I entered the study and shut the door, hoping I didn’t reek of sex.
It was bad enough that my hand was coated in Natalie’s arousal from fingering her after the dungeon, but as soon as Natalie had taken off, Erin appeared and decided I needed to be taken care of.
Fifteen minutes later, after some sanitizer and a spritz of cologne, I’d done my best to erase all signs that I’d wandered through a sexual playground on my way to see Phoebe. Even if I was her only hope, a twinge of guilt fired off as I spotted her standing by the fireplace, rubbing her arms together and looking anxious as she waited for news about her kid.
She turned as soon as she heard the door shut, a mixture of hope and trepidation written across her face.
“Marcus!”
“Hey, Phoebe,” I said, slipping my hands in my pockets as I took a few steps into the room.
She approached me, still hugging herself. “Erin said you had news?”
I nodded, halting a few feet away from her, self-conscious that she might notice a stain or smell. “Yeah,” I said. “I have a private investigator on retainer. After I left last night, I had him track down Jim. The good news is that he sucks at hiding his tracks. My guy found him in hours. He’s in a town not far from your hometown in South Dakota.”
Phoebe put a hand to her mouth and gasped. “He always hated it there! Why would…”
She trailed off as she looked past me, lost in thought.
“Not sure what he’s doing there,” I said when it looked like Phoebe wasn’t going to finish her question, “but both of them are fine. My guy has a man watching them, and if Jim leaves, he’ll follow them. For now, they’re in a cheap motel.”
“God.” Phoebe put a hand to her forehead, clearly upset. “They’re already so far away… and Jim’s probably just feeding Nate junk out of vending machines.”
My first thought was that eating junk out of vending machines and staying in motels might seem like a cool adventure for a little kid, but Nate was severely attached to Phoebe, and Jim didn’t have the temperament to deal with toddlers. I doubted that eating candy for dinner would placate the kid all that much.
“What happens next?” Phoebe asked.
“Well,” I said, “We could get the cops involved… have them show up and do a wellness check. The problem is, Jim is Nate’s legal guardian, so I don’t know that there's much the police could do unless Nate has…”
I didn’t want to upset her by finishing that sentence.
“...signs of abuse,” Phoebe finished my thought.
“We could try it,” I said, giving her a tense smile.
“Is that my only option?”
“Well,” I said, hesitating as I considered the best way to describe the next option. “I could get my guy to bring Nate back for you. We could probably have him back in less than twenty-four hours.”
“That,” Phoebe snapped at the idea. “That one.”
“Well, it comes with some problems—”
“Please, Marcus,” Phoebe said, stepping closer as she stared up at me through dark lashes. “I want my son back.”
“I know,” I said. She was close enough for me to lay a hand on her shoulder and squeeze it gently. “It’s just that… it could be perceived as kidnapping, and we could end up facing serious legal troubles.”
“Like… they could take my baby away?” Phoebe’s voice sounded on the verge of cracking. “How is that fair? Jim took him!”
“No,” I said. “I wouldn’t let that happen. I’ve got an army of lawyers who could bury him in court fees. We would win. You just need to know that there could be complications if we do it that way.”
“But I’ll get him back?” Phoebe asked.
If Psalter could extract me from the middle of Norwegian forests, kidnapping a small child from his father would be a cakewalk.
“My guys are good at this sort of thing.”
Phoebe stared back at the fire and contemplated her options, and I took the opportunity to admire her half Native American features. Firelight danced in her golden eyes, and pearlescent white flashed as her teeth worried at her bottom lip. She was in shape for a stay-at-home mom and had a natural beauty that was characteristic of a woman in her early thirties, who was showing signs of maturity. On closer inspection, I could see remnants of her youthful twenties still lingering in her face. ‘Wholesomely beautiful’ was a perfect term to describe her.
“If the police show up,” she finally said, “Jim will leave as soon as they’re gone.”
She finally looked back at me. “Just get him back to me, Marcus. I don’t want anyone hurt. I just want Nate. I’ll worry about the rest later. Can you do that?”
I nodded. “Of course. I’ll have them move on it as soon as possible and notify me once he’s safe. How does that sound?”
Phoebe fell the remaining few steps between us and crashed into my chest, wrapping her slender arms around me and squeezing tight. “Thank you, Marcus!”
I hesitated a moment before settling my arms around her waist. I clasped my hands at the small of her back and nestled my nose into her hair. Our embrace was more intimate than it had any right to be. Before I was wealthy, we’d always resorted to small talk in the hallway and an occasional hug, but we’d never been close enough to hold each other like this.
