by Katee Robert
She knew. It was the first indication she’d gotten that Frank had fire barely banked beneath that cold and perfect exterior—and that it might be aimed right at her. “I know.”
“Thought you might.” His strokes became rougher, less controlled. “I’ve had the taste of you on my tongue ever since I licked you through those fucking panties on my office floor. Every time I’ve jacked myself since then, I picture ripping those fucking things off and sinking between your thighs just like I am now.” He bit the spot where her neck met her shoulder, and it was too much on top of everything else.
Journey buried her face in the comforter and sobbed as she came. Her orgasm swept away every single thought in her head, leaving only blessed silence, and still it wasn’t enough. She arched back against Frank, tilting her hips until he hit that delicious spot inside her with every thrust, needing him to take the dive off this particular cliff with her. “Come inside me, Frank, I want to feel you.”
He cursed against her skin, and his entire body went taut. As if she’d drawn his orgasm out of him against his will simply by commanding it. He shifted to collapse half on top of her but where he wouldn’t crush her. “How the hell can I have just come and already want you again?”
“I don’t know.” She turned in his arms and took one of his hands to press it between her thighs. “But keep touching me.” She caught her breath as he slid two fingers into her. “Yes, like that.”
He stroked her lazily, his gaze never leaving her face. “I have an hour, Duchess.”
She toppled him onto his back and straddled him, riding his fingers even as she leaned down to kiss him. For the first time in months, Journey felt something close to the woman she’d fought so hard to become. It was an illusion, but a welcome one all the same. She shifted to nibble on his square jaw. “How many of those condoms do you have stashed?”
His lips quirked. “Three.”
“Then let’s put them to good use.”
Chapter Twelve
Frank checked himself in the mirror to ensure he hadn’t missed a button. The image reflected was almost enough to have him canceling his meeting with Mateo and climbing back into bed with Journey. She lay propped against the headboard, her legs tangled with the sheet and her breasts unabashedly bare. She glanced up from her phone and met his gaze, a small smile tugging at the edges of her lips. “That was some afternoon delight.”
Afternoon delight.
Such a quaint description for something that wasn’t the least bit quaint. He and Journey had come together like a hurricane meeting a tsunami, a clash so intense, it was a surprise the hotel still stood around them. His gaze traced the faint marks on her chest from his mouth, the slightest bruise from his hands on the one thigh he could see…Fuck.
He never lost control.
He couldn’t afford to, not when he knew all too well what lay down that path. His mother’s face flashed through his mind, her lively smile dimmed and her body ravaged by the sickness she was too broken to even try fighting, her eyes harsh with the truth that life never hesitated to kick someone like them when they were down. All because she’d loved his father so fucking much, losing him had meant losing a part of herself that she could never reclaim. That was the result of letting lust slip its leash.
The result of love.
Heartbreak that made it impossible for her to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Heartbreak his father had caused when he became just another Icarus who thought he could have it all without paying the price that power cost.
Journey already teetered on the edge. If Frank wasn’t careful, he’d be the reason she tipped past the point of no return—and took him down with her.
She must have seen something on his face because her expression fell and she went back to her phone. “Call me when you figure out the next step?”
Shit. He didn’t know how to do this. He wasn’t used to walking on eggshells for fear of damaging the people around him. Frank’s team might have come to him while they were down and out, but they could all haul their own weight—together and individually—and he never had to fear that a sharp word would do more than give them pause. He cleared his throat. “Have dinner with me tonight.”
“No.” She didn’t look up from her phone. “Samara and I are meeting for drinks—not at Cocoa’s, so you don’t have to worry about running into me and having to play the part. I’m not going to get in the way of your investigation. Well, I’m not going to get in the way any more than I already have.” She typed out something, a small line appearing between her strong brows. “I realize that playing my therapist wasn’t part of the plan, so you’ll be fairly compensated.”
He was across the room before he registered his intent to move. Frank propped his hands on either side of her body and leaned down. When she still didn’t look up, he growled. “Stop doing that.”
“Stop what?” Something horrifying like a quiver shivered through her voice. “I’m trying to retreat behind the already-established lines. Thank you for grounding me, but since you made your opinion of me more than clear, I will do my best to ensure it doesn’t happen again.”
He simultaneously wanted to kiss her and throw something. “Journey, look at me.”
Slowly, oh so slowly, she raised her gaze. Her hazel eyes shone too brightly, but none of her obvious distress showed elsewhere on her face. He didn’t touch her, but he didn’t back off, either. “I don’t make a habit of mixing business with pleasure, but you’re hardly a burden. If you didn’t notice, I was in this bed with you as an active participant.” He clasped her chin, tilting her face up to meet his. “I said I don’t pity fuck, Duchess, and it’s the truth. So you can get that thought right out of that busy brain of yours. I wouldn’t have declared my intent to get you into my bed if I didn’t mean it. Did I intend for it to happen like this? No. Am I going to let you retreat behind that wall you’re building as fast as you can? Fuck no.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips.
“I don’t understand you.”
