By Any Other Name Read online

  He tried to apologize some more, calling her name, but she was already off the steps and heading toward her car. She thought he didn't care who her father was, that he wouldn't be intimidated by the name… by the reputation.

  Turned out, she had been wrong about him.

  What had started out as a bad hair day, thanks to a malfunctioning alarm clock and dreary late spring weather, quickly spiraled out of control to arguably one of the worst mornings of Genna's life. By the time she reached the criminal court building in Chinatown for her hearing, she was drenched from a sudden rainstorm and running ten minutes late.

  She sprinted down the hallway, her new black Jimmy Choos rubbing blisters on her feet, and crammed into the first elevator she came upon, skidding through just in time before the doors closed.

  Her back was to an older man in coveralls, the scent of stale cigarette smoke and sweat surrounding him. She held her breath so not to inhale the stench, but she could feel every breath of his against the back of her neck as he wheezed. She tried to inch away, tried to get some space between them, but every time she shifted he seemed to move with her, pressing himself into her, brushing against the curve of her ass and driving her short skirt up further.

  Worst elevator ride ever.

  The man got off on the tenth floor, glancing back and giving her a playful wink. She shuddered as the doors closed again. Ugh, gross.

  The elevator seemed to stop on every single floor on the way up, so by the time she made it to the twenty-third, she was actually fifteen minutes late for her hearing. She sprinted into the courtroom, shoving the door open so hard it disrupted the judge in the middle of proceedings. All eyes turned to her as awkward silence permeated the room. Oops.

  "Sorry," she muttered to no one in particular as the judge turned his focus back on the case at hand. Her eyes scanned the courtroom, seeking out the lawyer her father had hired, and found him standing up front… with Jackson. Wonderful.

  Jackson looked uncomfortable, dressed in a too-big black suit that did no justice to his physique; his hair was cut neatly, not the shaggy mop it used to be. She was so fixated on how he looked that she nearly missed the judge's words.

  "This case is adjourned in contemplation of dismissal. I'm setting a court date for six months from now. If you can stay out of trouble until then, all charges will be dropped."

  The judge banged his gavel, a small wave of murmurs flowing through the courtroom as Jackson smiled, his shoulders sagging with relief. He turned to leave, striding right by Genna, so close their arms brushed together, but he didn't so much as even look her way.

  The entire thing reeked of Primo.

  "Next on the docket is The People versus Genevieve Galante."

  Sighing, Genna tore her gaze away from the door where Jackson had disappeared out of and approached the lawyer still lingering at the front of the courtroom. He smiled politely at her as he shifted through his stacks of paperwork, putting Jackson's on the bottom as he moved hers to the top. "This should be quick. The judge just needs to sign off on the plea agreement we made."

  "Why does Jackson get to walk free and I have to plead guilty?"

  "That's just the way it worked out," he replied, his voice casual, but Genna caught the hidden meaning in the words. That's the way Primo Galante arranged it. Regardless of if her father wanted to admit it to her or not, she knew half of the people in the courtroom were in his pocket in one way or another, whether they owed him favors or he paid them handsomely. How else did the man, career criminal, manage to stay out of jail all these years?

  "Miss Galante," the judge started, peering at her through a pair of thick wire-rimmed glasses. "The agreement made between your council and the district attorney for the lesser charge of unauthorized use of a motor vehicle in the third degree, a misdemeanor, is approved. The court hereby sentences you to 120 hours of community service and a $1000 fine. Your driver's license is also suspended until at which time you can complete your sentence."

  The bang of the gavel echoed through the room before they quickly called for the next case. Genna's lawyer motioned for her to step out, but she just stood there, gaping at the judge.

  "Is there an issue, Miss Galante?" the judge asked, eyeing her peculiarly when she refused to budge.

  She opened her mouth to argue, to point out how harsh that sentence was, but the lawyer cut her off and spoke up instead. "No problem, your honor. My client's grateful for the court's leniency today."