Well, except when she kissed me the last time I was in my old apartment. At the time, Jim had been in the picture, and they’d clearly had a falling out. Now that her husband had run away, I was acutely aware that their relationship was over, leaving me holding an eligible and exceedingly attractive single mother in the middle of my office… alone.
There wasn’t anything overtly sensual about the way we held onto each other—just a grateful woman hugging the man who was helping get her child back. I kept reminding myself of that as I felt her press herself into me and sigh. Thank God I’d fucked Erin before coming in here. It meant there wasn’t a risk of Phoebe feeling what would have been a guaranteed boner after remembering that kiss we’d shared.
I pressed my lips into the top of her head and murmured, “Don’t worry, Phoebe. My guys will get Nate back safely, and by this time tomorrow, he’ll be back with you.”
She looked up, forcing me to lift my face from her hair just in time to keep my lips from brushing her forehead.
“Thank you,” she said with a watery smile. She blinked back tears. “You’ve been so good to me… I don’t know what I would’ve done…”
“It’s no problem,” I said.
“Once I have him back, I’ll start looking for places to stay… and a job.”
“Do you not like your apartment?” I asked.
“It’s so nice,” Phoebe said, “but I can’t stay there. It’s way too expensive to—”
“Like I said… don’t worry about it. It’s yours, if you want.”
“I can’t—”
“And you don’t have to look for a job, either.”
After all the time spent watching Phoebe put up with Jim’s crap, wishing there was something I could do, I felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction at heaping blessings on her… making up for my inability to help in the past.
She looked like she was about to cry. “You know I can’t do that.”
“You can if I’m asking you to. It’s the least I can do after watching how he treated you over the last year or two.”
“That’s not on you.”
“Just let me do this,” I said.
“Marcus… it’s too much!”
That was fair. I probably would have felt the same way. “What if I offered you a job and made your apartment part of your pay?”
She searched my face as if looking for any sign that I was playing some kind of cruel joke on her. Finally, she said, “Are you serious?”
“Of course,” I said.
“What kind of job?”
I hadn’t gotten that far. Based on what I knew of Phoebe, she didn’t have much in the way of business skills—she’d always been a stay-at-home wife and mom. I knew she was good with plants, and kept a clean and tidy house… and I did have a massive house, as well as a really nice rooftop garden.
“My housekeeper is a little short-staffed and could probably use some extra help. I’ve also got a garden that needs to be maintained. Interested?”
She didn’t immediately respond, and as I met her gaze, I could feel as if she were searching for something.
Eventually, she buried her face in my chest and began openly weeping.
I hesitated, my hands hovering over her back, unsure whether to wrap them around her or not. “Is… that a yes?”
She nodded emphatically, keeping her face buried in my shirt as she cried.
I eased my arms around her shoulders again and simply let her unload all of her emotions. After all, she’d just found out she was getting her kid back after having him stolen from her, had acquired a job, and a place to live… all in one fell swoop. I couldn’t blame her for being overwhelmed.
As for me… it felt fucking fantastic to do something completely selfless for someone in need without expecting anything in return.
It felt gloriously human.
***
A few minutes later, I opened the door to my study to escort Phoebe back to her room when I saw Helen, Erin, and Henry Psalter waiting. Psalter and Helen looked deep in discussion, but Erin was simply leaning against the wall, waiting for us, wearing a red and white striped bikini which had been on Bobbi until recently.
Phoebe was a little taken aback by the presence of all the people near the door, but Erin kept her attention as she bounced off the wall and approached us. “I hope those are happy tears!”
My ex-neighbor gave her a weepy smile. “They are.” Then she hesitated, looking Erin up and down. “Is that a different suit?”
“Wardrobe malfunction,” Erin said dismissively. “So… you guys have a solution?”
“We do,” I said.
“Mrs. Lucas,” Helen said, stepping next to Erin. “I’m Helen VanCamp—Mr. Upton’s lawyer.” She offered Phoebe a hand.
Phoebe hesitated and then shook her hand.
“Forgive the attire. I was invited to Mr. Upton’s homecoming celebration.”
“The party,” Phoebe said. “Erin told me.”
“Yes. I’ll be advising him on the best course of action from a legal standpoint so that we can minimize any impact his actions might incur.”
“Thank you,” Phoebe said.
“Erin,” I said. “Why don’t you escort Phoebe back to her room while I talk to Mrs. VanCamp?”
“Will-do, boss,” Erin said.
