Grayson
In my dream, it’s still last night and Isabella falls apart in my hands in front of the mirror. She’s so beautiful and smells so damn good, my hard need pushes between the globes of her sweet bottom cheeks and I wake.
We haven’t made love twice in twenty-four hours since before Skye was born. Do I dare try for the trifecta? I hold her hips, slide into her, and she gives me a sleepy grin over her shoulder.
“Well, good morning, Mr. Patten.”
Shit. Skye begins to fuss in the other room and we both moan.
Teasing myself in and out of my wife, perhaps I’m overly optimistic. “She’ll be fine for just a few minutes.”
My beautiful baby daughter, however, has other ideas and screams as if all hell has broken loose. Maybe her neck’s stuck between the rungs of the crib. She must be in mortal danger. While adrenaline pumps, I tuck a sheet around my waist and Izzy dons a blanket. Then, we run down the hall to the nursery, and pray not to find blood.
Giant crocodile tears immediately disappear when Skye sees us, stands, and holds her hands out with a big grin. “Da da da da da da.”
“You big faker.” I pick her up and toss her in the air until she giggles and my painful hardon subsides.
My wife just stands there and shakes her head. “We’ve birthed a criminal mastermind. I could feed her, put her in her playpen and we could try again?”
Her big blue eyes are laced with desire as she searches mine but I shake my head and moan when today’s schedule flashes in my mind’s eye.
“Sorry. Meetings, this morning, more this afternoon.”
She makes it hard to say no when she wraps her arms around my waist, tongue thrusting in and out of my ear. “Come home early?”
“Not sure, probably not.” I’ve bet a small fortune on my next deal and unfortunately, no one else can handle the negotiations.
I’d tell her but don’t want her to worry. She’s got enough on her plate.
“Okay…” The disappointment in her tone kills me.
Even so, she wraps me and Skye in a big hug. Fun time over, we dress and move to the kitchen where Slate waits, eggs and bacon on the stove.
The man deserves more than a raise. “You keep this up, I’ll buy you a ruffled pink apron with your name embroidered on it.”
“Do it and I’ll see to it your blue balls fall off.” My bodyguard turns to Isabella and winks.
“Morning Mrs. Boss, baby Boss.” He chucks Skye under the chin who gives him a one-tooth grin.
When Isabella puts her in Gabi’s highchair, he eyes the cereal Izzy mixes with brows creased. “What kind of goop is that?”
“Cream of rice.” She shovels a spoonful into Skye’s mouth but my little monkey spits it out, white, thick drool rolling down her chin.
Slate laughs and tousles her dark curls. “That’s my girl, don’t give in, no matter how much they torture you.”
Skye grabs the edge of the bowl and lets go.
Cereal flings everywhere but Slate jumps back. “Ha, missed me.”
Isabella, however, was not so fortunate. Her hair is matted with a glue-like substance that somehow managed to miss me.
Glad I don’t need a wardrobe change, I glance down at my watch, and motion to Slate. We need to get going.
“Love you.” I kiss my sticky wife on the top of her head with an ache in my gut. If I could stay, I would.
“Love you, too.”
She wipes herself with paper towels, I sneak up behind her, and whisper, “I’m saving up more ways to fuck you.”
Momentarily speechless, the girl I fell in love with blushes as I chuckle and head out the door. I’m pretty sure I’m still wearing a shit-eating grin when Slate brings the car around and I jump in.
With a glance at Google Maps, he heads crosstown while I get down to business. “It’s got to be Xavier.”
Slate nods. “I called the agency. They won’t send another nanny to the house. They say Isabella is abusive.”
My Izzy? From Minnesota? Other than Xavier, I don’t think I ever heard her bad mouth anyone. “Did you follow the money?”
“Nothing yet. The last three had no bank account. Cash is a harder trail to follow.”
I groan. “I need this settled. Izzy’s having nightmares again.”
“Did you tell her what you suspect?”
“No.”
“Forgive me for saying so, but why the hell not?”
“Because I don’t want her to worry.”
