by Kendall Ryan
“I’m still mostly packed,” she said.
“Me too. The crew should be ready in twenty minutes.” I messaged my driver, then called the front desk to pick up our bags.
“Are you hungry?” I asked her. “Do you need anything to eat before we go?”
Emma shook her head. “No. Look, I know you’re in the middle of something major, but I just want to know what’s happening. I’m scared.”
She was pacing in front of the windows, and I felt like shit for making her panic.
“Right.” I speared a hand through my hair. “Of course, you would be. I’m sorry. I’m just in crisis mode. Please sit down.”
Quickly, I told her about the news story and then about the more colorful media commentary on the event.
“Something like this must have happened before, though, right? I mean, you can’t micromanage everyone you hire.” Emma frowned and shook her head.
“But we can do thorough background checks,” I said. “We never let in girls with drug problems. Not after . . .”
I stopped myself, but the look in Emma’s eyes let me know she understood.
“Anyway, we drug test everyone. She must have gotten through the cracks, or else this was a first and she went along to try to fit in.”
“It could have been worse,” Emma reminded me. “Someone could’ve died or there could’ve been a car accident. This is bad, I know. But . . .”
I nodded and stroked her hair, feeling slightly better at her words. “I know. It could have been worse.”
My phone buzzed, letting me know our driver was outside just as the bellhop arrived to take our bags. I motioned to them and tipped the guy handsomely before ushering Emma from the room and heading for the elevators again. Already, my head was swimming with a million media tactics, ways to get out in front of this thing and show the world that we were a decent, legitimate business.
“It might just be a matter of letting the news cycle find something else juicer and hoping people forget,” Emma offered as the sleek elevator dropped toward the first level.
“Maybe,” I said, placing my hand against her spine, but I didn’t think so.
A company like ours had always been a risk, but my brothers and I had relied on both the discretion of our clients, and our girls and our books being squeaky clean to prove ourselves. But now that we were out in the public, especially tied to drugs? Wealthy men wouldn’t want their names linked with our company.
Emma’s voice broke through my thoughts. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”
We made our way to the car, readying ourselves for another stress-filled flight. Luckily, Emma seemed to understand. After we boarded the plane and took off, she didn’t bother to comment or ask more questions. She merely took out her phone and distracted herself, probably reading stories about the incident to better understand the severity of the situation.
In truth, I should have been doing the same thing. I should have been scouring the Internet, looking for all mentions of the company to see exactly what I was dealing with, but I was in too much shock to bother. The ripple effect of a story like this might dog us for the rest of our days. A black mark this big? We might have to fold if we couldn’t scrub it out.
I thought of Alyssa and Sonja, and the rest of the girls we employed. This was sending all their lives into chaos, not just mine.
But then, as panic started to overtake me, Emma’s voice would fill my head again. “You’ll figure it out.”
Offering me a sad smile, she rose from her seat and stood behind me, pressing her fingers to my temples and stroking lightly.
Her faith in me was staggering. Offering her comfort, even though we didn’t know quite where we stood yet as a couple? That meant the world to me.
I would figure this out. I wouldn’t just cave because things had taken a wrong turn. That’s not how this company had been built. There were too many people counting on me.
• • •
When we finally landed, I instructed my driver to take Emma to her brownstone.
She scooted to the edge of the limo seat, then glanced at me, her mouth quirked into a sad half smile. “I really think you’re going to get ahead of this. You’re brilliant. You just need some time to think. Take as much time as you need, but call me and tell me what’s going on, okay?”
I nodded as she stepped from the car and clicked the door shut behind her, leaving me to forge into the heart of downtown and face this thing head-on.
As I expected, a small crowd of busybodies already stood outside the building alongside reporters clamoring desperately for a comment. I ignored them all as I pushed through the rotating glass doors and headed for my floor, knowing Quinn and a task force of publicists would likely be waiting for me upstairs.
Deep in thought, I made my way to my office, ignoring the searching glances of Sonja and Alyssa, and found exactly what I’d been expecting. Quinn was sitting at my desk, talking quickly and quietly with Fiona, the publicist we kept on retainer for these sorts of eventualities.
What I hadn’t expected, however, was the man sitting across from Quinn, listening intently to whatever they were saying.
Cooper.
As I closed the door behind me, all three of them turned to look at me. In that instant, I froze and completely shut down for a moment. If someone had asked me my name or why I was there, I probably wouldn’t have been able to tell them.
All I knew was that this was the first time in a week I’d seen my little brother—the man who’d told Emma about Ashley. The man who’d tried to ruin everything for me.
And he had the nerve to look me in the eye like nothing had happened?
I saw red. With rage fueling my blood, I launched myself across the room and knocked him from his seat. He scrambled back, scuttling on hands and feet until he pushed himself to stand, and I dove, trying to catch him by the chin and knock him back on his ass. Unfortunately for me, though, we’d been raised on the same tough streets. He ducked, anticipating my move, and aimed a punch of his own at my solar plexus.
I grunted as air whooshed out of me, but in truth, I barely felt it. My adrenaline was thrumming and I swung again, this time connecting with his nose, sending him reeling back until he slammed into the wall. I approached again but was stopped by what felt like an iron weight on my shoulder.
