Karma Read online

She gave me a small smile. "And thank you for taking care of me afterwards. I honestly don't think there are too many guys who would do that." My brain went back to that night. When we’d finished, I remembered going to the bathroom and getting her a warm washcloth. I could tell she was uncomfortable and sore. She needed something to help with the pain, so I grabbed her a few aspirins and used the washcloth to help clean up the blood before changing the sheets.

  She was right, though; I typically wouldn’t have gone out of my way to make a girl so comfortable before. But I felt like I needed to with her. I was uncertain that night of why, but the meaning was getting clearer every minute more I spent with her. I cared about Gabby. Shit, I was certain I cared about her before we’d even had sex.

  Gabby was everything I admired. She made me want to be a better person. Sure, she didn’t come from the best family, but she had more fucking class than half of the girls I knew with bank accounts larger than mine. She wasn't around me because of my family's status or their money; she didn't want all that shit. Gabby was carefree and thoughtful. She was such a good person, and I envied her for that; I knew I could never be as sincere as her.

  "Thank you for dinner," she whispered, opening the passenger door. We’d barely finished our dessert before the yawns started. I jumped out of my car and raced around to her side to meet her. Grabbing her arm, I helped her up and wrapped my arms around her shivering shoulders as I walked her to the front door. “I had fun with you tonight. It was much better than working,” she said, smiling.

  I laughed. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment considering you hate your job.”

  Her face lit up against the overhead light shining down on us, and her wet, just-licked lips glistened, begging for my lips to kiss them. And I did. My tongue inched out, tracing the lines of her lips before kissing her lightly, then pulling away. “Get your beauty sleep, baby,” I grumbled, hugging her to my chest and kissing her on the top of her hair. Tonight wasn’t about getting my dick excited or having sex; tonight was about making her my girl.

  I plopped down into Asher's passenger seat and wiped my tired eyes. "You were out pretty late last night," he commented, sighing heavily. When I'd gotten back from dinner, I was struck with guilt when I walked into the living room and found Asher snoring lightly on the couch with the TV on. My favorite candy and an untouched bowl of popcorn were sitting in the middle of the coffee table.

  "Good morning to you, too," I grumbled, turning down his loud music and grabbing my make-up bag from my purse. I hadn't had time to do my make-up before leaving because I’d overslept. "And not really, I got home before midnight. I'm sorry you fell asleep; I didn't realize it was that late."

  He backed out of the garage and kept his eyes on the road. "Is there something going on between the two of you?" he asked, and my hands stopped my mascara search. Why did it seem like someone was always asking me that damn question?

  I whipped my head back and forth. "No, we made some ridiculous bet, and he owed me dinner. That's it," I replied, going back to my hunt and snagging my mascara. I unscrewed the wand and brought down the visor mirror.

  "Be careful. I know he's my cousin, but I don't want to see you get hurt." He braked at a red light, and I began swiping my eyelashes with the skinny brush.

  "Okay," I drew out. "We went to dinner as friends, not on a date. We go out to dinner all the time, it's the same thing." Granted, I'd never had sex with Asher, but he didn't need to know that.

  He pressed on the accelerator suddenly, causing my body to jerk forward, and a sticky glob of black liquid landed on the side of my cheek. Before I had the chance to bitch at him for messing up my face, he continued with his lecture. "I'm pretty sure we've never gotten it on in an elevator. So, no, it's not really the same thing."

  I grabbed a napkin from his glove box and began scrubbing my face. "What are you talking about?"

  His knuckles gripped the steering wheel. "When I was checking the camera at Ivy's place, I saw you two practically dry-humping each other in the elevator. That sure didn't look like just friends. You were against the wall, and his hands were practically molesting you." He shook his head and pinched his lips together.

  I let out a noisy breath and dropped my bag back into my purse. "That wasn't what it looked like."

  He pulled into the parking lot, and he shifted in his seat to face me. "Look, you don't have to explain anything to me. I just want you to promise me that you'll be careful. There's a reason why I stay the hell away from my dad's family, and I'd suggest you do the same. They're all fucked up, Gabs; even Dalton. They'll hurt anyone who gets in their way, family or not. I don't want to see that happen to you." He grabbed my hand in his and squeezed it gently. "So, promise me you'll be careful with him."

