Bad Influence, page 5
Ten minutes later, he was perched on a high stool, a cold pint in his hand. The bar was an old favorite, a common “on the way home” watering hole that he and Annie had frequented when they’d worked only a block from each other. He swiped his thumb through the condensation on the glass and let out a hollow laugh.
How fucking stupid he’d been back then. He’d had the world at his feet, and he hadn’t appreciated it one bit.
“Joe?”
A familiar voice caught his attention.
Andrew, an old friend and former colleague, clapped a hand on his back and reached for the beer waiting for him. “How long has it been?”
Joseph tamped down the feeling of relief. These days, he really needed a friend, even if he didn’t necessarily deserve one.
“Too long,” Joseph replied, raising his beer to Andrew’s. “Feels like a goddamn decade.”
“I heard you were coming back.”
“Word travels fast.” The negotiations for this job had been kept quiet. Joseph hadn’t even flown in for the interviews, since it’d all been done over Skype. Even after the paperwork had been signed, they hadn’t announced it right away.
Because his appointment caused waves. In tech companies and start-ups, it wasn’t uncommon to have a younger person at the helm. Hell, it was probably the norm. But banking was one of the world’s last corporate dinosaurs. Anyone under forty-five “couldn’t possibly” have the experience to take on such a challenge, as he’d already been told. Joseph had heard the discontent and all the comments about his father giving him a leg up, and questions about his experience were being lobbed at him left, right, and center. Technically, he didn’t start until Monday, so who knew how much worse it would get.
“C I fucking O. You make me sick,” Andrew said. “How old are you, like twelve?”
“Thirteen.” Joseph winked. “And a half.”
“And they’re giving you the keys to the kingdom.” Andrew shook his head. “I’m impressed.”
“Talent knows no age, my friend.”
Andrew snorted. “I thought you said you were going to kick the corporate stuff after a few years. Focus on starting up your white-hat business.”
That had certainly been the plan. With cybercrime on the rise, the need for ethical hacking was growing at a rapid rate. Data breaches were fast becoming a major concern for large corporations, and there was money to be made. But of course, being an entrepreneur wasn’t quite prestigious enough for the son of Morris Preston.
As far as his father was concerned, internet security was a passing fad that would leave Joseph penniless like a dot-com crash victim.
“Goals change,” he said with a shrug.
“It’s good to see you.” Andrew grinned and took a swig of his beer. “I knew you couldn’t stay away.”
“Manhattan tends to have that effect on people.”
“The job brought you home?”
“I was ready to come home. If it wasn’t this job, it would have been another. Singapore was great, but I had cabin fever.” He shot his friend a rueful smile. “It’s very…insular in the expat community.”
He nodded. “Does Annie know you’re back?”
“You don’t waste any time with hard-hitting questions, do you?” Joseph shook his head.
“Sorry, man. That’s what consulting has done to me. Time is money, no beating around the bush.”
“I bumped into her this morning.” Joseph’s lip twitched at his choice of words. “Completely by coincidence.”
“And?”
“It was awkward. She was shocked.” Joseph took a long gulp of his beer, relishing the cool liquid sliding down his dry throat. “I didn’t want it to go down like that.”
“But fate got in the way.” Andrew nodded sagely.
“Probably more karma than fate. Payback for being a stupid son of a bitch,” he muttered.
“Can’t argue with that.”
Andrew was one of several people who had sent him a “What the hell is going on?” message when it had come out that Joseph was leaving and Annie was staying behind. He and Andrew had kept up loose contact—an email here and there—over the last few years. But Andrew had made it clear from the get-go that he thought Joseph was being an idiot.
“Did you tell anyone you were coming home?” Andrew narrowed his eyes.
“I emailed my parents last week.” Joseph shrugged. “But I suspect Dad already knew. Industry gossip… You know what it’s like.”
“That’s dysfunctional.”
Dysfunction was the only thing his family excelled at as a group. And he’d emailed to save himself a lecture from his mother, not because he thought they’d want to meet him at the other end.
“What happened to the girl you were going to marry?”
Joseph’s hand tightened around his beer. “It’s over.”
He could still hear the sound of Annika screaming at him, at the burst of a vase against the wall like a glittering, violent firework. Her shaking the picture of Annie that she’d found hidden in his passport wallet.
I can’t compete with her. I can’t make you forget about her.
Joseph needed a plan. A plan for how to deal with his parents. A plan for how to speak to Annie so he could let go and move on. A plan for how to get his life back on track. Because now it felt like he was standing at the edge of a sinkhole, and it was only a matter of time before his mistakes pulled him under.
Chapter 4
“You made one too many mistakes. Look out, I’m coming for you.”
—MrNiceGuy
“I mean, he’s cute and all, but we’re about to go off to college next year. I don’t know if I’m ready to be tied down like that.” Sofia paused to take a sip of her coffee—some crème brûlée–flavored confection that was more whipped cream than it was coffee. “You know, commitment is scary.”
Annie had to bite her tongue. The only commitment her seventeen-year-old sister had encountered so far in her life was to choose between two types of Lululemon leggings for her birthday present. But Annie had learned that pointing such things out would only result in her sister talking to her less, which was not at all what she wanted.
