by James Tate
“Martini,” I ordered, impulsively. Hopefully a little vodka would take the edge off my nerves so I didn’t totally fuck it all up by blurting our plans out to the senator himself.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jasper replied with a grin and placed our orders with the bartender.
After we received our drinks, Jasper spent some time wandering around the room with me and pointing out people who I’d only ever seen in tabloids or on the internet before. Heirs to oil fortunes, actresses, artists, bored but rich housewives and their Wall Street finance husbands... everyone who was anyone in New York was in attendance it seemed.
“Who’s that?” I asked, pointing to the handsome, mid-thirty-ish man who Catherine was batting her heavily mascaraed lashes at.
“That, my dear,” Jasper said, “is Senator Green.”
Our mark.
“Huh, okay. I get it.”
I sensed his presence a second before he spoke. “What’s that supposed to mean, Butterfly?”
Turning slightly, I peered up at Beck who was both way too close and not close enough. “Just that I can see how he’s been luring all these women into his office. He’s an attractive man. Here I was picturing someone like...” I looked around the room, then pointed to a white-haired man in his seventies “...like that.”
“Gross,” Evan whispered with a shudder, and I belatedly realized they’d all rejoined Jasper and me. “You picture old dudes fucking? You’re messed up, Spare.”
“What? No, that’s not—” My protests were cut short by a middle aged man who looked vaguely familiar approaching us. In itself, it wouldn’t have been anything alarming, but the fact that all the boys around me seemed to suddenly vibrate tension told me this was no casual party guest.
“Delta heirs,” the man greeted my guys, his face carefully neutral. “You’ve all grown up so much since you last attended one of these shindigs. And this must be the missing Deboise heir.” His gaze landed on me and I shivered. His eyes were ... dead. Cold, and cruel, like he took pleasure in hurting puppies in his spare time.
“Riley,” I introduced myself, sticking my hand out for him to shake, “And you are?”
His eyes narrowed just a fraction at my clear insult, but it was quickly covered by a slick smile. “Graeme Huntley. Your uncle.”
I sort of had a feeling that was who he was, but there was a certain level of victory in making him introduce himself to me. “My uncle?” I repeated with a frown, “You’re ... Catherine’s brother?”
Suddenly the familiar features made a whole lot more sense. He had the same dark hair, blue eyes and pale skin as Catherine ... and me.
His grin spread wider, seeing he’d surprised me. “Yes, dear. I was so shocked to learn my darling sister had another child whom she’d discarded. What a horrible thing for you to learn so soon after your parents’ tragic passing.” His voice dripped with insincerity, and I ground my teeth together to stop from cursing him out. Blah blah appearances.
Of all people, it was Catherine herself that came to my rescue.
“Graeme, dear, I told you I’d introduce you to Riley myself,” she cooed, sliding her slim arm around her brother’s waist to give him a hug.
Graeme gave me another calculating look before turning that fake smile on his sister—my birth mother. “Ah, but I spotted her over here and I just couldn’t help myself.” He leaned down and kissed Catherine on the cheek in a way that gave me the creeps. It was too intimate for a brotherly kiss, and I wrinkled my nose as I looked away.
“I’m sure you couldn’t,” Catherine muttered with a touch of sarcasm. “Come, Senator Green was just telling me all about a fascinating new bill that is about to be presented to Congress.”
She made to lead Graeme away, but he paused and turned back to the five of us.
“Lovely to meet you, niece,” he told me with that crocodile smile. “I look forward to seeing the five of you at the vote. It’s about time some new voices were heard.”
With that confusing gem, he let Catherine lead him away, and she shot us a pointed look over her shoulder. This was our opportunity. She—and the other Delta leaders—would be keeping both Senator Green and Graeme Huntley busy, so we could steal that sex tape.
“Show time,” Evan whispered, and I bit my tongue on the questions Graeme had just raised. We had a task to perform, and I for one had no interest in seeing the consequences if we failed.
