Secret Acquisitions

by Raleigh Davis

  Oh, his smile when I say that. It makes me think of pleasing him, of seeing that smile while I’m naked and he is too, and then getting my mind blown for pleasing him so much.

  I’m already in danger, and now I’m inviting even more in.

  Fuck me.

  Chapter 2

  San Francisco is a wonderful city.

  At least it is if you’re young, wealthy, and unattached—which I most certainly am. This city most of all wants you to have fun, to be chill, to be interesting, exciting… and for a tech billionaire, this city wants those things most of all for you.

  I’m not in San Francisco right now though—instead, I’m looking at its lights, the rolling glitter of the docks, the beacon of Coit Tower, the thrust of the Transamerica Pyramid, and the spans of the Bay Bridge from across a mile or so of frigid waters. It’s a distance meant to impose, to remind me of how far I am from civilization and all the good things in life.

  I’m not intimidated though. For tonight my friends and I own Alcatraz.

  It was Finn’s idea, the redneck of our group. His hobby is racing trucks, dirt bikes, and sand rails as fast as he can over busted-ass dirt roads. People don’t take him seriously because of it, which has made him a killer closer in the past. Nobody thinks a redneck has any brains.

  Only, we’re all so rich and well known now it doesn’t fly anymore.

  But hell, we can afford to rent Alcatraz for a party, so who cares?

  The birthday boy is Logan, the honeypot of the group. He hates it when we call him that, so naturally it stuck. But yeah, flies on honey—that’s Logan with the ladies.

  He’s got at least three around him right now, all of them looking more than eager to accompany him home. Good. He needs to enjoy himself, especially this birthday.

  I raise my glass to him across the yard, the wind screaming outside the window. It’s loud enough to pierce the music throbbing through the place. I can only imagine how horrifying the wind must sound all on its own.

  Logan raises his glass back, then raises his eyebrows.

  You’re alone, that look says. Want me to help you find some company?

  I shake my head. I’m waiting for someone in particular tonight. Someone I have no plans of sharing with anyone, at least not until I’m done with her. The second she walked into the conference room, it was a done deal. Even if she didn’t know it.

  Dev, our math genius, marches up to me, looking pissed. I’m surprised he actually came—this is definitely not his scene.

  “What happened with the Ultra meeting?” he yells into my ear.

  I’m the front of the house for our little group of VCs. Pressing flesh, interrogating applicants, leaning on people who are trying to fuck us over—I can be a good cop or a bad cop or both at once. Whatever we need when it comes to manipulating people.

  Except I lost my vaunted cool with January Harris. I hadn’t meant to—I’d told myself it was only going to be a pitch meeting. Not between old friends—we certainly were not fucking that—but between businesspeople. You didn’t have to like everyone you did business with, and most of the time, I didn’t. Her prospectus was interesting, and she was building a reputation as a brilliant coder, ready to make the leap to the big time. A good, solid investment and nothing more.

  And then she said fuck me and my dick said hell yes. The rest of me did too.

  I’ve played this game before with January, five years ago, only it wasn’t a game to me then. I was madly in lust with her, had been for two years, and was a huge fucking dork. I can admit it. One day I worked up the nerve to ask her out.

  She told me it would never happen. Not ever.

  I’d been turned down by girls before then—and after, but not for very long, not once we’d started to make money—but January’s rejection was the one that haunted me. Maybe because of all the girls I asked out, she was the one who mattered the most. When I asked her if she wanted to grab a drink, see a movie, she smiled back for almost two heartbeats. I know. I counted. It was the smile I’d always dreamed of seeing from her.

  And then her eyes had gone hard as diamonds and she’d said, No, not ever.

  I’m going to relish saying that exact thing to her when she begs me to fuck her for real this time.

  I say none of that to Dev since he’d disapprove.

  “I need more time to go over their numbers,” I say smoothly, and it isn’t entirely a lie. “I wasn’t impressed.”

