Private Disclosures

by Raleigh Davis

“How did you figure that out?” She’s relentless with these questions, jabbing me with them. The more I answer, the more she demands.

  This time I take the long breath. She’s not going to like this. “One of the employees at a start-up I invested in is cousins with Fuchs’s pool guy. The pool guy wanted to expand his business—I gave him the funds and asked that he keep an eye out for anything unusual at Fuchs’s house.”

  “He was spying on Fuchs for you?”

  My mind rejects that word, hard. “The money I gave him was a loan,” I say with deliberation, “which he’s already paid back. I just mentioned that if he happened to see something, he could let me know. And he did. It wasn’t much that he told me, a few touches between them that he saw. In the end, I confirmed it all with Pippa herself.”

  Anjelica faces me. Her eyes are wide, but the rest of her features are tight. “She told you what was going on?”

  “I told you she was thinking about leaving. Pippa’s not dumb—she wanted to keep all her cards on the table. And I was a good card to have.”

  Telling me wasn’t some kind of confession or expression of trust, at least not in the usual definition of trust. Pippa and I were using the other as leverage. If she told Fuchs I had someone on his payroll in my debt, that I knew about their relationship, it would blow my entire plan to hell. I suppose I trusted Pippa as much as she trusted me in our strange relationship.

  Anjelica watches me with what I think is sadness in her eyes. She lifts a hand, sets it against my cheek.

  I gasp at the contact. Her hand is warm, her skin soft, and the touch of our skin is electric. I want to reach up, to hold her hand against me forever. But I stop myself. I shake inwardly from the effort, but I stop myself.

  “You’re full of contradictions, do you know that?” she asks. “Is there anyone out there who’s done you a favor? Or do you always keep the balance on your side?”

  “You.” I turn my head so that her hand moves across my jaw. “You’re helping me with this.”

  She watches me for a long moment. “So one person. That’s it.” She lets her hand fall. “And Mark, Logan, Finn, Paul, and Elliot. They count too.”

  “I made them all rich,” I point out. “We are who we are because of the algorithm I developed.”

  It’s perhaps the first time I’ve taken credit for it. Anjelica knows I wrote it—someone told her at some point, I’m not sure who—but I’ve never admitted it to anyone. No one knows besides the Bastards. And her.

  She shakes her head. “The money is because of what you did. And the power. But who you all are… that came before. Money had nothing to do with it. Are you going to tell them about Pippa? The whole truth?”

  “She wants to disappear. And I’m going to let her.” I look up at the house, which is dark again. “Too bad she couldn’t tell us more.”

  Anjelica looks too. “We did learn something very important,” she says. “He goes back to places meaningful to him. And he wants them kept like he remembers. But he doesn’t want anyone to know about those places.”

  She gives me a significant look. As if I too do that.

  But I don’t. I never revisit the past.

  “Okay,” I say. “So we just need to keep working our way through that list.”

  “Maybe.” She taps her lip. “I think there’s something we’re missing though.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. He likes to hide things. I keep coming back to that.” She sighs. “I’m going to be thinking about it all night.”

  “Then let’s keep going through the list. Together.” I’m not planning on sleeping much anyway. That list is going to be on my mind too.

  Her gaze catches mine, holds. “At… at your place?”

  I’ve never had her over to my house. Or anyone really. Occasionally I’ll invite one of the Bastards over for a work meeting, but that’s it.

  She’s asking to come in. Of course I can’t say no to that.

  “Sure.” My voice is deeper than I expect. “My place it is.”

  Chapter 14

  I asked him to take me to his house, to a place in his life I’ve never been… and he said yes.

  Does he even realize he’s opening up to me? Slowly, reluctantly, but it’s happening. I never would have known about Pippa before. He’d have handled that entirely on his own, telling no one.

  Maybe someday he can tell me all the other things he’s done entirely on his own, kept secret from everyone else in his life. Maybe someday he can tell the rest of the Bastards too.