18
It pretty quickly became clear why I’d been brought along on this mission, despite my severe lack of experience or training compared to the guys. As we made our way through the corridors of City Hall, the guys stopped to “show me a painting” every time we ran into another guest, or security. Apparently it was public knowledge that Catherine Deboise’s long lost daughter had never attended a function like this before so I was their smoke screen for being outside of the main party area.
Playing tourist, so to speak.
Evan and Jasper peeled off from us at different points, lurking as the surveillance detail while Beck, Dylan and I continued on to the senator’s office.
“Uh, isn’t his office going to be locked?” I pointed out as the three of us hurried down a dark corridor. This area was strictly off limits to the party—we’d even had to step over a rope with a “no access” sign—so all the lights were turned off.
Beck shot me a half smile, and Dylan just pressed a finger to his lips, telling me to be quiet as he crouched in front of Senator Green’s office door and pulled a folded leather pouch from his jacket pocket.
“Get out,” I whispered. “You know how to pick locks? What is this, fucking Ocean’s Eleven?”
Both boys just smirked at me, and I rolled my eyes as Dylan turned the door handle and held the door open for Beck and me to enter. Damn boys and their egos. They were probably already mentally deciding who was Clooney and who was Pitt.
“Okay, uh, anyone else seeing a problem here?” I hissed, peering around the dark room. “Your dads said the recordings were in a hidden room behind the bookshelf, right?”
“Ah,” Beck grunted, seeing what I was talking about. “Yes. So very specific, as usual.”
The office was huge, and three of the four walls were floor to ceiling bookcases. We could rule out the ones either side of the door, because it was just hallway behind those. But how in the hell would we find this fucking hidden room behind what must be thousands of books?
“Better move quick,” Dylan suggested so helpfully. “These people have a flair for the dramatic, so it’ll be a pull book entry. Start pulling books.” He headed over to the shelves on the left and started tilting books out of the shelf and back again.
“Seriously?” I hissed to Beck, and he just shrugged.
“Got a better idea?” he asked. It was probably rhetorical, but I actually did have a better idea. Typical fucking males, not using their brains to work out the problem.
Looking around the dark room, I tried to work out where Senator Green would most likely do his fucking. Couch or desk? Desk was pretty clichéd and a quick glance over his meticulously neat papers and pens, I discarded that idea. He didn’t seem like the type who would mess up his desk by mauling a chick all over it, so it had to be the couch.
I crossed the room to the couch in question and sat down on it—trying really hard not to think about whether he cleaned it often or not.
“Butterfly,” Beck hissed. “What are you doing? We need all hands on deck here.”
I rolled my eyes—not that he could see—and ignored him as I looked around the office. From where I sat, what would be the best camera angle? Well, for starters, it certainly wouldn’t be on the side the couch was nearest.
“It’s that side,” I whispered to Dylan, who was working his way through the books beside the couch. He raised his brows at me, but quickly caught on and moved to Beck’s side of the room.
I got up and went to join them, but didn’t bother pulling books like they were. Instead, I was hunting for any sign of a camera.
/> “I can’t see shit,” I muttered as I ran my fingers over the spines of books, searching for something out of place. “Give me your phone.” I held my hand out to Beck, and he handed over his iPhone. I ignored the fact that it was still warm from his pocket, and used the screen light to help see the bookshelves.
We searched for what felt like forever until Beck’s phone light reflected off something above my head. “Fuck yes,” I hissed, tucking Beck’s phone into the front of my dress then reaching up and running my fingertip over a camera lens. “Found the camera,” I told the guys. “Entry should be somewhere near here, right?”
I was all the way over, almost in the corner of the room and both Dylan and Beck rushed over from where they’d been searching. Between the three of us, it didn’t take long to locate the entry-book. Great Expectations.
I snorted a laugh at the choice of title, but followed the guys through the tiny door and into the room behind. It was little more than a large closet that held shelves on shelves of whirring computer equipment.
