If The Shoe Fits (Some Girls Do It Book 8) Read online

  If the Shoe Fits

  Some Girls Do It Book Eight

  May Sage

  Contents

  1. Helene

  2. Helene

  3. Cade

  4. Helene

  5. Cade

  6. Helene

  7. Cade

  8. Helene

  9. Cade

  10. Helene

  11. Helene

  12. Cade

  13. Helene

  14. Cade

  15. Helene

  16. Cade

  Epilogue

  If the Shoe Fits

  Some Girls Do It Book Eight

  Photography by Lindee Robinson

  Edited by Theresa Schultz

  Created with Vellum

  Helene

  "I was on fire."

  On the other end of the phone, Helene's sister chuckled. “It’s been a while since you went on a bender on a Saturday night. Where are you partying? Maybe we could meet up."

  She didn't get it. To be fair, Helene hadn't exactly expressed herself clearly. "No, Cassie, I mean I was literally on fire. My hair's still singed."

  Numb and in shock, she accepted the bottle of water a uniformed fireman handed her.

  Helene had always been a sound sleeper. She used to joke fire alarms wouldn't be able to rouse her. Not so funny now. What had woken her up less than an hour ago had been the heat, and the stench of her fluffy slippers burning. Reacting in seconds, she'd grabbed her burning hot phone on her bedside table and rushed out, not even putting on clothes. Hence why she found herself without shoes, in tiny smurf shorts, braless under a tank top old enough to bear witness to her emo phase, in front of her burning building.

  The phone was okay, and cooler now, so she’d called Cassie.

  "What?!"

  Knowing Cassie needed a little more to go on, Helene drank a sip of water, and tried again. "There was a fire in my apartment. I think Sarah started it—you know how bad she is at cooking in the middle of the night."

  Every weekend, Sarah prepared burgers, fries, and bacon to soak up the ungodly amount of alcohol she drank. And every single time, they ended up charcoal black.

  An actual building fire was a first, though.

  "Oh my God, are you okay? Where are you? I'll come to you."

  "In front of the house. An ambulance is taking a few of us to the hospital. Can you meet me there? I don't have anything on me, just my phone."

  Helene hated that she had no choice but to ask her sister for help. At least Cassie wouldn't rub it in her face, like their parents would. They had a thing about reminding her that her life could be a lot better, a lot easier, if only she’d let them plan it for her.

  Helene wasn't the brains of the family—that was Cassie. What she had was flawless skin, even in high school, perky boobs, a pretty mouth, and long eyelashes. Her mother had thrown her in front of suitable men since the end of college, and her father kept inviting his employees over, encouraging her to smile and "get to know them." Neither Cassie nor she had ever had interest in owning a building contracting company, so his idea of keeping the business in the family when he retired was to have her hook up with one of his top employees.

  They meant well. They were worried about her because at thirty-one, she was still sharing a crappy apartment with a roommate and in the same tax bracket as she had been five years ago, when she'd first joined the cosmetic company where she worked. Bijoux Skin has given her a steady pay increase every year, but in all that time, she'd received no promotion, although she was working her ass off. The first couple of years, she hadn't minded at all. Everyone was supposed to do their time as a brand rep, put in the work in the street, before hoping to get out of the communal working space, right? By the third year, she was starting to get impatient. She worked harder, barely ever taking the time to hang out with her friends. She started to take additional responsibilities, like training newbies. This year, a girl she'd trained, who had been there for just six months, moved to brand manager. And Helene only got a pat on the back for outselling everyone in her team. She couldn't deny her parents had a point. Her chosen path wasn't getting her anywhere.

  And now, the little she had was burning to ashes before her eyes.

  "I'm on my way."

  "Thanks, Cass."

  She hung up and threw her head back, eyes closed.

  "You okay, ma'am?" One of the paramedics asked. He was a kindly graying man who looked too old to be working at four in the morning.