  I nodded, my eyes blazing into his aqua irises. "I promise." I appreciated Asher's protectiveness. He was reminding me of what I already knew about the Douglas family. They weren't good people, and I couldn't get myself caught up in their wrath; they'd destroy me in a blink of an eye.

  Dalton was perched up at his desk when I walked in, with the news on in the background. His suit jacket was off, hanging off the edge of his chair, and the top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned as he focused on a paper in front of him.

  He's bad news. I had to remember those important words of warning and manage to keep everything professional between the two of us. But I had a feeling that would be easier said than done; the boy knew how to get what he wanted, and I was the prime target on his radar.

  A grin tugged at his lips when his head tilted up to find me. "So, what's on the agenda today?" I asked, tossing my bag onto the floor and falling down into a chair.

  "We have to go talk to Ivy again," he answered, throwing his feet up on his desk.

  Kill me now. "Haven't you had enough of that girl?" I knew I sure had.

  "I would say she's probably had enough of us, as well." It was like her name had pulled a trigger because the minute it came out of his mouth, the broadcaster on TV began reporting about her and John’s scandal. Every day, there was something more that was being thrown into the mix. Some of them were about John but most were information on Ivy. The reporters dug into her past, finding anything they could and would stand outside her apartment building waiting for her to leave. Every news station in town wanted a glimpse or a statement from the governor’s mistress, but she hadn’t shown her face since the day she’d exposed John. We both looked up at the screen and I recognized one of the photos as one Dalton had threatened her with. Yep, that was our doing.

  Ivy had pissed me off, but I didn't like blackmailing people. "What are we going to do?" I snarled. "Threaten her some more? I doubt she really gives a crap anymore, considering she's now a freaking millionaire. She's probably laughing her way to buy a new pair of Jimmy Choos."

  He grabbed the remote beside him and pushed the power button. "You really think that shoe shopping is at the top of her priority list? She's probably too embarrassed to even step out in public."

  I crossed my legs and kicked my foot against the chair. "Oh, she's over it. If I was having a shitty day and my reputation had just been canned for the rest of my life, you bet your ass I'd be shoe shopping. And purse shopping. Oh, and probably house shopping in some other state. If you can't make your day better, buying yourself something pretty will help with the problem." It didn't matter if it was a damn pack of gum or some new jeans, getting new anything made any girl happy.

  He rose up from his chair and grabbed his jacket. "Then come on, Nostradamus. Let's see if your prediction is correct."

  I grabbed my bag and got up as he walked past me. "I can tell you one thing I know is true," I said, following him out into the hallway and shutting his office door.

  "What's that?" he asked, turning around to look at me as he walked backwards.

  "One of us is right, and the other one is you," I answered, my lips opening up and laughing.

  He reached out, grabbing my arm and snuggling me into his side. "Oh,
babe, you have jokes," he said, dragging me into the elevator.

  "You got any advice on the stocks for tomorrow?" Dalton asked. We'd just left Ivy's place, and I was right; she was gone, and so was everything she owned. With the help of another hundred from Dalton, the guy at the front desk divulged that she'd moved all her things out yesterday in the middle of the night without saying a word to anyone. He didn't know where she was going or any way to get into contact with her.

  "I told you before," I said, leaning back into the comfortable seat of his car. "I'm a girl, and no one knows girls better than girls."

  His eyes twinkled in amusement. "That sounds kinky, babe."

  I rolled my eyes at him and smacked his hand resting on the center console. "So, does this mean we're finished with everything Ivy-related now that's she split town?"

  He clicked the turn signal, and my body leaned into the right. "I'm not really sure." His phone beeped; he snagged it out of his pocket and looked at the screen, frowning. "It's a text from my dad," he explained, eyeing me from the driver’s seat.

  "Oh, yay," I muttered.

  "Looks like we have to meet him and John for lunch."