  Maybe then I can rethink my rejection of him. Hell, I already am.

  For right now I’ll take this view from his apartment, which is stunning. He has two full floors at the top of one of the high-rises in SoMa, a penthouse to end all penthouses. There are views of the city from all sides, glittering beneath us like a living jewel. And here we are, surrounded by sleek luxury, sitting atop it all.

  “Do you want anything?” Dev asks. “The housekeeper has the fridge stocked, although I’m not sure exactly what’s in there.”

  “You don’t know?” It’s his fridge—shouldn’t it be things he likes?

  He shrugs. “She insists that I have some kind of food around even though I don’t eat here much.”

  “Let’s go see what’s in the fridge then. We’ll go through the list in the kitchen.”

  “Work in the kitchen?” He’s genuinely confused, which looks adorable on him.

  I’m about to tease him about doing homework at the kitchen table when I catch myself. He probably wasn’t allowed to do things like that. When a kitchen is cooking for dozens and dozens of residents instead of a family, it probably isn’t an informal gathering space.

  “Where would you do your homework when you were a kid?” I ask instead as we head toward the kitchen.

  “We were assigned desks,” he says. “The school library was my favorite spot. It was quieter.”

  His kitchen is inhumanly clean. I’m guessing he’s never once cooked in here. I’m wondering if he ever even learned to cook. But I’ll save that question for another time.

  When I open the fridge, I see his housekeeper has good taste. There are several really nice cheeses in there, some cured meats, fancy olives, and everything else you might want to throw yourself together a gorgeous snack. I start pulling things out, piling them on the island. A peek in the pantry reveals fresh french bread and even soft pretzels.

  “We are going to have quite the feast,” I tell Dev as I find the plates and silverware. “What happens to all this food when you don’t eat it?”

  “The housekeeper takes it home.”

  I pause with a plate in my hand. He’s basically having his housekeeper buy groceries for herself with his money. I’m betting that was his idea somehow.

  “Good for her.” I set the plate in front of him and start putting meat, cheese, bread, and fruit on it. “It’s like a picnic indoors,” I say when I finish.

  He’s wryly amused as he picks up a bite of pretzel with a smear of mustard on it. “I’ve never done this.”

  “Eaten in the kitchen?” I close my eyes as I swallow some gouda. Lovely. “Or had a picnic indoors?”

  “Both.”

  I knew this kitchen was way too clean to have ever been used. Some deep itch in me wants to mess it up, to cook and eat and bring him into this room. The kitchen was always the center of our home growing up, where we did almost everything. My kitchen is probably my favorite room in my own house. I want him to have a favorite room, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t. The kitchen is a good place to start.

  Dev’s pulled out the listings and is already going through them. “Were there any foreign addresses that were conspicuous?”

  “There’re several there, but none that stood out like the Poland address.” I lean over his shoulder so I can see what he’s looking at. The scent of his soap—and his skin—surrounds me. If I tilt my head, I can kiss the patch of skin behind his ear, right between those two dark curls.
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br />   My fingers tingle as I remember him taking the pear from my hand, all the way back in Poland. How warm his mouth was, the soft caress of his tongue. How badly I wanted to offer him another one, my pulse hammering through every inch of me. Especially the inches between my thighs.

  “I finished the pears,” I blurt out suddenly. “I sent them back the jar along with some wine from Napa and lavender from the farmers’ market. They sent me some plum jam. It’s really good.”

  He turns his head and his eyes darken when he sees how close I am. “They gave you more fruit?” he asks slowly.

  I nod.

  “Is the jam as good as the pears?” His voice is so deep it drags along my skin. I shiver even though he hasn’t even touched me.

  “No.” I wet my lips. “Not quite.”

