Page 21 of Inside the Maelstrom: Part One
He shrugged, looking back at his phone. “She’s nice. She doesn’t deserve whatever dastardly shit you and Hendrick will come up with to torment her.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not going to torment her. And you didn’t answer my question.”
Now it was his turn to look incredulous. “Remember that girl, Tiffany? Stephanie? Something like that—the one in our freshman year of college that you flirted with, until she was sure she was in love with you, and then you crushed her? She dropped out. Just because you were bored.”
I shrugged. “And because she had a bet going that she could get me to propose by the end of college. She saw me as a meal ticket, so I treated her like garbage.”
“Be serious, Sampson. Half the girls you meet have dreams of becoming your wife, though I don’t really understand why they'd spend more than ten minutes in your presence.”
“The zeros in my bank account help to smooth over my personality faults,” I teased, giving him a crooked smirk. “Message Hendrick and tell him to meet us at Saks. Good Girl needs some clothes if we’re going to London and god knows where else.”
Otto was pulling out his phone and messaging the group chat even as he said, “She can’t afford Saks. Maybe we should take her to a mall somewhere.”
I waved a hand. “Cheap crap. Besides, this is for me. It will entertain me to dress her up how I like.”
“Then get a Barbie doll, you psycho.” There was no heat in his words though. I think he wanted to give the girl her Pretty Woman moment, despite what she’d said. He stuffed his phone in his pocket. “I’ll go and grab her. Better she knows what she's in for now, while she’s still on US soil and not trapped in Europe with you fuckers.”
Such a goddamn white knight, that one.
I read the email from my assistant, who had a cruisy as fuck job since I didn’t really want or need an assistant, except for moments like these. When I needed someone to throw around the weight of my name and didn’t want to do it myself. He’d gotten Aviva’s travel documents Express Expedited, which I’m fairly sure was code for he’d paid off someone every step of the way. It was fine, I wasn’t worried. Looks like he’d earned his wage this week.
I called down to Reception to make sure that they knew to expect a parcel for me, and that they’d keep it somewhere safe until I collected it. Finally, I grabbed my wallet and jacket, and stepped out into the hall. There were only four suites on this floor, and from what I knew, the only other long-term tenants were the Chinese Embassy—who kept theirs for visiting diplomats—and an aging rockstar who’d been divorced three times and still had loads of money. Airtight prenups were the key to a good marriage. The other suite was still occasionally rented out to music stars and European royals, but not often. No, I appreciated the peace of living in the St. Regis. All the services of home, without having to worry who changed my sheets.
I took the stairs down three flights to the floor where Aviva was staying. I should’ve had her put in the spare suite on my floor, but I imagined that if she knew I’d sunk five k on a room for her for the night, it’d make her face scrunch up in horror. I wouldn’t tell her that this one wasn’t much less, though to Hendrick and I, it was pennies.
As I knocked on the door, I could hear the slow rumble of Otto’s voice with the softer, higher cadence of Aviva’s. They’d probably make a good couple. Otto needed to be a savior, and Aviva desperately needed rescuing.
But I was a selfish fuck. I didn’t mind sharing, but I wanted some too.
Otto pulled open the door and stepped into the hall, and a frowning Aviva stepped out after him. She scowled at me, so I guess Otto hadn’t done a great job at selling the whole ‘let’s go shopping’ idea. Maybe I liked Good Girl for that too. Most girls would let out an ear-piercing squeal at the idea that I was going to buy them a whole new wardrobe, so Aviva’s recalcitrance was what made it so much fun. She opened her mouth, her cheeks flushing pink, and I knew she was about to argue.
“Let’s go.” I spun and strode down the plush carpeted hall, grinning at her angry huff. I could hear her stomping short strides behind me, and I tried to school my features back into nonchalance. “Is Hendrick coming?”
Otto nodded. “He said he needs to pick up a few things too.” I frowned for real this time. What went on with Hendrick and his father that he’d bailed without his shit?
We walked down Fifth, and Aviva gawped like she’d never stepped foot in a city before. I tried to see this place as she did, the old beside the new, the shine of the city next to the homeless who hadn’t been moved on yet. NYC had always had its own kind of magic appeal. It wasn’t the glitzy kind like the West Coast. NYC had history in its very foundations—from the tallest building to the sewer rats—and it infected any person who stepped into it with the same magic.
But like anything new and magical, the shine eventually wore off, and you realized there was a nervous old white dude behind the curtain pulling the strings the whole time.
We dodged around the tourists taking pictures of Saks, and I ushered Otto and the girl through the front doors. Hendrick was waiting for us just inside the door, though I had no idea how he’d gotten here so fast. He was staring at his phone with a frown on his face, his foot tapping wildly. There was a small bandage on the side of his head that wasn’t quite covered by the longer ends of his hair. I stared at that bandage, rage flowing through my veins.
Maybe I needed to re-evaluate if I really could afford to kill a senator. My stocks in a certain streaming service had gone up this last year, giving me a bit more liquid capital. Pretty sure I could get my accountant to cover it somewhere in my finances.
He looked up when Otto cleared his throat. We were both staring at the same thing, but Aviva seemed oblivious as she just stared open-mouthed around the department store. Hendrick cut us both a sharp look, and I didn’t need to be his best friend to understand his expression was telling usno questions. He may as well have been shouting it.
He placed himself on the other side of Aviva, so she couldn’t see the bandage if she turned to look at him. “Are we going shopping, Viva? I’m in desperate need.”
I didn’t know if they gave the employees here flashcards of prominent New York families, or if we were just in the tabloids a lot, but a personal shopper appeared in front of us almost immediately.
“Mr. Rubio, Mr. Kenley. Welcome to Saks Fifth Avenue. How may we help you today?” She was blonde, coiffed to perfection, and her uniform tailored skillfully. Hendrick dragged Aviva forward, and I watched the personal shopper’s eyes quickly take in her outfit, the customer service smile never dropping from her face. In that one quick expression, she’d made several snap judgements about Aviva, who she was to us, and where in the social ladder she belonged.
“She needs a wardrobe suitable for Europe.”
The employee nodded. “What season?”
I grumbled low in my throat, drawing the woman’s eyes. “Right now. Here’s what I want...”
By the time I was done with my list, Aviva looked pale. The personal shopper directed us to the VIP dressing rooms, then scurried away with a small, busy army of other employees.
