Authors: Lauren Layne
Mitchell knocked on the door of the address Colin had indicated and was relieved that it was Colin himself who opened the door and not the put-out prima donna.
He whistled as he stepped inside. From the outside, it had looked like an average brownstone, but inside, it definitely smelled like money. By New York standards, the place was huge, and everything from the hardwood floors to the modern thermostat on the wall screamed recent renovation.
“Family money,” Colin said by way of explanation. “Her mom is the maven of one of those massive cosmetic corporations or something.”
Mitchell couldn’t stop looking around. Surely that wasn’t a real Picasso. “Where is the little heiress?” he asked quietly.
“Primping,” Colin said with a jerk toward what Mitchell assumed was a bathroom. “She’ll be in there for hours. There’s an office space back this way where we can talk.”
Mitchell noticed Colin was doing something fidgety with his hands. He’d tap one fist against his palm and then switch and do the same thing on the other side. Over and over and over.
He’d seen Colin do that before when something big was going down on the exchange.
Colin was nervous about something. Either Mitchell’s phone call had scared the hell out of him or his girlfriend was even more of an uptight bitch than he was letting on.
The “office” was more of a nook with a sliding door, and there was a stack of magazines on the desk, with
Stiletto
on top. Mitchell smiled. It made him think of Julie.
“So what’s up?” Colin asked, folding his arms across his beefy chest and giving a plastic smile.
Mitchell’s instincts went on alert. Colin was seriously freaked out about something.
“The deal’s off,” he said quietly, grabbing a stapler off the desk and clicking it idly.
“I’m sorry?” Colin said, his eyes locked on Mitchell’s hand.
“The deal. With Julie, the Yankees tickets, the whole thing … done.”
Colin ran a hand over his short brown crew cut and gave a nervous laugh. “That’s it? Okay, then. Consider it over.”
Mitchell narrowed his eyes at Colin’s easy tone. “Let me be more clear. It never happened.”
Colin looked confused. “Wait, I don’t get the office? I thought that was part of the deal. I thought you were conceding.”
Mitchell swore. “Christ, I don’t care about the damned office. I just meant as far as Julie knows, this whole thing
never happened
.”
Colin held up two innocent hands. “Sure, man. I’ll never mention it again.” A flash of Colin’s old smugness resurfaced, and Mitchell felt oddly relieved.
“So you couldn’t do it, huh?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“Couldn’t fuck her and dump her. You had to make a thing out of it, just like you do with every woman who spreads her legs for you.”
Mitchell felt his face go hot, and he took a step toward Colin, feeling uncharacteristically violent. “It’s not like that.”
“Yeah?” Colin said, looking genuinely curious. “What’s it like?”
Mitchell shook his head in annoyance, not the least bit interested in spilling his guts to Colin.
And he certainly wasn’t about to let any of this hurt Julie.
The wounded creature he’d seen crying her eyes out last night would
definitely
be hurt if
she found out about this. Last night as he’d listened to her heartbroken sobs, he finally realized what made Julie Greene tick—what made her draw men to her like toddlers to candy and then dance away before they could see anything but her sweet outer coating.
Beneath all that confident, sassy flash was a lonely orphan whose parents had never come home. It was the oldest story in the book: a woman who didn’t believe in lasting love because she’d never had it.
And Mitchell knew just the man to show her the way.
But she couldn’t learn about his stupid arrangement with Colin. For a woman who thought she wasn’t worthy of long-term love, knowing that he’d sought her out specifically for a fling would kill her.
“It’s none of your business,” Mitchell said finally. “I’ll talk to Suzanne tomorrow about arranging to switch offices.”
Colin’s wary look returned, as though he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “That’s it? That’s all you came over here for?”
Mitchell looked at him closely. “Is there something I’m missing here? You’re acting as guilty as a kid with frosting on his face before dinner.”
Colin’s eyes went wide and innocent. “No, man, just making sure we’re cool—”
Mitchell held up a hand to halt the babbling. “What is that?”
“What’s what?”
Mitchell tilted his head slightly. “I hear voices.”
Colin gave him an incredulous look. “Well, yeah, it’s my girlfriend’s place. She’s allowed to talk.”
Mitchell held up a hand to silence him. “Who’s she talking to?”
“Jeez, I don’t know, man. Quit being creepy.”