“Might be good to keep your options open,” Annie said, bringing her latte to her lips and finding the cup empty. She tossed it into a trash can as they approached her apartment building. “And you’ve got better things to worry about besides boys.”
“You sound like Mom.” Sofia rolled her eyes. “Although I guess that shouldn’t be too surprising, since you are blood-related.”
“Hate to break it to you, Sof. All moms and big sisters sound like that.”
“And I thought big sisters were supposed to tell you to take risks and live your life.” Sofia wrinkled her nose. “Not say boys are a waste of time.”
“I said you had better things to worry about, not that they’re a waste of time.”
Annie swiped her access card and let Sofia go ahead of her. She watched as her sister’s long, dark ponytail swished above a pair of jeans so tight they could have been spray-painted on. A thin ribbon of skin was bared at her back, where a cropped sweater failed to meet the waistband of her jeans. It was chilly today, too cold for that kind of outfit.
You really do sound like your mother.
“Is that why you never have a boyfriend anymore?” Sofia asked with a raised brow. “Because you have better things to worry about?”
It was partly that. Between her day job working as a business analyst for a software development firm, managing Bad Bachelors, and visiting her family, there wasn’t much time left over at the end of the week. Annie chose to spend it reading, running, or hanging out with Darcy.
But that was only an excuse she told herself to keep the truth at bay. Fact was, the thought of dating again terrified Annie. There had been a brief time when she’d tried to put herself out into the dating scene after Joseph. But it had been an epic disaster.
No chemistry, bad conversation, long, awkward pauses that made her want to pull her hair out. Oh, and the dick pics. Ew. Then there was the guy who’d point-blank told her in the middle of dinner that he had a ten-inch cock, and after him, she wouldn’t be able to enjoy sex with other men.
Ugh, hard pass. No pun intended.
“Dating is not a priority for me right now,” she said. As they walked through the lobby, the concierge flagged them down.
“Ms. Maxwell.” The young guy nodded. “A parcel came in for you today. Would you like to grab it now?”
Annie nodded, and the man disappeared into the storeroom to retrieve it. “I mean, if the right guy comes along, I won’t say no, but I’m not actively looking.”
You mean if the right guy runs smack into you in the middle of Central Park…
“But the right guy won’t find you if you do nothing but be a”—Sofia narrowed her eyes—“hermit.”
“I’m not a hermit.”
“You’re kind of a hermit.”
Annie smoothed a hand over her hair and prayed for strength. “It’s called being an adult, Sof. You’ll learn about that one day.”
“Responsibilities, bills, jobs. Blah, blah, blah.” Sofia made a talking motion with her hand. “Boring!”
“Here, make yourself useful and hold this.” Annie handed over the bag containing their takeout dinner as the concierge returned with a large cardboard envelope.
“You might want to contact whoever sent you this,” he said. “They had the building number, but not the apartment number. Usually we mark these ‘return to sender,’ but I recognized your name so I put it aside.”
“Thank you.” She scribbled her signature onto the electronic signing pad. “I appreciate that.”
“What did you order?” Sofia asked, peering at the label as they walked to the elevators.
“No idea.” Annie turned the item over in her hands. There were no distinguishing markings, no information on the label to jog her memory. Just her name and address, along with a sticker that said Do not bend. “Let that be a lesson to you—don’t drink and Prime.”
Sofia giggled. “Drunk online shopping… Now that sounds fun.”
“And you can do it in four years’ time.” The elevator’s mirrored doors opened with a soft swish.
“Seriously, what do you think I should do? Matt wants to go out, but I don’t want him to, like, get the wrong idea or anything.” Sofia fiddled with the clasp on her bag. “He said he’s always getting stuck in the friend zone.”
“The friend zone is bullshit, Sof.” The elevator pinged, and they walked into the hallway. “You’re not under any obligation to date a boy. Ever. And there’s nothing wrong with being friends, so if he can’t deal with it, that sounds a whole lot like his problem. Not yours. You’re not punishing him by saying no.”
Sofia laughed. “Thanks for the advice, Mama Bear.”
Annie dug her keys out of her purse and let Sofia into her apartment. Through the big windows, the sky was turning dark and the city lights shimmered. Annie tossed her keys into a bowl by the door and set the envelope on the kitchen counter.
“I guess I don’t really like him like that,” Sofia said as she started to unpack their dinner. “And he’s a little intense, you know? I felt bad after Emily dumped him and then Frieda rejected him. So when he asked me, I said I’d think about it. But then he started hounding me for an answer.”
It was probably a good thing that Annie lived in Manhattan. Because if she was close to Sofia’s school in Bensonhurst, she might be liable to turn up and teach the little shit a lesson. But that was the thing about Sofia; she had her father’s giant heart. The thought of upsetting anyone always made her worry. It was less of an issue with Allegra, who was only too happy to tell people to fuck off if it was required. But Sofia was Sal’s daughter through and through. Soft, sensitive souls who were ripe for people taking advantage of their good natures.
“A pity date doesn’t help anyone,” Annie replied. “And if he’s hounding you now, what will he be like if you say yes?”
