Hideaway

by Penelope Douglas

  Following the meeting with the “assistant” earlier, I’d intended to come straight here, but instead of taking the exit off the bridge, I’d just kept going, getting lost in my car for nearly two hours.

  Banks.

  Jesus Christ. Six years ago, she more than piqued my interest. Today, she been cold, eerily calm, and very collected. I remembered her far differently, though. She’d tried so hard to be tough that night, but those dark eyes and how they could level me, and those lips…. Yeah, I remembered. She didn’t stay controlled for long.

  And then a couple years later, when Rika hung with us one night and Banks had become a memory, I’d been captivated by our Little Monster, because she reminded me of Banks. The innocence, the fight, the way I wanted to look out for her…

  But as quickly as she’d torn into my world, she’d run away, and all inside of a few hours, one night, six years ago.

  Who was she? Where did she come from?

  I pushed through the door to my office and slammed it behind me, dropping my bag and ripping off my jacket.

  I quickly changed into some workout pants and running shoes, grabbing a towel and pulling on a T-shirt as I left the office. At the front desk I passed Caroline, one of the college-aged, part-timers we’d hired, who gave me a sweet smile as always. I held up my hand, and she tossed me a water bottle from the cooler behind her. Same drill every day. She knew what to do.

  “Uh, Mr. Mori?” she spoke up as I kept walking.

  I slowed to a stop and turned around. “What is it?”

  Her blonde ponytail sat high, and her navy blue polo with the Graymor Cristane logo on the left breast was pristine and ironed, as always.

  She looked behind me and gestured to something, and I turned my head, getting aggravated. Really, the girl acted like I was going to eat her if she spoke.

  But, spotting the two visitors loitering in the lobby, I suddenly forgot about Caroline.

  Banks stood next to the wall to my right, holding one of the bamboo poles from the rack hanging there. She looked up at me and then back down, absently examining the weapon as if she were window shopping with no other purpose for being here.

  Across the room, to her right, stood a man who seemed vaguely familiar. Clearly one of Gabriel’s henchmen, judging by his shaved head, silver chain, tacky leather jacket, and black and blue marks around his eye.

  I set the water bottle and the towel down. Their presence was either a very good sign or a very bad one. I didn’t want trouble, not here.

  Walking slowly toward the girl, I held her eyes as I reached out and gently took the stick from her hands.

  “It’s a shanai,” I told her. “A Japanese sword.”

  She stared at me, expressionless, and the rise and fall of her chest was steady and slow. Controlled. Too controlled. I backed away with the weapon, trying not to take in her appearance or revel in how it amused me.

  A simple, black ski cap covered every single piece of what I knew was rich, dark brown hair underneath, and instead of the suit she’d worn today, she now hid nearly every inch of her shape in a pair of old jeans with rips on the knees, combat boots, and a short, black jacket buttoned up to the neck, her hands disappearing into the pockets.

  But before she hid them, I noticed she still wore the same fingerless, leather gloves she was wearing earlier today. The only visible skin on her was a bit of her neck and her face.

  I liked that. She was still a mystery.

  I pulled my gaze reluctantly from her, turning my head to the other man. “Have you come with a message?” I asked. “Will Gabriel do business?”

  The man, whom I judged to be in his mid-thirties by the wrinkles setting in around his eyes, cast a quick glance at the girl and then tipped his chin up at me.

  “Why do you want the hotel, exactly?”

  “I’m a businessman,” I replied. “I’m acquiring property, like businessmen do.”

  His eyes shot to her again, and I narrowed my own, following his gaze. Banks stared back at him, and I swore I saw a slight smile on her face.

  A silent dialogue passed between them, and I watched them both carefully.

  The man finally drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Mr. Torrance is interested in opening up a dialogue with you.”

  But I just scoffed. “Opening up a dialogue…” I mocked under my breath. “Yes, I know Gabriel’s dialogue very well. And I already agreed that his son could return, but I’m going to need assurances of my own.”