Phoebe and Erin left, with the former giving me one more grateful hug and a whispered thank you before departing. Once they were out of sight, Helen, Psalter, and I retreated into the study.
“Erin and Henry filled me in on the details,” Helen said as she slunk her way into the center of the room, still dressed in her red bikini, collar, and nothing else. She turned and fixed me with an inquisitive stare. “What are you considering?”
“I told her we had two options: call it in and let the authorities do what they can or let Psalter’s people bring the kid back to his mom.”
“And which one did she prefer?”
“Psalter.”
“And of course, you’re calling the authorities,” Helen said. It wasn’t a question.
I started to protest, but Henry spoke ahead of me.
“The child is with his father, and the mother hasn't reported him missing. Unless young Nate looks like he’s taken a tumble down the stairs or run into a door, there’s nothing law enforcement can do.”
“He can’t kidnap the boy,” Helen argued.
Psalter leveled a deadpan stare at Helen and tipped his beer bottle in my direction. “He’s the wealthiest man in the world by a considerable margin. He can do whatever he wants.”
Helen planted her hands on her hips. “So, stealing him from his father is the best option?”
“No,” Psalter said. He took a sip of his beer. “His best option is not getting involved.”
“That’s not happening,” I interjected.
“And since that’s not happening,” Psalter continued, “his best course of action is to let my man do his job. Nate will be whisked away like a ghost with Jim none the wiser until he wakes up with no desire to call the authorities or file a report.”
“How are you going to get a father not to file a missing persons report?” I asked.
Henry looked at me gravely and said, “You’re better off not knowing.”
“You’re claiming that what you’re going to do can’t be traced back to Marcus?” Helen said, looking skeptical.
“I never said that,” Psalter said. He sounded as if he were explaining his job to a twelve-year-old. “Nothing is completely untraceable in this day and age of geolocation, CCTV, and cashless commerce. I’m simply saying that if I handle it, it will be as close to removed from Marcus as possible. The weakest link will be his association with Mrs. Lucas after the fact.”
Psalter turned his attention back to me. “What will you do with them after the boy’s returned?”
“I offered her a job here.”
Henry’s face fell much more than I thought it could. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“No,” Psalter said. His answer sounded more like a judge pronouncing a sentence than an employee talking to his employer.
“No?” I asked.
“You’re opening yourself to too much risk. If someone sees Nate Lucas in this building after he disappeared and puts the pieces together, you could be looking at—”
“Being charged with kidnapping?” I asked. “I’m pretty sure Helen’s people could handle something like that, right?”
“No,” Psalter said, unfazed by my cutting him off. “Living under a microscope. Forget being charged with simple kidnapping. You’d have phones wiretapped, information subpoenaed, people tailing you all the time. Your life will be dissected, observed, and analyzed for weaknesses by one of your enemies—people with resources to actually fight back in any arena you want to engage in, legal or otherwise. They’re out for blood, and they have enough of it already.”
“So, what do you suggest? I have to do something.”
“Send the authorities,” Helen said, starting to sound like a broken record.
I rolled my eyes.
“I’m not kidding, Marcus! You’re risking exposure and vulnerability for something so low-stakes.”
“Low-stakes? The kid—”
“Is with his father,” Helen said. “It’s not like he’s being trafficked.”
Helen had a lot of strengths, but motherly instincts weren’t one of them, and it showed.
“So you both think it’s best to do nothing?” I asked.
They exchanged glances, and Psalter said, “More often than not, the wisest course of action is not getting involved when you don’t have to.”
“That’s not an option,” I huffed. “I told her I would help.”
“Change your mind,” Helen said.
I leveled my gaze at her, and my tone took on a hard edge. “No.”
Helen’s look of stubborn professionalism cracked as she seemed to remember that while her guidance was valuable, her word wasn’t final.
“Jesus,” I said, placing my hands on the backs of one of the chairs and leaning against it as if I were physically weary. “I have all the money in the world… you’d think it would buy me a solution.”
“You have a solution,” Psalter said. “You can get the boy on a plane tonight, but he can’t come here.”
“Your vacation home,” Helen said, sounding defeated.
I eyed her. “What?”
“No one is there. My understanding is that they finished cleaning it up after the break-in last month. The locks have been changed, and the security systems have been updated so that only you have access. Send them there. She can take care of the place for you.”
That… wasn’t a completely terrible idea.
“Kind of isolated up there,” I pointed out.
