Lose Your Shirt (The Londonaire Brother Series Book 2)

by Amanda Aksel

  “Oh, yeah? What’s on that list?” She wets her bottom lip and I’m almost sure the gesture is an invitation.

  I lean in, my lips nearly touching her ear, and lower my voice, “I’m going to need a lot more wine to tell you that.”

  She lifts up on her toes, reaching my ear. “Well then, let’s go.” Liz turns on her high boot heel and walks outside.

  I follow her out and point toward my car. “This way,” I say and she changes direction. Dennis, my driver, gets out of the car and hurries over to the passenger door. He tips his hat and opens the door for us.

  Liz does a double take when she sees Dennis and slows her steps. “You have a driver?”

  “Yes, is that a problem?” I ask, though I can’t see how having a chauffeur is ever a problem.

  After another beat, Liz shakes her head. “Nope.” She goes inside and I scoot in next to her.

  “Home, please,” I request once Dennis has gotten back to the driver’s seat. Liz gazes out the window as we drive off, seeming mesmerized by the city’s architecture as we pass by. The only thing I’m mesmerized by is her, and I don’t take my eyes away from the beauty sitting next to me.

  She turns to me as if to confirm that I’ve been watching her. “What?”

  I open my mouth, wanting to tell her that she’s absolutely fucking gorgeous and that I would love to spend the evening drinking that bottle of wine with her in my bed. Naked. But if I’ve learned anything from my years in business, it’s that talk is cheap. Action is what matters. As if she knows what I’m thinking, her pretty brown eyes seem to light up even in the back of my dark car. “Nothing,” I say instead.

  Liz’s gaze falls to my mouth and her lips part. Pushing her loose strands of hair behind her ear, I lean in. Our lips meet as if they knew exactly where to find each other. Her kiss is eager as she clutches my coat collar in her hands and pulls me closer. She tastes like the black-cherry pinot, and I want nothing more than to lap her up. I run my hand down her shoulder, then grab her thigh, inching my hand up her black stocking. If Dennis weren’t here, I’d slide it down her leg. Then again, Liz isn’t the first woman I’ve had in the back seat.

  When my fingers graze the curve of her ass, Liz pulls back and catches her breath. I watch her chest rise and fall, heat radiating from her body even hotter than the heat blowing through the car vents. She lets out a little laugh and wipes along her bottom lip.

  “What?” I blink, a little dazed.

  “Nothing. I just haven’t made out in the back of a car in a while. It’s pretty fun.”

  I nudge her neck with my nose, then nibble gently on her diamond-studded earlobe. “If you think this is fun, just wait ‘til I get you in bed.”

  Liz lets out an airy moan and her breath tickles my ear. Her petite fingers tease the buttons on my coat as I kiss her neck, tasting her sweet skin. One by one, I unfasten the buttons of her coat, then slide my hand beneath her tight black sweater, tickling her smooth stomach and back with my fingertips. She tangles her hands in my hair and I can feel myself getting hard.

  My phone vibrates in my coat pocket. With my mouth still attached to hers, I pull out the buzzing device. Old habits die hard and I peek at the screen. Shit. Dad’s calling.

  “Do you need to get that?” Liz mutters, nearly breathless, peppering kisses on the side of my face.

  “No.” I ignore the call and my lips find hers like a magnet to steel.

  It vibrates again in my hand and I ignore it again. Take a hint, Dad.

  Liz pulls away, filling her lungs with air. “How much longer until we get to your place?”

  Feeling drunk on Liz, America’s finest red, I glance out the window, blinking a few times to orient myself with the familiar street signs. “Ten minutes.”

  Sexy Liz slides her coat off her shoulders, and just as I’m about to dive right into her again, my phone rings a third time. Dammit, Dad! “Sorry, I think I better take this.”

  She nods, watching me answer the call as she leans back in the seat. Her cheeks are pink and her lipstick is slightly smeared. I should have ignored the call.

  I clench my jaw. “Hello?”

  “Kent. I need to see you now.” Dad’s voice is strict. Nothing out of the ordinary. “I’m at the office.” Yeah, definitely shouldn’t have answered.