  Stepping in front of her, he physically led her away from the defendant's table and through the courtroom before she could really protest. She stepped away from him once they reached the hallway, throwing up her hands in disbelief. "You call that leniency?"

  "It could've been worse," the lawyer said. "You could've gone to jail for the felony."

  She glared at him as he casually strode away. "Could've been better. I could've gotten away with it like Jackson did!"

  Frustrated, she sulked down the hall, in no rush now that everything was over. It was in and out within a matter of minutes. She approached the elevators, groaning when she saw a small crowd stuffing into one of them. She paused there, deciding to wait, and pressed the down button as soon as that one was gone.

  In a matter of seconds, a second elevator dinged behind her. Genna spun around to look at it just as the doors opened, relieved to see wide-open space, the bright lights illuminating the shiny floor. She started toward it, her footsteps briefly faltering when she caught sight of a lone guy waiting in the corner.

  Holy shit.

  They stood eye-to-eye with her in six-inch heels, but he wasn't looking at her at all. His attention was fixed solely on a Blackberry as he typed away at the tiny keyboard. He casually relaxed back against the railing, legs crossed at the ankles, his sneakers so new even the bottoms were pristine white. His serious expression looked to be etched from the smoothest stone, his sharp jawline covered in a dusting of hair, but his skin appeared so, so soft, like the slickest satin. A warm tan glow swaddled him beneath the lights. He wore a pair of designer jeans and a long sleeved white button down, a cream-colored cable knit sweater overtop of it. His dark hair was perfectly styled or else effortlessly untouched, and just long enough to give the locks a slight messy wave. The tips of her fingers tingled with the urge to caress.

  This guy… no, this God… had been zapped straight off the pages of GQ and transplanted right here in her elevator.

  Thank you, Jesus, Joseph, and motherfucking Mary.

  The elevator starting to close right in front of her face finally spurred her to action. Genna darted forward so quickly it captured his notice. Without breaking his stance, his eyes shifted from the phone to her, catching her gaze when she stopped in front of him. A trance fell over her as she stared into his eyes, golden splotches around the iris that faded like flames into the brightest blue, like an abstract Picasso painting come to life. A shadowy ring surrounded them, framing the vibrant color in darkness.

  Never in her life had she ever seen eyes like his.

  The elevator closed behind her as she stared at him, utterly speechless. It's rude to stare. Even a kindergartner knew that. But she couldn't look away.

  He stared back boldly, arching a single eyebrow at her, a slight hint of amusement cracking his stony expression. The sight of it, the subtle curl of his lips into a smirk, made her stomach furiously flutter.

  This day just got so much better.

  They started moving as Genna swallowed thickly, trying to get her wits about her, trying to think of something to say to break the ice. Her lips parted, a shaky breath leaving in the form of half a word, when the elevator violently shuddered, alarming her back into silence. The lights flickered, before abruptly, they started plummeting. Her heart was in her throat, hammering hard, the movement nearly knocking her off her feet. She stumbled in her heels, but a strong hand grasped her, stabilizing her enough so she could grab the railing.

  Floors flew by in the blink of an eye before an ear-splitting s
creech echoed around them. They ground to a sudden stop, jolting her again, the motion making her vision blur as she gasped. "What the fuck was that?"

  "Emergency brakes." His smooth voice held not a hint of anxiety. His accent was restrained, hardly enough for her to notice. New York, yes, like her own, but it held a slight hint of something else in it. New Jersey?

  "Did we just…?" She shook her head, frazzled. "Are we…?"

  "Stuck?" He stepped past her, the smell of his cologne—subtlety sweet and entirely sensual—infiltrating her senses. "Yeah, I'd say so."

  He pressed the call button on the panel. When nothing happened, he repeatedly pushed the red alarm button. Genna could hear the alarm going off, the siren echoing through the elevator shaft. After a moment, he stopped, running his hands along the doors and gripping them in the center, prying them open just a crack to look out, but there was nothing to be seen.