“If you retrieve Nate the way she wants, they should be in hiding,” Psalter said. “She should understand that. You might even be able to arrange trips for her back to New York. Given time, you can probably transition her back full-time. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than them staying at your main residence.”
“Okay,” I said. “We’ll do that.”
“She’ll be amenable?” Henry asked.
“She wants her kid back. If she has to go into hiding in a vacation home in the mountains for a while, I’m sure I’ll find a way to convince her. It’s not exactly a gulag.”
We took a few more minutes to work through some of the logistics before Psalter finally left to execute the plan, leaving Helen and me alone. Even after the door shut, she stayed where she was, leaning against the side of my desk, staring at me in obvious discontent.
“What?” I asked.
“Someone tried to kill you,” Helen said. “I wish you wouldn’t give someone else a reason to come after you.”
“Jim’s hardly a threat,” I said.
“Jim Lucas isn’t the one I’m worried about. Hiro Tanaka is out there.”
“I have Tanaka’s son.”
“That’s only going to piss him off more. Besides, he’s not the only one. There’s whoever is behind Bell and Brantwood… the entire Gerrard clan doesn’t seem to like you… not to mention my husband.”
“Ex-husband,” I corrected. That wasn’t technically true, but to everyone that mattered, it might as well have been. She was mine, now.
The word ‘Ex’ seemed to convey that very meaning. Helen’s expression softened a little.
“I l…” She stuttered on a word and then changed tack. “I’m just concerned that if the wrong people find out about this, it could only lead to more problems, and you have enough already.
“Phoebe needs my help, and I’m going to help her. I’ve changed, Helen—a lot. It’s been necessary change, and a lot of it’s been good for me, but there’s still a core part of who I am that I don’t want to change—helping people like Phoebe who have real problems. I’m not perfect, but I need situations like this to remind me of who I am, deep down.”
“I understand,” Helen sighed. “I just…”
“If there’s legal issues, you and Karl will fix it. It’s what I pay you for.”
Helen grimaced. “We’re not magicians, Marcus.”
“You can deal with this, though, right? I’m sure you’ve done way worse than this.”
“Oh, we have,” Helen admitted. She hesitated, then said, “To be honest, this is all very pedestrian by comparison.” She stepped toward me and rested a perfectly manicured hand against my chest. Her eyes flashed as she met my gaze, and I had the sudden urge to kiss her. “I suppose I’m more emotionally engaged with this client compared to our others.”
“I understand,” I said. “This client is particularly fond of their primary lawyer.” I reached up to stroke the back of my fingers along Helen’s jaw. “Maybe we should just let Karl get someone to handle it.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Helen said softly, turning her head to brush her lips against my fingers.
“Good,” I said, capturing her mouth for a brief kiss. “I need to get back to the party, but first, what did you do with Bobbi?”
Helen’s look of soft concern melted into a wicked smile. “I finished her punishment, made her eat me out, and then tied her back onto her saddle. Leaving it on low vibration for a while might remind her that when she’s given a command, she should obey it.”
The thought of Bobbi being forced to go through hours of low-level vibrations on her cunt sounded delicious. The image of her strapped to her knees reminded me of something else I’d meant to discuss with her mistress.
“Oh… one more thing.”
“Sir?” She asked, her interest piqued.
“I’m thinking of taking Bobbi off birth control.”
Whatever irritation remained in Helen’s features dissipated completely.
“Go on,” she said. I had her undivided attention.
***
A few minutes later, Helen and I left the study and made our way back toward the main foyer/living room. My lawyer had a thoughtful little smile as she stared at the floor, likely imagining how Bobbi would take the news. I still wasn’t quite sure how to tell her. Part of me suspected that she would balk at the idea of carrying my child, but another part of me wondered if she might come to accept it… or even like the idea. After all, being the mother to my child meant that her place was more cemented here—that there would be less of a chance of me kicking her out of my home if I had the whim… something that still seemed to occasionally haunt her.
I hadn’t exactly done anything to suggest that I would banish her. In fact, I thought that we were moving past some of our earlier issues, but while Bobbi still balked at commands and snapped at me sometimes, some of that seemed to stem from insecurity… like she was afraid of losing the privilege she’d acquired. Perhaps having a kid would help continue to smooth out more of her rough edges.
It would certainly give her something else to do.
“Need anything else from me?” Helen asked as we entered the living room.
“I don’t think so,” I said, scanning the room. Erin had been right… some of the people from the rooftop had migrated inside. Most of my couch space was taken up with guests, and I heard laughter drift from somewhere out of sight.
