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Excerpt

The event photographer my assistant hired corrals me and Checkmate’s other two founding partners for a photo op. Dexter Moore, in charge of our retail division, flanks my left side looking metro-stylish, having traded his coveted white socks and flip-flops for expensive Italian shoes to look the part of his job. Unlike in our college days, he now manages to brush his dark hair and wears a neatly trimmed mainstream-hipster look. Oscar Strong – Oz, as we call him – head of Research and Development, takes the spot on my right, dressed more comfortably in jeans and a trendy blazer. He’s also mastered the uses of a brush since our punk-ass-kid days are over, but he goes for a looser flow-and-comb look for his light brown hair. Khakis are a thing of the past for all three of us, seeing as how that was our standard uniform when we were members of our college chess team.But all three of us kept the glasses. Sort of a pact between bros, so we never forget our roots and what it took to get here.

“Let’s make this quick. There’s a problem in the lab, so I gotta go,” Oz says. Really, he just hates getting his picture taken.

“Your sister just walked in.” Dex is the opposite and loves smiling for the camera. The flash goes off once, twice, three times in quick succession.

My eyes trek to the entrance of the rotunda. Since I’m six-two, I can see over most of the crowd. My little sister is a full foot shorter than me, and it’s impossible to find her in the ocean of guests all talking, eating, and drinking. But a path parts in the crowd, heading in our direction, and even though I can’t see her, I know it’s Ava. She’s determined and far too bold for her own good. Which makes me batshit crazy when it comes to protecting her from douchebags who will take advantage of her and break her heart.

The photographer tells us to strike a different pose, and we do. Oz grumbles under his breath. Dex strikes a pose worthy of a GQ fashion shoot. I sigh and smile and watch for my sister as she makes her way toward us.

The path weaves left then back right, and finally Ava reaches the fringe of the crowd. She’s five years younger than me, and a protective instinct surges through me because I’ve been her guardian since our parents were killed in a car accident eight years ago. That’s right: I’ve been her brother, father, and mother all at once, since I was twenty-one. I’m told the family resemblance is unmistakable since we have the same vivid blue eyes and honey-blond hair that has a natural wave to it—physical description courtesy of my personal life-stylist at Checkmate’s anchor retail studio on Fifth Avenue.

Okay, fine. Wardrobe, haircut, and really cool Armani glasses courtesy of the personal life-stylist too.

Ava waves, smiles, and then I see her. Not her, as in my little sister. Her, as in the brunette trailing behind Ava, trying to keep up. And I remember that Ava said she was bringing a friend who works in public relations. Thick dark brown hair is pulled into a ponytail that brushes over one slender shoulder. Her clothes are elegant and professional with a subtly chic edge to them. She’s looking down, like she’s making sure not to step on any toes. Then she breaks free from the crowd too, and her head darts up to look around just long enough for me to glimpse the stark contrast of cobalt eyes.

Cobalt. My favorite element on the Periodic Table.

As they approach, Ava opens her arms wide to give her big brother a hug. But I’m not actually looking at my sister. I’m looking over her shoulder. Her friend’s gaze lifts to mine, locks on, and holds me mesmerized. The way she carries herself tells me she’s confident and self-assured. Probably smart as a whip. And then it happens. Everyone else around me melts away as she pulls a plump, red lip between her teeth. Long black lashes flutter downward to break our eye contact, and I know.

I’ve never met her. I don’t even know her name yet. But that small gesture with her lip and the downward brush of her long lashes tells me she’s not sure what she wants from a man. She’ll figure it out, though. The women who are confident in every other area of their lives always do. I also know that when the light bulb finally switches on, she’s going to ask me to fuck her. And I won’t be able to say no.

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