  I feel the heat rising from my dick up to my chest. “It’s Sunday night. Can it wait? I’m with someone.”

  “No. Get over here now!”

  “Fine.” I end the call and squeeze the phone in my hand wanting to crush it like an aluminum soda can. Why? Why does he have to ruin tonight of all nights?

  “Everything okay?” Liz asks.

  “No.” I breathe deeply, in and out, as I always do when Dad does something like this. “I’m sorry but I have to cut our time short.” Her hopeful smile fades away, and I hate my dad even more for this. “I’ll drop you off at your hotel. Where are you staying?”

  Liz straightens her coat and smooths out her hair. “The Seven Oceans Hotel.”

  “Dennis, change of plans,” I call. “Take us to the Seven Oceans, then take me to the office.”

  Dennis tilts his hat without a word, then takes a smooth left to circle back.

  “The office? Wasn’t that your dad calling?” Liz asks.

  “Yeah . . . it’s a family business.” After tucking my phone back in my pocket, I adjust my pants. I glance up to find Liz watching my movements. So much for discreet.

  “Which is . . . ?”

  “Which is interfering with our night of fun.” I’m really not in the mood to get into it at the moment. Once I tell women that I’m a Bonnaire, they immediately begin treating me differently. Sometimes that’s what I want, but not tonight. Then again, she’s from California and probably hasn’t heard of Bonnaire Enterprises. Plus, she must be doing well for herself if she’s staying at the Seven Oceans. I turn to face her in my seat, tracing my thumb along her jaw to the edge of her chin. “Can I see you again?”

  “Here we are, sir. Seven Oceans Hotel,” Dennis calls from the front sooner than I wanted, then gets out of the car.

  She glances past my shoulder and out the window, then back at me with a sexy shrug. “Sure, I’m staying in room 5426.”

  “5426. Why don’t I send Dennis to pick you up tomorrow night so we can finish what we started? How’s eight o’clock?”

  Dennis opens her door and a cold breeze sweeps through the backseat. She purses her lips, considering my offer. “What year did you say the wine is?”

  “2001.”

  Liz takes in a long breath, looking me up and down as if I’m a top-shelf bottle of red. “Okay, tomorrow, eight o’clock.” She grabs her bag and steps out onto the street, not looking back at me as she walks inside. I watch the way her bottom bounces under her skirt. What I wouldn’t give to have that delicious ass bouncing on me. I ball my fist and bite my knuckle as Liz disappears through the revolving door. What is so damn important that he has to see me tonight? Sometimes I wonder if he pulls this shit just to remind me who’s in charge.

  Shortly after we leave Liz, Dennis pulls the car up to the Bonnaire Enterprises Tower—the family business. I head inside the building. The only other person in the lobby is the security guard manning his station. He nods as I pass by and get onto the lift.

  Dad’s the CEO and chairman of the board, but he’s promised me his job when he retires. It’ll be nice when I can be my own boss. I definitely wouldn’t call my son to come in last minute, especially if he was with someone. Not that I plan on having children anytime soon. Or ever.

  My stomach knots as the steel doors open. Whatever this is about, my gut tells me it’s something big. That’s probably the most useful skill my father ever taught me—listen to my gut. I started young, about eight years old. Back then, my gut instincts were a little off. One time, my gut told me that it would be fine to chuck rocks at a beehive in the garden. Those angry suckers stung me about twelve times before I finally got away. But my instincts grew strong
er as I grew taller.

  When I first interned at my father’s company, my gut told me to check out the venture capital division under Bonnaire Enterprises—Bonnaire Capital. I liked the idea of seeing things develop and flourish, then selling off for a high profit, of course. And I was right. I had a knack for it. I began my employment there after university. The man who mentored me taught me to trust the numbers and that intuition was a risky sentiment. He’d been relatively successful, so I listened to the numbers even when my gut told me not to. And even when everything looked promising on paper, none of those ventures panned out well. Finally, I began listening to my gut, even when the numbers were not on my side. Time after time, I’d made the right call. It wasn’t much longer before I rose to the top of the division. Dad isn’t much for nepotism, so I had to earn it twice over.