  He shot a quick glance at Banks—again—and then answered me, resolute. “Ms. Fane will be safe.”

  “You can’t guarantee that,” I argued, stepping forward. “We both know Damon doesn’t let anyone speak for him.”

  “Damon will do what his father says.”

  I stood there, keeping quiet and thinking.

  If Gabriel was willing to let me buy the hotel, that meant Damon might not be there, after all. Or, quite possibly, Gabriel just didn’t know where his son was. Prison had embarrassed our families immensely, and Gabriel Torrance was not interested in seeing his son screw up again.

  If he knew where his son was, he’d bring him home. My intent, though, was to find him before his father did.

  “I want inside the hotel first,” I told him. “I need to dig around a bit and evaluate how much work it will take me.”

  His eyes darted over to her again, but it was so quick I missed her silent response.

  “No problem,” he finally answered.

  Why did he keep looking at her? What the hell was going on?

  I looked at them both, perplexed and forgetting I’d just agreed to buy a multi-million-dollar hotel.

  Licking my lips, I twirled the staff in my hand in a circle, musing. “You know, when I was fourteen, Gabriel told Damon and me something I’ll never forget. ‘Women’ he said, ‘are either toys or tools. They’re good for play or good for pay.’” I spun the staff slowly and watched them carefully. “In all the years I was friends with Damon, I noticed a striking difference between his home and mine. My mother has never been a docile woman, while any woman I encountered in the Torrance house was either for sex or a servant. Toy or tool.”

  “And?” the man asked.

  “And I’m not sure which category she fits into,” I said, pointing the staff at Banks. “Every time I ask you a question, you look to her for the answer. It’s odd for a woman to have that kind of power, given what I know of Gabriel Torrance.”

  He glanced at her again, appearing to look for direction.

  She was the one in charge.

  Not him.

  That’s it.

  How interesting.

  I held the weapon at my side and approached her, staring down. “Let’s cut through the shit and deal direct, huh?” I said, my patience now gone.

  As I entered her space, the man approached quickly, probably on guard, and I shot out the pole, hitting him in the chest and stopping him. “And if I remember correctly,” I said, looking over at him, “she knows how to do her own fighting, so go wait in the car.”

  His jaw flexed, his body stiffened, and he was ready for a fight. But he glanced at her, waiting for the order.

  She hesitated a moment, finally giving him a nod and dismissing him. He shot me a glare before turning on his heel and storming out of the dojo.

  Banks fixed her eyes back on me, cocking her head.

  “Are you scared of me now, kid?” I asked. “Can’t do your own talking anymore?”

  I wanted to make her uncomfortable as payback for playing with me today, but I didn’t want her to lose her spine, either.

  But instead of answering, she just turned her head away, seemingly bored.

  I chuckled to myself, walking to the wall and placing the weapon back on the rack.

  “So, what impression did you gather today to pass on to Damon’s father?” I inquired. I wanted to know what we said in that room that gave her assurance when we thought it was only a servant eavesdropping.

  “Whatever
it was,” she replied, “he liked what he heard, because he has a proposition for you. I’m here with his authority.”

  My hand shook, and I pulled it away from the wall. Her voice. She’d only said a few words earlier today, but now…. That same smooth taunt I remembered showed itself, bringing me back. I walked around, facing her and folding my arms across my chest.

  She was a good six inches shorter than me, but with the cocky glint in her eye, she might as well have been six inches taller.

  “Kai, is everything okay?” Rika asked behind me.

  “It’s fine,” I said, not looking at her.

  Judging from all the chatter in the distance and the sound of locker room doors swinging open and closed down the hallway, Rika must’ve been done with her class.

  “Rika?” I called over my shoulder, catching her before she walked off. “Would you get Will and Michael and meet us in the office, please?”

  I didn’t see her face but heard her hesitant, “Sure.”

