by Gina Gordon
“Look around. This restaurant is the best work I’ve ever done. It’s modern, it’s functional and most importantly, it’s exactly what the client wanted.”
Martin had no retaliation. No quick comeback.
“And when this place grabs the media attention like I know it will, Kelly Designs will be named in every prominent architecture magazine and blog on the continent. So he can thank me later for knocking this one out of the park.”
One point to Carson. Where were those words when she was talking to her father? Where was the confidence and determination to prove her point when Carson Kelly II was shoving his opinions down her throat?
“And just how close did you have to get to Mr. Harrison in order to…” He coughed. “Give him exactly what he wanted?”
She hoped her face didn’t give her away because inside she cringed. There was no concrete evidence that Carson and Neil had hooked up. He was fishing for anything he could use against her. But he wasn’t going to get it.
“Yes, I have gotten to know Mr. Harrison on a personal level over the last year but—”
“Does he know you’re a murderer?”
Carson recoiled at Martin’s accusation. How dare he throw this in her face simply because he’d lost their argument. “I am not…” She lowered her voice, “a murderer.”
“So someone didn’t die while you were in charge of their safety?” She wanted to jab that smug look right off his face. She knew she could take him. She would give anything to challenge him in the ring.
“It was an accident.” And she wasn’t in charge of their safety technically. Everyone knew when they made the decision to race they were putting their lives on the line. It’s not like she threw a stick in his wheel and caused him to wreck. She had no choice but to watch—as if in slow motion—her friend crash and burn in front of her eyes. “And that part of my life is off limits, and none of his—or your—business.”
“So, he doesn’t know.” Martin circled around her, tapping his finger against his chin. “I wonder what he would think of his precious architect if he knew you were a criminal?”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
She was never charged. She wasn’t a criminal or a street thug—despite her guilt over Mike’s death making her feel like one. She was an architect. Her past was nobody’s damn business and for the sake of her career, this wasn’t something she wanted broadcast to the world.
“I already know all about your past, Carson. I accept you for who you are.”
Like hell he did. He knew nothing about her. Absolutely nothing and never would. All he knew were her fathers’ perceptions, and those were so inherently incorrect that it scared her just how many people knew only her fathers’ side of the story.
Martin picked up his briefcase from the chair at the bar. “Think about my offer. We’d be unstoppable. Business partners during the day. Lovers at night.” His lip curved up in a disgusting smirk. “It’s the best you’re going to get given your history.” He walked away, a little too confident for her liking.
“It’s never going to happen,” she yelled out. But he didn’t even turn around.
She had gotten in a few zingers, but it wasn’t enough to make up for the fact that Martin had just destroyed her. He knew her secret. And that meant he held all the power.
But if spending time with Neil had taught her anything, it was to go for what you wanted without second-guessing.
And if he ever showed up she’d thank him for teaching her a lesson despite not even being aware. He had a lot of kissing up to do once he surfaced. And just exactly what kind of kissing would you like him to do? And where?
Maybe he was ignoring her for a reason. Maybe he had gotten everything he wanted from her and he was bored. Moving on to the next female stupid enough to agree to be his sex slave.
Not that she was a slave, but pretty close to it. She’d given it to him when he wanted, how he wanted, and where he wanted. And it had been fantastic. Each time better than the time before. But she knew the need to race still lingered in his mind. She could see it every time she looked in his eyes. It frightened her. Not only because she worried for the time when she wouldn’t be around to keep Neil off his bike and safe from harm, but it she couldn’t let her own life get out of control. She had worked too hard, sacrificed too much. Lost too many people. And suddenly that bad feeling she’d had earlier turned into something ominous. Neil was missing in action, and there could only be one reason for his disappearance.
She checked her phone again. Still no messages.
She called him first, but it went directly to voice mail. Scrolling through her directory, she found Cole’s number. Again, she got voicemail. She called Finn and Jack, all four numbers giving her nothing but the option to leave a message.
There was only one thing left to do. She grabbed her keys from the table and raced out the front door of the restaurant. She hopped in her pick-up and drove.
She knew where he spent the other half of his work life. He couldn’t escape her if she showed up at his brother Cole’s restaurant, Bistro. And there would be no chance to ignore her.
…
The clang of the metal doors made Neil’s skin crawl. The grey concrete, the smell of urine, and the sweat from the two other men in his cell weighed heavy on his stomach. The stale stench of alcohol that seeped out of their pores wafted to Neil’s corner.
He’d never been arrested before. But he’d done it now, gotten himself thrown in jail.
He’d been speeding. Well above the limit. So far above the limit that he had his license suspended on the spot, his bike impounded and for good measure, his lippy mouth had gotten him thrown in jail for the night. So, for the next seven days he was in need of a chauffeur.
He sat on a steel bench, his elbows resting on his knees, his head between his legs. He had no idea how he got here. Had his life spun so out of control? He hadn’t felt this alone—this lost—since he was fifteen and stared at the beige walls of his single room in an independent living complex. He had been placed there when his caseworker finally realized he just wasn’t going to mesh with any type of foster family. And he didn’t want to. Until three months later when he met Vivian.