  For a moment I forget what we’re even talking about. There’s only the dark gold of his eyes, molten enough for me to drown in, his gorgeous skin, begging me to touch, and his lips…

  I blink and straighten up. I came here to see his apartment and strategize about Fuchs. Dev might be opening up to me, but my initial objections about any kind of romantic relationship still stand. He’s not ready. He can’t just be candid with me—there are other people who care about him. He needs to see that.

  Sleeping with him would scratch the deepest itch I’ve ever had, one I’ve been carrying for years. And it would open up even deeper wounds I suspect.

  “Do you see anything interesting?” I ask in a slightly strangled voice.

  He lets his gaze run from my head to my feet and back again, lazy and appreciative. But all he says is “Not yet.”

  I force myself to eat some more even though my stomach is jittery as all heck. “He really could be anywhere.” I tear apart some bread. “We’ve learned something about where he’s been but not where he’d be likely to go I guess.”

  “Mmm.” Dev looks up at me through his lashes. “Are you having second thoughts?”

  Am I? I slouch onto the stool, hooking a foot around the leg to steady myself. I don’t think so. I’m just trying to fill the space between us with something other than attraction.

  “No. We’ve seen part of his childhood, college… and his first and only job was running Corvus.” Which leaves us at kind of a dead end because he’s not…

  Holy crap. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it. I snap upright, pushing the stool away. “What about his office?” I smack the countertop with my hand in a burst of excitement. “That’s where he spent most of his time. He’s not there now, obviously, but what if he left some clue there?”

  Why didn’t I think of searching his office first? Probably because I was caught up in going through Fuchs’s past before looking at his present.

  Dev rubs his mouth. “I looked through it briefly when he first disappeared, but I didn’t search it. What do you think he might have left?”

  “We know he likes trophies. The pear tree, Hanult’s house… he bought those to remind himself of victories. Was there anything like that in his office?”

  Dev shakes his head. “Not that I saw. But you’re much better at seeing those things than I am.”

  “You see things too. Just different ones than I do.”

  He makes a noise that might be disagreement. “We’ll go through the office tomorrow together.” He picks up the stack of addresses. “And mark any potential leads in these.”

  It takes about an hour, but eventually we get to the end. We check off any addresses that strike us as unusual, any places that aren’t in cities with tech hubs, or anything else that catches our eye. We’re not exactly being methodical since we don’t really know what we’re looking for.

  The bread and the cheese disappear, and Dev opens a bottle of wine at some point. It’s cozy, friendly… but beneath it all, our attraction lurks. As I laugh at one of his jokes, I can’t help but notice the way his shirt pulls across his shoulders. Or when he reaches for a bite of food, the way the lines of his hands are strong, stark.

  My body’s awareness of him starts as a low background hum, then grows and grows until it’s a hard buzzing in my ears. And from the way he keeps catching my gaze and holding it, those golden eyes hot, he feels the same buzz.

  I resolved not to sleep with him, but with the heat between us and being in his house—finally he was opening up to me—that resolve was weakening.

  When we got through the last page of addresses, I made myself straighten up and put on an impersonal smile. “Well, I’d better go. It’s late and we have an office to search tomorrow.”

  He says nothing, merely watches me with that too-intent stare. It’s not a mask this time—he knows exactly what he wants to do with me, and he’s not hiding it.

  I wet my lips. “I can’t,” I say softly. He’s the most compelling man I’ve ever met… but he’s still the most reserved too. I can’t be the only person he trusts, the only one he ever opens up to.

  He’s got others who care about him and a lot of care in himself to spread around. I want him to see that, and I’m not sure he ever will even if he’s confessed his past to me. It’s a start, but it’s not the end.

  Immediately the mask is back in place. My whole body aches as he closes off again.

  “I’ll take you home.”

  We both move to pick up the plates and start cleaning up. As we do, it strikes me that the kitchen will be barren again once we’re done. And when I’m gone, Dev will be all alone in this too-pristine, too-empty apartment.

  It’s what he wants, but it still hurts me to think about.

