He’d been a boy back then, unsure and terrified of what the future held.
Now, he was the owner of a multimillion-dollar business empire. His dreams had become reality, and most of the time, that was enough. When Blake was at an opening, or on the floor greeting customers, or coming up with ideas to make Legends bigger and better than it already was, adrenaline rushed through him, and he felt like he was on top of the world.
But sometimes, when he returned to his soulless hotel room at night or woke up next to a woman he’d never see again in the morning, a hole opened up in his stomach and sucked all his emotions out until he was nothing but an empty shell.
Still, anything was better than being back in Austin.
Screeching tires. Twisted metal. Blood. So much blood.
A familiar wave of darkness crested within Blake’s chest, threatening to drown him. He gritted his teeth and forced the darkness back into the box where he kept all his demons, safe from prying eyes—including his own.
There, the demons lurked—plotting, scheming, scratching at the inside of the box with their gnarled, poison-tipped nails. Sooner or later, they’d break free, and Blake could only hope he’d be alone when it happened. He didn’t need to drag anyone else into the abyss with him.
“We’ve come a long way.” Landon raised his beer. “From Texas to New York. What a ride.”
“True.” Blake pushed his turbulent thoughts aside and slapped a smile on his face. “But it ain’t over yet.”
“Not even close.”
They clinked bottles.
Blake kicked the box of demons deeper into the recesses of his mind. One day, they’d break free. But not today.
Today, he was going to stop dwelling on the past. That chapter of his life was over.
It was time for a new one to begin.
Chapter Three
Farrah sent out eighty resumes in one week.
The number of responses she received? Zero.
Of course, it was early. The job market in New York was brutal; it could be weeks or months before she heard back.
That was the ugly truth and not one she was keen on sharing with her mom, which was why Farrah ended their weekly call with guilt twisting her gut.
It’s for the best.
Cheryl Lau was all about stability, and she would freak out if she found out her daughter had quit a safe job with nothing lined up.
“Here.” Her roommate and best friend Olivia Tang pushed a large milk tea across the counter. “This’ll make you feel better.”
“Thanks,” Farrah muttered. She sucked on the sugar-laden drink and tried not to think about what a huge, horrible mistake she’d made. She’d felt so empowered, quitting on the spot, and had been gratified to see how hard Jane tried to get her to stay. Jane had even called Kelly, who’d decamped to the Hamptons until Labor Day. Kelly, true to form, had been furious and made it clear she thought Farrah was a selfish, ungrateful brat who’d be photocopying construction documents at a low-rent studio had it not been for KBI.
Needless to say, she hadn’t incentivized Farrah to stay.
But now, Farrah was having serious doubts about the wisdom of her move. Yes, she had a few months’ worth of rent saved up, but New York was one of the most expensive cities in the world. Even if she cut out all non-essential spending, the living expenses would eat into her rent savings until she only had a one- or two-month safety net.
“It’s only been a week, and you’re so talented. You’ll find a job in no time.” Olivia radiated confidence. “Don’t stress, babe.”
“You’re right.” Farrah’s resume blinked at her from her open laptop.
3.9 GPA from California Coast University. NIDA competition winner. Three top-tier internships. Three years of increasing job responsibilities at Kelly Burke Interiors, where she’d worked on several high-profile hospitality projects, including Z Hotels.
She was a catch. If only she could get someone to take the bait…
“You’re right,” she repeated. “I’m being silly. I just need to be patient.”
“Exactly. Now, since you have plenty of free time, how about going on a date with Ken?” Olivia wiggled her eyebrows.
Farrah groaned. Olivia had been pestering her to go out with her coworker for months.
“You know I hate blind dates.”
“I do, but I also know you haven’t had sex in…hmm, how long has it been again?” Olivia tapped her chin.
Farrah glared at her. She hadn’t had sex in a year, and they both knew it. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. She’d just been so busy with work, and dating in New York was freakin’ hard. It had been a long time since she’d found a guy attractive and non-douchey enough to want to sleep with him.
If she were being honest, the last guy she’d really been attracted to had been—
No. Don’t go there.
Farrah swallowed the lump in her throat and twisted her necklace around her finger, shoving aside thoughts of blond hair and devilish blue eyes. The pain in her chest wasn’t as great as it used to be, but it was still there, a lingering reminder of the boy she’d never been able to forget.
Perhaps that was why Farrah had such high standards. She’d experienced what explosive chemistry felt like, and everything else paled in comparison.
“Oh, that’s right. A year.” Olivia snapped her fingers. “Twelve months of no action, and no, your battery-operated friend doesn’t count. If you don’t break your dry spell soon, you’ll explode into a million pieces of lost orgasms, which is not okay. I just deep-cleaned the apartment.”
“You deep clean the apartment every week.”
They had a clear breakdown of house duties—Olivia cleaned and handled the bills (two of her greatest joys in life were the scent of Lysol and a zero-dollar payment balance), while Farrah handled home supplies and grocery shopping.
“Exactly.”
A sigh escaped Farrah’s lips. “Fine. Set me up.”
She was going to regret this, but once Olivia got an idea in her head, she was like a pit bull with a bone.
Besides, maybe it was time for her to be more proactive. She couldn’t experience explosive chemistry if she didn’t look for it, right?
“Yay!” Olivia tossed her empty container of boba in the trash and clapped in excitement. “I can’t wait. It’s about time your vagina got some love.”
Farrah’s drink went down the wrong pipe, and she coughed for a full minute before gasping, “Leave my vagina alone.”
“Honey, everyone has left your vagina alone for the past year. Your fault, by the way.”
“You’re fired as my best friend.”
“Not accepted,” Olivia said cheerfully. “I’ve never been fired in my life, and today is not the day to break that trend.”
This is what I get for living with my best friend.
She and Olivia had shared the same tiny apartment in Chelsea since they’d moved to New York after college. It was ridiculously expensive considering how small it was, but you couldn’t beat the location. Plus, it had one feature any New Yorker would kill for: an in-unit washer and dryer.
Olivia, who was a year older than Farrah, had lived here for ten months with a rocker chick she’d detested before said chick fled to Brooklyn and Farrah moved in. They’d been close in Shanghai, but they’d developed an unbreakable friendship over the past few years. Most of Farrah’s college friends stayed in California, and though she’d kept in touch with them, they weren’t as close anymore. Olivia was her ride or die, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.