by Nikki Chase
“Have you been touching yourself, kitten?” Caine trails kisses up my inner thighs, making me squirm in the armchair.
“You already asked two questions,” I protest.
“We’re done playing, in case you haven’t noticed,” he says, reminding me that he’s the one who sets all the rules around here. “Now, tell me, kitten, have you been touching yourself?”
I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from moaning. When Caine speaks, I feel the hot breath from his mouth on my pussy through my sweat pants, and it makes me yearn for his lips there. I don’t even know how being eaten out would feel, but I know I want it, now that his lips are literally one inch away.
I nod.
“Good girl.” Caine lands a kiss on my pussy over my sweat pants, and I instinctively raise my hips for more. He chuckles as my face reddens again. “Have you been thinking about me, maybe about what we did in the kitchen?”
I nod again. I can’t speak, but I’m making these weird noises, these lustful sighs and moans that fill the air despite my attempts at stifling them. Caine pulls my sweatpants and panties off my legs, and I let him.
“I can make you feel even better,” he says. His tongue makes contact with my wet folds, and he grunts as he envelops me with the warmth of his mouth, turning my body into a limp rag doll on the armchair. “I’ll teach you all the filthy, delicious things your body can do right now. All you have to do is beg me.”
My eyes snap open to see Caine’s face between my legs, his tongue darting in and out to circle my opening and tease my clit.
He wants me to what? Isn’t it enough that I’m here, letting him do what he wants to my body, in exchange for money? Doesn’t he already have what he wants?
He can have my body, but I’m not going to beg him like a pet dog.
“Well?” Caine flattens his tongue and runs it along my slit, from the bottom to the top. He hovers right over my pussy, his breath hot on my clit. “You know you want it. Beg me and I’ll give it to you.”
I’m throbbing. I need his mouth back on my pussy, but I’m not doing this. “No.”
“No?” Caine plays with my clit with the tip of his tongue, going around and around it. He sucks my lower lips into his mouth every once in a while.
My body starts to shiver. My hands grab at the green fabric of the armchair, holding on so tight my knuckles are turning white. I know I’m close. I just need a little bit more.
Caine knows it too. He knows the signs, and he deliberately extends my suffering. As soon as it feels like I’m about to finally get there, he slows down, cruelly giving me the slightest stimulation to keep me on the edge—his breath, or a graze of his lip.
“Beg me, kitten,” he demands in a voice hoarse with desire.
“No,” I say more insistently through the fog of my own arousal. I want him to know he doesn’t own me. Not really.
“Okay.” Caine sits down on the cow hide rug under the armchair and looks at me sternly. With a firm voice, he says, “Then we’re done here. It’s been fun playing this game with you. Go back to your room.”
Caine
“Pop, what is it?” I open the door to his home office and march inside. I place my palms on his desk.
“Calm down. Take a seat.” As usual, he’s leaning back in his chair with his elbows on the armrests and his fingers interlocked in front of him.
I frown. Why is he so calm? When I got that text message, I thought some kind of catastrophe had happened.
“Why did you call me?” I sit in the chair across from him.
He doesn’t usually call me to his home office in the middle of the work day. He knows I’m usually busy juggling all kinds of things that are critical to keeping the business running smoothly.
Besides the timing, there’s also the message itself.
Home office. As soon as possible. Don’t let Nathan know.
That must be a bad sign, right? Pop works really closely with Uncle Nathan. As far as I can tell, anything one knows, the other one knows as well.
“I need you to do something for me,” he says.
“That much is obvious.”
“Remember when I asked you to find an old friend of mine, Bertha Jones? How’s that going?”
“My guy found her address, and we took care of the loose ends around her dead daughter’s case. Then you got sick and I got buried in work.”
“Go pay her a visit. Tell her I want to see her.”
“Is she an old girlfriend, Pop?” I squint at him. I know what “friend” means, coming from him. He’s always been a bit of a ladies’ man, but I can’t believe he’s taking me out of my work day to hunt down some woman. “Did she dump you? Maybe you should find a new one.”
“It’s not like that.” He scowls. “Look, I just want to meet her again. When you’ve almost died, you realize how important old friends are.”
I sigh. I swear, for such a tough guy, Pop can be a little dramatic sometimes.
“Okay, but let me get this straight. You want me to take time off work to track down this woman, when you’re out of commission and there’s a ton of work at the office?”
“Well, yes. You don’t want me to strain my elderly body looking for her myself, do you?”
Interesting. It seems he’s developed a taste for relaxing at home. This was an unusual request when he first asked me last week, but now it’s even weirder.
I ignore his question and counter with another one of my own. “You just want to know if she’s doing well?”
“Yes.”
“And you want to keep this a secret from Uncle Nathan?”
“Yes. Keep him busy and just tell him you need to take care of something somewhere else. A business trip.”
“Why can’t he know about this?”
“Oh, you know how he is.” Pop waves his hand dismissively, as if the answer is obvious. “He’s not going to let you go just to take care of personal matters.”
“What do you mean ‘oh, you know how he is’? The you that I know wouldn’t have sent me on this weird mission.”
