Promise (Venture Capitalist Book 2)

by Ainsley St Claire

  When the house comes into view, I stop dead, my heart thumping

  I’ll just have to make him understand.

  As I park the car, Trey greets me with a glass containing a heavy pour of white wine.

  “I thought you could use a drink after that drive.”

  “You know me so well. It’s getting dark, and it was already a white-knuckle drive. Thank you.” I smile, grateful to see him.

  He’s dressed in a baggy pair of khaki pants with the bottoms rolled up, a hint of sand on the top of his bare feet. His sweater is pushed up on his arms, and his dark hair is full of the curls he usually hides. He seems happy I’m here, but he also appears fragile, and I see the dark circles under his eyes.

  I hug him, and he holds me tight. I know right at this moment that placing distance between us was a mistake. There’s always the possibility that opening myself up will leave me vulnerable, but I might find something wonderful, too. Trey may one day break my heart, but I want to try. I’ll keep a few walls up, but I like him. And I want people to know that his sex video, his last name and all the craziness that comes with it doesn’t bother me.

  He helps me with my bag, and I’m stunned to find a nice romantic table setting. He tells me that dinner’s almost ready, and I sigh. “I could come home to this every day.”

  Smiling at me, he says, “Why don’t you get changed into something more relaxing and join me by the fireplace.”

  I kiss him on the cheek. “Good idea.”

  I leave my messenger bag with my computer in the living room, pick up my overnight bag and walk back to my room to change. It’s chilly out, so I put on a baggy pair of khakis and pull a UCLA Law sweatshirt on. I finally feel like I’m ready to explain my distance and take whatever he needs to say to me.

  I wander back into the living room, finding Trey lying on the couch by the fire. He’s drifted off to sleep. He looks so peaceful, and I don’t want to disturb him, so I pull a blanket from the back of the couch and cover him. Moving into the kitchen, I glance over what he’s prepared for dinner and wrap it up, snacking on the bread and an amazing olive oil dip he prepared.

  Who needs anything more than good wine and good bread dipped in olive oil? Pure heaven.

  Trey still hasn’t woken, and I don’t want to disturb him, so I get my computer out and work a bit more before calling it a night. I leave him a note that I’m looking forward to his world-famous French toast and a long walk along the beach.

  Full of nervous energy, I wake early and get into the shower. Today’s the day I've been dreading. I can't hide in my room forever, so I’ve showered, blown out my hair and applied my makeup. Everything hinges on what I say, and once done, it can never be undone. Today could be the difference between walking away with my heart torn in so many pieces it can’t be put back together, or the first day of the rest of my life.

  I gaze into the mirror and nod. Okay, enough stalling.

  I walk into the kitchen and find Trey dancing to music from his iPhone, surrounded by a huge stack of French toast, bacon cooking on the stove and coffee—the nectar of the gods—ready to drink. “Good morning,” I announce.

  His gyrations stop and he stares at me, starting to turn red, as if embarrassed, but then a smile spreads across his face. He opens his arms as he walks toward me. “Hey. I’m sorry about last night. Not very romantic or even thankful for providing me shelter.”

  I laugh. “You were tired. I can only imagine how difficult it must be to deal with this mess. How are your parents managing? It’s not like any parent wants to acknowledge their children are sexually active.”

  “I know! My mom’s first concern was if I wore a condom. And even though CeCe and I have told my parents that someone voiced over the tape, I’m not sure they believe us.”

  I laugh harder. “That is awful.”

  We sit at the bar in the kitchen, catching up. He knows everything about what’s going on at SHN, and I share my perspective. “I wish we could figure out why they felt it necessary to share our work. It doesn’t make sense. Do you think the PR blitz is working?”

  Sympathizing, he says, “I think it’s made people understand how the venture capital world works. But it sucks that Dillon is a brilliant financial analyst of start-ups and his work is out for others to emulate.”

  I stand and clear our dishes from the table. “Ready to go for a walk?”

  “Absolutely,” I say with maybe a little too much enthusiasm.