  She bobbed her head, although she didn't even feel close to okay. She'd lost her home. She had a bit of money in her savings that had been meant for a summer holiday trip—the European vacation she'd wanted all her life. She'd wanted to go for her thirtieth birthday, but she hadn't had enough money last year. Now, that money was going to go into a new house deposit, and she was probably never going to see the Eiffel Tower. She couldn't kid herself into thinking that she'd see any of her deposit from the landlord, especially if Sarah had indeed started the fire. She doubted her insurance was going to reimburse any of her things, either.

  Maybe she should stay with her parents for a little while. Regroup, save some money on rent. They lived on Long Island—the commute into Manhattan was doable. The very thought made her want to shave her head and run down Fifth Avenue naked.

  Might as well entirely embrace madness.

  "We're going to get you to the hospital now. Can we contact anyone for you?"

  "I already called." She waved her phone. "Hey, did everyone get out all right?"

  He smiled at her, not unkindly. "Don't worry, everyone is accounted for, that we can tell."

  "Have they said where the fire came from?" Helene tilted her chin toward the firemen, still at work with their fire hoses.

  The paramedic shook his head in disbelief. "Someone left burgers in a pan on a gas stove and went to bed, by the looks of it. Can you believe that?"

  Could she ever.

  Helene mentally kissed thousands of bucks goodbye. It was definitely Sarah.

  Time blurred as she rode the ambulance, and got rushed into the hospital.

  She was pondering the mess that was her life, in the waiting area of the hospital, when Cassie burst in, annoyingly perfect even at this time of night.

  Her twenty-seven-year old sister used to wear clothes that drowned her petite figure, and style a hair like a librarian—not the naughty kind either. Over the last four years, she'd utterly transformed, changing into a confident, entirely self-aware bombshell. Her sleek blonde bob and bright red lips made her look like she belonged on a magazine. And she'd been on several. She wore Louboutin pumps and a little black dress. Clearly, Helene had interrupted a party.

  As soon as she spotted her, Cassie rushed over, walking with the panache of a catwalk model on her four-inch heels. "Oh my God, Helene, how are you doing? Have they seen you yet? Did you inhale loads of smoke? We need to get you something to drink. Water, coffee, hot chocolate?" Words rushed out of her mouth in a continuous flow, as they always did when Cassie was nervous.

  Helene managed to crack a smile. "I'm fine, I think. Maybe in shock. They haven't seen me yet. I don't think they will for some time." The hospital's white-and-green waiting room was packed. "You should go back to your party, really. If you could leave me some cash for a cab, I can…"

  She could what? Get to Long Island? She grimaced.

  "Don't be an idiot, Helene." Cassie sat next to her. "I'll stay with you. You're sure you're fine? Don't you feel thirsty? Hungry?"

  Helene shook her head. Numb was what she felt. And numb was good, given the fact that the alternative was full-blown panic. Cassie's next question got her attention. "Ha
ve you called Mom and Dad, yet?"

  Helene's eyes bulged. "No way. You're not calling them either. It's the middle of the night. And you know how they get."

  The last thing she needed was a lecture right now.

  Cassie bit her lip. "They'd want to know."

  "Why? I'm fine," she insisted. "No need to worry them at this time. Tomorrow's soon enough."

  Her sister conceded her point. "I have to text Carter. He's worried about you, too."

  Her perfect sister's perfect husband. Helene could believe that the guy was worried for her. They got along just fine. When Helene had first heard that her sister was going out with Carter Harris—the Carter Harris—she'd thought that the appeal had been his appearance, or even his wallet, but Carter was fun. He liked to chill to popular movies, go to the theatre, and had an appreciation for old rock. More importantly, he was madly in love with Cassie. From the start, he'd been good for her. She burst out of her shell thanks to him. Helene had nothing but respect for him. Although she had to admit, he intimidated her. Carter was too wealthy. He and his friend discussed million-dollar investments over drinks. Helene had stopped accepting Cassie's invitations because their circle might as well be another species, as far as she was concerned.

