”

  “Then for god’s sake, stop. I don’t have that problem; there’s no reason why you should.”

  Tabitha looked disapproving. “You don’t worry because you don’t care about anything.”

  Horseshit. There was one person I gave a damn about very much, and look where that had gotten us.

  Last week had been a mistake, that much was clear to me by now. I had spent years trying to put Karin out of my mind, and now the clock had been reset. She had crashed back into my life with the force of a freight train, leaving me just as wrecked.

  “I won’t let the firm fall,” I said curtly. “Not because I give a damn about any of you; I don’t. It’s a matter of pride and nothing more.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” Mrs Smith snarked.

  “Just another of my many virtues. Leave the report on my desk, I’ll take a look when I’m in the mood.” I snapped my fingers in the direction of the side table. “And hand me that bottle.”

  Mrs Smith ignored my command. “Won’t you tell me about the past? Something happened that made you this way.”

  “I’ve always been a nightmare to deal with.”

  “You got worse since.” Mrs Smith placed the folder on my desk, not meeting my eyes. “It’s a sickness, Theo, and you need help.”

  “I’ve got my medicine right here.” I retrieved the bottle myself, lifting it in a salute before I swigged from it.

  “If you keep living like this, I’m going to resign,” she said quietly. “I refuse to be a part of your plan to self-destruct.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “An ultimatum.”

  I nodded once. “I see. Well then, kindly fuck off and take your ultimatums with you.”

  Mrs Smith pressed her lips together in a thin white line. “I know you’re better than this.”

  “The last person who believed that was sorely mistaken, so I urge you not to do the same.” I drained the liquor in a single go and set the empty bottle down. “One last thing. I’ll need a ticket next month.”

  “Are we going back to Seattle? Oh, that’s wonderful, Samson is just starting to walk—”

  “Tabitha, I don’t give a damn about your leaky grandson. It's for me. A flight to London, and make it one-way.”

  Mrs Smith went still, the implication of that order dawning on her. “And the company, Mr Valentine? What’s going to happen to it?”

  “Everything will run as usual, but start looking for suitable buyers discreetly. No parties with a history of running things to the ground, or with excessive debt. I’ll also set aside a stipend for your retirement. You’ll find it more than sufficient, and if not, help yourself to the bank account.”

  “You’ve made up your mind to leave for good?”

  “I have.”

  I could tell my answer troubled Mrs Smith. She was hesitant, clearly worried about what my decision meant.

  Not even I knew that, but whatever the case, I wasn’t going to leave her penniless. Mrs Smith had been with me for the better part of my life. She was the closest thing to a relative I had, aside from Estelle.

  “Go home to your family, Mrs Smith,” I said gently. “You’ve earned it.”

  “I’ve known you since you were a youth. But if that’s your decision, I respect it.” She squared her shoulders. “I’ll take care of things for now.”

  “Thank you.” I headed out to the front door, eager to be somewhere that wasn’t quite so silent.

  “But Theo?”

  I turned back at Mrs Smith’s question. She wore an expression of regret and pity as she watched me.

  “If you keep going down this path,” she said quietly, “you’ll end up a very miserable man.”

  I returned with a wry smile as I swung on my coat and opened the front door.

  “Am I not there already?”

  ***

  The basement of the abandoned smelting factory still bore traces of burnt metal from the last century in its concrete walls. There was a party upstairs on the first floor, but down here it was a stone cavern, housing over a hundred people comfortably.

  Madison was an illegal entertainment club masquerading as something more. It was fortunate I didn't expect much from this place, because it was turning out to be a complete disappointment.

  It was the exact replica of every other underground club I'd been to in my two months here in New York. These places prided themselves on being establishments that hosted only the most powerful of the population, the most influential, the ones with the most money to burn.

  They never looked anything like it.

  This one in particular was designed like a regular strip club with the atmosphere to match. The air was choking with entitlement, thick with smoke from a hundred different cigars and blunts. Faces that graced the covers of prestigious business magazines by day were here in person, snorting lines of coke off the tits of hostesses as they discussed the fine art of money making.

  You’d think that man would want to live better if they had the option to. They didn’t. They turned into animals the first chance they got, and they liked it that way.

  I sat at one of the numerous card tables on the central floor, deep into my fifth poker game for the night. I wondered if this would be the moment I felt disgust at the way I was leading my life, but as usual, nothing came.

  This place might be a fucking zoo, but I was easily the worst of these animals. Nothing was too low or too vile for me. Not gaming. Not drugs. Not murder.

  Liam raised his glass at me, clinking the ice cubes inside. “What’s so funny, Valentine?”

  I took another glance at my cards before placing them face-down on the table. “The fact that I’m here with the lot of you.”

  The other four men at the table didn’t know if they should take that as a joke or an insult, so they smiled back in a pinched way.