  That was a lie. January had been dressed in some tight skirt that went past her knees, all innocent from the front and with a slit almost up to her ass in the back, a flash of sweet, tender knee and thigh peeping at me with every step as I’d walked her to the door. I wanted to tear the slit open all the way to her hips, bend her over the conference table, and bury myself in her pussy.

  You could have definitely called me impressed.

  “Really?” Dev’s expression shifts like he knows I’m hiding something. “Logan spoke highly of her architecture.”

  My fist curls before I realize Dev is talking about software architecture and not her curves.

  “I want to get Paul’s opinion too.”

  Paul is one of the other Bastards, the one who thinks all this joking posturing is nonsense. Well, so does Dev actually, but Dev treats it the way a robot might an annoyance: something to be ignored until it interferes with his programming. Paul will laugh even as he rolls his eyes.

  Paul, the man himself, walks up then, his cheeks red. I can’t tell if it’s because he’s been drinking—he gets the “glow”—or if it’s because it’s fucking freezing here by the windows. This place must have been agony for the prisoners, with the wind screaming outside and the cold sinking into every corner.

  And we’d chosen it for a birthday party. Call it living up to our reputation. We take ourselves much less seriously than the rest of the tech world with all their bullshit about disruption and changing history and culture-altering paradigms. Silicon Valley needs the six of us to give it the finger when we could, if only as a protest.

  “You don’t need to wait for Paul’s judgment,” Dev says.

  “Dev doesn’t trust me?” Paul grabs his heart. “I’m wounded. Where did our love go?”

  “Fuck you,” Dev says and walks off, because he’s sure as shit got “Tainted Love” stuck in his head now. He’s more susceptible to earworms than anyone I know. It’s one of his few human qualities.

  “Charming as always,” Paul says. “And no, I haven’t looked at the Ultra prospectus yet. I was waiting for your report on the meeting.”

  She told me to fuck her, so I invited her here. That’s the summary of that meeting.

  Except I’m lying to myself. Because she was scared too. Terrified. And trying so hard to hide it.

  She was right about everyone’s information being vulnerable, and I was right about the average Joe not giving a shit. But her fear was personal, which I couldn’t figure out. A coder as talented as January could lock down her shit, no problem.

  What the hell had her so spooked? I was going to find out. Mostly because I was curious and also because I didn’t like seeing her scared. Her vulnerability still got to me.

  She’s rejected you before, dude. Don’t fall for her now.

  “I haven’t come to a recommendation on that,” I say mildly to Paul because I’m not going to betray January’s secrets even if she didn’t mean for me to see them. “Do we ever not talk about work these days?”

  Paul ponders that. “Finn and I were at the urinals together the other day, and I asked what it was like having a dick so small you needed an electron microscope to see it. Does that count?”

  “What did Finn say?”

  “Nothing. But he somehow managed to get into my office and rearrange all the furniture so it was a mirror image of before. The desk was blocking the door—I had to get Maintenance to take the thing off its hinges to get in—so I have no idea how he did it.”

  Finn does love his elaborate pranks, something he picked u
p at Caltech. I always wondered what the nerds there thought of that dirtbag redneck rolling into those hallowed halls.

  But then I stop thinking of nerds and college and even Paul because January is walking in.

  The eighties are having a revival right now, all over January’s tight dress. It’s like a second skin, slinky and tight, outlining every curve. Every curve I’d like to run my tongue over. Her heels are fuck-me inches high, and the sharp points of them will feel amazing digging into the small of my back when she wraps her legs around me.

  “You found it,” I say to her as she slides up, her hips swishing in a way that makes my dick twitch.

  And then I catch sight of who’s with her and my mood goes as dark and cold as the bay.

  “What the fuck?” I growl. Not at her but at Julian Groves, who’s got a hand at her back and is wearing a smile that makes me want to take his teeth out with my knuckles.

  “Shit,” Paul says on a breath from beside me, more circumspect than I am. “How did he get here?”

  The more important question is, has Logan seen? And can we pitch Julian off this rock before he does?