  "What lavish party did I interrupt? You look lovely," Helene said.

  "We were just hanging out at Trick and Lucy’s, don't sweat it." Another intimidating power couple, though like Carter, they were surprisingly nice, in person.

  "When I hang out with my friends, I wear sweats." That wasn't exactly accurate: Helene wasn't hanging out with anyone at all, these days. She went out with couple of old college pals on weekends, occasionally, but they weren't close enough to spend time at each other's places.

  "We went out for dinner before," Cassie explained, typing furiously on her phone's screen. She shoved the device in a round clutch bag, and smiled up to her. "Carter asked Vera, the new housekeeper, to prepare one of the guest rooms for you. He says you can stay as long as you'd like."

  Helen felt her cheeks heat. She wasn't surprised that the offer had come from her brother-in-law rather than Cassie; he was more practical, while Cassie would have thought about her emotional needs, first. "That's really nice. I don't have anything on me. I'll get my bank to send me new cards, and start looking for a new place Monday. I'll be out of your hair in no time, promise."

  Her sister rolled her eyes. "As long as you'd like," she emphasized. "If you stayed a year, I'd be delighted. Plus, the house is too big for us, anyway."

  She was right there. They'd bought a ridiculously gorgeous townhouse overlooking Central Park.

  "All the same, I need to find a place soon." After a beat, she added, "Without Sarah."

  She might have to get another roommate, given how expensive NYC rent could be, but if she did, it'd be someone with fewer proclivities toward pyrotechnics.

  She was seen three hours later. The doctor said her vitals were good, and she didn't appear to be in shock, surprisingly. They offered to observe her for the new few hours—when Helene declined, they recommended she avoid driving, and made sure someone was available to help her in case she needed it.

  "Like anyone drives in the city," Helene grumbled.

  Cassie straightened her spine. "I'll stay with her all day. She's coming home with me."

  Helene could only sigh. "You've always liked to play nurse." Cassie was a natural caregiver—she always made sure everyone around her was comfortable.

  "And for once, you have to let me," Cassie replied smugly.

  Helene

  The elegant town car slowed to a crawl in front of the grim, gray TriBeCa building where Helene worked.

  "Thanks for the lift," Helene said, beaming at the man seated by her side.

  With his gray eyes and his dark wavy hair perfectly styled, her sister's husband gave off a serious Superman vibe, as Cassie often said.

  He peeled his gaze away from his phone long enough to glance at her. "I can pick you up around six."

  Helene rolled her eyes. "I feel like a six-year-old on my first school day. Thanks, Daddy, but I can find my way back."

  Carter laughed. "All right. Play nice with the other children."

  A taxi blew its horn impatiently. Helene opened the door, exchanging the warmth and comfort of the car for the light trickle of rain of a September night.

  Helene didn't mind the rain. She was just glad to have escaped the heat of the summer in the city, finally. She stopped to ponder whether her apartment could have been saved if it had rained the previous night.

  Probably not. The whole building had been destroyed in the span of mere minutes. Funny how she hadn't truly understood how destructive fire could be until then. It had seemed like a scene from a movie.

  "Did you find yourself a sugar daddy?"

  Shaken from her reverie, she noticed the woman standing next to her and snorted. "I wish. That's my sister's man, not mine."

  Em, one of the girls down in admin, grinned knowingly, eyes still on the car that sped away in the distance. “Bald and twice her age?"

  "Hot and in his thirties," she corrected. "He's kind, and treats her like a princess."

  The admin woman grimaced. "Not fair. Some women have all the luck."

  Any other day, Helene might have defended Cassie, pointing out that it wasn't just luck that had made her sister's life a modern fairy tale. Cassie was kind, and talented in her own right. Her ever-growing list of published novels could have afforded her a town car with a driver, too, if she'd been one for such status symbols. Left to her own devices, though, Cassie preferred catching a yellow cab, if she couldn't walk to her destination.