  “You've got a losing hand,” Liam guessed. “It's written all over your ugly mug.”

  Liam Berling was chained to the poker table most nights and was easily the most skilled player here tonight, but he would get nothing out of me. I didn't even have to feign my boredom; this was utterly mind-numbing.

  I tapped my cigar and let the ashes fall to the carpeted floor. “You're welcome to up the stakes if you like.”

  “Done.” The blond Dane tossed out the remaining of his chips. “All in.”

  Two men folded. The rest matched the stakes. I added my chips to the pile.

  Contrary to what Berling thought, I held a winning hand, but even the imminent windfall gave me nothing more than mild interest.

  “What brings you to New York?” one of the men who folded slurred. “The pussy in Seattle not good enough for you?”

  Rob Dalton, successor to a mammoth shipping business, had a hostess pe
rched in his lap. His eyes were nearly black, the pupils dilated from the LSD the woman had dripped into his eyes minutes earlier. The guy was tripping balls and doing a piss-poor job of hiding it.

  I took another draw on my cigar before replying. “I'm here to clean up a mess.”

  Liam nodded slowly like he knew what I was talking about. “One of your clients? Must be a big contract for you to be stationed across the country for two months.”

  The dealer signaled the end of the final round, and I flicked my cards face up on the table. I had the strongest hand at the table.

  Cue the outraged reactions.

  “If you want to count cards, Valentine,” Picard sneered, “do it at a curb-side strip club.”

  I ground what was left of my cigar on the table, burning a hole in the green felt. “I would if you pricks hadn’t invited me here. I’m running out of excuses to flake.”

  Dalton simply shrugged at his loss, delving his hand between the thighs of the woman on his lap. “Hey, at least it’s for charity. That’s what I tell the wife.”

  I couldn't help a cynical smile. The rich did adore their charity. It gave them a hard-on to bestow their gifts upon the wretched poor and then crow about it to anyone who'd listen.

  “A nice sentiment, but unfortunately, this money will be leaving with me.” I got up and buttoned my jacket. “Cash those into my account.”

  The croupier obeyed without another word.

  “What the hell, man?” Liam stared at me in shock. “It’s a charity tournament. We’re raising money for troubled teens.”

  “Cut the bullshit, Berling. We all know the money’s going back into your father’s pockets.”

  Liam was speechless at my unexpected hostility, but I wasn’t in the mood to be friendly.

  “You want charity?” I plucked a few chips from my winnings pile and tossed them on the table. “Here’s my charity. Spend it wisely.”

  The guy beside Liam got up so fast his chair toppled back. He began hurling insults, spit spraying out his mouth, but his curses were nothing I hadn't heard a hundred times before. I never learned to play nice with the other kids, after all.

  I adjusted my cuffs before strolling off.

  It had been an uneventful night overall, but at least I hadn’t been waiting on Karin like a lovesick sod. She had evidently taken my advice to stay away, and with luck, we wouldn’t meet again. That was perfectly fine.

  A humorless laugh escaped me the moment that thought crossed my mind.

  Fine? Nothing had been fine for years. I was fucking haunted, a walking shell of a man.

  A sudden glimpse of bright color caught the corner of my eye, and I looked out of habit. But of course, it wasn’t Karin, just another woman with similarly-hued hair. Hers was pin-straight, not Karin’s wild waves. The color was paler and muted, not Karin’s blistering fire.

  The woman turned and caught me staring. She sauntered over, trailing her fingers across my chest.

  “Heya, big guy. Lucky night?”

  Her voice was low and sultry, not the lovely song-like quality of Karin’s.

  “Come with me and it will be for you.”

  “You’re very cocky,” she purred. “I like that.”

  She was attractive, and nothing compared to the woman who haunted me. Perhaps I’d fuck her from the back, tell her to keep her mouth shut and not make a sound. With the lights turned off, her hair might pass off as Karin’s and I might be able to pretend. God knew I’d been doing it for years.

  The woman leaned up to kiss me, and I obliged. Once more, she tasted nothing like the one I wanted.

  I broke away with a curse. It had taken me years to dull the edges of Karin's memory in my mind, but a single meeting with her had been enough to ruin me.

  “Everything okay?”

  “No,” I said bluntly. Nothing would be, not as long as I couldn't forget her.

  And so I took the woman who wasn't Karin into my arms and kissed her harder. She moaned and laced her arms around my neck, giving herself to me. I could see only Karin’s sunny smile at the forefront of my mind, the way her nose crinkled when she teased me. I gripped the woman’s face harder, trying desperately to force Karin out.

  No matter what it took, I would forget her. Just like I promised ten years ago.

  I yanked my blue knit scarf tighter about my neck, clomping my faux-leather boots through the icy sludge that was a sad brackish-brown under the street lamps.