Quinn had stepped between us, and he glowered from me to Cooper and back again. “What the actual fuck—”
“That fucker told Emma about Ashley,” I spat out. “That was my story to tell, and he knows it.”
Cooper didn’t bother to respond. He merely held his injured nose and glared at me while Quinn rolled his eyes.
“Is this the time? Really?” Quinn shook my shoulder, hard. “Take your seats and put your differences aside. We need to work together on this, and I don’t need to deal with your petty bullshit on top of real pressing issues.”
The publicist, who’d been standing in the corner and watching everything silently, took her seat again. Quinn made his way back to my desk while I reluctantly took a seat across from him.
His nose still cupped in his hands, Cooper dropped into the seat next to me. “You punch like a girl,” he muttered under his breath.
My hands were still shaking as I glared at him, dying to show him exactly how hard I could punch, when Quinn smacked the desk with the heel of his hand.
“Now is not the time for fighting,” he said through gritted teeth. “We’re going to handle our corporate issues and then, when this clears up, we can sort out whatever you two are fighting about. Until then, shelve it.”
He was right. I knew it, and was already starting to feel like an ass for going after Cooper in the office when things were clearly dire.
I glanced at Cooper, who looked back at me, and a silent, grudging understanding passed between us.
“So, how are we going to fix this?” I looked at the flustered-looking publicist and then Quinn.
“From the ground up. We’ve already lost fifte
en clients—”
“Fifteen? Fuck.” Cooper groaned.
Quinn glared at him and then continued. “Like I was saying, we’ve lost fifteen clients, but I think if we divide up the rest and call each of them individually, we have a chance at keeping the majority. We won’t issue a statement until later tomorrow, and in the meantime, Fiona is going to distribute a memo to our employees about the incident.”
Fiona nodded at this.
“You have the lists for us?” I asked.
“Alyssa is drawing them up right now. And—” Quinn was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door.
Sonja appeared, a pot of coffee and mugs in her hands. The ceramic cups clanked as she set them on the desk between us, and I could feel her lingering gaze searching my face as she glanced from me to each of my brothers in turn.
“It’s going to be a long night. I’ll order food,” she said. “Anything specific?”
“Dinner would be great. We’re going to be here for a while. You and Alyssa will be fielding employee phone calls and cancellations,” Quinn said.
“Can do, chief. Coming right up.” Sonja nodded and stopped behind my chair to press her fingers into my shoulders in an awkward attempt at a massage.
“I’m fine, Sonja. Really,” I said.
She nodded, then let herself out of the room just as Alyssa pinged lists to all of our phones complete with client histories and phone numbers.
“Okay, gentlemen, let’s get to work,” Quinn said.
And so we did.
After everyone had cleared out of my office, I dialed one client at a time, referencing their specific needs and services with every call. Promising them complete discretion. It was grueling, exhausting work, and every time I looked at the clock, it felt as though another two hours had gone by. No politician would answer my call and their secretaries refused to take messages, but others did. There was light at the end of the tunnel.
Fiona’s memo was thoughtfully worded, and though a few girls had called in hysterics, the vast majority remained the cool, calm businesswomen I knew they would be. After what felt like seventy hours’ work and a half-dozen sandwiches, day turned into night, and I gathered the courage to surf the net for stories about the case.
The senator in question had been released into the care of a rehab facility, but our employee was still in custody. Tomorrow, we’d have to decide whether to find her a lawyer or cut ties with her to save the company. It was a conversation I wasn’t looking forward to, but there would be a lot of those as the next few days went on.
When it was finally too late to call clients, I took to the small couch on the far side of my office and hunched over my phone, trying to come up with a speech for what was sure to be tomorrow’s media circus.
Before long, my head was spinning. I leaned back on the cushions, desperate for relief from what felt like the world’s most pressure-filled couple of days. But then, when everything seemed too overwhelming, I found myself not in my office at all.
Instead, my eyes drifted closed and I was back in the hotel suite in Florida . . .
• • •
A soft knock sounded at the door. Curious, I went to answer it only to find Emma standing at the door wearing nothing but her tiny blue-and-white polka-dot bikini.
“I think I got sunburned. Will you look?”
She walked past me into the room, stopping the side of the bed, and turned to show me her back and the lush curve of her ass. Just above her bikini bottom was a thin strip of redness, and I swallowed hard.
“Yeah, you’re a little burned. But I have aloe in the fridge.”
I grabbed the lotion from the mini fridge and returned to her, slathering the cold liquid on my hands. Slowly, I caressed her back, moving my hands in circles as I rubbed the healing lotion onto her skin.
She let out a little moan of relief, and my cock throbbed as I remembered exactly how good and loud and needy that moan of hers could be.
Gently, I slid my hand just below the hem of her bottoms, my fingertips itching to move lower still, to cup her firm ass, to make her whole body slick with aloe and watch her slide against me.
“I know what you want,” she said, and though her tone was innocent enough, there was no mistaking her meaning.
I said nothing. I didn’t have to.