  As I get closer to my father’s office, the feeling in my gut becomes stronger, but it’s also turning sour. I push my way through a set of glass doors that read The Office of Dean Bonnaire, Chairman and CEO, Bonnaire Enterprises. Beatrice, my father’s longtime assistant, who apparently never goes home, sits at a clunky, varnished mahogany desk just outside his door, wearing one of her signature tweed suits. Tonight, it’s the black-and-white one.

  “Is he ready for me?” I ask, approaching his door.

  Beatrice turns to me with a crisp nod, keeping her eyes lowered. That woman’s never liked me much, but tonight she doesn’t even try to hide it. I turn the knob of his private door and step inside. Dad sits behind his desk, dressed in a black pin-striped suit, and wearing a stony, stern look on his face. It’s a look I’ve seen before and I know my gut was right. This isn’t going to be pleasant.

  “Hello, Dad.”

  “Son.” He stiffens his chin and narrows his stare. “Why don’t you take a seat?”

  I sit in one of the chestnut leather wingback chairs, keeping my eyes and hands steady. He stares at me for fourteen seconds. It may not sound that long, but try sitting in utter silence across from an overbearing, slightly narcissistic dad-slash-boss in his office for almost fifteen seconds and tell me how fast your heart is beating. Mine is practically tachycardiac. My palms are damp, but I mirror his expression, showing no fear. Then again, Dad’s kind of a beast. He can smell fear.

  I’m dying to say something, but I know better than to speak first. He’s made it quite clear in the past that he’s the king of this jungle.

  “We have a problem,” he says finally.

  “A problem?” I quickly scan over the current list of Bonnaire Capital deals in my mind, but I can’t think of even a single “T” that isn’t crossed. Dad slides what looks like a contract across the desk. I lean forward, reading the top of the page. It’s not a contract it’s a—

  “We’re being sued because of you!” he roars.

  “What?” I swallow the heart-sized lump in my throat and grab the document off his desk, the words Sophia Wright—Plaintiff blaring at me. Sophia? Why would she sue us?

  “Sexual harassment.” Dad’s voice is firm, but he almost poses the phrase as a question, as if he can’t believe we’re being sued for such a thing. It’s certainly a big question in my mind. Sophia was my client. We had a short-lived fling that brought pleasure to our business relationship. But I never harassed her in any way. “What did I tell you about fooling around with women at the office?”

  I try not to wince at that. Still, Sophia was agreeable. Very agreeable . . . Flipping the page, I try to decipher the lawyer language of heretos and therefores. I look up at my father whose face has turned a livid red. Shit. This is bad.

  “I’m not involved with any employees.” Anymore. I had a thing with my ex-assistant once. What can I say? I had a collection of cash and she had a collection of miniskirts.

  Dad slams his fist on the desk. “Dammit, Kent! You cannot mess around with our clients. Do you have any idea what a lawsuit like this could do to our reputation?”

  We’ve been sued plenty of times in the past for various things. It’s a natural part of this industry. When you have money, everyone wants a piece of it. But we have the best attorneys in London, and I’ve never once seen Dad give them much attention. Why is this different? “There’s no truth to this claim.”

  Sophia and I dated for almost a month. When she started saying things like “I could get used to this,” I got the impression that she wanted something more than I was prepared to give her. So I ended it. Considerately, of course.

  He narrows his eyes. “So you never made sexual advances toward Ms. Wright?”

  “Yeah, but that’s because we were sleeping together,” I say with an innocent shrug, “but it was always consensual. We were just having a bit of fun.” Try to show a woman a good time and this is what I get? And never once was I unkind.

  Dad rises to his feet, pressing his palms onto the antique wooden desk. “Are you having fun now?”

  I shake my head, keeping my eyes down like I’m five years old and getting in trouble for letting the cat out.

  Finally, he ceases his laser beam stare into my forehead and lets out a deep sigh. “Do you have proof that it was consensual? Texts, emails, pictures? It may help our case.”

  I pull my phone from my pocket. “Yeah, I’ve got loads of text messages. Sophia sent me suggestive pictures all the time.”

  Dad rolls his eyes, not impressed by this information in the least. I scroll through the digital conversations, but I can’t seem to find anything. Searching for Sophia Wright at the top yields zero results. My jaw goes slack. “What?”

