Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.
—Michael Corleone
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
EMILY
Saturday afternoon finds Shane and me huddled inside his office, which is actually more of a library than anything, bookshelves sandwiching a massive pale wooden desk. Us claiming the dark brown leather sofa and chairs nested in a corner. Shane chooses to sit on the couch, while I settle onto the plush brown rug on the floor beside him, both of us placing the two MacBooks he has on top of the wooden coffee table that matches the desk.
Once we’ve reviewed what he wants achieved, it doesn’t take long for us to dive into his research, or for us to get creative and turn the one open wall into a giant bulletin board with a massive amount of data sorted by topic, organization, and people. It becomes evident almost immediately that we are just as good at working together as we seem to be at everything else. And I not only enjoy our sharing of information, but really, truly, get a real thrill out of the case law related to drug-centric lawsuits, but we argue about his risk or reward with certain product choices for the BP division.
One case in particular has Shane ripping a page off the wall, while I insist he leave it in place, detailing the reasons I don’t think it’s high risk, despite a massive lawsuit ten years ago. He ends up repinning it to the spot on the wall, and when he sits back down, he gives me a scrutinizing look.
“LSAT score,” he says.
“I never said I took it.”
“Did you take it?”
It’s a direct question, and I know he’ll know if I lie, and the truth is that it matters to me. “I took it. I killed it.”
His eyes light with approval. “I had no doubt. You don’t need to be sitting outside my father’s door. You need to be in law school.”
“I’m getting too old.”
“When we touched on this the night we met, I had a feeling age was holding you back. Twenty-seven is not old.”
“Oh come on, Shane. For law school, it is. You know it is.”
“We’ll agree to disagree on that one. Why didn’t you go after you took the test? You had to have had offers.”
Regret over the many things that went wrong and can’t be shared leaves me with only one answer that I pray he accepts. “It’s complicated.”
He studies me and I am certain he will press me, but instead gives me a nod. “Understood,” he says, and I don’t think he is talking about law school being complicated, but rather, me not wanting to talk about it.
We slip past that moment easily though, and by evening, we’ve spent more time on work than Shane planned, but I don’t mind. I’m also not complaining about our move to the bedroom, where we spend more hours naked than not, and discover we both love Criminal Minds, which launches us into a Netflix marathon. We laugh and talk, but I don’t miss that after the LSAT conversation he’s cautious about pressuring me for more personal details. I’m both relieved and sad at the limits I’ve placed on us, but still my phone doesn’t ring, and the more I think about Derek digging into my background, the more I know where my decision must be headed, and it’s not me staying with Brandon Enterprises or Shane. It’s a reality that cuts and burns, as hours later, I lay awake in the darkness while he sleeps, his big body wrapped around mine, and I try to chase a way out of trouble that I can’t seem to find.
I don’t remember falling asleep, but when I wake, it’s daylight on Sunday, and Shane is still holding me as if he thinks I’ll escape like the first night we met. But I don’t want to escape, and he only drives home that point with morning sex, and a suggestion we go for a run together, which I eagerly accept. Both of us dress, Shane in black sweats and a black T-shirt that shows off every perfect line and muscle of his torso. Me in black Nike cropped leggings, a matching tank top and a hoodie. Ready to go, we head down the hall, and when we step into the elevator and he laces his fingers with mine, it’s that moment that I feel us becoming more than the number of amazing orgasms we’ve shared. The fact that he’s proclaimed he doesn’t do relationships and that I never intended to do one either, shakes me to the core. We are more than those orgasms and yet we are still defined by my lies.
The elevator dings at the lobby level, and the instant we step out into the hallway, I am suddenly nervous. “I don’t know why I keep thinking we’ll run into your father. He was just here one night.”
“Actually,” Shane says. “He rented a place here for his mistress.”
I blanch at the news he’s stated as matter-of-factly as he might the weather. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I wish I were,” he says, and before I can reply, the double glass doors have parted and Tai is greeting us, diverting us from Brandon Senior to small talk.
