Unworthy (The Worthy Series Book 1) Read online

  He released a breath. “I guess you’re right.”

  “Is that what’s bothering you? Or are you looking for a way to find imperfections? Remember, Ian, Cat doesn’t need to be perfect. She only needs to be perfect for you.”

  He smiled at his mom and gave her a hug. “You’re right. As always.”

  “You can buy me a diamond bracelet later in thanks,” his mother said, a smile lurking on her face.

  “Hah, hah.” He gave his mom a last arm squeeze and then went to go grab Cat for another kiss under the mistletoe, much to the pleasure of his family who hooted and whistled.

  Two days after Christmas, Cat ran to grab the front door on the second buzz of the doorbell. Amy must’ve been in the shower because she hadn’t answered when she’d entered the house two minutes ago. Cat had only been here a few minutes to change clothes for work after spending the night at Ian’s and the latest I.D. Productions event the previous night.

  She put her hand on the doorknob, but the glass sidelights on either side of the door showed a tall, unfamiliar man. He was dressed in a pink button-down shirt and pressed grey slacks despite the seventy-five-degree temperature even at eight in the morning. Only bankers in Miami dressed in suits.

  What had her pulling her hand off the knob were the tattoos on the man’s neck and knuckles and the ugly scar cutting across his cheek. And his eyes. They were dead and soulless.

  Baroness von Fancy strolled in, her tail held high, gave Cat a disdainful meow for having been absent the past few nights, then strolled to the kitchen. “Nice guard cat you are,” she muttered at Fancy’s back.

  “Can I help you?” she asked through the glass, ready to run for a phone to call the police.

  “Is Daniel Ross here?”

  She felt her eyes widen. “Who are you?”

  “I’m a business associate of his.”

  Shit. Seeing as Danny hadn’t had any legitimate business endeavors ever, the man had to be a dealer or maybe someone worse.

  “Does he owe you money?” she blurted.

  “Fifteen K.” The man’s lips spread in the scariest approximation of a smile she’d ever seen. Cocking his head, he said, “I gave him some time because it was Christmas and I’m a nice guy. You must be his sister, Catherine. Right?”

  She gave a bare nod. Her body was no longer fully under her brain’s control. She was an automaton giving basic responses, when inside, she was shrieking with fear. This was the kind of person her brother dealt with? About whom Ian had been warning?

  He gave a smile so disgusting her stomach lurched, and then he compounded it by saying, “You would make good payment.”

  “I don’t have the money,” she managed to say.

  He looked at her, starting with her face then down to her toes, stopping at every point between, particularly loitering on her breasts. “I didn’t say anything about money. I said you would be good payment.”

  Before she could come up with a response, or vomit, he held up a slip of paper with some writing on it. “Give this to your brother. He has twenty-four hours. Or…” He gave a flick of his eyebrows and another leer at her, then sauntered off to a surprisingly classy black BMW with tinted out windows. The car was probably payment from another “client”.

  She watched until the car was well down the street and then opened the front door to grab the paper with shaking hands. There was a name and a phone number. She crumpled the paper and slammed the front door, closing her safely inside, though she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel safe again.

  That man had come to her home, made veiled threats, and let her know that either her brother paid him or she was in for a horrifying new reality from which she wasn’t sure even Ian could keep her safe.

  Holy shit. Ian. What was she going to tell him? He thought Danny was in rehab, instead, she’d been hiding him here and spending all her time at Ian’s apartment. God, she was an idiot, one who was unworthy of an amazing man.

  She went to raise her hands to cover her teary eyes, but her right wrist caught on her clothes thanks to her new Christmas bracelet. She glanced at it and carefully unhooked it from the loose thread. The bracelet was worth a lot. Maybe even enough to make a dent in the payment of the scary man at the door.

  No. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

  It was bad enough that she’d borrowed money from Ian to pay off Danny’s medical bills. She’d never betray his trust by selling his gift. The man at the door’s image pushed into her mind and she shuddered, then straightened.

