Leo crumbled the brown envelope in his hands as he attempted to figure out what his next moves were. Jonathan and him were not on speaking terms ever since he invited Bailey, his former maid, back to live with him. His agent was still suspicious that she was the thief her great-aunt had accused her of being and had refused to answer Leo’s few phone calls since the day he went chasing after her.
Now, Leo had finally gotten the package he had expected to come, and he wasn’t sure what to do. This was something that Jonathan had always handled in the past.
“Hey, Bailey?” he called to the mousey brown-haired woman lounging on the side of his black leather couch. She turned his way, her blue eyes lighting up with a smile just for him. He made an excuse. “Mail’s on the table, so you know. There’s—uh—there’s something there for you. But I have to go give my trainer a call. I want to see if he can come in next week to start working out. I’ll be in the upstairs office.”
He hated lying to her. When he had finally convinced her to move in with him, they both had made promises to remain honest with each other at all time, especially as Leo attempted to finally sober up in earnest. Yet here he was, a week into his recovery (led almost entirely by Bailey), and he was already sneaking out to his office to conceal his actions. These guilty pangs were rather new to him—lying always seemed almost like second nature—but he simply couldn’t escape the feeling that what he was doing could put their new relationship in jeopardy.
“Okay, Leo. I’ll start dinner. Steak sandwiches sound okay?” Bailey stretched her arms out wide and shook out her legs. It had been a while since she had taken a day off. Relaxing on Leo’s couch as they watched movies together made her feel something completely different—almost normal.
She thought of their long nights together, her nude form enveloped in his, almost holding on for dear life—as if they had each finally found something worth holding onto. She smiled warmly as she thought of the fire between them, the heat… his hands pulling her hair, his hard, muscular body slamming against her breasts, his rough, unsubtle hands wrapping almost entirely around her slender waist as she gave herself to him. She loved letting him take her however he asked. He knew far more than she did, and she was always the willing student. But in spite of his great experience, it was she who always wanted another round with him.
Leo nodded and then turned and raced up the stairs. His feet couldn’t catch the stairs fast enough. He slipped into the office, closing the door behind him. The old room belonged to his father. He hadn’t dared enter since Bailey arrived. But she had convinced him to remove the white sheets from the room and open the drapes once more. The mahogany desk in the center of the room almost shone in the natural light from the large rectangular window. He sat down in the leather armchair and pulled out his phone. He dialed Jonathan’s cell first and then tried his office number.
A woman with a squeaky voice answered. “Jeannie? It’s Leo Connelly. Is Jonathan in?”
“Mr. Winters is in a meeting now. He’ll be out all day, Mr. Connelly.” Leo could tell she was lying. He had called the office enough times to know that Jeannie always patched him through, even when he was busy or with another client.
“Jeannie, that’s bullshit. Please put me through. It’s an emergency.” Leo tried not to raise his voice to the woman, but his frustration was mounting.
He heard a click as the phone went to the sounds of the on-hold music. Leo stood up as he paced, waiting for someone to return back to the line. His eyes glanced to the topless woman in the photograph. She was as fuckable as the day it was taken, but it didn’t matter what she looked like. It was what else was in the picture he was concerned over.
When the phone clicked over once more, he was surprised to not hear Jeannie’s voice. “You don’t know how to take a hint, do you?” Jonathan was irritated. He had wanted nothing to do with Leo until he had calmed down. But apparently, he was going to have to deal with him now. “What the hell did you do now? Is the maid still alive?”
“Funny, Jonathan. She’s still here, and she’s not my maid anymore.”
“Yeah, sure. Okay. When you’re done screwing the help, I’m ready to be your agent again. Got it, Leo?” Jonathan had had plenty of clients attempt to start relationships with their maids or assistants. From his experience, it had never worked out and he was forced to pay off the majority of them to keep them out of the press.
“Listen. I got an envelope in the mail today. No return address. Just a note and a picture of me and Layana on that boat in the Atlantic. There’s a timestamp in the corner.” Leo knew Jonathan would catch on. The other line went silent as his agent tried to piece it together. Leo pulled out the note and began to read out loud the scribbled cursive letter:
Dear Mr. Connelly,
We’re sure the courts or the Commissioner wouldn’t be too happy to see this or the other 20 photos we have. $5 million in 20 days, or we send to the prosecutor. Call 555-674-9099 to make arrangements.
“Please tell me you didn’t call that number,” Jonathan’s voice had peaked.
“No. I called you right away. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Meet me at my condo on Tenth Street tomorrow. We’ll talk there. I don’t want to try to hash this out over the phone.”
The two hung up as Leo raced out of the office, down the stairs, and to the main entryway. Without looking towards the living space, he called out towards Bailey to let her know he was going out for a bit. He used his trainer as an excuse again. It was just another lie in his new tally. But he needed to get out of his mansion. He needed to calm himself down before he was driven to drink from the stress. He knew that any bit of anger or anxiety would drive him off the edge. He couldn’t bear to let Bailey see it happen.