  I twisted my body around to face him, the seatbelt nudging into my chest. “We? There's no ‘we’ when it's in regards to your dad." I despised being around that man. Dalton signaled a turn before turning in the opposite direction of the office, and I knew there was no changing his mind. I needed to prepare myself for surviving through a lunch from hell.

  "It won't be long, and I'm sure they won't say anything to you."

  I clapped my hands together sarcastically. "Yay! You're right. I bet they’ll act like I’m not even there.

  We pulled into a parking lot packed with luxury cars and valet workers crowded the front of the large, brick building. Dalton whipped the steering wheel, heading toward the valet lane while I let out a dramatic sigh. He looked over at me, his eyebrows arching.

  "You see that parking spot right there?" I asked, pointing to an open spot directly across from us and only a few steps from the front door. "We'd only have to walk a few steps." There were still a few things I was getting used to, being around wealthy people all the time. One of them was their need to feel like they had to get valet for everything. Even if they had to walk three steps, they still got valet. It was ridiculous and annoying. "Plus, if we need to run away, it will be easier to run to the car versus waiting for the valet to bring it."

  He put the car in reverse and pulled into the parking spot I’d pointed out. "Fine, have it your way, princess. I didn't want you to have to walk a few extra steps in those heels. But if my dad asks why I let my car be in the 'normal people parking lot’, don't tell him it was your idea."

  I reached for the door handle but stopped to look back at him. "Please tell me your dad doesn't really call it that?" He nodded. "That's just sad." Wilson was such a presumptuous jerk.

  The hostess greeted us when we walked into the chaotic restaurant. I'd never eaten there before, but I'd heard great things about it. I would've been excited to finally get the chance if my company were better. Instead, my first experience was going to be with two dickheads and a boy I was developing feelings for that I shouldn't.

  The hostess walked quickly to the back of the room, and I picked up my pace to keep up with her. We continued to follow her until she dug down into a smaller room and stopped at a small table hidden from the rest of the patrons. John and Wilson were already seated, sitting next to one another and having a conversation that looked heated. When we approached, their voices quieted and their eyes focused on us.

  Wilson’s eyes glared at Dalton and turned cold when they noticed me. "Dalton, you brought Gabby," he commented, his voice annoyed. Great, I was definitely killing Dalton for bringing me along when I wasn't even wanted.

  Dalton pulled out a chair for me across from John, and he took the one across from Wilson. "She's my partner for this case; of course I brought her," he replied. His hand moved under the table, and I felt a subtle pat hit my thigh.

  "Dalton, Gabby," John said, nodding his head toward us. At least he didn't act like I was completely invisible. He set his napkin down onto his lap and added some sweetener to his tea.

  "Tell me you’ve got something?" Wilson growled, and my eyes scanned the menu in front of me. "We need to know who paid the little whore off." I peeked over at Dalton, curious if he was going to tell them the truth or not. We bided some time by the waiter interrupting us to take our orders and Dalton took a long drink of water before saying anything.

  "It's your wife," Dalton answered, his voice tense and his expression serious. I breathed in a deep breath as John choked on his drink, his head jerking up. He pounded on his chest with his fist before regaining composure.

  "I'm sorry," he rasped out. "But you're wrong if you think my wife paid that tramp."

  Wilson shifted around in his chair, and I could tell he was doing everything in his power to hold back the anger surging through his blood. He didn't believe us, either. "I thought you'd do a better job at this, Son," he scrutinized, his voice cracking in anger.

  "He's telling the truth," I said, joining Dalton's defense. "We talked to your wife and she confirmed it. She knows about your affairs, Ivy, everything.”

  "I don't believe you," John said, and his face began to crumble in defeat. He knew we were telling the truth, he was just choosing to reject the thought.

  "Why not?" I asked, playing with the straw in my drink and narrowing my eyes at him while avoiding Wilson's death stare. "You were having multiple affairs. Did you think she'd sit around and let that happen forever?"

  Our glasses shook from Wilson's fist slamming down onto the table. "Control the damn girl," he seethed, his eyes long and calculating my way.