  They were trapped between floors.

  "Just great," she muttered, reaching into her purse for her phone. She pulled it out, holding it up, the signal flickering between one measly bar and no service.

  Hello again, bad day. Should've known you weren't done fucking me yet.

  She continually struggled to get service, holding the phone up as high as she could reach, as the guy retook his spot in the corner and pulled out his Blackberry. She watched him incredulously as he started typing on it, just as casual as he had been before. He cut his eyes at her as he finished, slipping the phone back into his pants pocket. "You're wasting your time. You'll never get a strong enough signal to make a call from in here."

  "So, what, I shouldn't even try?"

  He shrugged a shoulder. "I wouldn't."

  "We're trapped in an elevator," she said, stressing the fact that they were trapped. "Maybe you're cool with that, I don't know. But this has the makings of a bad R. Kelly song, if you ask me."

  Before the guy could respond, his phone chimed. He pulled it out just far enough to glance at the screen. "Like I said—not enough signal to make a call, but just enough to send out a message."

  "You got ahold of someone?"

  "Yeah."

  She stared at him, shocked, when he planted himself on the grimy floor, his back pressed into the corner. How could he remain so calm?

  "You might want to get comfortable," he said. "Knowing this city, it'll probably be a while before they get to us."

  Genna stubbornly stood there for a few minutes, her feet starting to ache in the high heels, aggravating her blisters every time she shifted position. Sighing, resigned, she finally kicked them off, discarding them in the middle of the elevator. She sat down against the wall diagonal from him, tugging on her skirt and crossing her legs to keep herself covered, but she was pretty sure she flashed him the goods on accident. Damn short skirt.

  "Great," she muttered. "I just can't catch a break."

  "Bad day?"

  "The worst."

  "Ah, I doubt that," he said. "It can always be worse than it is."

  Rolling her eyes, she gazed down at her hands and picked at her nail polish to distract herself. It was only two of them, but there was very little ventilation in the elevator. She could already feel the air warming up. "You sound like my lawyer."

  "Your lawyer, huh? Were you here for a case?"

  "Yes."

  "What did you do?"

  She hesitated, considering lying, but thought better of it. Why did she care what he thought? She didn't know the guy. "Stole a car."

  "You?" he asked incredulously. "A car thief?"

  She cut her eyes at him. "Technically, my boyfriend did it… or my ex-boyfriend, anyway. He walked away with barely a slap on the wrist, while I got enough community service to last a lifetime."

  "That doesn't seem very fair."

  "It's not," she said. "But whatever, that's just my luck today. Late for court, get fucked over by the Justice Department, and then the elevator tries to kill me. I'm pretty this day ends with someone shoving me in front of a train, which I'll probably have to take now, since the judge revoked my license for good measure."

  "Wow." He seemed taken aback. "You weren't exaggerating."

  "Told you. Worst day ever."

  "I'd offer you moral support, but well…" He laughed to himself. "My morals are questionable at best, so how about I buy you a drink when we get out of here instead?"

  His words made her smile. "That's nice, but I'm not old enough to drink."

  He hesitated. "How old are you?"

  "Eighteen."

  "Ah, that's not bad. You're an adult. Besides, I said I had questionable morals, didn't I?"

  "True." She felt the flush on her cheeks as she gazed at him, seeing the sincerity in his expression. "How old are you?"

  "Old enough to buy you that drink, if you're up for it."

  "Okay, uh..." She paused. "I don't even know your name."

  "It's Matt."

  "Matt, like short for Matthew?"

  "Short for something, yes."

  "Well, nice to meet you. You can call me Genna… Genna with a G and not a J. It's short for something, too, you could say."

  "Genna."

  The sound of her name from his lips sent a chill down her spine. She should've been upset, trapped in such a confined space with a virtual stranger, one whose eyes seemed to pierce through her with a scary intensity, but she oddly felt at ease. She liked the way he looked at her, the way he looked through her, like he really saw her.

