Driven By Fate

Driven By Fate by Tessa Bailey




Chapter One


Toto, I don’t think we’re in Queens anymore.

Frankie De Luca stepped back just in time to avoid a dancing couple that certainly hadn’t left enough room for Jesus between their writhing bodies. They stumbled toward an elevator located along the back of the dance floor, drawing Frankie’s attention to the massive, golden mouth framing the doors. Welcome to hell? A man sporting an earpiece pressed the button just in time for the doors to open and swallow the couple whole, taking them upstairs to join in the revelry that went on at Serve, Manhattan’s exclusive club for the adventurous. Upstairs was where Frankie was supposed to be headed, but her reflection in the steel doors of the elevator kept her rooted to the spot as the party raged on around her. She’d worn Converse and ripped jeans to a BDSM club. Was she serious?

Two stylishly dressed women brushed past her, giving her curious looks. Frankie’s chin automatically lifted even though she could feel the holes in her jeans widening by the second. No one gave a shit about her clothes during her day job. Hell, her customers couldn’t even see her attire from the other side of the plastic partition. Driving a cab had its perks. A keen fashion sense might not be one of them, but the job paid the bills.

Or most of them, anyway. There was one behemoth expense accumulating over head with way too many zeroes attached. Frankie didn’t do debts. Or charity. Which was what had brought her to Serve that night. She’d come to pay it back.

Okay. That was one reason. The other wasn’t so easily summed up.

Tonight, she’d get some clarification.

Forcing her features into an expression that said I’m supposed to be here, she went toward earpiece-guy, who, upon closer inspection, proved to be just as eye-catching as his surroundings. He lifted a lazy eyebrow at her approach, but she didn’t let his lack of verbal greeting faze her. “My name is Frankie De Luca. I have a meeting with Jonah Briggs.”

“Really.” The man consulted his clipboard. “He doesn’t usually take meetings.”

“Believe me. I know.”

The owner of Serve was notoriously private, despite the recent media circus surrounding his relationship with notable financial journalist, Caroline Preston. It had taken Frankie months to get Jonah to agree to this meeting. In the end, her loose connection to the Preston family had gotten her a fifteen-minute time window, one she planned to use wisely.

“It appears you’ve breached the inner sanctum.” Earpiece-guy punched the elevator’s call button and stepped back. “Congratulations.”

“I’m honored,” she mumbled, doing her best not to stare at the man as she stepped though the doors. When they bumped closed behind her, she jumped a little, then rolled her eyes. Compared to picking up passengers in her cab at three o’clock in the morning, this meeting would be a piece of cake. It was what could come afterward that had her nerves expanding beneath her skin, twisting and crackling. Anticipation or dread? Guess she’d find out.

When the elevator doors opened, she peered into the darkened space, expecting to see an orgy in full swing. Instead, she saw a sprawling, tastefully decorated floor, complete with a lounge area. Several couples were speaking in hushed tones, hands roaming, but nothing she hadn’t seen before in her rearview mirror. How disappointing. With a shrug, she turned down a hallway with several doors on either side. One swung open to reveal Jonah Briggs. Arms crossed over his chest, he looked about as inviting as the subway after New Year’s Eve. Too bad the red licorice scent that wafted off him was a comfort whether he liked it or not.

“I don’t have much time,” he told her.

“Me either,” she returned, bypassing him into his office. An oversized, carved mahogany desk took up most of the space in the first room, covered in neat stacks of paperwork and several framed photos of Caroline Preston, interspersed with others of a young girl. His daughter? There was a second door across the room, and an electric blue glow coming from beneath it suggested monitors or televisions on the other side. “Quiet night out there.”

“Give it an hour.” Jonah took a seat behind his desk, thoughtful eyes flicking over the pictures of his girlfriend, as if it were an unconscious action. “You mentioned over the phone that this had something to do with my daughter.”

Frankie nodded, refusing to let her gaze dip. She hadn’t liked using another person’s weakness to secure the meeting, but desperate times had called for it. This debt of hers would be repaid by fair means or foul. “You wouldn’t have agreed to see me without knowing everything about me.” No reaction. “So you already know that your girlfriend’s family is responsible for sending me to Columbia University. I’m the first beneficiary of the scholarship they set up in their mother’s name.”

Jonah leaned back in his chair. “I might know something about it.”

“Right.” Her response was dry. “I’ve met the Prestons enough times to know they won’t accept repayment from me.”

“A grant doesn’t require repayment.”

“Maybe for some people. But I boned up on you, too, and I know you’re not the type to accept something for free, either.” She gave him a meaningful look. “I never could have done this without them and I’m grateful. But when I graduate, it’ll be on my own dime.”