  We put our coats on and walk out past the dunes to the beach. The morning clouds dominate the sky, and though they’re mostly white, there’s a hint of grayness, a suggestion that rain may play a part in the day to come. The waves roll along the coastline in long white-fringed rows. Our feet are bare, and the sand is moist. It’s cushiony, and we walk hand in hand, letting the sand ooze over our feet and between our toes. This moment is perfect.

  We walk in silence. It’s awkward at first, but I finally get up the nerve and admit, “I’ve missed you.”

  Squeezing my hand tighter, he asks, “Why did you go? I won’t break, you know, if you tell me what’s happening. I can’t change everything about my life, but I might be able to make some adjustments that could make it easier for us.”

  “Trey, it has nothing to do with all the attention you get. It’s the mess of my own life.” I pause, struggling to tell him what should be happy and glorious news but only brings me huge heartache. “It’s the mess with Henry. And I found my biological mother.”

  He stops and turns to me. “Your biological mother? That’s wonderful.”

  I take a big breath. Now for the hard part. “Not really. She lives in Seattle. She’s married to my biological father, and they have four kids together.”

  In a clipped and angry voice, he asks, “What?”

  Trying hard not to cry, I whimper, “I have four siblings, none of them know I exist, and she wants to forget I’m alive.”

  Closing his eyes, he reaches for me. “Oh, Sara. I’m sorry.”

  He pulls me in, and I cry on his shoulder. Not the cute three or four tears that cascade nicely down my cheeks, but tears that are big, ugly and unending. Tears that fall until I’ve drained every ounce of moisture in my body, our feet buried deep in the sand as the water curls at our toes.

  His fingers beneath my chin are gentle as he lifts my face to his, meeting my lips in a kiss of wanting and warmth. His tongue darts out to taste me, the movement wrought with possession. As if emboldened by my flavor, he groans before pulling me closer with a hand behind my neck, his embrace crushing my arms against his chest. I can’t move, but I feel the power I have over him in the urgency of his kiss, his hardness against my core.

  I break the kiss, my teeth chattering as I say, “I’m freezing. Can we go in and start a fire?”

  “Sounds like a great idea.”

  Trey’s quiet as he leads the way through the dunes to the back door. He picks up a towel from the back I hadn’t seen him set there earlier, then bends down and rubs the sand from my feet.

  As he holds the door for me, he shares, “I know TMZ makes my life a mess, and the sex video is out there, but I’ve missed you. Do you think you can accept my crazy life? At least for a little while. I’m not perfect, but I promise I’m faithful. All I’ve ever wanted was the courtesy of being treated with respect by a person I care about, another human I can relate to, and that is you.”

  I nod, and we curl under a blanket while the fire rages on. I’m happy I could share my heartbreak and rejection with Trey. He’s as angry with Catherine as I am, and there’s comfort in that knowledge.

  I’ve polished off an entire bottle of pinot noir with him, and I’m feeling bolder than ever, coasting in a fog of wine. Nothing too strong to inhibit me, but enough to set me free of stress and guilt.

  I kiss him, hard and feral, my tongue aggressive and forceful. Trey responds with equal passion.

  We’re made for each other.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Trey

 
The heat warms our bare skin as we lie spooning in front of the fire. Inching my nose a little nearer to her neck, I breathe in her scent. I can recognize the perfume she uses—one of my favorites—intermingling with the outlandish aroma of our wine, pâté, cheeses and crackers. She rests peacefully in my arms, and I caress her soft skin, the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts.

  Sara is perfect in every way, and I have an inner peace when I’m with her. I’m still angry about how Henry took advantage of her. Plus it kills me what Catherine’s done, particularly when she wouldn’t give up her parental rights. I’m making a mental note to do a bit of research. Something’s a little fishy with that whole situation.

  We lie there for hours, dozing by the fire, naked, and making love. I want to please her in every way I can. She opens her legs to me, allowing access. She has the most beautiful pussy, bare, smooth and wet with anticipation as it glistens between the slit. I inhale deeply at her scent and spread her lips, running my tongue along the side of her clit. Opening her wide, I want to taste her pink pussy.