He mutters some shit about how I’m a fucking idiot while I text CJ Quinn. Maybe I could use a little advice.
Me: Hey
CJ: Wassup?
Me: Lunch today?
CJ: How about a run?
I check my calendar and free up an hour in the middle of the day.
Me: Outside my office?
CJ: West Side and Twenty-third. Fresh air.
Me: In NYC? Seriously?
CJ: LOL. C U Later.
I give him a thumbs-up while Slate maneuvers through traffic. When his attention is less diverted I ask, “Can you check in with Jack and find out where to drop me off later?”
“You sure you’re up to it?” My driver laughs and for that, I will force him to run with us, just to bust his ass. I’m no professional athlete, neither is Slate, but CJ is the best quarterback in the league. Hopefully, because it’s off season, he’ll show us some mercy.
Once at my office, I try to focus on the myriad of details about my latest acquisitions but my mind wanders to Xavier. Is it possible he bribed our nannies to make me look bad? It hardly seems possible. Still, I believe Isabella wouldn’t make up such outlandish stories, especially after last night.
Suddenly, I remember what might’ve set her off. One morning last week, when I got out of the shower, nanny number three walked in on me. I was pretty sure I locked the door but thought nothing of it as I grabbed a towel. Shocked, the girl dropped her basket of toiletries and went to her knees to get them. When I looked up, she was inches away from my cock just as Izzy had come up the stairs.
I can only imagine what she thought…
Damn it.
I try to think back if there were other careless incidents and there may have been a couple. Fuck. I really have been an idiot. I bet those girls were paid to undermine my relationship with my wife and it almost worked.
I get through my morning meetings, change into running clothes, and ping Slate.
Me: Put your sneakers on.
Slate: ?
Me: You’re joining us.
Slate: Sweeeet.
The drivers find parking in a local lot then we all head to the river.
“Go easy on me.”
CJ laughs. “It’s off season. Otherwise you’d be fuck out of luck.”
We jog down the path along the Hudson while the sun beats down on us. A few recognize the famous quarterback but Manhattanites are pretty cool and don’t try to stop him. They do, however, stop and take pictures as we make our way south.
“You ever get used to that?”
“Used to what?”
“Never mind.” The path widens, I catch up and run beside him so we can talk. Slate takes the front and Jack takes the rear, their eyes darting for trouble.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” I try to hide the fact I’m somewhat out of breath as Quinn’s brows raise.
“Since when do you ask for permission?”
I deserve that. I constantly need advice and he’s the only person I know with a wife with issues similar to mine.
It’s a struggle to converse while I gasp for breath. “It’s Izzy. She’s having bad dreams. Almost every night.”
He slows to a jog and frowns. “What’s she say?”
“I don’t think she knows how often they happen. Most of the time she doesn’t wake up and I haven’t wanted to tell her. She’s still nursing and doesn’t get much sleep. And… I don’t know. Maybe this is post partem?”
“Is she seeing a therapist?”
“Yeah.”
“Sooo… What can I do to help?” We hit the end of our path and he jogs in place for a second before turning around.
I don’t know how to start this topic so I just come right out and say it. “How the hell do you guys find time for sex?”
Stunned for a moment, he stops his run and hoots out loud. “Man, for a fucking billionaire, you are clueless.”
“I’m serious. Thank God you gave us your place last night or my balls might’ve dropped off.”
He laughs so hard his eyes actually water. “You do know there’s things called nannies, right?”
I think I might punch him. “I’ve had four. The last three told Izzy I was hitting on them.”
“You didn’t, did you?” When his eyes darken, I imagine him on a football field and cringe.
“Hell no. I only want to fuck my goddamn wife.” I say it so loud several young joggers nearby snicker and an older woman with a stroller gives me a dirty look.
CJ slaps me on the back and sets a faster pace. “Listen. Mel explained the situation and already broached the subject with Isabella. I got a friend with a place in the Bahamas. It’s on a private island. Fucking incredible. Beach, coconuts, the works. You take her there. The baby will get tired out what with playing in the water and all. You two will have time to relax. Take Slate. Have him be your nanny for a few days.”