“Well, I’ve been reformed.” Pop smiles. “Again, her name’s Bertha Jones. Let me know when you find her.”
He’s so sly. I never know if he’s telling the truth. I wonder if this Bertha Jones is one of the many lovers he’s had since Mom died. Maybe Uncle Nathan is into the same woman?
Or maybe… Could it be someone from his past, from when Mom was still alive? Their relationship was always strained, now that I think about it. If that’s true, it would make sense for Pop to keep this from Uncle Nathan, seeing as he was such good friends with Mom.
“Who is she?” I ask Pop point blank.
“I’ll tell you everything at the right time. Just do what I tell you to do.” From the tone of his voice, I know Pop means that. He’s not going to tell me, no matter how many times I ask him to. He’s going to stubbornly refuse to talk about it.
He knows I’m going to do it anyway. I always do. Pop’s an asshole, but I have a soft spot for him.
Unlike Cole, I listen to him. Cole’s wrong—I’m not Pop’s favorite; he just finds me more useful.
I don’t mind that. I like being useful for him, for the family. That’s what the old man’s life has been about, also: the family. He always tells me that’s all that matters, that’s all that always stays with you, no matter what.
That’s why, unlike Cole, I’m sticking around, no matter how difficult things get. I’m sure as Pop gets older, it’ll get harder to deal with him. He’ll get even more unpleasant, maybe even obnoxious, but he’s family.
That’s why I’ll do it. I’ll track down this Bertha Jones for him, no questions asked. That’s what family is for.
“Okay, Pop. I’ll get it done.” I take a deep breath and sigh.
“Good. I knew you would,” he says.
“How’s the nurse doing?”
“It’s nice having her around. I forgot how good it is to have some feminine presence in the house,” he says.
“Don’t sleep with her, Pop. It’s hard to find a good nurse.”
“I don’t intend to,” he says defensively.
I ask him a few questions about his health, how he’s progressing after being released from the hospital. He seems to be doing better than I expected.
When I finally walk out the front door, I see two big bodyguards in black suits talking to one guy, blocking him from the entrance.
Jesus, not this guy again.
“What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?” I ask as I walk down the stairs.
“Caine,” the guy says with a smile, as if we were old friends and I was going to get him inside.
“Paul.” I nod at him, but don’t return the smile. “What do you want?”
“You know what I want. I just want to see your dad,” he says.
“The last time you came, he got so stressed out he had to go get checked up at the hospital,” I remind him, maintaining my outer calm while anger is boiling inside me.
“Maybe he had reason to feel guilty,” he says.
“Fuck off, Paul. We don’t do anything illegal.”
“Are you sure?” Paul sneers. “Do you know everything that happens in the business? I know you’re your father’s favorite, you’re the crown prince of the family, but how much do you really know?”
“There’s no reason for the police to be here, Paul. Believe me.” I manage to speak with certainty, although I’ve sometimes wondered the same thing.
“Oh, I believe you, crown prince. I believe you believe what you’re saying. But I don’t believe you know everything you need to know.”
“What does that mean?” I frown.
“That means your dad has secrets. You may want to think about anything strange that has happened lately. I bet you can think of a few things, huh?”
“I don’t know what you’re implying, Paul, but you’re barking up the wrong tree. Now, do you have a warrant or not? If you don’t, this is a private property and I can refuse to let you in.”
“Come on, Caine. Don’t be like that.”
“No warrant, huh?” I smirk. I turn to the bodyguards and give them an order. “Please escort Mr. Brent here to his patrol car. He has no right to be here.”
The men grab Paul’s arm, flanking him as they take him down the driveway to the police car parked by the rose bushes.
Pop has always insisted on a manicured landscape, even though he doesn’t do any gardening himself. The long driveway to the mansion is lined with tall trees on both sides.
As I drive away from the home where I grew up, I wonder if the cop is right. Is there something Pop is hiding from me? Something illegal and dangerous?
I don’t think he’d knowingly endanger the family, but what if he misjudges the risks of an illegal enterprise? Things are not like they used to be back in his day.
The only secret I can think of, the only strange thing that has happened recently, has to do with this sudden lunchtime meeting.
Who’s Bertha Jones?
Sure, I’ve discovered some facts about her from my private investigator, but facts and figures rarely tell the whole story. I already have her address, though, so now it’s just a matter of paying her a visit.
Bertha Jones has been living in the small town of Ashbourne for the last forty years, so she can’t be one of Pop’s recent lovers. He doesn’t tell me much about his affairs, but he doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who’d get into a long-distance affair.
Bertha Jones’ life seems boring on the surface, except for two things.
One, she has a dead stripper for a daughter. The daughter was killed by her boyfriend, a piece-of-shit owner of the strip club where she worked.
Word on the street was, the guy was hell-bent on going after the girl who’d ratted him out, as well as Bertha Jones. So, we paid his posse a little visit and gave them a strongly worded warning to stay away from both women.
Two, Bertha Jones seems to have no past before moving to Ashbourne four decades ago. There are no records of her early twenties, her teenage years, or her childhood.