  This was Danny’s problem. And he was going to be the one to solve it.

  Except when she stormed into her room to confront him, he was huddled, shaking over her garbage can upending the contents of his stomach.

  “Danny. Are you okay? Are you sick?” Anger socked her. “Or high again?” Where had he gotten more drugs?

  He shook his head while still holding the trash can up to his face. When he could speak, he gasped out, “Withdrawal.”

  For an instant, her heart stopped and then started beating at double time. In all the years since her brother had lost his path, he’d claimed to be going clean several times, but not once had she ever seen physical evidence of it. Until now.

  She rushed to his side and placed her hand on his shaking back. His T-shirt was covered in cold sweat so she ran to the bathroom to grab both a dry towel and to wet a washcloth.

  “Thanks,” he muttered, as she handed them to him during a break when he could lie back against the pillows and talk.

  “You’re really doing it?” she asked. “Getting clean?”

  He nodded, and the movement made his skin visibly pale.

  She handed him the trash can again and went to the kitchen to get a garbage bag and paper towels. As she passed the front door on the way to the kitchen, she refused to look out the front windows to keep her mind off the problem that was suddenly squarely back in her court.

  If Danny were legitimately trying to get sober, she needed to give him every tool to help. Making him try to find fifteen thousand dollars wasn’t helping. If anything, it would send him directly back into a path that would lead to a downward spiral.

  She held up her right wrist to look at the bracelet again. She loved this bracelet, and even more, she loved the man who’d clasped it on her wrist, but she didn’t see another option. The bracelet could solve all her problems. She’d tell Ian she lost it. It could fall off while she was doing her job. She constantly carried stacks of clothes. A bracelet could easily get torn off her wrist.

  Slowly, she walked back with cleaning supplies to help her brother, her mind made up. She’d live without her bracelet, but her brother would be healthy again. No brainer.

  The next day she popped back into the store at her “lunch break” trying to hide her tears. She headed straight to the back office ignoring Amy who was with a customer and stuck her purse in the locked desk door Amy used.

  This was not a day to get robbed seeing as her purse had $2500 in it thanks to her little errand just now. Despite it breaking her heart, she’d done it. She’d pawned the bracelet Ian had given her for Christmas and hoped the money was enough to get scary drug dealer off their backs.

  Before shutting the purse in the drawer, she pulled out her phone and a crumpled piece of paper and texted the number on the paper. A response came quickly.

  9 pm. Slip 55 Coconut Grove Harbor.

  Oh hell no. She was not getting near a boat at night with the scariest man in Miami. She texted furiously. 6 pm computer store. Dadeland.

  Done

  She breathed her first full breath in a day staring at the words. She might even find a smile after work when she’d handed over the envelope of cash. Then another text came through and stole her breath.

  I’ll get you on my boat one day, Pussy Cat.

  Delete. She dropped her phone in her purse as if Danny’s horrifying creditor could see her through it and slammed the desk drawer shut on it.

  Ian cocked his head to try to catch Cat’s
attention yet another time, but she was too busy chatting it up with some obvious tourists. Her petite body moved like a whirlwind, flying this way and that, smiling at the female partygoers, flirting with the men. Flitting and flirting with everyone but him.

  She’d shown up late and looking exhausted at tonight’s event. Instead of having a little alone time to grab dinner and a drink together before the night’s craziness began, as usual, she’d shown up minutes before the night started in earnest.

  Ian was already in his booth with Drew and Drew’s chosen lady for the night. When Cat rushed in, she ran straight to Lisa to hug her and get set up for the night. She rushed over to kiss him on the cheek and then said something about having to run.

  “Your girl’s working hard tonight,” Drew observed.

  Ian tore his attention from Cat to his partner, who still was pissed at him about the loss of the Calle Oche location. “Yeah.”

  “Like she’s trying to make a month’s worth of tips in one night.”