Instead, he would go on a run. He hadn’t forced himself to workout in years, let alone go on a run around the grounds. However, he could think of nothing that would lower his stress other than finding the photographer blackmailing him and punching his lights out. This was going to have to do.
Leo grabbed an old pair of sneakers from a hallway closet and opened the door to the fresh morning air. His feet could barely touch the ground as he began to jog. The wind rustled through his hair, the sun beat down. And soon, the memories from that day in the ocean floated back to him as his pace picked up…
Leo held her tightly in his muscular, bare arms. The sun glistened down on their tan skin as he pulled her impossibly closer. Almost every part of their bodies intertwined in a weave of flesh and bone. Leo longed to envelope her, to feel her from the inside. She was almost everything he imagined her to be. And now that he had her there, on his boat, far away from the noise and the mess of the world they left behind, she was his to do what he may.
Her brown hair whipped back and forth against her naked back as the wind tossed it back and forth. Leo held the strands in place as she slowly untied her swimsuit top halter straps from behind her neck. The fabric inched down her body as she moved to the ties around her back. When she removed the knot, she took the top and threw it to the side. Both laughed as they watched it fall from the top deck to the wooden planks of the yacht.
“Should I?” She stood on her tippy toes to whisper into his ears. Her hands gently traced the outline of his hardened cock as the other ran her fingers through the waistband.
“Not yet…” He could barely speak. The way she was touching and grinding rendered him speechless. Leo turned a bit to grab the tropical drink sitting on the small bar table.
She reached up to the glass as he chugs the sugary, strawberry flavored concoction down. “Save some for me!” she urgently cried to him.
“Make me, darling. This one’s mine.” He smiled, revealing the piece of pineapple that formerly rested on the rim of the frothy glass. “But I’ll share this with you.”
She took a step back and studied him. Humor filled her glossy blue eyes as she craned her neck back and opened her red painted lips. He dropped the piece, fruit first as she sucked gently on it, luring out all of its juices. A bit of the yellow liquid escaped her mouth as she took a bite and pulled it away from his mouth. She chewed the rest of it as her hand dabbed at her mouth. He, too, licked his lips. Every bit of her was as delicious as it looked.
He shouted to the cabin as a man appeared holding a tray with more drinks. This time, it was champagne with orange and strawberry juice. Without acknowledging his hired help, he took the crystal flutes from him and handed one to his partner. She chugged it back even faster than him, swallowing it all in one large gulp. He watched her, impressed as he sips on his. She took another from the silver tray and repeated the motion.
He cautioned her as he drank his glass, “Woah there, girl. Don’t go too fast. We don’t want to end this perfect day too soon.”
“Don’t tell me what I can do, Lionheart. I know how much liquor I can hold.” She was drunk, and she knew it. But she couldn’t care less. She needed the courage alcohol gave her to do what had to be done.
Leo stared her down from toe to head, studying the way she peered over his shoulder and the way her body turned and posed in such sensual ways. He couldn’t help it anymore. Leo scooped the woman up with both his hands so she was just hovering over the ground. He let out a low, guttural growl, “Don’t call me Lionheart!”
She let out a yelp as he placed her on the metal bars. She was just one wrong move from falling overboard. Still, neither of them cared. His head dived towards her bare breasts as his lips circled her nipples and his tongue flicked at the small brown tips. His hands pulled her thin, oiled thighs towards him so she could feel every bit of his erection pressing up against the thin material of her bikini bottom.
“Mmmm. Now that looks like fun. Save some for me, guys.” A soft, slurred third voice approached him from behind. The other woman’s arms circled around his waist as he could feel her naked body press against his. Leo lowered the girl onto the deck and spun around to give attention to the other. She tasted just like rum and the imported truffles he had in his bedroom. Her hair was still tangled from their last romp.
Leo led the three women to the deck’s doorway. As he turned, a faint glitter catches his attention. Despite being drunk, he could tell it was not just the sun popping off the waves of the Atlantic Ocean. “Fernando?” he called to his boat’s staff.
The smallish man stuck his head out from the doorway where the women just entered. “Yes, sir? Shall I bring more drinks?”
“Yes, please. Bring the bottle to my room. Ask the girls what they want, as well. But, Fernando, did you spot us passing any boats on our way out here?”
Fernando stood still as a statue as he looked forward. It wasn’t his job to become too chummy with the ship’s passengers—nor to pass judgments on their lifestyle. He was there to work. “Yes, sir. I believe we passed a few speedboats. Nothing too lavish like this.”
Leo’s mind tried to wrap around what his man had tried to tell him, but the alcohol had gotten in the way. He tried the direct approach instead. “Did you see any cameras? Any photographers? Anyone taking pictures of us.”