What secret is Pop hiding, and who is this mysterious woman?
Daisy
The doorbell rings, and I jump from the shock. In all the days that I’ve been here, I haven’t heard the doorbell ring even once.
Maybe I can pretend I’m not home? I don’t know what’s waiting for me behind that door. I’ve also never discussed this with Caine. I just assumed nobody ever visits him.
But it could just be something super normal like the UPS delivery guy, in which case there’s probably no harm opening the door and Caine probably expects me to behave like a normal, sane person and just let the guy in.
I tiptoe toward the front door, trying to stay quiet as I pad across the cool marble floor. I line up my right eye with the peephole and focus.
It’s a guy in a business suit. An expensive business suit. So, definitely not the UPS guy.
He has short, light-brown hair and thin lips. I’d say he’s about Caine’s age, so probably in his mid-thirties. He’s good looking, I guess. Well dressed. I’d probably stare for a while if I saw him at the mall.
Maybe he’s one of Caine’s business associates?
“Can you open the door already?” The guy runs his fingers through his thick hair. He heaves an impatient sigh.
I freeze. Could he have heard my footsteps?
“You’re casting a shadow through the peephole,” he says.
That explains it. I guess I have no choice now but to at least talk to him.
“Caine’s not home,” I finally say. My heart is beating fast. I’m not supposed to talk to anyone, but I don’t know if this counts as breaking one of Caine’s rules and I don’t want to risk it. I hope this guy will just go away.
He smiles into the peephole. “I’m his cousin, Todd. I’m sure Caine has mentioned me.”
“Not really,” I say. Caine hasn’t told me anything personal about himself, much less the name of his cousin.
“Could you let me in so I can use the bathroom? I need to pee really bad.”
I hesitate. This should be fine, right?
Caine’s cousin drops by to visit and he just happens to be out. Completely normal. So, a normal reaction would be to let him in.
“Please?” Todd puts his palms together and smiles. “I promise I won’t bite.”
With a knot of anxiety in my stomach, I unlock the door and slowly pull it open.
“Thanks.” Todd extends a friendly hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Todd, Caine’s cousin.”
“Daisy,” I say as I shake Todd’s hand and return his smile. I don’t offer any more information about myself, though. The less people know about my connection to Caine, the easier it will be for me to leave this phase of my life in the past.
“Nice to meet you, Daisy.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
“Caine has never mentioned having a beautiful girl in his apartment.”
“He’s never mentioned having a cousin either. When does he ever tell anyone anything?” I laugh nervously. I get the vibe that Caine doesn’t open up to anybody, but I’m screwed if it turns out it’s just me he’s acting all mysterious with.
“You have a point.” Todd grins, showing off his pearly white teeth.
“Um, the bathroom is—”
“I know where it is,” Todd says before I can finish my sentence.
Of course. He’s obviously been here before, so he knows where everything is.
He walks straight toward Caine’s bedroom door, his shiny leather loafers echoing with every step. I’m about to redirect him to the bathroom when he looks at me over his shoulder and says, “I prefer the ensuite bathroom. It’s bigger.” He winks and disappears into Caine’s bedroom.
Shit. I hope Caine doesn’t mind.
Sure, I’ve been a little nosy, going through Caine’s drawers and cabinets. The agreement doesn’t say much about what I can and can’t do inside the apartment, but I’ve
stayed away from Caine’s bedroom out of respect because that’s personal space.
Before long, there’s the faint sound of flushing and Todd emerges from Caine’s bedroom. I smile, relieved this is almost over.
“Thanks for letting me in, Daisy,” Todd says as he approaches me by the front door. He stops about one foot away and gives me an appreciative look. “I still can’t believe Caine is hiding a girl like you in his apartment.”
I smile as heat spreads across my cheeks.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Daisy. If you’re ever bored with Caine, come find me.” Todd shoots me a big grin before he strides out the door into the freedom of the outside world, leaving me alone again in this big, empty apartment.
He’s so different from Caine. So friendly. He smiles a lot.
Come to think of it, though, I guess Todd’s just normal. I probably have a distorted view of normal human behavior, since I’ve only been interacting with Caine lately. Cold, intense, rude, domineering, arrogant Caine.
Ugh. I’d sleep on cardboard if I could talk to someone else, someone I actually know rather than some random cousin of Caine’s.
Maybe…
Maybe if Todd can go in and out of Caine’s bedroom just like that, it’s okay if I sneak in, too?
It’s not out of curiosity. I’ve seen what’s inside the room, after all. But when I was in there last night, I spotted a phone on the night stand.
Maybe I can make a quick phone call? Caine never has to find out.
“Shit. I have to go,” I say into the phone. “Take care, okay? Do your homework.”
I hang up and scan the bedroom.
I’ve gone over this in my mind so many times. I need to go in and out before Caine gets home. If he gets home and I’m still here, there’s nowhere to hide.
Now he’s home. I can hear his key turning in the lock, then the door opening and closing again.
There’s nowhere to hide.
When Caine bursts into the room, I’m still standing by the night stand, looking as guilty as a dog that has just shredded the morning paper.
