by Livia Grant
But she wasn’t prepared for how upset her girlfriend was at being shut out. Khloe stormed around her to stand angry, hands on hips as Emma rushed to get dressed to make an escape. “What the hell is going on, Emma? You haven’t been yourself all day today, and now this. What aren’t you telling me?”
Emma reached for her phone, desperate to call for a car. The only problem was her hands were trembling so bad, she almost dropped the phone to the wood deck just before Khloe snatched it out of her shaking hands.
“I need that!” she cried as Khloe held the phone out of reach. She hated the sound of desperation in her voice.
“Not until you level with me. What’s going on? Is this because of moving to California?”
Damn, how easy it would be to just go with the nugget of truth Khloe had served up. She was just so damn tired — physically, mentally, but especially emotionally. Tears sprang to her eyes, making it harder by the minute to dig herself out of the hole she was standing in.
“I don’t like living here. I miss D.C.,” she answered truthfully.
Unlike the men who had been too preoccupied to dig deeper into her frequent tears, Khloe looked like she had nothing better to do for the rest of the year. Emma felt the heat of her glare as she crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for Emma to continue.
She reluctantly added, “I’ll be happy when the club opens and the guys are less distracted.”
“You need to tell them,” Khloe asserted.
Emma’s heart rate doubled, unsure what her friend was implying. She asked cautiously, “Tell them what? That I want to go home?”
“That, and that it’s causing you to struggle with an eating disorder. I give Ryder and Trevor shit for how they hound me, but I know they both do it because they love me. Jaxson and Chase love you more than life itself. Anyone who watches the three of you together for two minutes can see it. They may be distracted, but you need to get their help.”
Emma reached out to snatch her phone back, unhappy with the conversation. “They’re too busy right now. They don’t have time to worry about anything else until after the clubs open. It can wait until then.” Emma let her friend continue to think they were talking about bulimia, even though nothing could be further from the truth.
Khloe leaned closer, talking softer. “We both know they are going to lose their shit when they find out you kept something this important from them.”
They were going to lose their shit no matter what.
Through trembling hands, she managed to get a car en route to her location as she ignored Khloe’s continued staring. Emma pulled out her wrinkled sundress and threw it over her bathing suit, anxious to leave.
Panic was closing in. She’d been holding on by a thread. She needed to escape before she lost it. She tried to brush past her friend, but Khloe grabbed onto her biceps and dug in, painfully holding Emma in place.
“Ow! You’re hurting me!”
“No, you’re hurting yourself. Talk to me, dammit!”
The women’s eyes met for the first time, and Emma saw understanding and empathy pouring back at her from Khloe’s expressive glare. It was tempting. Having someone else to share the burden of the truth with.
“I can’t.”
“I don’t want to pry, but this is something I know about. Please let me help.”
“Sorry,” Emma scoffed, “but you don’t know shit about my problem.”
“I’ve spent a damn fortune on counselors and therapy to work on my eating disorders. If my acting career ever tanks, I could make a living as a psych specializing in this area.”
Up until this very minute, Emma had skirted the guilt by being able to say that she had told half-truths. She’d simply not included all of the details when the guys would inquire about what was going on with her. It was a thin line in the sand of accountability and truthfulness. With certainty, she knew to continue letting Khloe believe she had a disorder would be wrong on so many levels.
She took a deep breath before clarifying, “You’re just gonna have to trust me, Khloe. I am not forcing myself to throw up because of a disorder.”
“But if not that, then… “ Her friend’s question died in the air as excited surprise replaced concern in Khloe’s eyes. “Oh my God. You’re pregnant!” She’d shouted the words loud enough, the neighbors acres away had to have heard.
“Shhh. I think the guys heard that all the way in Beverly Hills,” Emma complained.
“Why didn’t you tell me right away?” Khloe bounced on her toes with excitement. “Chase must be beyond thrilled. He always loved kids. And I can’t believe Jaxson even let you out of his sight. I would have thought he would have wrapped you in bubble wrap by now, refusing to let you do anything that might hurt you or the baby.”
Emma looked away, too ashamed to look Khloe in the eye as she answered. “They have enough stress right now without adding to it,” she hedged.
“What?! You haven’t told them? Are you crazy?”
Tears flooded at hearing the words she’d been internally scolding herself with for weeks spoken out loud by the only other person, besides her doctor in D.C., to know the truth.
“I need… to go…” she choked out, trying to hold it together. She had to agree that being pregnant certainly messed with a woman’s hormones. She felt like she was on an emotional rollercoaster these days.
“Wait. No. I’m sorry. Stay. You just surprised me is all.”
Unwanted tears kept coming as despair threatened. This was supposed to be one of the happiest times of her life. She wanted to be happy. She loved the little nugget growing inside of her more than life itself, but would that be enough?
She was at the front door when Khloe stopped her again, this time by rushing around her to block her exit. “Don’t go. Not like this. You’re upset. Talk to me. Explain it.”
She was tempted. She’d carried the load alone for over a month. She’d been tempted to talk to Samantha about it, but knew there was no way Sam would have kept her news a secret from Jonah, and once Jonah knew, it would take ten seconds before he called Jaxson.
