Page 2 of The Truth of Us

Fuck.

Why couldn't I get her out of my head? I’d tried sleeping with blonde, blue-eyed women since then, but they all felt like cheap imitations. Knockoffs designed to get me across the finish line.

Shit. I needed to acknowledge the woman actually in the room with me. I wasn’t usually this much of a dick. Forward? Yes. Direct? Absolutely. But downright inconsiderate? Never. I made sure every woman knew the ground rules upfront, what to expect and more importantly, what not to expect. I was the charmer, the face of Northwell. The golden boy who smiled for the cameras and kept our reputation gleaming.

Fuck, she’s still on the floor.

I opened my eyes, reaching down to lift her up by her arms and gently brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek.

“That was great. Thank you...” Fuck, what was her name again?

“Natalia,” she purred, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand without breaking eye contact.

Ugh, the purring. Time to wrap this up.

My phone buzzed on the bar with a text from Theo. He was at dinner with his father and Julian, claiming it was so hilarious that some woman was pulling Julian’s attention away from Richard, and I needed to witness the 'Ice King' thawing in real time.

Under normal circumstances, I’d be there in a heartbeat. But I needed to get my head on straight and figure out how to fix this glaring malfunction.

“I’m so sorry, but something urgent came up I need to handle,” I lied smoothly.

Was it a weak excuse? Yes. Did I care? Not even a little.

“Of course, Mr. Vale.” She trailed a blood-red fingernail down the placket of my dress shirt. “I know how important your time is.”

She had that dangerous, clinger glint in her eye. As I escorted her to the private elevator of my penthouse, I made a mental note to block her number the second the doors slid shut.

I let out a heavy exhale the moment the elevator doors sealed, locking her out for good. Turning back into the quiet space of my apartment, a rare wave of uncertainty settled over me.

I was usually completely grounded in who I was and what I wanted. Was I just getting older? Was the proverbial clock ticking? My best friends, the guys I’d survived boarding school with, and I ran an empire together, but lately, something felt hollow.

What was it about that blonde in New York? Was it the fact that she hadn't cared who I was, but simply enjoyed my company? Was it the thrill of the chase because she hadn't asked for my number, my money, or a second night? I didn’t even know her last name, or whether she lived in the city or had just been passing through like me.

Heading into my walk-in closet, I stripped off my clothes and tossed on my gym gear. I needed to sweat out the irritation and get my mind right.

Tomorrow, I have a meeting with a new PR team to fix how the public perceives the men of Northwell. And tomorrow, I would officially forget the blonde-haired, blue-eyed mystery girl and get back to being myself.

2

ELLIOT

Sitting in Julian’s office the next morning, I continued researching my malfunction under the cover of my phone screen.

So far, I’d come up with two potential solutions. Option one: track down the blonde and fuck her out of my system once and for all. Option two: take a complete sabbatical from sex and focus on other hobbies to see if my appetite returned. Find my joy, as the self-help articles so helpfully put it.

I kept scrolling. How many uncomfortable questions would Rowan ask if I ordered him to track down a woman based solely on her eyes and a first name that may not even be real?

Rowan was our tech and security director at Northwell, and the ultimate vault. We’d all ended up at the same elite boarding school, Blackridge Academy, where the ultra-rich shipped off their sons to become men just like their absent fathers. We hadn't bonded in the traditional sense; we’d survived side-by-side through forgotten holidays, ignored pickups, high-society scandals, and the understanding never to ask for more than someone was willing to give. Life was a transaction, and we’d learned to negotiate early.

Julian already looked completely done with our presence in his office. As Northwell’s lead legal counsel, he was the spine of our dysfunctional makeshift family. Theo, his younger brother, lived to push his buttons, constantly branding him the Tin Man or the Ice King. It wasn't that Julian lacked blood in his veins; it was just that every suffocating expectation from their father, Richard North, rested solely on Julian's shoulders. Theo, as the ‘spare’, survived on deflected humor and weaponized charm. We all had baggage; some of us were just better at hiding it behind bespoke suits.

I glanced up, catching Rowan tapping away on the tablet that was practically surgically attached to his palm. I wondered whose life he was destroying today.

Realizing I’d tuned Julian out completely, I figured he was already halfway through his agenda for the week. Shit.

Right on cue, the door swung open and Theo strolled in, sporting his signature cocky grin. Physically, he and Julian shared the same striking genetics, but their posture was night and day. Unless you knew the oppressive weight of the North surname, you'd never guess they were brothers.

“Wow,” Theo announced, looking around the room. “You’d think someone here worked for a living.”