All We Ever Needed Page 5

  “Thank you. Yes, they are my designs,” Kat returned crisply, her frosty eyes outright rejecting his interest. “I’m fairly new to the industry but excited to be here just the same.”

  The same could not be said for her parents. They were livid when Kat dropped out of a prestigious fashion institute to attend the University of Kansas to receive her Bachelor of Fine Arts in Visual Art. She’d worked her ass off to get accepted and chase her dream with the graduation money Pop-Pop, her maternal grandfather, deposited into her account. Kat stuck to her guns and rode out the parental storm. She’d poured her heart and soul into Vixen and had no choice but to put her money where her mouth was and succeed. Her aspirations banked on it. In the end, her parents chose to support her entrepreneurship.

  Wealthy and influential in their own right, Alexei and Vivienne Romankov were slightly hurt but proud that their daughter wanted no professional assistance from them. Kat hired another public relations firm to represent her, despite the guilt trip her mother heaped on her. Secretly, she suspected her mother, Vivienne, reveled in her daughter’s stubborn streak.

  Kat adored her large family, absolutely worshipped them, and the warm, fuzzy feelings were returned tenfold—almost to the point of smothering her as they hovered twenty-four-seven around her.

  Especially her parents.

  They’d separated when she was a baby, for reasons unknown to her, yet they’d never divorced or even mentioned reconciliation. They also never spoke ill of one another. Alexei and Vivienne were role models that should have written the bible on peaceful co-parenting for Kat and her brothers, Jack, Darby, and Casey. Even if they seemingly had no contact whatsoever. However, they knew everything about their baby girl’s life.

  Down to the fact that Kat was still a virgin at twenty-four.

  It wasn’t like she wasn’t curious about intimacy or held no interest in the opposite sex. Kat most certainly did. And the interest was mutual—just not enough for men to risk losing an appendage or having their faces rearranged by either her father, brothers, or the bodyguard that occasionally shadowed Kat when she was growing up. Back home in Whiskey Row, the word had been put out at an early age that “Princess Romankov” was off-limits.

  At first, Kat was livid by their interference. Not because she was dying to unload her “V card” but because two of her three brothers were the biggest hound dog hypocrites she’d ever encountered. Jack was extremely discreet, refusing to kiss and tell. But those other two…Darby didn’t tell, but he kissed. A lot. He also constantly sported a fresh assortment of hickeys that made Kat wonder if he’d be a potential blood transfusion candidate. Casey’s hair was styled flawlessly when he left for school but upon his return, it was always mussed, and he walked around, preening like a peacock. Their rakish grins and southern charm ensured their private line rang nonstop, an over-flooded hotline of simpering bimbos that giggled more than they talked.

  The more Kat observed her playboy brothers, the more confident she grew in her decision to wait. The thought of being a notch on some dirtbag asshole’s belt was appalling. She was content to wait for the right man, choosing instead to indulge her romantic curiosities in books. It was more practical and disease/disaster-free. Or so she thought. Unfortunately, the books also induced a longing for tempestuous kisses and caresses that guys her own age had never given. Thus, Kat had not lost her head or heart to throw caution to the wind.

  “Before you leave, we must exchange information.”

  “Yes, let’s do that. I was admiring your companion’s ring earlier. It’s a very distinctive style,” Kat remarked casually, tracking down the stylish brunette by the French patio doors. “I love the gold, hammered texture and the open design with its initial insignia. Is that a custom piece?”

  “You’ll have to ask Fawn as I have no clue where she buys her baubles,” Charlie answered.

  They were soon joined by a willowy redhead whose hazel eyes lit up when they landed on Kat. “You’re Katerina Romankov, Sten’s good friend! I’m Summer Birkin, his girlfriend. We’ve been dating for two months now. I’m a tremendous fan of your work. It’s so nice to meet you!” she gushed with a kind smile.

  Kat smiled graciously. “Thank you; likewise. It’s rewarding to be appreciated, and I recognize you from his social media. You make a lovely couple.”

  “Your pictures are gorgeous yet hardly do you justice! You are even more beautiful in person! I can’t believe Sten didn’t even mention you were coming tonight!”