  I reach for the fridge handle at the same time he does. Our forearms brush against each other, my bare skin on his. The heat of him is so shocking I pull back.

  Too fast though, and I start to lose my balance. He grabs my elbow, steady, firm, and rights me. My pulse is loud in my ears, heavy between my legs. And breathing is like swimming through quicksand.

  Dev releases me, and I see that his hand is shaking. He braces himself against the counter, his head dropping. Every inch of him is taut, steeled.

  “Anjelica…” The torment in his voice tears at me. “I can’t… Being this close to you all the time… I can only hold back so much. You have to leave. Now.”

  I can’t stop myself; I reach out for him. I know he’s suffering because of me, because of what I asked him to do, but I can’t help but try to comfort him.

  But also because I’m as shaken as he is. My jaw is clenched at how badly I need to touch him.

  When my hand makes contact with his back, everything in me unfurls. Like I can finally fill my lungs after years of being starved for oxygen.

  He’s so still under my hand he might have turned to stone. “Didn’t you hear me?”

  “I did. I… I don’t know how far I can go, but I need at least some part of you.”

  I haven’t been this vulnerable with a man since Kaleb. And I’m so, so terrified. But I can’t ignore my need for Dev anymore.

  He turns. Some of the torment seeps out of him. “Anjie.” He cups my face, so gentle I want to cry. “Whatever you want, I’ll give you.” His thumb rubs over my cheek, and I turn in to his touch. “Let me touch you, please you. I swear I won’t even take off my clothes. Just let me do… what I’ve been imagining.”

  His tone goes dark, velvety. He could ask me to do anything in that voice and I’d probably agree.

  “And tomorrow? What happens tomorrow?” It was never going to be a one-night stand with us. Which is why I’ve tried so hard to avoid this. We’re entangled, for better or worse, and this could make it much, much worse.

  “I don’t know.” The honesty in that is open, real. “I don’t know if I can be the man you want me to be. But… but I can say I’m not the man I was even a few weeks ago. I am trying.”

  “Oh.” I close my eyes, bite my lip. When Dev goes raw, he goes heart-stoppingly raw. I open them again, and his gaze is molten. “This will complicate everything.”

  He actually smiles. “It was already complicated. A
nd we’ll go slow.”

  I know I can trust him, that my wants, my needs, will control everything he does. I’m more worried about my own heart, that it will fall for him without my permission. It might already be doing that.

  But in the end, if he does break my heart, it won’t be willingly. So I tilt my head and press a kiss into his palm, giving him permission to do what he’s been imagining with me.

  Chapter 15

  Dev’s bedroom is as stark as the rest of the apartment. Everything is done in sleek lines, luxurious materials, but the overall effect is impersonal. Like someone chose all this without really knowing him. His office is more personal, but that’s probably because I decorated it for him.

  It’s too dark is what it is. Dev needs lightness around him.

  But then he takes my arm, turns me to face him, and I forget about the decor. The heat in his eyes is all the light we’ll need.

  When he looks at me, his expression is completely open. He’s drinking me in—no walls, no reserve, nothing between him and me.

  It’s heady, and I suddenly regret telling him I could only do so much. That I agreed to him keeping his clothes on.

  But I’ll regret it even more in the morning if I go back on our agreement. I have to protect something of myself, even as I give in.

  I reach up, run my fingers through his hair. It’s so thick and soft, the ends curling around my fingertips. If he let it grow longer, it’d be like a mane, a perfect frame for his golden eyes.

  My hands begin to tremble as I imagine asking him to grow his hair out, asking for anything from him beyond tonight.

  Maybe someday I will. Maybe tonight is the first step toward something like that.

  “Anjie?” He’s felt my shiver; of course he has. There’s never been anyone so attuned to me as he is.

  “I’m fine.” I smile, rake my fingers through his curls. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”

  He doesn’t smile back. He’s intent, serious. Determined. When he reaches for the hem of my shirt, he goes slowly, waiting for me to stop him.