“That’s Julie’s voice,” Mitchell said slowly.
But that didn’t make sense. He’d left Julie with Grace and Riley not long ago.
Colin froze and cocked his head to listen as well. But he didn’t look as confused as Mitchell felt. In fact, if he’d looked wary before, he looked downright hunted now.
Mitchell instantly went on high alert. Something was wrong.
Julie’s voice was raised now, and definitely not happy. Mitchell started toward the arguing women, but Colin grabbed his arm. “Hey, dude, did you read the paper today? The
Tribune
?”
Mitchell shook his head in confusion. “I haven’t had a chance to read the paper, and I read the
Times
. Who cares?”
Colin now looked vaguely sick. “You may want to take a look.”
“You want me to read the paper now?” Mitchell asked incredulously.
“Yeah. Now. Just know that Kelli didn’t mean any harm. Well, not to you.”
“Who’s Kelli?” Mitchell asked, now thoroughly confused.
“My girlfriend. She and Julie work together.”
Julie pounded on the front door of Kelli’s brownstone, not caring whom the hell she woke up. Grace had suggested Julie walk the few blocks to Kelli’s in an effort to cool her temper.
It hadn’t worked.
Hell, Kelli could have lived in Vermont and the walk wouldn’t have been long enough for Julie to cool down.
She deliberately put a finger over the peephole so Kelli couldn’t screen her. Kelli had painted the door since Julie had last seen it. It used to be a nice, classic dark wood. Now it was a bright, obtrusive mustard yellow. Tacky. Just like Kelli.
Other than that, everything looked the same as it had the first and only time Julie had been here before, for Kelli’s long-ago birthday party. Back when they’d been friends of sorts. Back before Kelli had decided she’d hated Julie’s guts and stabbed her in the back.
Back before Kelli had sold her out to
freaking Allen Carsons
.
The door finally opened and Julie took a deep breath. As usual, Kelli was perfectly made up, not a strand of straight blond hair out of place. Her white skirt and buttercup-yellow twin set were sweet and innocent. What complete bullshit.
They stared at each other wordlessly before Kelli stepped aside to allow Julie inside her home.
“Are you alone?” Julie asked.
Kelli lifted a shoulder. “Alone enough.”
They faced off in the entryway, all but circling each other like a pair of feral cats.
“Did you do it?” Julie asked.
To her credit, Kelli didn’t play dumb. She gave a smile and a tiny shrug as if to say,
Oopsie
.
“You did,” Julie said, in response to Kelli’s silent admission. “You sold me out. No, you sold
Stiletto
out.”
Kelli gave an eye roll worthy of a snotty preteen. “Oh, come on, Julie. Even you can’t think you’re so important that the entire
magazine
would take a hit because their golden girl
columnist has the morals of a monkey.”
Julie sucked in a breath at that.
Not because Kelli’s jab hurt.
But because it was true.
Julie’s actions had been less than upstanding. Hell, they’d been downright bottom-feeding. In many ways she was no better than Kelli, or even Allen, and she should absolutely have to pay the price for what she’d done.
But not this way. Not with every reader of the
New York Tribune
in on her biggest mistake.
“Does Camille know it was you?”
“No,” Kelli said with a smug smile. “And if you tell her, you can’t prove that it was me.”
Julie gave Kelli a scathing look. “Honey, if I was going to sell you out for being a bitch, I would have done it when you stole my story notes after I found you fucking my boyfriend on top of them.”
They both froze at the unexpected verbal attack.
It was the first time Julie had ever referenced what happened between them, and even as the accusation hung in the air like a silent toxin, Julie felt the smallest sense of relief at getting it out in the open. It had been festering for far too long. Some people simply weren’t worth the effort of staying mad at. Julie was realizing Kelli was one of them.
“You can’t prove that either,” Kelli said. But her voice had gone weak. Defeated. Maybe even guilty.
“You know, I always thought that level of malicious back-stabbing existed only in movie villains. And then I met you. We were
friends
, Kelli. What is your problem with me?” Julie asked, bafflement defusing some of her anger.
“Please,” Kelli said with a prissy sniff as she studied the trendy gold bangles on her wrist. “We were never friends. I was simply your pet project. Someone you were going to groom to be
just like you
so you could expand your little circle of influence.”