“Seriously?”
“Sure. It worked for me and Mel. Something about a warm beach… Did I tell you we’re expecting number two?”
“Congratulations.” I punch him in the arm and as we run, wonder if I would ever want another. Right now, all I want is more sex and a good night’s sleep.
I thank him and head back to the office, beaches and margaritas in mind. It’s true, recently I’ve spent long hours at work. Having a kid, I want to do more, be more. The only way I know how is to buy companies and make deals. Maybe, once this one finishes, I’ll leave more of the grunt work to my employees.
While I ponder the possibilities, I text Isabella.
Me: Hey luv.
Izzy: Hi <3
Me: Thinking about fucking u on a warm beach
Izzy: Mmmm
Me: Want to?
Izzy: Serious?
Me: Yeah
Izzy: What about Skye?
Me: Going to ask Slate to be our nanny for a few days.
Izzy: OMG
Me: :-}
Izzy: When u want 2 go?
Me: Tonight?
Izzy: WHEEEE! I need a bathing suit.
Me: No suit. Private beach.
Izzy: You are so bad.
Me: Lov U
Izzy: <3 <3 <3
Hmm. Three hearts. That’s good.
More content than I’ve been in months, I arrive back at the office and into the conference room where there’s fifteen partners and three monitors with talking heads from around the world. The Saudis seem real eager to invest which I wasn’t expecting. Apparently, the new king wants to divest the country’s portfolio out of oil and into hi-tech which is what I know best.
The last meeting of the day takes much longer than expected and when I check, it’s almost ten PM but at least the deal went through. Now, it’s mostly up to lawyers and I can take a step back.
After everyone piles out of the conference room, the caterer cleans up the mess of half-eaten sandwiches, cookies, salad, and empty coffee cups.
“Thanks, John.” I smile at the dark man who’s fed me through my many successes of the last year.
He’s been with me since I first came to New York and took over my dad’s company. Deftly, he wraps up the leftovers which I know will be headed for the soup kitchen downtown. That’s why I order so much.
“Hey Mr. Patten. Rough day?”
“Long day. Thanks for coming by so late.” I stretch, my body stiff from hours of sitting.
“No problem-o. Whenever you need me, I’m your man.”
While he finishes up, I step into my office surprised to find a strange woman emptying my garbage.
“Miss?” When she doesn’t seem to hear, I take a few steps toward her.
Without warning, she turns, unzips her dress, stark naked underneath. Then, she kicks my feet out from under me and straddles me.
“What the?”
A shutter snaps from somewhere behind me.
Man, I am too old for this shit. I toss the woman aside, stand, and try to run for whoever took the picture but she clings to my leg and slows me down.
I drag her and me to the door but the photographer or paparazzi or whoever is long gone.
“Dammit, let go of me.” I unclamp her hands, grab her by the arms, and set her on my chair.
Where the hell is my security? Heads will roll as soon as I find out how this breach happened.
Quickly, I call Slate, who left to get the limo so I could go home. “Someone’s coming out of the building. Hold him, ah… or her.”
“Wait? Who? Slow down, Gray.”
I probably sound like a lunatic. “Someone took a shot of me.”
“Damn. Are you okay? Should I call nine-one-one?”
I curse myself for not making more sense when I need to be clear-headed. “Not that kind of shot. A picture shot.”
“Camera or cell phone?”
“Dammit. I have no fucking idea. My back was to him… or her. Check with the front desk. Someone had to have signed in.” I glare at the woman who sits in my lounge chair. Will she confess?
John comes in to my office, completely out of breath. “Sorry, I lost him.”
He stares at the woman, brows crunched, face in a sneer. “I told you to stay in the conference room. Jeesu, why are you naked?”
“She’s with you?” I’m so disappointed in my young caterer, my stomach turns.
Then, I throw the dress at the smug, naked woman, and grimace at the wet marks on my leather. After this, I’ll probably toss my favorite chair to the curb.