Five minutes later, we finally break away from the conversation, but my read on Shane is that the moment to talk about his father is gone, if it really even existed in the first place. We’ve already moved on to comparing music, and I’m surprised he listens to Jason Aldean, one of my favorite country singers. “I’m from Colorado,” he says. “A country boy at heart. You’re from L.A. What’s your excuse?”
Because I’m from Texas, I think, hating the way the lies circle me like sharks. “Colorado doesn’t get to claim Jason Aldean,” I say, dashing into a run.
He quickly catches up to me and in agreement it seems, we both reach for our headsets and fall into an even pace together, and even in the absence of conversation, I have this sense of being with him that I’ve never experienced with anyone.
Forty-five minutes later, he’s officially pushed my limits, never easing his pace, and we continue longer than I normally would have on my own, but I like it. “I’m dying,” I say, when we finally start walking, my chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “How far was that?”
“Six miles. Did I push you too hard?”
“It felt like seven,” I say, “but no. It was a great workout.”
“Next time we’ll do seven then.”
“Six will do just fine,” I assure him, and I have not missed his reference to a future run I really do hope happens.
“Coffee?” he asks, stopping next to one of my favorite chains.
“Yes, but what if we run into someone from the office?”
“It only feeds the idea that I’m using you.” His lips quirk. “I am, you know. For sex and coffee. But you can use me too.” He opens the door and waves me forward.
I laugh despite my nerves and enter the building, seeing wooden tables, many filled with people, clustered around me. Shane joins me and we head to the counter, both of us ordering coffee and bagels, and he surprises me by draping his arm over my shoulder.
“You aren’t being discreet,” I whisper as we wait for our order, both holding our pastry bags.
“Am I supposed to be?” he asks, grabbing our coffees, and indicating a free table for two in the corner.
I wait until we claim our seats, sitting across from each other, to reply. “Shouldn’t we be at least a little discreet?”
“No,” he says, and setting his phone on the table next to him, the way he’s monitoring it gives me the distinct impression that even on Sunday, he’s working some angle to take over Brandon Enterprises. “We do not need to be discreet.”
I consider him a moment and nod, pulling my bagel out of the bag while he does the same. I’ve just taken a bite of mine when he surprises me. “I want you to stay tonight.”
I set down the bagel and grab a napkin, only to have him reach across the tiny table and wipe cream cheese from my mouth, and lick it off his finger. “I owed you,” he says softly, and he is close, his mouth a lean away from a kiss, his voice sandpaper and silk on every nerve ending.
“We are most definitely not being discreet,” I manage.
“Stay the night again.”
Surprised, I lean back to look at him. “I have to get ready for work in the morning.”
“So do I.”
“I’m not riding to work with you, Shane. That just makes me look like a bimbo.”
He arches one dark brow. “A bimbo?”
“If the shoe fits.”
“That shoe hardly fits you, sweetheart.”
“I am sleeping with one of my bosses.”
“Yes. You are, and maybe I should just start ordering you to do things.”
“You already do.”
“And yet somehow I struggle to get you to do what I say.”
“Not at work.”
“Then consider yourself at work for a moment, because I’m taking you home early in the morning and you’re staying the night. End of subject.”
“I’ll stay,” I say, giving him a tiny smile. “But not because you’re my boss. Because I want to stay.”
His sexy lips quirk and he reaches for his coffee but doesn’t take a drink. He sets it back down, the full force of his attention on me. “I don’t wake up with women in my bed.”
While he has inferred as much, I am surprised and pleased by this announcement. “I’m no different.”
“You went on the pill for someone.”
“Paranoia,” I say honestly, clinging to every truth I can tell him. “I was afraid of getting pregnant, since becoming a single mom and trying to go to school didn’t seem exactly smart.”
“But you were in a relationship.”
“I thought I was, but I was confused.”
His brow furrows. “Now I don’t understand the words coming out of your mouth.”
I can’t muster a smile. “That part of my life is not my shining glory.” As with the present day, I add silently before explaining. “He was my college professor and didn’t tell me he was married.”
“How badly did he hurt you?”