“Plenty of time to give it a shot.” He backed off and pulled on his shoes. “Do you have plans tomorrow night?”
Her frown stayed in place, but she slowly shook her head. “No.”
“Now you do. I’ll pick you up at six.” He swiped his wallet off the dresser and paused. “Want me to call you a car?”
Journey tossed her phone onto the bed beside her. “I’m more than capable of calling one myself.” She hesitated. “Thank you, though.”
There was nothing else to do but leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Happy hunting.”
He walked out of the hotel room, pausing to ensure that the door shut fully behind him, and then headed for the elevator. In the lobby, a pair of men caught his eye and motioned him over. Recognizing Ethan and José, he veered toward them. Ethan hung back, seeming to watch everything and nothing, but José stepped forward to meet him. “Hey, boss.”
“Any trouble?”
“Nothing like that.” José was a tall, thin man who usually drew second looks from every woman in the room from ages fifteen to eighty-five. He had a smile he used as a weapon to charm information out of resistant people, and he was damn good at it. Add in the fact that he had a decent head on his shoulders, and he was one of the best assets Frank had.
He waited, and José finally said, “It’s not my place to question the setup you have going.”
“You wouldn’t be on this if I didn’t value your opinion. You have a problem—stop the bullshit runaround and spit it out.”
José focused on a spot roughly three inches over Frank’s left shoulder. “Your girl needs to communicate her movements for us to be effective. We wouldn’t have known she left the building if not for the fact Ethan here was taking a smoke break around the corner and saw her go. Do we know the level of danger?”
“Not yet. Could be nothing more than threats. Could be more serious.” He wasn’t willing to take a chance either way. No matter what happened wit
h him and Journey, he sure as fuck wasn’t going to sit idly by while her old man ran rampant over her. Or worse. “I’ll talk to her.”
“Appreciate it, boss. Having to cover what exits we can in case she pulls a rabbit makes us both less effective.”
“Noted. Thanks for bringing it to my attention.” He waited a beat. “Is there anything else?”
“Nope.”
“Report to Mateo tonight after she gets back to her place, and we’ll have an update for you.” He turned and headed for the main doors. Journey didn’t seem to have a problem with his keeping men on her, but doing that in theory versus having to report her movements…She would see it as a confinement and chafe at the restrictions. He didn’t want to think her old man would actually put her life in danger, but he couldn’t afford to assume otherwise.
Frank normally lived by the rule that no risks brought no gains, but in the time since his mother died, he’d never had something he wasn’t willing to risk.
He did now.
* * *
Journey made it back to the office in time for her rescheduled meeting with Bellamy. They kept it brief and to the point—the only current threat to their company was Elliott fucking Bancroft. At least they were in agreement about that. She managed to focus as they went over the reports—a couple of cyberattacks that Bellamy’s team had no problem repelling, and one asshole reporter who wouldn’t take no comment for an answer—and then there was nothing left to stall with.
She stood and smoothed her dress down. “Eliza’s back in town?”
“Yeah, she’s been back since Friday.” He glanced at his watch. “She had a meeting with Elliott an hour ago. Honestly, I expected a text letting me know she’s on her way to the airport by now.” He said it with fondness, but Bellamy had always held a soft spot for their baby sister’s antics.
Journey couldn’t afford to. “That didn’t last long.” She was self-aware enough to know part of her issue with Eliza was simple jealousy—her little sister had never had a problem drawing a line in the sand and sticking to it, even if it meant abandoning everything they’d been taught from the cradle to want. She left Houston at sixteen and hadn’t looked back. Every time Journey had seen her since, Eliza had a glow about her that only came from true freedom.
“What do you expect, Jo?” He frowned at her. “She might have shares in Kingdom Corp, but she’s not really interested in the company. It’s not like we’re bankrolling her lifestyle, either—her modeling gig more than pays for it.”
She bit back a sharp retort and deflated. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m not exactly the best sister lately, am I?”
He shook his head. “You and Eliza have your differences, just like she and Anderson have their differences. Just…don’t take your issues out on her. That’s all I’m saying.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right.” She managed a smile. “I’ll call her and invite her to happy hour tonight with me and Samara.”
Bellamy raised his eyebrows. “Is that your idea of a good time or a punishment?”
“Hey! Don’t be a jerk. You know damn well that Samara and I know how to have a good time.” Or they had up until their respective responsibilities caught up with them—just like they always did. She sighed. “On second thought, if she hasn’t already skipped town, I’ll take her out to lunch tomorrow.”
“That’s a better idea.” His smile died. “We won’t let him win, Jo. I know it feels like Anderson and I aren’t doing anything while he zeroes in on you, but we are.”
That’s what she was afraid of. When they were children, she and Anderson had intentionally drawn their father’s wrath to keep him away from their younger siblings, to shield them from having to grow up making the choices—the sacrifices—required to keep each other safe. At eight, Bellamy already knew his role in their fucked-up little family. Protect Eliza. She was too young to handle anything Elliott could level at her, and too young to have the control necessary to escape the worst of his wrath.
