The Secrets We Hide: An Enemies to Lovers College Bully Romance (The Four Book 2)

by Becca Steele

  Sitting on Cade, I focused all my attention on the computer screen as the words appeared in the chat box.

  MERCURY: No intel on Andromeda, total dead end. We have info on the rest - sent you Vasily Ivanov’s dossier. Someone went to great lengths to hide info on him & Petr. Short summary: cousins, both part of the Belarusian Strelichevo crime syndicate. Streli sigil is on the sovereign ring you sent me photos of. Connections with larger criminal gangs in Russia & Poland.

  NITRO: Thanks. Any connections with Alstone Holdings other than Petr’s employment?

  MERCURY: This is where it gets interesting. No record of Vasily connection so that’s a dead end. BUT I hacked Petr’s accounts. Large quantity of money paid in and out, both transactions this month. Traced the account numbers. Offshore accounts. Couldn’t get much info but I have names of the account holders.

  We waited, staring at the screen, watching the blinking cursor. My heart was racing. Eventually Weston started typing, none of us able to wait any longer.

  NITRO: ???

  MERCURY: Sorry. Out: Nikolay Stravinsky. Right-hand man for Mikhail Strelichevo aka big boss man.

  In: Christine Clifford.

  TWENTY-TWO

  After that piece of evidence, we knew we needed to speed the fuck up with our investigations. Today’s job—distract my dad and Christine while West planted the trackers on their cars. Winter knocked at the door, and it was opened by Allan, my father’s long-time butler.

  “Allan.” I nodded as I passed, and he returned my nod, inclining his head at me, and gave Winter a small bow. She smiled brightly, happy to be moving one step closer to justice for her dad. We hoped.

  As arranged earlier, Weston called over to us as we were heading into the house. “I’m gonna check the leak on your car, Winter. Catch you inside in a few.” Winter gave him a wave, and we walked inside, Allan closing the door behind us.

  “How’ve you been?” I made small talk with Allan as we moved through the house, heading to the small sitting room where my father and Christine were apparently waiting. Winter walked a couple of paces behind us. It was shit, but we had to act like nothing was going on between us. No point adding to the drama.

  “Well, thank you. Other than a cough I can’t seem to shake.” He coughed hoarsely as if on cue. “Excuse me.”

  Winter made an effort to join in with our conversation to seem polite when Allan stopped and waited for her to catch up with us. “Thank you. Uh…sorry about your cough. Honey and lemon helps, I find.” She stared awkwardly at him and continued. “Sooo…how long have you worked here, Allan?”

  “Nine years, Miss Huntington,” he answered politely, and I could see her cast around for something else to say, her politeness coming across a little unnatural, and clearly making them both uncomfortable. Sighing under my breath, I distracted them by asking Allan his thoughts on Chelsea football team’s latest transfer, and she shot me a private, grateful smile.

  Allan showed us into the small sitting room, then disappeared. My dad looked up from his position on the brown chesterfield sofa as we entered, tablet balanced on his knee and his reading glasses on.

  “Caiden. Winter. No Weston?” The table lamp next to him threw shadows across his face, making him appear older, almost weary.

  “He’ll be in in a minute. Just checking something on Winter’s car.” I lightly caressed the back of Winter’s hand with my finger, where my father couldn’t see, then crossed over and took a seat opposite him.

  “Where’s Chr—my mother?” Winter asked hesitantly. The plan was to keep an eye on them both. Of course, my dad had security and cameras and all sorts of shit, so we could never be too careful, but we’d planned everything to eliminate as many risks as possible. Winter’s car had been parked next to her mother’s car, behind my dad’s, and since there was no reason for anyone to be suspicious, we were hoping West could get away with planting the trackers undetected. They were easy to place—under the wheel arch, attached by a powerful magnet, they took only seconds to put on.

  “Your mother’s in the dining room. Choosing new curtains, apparently.” My dad shrugged. “Why, when there’s nothing wrong with the ones we have. I’m at a loss.”