The people sitting on the couches included Shea, Camille, William (her fiance), Ian, Charity…
“Hey! There you are.”
Charity got up from the couch and sauntered toward me, hips doing things that would’ve had my full attention ten minutes ago.
But all I saw was Rajesh Desai, parked on my couch, holding court with Shea like he owned the fucking room.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” I asked as soon as Charity was in range—
—and caught the full impact of her bikini, her ink, and her very intentional smile.
Jesus. If Erin hadn’t just taken the edge off me, I’d have already pinned Charity against the wall and thanked her for the view.
“He’s well-known all over New York, London, and Dubai, and his socials have a lot of eyes,” she said. “He’s good for your image… especially after he voted against you and Chandler. Publicly cozying up might send a message. A good one.”
Desai leaned in to say something to Shea, caught my eye mid-sentence, and gave me the kind of smile that belonged in a Crest commercial. He raised his glass at me like we were friends as he said something to Shea, and she laughed.
Seriously… fuck everything about this guy.
William, sitting across from Desai, leaned in and said something about banking, spurring Desai into a discussion with the man that I only caught half of. Shea listened half-interestedly while Camille and Ian spoke quietly in what sounded like French.
“I don’t like him,” I said, still staring at the man. “I wish you’d asked before inviting him.”
“You did say you wanted to make a splash.”
“I said I wanted influencers and social media people,” I snapped.
I glanced at Charity. She always seemed so calm and confident, but in the face of my critical tone, she seemed to deflate a little, and despite my feelings toward Desai, guilt at making a flower like Charity wilt invaded my mind.
“Sorry,” I said. “You’re right. I did ask you to make sure it made the news, and you weren’t there to see how much I hate this guy. You did your job. This is on me.”
She seemed to brighten slowly at that, like a turtle cautiously peeking out of its shell. “I genuinely didn’t know you hated him. I’ll clarify in the future if I even suspect something might be off.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Are we good?” she asked.
“We were never not-good,” I said, giving her a small, reassuring smile.
She returned it. “Can I get you a drink?”
“I thought I was done drinking for the evening,” I said, “but if I’m dealing with this guy, then maybe I’m not. Yeah… I’ll take another drink.” I gave her my order, and she brushed her hand against the back of mine as she passed by me and disappeared to fulfill my request.
William and Rajesh were deep in conversation, and at that moment, I was grateful for the Scandinavian banker acting as a buffer.
Shea, not particularly interested in banking, had risen from her spot during mine and Charity’s conversation and had joined Camille and Ian, also breaking out in pristine French. Helen had disappeared, and I was just starting to wonder if it was a mistake not to leave with her.
Camille got up from the couch, leaving the other two to talk, and made her way over to stand beside me.
“I assumed you wouldn’t mind if I joined the others, since William is here,” she said, her attractive husk made moreso by the lilt of her French accent.
“Oh,” I said. “Yeah… that’s fine.”
“Thank you,” she said, her stormy gray eyes twinkling in appreciation. “And welcome back.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Out of curiosity, how much does everyone know about where I’ve been?”
“Most of us know your helicopter was attacked and you were lost in a forest in Norway for a few days,” Camille said. “It is something that is spreading quickly among the public, but not much is known beyond that.”
“Great,” I said, annoyed that I seemed to have so little control over how much the world knew about my life.
“Oh,” she said, “don’t look too sad. Charity has done wonders to make the best impression. Surviving such a thing makes you seem strong and manly. It is something many men idolize and many women admire.”
I eyed her. Her smile… the way she played with the end of her caramel-colored hair… she was flirting with me.
With her fiancé in the same room.
This wasn’t the first time she’d overtly teased me. It had been confusing… especially after meeting William, who seemed like a nice guy. I decided to get some answers.
“Hey, what’s the deal?”
She arched an eyebrow at me. “Deal?”
“Aren’t you engaged?”
“Oui,” she said, then repeated, “Yes.”
“Then why are you flirting so hard with me?”
She leaned in conspiratorially, seemingly unfazed by me calling her out. “Because you are an uncommonly wealthy and handsome man.”
“Yeah, but so is William.”
“Oh, certainly!” she agreed. “But just because I am engaged to a wealthy, handsome man doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate another one.”
I had a hard time believing she was just flirting for sport.
“So that’s all this is? Appreciation?”
Camille’s full lips curved into a gentle smile. “Of course.”
I stared back at her for a moment, but when she didn’t add anything more, I started to straighten.
“Unless… you’re interested in anything more than appreciation.”