  Clawing at the blanket we’re on top of, Sara grabs at the floor, like it can give her leverage—and I know her orgasm is building. She gasps as I continue to eat that sweet little pussy. I know I should prolong it, but she pushes into my face and I can’t take it anymore. She tastes so fucking sweet that I have to get deep in there, and before I know it, I eat her harder and faster, sucking her clit and open-mouth kissing her tight pussy, the pussy that was made for me. She’s so sexy as she moans out her pleasure and screams my name.

  Removing a foil package from the side table, I sheath my hard and anxious cock. Watching her lick her lips makes me harder and she spreads her long legs wide.

  “Please! Please, I can’t take this torture,” she begs.

  Leaning down, I suckle each of her nipples, teasing them with my tongue and mouth. Her hips move beneath me involuntarily, seeking my hard cock. I find her wetness and just barely brush my thumb over the swollen nub. She moans at the contact, and I can’t take her need and wanting anymore. I thrust hard into her and we both gasp. It’s so tight, and I can tell by her eyes that there’s a small tinge of pain as I split her open. Then her legs wrap around me, adding weight to every thrust.

  I hold her hips to pull her hard on me while she rubs her clit. Her pussy holds my cock like a vice as she climaxes, and I can’t take it any longer, shooting my load before she’s come down. After sliding the condom off my flaccid cock, I wrap it in a tissue from the table. I don’t want to leave her, even for a moment.

  This feels right.

  We spend what’s left of the weekend enjoying each other, sleeping and not caring about anything outside of the world we’ve created.

  As we walk the beach after breakfast Sunday morning, she asks, “I need to go to the partners meeting at your parents’ tonight. Are you coming?”

  “No. My dad is still angry with me, and I don’t want to be a distraction.”

  “Not one person in that room would see you as a distraction.”

  “SHN is dealing with its own public relations disaster.”

  “With Greer’s guidance, I think Mason, Dillon and Cameron have managed to get out of the woods, but I understand you not wanting to go.” Eyeing me, she asks, “With TMZ staking out your work, your place in The City and your family, where will you go?”

  I peer at her, debating. Finally, I get the nerve. “Do you think Jim and Carol would mind if I stayed here? I’m happy to pay a generous rent. I just need to stay off the radar for a few weeks.”

  “It isn’t the time of year that they come up here, so we may be fine. I don’t know. Let’s call them.”

  “Wait, what have you told them about me?”

  Laughing, she says, “Nothing. They’re wonderful people, and if I tell them you’re my friend, we’ll be fine. It comes down to if they’re planning on using the house any time soon, that’s all.” She picks up her phone and places the call.

  “Hello, lovely,” a cheerful voice answers.

  “Hey, Carol. I have my friend Trey here on speaker, and we’re up in Stinson.”

  “Hello, Trey. Nice to meet you,” she says warmly.

  “Hi. You have a beautiful house here.”

  “You’re very sweet. It needs a lot of work. That salt air is not good for all the wood.”

  I laugh. “Salt air isn’t good for metal or concrete either.”

  “So true. Sara’s dad is a structural engineer, and he could talk your ear off on that subject.”

  “Well, I hope one day I’ll get the chance. I was wondering, are you planning on coming up here this month?”

  “We were, but nothing’s written in stone. What are you thinking?”

  “Carol, Trey is somewhat famous,” Sara interjects. “His last name is Arnault.”

  “Are you related to Charles and Margo?”

  “Yes, they’re my parents,” I confirm. “I’m Charles Michael Arnault the third. I go by Trey since my grandfather was Charlie and my father is Charles.”

  “Wonderful. Now, what’s going on?”

  “Well, I have the tabloid press stalking me over a video someone secretly recorded and doctored. Would it be possible to rent the beach house for the month? I’ll pay you five thousand a week. I can wire you the money today.”

  “Let me talk to Jim, but I don’t think it’ll be a problem if you stay. What number can I call you back at?”