  “Should I go?” Winter directed her question at my dad, but it was me she was really asking. My dad and I both nodded, and she slipped out of the room. I watched her go, admiring her sexy ass swaying in her tight jeans as she disappeared, then turned back to my dad to find him studying me with a frown.

  “While I can’t say I miss the days of blatant hostility between the two of you, I’m not sure I like the way you were looking at Winter just then, Caiden. Please try to remember, she’s your stepsister and not one of your bimbos. Anything you say or do reflects on myself and your stepmother.” He levelled me with a severe look. “Need I remind you, I’m in the process of negotiating a huge contract for Alstone Holdings, and we can’t afford even a whiff of scandal.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I know. You remind me every fucking time I speak to you.”

  “Language.” His sharp tone reprimanded me.

  “Sorry.” I made an effort to calm down, leaning back in the seat, trying to appear relaxed. “How are the negotiations coming on, anyway?”

  The frown left his face, replaced with an almost pleased look, and he placed his tablet down, giving me his full attention. “They’re going well. After the Christmas break, I’m confident we should be able to wrap things up fairly quickly, all being well. By the end of January, at the very latest, I’d say. The De Witts are responding favourably to our negotiations, and as long as all goes to plan, this deal will mean we’ll not only be able to expand internationally, but we’ll be able to source high quality construction materials directly from the De Witts estates in the Netherlands, which will mean a huge decrease in the costs that eat into our profit margins.”

  “Great. Let me know if there’s anything I can help with,” I said, mostly to be polite. Then added, “But no more setting me up on dates with Jessa De Witt, whatever you do.”

  He smirked at me, the bastard. “Not a fan? I seem to remember you being all over each other last summer.”

  “That was before.”

  “Before what?”

  Before Winter came along and showed me what it was to care about a girl as more than just another hole to fuck. “Before I realised how fu—how irritating she is.”

  He chuckled, shaking his head and picking up his tablet. “Keep that opinion to yourself, but I can’t say I’m surprised. The De Witts aren’t my favourite people, but we’ve got to keep them sweet for now. I’ll do my best to keep you apart, but if you could at least stay civil—that would be appreciated. I’m sure her father has told her the same. This deal will benefit us all greatly.”

  I wondered what he’d think if he knew my girl had come after Jessa, pulling her hair and practically spitting fire. Best keep that little piece of information quiet. I smiled to myself. I fucking loved Snowflake’s jealous moments. It reminded me she cared—not that I encouraged the attention, but hey, I couldn’t help who I was. And she knew I wasn’t interested in any other women. How could I be, when she owned every part of me?

  “Yeah, I’ll stay civil. Don’t worry, Dad, I won’t purposely fuck things up for you.”

  “Language,” he reminded me, and then he looked at me. Really looked at me, like he was seeing me for the first time. “You’ve…grown up lately, son. Ever since Winter came into our lives, you and Weston are getting on better, and I’m actually seeing you more frequently than a five-minute visit every couple of months. I’m proud of you.”

  I stared at him, momentarily shocked into silence, then said the first sentence that flew into my head. “It wasn’t that infrequent,” I muttered. “But thanks.”

  We looked at each other a bit awkwardly for a minute. This wasn’t us; we didn’t talk like this. In fact, I couldn’t remember him ever telling me he was proud of me before. Maybe when I was a kid, but not that I could remember. That was always do
wn to my mum. She was the one who encouraged me and showed me love.

  Fuck. Would the pain of losing her ever go away?

  Before I could let my thoughts go down a really dark fucking path, I stood, crossing to the silver tray that held the whiskey. “Drink?”

  Of course, with the arrival of Christine, things inevitably went downhill. Snowflake came strolling in with her, chatting easily about fabrics or some shit, playing her part well, and maybe it was the fact we couldn’t show that we were together, but all I wanted to do was get her home and bury my dick inside her. She was so fucking gorgeous, but so unaware of it, or of the effect she had on me. Except for the times I was grinding my hard-on into her. I laughed to myself, and she raised a brow at me, amused, which in turn made me laugh more. What the fuck was I doing, sitting here laughing to myself like some lunatic? It wasn’t even funny.