I froze in place as I stared back at her. She simply continued with that mysterious smile.
“I’m sorry?”
Pressure on my thigh drew my attention, and I looked down to see that Camille had discreetly pressed her palm against my leg. The tips of her fingers gently massaged the muscle as her thumb ran back and forth across the fabric of my pants.
I glanced up to meet her gaze and was met with the slow-burning heat full of hidden intent, carefully calculated so that no one else who glanced our way could tell what was happening.
“Is my English not good enough?” she asked softly, just loud enough for me to hear.
“No… I understand you. I’m just not in the habit of sleeping with another man’s wife,” I said. “Fiancé, I mean.”
Hiro Tanaka and Roger VanCamp would probably beg to differ, but I considered those extenuating circumstances.
“Even if the fiancé is okay with it?”
I gave Camille a long look as her hand rested on my thigh. Even though she didn’t fit into the clean lines or sharp silhouettes that so many of the other women in my life seemed to have, she was still a beautiful woman. She had a kind of softness that felt lived-in rather than curated—hips that moved with a generous sway and the suggestion of thighs that stayed kissed by each other when she walked.
Like Jessica, her breasts were natural and full… the kind that shifted slightly out of time with her stride. Her waist didn’t have Helen’s hourglass curve; it was more subtle in its shape, to support her broader assets. Her body didn’t seem to carry that gym-discipline definition, but there was a rich, palpable warmth to her—she was a woman who knew how to stretch across a bed without apology, with skin that didn’t merely blush… it held heat.
I would’ve bet dollars to packing peanuts that she would have been able to keep me extremely warm on those cold Norwegian nights.
And her face—round and soft, with a cute button nose, plush lips that looked perfect for kissing, and smooth lines all framed by silky, light-brown hair. There was no doubt that she was gorgeous.
She was also very taken.
“In my experience,” I said, “the fiancé is rarely okay with it.”
“So,” she said, seemingly unfazed, “you’re saying if I weren’t engaged, you would be interested?”
“I’m not falling for that trap,” I said.
Her smile became more vulpine. “I do not hear a ‘no.’”
“It’s not a ‘yes,’ either,” I quipped.
She chewed on her bottom lip as she studied me, seemingly not put off in the slightest by my attempt to stonewall her.
“If William were to give you assurances that he’s not a jealous man…” She leaned in a little closer, her lips slightly parted. “Would you want to kiss me?”
I felt like steel jaws were closing in around me, and I looked around the room to find that the only one watching us was Shea, out of the corner of her eye. Everyone else still seemed distracted or preoccupied.
“I’m very flattered,” I said, turning my attention back to her, “but I don’t think I’d feel comfortable with that kind of arrangement.”
Her stormy eyes looked me up and down, pausing a little too long on my lips before bouncing up to meet my eyes. Her free hand rose so that two fingers could play over her bare chest, tracing over the silky-smooth skin of her collarbone, then along the hem of her shirt. The movement drew attention to the generous cleavage on display.
I absentmindedly licked my lips as I admired the flawless, warm, cream-colored skin her fingers danced across. Finally, my gaze met hers, and her smile widened, dimples deepening into her cheeks in a way that looked utterly kissable.
Her tongue played across her teeth—the pink tip dragging across her incisors like a vampire teasing a bite. A note of amusement curled into a soft chuckle as she bit her lip again, clearly pleased with how I was looking at her.
“Just think about it, monsieur.”
She held my gaze a moment longer, then turned and strutted away, her fingertips reluctantly leaving my thigh as she walked just outside of arm’s length. I watched her go, her generous ass swaying in those tight, form-fitting pants.
Charity walked past her, giving Camille a cursory glance before approaching me with two drinks in hand. She passed one to me and took a sip from the other.
“What was that about?”
“Leftovers,” I said, taking a sip.
There was no doubt… the thought of Camille’s lips on my dick sounded delightful. Burying myself in her generous tits on a cold night was probably a hell of an experience… but I didn’t particularly like the idea of fucking another man’s girl—especially if he was still in the picture. The two other cases were different. Both had been about more than just sex. They’d been about dominance. Conquest. Ownership. Revenge.
What Camille was offering was none of those things—just pure sex. Tempting? Yes. Worth it? I wasn’t so sure.
My answer seemed to confuse Charity, but she didn’t ask for further clarification, and I didn’t offer any.
“How’s it looking on the roof?”
“Just about everyone’s still out there,” Charity said. “Have you had fun?”
“I have. Thanks for putting this together.”