Emma pulled a tissue from her purse and blew her nose, trying to calm down. Khloe waited patiently, refusing to rush her.
“I haven’t told the guys, no. They are so busy with the clubs. We have to get them open before the first of May to avoid a bunch of expensive add-ons.”
“Okay, but that doesn’t seem like that important of a reason to me. Jax and Chase adore you. They worship the ground you walk on. This is something they are going to be extremely upset about not knowing. They are going to be fathers.”
“No, one of them is going to be a father. The other is about to feel like an outsider,” Emma added bitterly.
“No way. They will both love the baby no matter which one of them is the biological father.”
“Of course they will, but my father warned me about this when we started this complicated relationship. He made it clear he wasn’t going to be happy if his little girl wasn’t made an ‘honest woman.’ He’s going to be pushing for us to get married. There is just one hitch — three people can’t get married. That means one of us would have to be left out. I refuse to do that to either of them.”
“Of course you do. There is no way you’d intentionally hurt one of them like that. You could never pick one over the other.”
“So, my baby will be a bastard. I’m coming to terms with that. It’s not that unusual these days, but my dad will lose his shit. And what about Jaxson’s plans to move into the top floor of the club? Won’t that be a wonderful place to raise a child? I mean I love Black Light, but it’s hardly the kind of place I want to raise a baby. This will change everything with our relationship.”
“Stop. You’re getting way ahead of yourself. You shouldn’t be dealing with this all on your own. Let them help you.”
“Dealing with what on your own?” It was Trevor’s voice booming behind her. He was back from his run.
The women’s eyes met, and Emma silently
begged Khloe to keep her secret.
Khloe went into award winning actress mode. “Emma is upset that the local newswoman keeps hitting on Chase. I told you about it this morning, remember? I’ve just been telling her she needs to talk to Jaxson and Chase about how upset she is.”
Emma mouthed her silent ‘thank you,’ before Khloe pulled her into a hug.
Her friend whispered into her ear, “I don’t like this. I’ll keep your secret for now, but you need to talk to them soon.”
“I will. I promise.” She couldn’t say more. She was choking on emotion. She needed to get the hell out of there. Needed to go somewhere where she knew no one. Where she could be alone to just think and get her head back on before going home.
The Uber driver honked from the driveway. Emma pulled out of the hug. “I gotta go.” With a final smile, she flung open the door and rushed to the waiting black sedan, only letting herself release the pent-up tears when the car had safely pulled out of the drive on the way to nowhere.
Chapter Four ~ Chase
“Don’t worry. I can guarantee one hundred percent compliance with your security protocols. My team is the best in the business.”
Chase had to stifle his laugh at the blowhard sitting at the other end of the makeshift conference table. He could feel Jaxson’s growing agitation with the way the day’s meetings were going. Lola had hired the most expensive recruiting firm in the region. They’d promised to endorse only the strongest candidates to fill the top positions for both clubs. So far, each applicant they’d met was more disappointing than the last.
Jaxson pinned the would-be head of security with a stern glare before asking, “And just how do you propose you’d go about that considering I haven’t shared even one of our security protocols with you yet?”
The idiot was too stupid to realize how foolish his boast had been. “The recruiting agency shared your security protocols with me, of course.”
“Really? That’s interesting since we didn’t share our plan with them either,” Jaxson said.
For the first time the interviewee, Rob Starr, hesitated. “Well, I mean, it’s a club. How unique could the procedures be compared to the other half a dozen clubs I’ve run?”
Chase reached into his briefcase, pulling out the half-inch thick manual they’d created the year before at Black Light in D.C. They’d created the handbook after a serious security breach nearly cost them the entire club within a month of opening.
He tossed the book into the middle of the large sheet of plywood they’d put across two sawhorses to create a table. “That’s how unique the protocols can be. That’s our security binder for just one of our clubs on the East Coast.”
The candidate, realizing he had over promised, tried to discredit Chase next. “Well, sorry, but I’m the only security professional in the room. I think my experience weighs a bit more when talking about security procedures than a book created for a club thousands of miles away.”
Chase ground his teeth in frustration at the asshole’s condescending tone.
Jaxson countered, “And as the owners of the club, I think mine and Chase’s extensive experience in choosing our key staff weighs a bit more than yours. You’re dismissed.”
The surprised look on the guy’s face before he started to argue back was priceless. “Now, wait a minute. You’re making a big mistake.” The idiot in the immaculate suit and neatly cropped hair continued, “Mr. Rivera promised me I was a shoe-in for this position and that it would come with a six-figure base and monthly bonuses.”
“Mr. Rivera is a minority investor. Extreme minority.” Jaxson chuckled. “He can’t promise jack shit, particularly when he didn’t even bother to pick up the phone and call me with his dubious recommendation. Now, please leave. We have more people racked and stacked, waiting for their chance to be interviewed.”
As the blowhard shot to his feet in a huff, Chase couldn’t resist getting in his own jibe. “And just a piece of advice for your next interview. Don’t ever guarantee one hundred percent success of something before you’ve even reviewed the job responsibilities. It just makes you sound like an idiot.”