  I rolled my eyes at myself internally and focused back on the present. “Did you manage to sort the problem with Winter’s car?” I turned to my brother, who had finally reappeared and was lounging on the sofa next to me, legs kicked up on the coffee table.

  He nodded, all casual. “Yeah. There were two small problems, but I sorted them both. Easy job.”

  Good.

  “Nice one, bro.” I held up my whiskey, and he clinked his Coke against my glass—he was driving us home, so no drinking for him. Me, even the slightest contact with Christine drove me to drink.

  “Not just a pretty face, am I?” He grinned, clearly proud of himself. As he fucking should be. My brother, the genius.

  “Yeah, you’re alright for some things.” I elbowed him and he elbowed me back, laughing, like we used to do as kids. When was the last time I’d felt this relaxed in my childhood home? Even Christine couldn’t ruin it.

  Spoke too soon.

  “Caiden, I thought I asked you to dress more appropriately for your visits here.” She looked over me, her haughty, disdainful gaze making me want to punch something. Clenching and unclenching my fists, I caught Winter’s eye. Her gaze, imploring me not to make a scene, was the only thing that kept my temper in check.

  I spoke through gritted teeth. “That was for meals. This is a casual get-together.”

  Surprisingly, my dad spoke up, and all of us stared at him, probably with identical expressions of shock on our faces. “Christine, leave it, please. Let’s try and have one evening as a family without jumping down each other’s throats.”

  Her mouth snapped shut, and she pursed her lips, folding her arms, clearly fuming, but not saying another word.

  Fucking finally.

  My brother elbowed me again, and I glanced at him to see him mouth what the fuck? at me. I shrugged, just as baffled as he was.

  “Anyone fancy a game of cards?” Winter’s tone was hopeful, and just like that, my anger left me. I stared between her and her mother. How could I have thought they were alike? Christine was so fucking prickly, she was practically a cactus. Winter was all soft lips, soft hair, soft skin, and a fucking spine made of steel. My girl could walk through fire and come out the other side without being burned.

  “Stop looking at Winter with that loved-up expression on your face. Dad’s gonna notice,” Weston hissed to me, interrupting my thoughts.

  Loved-up? What the fuck kind of face was I making?

  “I’m having an early night,” Christine announced. Just like that, my evening got better again. She got up and left, still in a sulk, giving us a general goodbye accompanied with an exaggerated huff that left all of us rolling our eyes. Other than my dad, that is. He had his nose buried in his tablet again.

  “Arlo?” Winter tried again, waiting until he looked up.

  “Yes, dear?” He eyed her over the rim of his glasses.

  “I asked if anyone wanted to play a game of cards. Nothing too taxing—we could play Crazy Eights, or something?”

  He glanced at his watch and then back at his tablet screen. Then back at his watch again. He was going to say no, I just knew it.

  “I can squeeze in one game. Cards are in the bureau over there.”

  I was not expecting that.

  Later, in bed, lying on my back and idly playing with Snowflake’s hair while she languidly traced her fingers over my tatts, done in after the three orgasms I’d given her, I voiced the question that had been on my mind all evening. “What was with all the being friendly with Christine and inviting my dad to play cards?”

  She wriggled a bit so she could look up at me. “More, now than ever, I don’t want Christine to have any reason to suspect us of being suspicious of her.” She yawned, her voice sleepy, and I kissed the top of her head. “The cards thing—I thought it would be good for you all. Try and, I don’t know, build bridges or whatever.”

  “It’s a bit late for all that, but thanks for trying.” I kissed the top of her head again.

  “Yeah, but you had a good time, didn’t you? If your dad isn’t involved in this shit with my mother, you’re going to have to work with him after uni. You have to find a way to relate to him. As equals. In business, at least. I just thought, maybe if you started chilling out around each other more, it might help.”

  “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” I pulled her on top of me, putting my arms around her.

