by Katee Robert
As usual.
“In that case, I’ll ask you again—take the terms, or stop wasting both our time.”
She straightened her fork and moved her knife to the exact distance from her plate on the other side. “How will this work? You can’t just stroll into Kingdom Corp when it suits you. Even if Anderson is distracted with our father, he hasn’t forgotten whose side you’re really on.” Beckett’s. Not theirs. Never theirs.
For a long moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer, but Frank growled and reached across the table to cover her hands with his own. Her heart leapt into her throat, its frantic beating stealing her ability to speak. Her flinch was as strong as it was involuntary, and Frank snatched his hand back before she’d completed the movement. “Duchess—”
“What’s your plan?” she cut in. Journey took a shuddering breath and raised her gaze to meet his. There was no covering up her fearful reaction, but she’d be damned before she let him question it.
Frank studied her with that implacable look of his. “I can get a lot of information on your old man without too much trouble, but at the end of the day, your family holds the key. By your own admission, the normal methods won’t work. I need to be closer to the problem.”
He’ll find out the truth.
She smothered the thought as soon as it skimmed through her mind. “Playing coy isn’t like you. There’s a solution you’ve already thought of. Stop hedging and spit it out.”
He sat back. “The only way they’ll let me through the door is if they think we’re dating.”
Dating Frank Evans? He was out of his goddamn mind. If Journey had a type—and she did—it was dashing metrosexual guys who didn’t have a chance in hell of overwhelming her. Safe guys, even if it didn’t look that way to the press or her brothers.
There was nothing safe about Frank.
He was too big, too controlled, too dangerous. She didn’t think for a second that he’d hurt her—at least not physically—but he’d already proven time and time again that she wouldn’t come out on top of their interactions. Putting them in any kind of intimate setting, even if it wasn’t real, was the worst idea she’d ever heard.
It was pretty intimate when he had his mouth all over you.
She focused on the stained-glass window to avoid looking at him. She couldn’t think with him so close, but that was Journey’s problem—not Frank’s. There had to be a way around this…but as the minutes ticked by, she couldn’t come up with a single one that would fit the situation’s needs as well as his solution. With a sigh, she nodded. “You want to fake date me to get close to the information you need to do the job.” It didn’t sound that unreasonable when he put it that way. “That’s simple enough.”
Frank raised a single eyebrow. “Duchess, you were coming on my mouth roughly twelve hours ago. It’s complicated, whether you want to admit it or not.”
She fought against the heat that threatened to spread up her chest. “Like I said before—that was just sex.” It hadn’t been sex, though. He’d tongued her through her damn panties, never giving her that much-needed contact. No matter how good the orgasm was—and it was beyond amazing—she’d wanted more. Admitting as much handed him even more power than he already had in this little exchange. She wouldn’t do it.
“Just sex.” No inflection in his words. He might as well have been talking about the weather.
She should get up and walk out. Journey had more than enough to deal with without letting Frank close enough to truly fuck up her life. It wouldn’t be personal—she was sure of that—but it wouldn’t take much for him to use this proximity to strike to the very heart of Kingdom Corp. Hell, she’d already all but paved the way for him.
She had no other options.
Elliott knew how she and Anderson operated—and how to use that to his advantage. No matter how strong she tried to be, he knew her buttons too well. She would break and bring Anderson down with her. Without Anderson, Bellamy and Eliza would topple like dominoes. Kingdom Corp would go down.
And it would be Journey’s fault.
In the end, she didn’t have a damn choice and they both knew it.
Journey held up a single finger. “I’ll agree—on one condition.”
“Duchess, this isn’t a negotiation.”
“It is now.” She pointed at him. “I agree to your terms, as long as you promise not to use any information you gather against my siblings or my company.”
The interest in his dark eyes sharpened, as if she’d just revealed more than she’d wanted to. Maybe she had. It didn’t matter as long as he agreed. Frank considered her for a long moment. “This won’t work if you’re so busy protecting yourself that you’re holding back information that will impede my ability to do this job.”
She almost laughed out loud at the thought. “If I had the smoking gun linked to my father, I would have done it myself.” No one cared about poor little rich kids whose daddy beat them. They didn’t care about the years of terror he’d inflicted on his children. Even if they did and were willing to listen, there was no proof. It was his word against theirs, and she already knew which way the media would swing if it came to that. Beloved scoundrel of the Bancroft family versus the children of uppity bitch Lydia King? It was no contest in the public eye.
“Then we’re agreed.” Frank held out a hand.
She shook because she had no other choice. Certainly not because she wanted to feel his skin against hers again. His calluses scraped lightly against her palm, making her wonder what a man like Frank did to gain calluses. He wore a three-piece suit in the middle of a weekday as naturally as most men wore faded jeans, and as best she could tell, he worked something like eighty-hour weeks.
None of my business.
Journey realized she still held his hand, and snatched hers back. She reached for her purse. “If that’s all—”
“It’s not.”
She froze. “I’m sorry?”