He caught Jaxson nodding his head in agreement out of his peripheral vision just before Lola leaned into his Dom’s other side, placing her hand intimately on his forearm before whispering against Jaxson’s ear, “This is the best candidate. You need to reconsider.”
Chase gritted his teeth again, this time to stop from commenting. He had originally thought Emma was exaggerating when she’d complained about Lola’s aggressive pursuit of Jaxson. Now that he’d opened his eyes and paid more attention, Emma was absolutely right.
The bitch needed to go as soon as the clubs were opened.
Jaxson wasn’t deterred in the least, answering her quiet comment with a loud, “My mother could do a better job at keeping our clubs safe than that pompous jerk. If that’s the best California has to offer, then we’re in some serious trouble.” He yanked his arm out of her grasp, making Chase want to cheer.
“Well, I don’t know if we’re going to have any new candidates in time to meet our timeline. The only other guy here for security isn’t qualified to lead the team. And don’t forget we’re still looking for the club manager.”
Chase silently added ‘and a Dungeon Master’ to Lola’s running list of hiring needs. He was seriously beginning to doubt they would make their cutoff dates.
Jaxson was every bit as stressed as he was. Chase couldn’t remember seeing his longtime friend and lover as agitated as he had been in the last few weeks. His naturally dominant Dom had become downright grouchy about how things were going. Normally the jovial one of their trio, even Chase was having a hard time staying positive under the tense conditions.
Still, he was worried about Jaxson who hadn’t been sleeping well. Chase pushed down his own anxiety, knowing Jaxson needed him to be the calming force he often was.
Chase slipped his hand into Jaxson’s lap, stroking down his Dom’s thigh and back up again. He leaned close enough to talk softly into Jaxson’s ear. “Take a deep breath.”
Jax turned, their gazes connecting and, had he been standing, he would have toppled over from the hardness staring back at him. Jaxson was in a dark place. Contractors and construction crews worked around them to turn the already gorgeous private residence into one public and a second private club as Chase let his hand move to Jaxson’s face, gently stroking the day old, and sexy-as-fuck, stubble on his best friend’s clenched jaw.
He spoke gently, letting the love for the remarkable man flow out. “I mean it. Everything will be fine. This is just work shit.” With relief, Chase could feel Jaxson’s jaw unclench as he internalized Chase’s encouragement.
“We can’t open without a fully staffed and trained security team. All I can think to do is fly Blake out and put him on temporary assignment out here until we can find someone full-time.”
Chase hated the twinge of desperation in Jaxson’s normally confident voice. “You know that’s not an option. He’s only a few semesters away from getting his criminal justice degree. He can’t leave D.C. midterm.”
“You think Daniel could handle it?” Jaxson asked, grasping at straws.
Before Chase could answer, a voice interrupted their private conversation. “Excuse me, Mr. Davidson. Mr. Cartwright. I’d like to help if I can.” The deep voice came from a few feet away, the speaker’s accent thick.
The men turned in unison, looking to match a face to the sound. On the surface, the candidate was dressed appropriately for an interview—black slacks, white button-down shirt, and grey textured tie. Having spent years on the runway and in front of fashion cameras, Chase honed in on the details that told him just how uncomfortable the guy was in that tie.
He had earlobes with stretched holes, piercings in his right eyebrow and left nostril, and colorful tattoos bright enough to be seen through the thin, off-the-rack white shirt, with tendrils of what looked like an ink octopus sneaking out from the wrist cuffs. By the time
Chase finished his assessment, returning his gaze to the guy’s face again, the dude was smiling.
“I know. I may not look like Mr. Corporate America, but I’m fucking good at what I do.”
Jaxson probed, “And what exactly is that again?”
Only then did the guy look down, grabbing a few sheets of paper and a small business card from the leather portfolio pad, moving closer to hand them to Jaxson.
“Miguel Martinez. I’m applying for the Head of Security position.” Chase wasn’t impressed until he added, “Ryder Helms is the one who recommended I apply.”
“How the hell do you know Helms?” Jaxson questioned.
The guy looked uncomfortable before eventually answering. “Let’s just say our fathers were part of the same family up in Santa Rosa.”
Chase knew just enough about Ryder’s history to know not to ask the candidate any personal questions. The guy’s use of the word ‘family’ was clue enough.
He had almost forgot Lola was there until her shrill voice interrupted from behind them. “This is a waste of our time.”
Jaxson cut her off. “You’re right. Chase and I can handle this. I’m sure you have something more important to be doing somewhere else in the club.”
She huffed before turning to leave. They could hear her heels clicking on the marble flooring as she stomped away.
“Let’s continue. What kind of experience do you have?” Jaxson asked, reaching out to take the guy’s resume, glancing over it as he answered politely.
“Well, for starters, I've been the head of security at The Office, our… clubhouse for almost eight years. It's a mixed purpose location, based on the time and day. We also have some rather unique security concerns, similar to what I understand you might be facing.” The guy chose his words carefully.
“And just what exactly did Helms tell you about our unique security concerns?” Jaxson pressed, obviously agitated that Ryder might have shared info he shouldn't have with a non-member.