“Sound proofed,” Beck observed, “and a whole lot more than one camera, too.” He traced the bunch of cords from a hole in the wall, back to a locked cupboard. Two seconds later, with the help of Dylan’s lock picks, the cupboard was open and nine monitor screens showed us all angles of the office.
Dylan let out a low whistle. “Shit, he was really set up. I was expecting a nanny cam or some shit but this is...” he shrugged and shook his head.
“Professional?” I suggested. “Like maybe he’s making these tapes for more than just personal use?”
“Exactly that,” Beck murmured his agreement as he peered at the camera and monitor set up. “Let’s find the Petrova recording and get out of here.”
This part—the part where they hacked into Senator Green’s dirty little sex server—I was of no help in. So I stayed out of the way and leaned my back on the open doorway, waiting patiently for them to do their thing.
A few moments later, Beck’s phone vibrated against my boob. Then vibrated again. And again. “Beck, your phone is going nuts,” I whispered, reaching into my dress to fish it out, but only managing to push it further down. There wasn’t a whole lot of space to move in the tightly boned bodice and I’d somehow managed to push his phone down to the space under my boobs instead of pulling it out.
“Ugh, I can’t get it out, either,” I admitted when he frowned at me in confusion. “You need to unzip me, it’s stuck here.” I tapped his phone through my dress where it sat flat against my diaphragm.
“It’ll be one of the boys,” Dylan murmured, shooting Beck a sharp look. “Someone must be coming.”
“Or Jasper is bored,” Beck said back, looking indecisive. “We still don’t have the recording.”
“Keep going,” Dylan urged him, “I’ll retrieve your phone and check.”
I almost laughed at Beck’s look of horror, but we weren’t really in a position to be arguing, so I turned my back to Dylan and swept my hair out of the way. “Quick,” I hissed, “I’d really love not to end up in jail for breaking and entering if someone is coming.”
Dylan didn’t reply, just quickly slid my zipper down, and I needed to act fast to catch my dress against my breasts and prevent it from falling completely to the floor. His warm hand snaked around my waist, plucking Beck’s phone from the waistline seam where it had gotten stuck, then deftly zipped me back up.
“Damn, Dylan,” I chuckled. “Expert at undressing girls, huh?”
A warning sort of growl came from Beck, and Dylan just winked at me when I turned back around. His attention was on Beck’s phone as he keyed in the passcode and opened the messages—then cursed.
“Yep, company. The senator is on his way with tonight’s lucky victim.”
Dylan reached past me and tugged the hidden door closed, shutting us inside the tight space, and I squeaked a sound of confusion.
“There’s no time to get out without being seen,” he explained to me, then indicated to Beck who was rapidly tapping at the little keyboard attached to the server. “Besides, we still don’t have the recording we came for.”
“So, we just ... wait it out?” I whispered back, a bit incredulous. “What if he finds us here?”
As I said this, one of the monitors showed the main door of the office open, and Senator Green enter with a pretty blonde on his arm. She held a glass of champagne in her hand, and was dressed in a cocktail length sequin dress.
“Wow.” Her voice came through the speakers loud and clear to us, and I flinched in panic. “You have so many books.”
“Don’t stress,” Beck murmured to me. “Sound proofed room, remember?”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Oh yeah. Sorry, I forgot we’re living in a James Bond movie right now.”
The inane conversation between Senator Green and his girl—who I was pretty sure I’d seen in a major motion picture recently—continued playing from the monitor’s speakers, and I rolled my eyes at how airheaded this chick sounded. “Can we turn the sound off? Or down?”
Beck fiddled around with some switches then shrugged. “This one should be sound, but as you can see”—he demonstrated, turning the dial and the volume didn’t change—“it doesn’t seem to be working.”
I groaned and slid to the floor with my back against the little door. “Let’s hope she’s not a screamer, then.”