  John held his hand up, stopping anyone from 'controlling’ me. "Wilson, don't reprimand the girl for being honest." The straw fell out of my fingers and my eyes grew wide. "Someone needed to do it. If my wife is the one who did this, the only solution to the problem is me talking to her." My jaw fell open, shocked at John's words; I'd been expecting a completely different reaction when we'd revealed the truth.

  Dalton leaned forward, his hand still grazing my leg under the table. "She has your lawyers drawing up divorce papers," he added. Everyone shut their mouths and gave forced smiles to the waiter dropping off our food.

  "Do you want us to do something about this?" Wilson asked as soon as the waiter scurried away.

  "No, she's my wife." Even if he was a douchebag, I could tell he truly cared about his wife. "I'm not going to threaten or blackmail my own wife." In that moment, I wanted to get up and give him a pat on the back.

  Wilson worked his jaw. "She did it to you." And in that moment, I wanted to punch Wilson in the back.

  John scrubbed his hands over his face roughly. "You're right, but I'm the one who created this entire debacle." I picked at my Caesar salad while they continued to go back and forth on what to do with his wife before tossing my fork down into my food. I couldn't stomach listening to them for much longer, and it certainly didn't give me an appetite.

  "So, what's the conclusion?" Dalton asked, and I noticed he hadn't touched his food, either.

  "Just lay off for a minute, okay? I'm going to go home and talk to Edith," John spat, throwing his napkin down onto the table. His chair screeched as it slid out from under the table and he lifted up. "I'll call you when I need you." He whipped around and left.

  "Goddamn it, Dalton, I trusted you with this," Wilson seethed when John was out of earshot.

  "His wife paying her was out of our control."

  "You should know this before it happens. That's what a real employee of mine would've done." He looked at us with suspicion, and I scoffed.

  "You got something to say?" He challenged, his cold eyes flashing to me.

  Dalton's hand cupped my thigh, squeezing it, but I ignored the gesture. "I'm just curious as to why, if it was so damn easy, you didn't find it?" I knew I'd probably be
fired for back-talking him but there was no way we could've been blamed for this.

  "You've got some damn nerve," Wilson snapped, picking up his knife and pointing it at me.

  "Dad," Dalton groaned. "Let it go. We're all stressed, and this is the last thing we saw coming." A sour taste formed in my mouth as I held back my laugh. Why were they all surprised it was the wife? Did they expect the women to be these subservient housewives while they allow their husbands to do whatever they wanted? I wanted to throw a history book at his face and tell him to flip to the Equal Rights Amendment chapter.

  I was waiting, expecting fireballs to come blaring out of Wilson's nostrils as his face reddened and he pointed my way. "I should've never partnered you up with this brat. I knew you were nothing but trouble, just like your damn mother, and you're holding him back."

  "Don't take this shit out on her," Dalton snapped before I got the chance to tell Wilson to go fuck himself. "She's the one who told me to check the wife when you had me looking at his brother!" I lowered my hand and folded it on top of his hand still resting on my leg.

  "How cute, you're sticking up for the tramp's daughter," he laughed, bitterly.

  Heat began to rush through my head as his words seared through me. I narrowed my eyes at him. "Look, asshole, your remarks about my mom need to stop. You know nothing about her, and she's far from being a tramp."

  Wilson's chest caved in and out as he busted out in laughter. "I'm the wrong person to disrespect, Gabrielle. I can promise you that."

  My nails dug into Dalton's hand. "Do you think I'm scared of you? I'm not," I croaked, leaning forward and staring him down. Okay, I was terrified of the man, but I had to hold my own. "You're nothing but a coward. You sit behind your big, bad desk and huff and puff, forcing others to threaten people for you.” I jumped up from my chair, my hands beginning to shake, and bolted from the table before Wilson had the chance to tear me down with more insults.

  "Gabby! Babe, slow down!" Dalton's voice yelled out from behind me as I dodged bodies before pushing open the heavy restaurant door. Warm air smacked me in the face as I stomped across the parking lot to his car.