  She left, and I turned, waving my arm and gesturing to Banks. “Down the hall. Ladies first.”

  I expected some flash of aggravation to cross her face, but there was nothing. Her stare remained flat as she brushed past me, heading toward the hallway, and I followed close, my heart pumping a little harder as I gazed at the back of her.

  The lace of one of her black boots dragged on the floor, and although I had no doubt she could look after herself, it was amusing how little she cared about her appearance. So different from the women I’d grown up around, at home and at school.

  But my hands knew how beautiful she was. They remembered.

  She stopped next to a door labeled Office and waited for me to open it. I reached around and turned the knob, and she entered, walking in and immediately heading toward the far corner at the back of the office. She turned to face me.

  I almost laughed. Unlike Rika, Banks immediately went into survival mode in an unsure situation. While in enemy territory, take the vantage point with the fewest variables. Positioned in the corner, she only needed to see what was coming at her, not was what coming from behind. I’d been trying to turn that lesson into instinct with Rika for months.

  Closing the door, I moved around the room, taking chairs and placing them at the round table toward the back. One that could hold all five of us.

  “I can imagine dealing with some of Torrance’s associates can be difficult for a woman,” I broached. “Is that why you speak through that mouth-breather out there?”

  Her eyes drifted to me briefly before turning back to the framed charcoal drawing on the wall, an art piece Rika admired and had put in here, since this office was used by all of us. She said it looked like me. Not sure how. It was a figure without a face, various strokes going outside the lines. Abstract art was a love of my father’s I hadn’t inherited, sadly.

  “Did you forget you were the one who told me about The Pope?” I went on, changing the subject.

  “I don’t forget anything.”

  I stopped, leaning on the back of the chair I’d just moved, studying her. After so many years, that shell was not only still there, but it was a lot thicker now. She’d grown up.

  “Do you still think there’s a hidden twelfth floor?”

  “I think you’re far too concerned with the secrets you know exist rather than the ones you don’t.”

  And then she focused her attention back on the pictures and weapons lining the walls, dismissing me.

  What did that mean? What the hell didn’t I know?

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Michael walked in, looking sweaty and tossing a towel over a chair. Will and Rika followed him and shut the door behind them. Will was shirtless and breathing hard, probably having just been amping it up in the weight room.

  “Gabriel’s assistant,” I said, “has come with a proposition.”

  “Hi.” Rika approached her with an outstretched hand. “I’m Erika Fane.”

  Banks simply looked at her. Her eyes fell to Rika’s, a hint of disdain on her face before she turned away again, ignoring her.

  Rika glanced at me with a question in her eyes, and then she pulled her hand away, taking a seat at the table.

  We all followed suit, sitting down.

  Banks took something out from inside her jacket and set it on the table, face up. It was a photo. She pushed it slowly across the wooden table toward me, and I studied the small head shot of a young woman I didn’t recognize. Dark blonde hair, blue eyes, angelic face, pretty enough…. Definitely Michael’s type. Her high cheekbones were tinted pink, and her mouth looked like a candy apple. Young and beautiful.

  “Who’s this?” I asked as everyone silently inched closer to get a better look at the picture.

  “Vanessa Nikova,” Banks replied. “Mr. Torrance’s niece.”

  “And?” I sat back in my chair, trying to appear relaxed.

  “And this is far more than just trading a hotel for a prodigal son, don’t you think?” She eyed me, a condescending look on her face. “Mr. Torrance wants undoubted assurance that you and your friends will bring no harm to his son or his family. It’s going to require more of an investment than just money.”

  She looked down at the picture again. “She’s very beautiful.”

  I narrowed my eyes on her. Beautiful? What?

  They thought I wanted to buy the hotel, but what did this have to do with the arrangement?

  “What are you getting at?” I pressed.

  She cocked her head, a coy smile in her eyes. “Something a little more concrete,” she said. “A future. Alliances are still made this way.”