  But after seeing her life reduced to ashes, and then squatting in her sister's luxurious townhouse for a weekend, she could only nod. Cassie truly had all the luck.

  "Hey, do you want to go for drinks after work?" Em offered as they walked in the elevator.

  They weren't close, but they'd gone to a bar once or twice before.

  Em was one of these women who worked to live, not the other way around. She did what was demanded of her in her working hours, and left at five o'clock on the dot. Then she chilled with friends, attended concerts, watched plays on Broadway. Helene had always wondered how she managed that kind of lifestyle on an assistant’s salary. Assistants at Vandorf, Inc. earned even less than Bijoux Skin sales associates. But it wasn't her problem.

  "That sounds great," she replied, not eager to go back to the house.

  She'd give her sister as much privacy as she could during her stay.

  Helene had spent the weekend researching and bookmarking apartments. She was going to need a roommate again, unless she suddenly won the lotto, or didn't mind commuting from New Jersey every morning. She had sent a few inquiries, but no one had gotten back to her yet.

  "All right, see you after five!"

  The doors opened on the second floor, in front of a handful of men in suits. Em didn't so much as give them a glance before getting out. Helene stepped aside to make room for them. She recognized Byron Vandorf at first glance. A still-handsome man in his fifties with salt-and-pepper hair, he was the older brother of their boss, Emily Vandorf.

  It wasn't a secret that Bijoux Skin was funded by the rich entrepreneur, who'd wanted to help his sister out—hence why their office was in the dreary Vandorf tower, but Helene hadn't ever seen him anywhere other than at Christmas parties. If he ever came to the office, he stuck to the meeting rooms on the top floor, and she'd never gone higher than the fourth floor. Bijoux Skin had the entire fourth floor, and could call the admin assistants on the second floor, or the IT techs when the need arose.

  The other guys must be execs, or investors. Helene stepped farther away, practically pressing herself against the steel walls.

  The elevator moved again, and door pinged and opened on her floor shortly after. Now cornered behind a wall of suits, she cleared her throat. "Excuse me."

  The man closest to her looked down, startled, as though
he hadn't noticed her until then. His coal-black eyes bore into hers, and didn't let go. He was tall—hovering several inches over everyone else in the elevator—and definitely didn't look like the kind of man who should wear a suit. She could imagine him half naked, sweating, with a great, big sword in hand, like an actor from Vikings. His dark hair was longer than what was fashionable in the financial district. But although the air he gave off was closer to barbarian than businessman, he owned that fancy suit. It must have been tailor made, to fit a man as broad and muscular like it did.

  The elevator doors started to close. Panicking, Helene started to move forward, despite being blocked by the giant and all his peers. "It's my floor."

  He reached out to the control panel and pressed a button. The doors opened up again. His black eyes still not releasing her, he stepped away to let her through, without a single word.

  "Thank you," she said, practically running through the doors.

  Passing by him, she was hit by a heady, unfamiliar scent that she wanted to bottle and spray on her pillow. Something spicy, with wood and leather tones.

  Out of the elevator, Helene dared looking back, meeting those eyes again. They were still fixed on her, unabashedly.

  Who was he?

  The doors closed, and she shook her head, willing herself to focus. She was at work, for heaven's sake. Now wasn't the time to drool over a hot Viking. Or fantasize about his incredible scent.

  Thankfully, she had plenty of distractions waiting for her on her desk.

  Over the last few years, she'd established a relationship with several haute couture makeup artists, and they generally hit her up at the same time. She answered emails and returned phone calls, sorted out samples and sales, and before she knew it, it was three o'clock. She only had time to run to the closest cafe and pick up a nasty sandwich—all the good ones had been sold earlier. She ate it on her way back up to the fourth floor. There wasn't anyone with her in the elevator this time. Helene didn't know if she felt reassured or disappointed.