One look at his face was all she needed to recognize that Bellamy wouldn’t be standing in the background this time. “You let me and Anderson handle it, okay?” Her phone buzzed and she cursed. “Damn it, it’s Mother.”
“Are you going to answer?”
“No.” She sent the call the voice mail. Journey didn’t have anything to tell her that wouldn’t send her mother into a murderous rage. After they had taken care of their father, she would let their mother in on just what the bastard had planned, and how they’d managed to circumvent him.
To do anything else was to invite ruin.
She walked toward the elevator and cursed when her phone buzzed again. I swear to God, Mother…Journey froze at the unknown number. Better to let it go to voice mail, but…“Hello?”
Her father’s voice slithered through the line. “Quite a long lunch you took today.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “I had a meeting.”
“Lies don’t become you, sweetheart. I had hoped your mother would raise you better than to shirk work for a man, but then you’ve always had a habit of letting me down, haven’t you?”
She flinched. If she concentrated, she could hear the sound of the belt slapping his palm as he crossed the room toward where she cowered, his expression remorseful. You’ve let me down again, sweetheart.
Then the rest of his words penetrated. He knew where she’d been—who she’d been with—and intentionally used the familiar threat…“You leave Frank the hell alone, Elliott. He has nothing to do with this.”
“He made his choice when he stepped into a situation that was none of his business.” He laughed softly. “Almost quitting time. I wonder if that low-rent boyfriend of yours managed to make it back to the office without a problem. He doesn’t exactly work in the safest part of town.”
Even after all these years, she could read between the lines. He wouldn’t bring up Frank without a very specific reason. Frank’s smart and capable and he would never let my father get the drop on him. Except he’s focusing on protecting me, not on watching his own back.
No, you’re being paranoid. He’s just grandstanding to throw you off. Frank isn’t in any danger.
Is he?
She cleared her throat and put as much cool confidence into her tone as she could. “Is there a point to this conversation, Elliott? Or did you just call to make vague threats?”
“I would never threaten, sweetheart. Words only work when there’s action to back them up.”
How many times had she heard him say that exact thing?
Too many. As much as Elliott liked to threaten and manipulate, he loved using his fists even more. Or a belt. Or whatever lay close at hand, the more creative the better.
Journey’s stomach clenched, and she forced herself to punch the button to call the elevator, to step inside the open doors, to take it down to the lobby. Every instinct screamed at her to run to her office, to throw the lock, to curl up on her couch with the lights off until the shaking passed and she felt moderately in control again.
She didn’t have the luxury of breaking down now. Not if her father was threatening what she thought he was threatening. “If you do anything to him, I will—”
“You’ll do what you’ve always done, sweetheart,” he cut in. “You’ll curl up and take it, because you are weak and that’s what the weak do.”
“I am not fucking weak.” The words felt like a lie on her tongue, but her fear for Frank kept her moving. Journey hurried out of the elevator and into the lobby, half expecting that this was all some elaborate game and that she was the intended victim. But no, there was no one around except the two men Frank had assigned to watch over her.
Does Frank have a security detail for himself?
Damn it, you know he didn’t assign one.
“I’d appreciate you not taking that tone with your father.” He sounded as pleasant as if sitting down for afternoon tea. “A man like Frank is beneath you, sweetheart. He can dress himself up in all the three-piece suits h
e wants, but it doesn’t change who he is. Trash. He might have convinced the rest of Houston into thinking he’s something to be feared, but trash always gets taken out eventually. He will, too.”
“You’re bluffing.” He had to be bluffing.
“You know better.” He hummed a little under his breath.
Her throat spasmed. “If you did something to him—”
“I have no idea what you’re going on about, sweetheart. I was merely calling to point out that if you’re going to be predictable and insist on meeting your…boyfriend…at a hotel in the middle of the day, someone will take notice. And that someone might not be as kind and loving as I am. They may very well snatch one or both of you off the street. If that were to happen…I can’t stand the thought of what would happen then.”
“Sure sounds like you’ve given it at least some thought,” she gritted out. Frank’s men jumped to their feet as she strode toward them, and she jerked her chin toward the street. “You won’t get away with this, Elliott. I won’t let you.” Frank has to be okay. He has to be. I don’t know what I’ll do if Frank’s not okay.
“I would never hurt someone you care about, sweetheart. That’s something only a monster would do.” He laughed a little. “Enjoy the rest of your night.” Elliott hung up.
One of the men stepped forward. José, she thought his name was. “Problem?”
“Take me to Frank. There’s trouble.” Frank might be okay right now, but it didn’t mean he’d stay that way. Elliott didn’t bluff. Something about Frank had gotten under his skin, and he would scratch at that itch until he demolished it.
Until he demolished Frank.
Frank wouldn’t bend like Journey. It wasn’t in his nature, and Elliott had to know that. No, her father would go straight for breaking him. She could pretend Frank would see him coming a mile away, but Journey had thrown Frank off his game today. He would be distracted, and Elliott was smart enough to use that against him. To hurt him.