“Mira is about to bring us food, and then we’re going to have a conversation.” His lips twitched. If he were any other man, she’d assume she amused him. “Unless there’s a reason you’re leaving in such a hurry.”
That wasn’t a question. You don’t have to answer it.
She ignored the not-so-helpful inner voice. “I can’t be gone long, Frank. I realize being one of the richest men in Houston means you have an army of staff at your beck and call, but my company is in danger of going under—partly because of actions you took against my mother. Some of us don’t have the luxury of being able to take a long lunch.” Poking at him wouldn’t do either of them a bit of good. She needed him, and he’d already agreed to help. Dicking around only threatened to ruin what little ability they had to fake a relationship long enough for him to do what was required.
His lips curved into a full smile, and she even caught a flash of white teeth. “Is that all? Funny, Duchess, but I was under the impression you were running because I make you nervous.”
* * *
Temper sparked in Journey’s eyes, a temper that Frank deliberately provoked as their conversation went on. He didn’t know how to deal with her fear. Just as well. It’s not my business. Journey isn’t my business.
Mira strode up with a tray of their food and stopped short next to the table. “What did you do, Frank?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Why are you so sure I’m to blame?”
“Because I know you.” She set the plates in front of them with the ease of long practice, and her gently chiding tone took some of the sting from her words. Mira smiled at Journey. “Don’t let Frank scare you. He’s all bark and no bite for someone like you.”
The fact that she felt the need to put a qualifier on that statement meant she knew a lot more about him than he’d realized. Of course she does. She’s a mother. Frank made an effort to keep himself toned down for Mira and her family. He liked them, and he was all too aware of what she’d think about the times when his only guiding light for his actions boiled down to one truth
—power was everything. Sometimes that meant using information to push people into choices they wouldn’t have made on their own.
Choices that benefited him and his company.
Journey’s smile wasn’t a fraction of its normal wattage, though not from lack of trying. “You sound like you know him well.”
“I do. I’ve known Frank since he was, what, twenty?” She glanced at him for confirmation but charged on before he could grant it. “He helped my husband and me stay above water, and to prosper in the meantime. Don’t let the growling and poor attitude warn you off—he’s a good man.” And then she was gone, marching back toward the hostess stand to meet a pair of women who’d just come through the front door.
“A good man,” Journey repeated, almost to herself. She frowned. “How much did you have to pay her to get her to say that?”
He bit back a chuckle. “Mira isn’t the type of woman who can be paid off for anything, let alone false compliments.” He watched the woman lead the other two to a table, chatting all the while. “I’ve known her a long time. She’s a nice lady.”
“Yeah, I guess she is.” Journey shook her head and picked up her fork. She set it down just as quickly, looking a little green. “Nothing personal, but I’m not hungry.”
He considered that statement, weighing it. Granted, he and Journey had only shared a handful of meals that were all business related, but she seemed to go after food the same way she went after everything in life. Reveling in it. Frank took a bite of his chicken, still watching her. From Frank’s information, her father had been back in town for only a few days, which didn’t explain the evidence of prolonged lack of self-care that he saw written all over her. “You’ve lost weight.”
“Why does that sound like an accusation instead of a compliment?”
He ignored that. “You’re not sleeping, and your shaking hands are either a result of too much coffee to compensate or sheer stress. How long has this been going on?”
She gripped her fork like she wanted to stab him with it, and then very carefully set it down and lined it up perfectly with the knife next to it. “I won’t let it negatively affect things going forward.”
“It’s already affecting things.” He moderated his tone, smothering his frustration and leaving his words cold and clipped. “How long?”
Journey sighed. “Since before my mother left for New York. There was a…verbal confrontation with my father on the phone while things were going down with Beckett. It’s not important, other than it dredged up some things I’m still dealing with. As a result, sleep is in short supply.” She met his gaze steadily. “Like I said, I won’t let it affect things.”
Frank shook his head. “You can’t keep going on like this, Duchess. You’ll snap before I have a chance to do my job.”
She thinned her lips. “Another condition?”
“Just speaking the truth. As soon as we came to an agreement, you became an asset. I take care of my assets.” That’s all. It has nothing to do with hating to watch her unravel in front of me.
She poked at her food. “I’m not an asset. I’m a person—a partner. If I’d wanted a babysitter, I would have hired one.”
They could go back and forth on this until the sun went down, wasting both their time. She’d resist solely out of spite even though she had to know he was right in this instance. So be it. He’d find a way around her, just like he did with every problem that arose. If he had to play dirty to protect his investment, he would.
It was all about the bottom line.
Sure it is.
Frank changed tactics. “I need information.” At her questioning look, he clarified. “The sex might be fantastic, but if I don’t know a damn thing about you, no one in your family is going to believe we’ve been dating long enough to make your introducing me to them believable.”
She opened her mouth, seemed to reconsider, and shut it. “That seems…reasonable.”
“I think you’ll find that I can be more than reasonable.” He sank enough heat into the sentence to set fire to the room, enjoying the way she flushed in response.
Journey took a sip of her iced tea. “What do you want to know?”