  “All you have to say is what?” Dad barks.

  My heartbeat picks up speed. “The messages are gone. All of them.”

  “Did you erase them?”

  “No,” I shake my head partially in disbelief and partially to shake away the feeling of being strangled by Sophia’s imaginary hands.

  Dad flares his nostrils. “What did you do to Sophia Wright to make her come after you like this?”

  “I have no idea.” And I really don’t. Sophia and I had a great time. I broke things off with her the same way I do with every woman. She was a little upset about it, but I didn’t think much of it. Sophia tends to be dramatic, which I enjoyed the handful of times we role-played. I never thought she’d hold a grudge.

  “Well, this isn’t just some petty case. She’s claiming damages to her business. If we lose this case, not only would we have to pay, but I’d have to sack you.”

  I suck in a deep breath, holding it in my lungs. Sacked? Would Dad really fire me after everything I’ve done for Bonnaire Capital? My silence seems to let him know that his words are sinking in.

  “Kent, I understand that you’re young, single, and rich. I know what that amounts to. I was there once too. But you cannot under any circumstances even touch another client. Do you understand me?”

  I lower my eyes. “Yes, sir, I understand.” That should be easy enough.

  “If you are to be the head of Bonnaire Enterprises one day, then you have got to clean up your image. No more gallivanting with random women.”

  Translation: no more sex. My head whips up. “For how long?”

  He shoots me a disparaging glare. “You need to get your priorities straight and decide what’s more important to you, getting shagged or running this empire.”

  I hate that he uses the job like a dangling carrot. Why does he so badly want me to be just like him? He’s my dad, but he’s also a dick, and I don’t want to be like him. And if I wasn’t so determined to show him what I can really do when he leaves this place to me, I’d have taken one of the many jobs I’ve been offered from other firms. Bonnaire or not, I’m not incapable of my own success. Dad’s the only one who seems unconvinced of that fact.

  I grit my teeth. “Is that all?”

  “For now.” He nods toward the door.

  Balling my fists, I wish I could tell him off, but instead, I just walk away. His heavy office door slams behind me. Beatrice works diligently at her desk, ignoring my presence.
I hurry back to the lift, my head spinning from all the bombs that Dad dropped in his office. What is Sophia up to? Why would she falsely accuse me like this? And where did our messages go?

  I’m tempted to go to her and demand an explanation. But I have a sinking feeling in my gut that it would not be wise. On the ride down, the lift stops on the sixth floor. My floor. The doors open. Sean, my best mate, is on the other side.

  “Kent, what are you doing here?” He flashes a smile, his white teeth bright against his dark skin, and steps inside next to me.

  “I forgot to take care of something.” I’m not quite ready to admit to anyone what’s just happened. “What are you doing here?”

  Sean flashes a stack of business cards. “I ran out of these. I was just about to meet you over at the networking thing. Did you go?”

  I think of Liz and my loss. “Yep.”

  “Boring, yeah? You want to grab a pint? Meet a few girls?” Sean wiggles his eyebrows.

  “I can’t. I have another engagement.” The other engagement is to go home and drown my sorrows in another glass of wine. Then again, whiskey might be more appropriate.

  “That’s too bad. I just got this fresh edge up, man.” He pretends to smooth out his bald fade haircut.

  “You look good, mate. You should go out and enjoy yourself.” I pat him on the shoulder.

  “I think I will.” The doors open on the garage floor and Sean steps out. “You coming?” I shake my head. “Oh, right. You have a driver tonight.” He rolls his eyes slightly, never quite getting used to the fact that my name is on the building.

  “See ya later,” I say, waving goodbye. It might be my family name, but I’m the one who’s jealous of Sean. He doesn’t have to deal with an overbearing dad the way I do.

  THREE

  Liz

  The next morning, after a terrible night of sleep thanks to jet lag, I take a cab over to Bonnaire Enterprises. The morning air is crisp, and I’m so glad that I brought every pair of fuzzy socks that I own. On the way over, I check my email for the umpteenth time today, but Jacqueline still hasn’t responded to any of my messages. She better be there this morning. I’m going to be pissed if I flew five thousand miles for nothing.