Fernando swallowed as he answered, “Yes, sir. About a half hour ago, I believe there were photographers—”
He stopped suddenly as Leo grabbed him by his collar and lifted him off of the ground by his shoulders. “What the fuck, man? Seriously?! What the actual fuck?” He paced around nervously. “Do you know what I was doing when they were taking photos?”
“You were, er...” He swallowed, unsure what to say, “In an embrace with Miss Layana as she removed her top…I believe.”
“Dammit!” Leo screamed, his hands running through his hair. Fernando took ten steps back towards the door as he regretted ever taking this job. Leo dismissed him with the wave of his hand.
Getting caught by the paparazzi wasn’t the alarming part of what he was told. It was being photographed outside of the US with a woman who was married. The large amount of glasses and bottles on the table most likely didn’t help him either. He was not supposed to be here with her or with the alcohol. He was supposed to be hold up in some rehab facility in Tahoe.
He dove his hands into the pockets of his black board shorts as he fished out his phone. He barely had reception out at sea, but he did have enough to make a call to the one person he knew would help. “Jonathan? It’s Leo. Look, we have a big problem.”
“Talk to me, Leo.” Jonathan’s voice sounded distracted as Leo could hear voices in the background.
“I’m not in Tahoe, man. I broke out. I couldn’t take that place anymore with its hippy, new wave bullshit. I’m not a meditating kind of guy, if you know what I mean.” Leo tried to come off sober, but the way he slurred his consonants and rambled on clearly gave him away. He already lied about one thing, why try to conceal some more?
“You’re what? What the fuck are you doing?” Jonathan’s cool broke. The voices in the distance grew farther away as he continued. His own voice grew muffled to a whisper as he continued, “You know the judge isn’t gonna like this. She was already gunning for you. You pulling this stunt is gonna land you in jail. Do you want that, man?”
“No, I don’t. I just needed an escape.” Leo tried to justify it, but he knew Jonathan wouldn’t understand. He was the guy that played by the rules, or at least tried to bend them for his clients. Leo knew Jonathan’s life would be so much easier if he just did as he was told.
Jonathan remained silent until Leo spoke again, “I took the Lady Helena out to sea. I figured I wouldn’t get caught. No one would see me. It’s not like I went to some bar or crashed a spring break event. I just went from the airport to the boat.”
“Who knows where you are?” Jonathan asked, calculating the risk.
“The four crew guys and the captain.” Leo looked around him for prying ears as he continued, “And Layana Richards and her friend Sophie…something.”
“Layana Richards? For fuck’s sake man! You know she’s married to the commissioner! I hope, for your sake, the photographers didn’t catch her.”
Leo looked into the cabin at the man who he just accosted. He was frantically pouring drinks into the crystal stemware. Leo could see his hands tremble as the bottle’s rim clinked up against the clear glass. “That’s the reason why I’m calling, Jon. Fernando, the, uh, butler or something—he says he thought he saw a boat of photographers pass by while Layana and I were—uh—doing—oh for fuck’s sake, you know what.”
“I get it. I get it. But there’s nothing we can do right now. Get your ass back to Chicago ASAP and don’t let anyone else catch you. In fact, I’m sending you a car. Don’t you dare fly. The driver will be at the pier in an hour. I expect you make that ride. He’ll check you in at the Beacher. I expect you remain quiet. And sober. Got it?”
Leo’s attention was fading. He had walked into the cabin’s master suite where the two women were stretched over his bed. Sophie remained topless while Layana had wrapped herself up in one of the white silk robes from his bathroom. They were both eyeing him with a deep hunger.
“Leo!” Jonathan screamed into the receiver, forgetting he was supposed to be whispering.
“Yeah. I hear you. The Beacher Inn. Car. At the pier. One hour. Bye, Jonathan.” Leo clicked his phone off and handed it to Fernando who followed behind him with the newly filled tray and an additional bottle of champagne.
“Girls!” Leo called out, opening his arms out wide as he entered the palatial room. “Tonight we drink. Because tomorrow, I’m back to Chicago.” He took the first glass he could get ahold of, not caring what it was, and then tossed it back dramatically as he bent his entire body in the motion.
“Fernando! Tell the captain we need to head back to the pier. I’ve got a guy there waiting.” Fernando scurried back again to his post. He shut the door behind him just as Leo removed his shorts and dived into the white sheets of his yacht’s king-sized bed, four arms ready to catch him.
...
Bailey had heard Leo’s calls and his closing of the door, but Bailey couldn’t be bothered to pay attention. She had not moved from her spot near the counter where her own brown, tan, and white envelopes were scattered. On the top of the pile was one addressed to her.
The handwriting was hard to make out, but Bailey instantly recognized its sender. She slowly ripped the folds of the envelope and carefully peeled back to the seal as if the sender had mailed a bomb. As she removed the letter, she inhaled a deep, calming breath. Whatever the letter said, she had to read it. Her and her daughter’s life depended upon it. Her ex-husband had found her and it was only a matter of time before Joe discovered where Lily was.