While I lean my butt against the desk, the caterer steps more fully into my office. “I am so sorry, Mr. Patten. I was shorthanded and she gave me a sob story about needing a job so I figured she could help me clean tonight.”
I shake my head. He should know better. “Did she show you any paperwork?”
“Ah, no. I was just going to pay her off the books. She’s got a kid who needs surgery.”
“Seriously, John? That’s the oldest line in the book.”
“Damn. I’m really sorry, Mr. Patten. It won’t happen again.” His eyes plead but it’s too late.
This could’ve been way more serious. She could’ve had a gun, could’ve stolen my PC, shot an Arab prince, any number of things. What I don’t get is why my building security was so lax.
Slate comes through my office door as the elevator door dings and closes in the hall. “The downstairs guard is missing.”
I’m so pissed, it takes me a moment to speak. “A woman got into my office with some accomplice and snapped a picture. How the hell did it happen? No one goes home until we find out.”
My phone rings and it’s my sobbing wife. “It’s all over Facebook.”
“Babe, let me explain… I was set up.” Even I don’t believe this shit-show and the more I explain, the worse it sounds.
“Grayson. You have some of the tightest security in the city. I’m having a hard time understanding how someone got through it.”
Holy fuck, now I get how she must’ve felt when I accused her of PTSD. This has Xavier written all over it.
“I promise, I’ll get to the bottom of it. I won’t be home until I do.”
At that, she starts to cry again and hangs up. It takes me a few moments to figure out why. She must think I’m spending the night with that other woman.
When I look up, Slate grills the strange woman along with my former caterer. The woman refuses to talk but over threats of losing all his clients, John confesses. “I got a call. All I had to do was hire this woman and my kid’s college tuition would be paid in full.”
“So, you sold me out?”
He nods, unable to meet my gaze.
“Was the night guard in on this, too?”
“Don’t know. I guess so. He didn’t ask any questions.”
I smell Xavier Cross but say nothing as I glare at Slate. He’s not only my bodyguard, he’s my fucking security expert and supposed to make sure shit like this doesn’t happen.
His dark eyes narrow and his jaw ticks as he glances down to think for a second, then meets my gaze straight on. “I’ll find my replacement. After he’s trained, you’ll have my resignation.”
“We’ll talk about that later. First, I’m counting on you. Figure this out. Cost is not a problem.”
He nods. “You want me to call the police? Press charges?”
I think about the headlines, how much the Saudis like their privacy, and shake my head, no. “Just get these two the fuck out of my sight.”
Everyone clears out and I call Cherry. “Hey love, I got a situation.”
“I’ll say you have. You’ve already got two-hundred-thousand hits on Twitter.”
“Thank God I had my clothes on.”
She clears her throat. “Uh, boss? Maybe you need to check this out.”
I click on the link she sends and moan. How the hell did someone know I have a tat on my upper thigh? The picture that goes viral is not my body, but it’s a damn good likeness. Even I’m surprised by the accuracy. Surely, Izzy will understand.
“Trace this shit. I want to know who posted it and their great grandmother’s middle name. Understand? Wake up whoever you need to and get it done. I am so fucking sick of this shit.”
“No problem. Call you back in a few.” She hangs up and I pace.
Which is more important? Do I find who is messing with me or to go home to Isabella? I’m quite sure who the culprit is. There’s only one man who’d go to such lengths to bring me down.
I remember my college roommate. He had a chip on his shoulder even then but was generally a good guy, or so I thought. I was the one who recommended him to my father. It wasn’t until I caught him embezzling millions he went off the deep end.
Slate shows up in about thirty minutes and rubs a palm over his dark stubble. “Listen, Gray. I can’t believe this happened. I got a whole team of guys watching and listening. I didn’t see this one coming.”
My office swivel chair leans back and I rub my tired eyes as I try to force them open. When that doesn’t work, I stick a pod in the machine, make coffee and turn to my man. “When the nannies didn’t work, Xavier needed to up his game. We need to turn this around. Get him to come to us.”
I call Isabella back, thankful she doesn’t send me to voice mail.