He could pick up most trivial information through a background check, so he skipped over into the more intimate details. “How long have we been dating?”
“The first meeting.” She answered without hesitation, no evidence of guile on her face. “We went out for drinks afterward and one thing led to another. Since my mother wouldn’t be a fan and you didn’t want to potentially damage your reputation while we worked on that real estate deal, we kept it a secret.”
He remembered exactly how she’d looked at that first meeting. Journey wore a pair of gray tailored slacks, a white blouse, and fuck-me-red heels. The combination of buttoned up and risqué had intrigued him. It still intrigued him. As often as he thought he had a read on her, he realized he didn’t know the first thing about her. Frank wouldn’t have to fake his attraction, because if she was anyone else, the first time they met would have played out exactly as she described. “Good.”
She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Let’s see—I cook when I’m stressed. I run and lift weights in my home gym. I like catchy pop songs, but I’m a big fan of jazz, especially when I want to relax. I like audiobooks. My favorite color is turquoise, though I prefer it in my jewelry to my clothing.” Journey narrowed her eyes. “I think that’s enough to start with.”
He wanted to know more, but he knew better than to push her now. Frank needed her centered and focused, and while stoking her temper might help with that, pushing too far would only create distance between them that they couldn’t afford. “I’ll leave it up to you if you want to tell Samara the truth or not.”
“Not.” She sat back and reached for her purse again. “If I tell her I’m fake dating you, then I have to explain why, and I’m not prepared to do that. I’d appreciate it if you gave me the same courtesy with Beckett.”
What are you hiding that you don’t want your friend and cousin to know about?
This wasn’t just about Kingdom Corp. If it was, bringing in Samara Mallick was one of the better plays Journey could make. Up until a few months ago, her friend had worked side by side with her on a formidable team that even Frank would have reconsidered going against. Even though Samara had made the jump to Beckett’s company, she still felt a degree of loyalty to Kingdom Corp—more importantly, to Journey.
I’m missing an important piece of information.
She stood. “I’ll call you later and we’ll get the next move set up. In the meantime, I wasn’t joking about having work.” Journey took one step away from the table and paused. “And, Frank…I do appreciate this. I know I’m not being as graceful about everything as I should be, and I’m sorry for that.” She made a face. “I can’t promise it will get better, though.”
“If there’s a way to get Elliott out of both the company and Houston, I’ll find it.”
She gave a jerky nod. “Thanks.”
Mira barely waited for the front door to close behind Journey to approach the table. “Be careful with that one, Frank.” He raised his eyebrows and waited. She huffed. “Don’t give me that look. You know as well as I do that once you get past that sharp exterior, she’s easily bruised. I’ve seen girls like her before. You be careful or you’ll harm her.”
“It’s just business.”
Mira snorted. “Whatever you have to tell yourself.” She made a shooing motion. “If you leave through the kitchen, there’s a plate of cookies my oldest dropped by this morning. Grab a few.”
He obeyed because he knew it would make her happy. Frank paused for a few seconds in the kitchen and let himself enjoy the changes the years had brought this place. The front hadn’t been altered beyond a much-needed face-lift, but as the investments had paid off, they’d upgraded every appliance back here. Mira always had liked her gadgets. He grabbed two cookies from the plate nestled next to the fridge and ducked out
the back door.
Journey needed time to come to terms with their agreement. He understood that. He had his own brand of research to do before he saw her again.
Frank needed a plan of attack.
Elliott Bancroft would never see him coming.
Chapter Five
Eliza King stepped out from the private jet and glared at the sun beating down on her. “I hate Texas.” The heat, the humidity, the people. In the seven years since her first modeling contract, she’d been back only a handful of times—and only under duress.
Everything had changed now, though.
She maneuvered herself down the metal stairs with ease despite her sky-high heels and wished she’d thought to bring a hat. She had a photo shoot in two weeks, and showing up with a sunburn would only piss off both the photographer and her agent.
A man climbed out of the waiting car, and she stopped short for a breathless moment before she recognized her older brother. “Bellamy!” Eliza dropped her bag and threw herself into his arms. The rest of this godforsaken state could melt into the Gulf for all she cared, but not her favorite brother. “I missed you so much!”
He lifted her off her feet easily and chuckled. “How the hell are you shorter than when I saw you last?”
“Shut up. I’m perfectly proportioned.” She smacked his shoulder. “You never came to visit like you promised.” Her birthday had come and gone six months ago and she’d invited him to travel to Rio with her. When he’d passed, citing work, Bellamy told her he’d come to New York that holiday season for a week. She should have known better than to expect him to follow through.
Should have known better than to take it personally when he didn’t.
Kingdom Corp came first. It had always come first for everyone in the family—except Eliza.
“You can put me down now, B.”
“Sorry.” He even sounded it, his regret poisoning her burst of good mood. Bellamy set her on her feet and held onto her long enough to ensure she didn’t fall. Then he grabbed her bags and hauled them to the trunk. “I thought you said you were only coming back for the week.”