Sofia nodded. “Good point.”
“What do you do if he gives you a hard time?” She stared her sister down.
“Tell him no and walk away.” She sighed, as if being made to recite her times tables. “And if he touches me when I said no, I knee him in the nuts and get to someplace safe so I can call you or Dad.”
“That’s right.”
Sofia opened the containers one by one. They always got dinner from the Chinese restaurant down the street when Sofia stayed over before a Manhattan-based school excursion. There was vegetable soup with tofu for Annie, wonton soup for Sofia, jumbo shrimp with broccoli, sweet and sour chicken, and steamed rice for them both.
Annie was busy shrugging out of her coat and kicking off her heels, shedding the workday like a snake shedding skin. Her bare feet hit the floorboards, and she almost groaned at the feeling of freedom. Nothing like releasing one’s toes from patent-leather hell to make a woman feel happy to be home. That was, until her phone beeped with a text from an unknown number.
It’s Joseph. Can we talk?
She swallowed, her heart pounding suddenly as if the message had triggered her fight-or-flight response. She ran her thumb over a smudge at the corner of the phone’s screen. It had been five days since their “encounter” in Central Park. Five days of wondering whether he’d try to contact her again. Of not knowing whether she’d be more upset if he did or didn’t. She hadn’t changed her number in the last three years; maybe that was a mistake.
Respond or ignore?
“Who’s messaging you?” Sofia asked as she collected bowls from the kitchen. “Is it Darcy? Tell her to come have dinner with us.”
“It’s no one,” Annie lied. “Boring work stuff.”
She dropped the phone into her bag and closed the zipper as if needing to seal the nervous energy inside. This wasn’t something she wanted to deal with right now. Especially since she hadn’t decided whether to tell her family that Joseph was back in town…and that he’d been in her apartment. Her eyes strayed to the couch where he’d sat, hair dripping wet and his cut body barely concealed in her towel. Oh boy. It was not an image that would quickly fade.
Joseph’s name had become a forbidden word in their house after the breakup. She reached for the envelope, desperate for something to distract her. Annie pulled the tab open. Inside was a single sheet of paper. She frowned. Not a piece of paper, actually. She pulled it out. It was a photograph. Of her.
It appeared to have been taken with the webcam in her laptop.
Annie blinked, hoping it was some crazy trick her mind was playing on her. Or perhaps it was a sick joke? A doctored photo? But the angle of the camera was right, and it captured the funky plant she kept in the corner, with the unique geometric design on the pot. In the photo, Annie had her hair wrapped up in a towel, like she did most days when she washed her hair and answered emails while it dried.
“Are you coming to eat?” Sofia asked from the table. She was occupied by her phone and so hadn’t noticed Annie staring at the contents of the envelope.
She quickly stashed the photo in a drawer and sat down with her sister. But her legs wobbled like Jell-O, and she caught sight of her reflection in the decorative mirror across the room. Her face was ashen. Petrified.
Someone knew she was behind Bad Bachelors.
* * *
Later that night, Annie lay awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Normally, she closed her blinds tightly, trying to preserve as much darkness as one could living in a city that sparkled the way Manhattan did. But tonight she had them open, leaving her room in a state of half-darkness that allowed her to see the outlines of everything in her room. With each creak of the building or shuffling sound from the apartment next door, her fists curled tighter into her duvet. Never once had she felt unsafe in her home. Never once had she been the kind of person who worried about bumps in the night.
But that security had been well and truly obliterated.
She’d smuggled the photo into her room after Sofia had gone to sleep, because she didn’t want her sister to worry. But there was cause for worry. Someone had hacked into her laptop and watched her via her webcam. A sick sensation cemented in her stomach.
Someone. Had. Been. Watching. Her.
She pushed up in her bed, pressing a hand to her chest in the hope that it might steady her fluttering heart. It didn’t. The feeling of violation was so strong, it was like her home had been broken into. Her skin crawled, like a thousand beetles were prickling her. All her senses were on high alert, her nerves frayed, her heartbeat uneven and quick.
Annie swung her legs over the edge of the bed and braced her forearms against her thighs, breathing deeply in the semidarkness. The view from her bedroom was partially blocked by another building, and Annie watched the lights flicking on and off in the windows facing her. Shadowy figures moved behind blinds, but some were more careless, leaving their windows uncovered and their rooms bared for her to see, falsely secure in the belief that no one was paying attention.
Her phone sat on the nightstand, calling to her with a siren song.
If someone had hacked into her computer, she needed to figure out how to get them out. But hackers were far beyond her level of technical skill. She was fine with building websites and installing security code and running her antivirus software. But beyond that… Hacking was a specialized skill, and she had no idea how to find out which “door” they’d used to get in. Nor how to stop them from watching her now.
Taking her laptop to a computer repair place would mean letting more people know who she was. That she was the person behind Bad Bachelors. How could she trust some computer-repair guy with that information? What if he’d been reviewed on the site? What if he sold her information to the tabloids…or worse, what if he sold her information on the internet somewhere? To people who could really hurt her? How could she protect herself then?
