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Prologue

Pierce

New York City, 2014

The water sluices over my skin, hot and steaming. Like it’s purifying me. Taking me away from what happened at the party.

Fists flying, bone crunching against cartilage. My brother’s face, bleeding. Not by my hand — or I don’t think so, anyway. I can’t remember. It all fades when I think about it too hard. I didn’t even want to be there, in the fluorescent lit hotel ballroom, even though it was a party for my college graduation. For my new job at Cochran Securities. None of it seemed like an accomplishment, especially not the job. I’m Pierce Cochran after all, and it’s not exactly surprising that my father hired me at his firm the second I got out of school.

Everyone I loved was there. My mom, my dad. My younger brother, Logan, who got out on leave for this very occasion. And Arie. Beautiful Arie. Teasing lips and sweet, wide eyes. She was the only one I wanted to see.

The blood runs through my fingers.

When I walked in the room, I wished I was anywhere else. I set my own ass up for all this bullshit. The fight, the harsh words. The embarrassment. If I had to guess, this is why I’m currently standing in the shower of my hotel room, washing blood from my fists.

My hands ache. My shoulder muscles are in knots.

I close my eyes and lean my head against the shower wall. It’s cool against my throbbing head. I try to piece together the events of the night. But it’s all smoke and haze, slipping through my fingers like the red blood and water of the shower.

There was whiskey, then more whiskey, and gin with Dad. The final encore was a trio of vodka tonics. That really fucking finished me off. The alcohol took things from reasonable to unreasonable. And Arie. I kept staring at her. Watching her. Going over the supple lines of her body in my mind. I went to her and tilted her head towards mine, telling her that tonight was the night. It needed to be the night. But we fought, like we always do about this one damn thing. She’s been saving herself for marriage, and I’ve been patiently waiting for almost ten years for her to give it up. I think I stalked off to play pool with Logan when she told me ‘no,’ yet again.

Pool with Logan. Lining up my shot and trying to get just the right spin, then whiffing royally thanks to my drunken vision. Logan snickers, then takes aim, sinking three balls with a satisfied grin. He’s kicking my ass, and I hate losing to anyone, let alone my little brother.

Then I look up and see Arie slowly slipping off her sweater, exposing her smooth, glowing shoulders, and the curve of her firm breasts under a thin blue sundress. She’s driving me crazy, making it impossible for me to focus on the damn game. She looks at me with a stare so dirty, I could have fucked her right then and there; I imagine filling her perfect little mouth with my thick cock.

And seconds before, she’s telling me we were waiting. Still waiting.

She does this to me, especially when she’s been drinking. She teases me, even though she has no intention of following through. She makes me want to just… throw her down on this pool table and fuck her in front of everyone. And yes, I know just how messed up that is.

Everything that happened after that is a blur of fists flying and breaking glass.

Two frat boys I don’t recognize saunter into the hotel bar where we are having my party. They’re definitely not with us; they look like they’re on vacation from Iowa, or another flyover state. They definitely aren’t from the city.

The heat of the water burns against my broken, bruised skin, but it eases some of the pain in my throbbing muscles. I watch as blood pools at my feet, and my mind starts to put the pieces of the puzzle back together.

Did I hit them first, or did they hit me?

The guys walk right up to Arie, and they start chatting her up. One pushes a lock of her curly black hair out of her face, while the other runs a finger down the bare skin of her arm. My vision starts to go cloudy with rage.

I set my cue down on the side of the table and take a step in their direction.

Logan puts a hand on my arm. He tells me to stop and take a breath, to think through what I’m about to do, but when I lock eyes with Arie, I know there is no going back. Then I see one of the frat guys reach down and grab her ass.

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And I see red.

The last thing I remember before waking up on my hotel bed is the sound my fist made when it connected with the taller kid’s jaw.

Even without clear memories, my body bears its share of physical reminders of what happened. My abdomen and chest are covered in bruises, and I can feel more on my back from where I was probably sucker-punched in the kidneys. I begrudgingly turn off the water, and grab one of the plush hotel towels to dry my hair. When I brush the towel against my head, it hurts, and when I pull the towel away, it’s stained with blood. I reach up and find shards of glass in my hair, as if a beer bottle were broken over the top of my head.

I probably had that coming.

I walk out of the bathroom naked, with every intention of just collapsing back into bed and dealing with my pissed off family in the morning.