  I cross my arms over my chest. “The ferry’s back the way you came.”

  January pauses, her cheeks going dark. Yeah, she knows she’s done something very bad. “Julian wanted to discuss some business, and he was only free tonight, but I had this…”

  Everyone in the valley knows you can deal with the Bastards or you can deal with Julian—but the Bastards and Julian do not do deals together. If you approach one of us for capital, forget approaching the other.

  I’d say it’s nothing personal, but it very much is.

  “Great party,” Julian says. “I mean, some people might think renting out Alcatraz is a bit much…”

  Like any of us give a fuck about that. But I say nothing because I’m still figuring how to play this—good cop or bad cop. I did bad cop with that ferry line completely by accident. His hand on January fried my common sense like a cheap resistor.

  Then it hits me: Julian’s being smarmy, so I’m going to outdick him.

  “All the money is going to the Park Service,” I say, mirroring his shitty smile back to him. “We think it’s a good cause.” I turn to January, letting my smile carry a warning now. “But we’re here to celebrate, not talk business.”

  She goes pale, the wind whipping her hair into her face and catching on her cherry-red lips.

  My dick twitches again.

  Yeah, this invitation wasn’t about business. It’s about the attraction between us and why she turned me down in college. It’s clear now why she’s attracted to me—money is better than any number of hours in the gym.

  I’d just thought January was better than that. It’s unfair that I’m toying with her like this, but I’ve reached a point where I don’t have to be anything I don’t want to.

  I don’t want to be fair. I want her in my bed.

  By bringing Julian, she’s not playing fair either. I didn’t expect her to, but my competitive urge—and my cock—is raring to go, to show her who’s in charge here.

  Before I can diffuse the Julian situation, Paul walks up, blocking Julian from the rest of the party, going for the physical approach. “Come on, man. You know you shouldn’t be here.”

  It’s too late though. Logan’s charging up, his expression stark, wild-eyed.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. And there’s a reporter from TidBytes watching the whole thing. Logan’s in that gossip rag every damn day, mostly with a woman on his arm. A mug shot would not be a great addition to their collection.

  “Is Callie with you?” Logan demands, all clenched jaw and tight fists.

  The atmosphere is charged with tension and threaded with sadness. Logan shouldn’t have to deal with this on his birthday. I wanted him to have fun, to finally forget Callie for a while.

  Julian rolls his eyes, and I can’t blame him, because why would Logan’s ex-wife come to his birthday party? Yeah, she did leave him for Julian, but even Callie wouldn’t pull that.

  “She’s not.” Julian’s tone is flat, almost pissed—pretty ballsy of him considering he stole Logan’s wife.

  Maybe Callie’s left him too. Which is no less than he deserves.

  Logan sags, but his shoulders are squared and his fists are up, like he’s going to pop Julian one.

  Time to swing in and pretend everything’s A-OK even though I want to drag January off to the nearest corner and explain why this was a very bad idea and demand what exactly she’s going to do to make it up to me.

  After. I’ll do that after.

  “Julian.” I’m handing the knife to him handle first here, but if he pisses me off, I’ll reverse it right quick. “Didn’t you want to talk to Paul?”

  Paul can haul off Julian, I’ll talk down Logan, and then I can get back to January. But Julian’s got to cooperate here.

  Julian takes my offered blade and puts it into his smile, sharp and knowing all at once. “Sure. I’d love to talk to Paul.”

  Paul sends me a look. Thanks, asshole. But he drags Julian off because that’s what we do. We have each other’s backs.

  Julian fucked Logan—his wife, to be precise—so we’ll fuck him back every chance we get.

  “Logan.” I whack him on the back, both to snap him out of it and provide support. “It’s your party, man. Forget that asshole, grab a drink, enjoy yourself.”

  He nods, but I can tell his mood is ruined. Yes, the ladies flock to him, and yes, he encourages them, but in the end, he’s still not over Callie. It’s a goddamn shame, if you ask me.