Charity shook her head. “I couldn’t have done it without Erin and Emiko. They deserve as much credit as I do.”
“Funny. They said the same thing about you.”
That made her blush a little. Charity was adorable when she blushed, which was so easy to make happen.
“Thanks again for trusting me with all this,” she said as she tucked some of her charcoal hair behind one ear.
“Charity,” I said, “I have no doubt you’re going to be amazing.”
I looked her up and down, my meaning layered.
She understood and reached out to play with one of the buttons on my shirt. “I guess we’ll see.”
“Can’t wait.”
She gave a little hum, followed by a closed-lip, mysterious smile.
“And what do we have going on over here?” a male voice interrupted our banter.
I was so focused on Charity that I didn’t notice Rajesh had gotten off the couch and approached. He bit off a piece of something that resembled a ‘pig in a blanket’ and proceeded to chew while still talking. “A little bit of flirtation?”
I bit my tongue to keep from saying something I’d regret and turned toward him, holding out my hand.
“Rajesh. Good to see you again.”
Rajesh looked at my outstretched hand, contemplating whether to take it. Then he shoved the rest of his food into his mouth and grabbed it for a vigorous shake.
“Oh, come now. You don’t have to lie. I know I’m not your favorite person. After all, I did vote against your interests last month.”
That was hardly the only reason I didn’t like him, but I wasn’t about to correct him.
“I guess I can forgive you, since I won.”
“You certainly did.” Desai took a sip of his drink and seemed to savor the memory of that experience almost as much as whatever was in his cup. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a maneuver quite like that.”
His eyes scanned my apartment as he worked a bit of food loose from his teeth with his tongue. He swallowed and said, “Between that and your place, it looks like you’re settling into the lifestyle pretty well.”
The way he said it suggested that my alliance with Carla had been planned. I wasn’t quite sure whether to correct him or not. Hiro hadn’t believed me when I told him what really happened. If the truth wasn’t going to win me a cease-fire with Tanaka, maybe letting the lie stand would make me seem a bit more competent.
“Starting to,” I said, already done with this conversation. “Well, thanks for coming, but I should get back outside.”
“Ehm… would you mind terribly if I joined you for a few minutes? I have something you might want to hear.”
I had to try hard not to roll my eyes. Everything about this man screamed entitled, boorish, and selfish. I despised him, and while a large part of that was because he annoyed the shit out of me, that wasn’t the only reason.
I was a little afraid that one day I might become him.
That thought scared the shit out of me.
“I guess you can walk with me,” I said.
I turned to Charity. “Catch up soon?”
She simply smiled at me and left to sit beside Shea.
Desai fell in next to me as I made my way down the hall—opposite the one where I’d just fucked Erin.
“I appreciate you granting me a few minutes of your time. I promise to make it worth your while.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “If I’d known you were in town, I would’ve invited myself.”
Desai laughed, genuinely sounding amused. “You don’t have to lie to me, Marcus. Considering how close the vote was, I wouldn’t take it personally if you held a grudge.”
“You said you had something worth my while?”
“Straight to business,” he said.
As I headed up the steps, he continued, “I’m not here of my own accord. Granted, I was interested to see your place—see how you were faring since you returned from that dreadful adventure.”
I opened the door to the garden and stepped out into it, not bothering to hold it open for my guest.
“Hiro Tanaka sent me.”
I made a show of looking around, pretending to decide which direction in the garden I wanted to go. Looking indecisive was better than telegraphing that my heart had just skipped a beat at that name. The last thing I wanted was for Rajesh Desai to think that invoking Hiro’s name actually spookedme.
“I told that old fuck to make an appointment. Not send one of his lackeys to ambush me.”
“Lackey?” Desai sounded mildly offended by my choice of words.
I finally deigned to look at him. “Yeah. You’re delivering his message. Lackey.”
Being a minimum amount of civil was all well and good—until I found out he was running errands for the enemy.
He seemed annoyed at the implication he was little more than an NPC. “Tanaka wants his son back.”
“Tell Tanaka I said ‘tough.’” As I headed down the trail toward the pool.
Desai continued to walk with me. “He thought you’d say that, based on your call earlier.”
“I can’t imagine why he’d think sending you would get better results.”
“Because you can’t hang up on me,” Rajesh said.
I stepped out of the garden to find everyone still having a good time. Erin and Natosha were hanging out in a couple of chairs, deep in conversation. Emily and Tara were tearing up the dance floor. Vikram, Venus, Jonah, and Honey were clustered in one corner of the pool, treading water and laughing.