“I found out the day after my mother was killed in a car accident. It was a blow.”
“I’m beginning to see you more clearly,” he says. And before I can ask what he means, he’s already moving on, “What did you do about the professor?”
“Nothing.”
“You should have reported him.”
“In hindsight, maybe, but I was not in a good place, and I darn sure didn’t want to hear I had daddy issues.”
“Lots of people date older.”
“Yes, but my father was…” I catch myself before I say a law professor and invite questions I can’t answer.
“Your father was what?” he prods.
“Within his circle,” I say, avoiding a question about where he taught. “So I brilliantly rebounded with a tattoo artist who was younger than me.”
“And yet you have no ink.”
“Oh, he tried to convince me to remedy that. But you know, it felt more like a commitment to him, which I wasn’t going to make, than a tattoo.” I sip my coffee. “I told you my history. Your turn.”
“I was engaged to another law student,” he says, delivering a bombshell I don’t expect.
“Engaged. That’s pretty intense.”
“Not really. I was young and the pairing fit an image I had formed in my mind of my life and career at the time, which was total bullshit. We ended badly, and after that, I let my career take over, and kept things simple with women.”
I tell myself not to ask, but I can’t help myself. “Simple how?”
“Women I have agreements with up front.”
“Agreements,” I say, a bit stunned. “That’s cold, Counselor.”
“Not if it’s what they wanted too.”
“That never backfired?”
“I never allowed one the chance.” He gives me a thoughtful look. “Interesting enough though, with you, I was the one who never had a chance.”
“Funny,” I say, my stomach fluttering. “I thought the same about me.”
Flecks of blue glint in his gray eyes, telling me I’ve pleased him, and I am surprised how much this pleases me as well. “Then it’s mutual,” he says, “but actually, there is one agreement I think we should make.”
“Agreement,” I repeat, the word promising me an escape from the dangers of too much intimacy, while I simply feel like a fool. “I don’t need an agreement, Shane. I told you. I understand—”
“Apparently you don’t understand, or you wouldn’t be about to say what you’re about to say.” He leans closer. “Emily. Let me be clear. I want you. And not just in bed.”
“Why?”
“It’s indefinable. It’s just you.”
“But you just said—”
“That we need one agreement. That being, if at any time my brother makes you feel uncomfortable at work tomorrow, you do not stand alone. You text me, call me, or come to my office.”
My relief at how wrong I was comes at me far too intensely for the short time I’ve known this man. “I can handle Derek.”
“You’re strong, but he’s vicious. I know I told you not to come to me at work, but that was before we were outed, and this is now. If you—”
“I will.”
“He will trick you and play with your head.”
“He’s already tried.”
“He’ll try again.”
“He’ll fail.”
“You come to me.” His cell phone buzzes and his gaze flicks to his screen, and he immediately reaches for it. “I need to take this call, but we’re not done talking about Derek, or my father, for that matter.” He stands. “I’ll be right back.”
I nod and track his path across the coffee shop to step outside, obviously not wanting me to hear his conversation. He has secrets too, I realize, but that’s expected. We’ve not known each other long, and he’s trusted me in ways I believe he reserves for few others. And he has no idea the many reasons I have to trust no one, and yet … I want to trust him. But it’s not as simple as that, nor is my secret about trust. It’s about the damage it could do to him. That I could do to him.
Anger at my situation has my hand going into my jacket pocket and grabbing my phone. I check for a message I already know isn’t there before hitting the redial button, grimacing as one ring sends me to voice mail. The line beeps and I say, “This is the last call I’m making. If I don’t hear from you today, I’m out.” I end the call and give myself a mental pat on the back. Let him squirm over the definition of “I’m out.” I’ve just shoved my phone back in my pocket when Shane reappears.
“Jessica got us a viewing of the apartment, but we need to go now. Apparently, the owner still lives there and is out at the moment.”
I stand and grab my coffee while he does the same with his. “How close is it?” I ask.
“Ten minutes in a cab if we can find one,” he says, and we both grab our bagels and toss them in the trash on the way to the door.
