by Ophelia Bell
“Wait a sec, you need to be straight with us now. You wanted us to watch whatever you were doing in front of that camera?” I move to lean against the wall right outside her closet. She comes out buttoning a pair of jeans. She’s also put on a bra under her T-shirt, so her hard nipples no longer poke out from beneath the thin fabric. All the softness of her breasts is bound into firm mounds, which is for the best.
She glances at Drake, who lifts one eyebrow, waiting for her answer. She narrows her eyes and points at him. “You…”
He holds up a hand. “I don’t need to make a single goddamn excuse for what I was doing. It’s my company. What happens on my equipment is my business. You agreed to the fine print simply by logging into that machine.”
She clenches her jaw and glares at each of us as if we’ve somehow done her wrong.
“What were you doing in here?” Baz asks, his tone gentle.
“Getting even,” she snaps. “Watch the goddamn video, if you’re so curious.”
She turns and stomps back into the closet, slamming the door behind her this time. There’s the Ellie I know and love.
“Fine,” Baz mutters, focusing on the laptop again.
I turn to Drake. “You saw, didn’t you? Want to tell us why you were so hot and bothered when you got to her door?” I almost regret asking, because in that split-second when I caught sight of his hard-on just before Elle opened her door, we shared a look that seemed to last an eternity. The way he narrows his eyes now, I wonder if he sees right through me.
“I want to give her a chance to explain herself. Elle?” he calls.
She emerges with a duffle bag stuffed to the gills and sneakers on her feet. “Nothing to explain. I thought you guys were spying on me, so I thought I’d have some fun. I’d really like to get the fuck away from this place, now that I know some perverted stranger has been watching all this time.”
“You don’t even know where we’re going,” I say.
“I don’t really care.” Her voice is brittle steel, the faintest quaver warning me that she’s on the verge of losing her shit. And after everything she’s been through, would I blame her? She went from believing one abusive asshole was her dad to discovering an even bigger, and dangerous asshole was her real father. I suppose I should be grateful that my parents were great people, even if they were linked closely to Arturo Flores.
“What’s the verdict?” I ask Drake, impatient to keep her steady. I’ve seen Elle break down twice in my life, once shortly after her older brother J.J. died and again when her mother had a stroke. Both events were heartbreaking to witness. Thankfully her brother turned out to be alive, and her mom has mostly recovered. I haven’t seen a hint of an emotional crack in her armor in ages, but I can sense another break coming over these daddy issues.
I don’t count the stubborn tantrums she throws when she’s feeling cooped up—that just goes with the territory, and it’s kind of hot.
“My yacht is anchored in Cat Harbor off Catalina Island. We’ll have Duffy fly us out. It’s well staffed with people I trust, and more secure than this place. It would be impossible for anyone to sneak onto without a boat or helicopter.”
Of course this rich fuck has a yacht. Why am I even surprised? I manage to school my features into indifference. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll throw some shit together and meet you on the roof. Baz?”
My brother’s nose is still buried in Elle’s laptop and he’s deep in concentration. The bundle of wires that was once Elle’s thermostat rests on the duvet beside him. What doesn’t track is the fact that the camera lens is covered in tape. So was she deliberately performing for it, or wasn’t she?
I stretch out a hand and nudge him. He shakes his head and picks up the camera, waving it at me.
“I’m going to stay put until I can trace this fucker. I’ll have Duff fly me up tomorrow morning. You guys go ahead.”
Elle gives me a sullen, almost fearful look. “Are you sure we should split up? I’d feel safer if you were both with me.”
The hitch in her voice drives home how deeply this whole arrangement has affected her. So far she’s treated it like an inconvenient vacation, but now it’s clear she’s aware of the danger she could be in.
“I’ve got your back, babe,” I say. “It’s only for a night.” I reach out and take her duffle bag, then grab her hand. “Come help me pack.”