  I rattle off my cell phone number, and Sara picks up the phone and walks into the other room for a bit of privacy to continue the conversation. I hope she can work her magic so I can stay here this month. It would be a godsend to hide here.

  Sara returns to the kitchen. “Jim came back while I was talking to Carol. He’s fine with you staying. They don’t want you to pay any rent, but I told them you could make sure that the deck was repaired and that the house was ready for the season.”

  “That’s easy. Great. Thank you.” I bring Sara in for a kiss. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

  Blushing, she says, “Don’t worry about it.” She glances at her watch. “I think I need to go if I’m going to be in Hillsboro for dinner.”

  I’m not ready for her to leave. “When will you be back?”

  “I don’t know.” She runs her hands through her hair. I can tell she’s choosing her words carefully. “So much depends on what we learn tonight.”

  I’m disappointed, but I understand. “Please at least try to come back next Friday for the weekend.” Desperately, I add, “And I want to talk to you every day. It’ll be lonely here without you.”

  She laughs. “So you only want me for my body.”

  I nod. “And your beauty and brains, too.”

  “Let me know how easy it is to work from here.”

  “I’ll get a lot done without the distractions, and I’ll get the deck figured out and whatever else might need to be done here.”

  She leans in and kisses me. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

  “I miss you already.”

  We walk to her car and off she starts the drive back to The City.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Sara

  As I drive the two and a half hours to my partners meeting, my mind drifts to our weekend. Being vulnerable and sharing my biological mother’s rejection lifts a huge weight off my shoulders. I’m happy for the first time in a long time.

  This feels good. I feel good.

  I’m not last to arrive at the Arnaults’, but almost. Greer comes in a few moments after I do. Dillon asks about Trey, and I decide now’s as good a time as any to announce that we might be more than friends. “Trey is reachable by cell phone. He’s staying at my foster parents’ beach house in Stinson for the next month.”

  With her brows knitted, CeCe says, “We talked as I drove down. He didn’t mention it was through you that he got the beach house, but thank you for arranging that.”

  Wanting the focus to not be on me, I simply say, “I’m glad I co
uld help.”

  I wait for CeCe to ask other questions, but I get pulled into a conversation with Mason and Dillon about an upcoming sale.

  As we settle into our seats for our meeting, my cell phone pings.

  Trey: Thank you for telling everyone. Does this mean we have a relationship we’re telling people about?

  Me: I was going to call you on my drive home tonight. Who told you?

  Trey: CeCe.

  Me: Is she upset?

  Trey: Are you kidding? She’s warning me that if I hurt you, she’s promised something much more disastrous than the video.

  I glance up to find CeCe watching me closely, smiling broadly. I’m excited that she’s so happy for us. I text him back: She’s planning our wedding already.

  Our meeting runs for two more hours, and we discuss a few client bids we’re working on. Since our traces of the saboteur didn’t work out, Charles has reached out to several of his contacts. They’ve been working things in the background, and now we’ll begin moving things up. They’re going to reach out to Perkins Klein, searching for funding of some of their ideas, and we’ll see what they come up with. They’ll help us garner information and, if we’re lucky, help us locate the leak at SHN. I take notes and know my plate is going to be full for the days to come.

  As we break to go home, CeCe links her arm with mine. “My brother is completely smitten with you. Please tell me you like him at least a little bit? He’s really a great guy. The video was taped by a crazy without his knowledge ages ago, and it was all voiced over.”

  I’m silent as she rattles on and on, selling me on her brother.

  Eyeing me when she finally pauses for a breath, she says, “Well?”

  CeCe is definitely okay with our coupling. Trey and I talked about a dozen topics but have yet to talk about what we are. I’m smitten, but beyond admitting we’re friends, that’s all I want to share.

  “CeCe, you’re amazing. And I know the video was faked.” She stares at me, probably expecting me to profess my love, but until we do that together, I want to keep it special and so I fudge the truth a bit. “I like your brother. I don’t know what we are, or if we’re anything more than friends, but we are exploring our options.”