Shane hails a cab quickly, and once we’re inside, his hand closes on my leg, and he pulls me closer, aligning our bodies, our legs touching, but already he is glancing at another text message. The next moment, he’s pulling up a video he doesn’t try to hide, watching what appears to be several men in a warehouse, loading boxes on a truck. The instant it’s over, he releases my leg and punches a call button.
“What the hell did I just watch?” he demands of whoever answers the call, and while I can’t hear the conversation, I have a pretty good idea it’s Seth based on what I’ve seen of their interactions.
“You’re sure?” Shane asks, after listening a few beats. “Son of a bitch, this takes everything to a new level. When do you get back?” He listens again, and then, “I want to meet with the security team as well. Tomorrow.” He ends the call, tension crackling off of him, but he contains it, unmoving—every bit of the anger I sense in him well bridled, his control enviable in every way.
Time passes, and still he doesn’t speak or look at me, but his hand comes back down on my leg, silently telling me he’s still right here with me. I reach down and cover his hand with mine, answering with a silent promise that I’m not going anywhere. I’ve never wanted it to mean more.
“I had concerns that one of the companies under our umbrella was a liability,” he says, turning his head in my direction, “and Seth has confirmed I’m correct.”
“Can you fix it?”
“I have to fix it. There’s no other option.”
The cab stops in front of the blue glass building in the center of what seems to be a high-end shopping district. Shane pays the driver and exits first, offering me his hand, and helping me to my feet, allowing me to discover we’re nearly on top of a mall. “I’m no longer objective about this apartment,” I say. “It has me at shopping.”
He laces his fingers with mine. “I’ll bring you back another day and show you around. Unfortunately today, I have some business to attend to.”
“I know your family will be cautious with me now, but I’m still close to your father. Tell me what to be looking for and if I can help I will.”
“Not this time,” he says, draping his arm around my shoulders to put us in motion toward the front door of the building. “I don’t want you anywhere near this problem.”
Like I don’t want him anywhere near my mess, I think, and it’s not a good thought. Suddenly, I can’t help but wonder if we are the right people but at the wrong time. But how could this ever be the right time in my situation? I wouldn’t want to miss knowing Shane and I don’t know where that leaves me, or us.
I’m still trying to figure out the answer when we reach the double glass doors of the building. Shane opens the door for me. I step inside the foyer, seeing gray stone under my feet, a capped high ceiling above me, and a luxury seating area outlined by an expensive-looking blue oriental rug. Shane joins me, and I say, “It’s pretty, but kind of sterile, where the Four Seasons feels warm and friendly.”
“‘Sterile’ seems an appropriate description,” he agrees, motioning toward the seating area where a man and woman, both in business casual attire, are chatting.
His arm returns to my shoulders.
“I feel underdressed and like I need a shower,” I say, as we start walking.
“I’m spending millions on this place if I buy it,” he says. “They’re the only ones who need to take a shower.”
“Only you could say that and not sound arrogant,” I comment.
“Because I see the influence of money as a fact,” he states. “It’s about knowing where your power comes from.”
Knowing where your power comes from. Those words resonate with me, and in my mind, I believe my phone will ring now. Because I took the power I still had left, and used it when I left that message. I’m so lost in thought I don’t immediately realize the woman is walking toward us, and not only is she elegant in black pants and blouse, she has spiky blond hair and her name is Jessica.
Instantly on the defensive, I try to pull my hand away from Shane and he catches it on the other side of his hip. “Shane, let go, damn it.”
“She’s already seen us, sweetheart, and I trust her. You can trust her too.”
“Why didn’t you at least warn me?”
“I didn’t know she was going to be here until we walked in.”
It’s at that moment that we halt in front of Jessica, her attention settling on me. “Hello, Emily.”
“Hi, Jessica,” I say, giving an awkward wave. “Sorry I didn’t tell you, but it just wasn’t the right time.”
“I’m using her to get information,” Shane says. “Hiding in plain sight. Understood?”
“To protect her,” Jessica concludes, her gaze flickering between the two of us. “Understood. You could have told me right out of the gate.”