  “Aaah! You’re too kind, thank you! He doesn’t know. I thought I’d surprise him. With our crazy schedules, we haven’t been able to connect until tonight.”

  Truthfully, she bribed Sten’s cousin Andrea, Andy for short, who was also his assistant, with a pair of custom, sterling-silver name earrings for a copy of his itinerary. Kat called her father’s secretary and asked if he’d received an invitation to this event. Once confirmed, she asked her father if he planned to attend. He said no but would make a donation, agreeing that Kat could represent their family—as long as Tuck accompanied her.

  “Summer is also my second assistant,” Charlie informed Kat. “She’s been a godsend around the office.”

  Summer blushed. “It’s such an honor to be able to help the foundation in any capacity, Mr. McCray. Ms. Romankov, will your father be joining us this evening as well?”

  “Unfortunately, he couldn’t make it, but he does send his regards.”

  “That’s such a shame. Perhaps, after you’ve reconnected with Sten, I can fill you in on the endless sacrifices the foundation ensures that those in need aren’t taken advantage of?”

  Summer pressed a hand to her chest and smiled at Charlie with gratitude. “I’m sure we could all learn something from Mr. McCray’s lifelong dedication to make the world a better place for the less fortunate. Wouldn’t you agree, Ms. Romankov?”

  Before Kat could answer, Summer said, “I see that another VIP guest has arrived. I’d better make sure he’s comfortable. Would you both excuse me, please?”

  Kat tracked her through the crowd as she maneuvered it until she reached Fawn and a bald man who took her hand and kissed it. The stranger lingered a tad too long in Kat’s opinion, but her man didn’t seem to find it odd. Charlie went right back to chatting Kat up.

  “Isn’t Summer a peach? Gal’s got the best ideas! I predict nothing but bonuses and raises in her future. Glancing at a point over her shoulder, he added, “Ah! Here’s your friend now.”

  Kat spun around when Charlie stuck his hand out. “Nice of you to finally join us, Ferrara!”

  The ashen man soundlessly shook his hand. His ballooned gray eyes were fixed on Kat as if he’d seen a ghost.

  “Your lovely friend has been keeping me company while you’ve been procrastinating. When you’re done catching up, find me.”

  Charlie released his hand and captured Kat’s. He raised it to his lips and kissed it. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Romankov. Please enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  His shock alone was worth Kat’s attendance. With a saccharine smile, she raised her champagne flute to him while he nervously tugged on his long, chestnut ponytail.

  “Surprise, darling! Aren’t you happy to see me?”

  ***

  Once Charlie was out of hearing distance, Sten Ferrara hissed “How did you even know I was going to be here? You should have just asked me instead of resorting to underhanded tactics to attend. I’m here on business. This simply screams tacky, my dear.”

  “It wasn’t too hard to figure out, considering you post all of your business on the ‘Gram,” Kat fumed. “Let’s bypass the bullshit, shall we? How could you do it, Sten? I thought we were friends and respected and supported each other’s craft!”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Do what?” Sten regarded her with a calculated blankness that had Kat moving forward until they were practically nose-to-nose.

  “Don’t you dare try to continue playing me for a fool,
Ferrara! I’m not going anywhere until you admit what you did, you thievin’-ass motherfucker!” Kat vowed, rage inundating her at his trifling nonchalance. “The entire time you were fake-smiling and encouraging me, you’ve been scheming and plotting behind my back!”

  During her senior year of college, Kat accepted an internship for Boswa International, a world-renowned jewelry house headquartered in New York City. Sten was also interning there, and he’d been the one to pick her up from the airport. Immediately, the duo clicked. They partied and brainstormed their asses off while masterminding how they were going to take the jewelry industry by storm. The last time they’d seen each other was four months ago in New York City for Fashion Week. It was an amazing but hectic time. She and Sten barely had time to meet up for drinks at their favorite hangout, Primos Bar, located in Tribeca. Dimly lit, the interior was classic New York with a twist–mid-century modern and jewel-toned velvet upholstery, dark wood paneling, gold trim, and a slick lacquered bar. It was their favorite hangout and they’d had a ball, kicking it until after midnight.