She relinquishes her bag, but pulls away, climbs onto the bed, and wraps her arms around Baz from behind. “Be careful Bazzy,” she says, voice muffled by his shoulder.
Baz lets out an oof and cocks his head to look at me, eyebrows raised. I nod in reply to his unspoken request. There’s no way in hell I’ll let anything happen to her.
He turns his head and presses his lips to her temple. “I’ll be fine. Anyone who plants cameras is likely a chicken-shit anyway. I’m hoping to plant a trojan horse virus in the feed so the next time they download the files, we’ll be able to track them.”
“You don’t think they’ve figured out we know? I danced for the stupid camera!”
“Then you covered it up,” he says. “They probably don’t know Drake ripped it out. If we leave the other cameras where they are, whoever placed them will be none the wiser. And after that dance, it’s clear you thought you were performing for someone you knew.”
“Hold on. You watched it?” I ask, stopping just as I’m turning for the door.
A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, betraying his amusement, but he clears his throat and shrugs. “Of course I did. I needed to start somewhere.”
I’m speechless and torn between charging over and making him show me and actually doing my job. My sense of responsibility takes over when Elle climbs off the bed and nudges me onward.
“It was just a dumb stunt. Nothing you need to see,” she says.
“It was classic Ellie,” Baz calls. “Also hot as fuck.”
Her cheeks turn pink, and I shake my head. “Girl, I knew you’d be trouble one day.”
“But you can’t deny you like it,” she says, batting her eyelashes in mock innocence.
I hook an arm over her shoulders, putting her in a loose headlock and pressing my lips to the top of her head. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“You going to pack, Drake?” Elle asks as we head toward her door.
Drake shakes his head and hands my phone back to me. “I need to chat with Baz about something first. I’ll meet you up at the helipad.”
5
Elle
We leave the penthouse with the scent of fresh meat on the grill. My stomach growls as I secure my seatbelt in the back of Drake’s helicopter. Ben’s settling in next to me, with Drake in the center of the bench seat opposite us. It’s comfortable and sleek, but very cozy in here. There’s barely more than a foot of space between the two facing benches, so our knees keep brushing as we get situated.
“Can’t we take some burgers to go?” I stare wistfully toward the edge of the helipad, beyond which is Drake’s rooftop patio and outdoor kitchen, where his chef started grilling our supper just before we decided we wouldn’t be staying. Duffy closes the door, trapping some of that delicious aroma in here with us.
“I’m not letting you stay in that place any longer than absolutely necessary,” Drake says. “Whoever’s watching doesn’t need any more ammo than we’ve already given them. I don’t even know how long they’ve been watching. It could’ve been months.” He looks a little pale, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Ben leans forward, pointing a finger in Drake’s bruised face. “You promised it was secure. That you have the place swept for bugs on a regular basis. Baz and I would’ve done it when we moved in, if we’d known.”
“I wasn’t lying,” Drake says, raising his voice over the whap whap whap of the helicopter rotor picking up speed. “The last thing my former head of security did before he left was sweep for bugs.”
Ben raises a fist, points at Drake, and starts to yell something over the noise, but stops
and just shakes his head, then yanks his headset on. He meets my gaze, and I can tell he’s pissed. But at least this means it’s not his fault, right? Though he probably feels like he dropped the ball by not verifying the place was surveillance-free when we moved in. We had no reason not to trust Drake.
I’m not sure if I trust him now, though—not after learning he’d been spying on my work all this time.
There’s a mild lurch when the helicopter begins to rise, then it tilts as it veers out past the edge of the tower’s roof. I reach out and grab hold of Ben’s hand, grasping for the oh-shit handle above me with the other. I’ve never ridden in a helicopter before, but the adrenaline rush of soaring over the city is enough to distract me from the stress of the day. I laugh out loud when we head out over the water, flying toward the sunset. Across from me, Drake cracks a smile, and when I look at Ben, he’s begrudgingly smirking too.