Julie shook her head in protest. “I wanted to help you. I mentored you, sure, but I did so out of friendship, not as a self-gratifying ego boost.”
But Kelli’s words had planted a tiny seed of doubt.
Hadn’t Julie felt so proud every time Kelli had gotten praised in a staff meeting?
Hadn’t she been thrilled every time Kelli had written a particularly good article? Had that pride been for Kelli’s sake?
Or for her own?
“Okay, then why not just talk to me about it or keep your distance? Why’d you have to go all
Mean Girls
? And Justin? Was he really necessary?”
Kelli had the grace to blush. “Justin was … a mistake. He’d come in looking for you that one day after work, and he seemed kind of flirty, and it just … happened.”
It was a pathetic excuse. Julie had no tolerance for cheaters, no matter who’d done the initiating. But Justin hadn’t mattered to Julie back then, and he certainly didn’t matter now. Just another playboy passing through her life. He’d also just happened to pass through Kelli’s vagina on the way.
“And the story notes? I suppose that was Justin’s idea too?”
Kelli started to look fidgety. “That wasn’t planned either. It’s just that you came in and caught us, and you looked so damned smug and righteous about the whole thing. But the thing that really got me was how disbelieving you were. As though you couldn’t believe someone would prefer me to you. And I picked up your story notes to hand them to you, but you ran out, and I just—”
Julie held up a hand. “Okay, I get it. You hated my guts and the opportunity was dropped in your lap. But what about
this
?” Julie pulled the newspaper out of her purse and waved it in Kelli’s face. “What possible excuse is there? You completely ratted me out. Destroyed my story.”
You destroyed my life
. But she wouldn’t give Kelli-with-an
-i
that kind of satisfaction.
“And to Allen Carsons of all people? Do you have any idea what Camille will do if she finds out?”
“I’ll be fired,” Kelli said, biting her lip.
Julie snorted. “That’ll be the least of your worries. Your name will be blacklisted in this city. What could possibly be worth the risk?”
Kelli opened her mouth. Shut it again.
And then, to Julie’s great surprise, the younger woman promptly burst into tears. “I know I shouldn’t have done it. I just … you really should have given up the story, Julie. You weren’t qualified. I was. If you’d been focused on the magazine instead of yourself …”
“I know,” Julie said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re right.”
Kelli stopped crying abruptly, her mouth gaping. “Seriously? You agree.”
“Yes, I agree,” Julie snapped. “And up until this little bomb in the
Tribune
, I was planning to tell Camille that the story was yours.”
Kelli sucked in a breath. “You were?”
“Yup. I was,” Julie snarled, stuffing the paper in her purse. “But, see, I’ve changed my mind. I won’t write about Mitchell. He’s too important to me. But I
will
keep my article. I don’t know what the hell I’ll write about, but I’ll make something up.”
“You’re doing that just to spite me.”
Julie’s anger spiked. “Thanks to you, the entire city thinks I’m a soulless whore! Do you have any idea what Mitchell will say when he finds out?”
I’ll lose him
.
Kelli’s expression turned nasty. Well …
nastier
. “You know,” she said, with a faux-thoughtful tap of a finger against her lips, “somehow I don’t think he’ll care one way or the other.”
Ignore her. She’s trying to get under your skin
. But it was as though Kelli had her skinny finger on the pulse of Julie’s insecurities. So she bit the bait.
“Why wouldn’t he care?” she asked carefully. “You don’t even know him.”
Kelli gave a slow smile. “Not personally, no. But I know friends of his.”
“And?” Julie wanted nothing more than to slap the smug grin from Kelli’s face, but first she had to know.
“We’ll see,” Kelli said, taking a half step closer. “You know that part two that Mr. Carsons referenced in his article? That too was my scoop.”
Julie thought back to the wording in the paper:
Her prey had his own nefarious reasons for letting himself fall into her disingenuous web
.
“What are you talking about?” Julie said, hating that her voice had gone shaky.
Kelli gave her a look of sham sympathy. “You didn’t know? Honey, turns out at the very time you were hatching a plan to reel the man in,
he
was making a bet that he could make a fling out of you. He and my boyfriend made a bet that Mitchell couldn’t have a flirtatious, meaningless short-term roll in the hay with Manhattan’s favorite girl toy.”