Instead, I watched as she hooked her arm behind her back and tugged at her bikini top, allowing it to unravel at her touch. When the fabric was nothing but a ball in her hands, she turned to me, revealing the stiff peaks of her nipples, the swell of her creamy pale breasts.
“What are you doing?” My voice was little more than a growl.
“You want to fuck me.” She handed me the bikini top. “So, fuck me, big boy. I want to feel you inside me.”
Her dark blue eyes dared me to make my move, and that was all the consent I needed. Taking her bikini in hand, I tied her hands over her head and pushed her back onto the bed.
“No touching this time, pet,” I said, my voice husky as I sank to my knees in front of her and took her bikini bottoms in my teeth. I needed to see her, all of her. Needed to taste her sweetness on my tongue. But most of all, I needed to feel her.
My cock throbbed as I finally pulled her bottoms to the floor. She dropped her legs open for me, ready and wide, already slick and waiting for me.
With a growl, I moved to lick her long and deep, but suddenly something seemed wrong.
My aching, needy dick was twitching with hunger, but it also felt . . . pleasured, almost sated. But not entirely. I still needed her, needed to feel her warm and wet around me, but it was as if someone had hit the fast-forward button and we were already fucking.
I craned my neck to see Emma’s face, but she had vanished from the bed.
Confused, I sat up and opened my bleary eyes.
• • •
My desk. My office.
I blinked again.
I was awake now, but the strange sensation persisted. I rubbed my eyes and glanced down to find a woman kneeling in front of me, her blond hair covering her face. She stroked my stiff cock with her hand, purring my name in time with the rhythm. Her other hand moved to tuck her hair behind her ear, revealing the last face I expected to see hovering just inches from my erection.
Sonja.
I started to pull away, shock rendering me speechless, but then the door opened and I looked up to find Emma there, a smile of greeting frozen on her face. It was like slow motion as her gaze instantly zeroed in on Sonja’s hand on my crotch before the door snapped shut again.
“Emma, wait—” I called out, but I had no idea what to say.
I swatted Sonja’s hand away and she recoiled, a ridiculous pout forming on her face. Ignoring her, I sprang from the couch and dashed out of the office, zipping my pants as I ran after Emma.
How could that have happened? Jesus, I’d been dead asleep. That was an assault. Surely, Emma had to understand. Though, in truth, after everything we’d been through, would she even believe me?
It was exactly what it looked like—I just hadn’t been a willing participant. How could she know that?
Panting, I finally caught up to her in the lobby, ready to storm past the swarm of reporters into the early morning light.
“Wait! Please, wait!” I shouted and she stumbled to a stop, turning to face me. “Can you just listen?”
“Why the hell would I do that?” Her voice echoed in the empty atrium. “I know what I saw.”
“No, you don’t. I’m not interested in her. I was dreaming about you, and then I woke up to find her . . . well, you saw.”
Emma’s eyes narrowed and she stared at me, doubt clouding her beautiful face. “You must have led her on or given her some clue that you—”
“No, I swear to you, I was dead asleep. We’d been up all night.” I raked a hand through my hair, desperate now. “Emma, come with me and I’ll fire her right now. Even if you don’t come, that’s what’s going to happen. Just give me a chance to show you.”
/> Her lip trembled and she dashed a hand beneath her tear-filled eyes. “You didn’t call me all night. I was worried sick.”
“I’m sorry, really. Just, please, for the love of God, Emma, come with me.”
She considered for a long moment, then gave me a begrudging nod. Together, we went back onto the elevator and returned upstairs to find Sonja with her arms crossed and her lower lip trembling, standing near Alyssa’s desk outside my office.
“What the hell were you thinking?” I blurted, unable to control myself.
Sonja blinked from me to Emma and back again, running her hands self-consciously over her forearms.
Just as she opened her mouth to speak, I held up a hand to stop her. “Get your things. You’re fired. Your behavior was completely inappropriate.”
Her chin wobbled as her eyes turned watery. “Gavin, please, I—”
“I don’t want your excuses. I want you gone.”
“I need this job,” she pleaded, tears sliding down her cheeks. She looked desperately at Emma as if hoping she would do something, but Emma turned away, struggling to hide her disgust.
“You should have thought about that before,” I said, but my voice must have been louder than I realized.
Quinn appeared at his door, frowning. “What the hell is happening?”
“We’re letting Sonja go,” I said, my tone brusque.
Quinn glanced at Emma and then Sonja before motioning for me. “Gavin, a word. Please.”
Gritting my teeth, I followed him into his office and he slammed the door shut behind us.
“What the actual fuck? You’re letting Sonja go? She’s one of our most valuable—”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
Quinn turned to face the wall, his hand a fist at his side, then looked at me again. “I don’t know what the fuck is happening around here anymore. Ever since Emma showed up, everything has gone to shit. I don’t know how she’s involved, but I just know she is. Sonja is too valuable—”
Glaring at him, I cut him off. “She could be the queen of England, but I don’t care. We’re letting her go. She was molesting me in my sleep.”
And just like that?
Quinn finally had nothing to say.
