Page 95 of The Devil of Downtown

“Yes.” She watches me carefully. “She didn’t want to risk losing the job.”

I trace my thumb once more over her knuckles. “That makes sense.”

Her shoulders ease, just a fraction.

“She’s a good mom,” she adds, like it matters that I understand that part.

“I don’t doubt it,” I say. “Anyone who is terrified of losing a job usually has something worth protecting.”

That earns me a small, relieved smile.

Ivy studies my profile as my gaze stays fixed ahead. It feels natural to have her by my side. She stretches out in a yawn, kicks off her heels, and curls her feet underneath her.

“What happened with Brody?” I say, hands tightening on the steering wheel, my eyes still ahead. “Does he usually put his hands on you?”

She tenses a little, subtle but there. “He doesn’t... usually. Tonight was his launch night, so he was just a bit spun out.”

Spun out?From where I was standing, he looked like he’d snorted enough coke to light up a small village, but I bite back the comment—for now.

“That doesn’t excuse him touching you like that,” I say, voice lower. “And it sure as hell doesn’t excuse the way he grabbed you.”

“He didn’t hurt me.”

“I don’t care.” My fingers flex against her thigh. “He puts his hands on you again, I won’t be stopping myself next time.”

“Let’s forget about it for now,” she says, her fingertips brushing mine. “My tequila-soaked brain can’t deal.”

She yawns again, closing her eyes. “God, with training and then the club, I’m beat," she mumbles, her breathing evening out slowly.

“Get some sleep then.”

“Mmm..”

Her hand loosens, then slips away completely as she drifts off. Her breathing slows, lashes flickering, her body turned slightly toward me as if, even unconscious, she gravitates toward me.

I drive the rest of the way with nothing but the sound of loose stones under the tires, winding up the dark mountain road until the house finally appears—quiet, isolated, half swallowed by the surrounding trees. Moonlight spills across the lake behind it, the surface calm and silver, mountains rising like shadows on the far side. My sanctuary in the Catskills. A place I come to escape, where no one comes. Except her.

She doesn’t stir when I park the car and open her door, or when I slide an arm under her knees and another around her back. She leans instinctively against me, her head resting on my chest.

Inside, the house is dim, except for the moon pouring through the wall of glass that overlooks the spectacular mountain views. The lake looks like ink, still and deep, the pines along the edges moving only when the wind breathes.

I carry her into the bedroom and lay her down on the bed. She murmurs something half-formed, incoherent, already gone again. I take off her shoes and slip off her dress, leaving her in just a black lace silk bra and matching thong that makes me groan in frustration. Her nipples are hard and straining against the lace, taunting me, her skin an ethereal glow in the dim light, like she’s cast from a dream. I wrap the quilt around her and leave her, heading back through to the living room to fix a nightcap. I take a quick shower and wrap a towel around my waist before I venture through, pouring a drink, the splash of whiskey against crystal mingling with the faint buzz of rural life.

I drop into the armchair facing the window and take a slow drink, letting it burn down my chest, and watch the wind ripple across the lake, the night sky rich with stars.

After the drive, I’m not ready to sleep, and the sight of Ivy in black lace isn’t helping, so when a text from Charlotte flashes across my phone screen, I welcome the distraction.

charlotte

Where are you? I called around to your apartment earlier, and you weren't there.

me

I'm at my place in the Catskills.

charlotte

Oh, I thought we would grab dinner before I leave for Boston.