  Alliances? I looked at my friends, trying to gauge any understanding of what the fuck she was talking about in their eyes, too, but they seemed just as lost as me.

  But as I dropped my gaze to the picture again, it slowly started to hit me. My heart pumped harder, and my fists under my crossed arms clenched.

  She wasn’t serious.

  “You’re talking about a marriage?” Rika blurted out, glaring at her.

  But Banks spoke to me. “She currently lives in London,” she informed me. “She speaks fluent English, French, Spanish, and Russian. She’s well-educated—”

  “Get the fuck out.” Michael laughed bitterly.

  “And she’s… untouched,” Banks finished as if Michael wasn’t about to explode three feet from her.

  I leaned forward, staring at her. Untouched. A virgin.

  “You’re joking,” I charged. What century was Gabriel living in? A marriage? This was fucking ludicrous

  Hell, no!

  But she just cocked her head at me. “The only way we can see that you won’t be tempted to hurt the Torrance family is if you’re invested with the Torrance family,” she explained. “We want an alliance that’s binding.”

  I could barely breathe. I mean, I couldn’t say she was wrong, I guess. Marriages in certain families could be much more about keeping wealth and alliances secure rather than anything else, but there was no way I was doing something like that.

  “For this, you will have complete autonomy over her inheritance,” she told me, “including the properties which her parents left her when they passed away several years ago.” She paused, drawing out the last bit. “And you’ll have The Pope. Free of charge. As a wedding present.”

  Will sat with his arms folded over his chest, watching the scene with mild amusement, while Rika looked at me, troubled. Her entire body was stiff, and she cast a hard look at Banks out of the corner of her eye.

  “He’s not marrying Damon’s cousin, okay?” Michael stood up, looking like he was done talking. “This is fucking bullshit. We don’t need the hotel. We’ll…find what we need on our own.” He gave me a knowing look, indicating our search for Damon.

  Will grabbed the picture off the table and joked, “Well, I’ll marry her.”

  But Michael ignored him, prodding me. “Kai? Tell her to fuck off and leave.”

  But I held her dark gaze, seeing the corner of he
r mouth turn up just slightly, unable to hide her enjoyment at this.

  “Kai?” Rika prompted when I didn’t answer Michael.

  I took a deep breath and sat back in my chair, clearing my throat. “Guys, leave us alone for a minute, okay?”

  “Kai?” Michael said again.

  I looked up at him, trying to appear at ease. “A few minutes, okay?”

  My friends all hesitated, looking between the girl and me and clearly not wanting to leave me alone with her. It was a credit to her, I suppose. That they thought she was that dangerous.

  They left the room and closed the door behind them, and I picked up the photograph, holding it up. “You think you can show me a picture and that alone is supposed to tell me that’s the woman who should have my children?”

  She shrugged. “She’s young, healthy…. What more do you need to know? She’ll please you.”

  I laughed quietly. Jesus Christ. “It takes a lot to please me,” I taunted. “Remember?”

  Her small smirk fell, and she straightened in her chair.

  I flicked the picture back at her, sending it flying across the table. “Tell him to go fuck himself. It’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard of?”

  And this time, she did smile as she picked up the photo in front of her and slid it back inside her jacket.

  “What are you smiling at?”

  “I told him you wouldn’t agree.”

  “You think I should?” I countered. “You think this isn’t just some horrific way for Gabriel to bring me under his control? It’s ridiculous.” I licked my dry lips. “And I’m surprised he’d want a half-Jap polluting the family blood anyway. Seems unlike him.”

  Actually, it was exactly like him. Binding my family to his. Forever in my face.

  She exhaled slowly as if calculating her next words as she folded her hands on the table. “I know what you really want,” she said. “You want to know where Damon is. You don’t want to be surprised. And right now, you’re a rat in a maze. You don’t know which way to turn, and you won’t see that you’ve gone the wrong way until you’ve gone too far.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning you’re the prey right now,” she shot back. “And once…you were the hunter.”