  People didn't look at her that way.

  People always looked at her and saw her last name.

  "So, Matt…"

  "Call me Matty," he said. "It's what my friends call me."

  "Matty," she repeated. "What brings you to criminal court?"

  Dear God, don't let this stunning creature be some kind of perverted creep. I can't go out with a creep. Okay, maybe I can. Depends on how creepy. Ugh, please don't be creepy.

  "Kidnapping," he said. "They found a girl tied up in my trunk."

  Her eyes widened. Okay, that wasn't creepy. That was fucking insane.

  His expression shifted before she could respond. He let out a laugh. "I'm kidding. My brother's on trial."

  "Your brother kidnapped a girl?"

  "No." He paused. "Well..."

  She gasped, eliciting another laugh from him.

  "I'm messing with you. He just got into a little fight. Nothing big, just a run-of-the-mill neighborhood scuffle."

  If she had something within reach to throw, she would've hurled it right at his head. "That's not funny!"

  "Yeah, you're right, it's not," he agreed. "For the record, though, I only tie girls up when they ask me to."

  His voice ventured into playful but there was a serious note to his words that made her flushed skin glow brighter. Not creepy, but maybe a little freaky.

  Now freaky I can date.

  Looking away from him, she bit down on her bottom lip, trying to get herself together. Warm was putting it mildly. She could feel the sweat start forming along her brow. It was getting hot.

  Sighing, Matty pulled his sweater off, tossing it on the elevator floor near her discarded shoes. Genna glanced over at him again as he shoved the sleeves of his white button-down up to his elbows. Vibrant color shined from his skin like a stained glass window woven into black etchings on his thick forearms. Tattoos. His arms were covered in tattoos. Genna let out an involuntary shaky breath, staring at them, captivated by the intricate designs.

  Huh, so the God has a little bit of Devil in him...

  "So tell me about yourself, Genna."

  She grudgingly tore her gaze from his arms, meeting his eyes again. "Uh, there's not much to say. I've already spilled my guts to you."

  "You told me about your bad day. Tell me about your good days."

  "My good days?"

  "Yes."

  "Well... I guess I steal cars on my good days."

  He laughed, slouching as he stretched his legs out. "Have you stolen a lot of cars?"

/>   "Just the one. Guess I don't really have many good days. They're not all bad, they're just... days. That probably sounds stupid."

  "No, I get it. Sometimes you just do what you gotta do to get through them."

  "Exactly." Gorgeous and understanding? Impossible. "And my family, well... let's just say my father doesn't make it easy sometimes. He has all these rules and expects life to be lived to his standards, and I'm just not very good at following directions."

  She was rambling. Ugh, why am I rambling? She hardly knew this guy, yet she was baring her soul like a dying hooker in confessional.

  "My family's the same way," he said. "I like to think there's always a positive side to everything, though."

  "Not always."

  "Yes, always," he countered. "Even on the worst days, you get something out of it. Like today. You got something out of today."

  "What?"

  "I don't know. A criminal record?"

  She narrowed her eyes at him. "Funny."

  "It happens to the best of us," he said playfully. "I'm just saying, sometimes good things come from bad things. I'm stuck in an elevator, but I've got a beautiful girl here with me, so I'm focusing on the girl and not the fact that I'm crammed in a tiny box. Because rest assured, if you weren't here, I would've been climbing through the trap door in the ceiling by now."

  Genna's eyes darted up to the ceiling. Trap door? "Can we do that?"

  "With the day you're having? No."

  She peered at him across the elevator, seeing the amusement in his expression. He was enjoying teasing her. "Okay, your turn, then. Tell me about Matty."

  "Not much to me." He shrugged. "I recently graduated college with a degree in communications."

  "And what does one do with a communications degree?"

  "Communicate? I don't know." He laughed to himself, a bitter edge to the sound. "Doesn't really matter. I minored in business analytics, though. I moved back home last month to help out my family, so that part's been a little more helpful on the job front."