  “I have my moments.” She smiled, biting my lip playfully, suddenly less sleepy.

  Time to take advantage of it. I rolled us over so she was pinned beneath me, my cock hardening against her.

  “Again?” Her voice had turned husky, and her blue eyes had darkened, and fuck if it didn’t turn me on even more.

  “One more time.”

  She raked her nails down my back, marking me, and I hissed, scraping my teeth down her neck, which never failed to turn her on. Her words came out on a moan. “Cade. One more time with you is never enough.”

  I stared into her eyes as I buried my cock deep inside her, watching her lashes sweep down, her mouth falling open as she moaned my name again, and I swear my heart fucking jumped. Why did I get this feeling in the pit of my stomach every time she was near me?

  Fuck. The realisation hit me like a ton of bricks.

  I was falling for this girl. Hard.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Me and Weston were sitting in front of his laptop, watching a little blinking purple dot move across a map, as we tracked my mother’s car. Arlo’s green dot was stationary—he was in the office, and the car hadn’t moved all day.

  Cassius was following my mother’s car, at a discreet distance. He was actually driving Kinslee’s car—she’d left the keys for us to use it while she was away, because we figured that out of anyone’s cars, hers would be the least recognisable since it was a nondescript, silver VW Polo hatchback, nothing to make it stand out from any other car on the road.

  As Cassius trailed my mother, he was texting us via the speech recognition on his phone, keeping us updated.

  Cass: Do you see this?

  Me: Highnam? Do you think she’s headed to the Crown & Anchor again?

  Cass: Bet she is. Duck I lost her.

  Cass: Bloody autocorrect.

  Cass: OK got the map up. I can see where she’s going.

  There was silence as we watched the moving dot; then it suddenly stopped and started moving back in the direction it had come from.

  Me: What’s going on?

  Cass: She burned around.

  Cass: Turned.

  My phone rang, Cassius’ name flashing up on the screen.

  “Thought it was easier to phone. Autocorrect’s a fucking joke on this voice recognition thing.” His voice came through the speaker, loud and clear over the muted hum of traffic around him.

  “What’s going on, mate?” Weston leaned closer to the phone, keeping his eyes on the laptop screen.

  “Dunno. She was driving, then pulled into a layby and turned around. Good thing I was stuck a few cars back so I could see her turning and follow her. We’re—hey, the docks are down here. Fuck, I’m gonna have to drive past; I’ll
go as slow as I can, but there’s a car right up my ass, flashing his lights at me. Bellend!” he shouted, making me jump. “What’s the fucking rush?”

  “Chill, Cass.” West huffed out a laugh. “Keep your eyes on Christine.”

  “Dickhead,” he muttered. “Not you, the driver behind me,” he added, after a pause. “Okay, she’s turning into the docks, she’s stopped…and I’m…okay, I’m past it now. There was a man leaning into her window—I only saw the back of his head, nothing special. He had a bit of a bald patch, I think, or it could’ve been the light. I don’t know really; I hardly saw him. I’ll turn around up here and drive back past, see if I can see anything else.”

  We waited, hearing the sound of the indicator as he turned off the road and headed back in the opposite direction. His voice came through the speaker again, excitement in his tone. “I just saw her standing there with Littlefinger! I mean, Petr. She was showing him something on her phone, I think. Looked like it, anyway. Visual proof she’s still meeting up with him.”

  “I wonder what they’re doing,” I mused aloud. “Can you turn back round?”

  “Already on it. I don’t wanna risk going past too many times, though, otherwise someone might notice.”

  Silence.

  Then, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I think Petr was watching me as I went past that time. His head turned and everything.”

  “Shit, come back now.”

  “I fucking am. Gonna ditch the car in the uni car park and pick mine up, then I’ll be home.” The phone went dead, and Weston and I stared at each other.

  “I really hope that was just his paranoia. At least we’ve seen my mother with Petr, in person. So we know she must still be working with him, because he doesn’t work at the docks anymore, does he? There’d be no reason for him to be there unless it’s to do with her.”