  New York did not snow prettily in January, and the wind was howling in my ears even through my matching wool beanie. The wintry air blowing inland from the river was cold as heck, and my parka and jeans were doing nothing to block the wind. I was practically shivering body waves as I made my way through the deserted factory district in Brooklyn.

  Just an hour ago I had been nice and snug in Allie and Ryland’s penthouse, chatting over after-supper drinks when Ryland got a call from Gabriel. Theo had been spotted in the wharf district in Brooklyn.

  Ryland had wisely decided not to come; if someone like him were to be seen here, his stock prices would plummet.

  And so here I was—not that I had much of a choice. By going to Theo that night, I’d opened a can of worms.

  Now it was time to lie in it.

  The shadow of a massive brick building soon appeared at the end of the road, looking much like all the others I had passed on my way here. The only difference was the rows of luxury cars parked in the lot outside.

  That, and the fact that the building was lit up on the inside, with bass music pounding so loud I could hear it even from five blocks away.

  A party in an abandoned factory. I raised my eyebrows. Rich folks were weird.

  When I got close enough to the gates, I saw that they were manned by two guards on lookout, with several more patrolling the area outside. I felt sympathy for them all the way down to my frozen feet.

  Doubling over to avoid discovery, I snuck around to the back of the building and shimmied through a hole in the rusted fence.

  From there on, it was a piece of cake. The back entrance of the massive building was a single metal door that looked like it led to a torture chamber.

  I hurried over and slipped inside.

  It was like stumbling through a reverse Narnia portal, from an icy world into warmth. Humid air hit me like a solid wall, and the howling wind in my ears was replaced by loud club music.

  I made my way down the dimly lit passageway, which opened into a massive factory space that had been cleared and converted into a club. The sheer number of people packed into the place was insane. It reminded me of the parties Theo used to have back in San Juan multiplied by ten and sans the fighting.

  But as I ventured deeper into the place, I realized that that wasn't the only difference.

  The people here weren't dancing exuberantly like they would in a club. Instead, they were swaying in a strange way, moving like they were underwater.

  I frowned, puzzled.

  It looked as if they were...

  “Whoa!” I stumbled back when a huge guy bumped heavily into me. He wasn't holding any beer in his hands, but his face wore a vague, empty smile.

  “Sawry,” he slurred. His red-rimmed eyes were two vacant pools of black.

  I paled.

  This guy wasn't drunk. He was high as a kite, and so was everyone here.

  Looking around again, I spotted clusters of semi-conscious people sprawled over the expensive furniture at the sides of the dance floor.

  Some were snorting lines of powder off the boobs of half-naked girls. Others were grinding offbeat to the music, and some were just outright having sex. Everyone was smiling in that creepy, vacant way, like they were beautiful dolls instead of people.

  It was a scene straight from hell.

  Swallowing hard, I looked back towards the exit, tempted to run back home to warmth and safety.

  But I also needed to know if Theo was alright.

  Pulling my parka tighter about me, I elbowed my way through the
partiers on the dance floor, searching the sea of empty faces and hoping I wouldn’t find Theo in one of the orgies.

  My heart sank when I spotted him a moment later.

  Theo was at the edge of the dance floor, going at it with a redhead in the world’s tiniest mini dress like she was the last woman on earth.

  An ugly feeling crawled up my chest.

  This wasn’t as bad as an orgy, but it was pretty danged close.

  I made my way through the crowd, pushing past the people who parted for me without resistance. Theo and the woman didn’t even notice when I was right behind them.

  “Excuse me.”

  They didn’t hear me, still preoccupied with eating each other’s faces.

  I scowled and cleared my throat louder. “Ahem!”

  Theo froze, then slowly, he disentangled himself from the woman.

  “You,” he murmured, staring at me like I was an illusion he had conjured up. “You're here.” Then his spellbound gaze broke, giving way to fury. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  The redhead clutched Theo's arm and nestled it between her boobs. She looked me up and down like I was something the cat had dragged in. “Who are you?”

  “Karin. And you?”

  “Natalia,” she said snarkily. “We're a little busy here?”

  Theo stood by her side, watching me in a mix of anger and lust. I tried to ignore the fact that his attraction wasn’t for me.

  “Get out of here,” he gritted.

  My mouth fell open. “But I just got here!”

  Natalia smiled sweetly. “He's not interested, honey, learn to read the signs.”

  “I was talking to you, Natalia. You’re not needed now.”

  It was the redhead’s turn to look outraged. “What the fuck?”

  “You heard me.” Theo jerked his head in the direction of the crowd. “Move.”

  “You piece of shit!” Natalia flipped him off before storming away.

  To my relief, Theo’s furious gaze remained on me instead of her retreating ass.

  I folded my arms, taking the rare opportunity to be the grown-up between the two of us. “Is that your hobby now? Swapping spit with women you don’t know? Yeah, you didn’t know her name before this, I caught that.”