Chapter Thirty

Reid

I play the district attorney’s game and listen to his offer, right before I tell him to fuck off, quite literally, and walk out. I’ve made it halfway to the Maxwell offices when my phone rings and he ups the offer. “Still too low,” I say and hang up. He doesn’t call back right away, but he will. Sometimes, being an asshole to assholes really is the icing on top of the cake with this job. He needs to pay. People died and suffered because of him.

My minds goes to Elijah and I dial Royce Walker. “I need to control someone without ruining him but I’ll ruin him if I have to.”

“Why would you ruin him?”

“Because he tried to ruin me.”

“Why would you save him?”

“Because he took an emotional bullet I didn’t intend for him to take but I’m not taking a financial bullet to dry up his tears.”

“Name?”

“Elijah Woodson.”

“Give me a couple of hours. Anything else?”

“Yes. Do you know who Grayson Bennett is?”

“If you mean the billionaire businessman, yes. What about him?”

“This is out of your realm of services, but I need to win him over. I want to show him that I can find out what he likes, by way of a gift, and deliver that item to him today.”

“And this wins him over how?”

“It shows him I do my research. I find out what makes people tick and pleasure is part of what makes us all tick.”

“The John Walker, which will run you four thousand a bottle.”

“And you know this how?”

“We’ve done private security work for him for a charity event. I had the opportunity to talk with him over a bottle of that particular whiskey.”

“You are worth your money, Royce Walker.”

“Remember that when I raise your rates. I’ll be in touch.” He disconnects and my head starts to throb, as in literally, the way it used to when I was recovering from yet another too hard hit when I played football in school. I ignore the pressure at the back of my head and dial Connie and arrange to have the whiskey delivered with a note I custom dictate. By the time I’m done, the car pulls to the Maxwell offices. I enter the building, with one goal in mind: get my fucking brother off my ass. I enter the executive offices and ignore his secretary, Lulu, a thirty-something redhead with an attitude, and I do so based on principle. I don’t like any attitude that isn’t Carrie’s, and who the fuck is named Lulu anyway?

Gabe’s door is open and I walk into his office to find him on the phone. I shut the door as he glances up and eyes me. “Yes, father. I know, father. I know. You told me that three times.” He glances at the receiver and hangs up.

“What the hell is the crisis?” I demand, crossing to his desk and sitting down on one of the burgundy visitor’s chairs.

“Our father is the problem,” he says. “That’s call number three. He feels you’ve undone the effect of the debt payment between him and West. He threatened to walk away from the consulting job he’s doing in Europe and return home.”

My jaw clenches. “You mean because of Carrie.”

“Exactly.”

“I only got involved because of his fucking stroke and the state he and our dear uncle left our reputation in the first place. And I made a deal with West and our father. They get out of town. This wasn’t Carrie’s debt or ours and yet we’re the ones paying for it.”

“Her father tried to make it ours,” Gabe reminds me. “You know that.”

“They both did and they failed. I didn’t let them make this about the younger generation of our families. I won’t let them. This isn’t our war. I thought you agreed.”

“I do,” he says. “Just making sure I know where we stand. I thought maybe Carrie had become a weapon for you.”

“No.”

“That’s a short answer. What’s the story here on you and Carrie? The real story?”

I rub the back of my neck and look at him, my brother, who outside of what is blooming with Carrie, is the only person I actually trust in this world. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

He leans forward. “I don’t remember ever hearing you say those words.”

“Because I don’t say those words,” I bite out.

“Are you sure she’s not the enemy?”

“Yes,” I say. “I am.” I scrub my jaw. “If she was, it wouldn’t matter though. I’d turn her.”

He studies me a few beats. “I get it,” he finally says. “More than you know. The question is, does she know about the debt?”

“Hell no. You know we have a gag order. You know what’s on the line if this leaks and she’d confront her father if I told her.”

“Of course, she would. I sure the fuck would.”

“And honestly, man. As much as not telling her is killing me, I think of mom’s letter. I think of how much I didn’t want to know what I know. Carrie is a good person, too good for me. I don’t want her to go through the awakening I did.”

“But you’re glad you did. I know I sure the hell am.”

“I needed to get my shit together. She doesn’t.”

“Her father will always hold this secret over you.”

“And ultimately he’ll use it and she’ll hate me. I know, but what the fuck am I supposed to do, Gabe?” My cellphone rings and my jaw clenches. I grab it and look at the number, standing up and walking to Gabe’s window as I answer, “Yes, Mr. District Attorney. I’m going to break a rule and say please, do not make another insulting offer.”

“Three o’clock. My office. My final offer.”

“Tell me now.”

“No,” he says, and hangs up.

Gabe steps to my side. “No deal?”

“There’s a deal,” I say. “He’s just being a pain in my ass to get there,” I say the words, but my mind is already back on Carrie.

Gabe knows too, returning to her with me. “You just met Carrie,” Gabe says, joining me. “Right now, you can’t say anything.”

“Thank you, brother,” I say, looking at him, “for confirming, my fucked-up situation.”

“What’s a brother for,” he says, “if not to ground you in reality of just how fucked your life is right now?”

