B-Tech Enterprises is my father’s business. After graduating from LAU for the first time, I became the president of the corporation until my sister, Evie, met Jake. Jake was a much better fit for the role, and I had no problem passing along the responsibilities so I could focus on receiving my doctorate.
My father would never have signed off on the idea if Jake was anyone else. But since my brother-in-law has the same passion for technology my father does, it didn’t take long for Jake to be welcomed into the role with open arms.
My career change, however, was a much more difficult pill for my father to swallow. And ever since I paid nearly eight hundred million dollars to create the Lions, he’s even less impressed.
Too bad I don’t give a shit.
I have multiplied my trust fund hand over fist since I turned twenty-one and gained access to the money. If I learned anything from my endeavors, it’s to trust my instinct. And for the past year, it has been screaming at me. LAU’s hockey organization has earned a lot of support over the past decade. Despite my father’s lack of faith, the town is ready for a professional team. I know it.
I should have driven to SeaBird, but I walked, too frustrated with Scarlett’s text to get behind the wheel. Good thing it only took me ten minutes. Besides, I needed the time to think. To figure out my next move. Scarlett and I have been dating for a year and a half. We met when I was in Milan for a business meeting. Scarlett was modeling for a designer who was dating one of my business associates and joined us for dinner. Almost as soon as I laid eyes on her, I took her back to my hotel and fucked her. We've been together ever since.
She told me she was with Gianna tonight, but Gianna’s at an event with my sister and brother-in-law. Which means Scarlett lied. Again.
It’s growing more difficult to push them aside. The lies. The impromptu trips with friends. The canceled dinners.
My hands clench at my sides as I reach my building and dip my chin at the doorman.
“Good evening, Dr. Buchanan,” David murmurs, opening the door.
“Goodnight, David.” I slip past him and head inside. When I enter the elevator, I press my keycard against the lock pad and push the button for the top floor as the doors slide closed. They open a few moments later, revealing my penthouse.
The blinds are drawn, and the kitchen light is on, casting shadows along the slate-colored walls and chrome finishes. Not a thing is out of place. It’s cold. Lifeless. Just like me. Slipping off my suit jacket, I lay it on the back of the black leather couch when my phone rings.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hey, it’s me,” Gordy replies. “I sent you all the photos and wiped them from the internet. Ms. Rutherford made her OF account inactive a few months ago, but I went ahead and deleted it permanently.”
“Thank you.”
“Sure thing,” he replies. “What do you want me to do with her other accounts?”
“What accounts?” I growl.
“TikTok, Instagram, BeReal…” He continues rattling off the social media platforms as I pinch the bridge of my nose. “She has quite the following, sir.”
“What kind of following?” I flip the call to speaker and pull up the photos Gordy forwarded to my email account.
“Depends on the platform, but across the board? A little more than three million. I can only imagine how much she made on OF because the subscribers alone had to bring in at least a hundred grand a month.”
My eyes zero in on the toned body in a white, lacy thong in the photograph. The picture is cut off at the girl’s throat, but I would recognize her tattoo sleeve anywhere. The intricate swirls. The flowers on her shoulder. The word “Pixie” inked along the inside of her delicate wrist. Her back is angled toward the camera, showcasing her long spine, thin waist, and round ass usually hidden beneath her clothes.
My dick jerks at the sight.
“Sir?” Gordy’s voice cuts through the haze of lust like a hot knife through butter.
“What content does she post on the other platforms? Is it like the photos you sent?” I demand, unable to tear my attention from the image despite the shot of disgust pulsing through me.
She’s on more platforms?
My blood boils at the thought.
Stupid. Fucking. Girl.
She really thought this was a good idea? Posting naked photos on the internet? It doesn’t matter if Gordy took them down. He can’t hack into every single person’s server to delete any downloaded pictures from their computers.
What the hell was she thinking?
If she needed money, I would have given it to her.
“Nah, she doesn’t post stuff like this on her other platforms,” Gordy answers. “More like makeup tutorials. Life as a bartender. Exercise hacks. Those kinds of things. Honestly, they’re pretty good. I can see how she’s built such a big following. The girl has a knack for marketing.”
I stare at the photo for another second, then close the email app on my phone.
“So, what do you want me to do with the other accounts?” Gordy prods. “Keep or delete?”
“Keep them,” I decide.
“All right. Do you need anything else, sir?”
“That will be all. Thanks, Gordy.”
“Sure thing.”
3
MIA
My lungs are on fire as I sprint down the sidewalk, finishing the last stretch with all my strength. I’ve always loved running. The way it turns my brain off. The way it distracts me from all of life’s lovely gifts. The way it feeds me endorphins and man, I’ve been needing them more and more lately.
When I reach the fire hydrant at the end of the street, I slow my pace and attempt to catch my breath, my mind finally receiving the hit of dopamine I’ve been craving. Wiping my forehead with the back of my hand, I bend down and touch my toes before realizing I’m most definitely not alone.
What the hell is my landlord doing here?
“Mia,” Gertie greets me. Her hair is still in curlers despite it being almost two in the afternoon. A fluffy floral robe is wrapped around her pudgy body as she shuffles closer to me, clutching a newspaper to her chest.
“Oh, hey, Gertie.” I look at the house we’re in front of, and my brows knit together. “Did you move?”
I’ve run past this house a hundred times since living in this neighborhood and never run into Gertie. Ever. I would’ve found a new running route as soon as possible if I had.
Gertie glances at the tan stucco townhouse with daisy-filled planter boxes and freshly trimmed grass, looks back at me, and nods. “My son finished remodeling this one a few weeks ago, so I decided to move in for the time being. You know how it is, dear. Sometimes it’s best to stay close to your investment properties.”
“Good point.” I motion to the adorable house. “Tell your son he did a great job.”
“He did, didn’t he?” She steps closer to me. “Unfortunately, this property will have the same requirements as the one you’re being evicted from. I’m sure you understand since you’ve graduated and all. I think it’s best to leave the housing available for students currently enrolled in college. No hard feelings, of course.”
I shake my head. “Oh, I wasn’t asking to move in or anything––”