My gaze slid downward, caressing the length of his body, and halted on the firm bulge that the material of his trousers couldn’t conceal. He was just as aroused as I was.
“Join me,” I whispered and sank into the water all the way to my chin.
Chapter 28
Marcus
The office in Charlotte’s absence was a complete nightmare. Had she not asked me to pick up some necessary papers she had ordered from Sofia, I wouldn’t have even gone near the building.
I strode into the interns’ office, and the buzz of conversation ceased as four pairs of eyes turned to me. Unaffected, I went to my desk and started typing an email to Charlotte while I waited for her assistant to give me the documents I needed.
I saluted my so-called colleagues but otherwise made no attempt to join their discussion. I did not doubt Charlotte’s judgment, but by God, the interns she had picked were insufferable.
Matt Russell and Adam Harris were best buddies and equally arrogant. Despite the camaraderie they boasted, I knew for a fact that both of them were stabbing each other in the back.
Victoria Brown, although she had the beautiful face of a supermodel and a matching body, was the queen of vanity. Her inner ugliness eclipsed her physical beauty, rendering her dull and uninteresting.
The only decent person in the room was Phillip Foster, who I liked although I hadn’t had much contact with him, and his affinity for Charlotte irked my possessive side a bit.
“Mm—are you free this evening?”
I looked up to find Victoria Brown leaning against my desk. Fidgeting with the hem of her red jacket, she cast me unappealing, flirtatious stares that weren’t by far as subtle as she imagined.
“I’m afraid I am not.” The chill in my voice stunned her, and her mouth hung open.
“Oh, come on,” she insisted, recovering quickly. “We are all going to a bar nearby. It’s called L’Affaire. Do you know it?”
“I do know it. I also know it’s not the proper environment for a group of lawyers.” My disdain was hardly concealed. Ms. Brown frowned before a plastic smile spread on her face, trying to lure a man who had already been lured by another.
“We are not going as lawyers but as friends. Think about it. It will be fun.”
“Maybe I will drop by with my date.”
I knew that wouldn’t happen, but I just couldn’t help myself. Her kittenish expression turned suddenly into a venomous, strained look that killed the last remnants of her appeal. She was a woman who had visibly never been faced with rejection. Being the one who acquainted her with it was a pleasure in itself.
“Mr. King, your presence is required upstairs.” Sofia appeared in the doorway with her glasses hanging around her neck and her hands struggling to contain a frightening amount of papers.
I sent my email, turned off the computer, then followed the kind-eyed woman without casting another glance at the frozen harpy by my desk.
“My father?” I asked between gritted teeth once we stepped outside. Her abrupt but sympathetic nod was my only answer.
By the elevators, my father’s assistant waited for me with a huge smile that rivaled Ms. Brown’s. I had to clench my teeth to swallow the bitter words that wanted to rush out.
The lady sported platinum hair, perfect, long legs, and big, luscious breasts that were too large for her slender figure. Her gray eyes roamed almost hungrily over my body, the kindness as fake as her plump, red-tinted lips. I knew what she was doing—she was comparing me to my father. And I knew who she was—his whore.
“Mr. King is waiting for you,” she said and led me to a conference room.
Isaac King was standing tall and stiff, looking out the window and facing what he hoped one day would become his kingdom. Even still and silent, the man looked authoritative. I braced myself for another pointless lecture and stepped inside.
“Anything else I can help you with, Mr. King?”
Of course, darling, just not right now, I thought scornfully, glowering at my father’s rigid back.
“You may retire, Tessa.”
The frosty dismissal didn’t affect her in the slightest, or if it did, she had learned to hide her disgruntlement perfectly.
I debated whether to sit or stand, not because my father intimidated me, but because I wanted to leave as soon as possible. He turned and took the seat at the head of the conference table in one fluid movement then gestured to me with a bored air to do the same. Surprising him, I sat, but that didn’t mean I had become compliant.
“You’re doing a magnificent job here, Son.”
“It doesn’t suit you to compliment me, Father.”
Merciless eyes regarded me coolly. The kind preamble was a useless postponement of Isaac’s actual intent. His niceties disturbed me more than his insults because I knew that a stealthy man was to be feared more than one who attacked you boldly.
For a fraction of a second, I wondered if the unscheduled meeting was because of my relationship with Charlotte. In the short-lived silence, I realized that I couldn’t care less if my father found out or not.
“You seem to have gained Charlotte’s trust, maybe even her esteem, I might add. That is a good thing, Son. You are making progress.”
“What is this about, Father?”
“Are you in a hurry?” he questioned, the same disgustingly benevolent smile curving his mouth but not reaching his eyes. “Then I shall not keep you for long. In fact, I did not bring you here to meet with me. I brought you here to meet someone.”
“And who is that?”
“Meet Julian Hudson.”
Right on cue, the door of the conference room opened, and a gawky man staggered inside. Holding a stack of papers, he struggled to keep his balance. Alarmed, gunmetal gray eyes, thickly laced by long, dark lashes, looked up to meet mine. With my arms folded across my chest, an arched eyebrow, and implacable expression, I analyzed the man, and he squirmed.