  Aside from that, they usually connected via text or social media. Lately, Sten had been MIA, leading Kat to believe his absence was due to the new line of men’s jewelry and accessories he was creating. It wasn’t until two weeks ago when she was scouring Haute Style Magazine that she discovered the real reason for his avoidance. There was a picture of Charles McCray and the lovely Fawn wearing a stunning ring that Kat recognized immediately as she zeroed in on the woman’s hand.

  Heart pumping, Kat scanned through the couples’ outfit details. Hurt poured in as she numbly read the words “Ring designed by Sten Ferrara”. She raced upstairs to her studio and grabbed her black leather portfolio that she always carried to work events. The page for that ring sketch and details had been torn out. Belatedly, Kat recalled going to the ladies’ room as soon as she arrived at Primos. She’d shoved her things at Sten and made a mad dash to beat out the happy hour crowd. It was the only time her portfolio had been out of her sight.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sten automatically objected, even managing to sound offended. “You need to calm down, Katerina! I came up with that design on my own. I value our friendship too much to ever entertain such a heinous act. Clearly, you don’t feel the same.”

  But the way he kept brushing at his nostrils with his thumb was a telltale sign of his nervousness. It was what he used to do during the meetings Boswa allowed them to attend before every project presentation. Seeing the familiar gesture further infuriated Kat. That he could so easily deceive her, particularly when she remembered their closeness. How readily she’d trusted him. How tight they were. That was Kat’s fucking problem. She was too dewy-eyed and used to always seeing the good in people. As a believer of kindness and adored by predominantly everyone she encountered in the industry and her family, Kat treated everyone with compassion and respect.

  The humiliation of being so gullible made her skin crawl.

  The good news for Kat was she’d gotten past being hurt, which resulted in bad news for Sten.

  “You’re a liar!” She denounced him loud enough to interrupt conversations around them, making heads swivel in their direction. Kat refused to be silent. Sten needed to be held accountable for his actions. “And not even a decent one! You stole my design and tweaked it as your own!”

  Kat smirked at the panic flaring in his eyes. “Soon, the world will know it, too. It’s the kind of thing woke people tend to notice. Shame on you for stealing from me and trying to deceive your consumers. Shame on me for assuming you had any integrity.”

  “For the last time, I didn’t steal anything!” Sweat beaded near his hairline. Sten swiped at it with one hand and yanked uneasily at his collar with the other.

  “Bullshit! If you didn’t steal it, how was Fawn’s ring created exactly to my specifications?! Your designs are good, but that’s all they are.”

  “Are you saying that I’m not talented?” Affronted, Sten’s face mottled with genuine indignation this time. “I’ve been in this game longer than you and work just as hard! Who the hell do you think you are?”

  Tossing her hair over both shoulders, Kat raked him up and down scornfully. “An original, bitch, that’s who! Don’t put words in my mouth, either. Your work speaks for itself. What you fail to comprehend is there’s a difference between having a signature style and being formulaic, which is pretty much basic. You can barely get away with calling it classic! I’m sure you know which category you fall into if you’ve resorted to copying another designer’s work.”

  For a moment, Sten looked as if he wanted to strike her. The “I could fuck your ass up with my pinky” expression on Kat’s face convinced him to trash that idea. Suddenly, Sten’s shoulders collapsed, and he abandoned all pretenses.

  “Listen, Kat…you don’t understand,” he feebly explained. “I didn’t mean to…I needed an idea and your portfolio was there…”

  “Fuck you! There is no explanation to justify your actions! I trusted you and would have assisted where I could if you had only asked. We were friends. Now, you’re just a thief, and I’m pressing charges. This is not going to be a good look for your new company or reputation.”

  Sten grabbed her wrist and tried to pull her to him. Kat resisted, and tossed her champagne directly in his face, ignoring the shocked expressions spreading around them.

  “Take your damn hand off me!”