  He didn’t reply but spun to watch her again. The women didn’t tip Cat, because most of them thought she was one of them, another partygoer, but a fun stranger who encouraged them to dance or get their drink on.

  The men realized she was there to serve and tipped accordingly. Some more than appropriate.

  Ian had learned to repress his instinct to go tell those men that Cat was not available by the hour or the night, but tonight, his anger was on a hair trigger and it was because she wasn’t shutting the men down as usual. She was reckless with her flirting, almost as if she might take up one of the offers.

  He kept an eye on the situation both for her safety and because he was man enough to admit he was jealous.

  When yet another man’s hand lingered on her ass too long, his gaze on her cleavage, Ian rose. “Time to shut her down,” he said to Drew, who looked resigned at the prospect of yet another Ian and Cat scene at an I.D. Productions event.

  He pushed through the crowded dance floor to put his hand on the man’s wrist. “She’s not for you,” he said, giving in to the impulse to apply pressure to his wrist. “Try Carolina.” He jerked his head toward the fake redhead at the bar who was happy to give you her time for an agreed upon fee.

  Cat spun to look up at him, but he ignored her until the other man got the message and faded back into the crowd. “What are you doing, Ian?” she asked, almost looking angry.

  “Sending the idiot packing. Unless you wanted to be paid for sex with a stranger. What the fuck is going on with you tonight, Cat?”

  She didn’t meet his gaze. “What are you talking about? I’m working?”

  “Oh yeah? ‘Cause usually when you work you have time for me.”

  “That’s what this is about? You’re jealous because I’m doing my job?”

  He blinked at her. “Never mind. I’m not going to fight with you tonight. Come say hi when you get a minute.” His sarcasm bled through loud and clear and he left her staring at his back as he stalked back to his table. He didn’t make it there before she caught up to him and grabbed his arm.

  He allowed her to spin him back to her and was rewarded with a kiss full on the lips that more than made up for her ignoring him all night. As usual, the annoyance that had dogged him all night faded and the rest of the crowd disappeared. He gave her the kiss he’d needed to bestow, pressing his lips onto hers letting everyone in the club know she was his.

  More than letting others know, it was about reminding her that she mattered to him and vice versa. When he felt his message was delivered, he backed off and gave her a private smile meant only for her eyes. “Go do your job, baby.”

  Then he turned back to his table once she’d sauntered away on her dangerously high heels that she seemed to walk in as easily as sneakers.

  “Nice,” an unfamiliar voice said in his ear before he headed back to his table.

  He turned slightly to see someone he’d never spoken to before, but knew by sight. If you did business in Miami, it was smart to know Juan Benestein. He had a finger in a lot of pots, none clean, and you only got in bed with him if you were desperate.

  Ian had never been that desperate. Nor had Benestein ever put in an appearance at an I.D. Productions party. It wasn’t his scene. From what Ian knew, the guy favored private parties on his yacht, which he’d taken as payment in a deal gone sour. He’d earned the yacht and the scar on his face.

  “She’s a beautiful girl,” Benestein said, his gaze following Cat’s.

  He stiffened. Benestein had a wife and a girlfriend. What did he want with Cat? Beside him, the guy chuckled. “Calm down. I’m not here to steal her from you, though I could if I wanted.”

  He didn’t give the asshole the satisfaction of a response; instead he acted as if the guy was there to party. “What’s your drink?” he asked. “Want a booth, and I can make sure some of the prettiest women in Miami find their way over.”

  Benestein raised the brow over his scarred cheek. “I’m not here to stay, though I’ll have to reconsider in the future. You put on a good party. If you ever manage to convert Luis Feralta’s place, send me an invite for opening night.”

  Ian nodded, having no intention of inviting Benestein anywhere, and annoyed that he knew about the failed deal. His guess was that Feralta’s nephew, Ernesto, had been running his big mouth. “Then what can I do for you?”

  “I’m here to deliver a message.”

  “Didn’t realize you were an errand boy, or have there been management changes in your organization?” He waited for a tense second and then earned a laugh.