  I push him back toward the party, hoping he finds a better mood in there. I’m worried about him and want to follow—but first I need to deal with January.

  When I turn to her, I’m wearing my best smile. My smile that says I’m going to be the good cop here, but I’m still a cop. I’m still in charge.

  January’s eyes are wide, her mouth a perfect O.

  “You know the rules about Julian and us,” I say, smooth as molten glass. “What did you think you were doing?”

  Her expression closes. The surprise is gone, and she’s ready to deflect again.

  Too bad. I like her surprised face. I’ll have to arrange to see it again.

  “Julian wanted to meet tonight,” she says, all cool composure. “I’m not rich”—Like you, the tilt of her eyebrow says—“so I can’t leave any source of funds on the table. I invited him along. After all, it’s only a birthday party.”

  She’s not wrong, but something possessive surges in me anyway. Maybe because she’s not even a bit afraid here, which hits me with a fist of arousal so strong I want to go to my knees and drag her down with me.

  But still, Julian is a no-go. “You think your encryption scheme is good enough to have me overlook this?”

  She tips her head, coy. “Isn’t it?”

  “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

  “Of course. Purely in a business sense.”

  What a tease. I’m charmed and annoyed in equal measures since she didn’t come here in that dress with Julian on her arm purely for business.

  “Want a drink?” I ask.

  She takes in the rows of cells, the wind whistling outside the window, and the edged chill seeping through the windows. “This doesn’t seem like the place for a birthday.”

  I find myself agreeing with her, especially now it’s only the two of us in the solitary block. I want us to be someplace warm and dark, a place meant for pleasure rather than torture.

  “We can afford it,” I say, then feel like a complete dick. I hate that feeling, because she should be the one on edge here, not me.

  “Right.” She’s more sad than anything. Then she forces herself to smile. “Should we grab that drink and discuss my prospectus?”

  It’s the last thing I want to do. I want to know why she’s sad now, why she was afraid before, what brought her to my door for funding. Yes, I run one of the biggest VC firms in the valley, but January would neve
r have come to me if she wasn’t desperate. I know that much about her.

  “Sure.” I gesture her into the main hall where the DJ and bar and food and dance floor are set up. Even we knew setting up a party atmosphere in the solitary block would be too much, so we kept that area empty. As we head toward a table, I ask, “What can I get you?”

  Wine, I’m guessing. Something as red as her lipstick but not nearly as heady and lush as her kisses would be. She’d sip from a glass with a sensual loop of her wrist, leaving behind an impression of her lips on the rim.

  Jesus, I haven’t even touched her and I’m already losing myself in fantasies, just like I used to in college.

  She turns to me with a slight smile, her hair falling forward over her shoulder. The urge to push it back is almost unstoppable. She has to lean in so I can hear her, and I put a hand to her elbow, helping her move closer. Her mouth opens, and I can taste the mint on her breath—

  Stiffness suddenly grips her, turning her into a statue of fear. She’s terrified again.

  I spin to see what’s frightened her, my hand still on her elbow and my blood rising for a fight. Okay, I’m not exactly feeling charitable toward her, but whoever’s put that look on her face needs to be dealt with.

  I don’t see anyone but the crowd though. No one’s staring back at her, and I don’t see anyone who doesn’t belong. It’s the cream of the valley before us, the richest, most powerful, most innovative people in the world. No one who would threaten her.

  But she’s definitely frightened. The fact that I can’t see why makes the hair on my neck stand up.

  “January?” I’m not playing any kind of game here. I’m truly worried about her.

  She blinks, forces her expression to blankness. The effort in it quivers in the delicate skin around her eyes. “Actually, could we get out of here?”

  We. This is my opening. Yes, she wants my money, and I want her, but there’s a middle ground between those points. We can explore that ground tonight.

  I wait, in case someone—whoever’s spooked her—comes up, says hello.

  But we remain alone, and her impassive expression never breaks. I smile although I don’t mean it. “Sounds good. There’s a ferry leaving in five minutes. And I’ve got a car waiting.”