  He released her, begging, “You can’t do that, Kat! Please. I’m sorry, alright! I’ll call Haute Style and have them correct it. I promise you’ll get the credit!”

  He grimaced and glanced down at his feet, unable to meet the eyes of one of his closest friends and idols. “I never dreamed the ring would get the coverage that it has! I’ve gotten numerous requests for it, and since I haven’t answered any of the emails, I’ll direct them all your way. This was a one-off, Kat! I swear it’ll never happen again.”

  “I want a fully signed confession and one damned good reason as to why I shouldn’t blast your ass all over the internet.”

  Sten lifted his head and pleaded remorsefully, “I know. You do deserve one. Please meet me later? I rented an Airbnb for the weekend. I’ll give you everything you want. Here and now is definitely not the time to get into it. Especially with Summer here. She’s heading back to New York tonight. I really like her, and she believes in me. This would kill her. I swear you can trust me on this. Will you please?”

  Kat weighed her options. Half of her was ‘‘Team Fuck All The Way Off, Bitch!’’. The other half wanted to know what could make him act so drastically out of character.

  “Why would I hand you another knife to stab in my back, Sten? We’re never going to be friends again. I will never vouch for you or promote shit you do. After I get what you owe me, stay the fuck away from me! Clear?”

  “Yeah, clear.”

  His eyes were filled with such desperate sadness that Kat had to steel herself against him and storm away.

  God, she was such a pushover.

  ***

  “He didn’t show. I’m heading over there.”

  “I don’t like the idea of you goin’ alone to confront him,” Tuck argued. “I ran a check on the place, and there’re no surveillance cameras at all on the property that’s located off the main road. The closest neighbor is at least a mile away. He’s desperate for you not to tell his secret. Desperate people do reckless shit to accomplish their endgame. Wait for me to wrap up here.”

  Kat could hear him puffing on a cigar and loud country music blaring in the background. Easily, she envisioned him in a strip club with the ‘‘talent’’ hanging all over him.

  “No, I’ll be fine. He’s fifteen minutes away, and we’d planned to meet down the street from his rental. I’m just going to get the confession and hear him out. Easy-peasy. In and out.”

  “Nothin’ is ever easy-fuckin’-peasy with your ass! Stay put and let me finish conductin’ business here, Romankov. I ain’t too far and can
be there within the hour.”

  “You should take that ventriloquist act on the road, Rydell. You sound just like my daddy, except I know for a fact that I left him at home.”

  “And he will be my first call if you don’t stay put!”

  “You say one word, one word to anyone, Tucker Rydell, and I will forever become the Wall of Jericho between you and Autumn,” Kat threatened. “By the time I’m done, you’ll rank having desirability somewhere between a lice-infected booger-eater and a serial killer.”

  “You. Are. Evil! Everyone thinks they have you pegged as this docile sweetheart! They couldn’t be farther from the truth!”

  “I’m not responsible for other peoples’ opinions of me.”

  “I’m on my way right now!”

  “Love you, too. I’ll text you the address.”

  Kat hung up, sent him the address, and slid out of the booth. She paid the cashier for her coffee and headed to her rental car. Twice she called Sten’s phone and got no answer. Kat programmed the address into the car and followed the directions, arriving at her destination in less than fifteen minutes with no traffic. Sten’s silver Land Rover was parked in the driveway. Seeing it raised Kat’s temper all over again. She hopped out of the car, her nude heels clicking metrically on the cobblestone driveway. Raising her fist to pound on the front door, Kat noticed that it was cracked, the slightest hairline. She pushed and quietly, it opened.

  Something wasn’t right.

  Kat stepped into the foyer cautiously. Calmly, she reached into her purse and extracted a can of mace and a folded black baton. Her mother had given both to her on the first day of high school.

  “A woman should be ready to protect herself at all times, darling.” Vivienne ran her fingers over it lovingly before handing it to her only daughter with a word of advice: “This has given me much pleasure, and I want you to carry it always. Should you have to use it.” She clasped her daughter’s delicate chin, tipping it up so that their eyes met in silent understanding. “Make ‘em tell their friends about you, babygirl.”