Relatively tall and rather leaner than muscular, his body projected a dormant vitality that was in complete opposition to the way he presented himself. Stumbling his way to the seat across from me, he pushed rectangular glasses up a small, sculpted nose.
He was too beautiful for a man, lacking the ruggedness I was accustomed to seeing in the mirror each morning. He had the sort of face that appeared on magazines and compelled you to do as he ordered.
He placed the stack of papers to his left then steepled his fingers on the tabletop. Suddenly, he was the one analyzing me. He took off his eyeglasses and placed them carefully in front of him on the table. He straightened the knot of his tie and smoothened his hands over his suit jacket.
He made a show out of every movement, every breath, and every changing plane of his face. Little by little, his expression turned hard and dangerous until eventually, the man who sat across from me was no longer the same jumbled man who had entered the room but an impressively confident person who commanded the room with a mere glance.
“Now we can get properly acquainted. I am Julian Hudson. The one who entered the room was Ian Quinn.”
“Beg your pardon?”
Julian Hudson’s, or Ian Quinn’s, or God knew whose eyes swept to my father questioningly. Isaac shook his head then leaned in, wearing the same expression he had worn the night he told me he had been a fraud for almost his entire life. And suddenly, I knew who the man across from me was—the man in charge, the man who wanted to recruit me. I directed my glare at him, but he merely smiled and made himself more comfortable in his seat.
“I suppose there is no need to explain who I am or why I am here. That’s good. I disclosed one of my identities as a sign of trust, Marcus. I can’t expect you to trust me if I don’t offer you the same in return. I chose to make the first move, and I hope to not be wrong about you.”
“Yes, you are here to recruit me, but you know nothing about me. If you had, you wouldn’t make me this offer in the first place,” I spat and struggled not to slam my fist against the table.
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��I admit you are not my first choice. In fact, you weren’t an option at all until your father convinced me. Since we are running out of time, we are willing to negotiate and accommodate any requirements you may have.”
“My only requirement is to stay the hell out of my life.”
Hudson’s assessing eyes lingered on me before he glanced at Isaac, who answered an unspoken question by stiffly shaking his head. Being clueless irked me and didn’t help any in the frail attempt to control my temper.
Displeased for reasons outside of my comprehension, Hudson drummed his fingers on the table, his gaze stuck on the mount of papers he had brought with him. Suddenly, I doubted they had been brought only for artistic effect.
“I see.” Somber eyes locked on mine as he slid across the table a relatively thin folder labeled with my name.
Taking the dossier and skimming through it meant I would play their game, and I definitely didn’t want to offer that kind of satisfaction to my father, but in the end, curiosity got the best of me.
I was horrified to see a detailed chronology of my academic history, including marks and the original notes of my teachers, copies of my birth certificate, identity card, passport, all my diplomas, and all the contracts I had ever signed.
Then, as if I hadn’t already reached the pinnacle of a horrible nightmare, I turned the page to stumble upon a series of pictures of me, starting from my very first year of college up to the present day. Pictures of my graduation, of countless races, of late-night parties at L’Affaire, of Liv and me, of me entering the building of CKM Engineering, then there were a few blank pages as if some images had been pulled out, and eventually, there were a few snapshots of me at the airport. Each picture had a note stuck to it, and each picture meant a grave infringement of my privacy.
“You had me followed?” I roared, jumping to my feet. My ominous scowl and my white-knuckled fists slammed against the clear evidence of their scrutiny didn’t bother or surprise them in the slightest.
“I had you checked up on, and you passed,” Hudson explained matter-of-factly. I wasn’t completely sure who made me angrier—the utter stranger who seemed to have taken the liberty of putting me under a microscope like I was a damn guinea pig or the stranger who was my father. “I need to know exactly who I am working with. As you can see, I know more about you than you think.”
Through the searing rage and the cutting feeling of betrayal, my mind focused on the blank pages and the missing pictures. I found Hudson’s unwavering eyes and saw the knowledge in them. He did know everything about me, and I suspected he knew things he didn’t want to share with my father. For instance, what Charlotte and I had.
Isaac glowered and raised his hand to caution me to lower my voice, but I was hardly able to focus on my breathing, let alone control myself. I felt violent, truly irrevocably furious. He leaned in, about to speak, when Hudson cut him off with a decisive motion of his index finger.
Almost gaping, I realized that this man, who was not much older than me, controlled the great Isaac King. Then I started laughing hysterically until my stomach hurt and my eyes stung with tears. This imposter I had for a father was the person my mother had loved the most and the person who had deceived her the worst.
“Are you done?” Hudson demanded coldly.
“You are his boss, aren’t you?”
Isaac’s jaw flexed, and his eyes darkened. For a man who claimed to be his own boss, he had painfully too many people to answer to.
“I am. And I will be yours too when you accept my offer.”
“That will not happen, Mr. Hudson.”
I turned to leave, my spine tingling with hardly contained fury. Hudson’s deceptively soft words halted me with my hand on the door handle.
“Are you sure, Mr. King? You haven’t even heard the offer I have for you.”
I faced Hudson, who stood and fastened the single button of his jacket. My gaze slid defiantly from him to my father. For once, Isaac didn’t look goaded by my attitude.