  Benestein clapped him on the back. “This is a message I wanted to deliver personally. Tell your woman that the money wasn’t enough. I’ll want full payment very soon.”

  Ian felt as if the message had been delivered with a sledgehammer to his gut, but he did his best not to betray one flicker of surprise. “Message delivered. You can go now.”

  Benestein may or may not have said something else, but Ian didn’t hear over the sudden ringing of his ears and inner voice telling him to go find Cat. Now.

  He stalked back over to where she was dancing with a gaggle of girls out on the town looking for trouble. They’d started off shyly drinking at a table in the corner, but Cat had persuaded them out onto the dance floor. Their presence encouraged men to buy drinks as liquid courage to approach them and dance with them.

  Ian ignored the female hands on his shoulders lightly tugging him this way and that to dance with one of the women. He had eyes for only one petite blonde.

  “What now?” she said when he was in front of her.

  “Back room. Now.”

  He didn’t wait to see if she followed. His tone had been stark enough to know it brokered no protest. She was behind him and then she was next to him, her hand on his wrist. “Ian, can this wait until later?”

  He didn’t slow. “No.” His gaze flickered on her bare wrist. “Where’s your bracelet?”

  She made a good show of feigning dismay that her bracelet must be lost and should she go search the dance floor, but he didn’t buy it. Not pausing, he picked her up, her chest balanced against his shoulder, and carried her to the back of the club for privacy. “Stop lying. You pawned my bracelet.”

  They reached the office, where he set her down and slammed the door behind him. “Didn’t you?”

  Her gaze met his dead on. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Why?” He held up a hand. “No, don’t answer. I already know. You had to pay off Benestein.”

  She nodded, and he glanced away not wanting to see the tears that were forming in her eyes.

  He strode around the desk and collapsed in the black leather swivel desk chair. “What am I supposed to do, Catherine? I can’t trust you. Do you even love me or was it all a game to get what you needed to take care of your precious brother?”

  She physically recoiled as if he’d slapped her. “Don’t,” she whispered, but he was on a roll.

  “Is he even in rehab? Or was that a lie, t
oo? The money I loaned you before?”

  “They beat him up, Ian. He had broken ribs. What was I supposed to do?”

  “Tell me the truth,” he shouted. “I deserved the truth.” He would’ve preferred Benestein had his men beat the crap out of him behind the club. It couldn’t have hurt as much as learning the woman he loved had lied and screwed him.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks, taking her black mascara with them. “Yes. You did. I’m sorry, Ian. I’m so sorry.”

  “Please go,” he said and had to wait agonizing seconds until she whispered I love you and fled before allowing his own tears to form. Maybe he deserved this. It was his penance for sleeping with her, then abandoning her and her brother.

  No. He didn’t deserve to be lied to and deceived. The bracelet was a Christmas gift, and she fucking pawned it. He’d given up his dream for her and she’d betrayed him. He was done with Catherine Ross for good.

  Today was not the day for customers to leave their rejects on the floor of the dressing room. Cat was in the kind of temper that might have her stabbing the next customer with a hanger.

  She peeked in at a recently used dressing room and groaned. Did the women of Miami not understand the function of a hanger? Normally she didn’t mind dealing with discarded clothing, because she’d discovered she loved working retail. She loved chatting with customers and seeing their happy faces when they tried on something fabulous. She also loved spending her days with Amy, who was creative and funny and a really supportive friend.

  But today, nothing was going to make her happy.

  Ian had made it clear last night that they were done. Kaput. She didn’t think he’d ever forgive her for pawning the bracelet, but he wasn’t willing to listen. And when he’d looked at her with those cold eyes and told her to leave, she hadn’t felt like taking the time to explain.

  He’d looked much the way he had when she was eighteen and he’d been fastening his shorts, telling her that she should enjoy college and he’d see her at Thanksgiving break. He’d been distant and his brain was already on to the next thing.