***

Carrie

I arrive to work feeling motivated and smelling like Reid. Literally. I forgot my perfume, and without really thinking about the potential fallout of spraying myself in “him” I doused myself in his cologne. After which, I’d inhaled with the brutally perfect spicy smell of me because, well, I love how he smells. I’d proceeded to head to work feeling motivated to score that big number goal Reid has inspired me to achieve. He saved my company. He gave me a chance to lead its future. He made me think big, and I need to think big to be CEO.

I walk by Sallie’s desk, offer her a cheery “good morning” and claim my seat behind my desk. She then dashes into my office, stands in front of my desk and says, “Who is he?”

I blink up at her, hating the rush of heat to my cheeks. “What are you talking about?”

“You smell like a man and you have a glow about you.”

“I smell like a man,” I say, and with a completely straight face, continue with, “as in sweaty and I need a shower?”

She smirks. “You know what I mean. Like cologne.”

“In other words, my new perfume is a no-go.”

“That’s perfume? It smells manly.”

Because Reid is manly, I think, before I reply with, “Like I said. Ditch the new perfume.”

“What kind is it?”

“Some sample in my makeup order.” I change the subject. “Anyone present any grand ideas for Elijah?” I ask, despite the fact that Elijah is a no-go, because no one knows that yet, and I can use the ideas elsewhere.

“None you want to see I promise you,” she says. “And on that bright note, I’m going to get coffee at the coffee shop. Want one?”

“Yes. Please.”

She departs, leaving me wallowing in my dissatisfaction with our team’s performance, despite the fact that Elijah is out of the picture. Had he been in the picture, we would have failed to provide him with an enticing investment. Elijah who Reid and I never finished talking about, a man on a mission for revenge, that could land right here with this company. I need to know what that’s about. Reid has to tell me.

For now, I set that aside, and I think about the comments about my father. Some people really wouldn’t do business with him, and I think hard about who else is on that list. I look down my prospect list, highlighting contacts that were far warmer to me than my father. Somewhere in this process, Sallie brings me coffee and the little egg white quiches I eat often.

Once I’ve downed my breakfast, I home in on one name: Marcus Phelps, one of the money men behind the New York Rockets baseball team comes to mind. He seemed like he wanted to do business, but something held him back. I dial him and leave a message. He calls me right back. “I was going to call you,” he says, his voice flirty as usual, because he flirts with everyone. He’s a real player. He can’t even stop himself. “I hear you’re up for CEO to replace your father.”

“I am,” I say. “Does that change things for you?”

“Maybe. Let’s have lunch. I’m headed out of town for a week. Let’s set a date for when I get back.”

We set our date and disconnect. I’m about to call through a few other prospects when Reid calls. “Hey, baby,” he says softly.

My stomach flutters with the endearment, and my reaction tells a real story. We’ve gone from me calling him an asshole, to here, and we’ve done it quickly. I wait for this to feel uncomfortable, but I let the man go down on me the night I met him right before I cuffed him. I’m pretty outside any supposed boundaries with Reid.

“Hey,” I reply. “How are things? Did you settle?”

“Not yet. I’m meeting him again at three but we’re close.”

Noting the strain in his voice, I ask, “What has you worried?”

“Who says I’m worried?”

“Worried or weary or something. I hear it in your voice.”

He’s silent several beats and then says, “I’m headed to one of the stockholders’ offices to head off a problem.”

“About Elijah?”

“Yes,” he confirms. “About Elijah.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s between you two?”

He’s silent another two beats and then he says, “We’ll talk,” and moves on. “I won’t be in until after my meeting at the DA. How are things there?”

“Good. I got a meeting set up with a big prospect.”

“You can tell me all about it tonight, naked, in my bed or anywhere in my apartment that suits you. Location is optional. Being naked is not. Did you look around?”

“No. I wanted to wait for you. I want you to show me what you want me to see.”

“Did you now?”

“Yes. I did. I do.” I hesitate. “Reid.”

“Don’t swing this conversation back to Elijah.”

“What if I can pull him out of revenge mode?”

“No.”

“Reid—”

“No, Carrie. I need to go.”

“I’m not done with this topic.”

“But I am, at least, until you’re naked.”

“You’re obsessed with me being naked.”

“I’m just obsessed with you, Carrie.”

My stomach flutters again. “You are?”

“Yes. I am. Everything about you. One partial obsession you’ve stirred in me comes to mind.”

“What obsession?”

“My desire to cuff you to my bed, with the very cuffs you cuffed me with the night we met. You’re going to let me.”

Heat rushes over me. “No.”

“Why? You don’t trust me, Carrie?”

The words tease, but my brow furrows with the certainty that there’s more beneath their surface. “Actually, Reid, I do trust you.”

“Those words will be tested, Carrie. I have to go. Call me if you need me.” He hangs up.

Those words will be tested. He’s not talking about the cuffs. He’s talking about his certainty I will soon hate him again and I want to know what that means. Actually, I want to know a lot of things. Like what’s the story with Elijah and what does everyone but me know about my father. Maybe I’m the one who needs to cuff Reid Maxwell again, but this time, he’ll be naked first, and I won’t be leaving.