“We’re telling you now,” Shane says. “And Derek and my mother know.”
“And your father?”
“Assume he does,” Shane states, and obviously done with the topic, adds, “Let’s get this viewing done and over with.”
“All right then,” she says. “But before I introduce you to Frank, our Realtor today, you should know I’d describe him as ‘difficult.’”
“My money isn’t,” Shane replies.
“Well then,” she replies, “it seems that in your present mood, Frank doesn’t stand a chance.” She steps backward and leads us in his direction.
Frank, a fifty-something man with glasses and a pretentious attitude he doesn’t need words to reinforce, greets us with handshakes, and quickly directs us to an elevator bank. Once inside, Shane stands behind me, one possessive hand on my shoulder. “This property will go fast,” Frank states, standing near Shane. “How motivated are you to make a quick decision?”
“If I’m motivated,” Shane says dryly, “you’ll know.”
Frank doesn’t get the message to stand down, pressing onward. “I should tell you that I already have several interested parties.”
“If I’m motivated,” Shane repeats. “You’ll know.”
Frank shuts up at that point and the rest of the ride to the penthouse is silent. The car stops on our level, and frank leads us to the one and only door on the floor, while Shane urges me inside the apartment for the first look. Upon entering, the wooden floor is dark, almost black, a striking difference to what Shane has now. Traveling a short hallway with stucco walls, I exit the other side to find myself in a half-moon-shaped room wrapped in windows. The view of downtown and the Rocky Mountains, is so stunning, I barely glance at the black leather furnishings framing a fireplace running to the ceiling.
“What do you think?” Shane asks, stepping to my side.
I turn to face him. “So far, it’s not that different from what you have now, though I haven’t actually looked around it completely.”
“You’re right. It’s got the same look and feel, down to the balcony off the living area.” His hands settle on his hips. “The difference is that there I’m by the office.”
“That has pros and cons,” I say. “And your father sure won’t be renting a room here.”
“My father,” he says, his look thoughtful, his fingers stroking the dark, sexy roughness of the stubble on his jaw, which he didn’t shave this morning. “Won’t be renting a room there either.”
“I thought you said he was already?”
“I did.”
Before I can ask what he means, Jessica appears between us, linking her arms with ours. “Let’s look at the rest of the place,” she urges. “Through the archway directly in front of us is a gorgeous gray stone kitchen and a sunken library.” We start moving in that direction. “There’s also an office and a bedroom, while the upstairs is expansive.”
For the next ten minutes we do a walk-through of the remainder of the apartment, including the rooms Jessica has indicated, along with a media room, and the second level, where we find a ridiculous number of bathrooms and bedrooms. Through it all, Shane is reserved, removed even, barely commenting on anything. Finally, we reach the master bedroom, which is another half-moon-shaped room, with a massive four-poster bed in the center, and another balcony to the right. Shane gives it a thirty-second inspection, says nothing, and then crosses the room to the balcony, which he opens and steps outside.
Jessica lets out a frustrated sound and I turn to find her facing me. “I know you two started seeing each other before you showed up at Brandon Enterprises,” she says. “What I don’t know is how well you know him, so let me point out the obvious to me. While other people throw things and curse when they’re angry, this is how Shane does pissed off. The quieter he is, the worse his anger. So what happened and with who?”
Her observations resonate as correct, and since Shane trusts her, I decide to answer. “Something Seth found out and shared right before we got here. I don’t know anything more.”
“If Seth’s involved, it’s bad.”
“Jessica,” Frank shouts from the stairwell.
She grimaces. “I’ll hold off Franky boy out there and give you two some time.”
I nod and she heads for the hallway, while I quickly join Shane on the balcony, seeing nothing but his back, his shoulders bunched under his T-shirt, and his gaze cast over the city.
“What can I say or do?” I ask, joining him, facing his direction, one of my hands closing around the steel railing.
He faces me, and his expression is all hard lines and shadows. “What can you do?”
“Yes. What can I do?”
He pulls me to him, his hands fanning out on my lower back. “You can go home with me, get naked, and stay that way.”