Beck shot me a wolfish grin, and I glared at him. The last thing I wanted to do, while getting front row seats to live action porn, was think about him making me scream.
Ignore, ignore, ignore.
“So what was that comment Graeme Huntley made about some vote?” I asked them, desperately seeking a change of subject as the sounds of conversation turned into breathy moans and the monitors displayed it all from every damn angle. Some were even zoomed.
Beck was the one to respond, as he plugged a thumb drive into the server and started a file transfer to it. “So, Dylan told you how Delta began as a combination of our five families? Well, technically Delta was meant to be six families. Balance and symmetry were big in those days, as well as the fact that the Langham ancestor had a wife who fancied herself a bit of a numerologist. She’d convinced him that six was the lucky number in business and Delta would only ever be completely powerful if there were six ruling parties.” He paused, giving me a shrug. “People were superstitious back then.”
“So what happened?” I asked, having to speak over the sounds of moaning as our friendly senator sucked on the actress’s nipple. I wasn’t even guessing, he’d positioned her in exactly the right place for the cameras to get all the action. “How come it was still only five?”
“The sixth family that was going to be involved was killed in a house fire,” Dylan said, “and since they were all sentimental, the company decided to hold a sixth chair for them, to keep numbers even, but no new family would be added unless everyone votes and agreed on it.”
“So every twenty years, a vote is held,” Beck continued, leaving the file transfer running and joining Dylan and me on the floor. “And it’s open for any other company to ‘proposition’ Delta for a seat on their board. A controlling vote. It requires a substantial buy in, of course, so that leaves very few in a position to even try. But Huntley has a lot of money.”
“Until now they’ve never had any pull, but you only need two votes from Delta board members to have a shot,” Dylan added.
“Fuck,” I breathed out. “Catherine’s one of those, right? That’s her end game?”
Beck and Dylan exchanged a glance. “We don’t know. She’s done a very good job at distancing herself from Huntley; today was the friendliest I’ve ever seen her be with her brother. Usually it’s sneers and harsh words.”
That was probably the game, though. It had to be.
“Richard still has the Deboise vote, right?” I wanted to confirm. “Like, technically she’s his proxy, but the vote is still really his.”
They both nodded, but not with any sort of confidence.
>
“When is this vote?” I asked.
“In a bit over a month.” Beck grimaced. “My father is going to allow me to step in as his proxy vote, since I’m so close to taking over my chair, and that’s why we suspect the vote has something to do with Katelyn showing up at school.” His face was harsh and pissed off. “And why Catherine was so desperate to hold onto her voting rights.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” I demanded, right as the senator’s lover let out a loud moan followed by “yes, oh my god, put your dick in me!”
We all paused our conversation, instinctively looking up at the monitors just in time to get a close up of the actress’s vagina, followed by the senators erect cock slapping her pubic bone.
“Wow,” I muttered, tearing my eyes away from the screen before I could watch any further. “I think I need to bleach my eyes when we get out of here.” The woman started this sort of yipping moan as Senator Green obliged her wishes. “And my ears.”
Dylan snickered, still watching the screens. “It’s not that bad, Riles. You’ve never watched porn before?”
My cheeks flamed, and I glared at him as I wrapped my arms around my knees and hugged them tight. I was defiantly ignoring the throbbing warmth between my legs, cursing my sex starved body for reacting.
“No,” I lied. “And certainly not when the participants are in the next room and totally unaware anyone is watching.”
Dylan nodded and looked away from the screens. “Good point. What were you saying?”
I paused for a moment, my brain devoid of anything but porn, made worse by the undeniable heat in Beck’s stare. “Uh... oh. Something about Katelyn Huntley. What made you think her turning up has to do with the vote?” I aimed the question at Beck, grasping at that thread of information to keep my mind off the pants and groans coming from the monitors.
“She’s been making her interest known,” Beck said carefully, his steely gaze locked on me, unblinking. “We speculate she might be tasked with, uh, swaying my vote in favor of Huntley.”
