child. Spoiled her. Gave her everything, most especially his attention and love.
Alyssa had become a fifth wheel, completely unnecessary and unwanted.
By the time Alyssa hit her teens, Bridgett had convinced her father she was a poor reflection on the Vaughn name and her father’s pristine reputation.
Alyssa couldn’t remember the moment she realized her father despised her. The seed had simply grown until it blossomed into painful understanding. She was a constant reminder of her mother, who’d chosen to run off with a penniless mechanic rather than remain in the opulent world and stifling perfection Alyssa’s father had demanded. Transferring his rage to his daughter had been easy.
He’d never hurt her, at least not physically. It might have been easier if he had. Then maybe someone else would have recognized her pain.
Bridgett had gotten exactly what she wanted—almost all of her husband’s money. When he’d died four years ago he’d left everything to her. Everything except enough for Alyssa to put a nice down payment on her apartment in the Quarter. She never would have been able to afford the mortgage without it.
The irony was that she hadn’t wanted his money. What she’d craved was a father who loved and doted on her the way he obviously cared about Mercedes. But that unfulfilled dream died right along with him.
She could ask Bridgett for the money. Alyssa’s eyes closed on a convulsive gesture of dread. And her stepmother would give it to her just so she could hold it up as evidence of Alyssa’s failure. Her stomach rolled with loathing.
“Don’t even think about it,” Mitch warned, his dark brown eyes flashing. “There’s no way I’m letting you do it.”
“Do what?” she asked listlessly.
“Going to the Stepford Witch is a last resort.”
Mitch knew her so well. She hadn’t even had to voice the option for him to know exactly the hell her head had gone to.
“Uh, I think we’re there, Mitch.”
His fingers hardened, digging into the edge of the table a little too roughly for a moment before easing back. “Not yet. What about the new interactive tourism app? I know you wanted to wait another month or two, but everyone else thinks it’s ready. Deirdre has already spoken to Vance Eaton about it. They’re interested and are excited about New Orleans being the debut city. We could sell it quickly, add a package for support and design tweaks to cover any bugs. Problem solved.”
Alyssa tried not to let the ray of hope tempt her. The warmth of it was difficult to resist, but she didn’t want to talk herself into one bad business decision simply to dodge another.
Mitch sat quietly, familiar with her need to work through all the angles of a problem—or potential solution.
He was right. For the most part, the app was ready. The fine-tuning just required access to the specific requirements of the debut city. With its interactive, party atmosphere, New Orleans was exactly the kind of location she’d known would best utilize the application.
Tourist apps were a dime a dozen, but theirs married the best of social media with the latest information available. Constant updates would be provided, but as people communicated and interacted through the app there would be a continual stream of live information.
A great band was playing at a club? Someone could post pictures, videos and information. The line to get into an attraction was unusually long? People could post and help each other avoid unnecessary waits and wasted time. A group of college students were trying to connect in the crowd of Mardi Gras? Upload a photograph of your physical location.
It didn’t escape her notice that both of the apps she’d focused on so far, at their core, were designed to bring people together. She didn’t need a psych evaluation to figure out where that need grew from. At least something good could come from her lonely existence.
Focusing on one product launch at a time had seemed like the intelligent choice, especially since they’d never done one before, but now they no longer had that luxury.
With a nod, she agreed, “Make the call.”
A sunny smile lit Mitch’s eyes. “I already did.”
Letting out a laugh, Alyssa punched Mitch in the arm. “Bastard. Then why did you even ask me?”
“I was laying groundwork we’d need eventually whether we pushed the timeline up or kept the release date a few months from now. You needed to come to the decision on your own.”
“Right, with a not so subtle shove.”
Mitch shrugged. “It’s the right move.”
For the first time in several days, the heavy weight crushing her chest eased away.
“I’ll get the lawyers involved. Hopefully we’ll have the details hammered out by Wednesday and a check in hand by close of business Friday.”
Alyssa’s gaze searched Mitch’s deep chocolate eyes. She saw the same hope reflected back, which meant maybe she could actually let herself believe in it.
“You wanna tell me what that was all about?”
Alyssa knew instantly what he was talking about, but chose to pretend. “What do you mean?”
Mitch just cut her a glance that silently called bullshit.
With a sigh, she gave in. “I have no idea.”
And that scared the crap out of her. Whatever she’d expected when Beckett Kayne walked into her conference room, it wasn’t the scorching awareness that had flared between them.
Or the interest she’d seen glowing out of those stormy blue eyes. Especially when, the last time he’d seen her, he’d dismissed her like the inexperienced child she’d been.
His parting words rang through her brain, sending a shudder down her spine.
No doubt Mitch saw it. A sound rolled up from his chest, a combination of concern and disbelief. “Be careful, Lys. Beckett Kayne isn’t the kind of man who brings you candy and flowers. He’s rough and unrelenting. He won’t think twice about hurting you. Using you.”
Mitch wasn’t telling her anything her brain didn’t already know. But her body... Apparently, it didn’t give a flying flip.
Maybe to distract them both from that train of thought, Alyssa found herself blurting out words she hadn’t meant to ever say. “I gave a random stranger a striptease last night.”
That bombshell rocked Mitch backward. “Come again?”
Scrunching her nose, Alyssa sagged back into the welcome warmth of the leather chair. She stared at the pale blue wall opposite, better that than Mitch. He knew her too well and would immediately pick up on her conflicted response to the whole episode.
“Last night. I got home late. Had to walk through the crazy crowds.”
“Expected.”
Yeah, that’s what she got living in the Quarter. A lot of residents lived close to Fat Tuesday, but she didn’t have the time or money right now.
“I was so exhausted I didn’t really think about it. I just started undressing, dreaming about collapsing into bed and dealing with the mess in the morning.”
Mitch gave an empathetic grunt. He’d been working the same long hours and no doubt had collapsed bonelessly into his own bed last night.
“Something caught my attention. He moved maybe. I don’t know. But I looked out my window to the balcony across the alley and saw a man standing there. He was almost completely in shadow, a mask obscuring half of his face.”
Just the memory had her words going breathy. The way, even through the distance, his hot gaze had raked over her. The anticipation and tension. Need and excitement.
“I just...kept going.”