“This is fun!” I yell, but can’t even hear my own voice. Drake taps the side of his headset, then lifts the controller attached to the cord dangling against his chest. I look down and find the switch and volume for mine, then turn it on.
“Can you hear me, Elle?” Drake asks, the question clear as a bell in my ears. His smooth, deep voice saying my name sends an involuntary shiver down my spine.
“Yeah, I hear you. This is amazing.”
“I wanted to let you know that we’ll have dinner waiting when we get there. You won’t go hungry. You’ll be every bit as comfortable as you were at the penthouse.”
“Thank you!”
He watches me a few seconds longer without speaking. Then his gaze slides to Ben for a split-second before shifting away fast, as if he doesn’t want to be caught looking. I look at Ben, who has his arms crossed and is outright scowling at Drake. I grab hold of his forearm and shake.
“Hey, it’ll be okay,” I say. When he doesn’t respond, I grab his headset controller and switch it on, then repeat myself. “Benny, it’ll be okay. Let’s just enjoy ourselves, huh?”
“This asshat doesn’t make it easy. His boneheaded decisions are why we had to leave in the first place.”
Drake’s expression pinches and he shakes his head. “It wasn’t my decision that put the cameras in. There are so many it’s unlikely you’d have found them all as it is. Besides, if someone did it to fuck with me, they’d have found another way to get to me.”
“This yacht of yours had better fucking be safe,” Ben snaps.
“It is, I promise. You’re welcome to check it yourself when we get there.”
But his comment catches me off-guard. He said someone would have found another way to get to him. Not me. Who would be after Drake? I hope Baz returns my laptop so I can keep searching for clues about Drake’s history. All we got were fresh smart phones from a secure stash the twins keep just for emergencies like this one. I guess their budget doesn’t allow for extra laptops.
About forty-five minutes later, we’re flying over Catalina Island to a harbor on the far side, where we land on what is basically a floating penthouse. The yacht is sixty meters long, Drake explains, with a dozen full-time staff, and a captain who basically just sails it around Catalina Island when its owner isn’t using it, ostensibly to keep the engines in running order. It’s anchored in the bay on the western side of the island with a perfect, unimpeded view of the sun dipping past the edge of the Pacific.
The captain himself greets us and holds a hand up to help me step down onto the deck.
“Welcome to the Brizo, Miss Flores. I’m Captain Theodorides. You can call me Theo.”
He’s a clean-cut man with deep lines beside eyes, which are such a pale shade of blue they seem bleached by the sun. His skin has likewise seen too much sun as well, looking like rough, tanned leather. But his hand is gentle, though callused, and the tattoos on both his forearms are so old they’ve gone soft at the edges. One looks like an anchor, the other a faded pinup girl.
“Theo’s been with me since I was a kid,” Drake says. “He’s like family. You can trust him to take care of us.”
Ben climbs down and reaches out to take the bags Duffy is unloading, but Drake moves to grab them instead. “Theo will give you a tour, show you all the security measures in place here. If you need to make any changes, be my guest. I’ll get Elle settled, and you can meet us in the dining room later for dinner.”
That seems to mollify Ben, and he follows Theo off, disappearing up a narrow set of steps to the bridge deck above us.
“Do I get a tour too?”
“It would be my pleasure,” Drake says in an indulgently sexy tone. When he looks at me and smiles, my insides turn molten, but then he looks away, clearing his throat as if what he just said was overly suggestive and inappropriate. My cheeks heat, remembering that he did see me mostly naked just a couple hours ago.
“I owe you an apology,” I blurt. When he frowns, I continue. “It was a dumb stunt. I honestly believed I was screwing with the twins, but I shouldn’t have done it anyway. Not in your apartment. I mean, you’re my boss. I probably put you in a bad position.”