Sighing and burrowing his hands in his pockets, he appeared much older than his age. His naturally smooth forehead was crisscrossed by wrinkles. His lips were bloodless and his eyes too grave and too dark.
“I am not interested in any plans my father has designed and you are now delivering.”
The only indication of Hudson’s growing impatience was an unnaturally stiff jaw and the hard set of his eyes. He nodded to himself then glanced at my father, who nodded in return. They acted as a well-oiled machine, which did not need the use of words to function. Understanding his younger superior’s command, my father slipped out of the room, his attention entirely someplace else.
“It’s just us now.” Hudson motioned me to return to my seat only by raising his eyebrows in its direction. He was making a command and expecting me to conform. The idea didn’t sit well with me. “I’d like to make something clear before we go any further with our discussion—”
“I never agreed I would go any further.”
“I’d like to not be interrupted.” The man did not glare but cast me a critical look that efficiently shut me up. For the moment, at least. “As I was saying, I’d like to be clear from the start. I am the one recruiting agents and making the decisions, not your father. He is a mere pawn in a larger scheme that I coordinate.”
“Who are you, exactly?”
Hudson gritted his teeth and stared at me with the same critical look on his face that I was starting to learn suited him best. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth thinned in an irritated line. He didn’t like to be interrupted. Deeply fascinating. Completely uninteresting.
“I am Special Agent in Charge of the Criminal Division of the Washington field office, Mr. King, and I want you to work for me.”
“Why? My academic training doesn’t qualify me as an undercover agent or any other agent, for that matter. If you are not helping my father put into practice his schemes, why would you be interested in me?”
“Your father’s input has been truly substantial, but he doesn’t have the final word.”
“You do, right,” I scoffed and plopped back in my seat, exasperated.
“Exactly.”
“So why me? What do you think I can accomplish that somebody else can’t?”
He covered his chin with his right hand and studied me. It was that perfectly confident countenance of his that made me feel uncomfortable, but I was also confident enough not to give him the satisfaction of showing it.
My eyes fell over the still scattered papers on the desk, and I couldn’t hold back a frown. What else had this man found out about me?
“I see potential in you. I also see a resourceful man and the ability to adjust to completely different environments. For instance, who would believe an engineer spent his nights taking part in illegal races?”
“And everything revolves around the damn races,” I hissed and shook my head.
“It revolves around your chameleonic nature, Mr. King. Don’t you think that’s key for an undercover agent? Just think about all the different operations you can be a part of. There’s a level of danger and adrenaline that I believe you’d both enjoy and be able to handle.”
“You read people, I get that, but do not use psychology against me.”
Hudson laughed and made an appreciative gesture with his hand. Showing him that I wasn’t easily fooled or controlled might have just made him all the more determined to have me on board with whatever plans he had. I stifled a groan.
“My offer is simple. I know for a fact that Mitch Stewart is a corrupt man and his son a murderer and a drug dealer. I think you can infiltrate his circles and get me the proof I need to prove their crimes. Work for me on this operation. Finish it successfully, get me what I need, and you will never have to worry about your father and his demands again.”
“That simple?” I asked even as my heart lurched in my chest. If Mitch Stewart was the corrupt man that Hudson claimed he was, then Charlotte had landed in a bigger mess than she imagined.
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“Oh, it will not be simple at all. You will be dealing with drug dealers and ruthless criminals. You’d have to gain their trust in order to get in their midst. But, give me the results I expect, and I will keep my end of the bargain.”
“Otherwise there’s no deal.”
“See? We understand each other, Marcus.”
“I have issues complying. I really don’t think I am the man for your position.”
“I don’t need a man who complies. I need a man who takes action. Think about my offer. I will expect an answer by the end of this week.”
I left with the nagging sensation that I didn’t have an option at all, that my fate had already been sealed.
EVENING FOUND ME AT L’Affaire although I didn’t plan on staying for too long. I missed and needed Charlotte with a fervor that bordered on pain.
It was Bryson and Brayden’s birthdays, which meant that the place was crammed with people, raucous beyond bearing. Although born at a difference of two years, they shared the same day of birth, which as inconsequential as it was to others, to them it was yet another thing binding them as brothers.
It was karaoke night, and a tipsy girl, barely out of high school, tormented everyone who was within hearing distance. She had the spectacular type of voice that made babies cry, windows shatter, and puppies whine in agony. As I waded my way to our usual table, I simply wished somebody had taped her mouth shut.
Bearing no gifts but a rather dangerous strategy that involved Brayden, I took a seat, making no fuss about my arrival. Kai, who was cradling The Fox in his lap, shook my hand vigorously, and Bryson eyed me, nodding in resignation. It hadn’t been easy to convince him of what we were going to do, but he realized it was time to take action. It was when Brayden caught sight of me that all conversation ceased.
“Am I still welcome?”
“Why wouldn’t you be?” Brayden snapped. “It’s not my problem who you choose to bang.”
I bit my tongue to stifle the words. I didn’t want to take his bait. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of lashing out because, in the end, this was not the true Brayden talking but a ghost of the man he had once been.
Darkside Love Affair Page 35