A few days ago his boldness would have flustered me, but not now, and this isn’t about sex anyway. “Will that help?”
“Temporarily,” he says. “Yes.”
His voice is tight, controlled, but his heart thunders beneath my palm. “Then why are we still here?” I ask.
“I was just wondering the same thing.” He cups the back of my head, an action he favors, and one I’ve come to like, and gives me a hard, fast kiss. “I’m going to deal with Frank.” He sets me away from him and just that quickly, he’s gone, and I’m leaning on the railing, watching him depart.
Jessica appears almost instantly, and I turn to face her. “I’m loyal to Shane but we are not, and never were, romantic,” she says.
“I sensed that.”
“He did something for my family in a time of need. A big something and I’m forever loyal. I cannot be turned by his family.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because it doesn’t matter that he’s pretending to use you to protect you. They will try to turn you. They will try to make you think he’s betrayed you in some way, and I have to make sure I’m not a tool they use to do that.”
“They who?” I ask, making sure I’m clear on the exact people she sees as enemies.
“His family and anyone working for them.”
“All of them? Even his mother?”
“I don’t trust any of them. They will make you doubt him.”
“No, they won’t.”
“That wasn’t a question, Emily. They will make you doubt him.”
“No, damn it, they won’t.”
“They had better not,” she says, her gaze sharpening, “because if you care about him at all, you cannot become the only weapon they have against him.” She walks away and I hug myself, guilt clawing at me. Jessica’s right. I can’t be a weapon to tear him down. Every decision I make has to revolve around that absolute. And that’s the moment my cell phone rings.
Digging my phone from my pocket, I move to the far side of the balcony, away from the open glass door, and hit the answer button. “Where have you been, Kevin?” I demand softly.
“Do not call me and make threats like you did earlier,” he growls.
“That wasn’t a threat,” I promise. “That was survival.”
“I told you, the less we talk the safer we are.”
“You also told me I’d be free of this in a month, two tops, and I’m headed toward that two.”
“It’s going to be a few more weeks.”
“I can’t do this for a few more weeks.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“I have a choice,” I counter, “and yes. That’s a threat.”
“To yourself. You know the consequences.”
“That you created and you said you had proof to make go away.”
“Proof that has to be absolute, and it’s not absolute yet. Stay your course. I’ll be in touch. Get rid of the phone you’re on and text me your new number.”
“I need—”
He ends the call before I can say “money” and I stuff my phone back into my pocket, turning to face the railing, my hands settling on the steel. So much for using my power. I failed miserably and I lower my head, forcing myself to think. Suddenly Shane’s hands are on my shoulders and I whirl around to face him, afraid he’s heard my call.
“Hey,” I say, his big body crowding mine, his eyes too attentive, searching my face. “What did you do about the apartment?”
“I bought it,” he says, and the very fact that he’s answered, tells me no. He did not overhear my conversation.
“Already? How is that possible?”
“Money talks, but I’m not going to live here.”
My brows furrow. “Then why buy it?”
“It’s a damn good investment.”
“So is Jessica lining up more places for you to look at?”
“Yes, and I might buy them too, but I’m staying at the Four Seasons.”
“I’m confused, Shane. Does this mean you’re leaving?”
“Leaving? No. I’m not going anywhere. It hit me when we were talking earlier: I decided to look for a place before I found out my father rented an apartment in my building for his mistress, if I leave now, he’ll think he drove me out. I’m staying in the city, in the building, and I’m taking the apartment and the company.” His hands come down on my arms, branding me, in that way his touch always brands me, and he closes the tiny space between us. “The way I’m going to take you when we get back to the Four Seasons.”
“Yes. Please.”
“There’s a word I like and haven’t made you say near enough.”
He kisses me, quick but perfect, and I’m getting used to the way he kisses me all the time. And when he grabs my hands and leads me toward the door, I let him. Because in the next few weeks, I’m either going to have to tell him the truth or leave, and the only way I can tell him the truth is if I fix my mess. Whatever the case, I’m going to savor every second I have with this man.