Just as I moved to step out of the foliage, Desai grabbed my shoulder.
“Marcus. You need to listen to me.”
I looked down at his hand, then back up at him.
“Rajesh, there are at least six members of my security on this roof who can probably see you right now. If you don’t take your hand off my shoulder, I’ll get one of them to shoot it off.”
Rajesh did as I suggested.
“Very well. Just… listen.”
I led him over to a couple of chairs, plopped down in one, and gestured to the other. “All right. You have my undivided attention.”
Desai sat across from me. “Thank you.”
“What does Hiro want?”
“He wants his son,” Desai said again.
“Yeah, that’s not—”
“—Or, alternately, his wife.”
I paused. “His wife?”
“He’ll take either one in exchange for an immediate cease in hostilities.”
I thought about that. I’d been asking for a cease-fire since the beginning. Getting Tanaka off my back would allow me to focus on the other problems plaguing me—my brother, the Roger VanCamp mess, Amber Bell, the computer, and flash drive… all those things that had been left at the Wayside because the Tanakas were insane and bloodthirsty.
Rajesh continued, “He wants to save face. It’s a good deal, Marcus. You should take it. Give him the woman, and you can probably negotiate even more for his son.”
“Be honest with me,” I said. “If I gave him Carla, what would he do?”
“To Carla?” Rajesh sat back in his seat, glanced toward the dance floor, considering. “He would kill her.”
Well, that ruled that out. I hadn’t seen Carla in a month. I didn’t have any particular affection for her. According to Chandler, she was a professional pain in the ass.
And yet… I didn’t want to condemn her to die.
That left releasing Ryo—the little toad who had almost killed me.
If I understood correctly, Hiro was far from a world-class father, but honor dictated that he retrieve his only living male heir. Desai was right… if he was willing to negotiate peace for a wife he wanted to execute, what was he willing to do for his kid?
“What if I say ‘no?’” I asked.
“He thought you might ask that,” Rajesh said.
“Well?”
“He told me to tell you that he would go after your mother and stepfather—Shawna and Henry. He also stated that your sister, Emily, would never be able to act again, as performing in public would be incredibly detrimental to her health. Richie, Jacob, his wife and child… they all have lives to lead. Sooner or later, one of them will be in a vulnerable position that you won’t be able to protect.”
I felt my blood boil and wanted to shove Rajesh’s head underwater until the bubbles stopped.
“Are you threatening my family?”
“I’m not. Tanaka is. I’m simply the messenger.”
“If you’re such good pals with Hiro, and we’re fighting, what’s to keep me from locking you in a room with Ryo and making you guys fight it out?”
He grinned lopsidedly, pointing a finger at me like he had my number. “Thought you might ask something like that. First off, we are hardly friends. If I were to die tomorrow, Tanaka would probably lament me as an occasional business partner, but nothing more. Holding onto me would give you very little leverage with Hiro.
Second, if I’m not home by noon tomorrow, information about your family’s business dealings will be leaked to the authorities as well as the press.”
“Information?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard by now,” Desai said, “that your grandfather was far from a saint.”
“Fuck off,” I said, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard this threat. VanCamp made the same one.”
“Yes. And now he’s unhorsed and hiding in Europe… disgraced while you plow his beautiful blonde wife.”
Rajesh moved to the edge of his seat, propping his elbows on his knees as he looked directly at me.
“I’m not Roger VanCamp.”
I simply stared at him. “Why should I believe you? Why the fuck would you know anything about my grandpa’s shady business practices, if there were even any?
“Ever heard of mutually assured destruction?” Desai asked.
“Yeah.”
“That’s what this is. You don’t become this wealthy without getting your hands dirty. Everyone has dirt on everyone else because, at the end of the day, we are the movers and shakers. We conduct business on levels that most people can only dream of. The only ones who can match us… is us. It’s intimate—incestuous, even. But it also means we all know each other’s dirty little secrets. It’s a contained community. And if someone’s betrayed, they will take their betrayer down with them.”
That made sense. Scary sense. Who else can you trust to make shady, illegal, or downright immoral deals… but others who are just as afraid of the light?
The blood drained from my face as the realization struck.
Desai must’ve noticed my poker face slip. He gave me a cocky grin.
“Exactly. Your grandfather was a paranoid old ass. He knew more than most. But he kept his secrets closer to the chest than most.”
Taking a sip of his drink, Desai studied me. He swallowed and said, “This entire time, most of us have been afraid of what you knew.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“But I’m starting to think… you don’t know anything.”
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