He exhales a slow breath as he regards me, and his serious expression causes knots to tighten in my belly. “Elle, I don’t think anything you do could change my opinion of you. What happened was more my fault than anything—the cameras shouldn’t even have been there. It put you in danger, which is the last thing I want.”
“But the striptease… and you’re my boss…”
His lips twitch as if he’s trying not to smile, then he shakes his head and sighs. “What you do in your own room is none of my business. I only saw because I…” He winces. Then in a careful, measured tone, he adds, “I may have a bit of a compulsion to watch you—and not in the sense of a caretaker, either. I’ve tried limiting it to observing your work, never observing you directly. I didn’t expect to see what I did, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. But you were absolutely right; I shouldn’t have been spying on you. That was the only mistake anyone made today. I’m the one who owes you an apology.”
I’m dumbfounded by this turn of events and shake my head. “I think you made up for it.” I gesture at the helicopter beside us. “You didn’t hesitate to take me away when you believed there was a threat. But I’m not really the one in danger, am I?”
Any humor that might’ve flickered across his face is gone now. His jaw clenches and he shifts the strap of my bag on his shoulder, tightening his grip on the other suitcases he still holds in each hand. Then he turns and says, “Let’s get you settled. We can talk more later, if you want.”
“Nice deflection,” I mutter, earning myself an arch look as he turns away, but I’m too baffled by what he shared to poke further. He clearly didn’t install the cameras, but did he just confess to being compelled to watch me?
Mulling that over, I follow him down a short flight of steps off the helipad. The wind picks up as Duffy starts up the rotors in preparation to head back to San Diego, and we duck inside the opulent quietude of a luxurious living space with views on three sides. I thought I was impressed by the decor inside his penthouse, but I’m stunned at the attention to detail in here.
“This is gorgeous,” I say, sliding my hand along the cushions of an off-white leather sofa as he leads me farther in. The yacht’s interior is all-natural wood and textured stone in a range of comforting neutrals.
“When my father died, I wanted to sell the thing, but Theo talked me into getting the interior redesigned instead. He has a special connection with the Brizo and would’ve been heartbroken to lose her. Who am I to deprive an old man of his one true love? I think he was secretly angling for an upgrade to his quarters, though, which he got.”
“That was sweet of you,” I say. “When we met, I pegged you as an emotionless automaton who didn’t care about anything but work. Living with you has opened my eyes to the real Drake, or at least made me want to get to know you better.”
He’s walking ahead of me down a narrow corridor with windows overlooking the deck. He
glances back, and his half-smile returns, which is a relief. “I’m not emotionless, but it’ll take more than cohabitating for a couple weeks to figure me out.”
We reach a door, and he presses a button. A second later, an honest-to-god elevator opens up. It’s a cozy space, but I’m so baffled that this thing exists on a boat I step inside and stare around in awe. He chuckles as he joins me, hitting the button for a lower deck.
I grin at him. “Well, I like what I’ve learned so far, even if it is the tip of the iceberg.” I step out when the elevator doors open onto a corridor that’s slightly narrower than the one below us.
“You like the money more, or the man?” he asks, giving me a dubious look.
“I won’t lie, the wealth is enticing. My family has never exactly been well-off. But I’m not that shallow, I hope you know.”
“No, I do,” he says. “People with your level of intelligence and work ethic tend to be more esoteric about the things they value in life. But the thing is, I don’t know you any more than you know me, so I can only guess what drives you. I’d assume you wanted to please your father, if I didn’t know you were oblivious to who that was until recently.”
The observation makes my stomach twist. “Honestly, I’m still not sure what to think about being the daughter of a man like Arturo Flores. I’m not sure it’s properly sunk in yet. So I’d rather focus on you, if it’s all the same.”
“Now who’s deflecting?” he says with a smirk. “Trust me, my daddy issues probably put yours to shame, so nothing you could say would surprise me.”
“See, now that’s a juicy detail, despite the fact you didn’t actually tell me anything. Though I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me.”