Despite being skeptical, something told him she was genuine. And so she rescued him from that single room and welcomed him into her home.
The funniest part of this brush with the law was the fact that twenty minutes before he had been pulled over, he was happy, at peace. And it was all because of Carson. She had managed to take him away from the anxiousness that took up so much of his time. Then as soon as she left he’d decided he was going to have a little fun. He’d refrained from visiting Diaz. He had promised her, and he was a man of his word. That’s when he decided that a little race with himself wouldn’t harm anyone.
He was so wrong.
The guy in the holding cell next to him coughed, nowhere near considered a dry cough, and the sound of someone else peeing behind make him want to hurl.
“Harrison?” The tall, lanky officer slid the cell door open. “You’re free to go.”
Thank Christ. He’d called Jack as soon as he could. As soon as the officer had allowed him his one phone call. What felt like an eternity later, Jack had come to rescue him. He knew he could count on his brother. And he knew, out of all three of his brothers, Jack would have the least amount of questions.
Neil rushed the opening, not looking back, practically running toward his freedom. He picked up his belongings and was ushered out into a large foyer.
“King!”
Neil tensed. He hated that nickname. As the first to be given real responsibility with the Madewood empire, he might have flexed his muscles a little too hard trying to impress. So for the last ten years, courtesy of his smartass brother Jack, he was stuck with the name and it always made him feel like such a dick.
Unfortunately, this time, it wasn’t Jack’s voice who yelled it. He hadn’t come alone.
Jack stood off to the right, a slight smile on his smug
face. On either side of him, his brothers Cole and Finn stood, equally as self-satisfied.
Neil grumbled at Jack. “I thought you would keep this discreet?”
“Hell no.” Jack stepped forward, pushing up the sleeves of his button-up shirt, exposing his inked forearms. “I think the three of us deserve to see you at your worst at least once in our lives.”
Cole crossed his arms low against his stomach. His brown hair was still wet from his shower that morning and stuck to his forehead. “I always thought we’d be bailing Jack out of jail.”
“I would have to agree.” Finn sidled closer and wrapped his arm around Neil’s shoulder. “Oh…” He breathed deeply, his blond hair scratching against his neck. “You smell like—”
“Hypocrisy.” Jack grinned. “Don’t you smell that?”
He needed a shower. He needed clean clothes. What he didn’t need was the mocking tone of his little brother.
“Do we have to make a production out of this?”
“Oh, yes, I think we do.” Cole lifted his phone. “Smile pretty, boys.” Jack and Finn leaned closer before Neil had a chance to react, the flash of the camera was blinding.
“Jesus Christ.” He shrugged them off. “Can we just go?”
Being deprived of fresh air for even one night was too many. When they walked out of the station into the light, it smacked him in the face almost knocking him back. He needed to remember not to do anything illegal ever again.
Finn and Cole left Neil in Jack’s capable hands. They stopped by his condo so he could shower and pack a bag. That tiny cottage he called his office was going to be his home for the next seven days. He spent every waking minute at the site, and with no license, there was no reason to bother anyone to drive him back and forth.
But before he whiled away his hours on site he needed to make a stop at Bistro and pick up some paperwork.
The car ride was quiet but Jack finally spoke up, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Hell no! “Nothing to talk about.”
“You have nothing to say about the fact that I had to pick you up in jail and that you’ve lost your license for seven days. How fast were you going exactly in order to—”
“Look,” Neil straightened in his seat. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
Jack lifted up one hand acknowledging his request. The rest of the car ride was silent. Despite being so early in the morning, the air was thick and muggy. He looked in the side mirror and saw the dense smog hovered over the city in the distance behind them.
They pulled up to the restaurant, gravel crunching under the car as they parked in the driveway behind the building.
When Jack turned off the engine, Neil said, “I’ll be at the program this afternoon in case you need me.”
He turned in his seat. “I already know that. I help make the schedule. What you should be telling me is where you’re spending the rest of your time”
Neil shot him a dirty look. “What does that mean?”
“It means most nights you’re missing in action and we don’t know where the hell you are.” Jack clutched the steering wheel. “Then you surface in the morning like everything is normal even though sometimes you have scrapes and scratches on your face and hands.”
“It’s from the site.” Neil hated lying, but there was no way he was going to tell Jack the truth. “There is construction all around me and I—”
“Cut the shit. It’s not from construction. Especially, when you’re wrecking at least one bike every month.”
Neil turned to face him. “How do you…?”
There was no way he could know that. Neil bought the same bike over and over again so he didn’t look too suspicious. But obviously Jack was much smarter than he gave him credit for.
“Jack, my schedule isn’t a secret and I—”
“Because you’re going to start telling us where you are. Especially now.” Jack looked him in the eye. There was sincere concern for his welfare in his stare. “Every time we can’t find you I’m going to go from precinct to precinct thinking you’ve been picked up again.”
He hated being an asshole. But Jack didn’t need to get wrapped up in his world. “Just mind your own business and focus on your own work.”
Jack had been busy with the foundation he had created the year before in honor of their mother—the Vivian Madewood Foundation. Jack focused on securing funds for the Cooking for the Future program, a program his mother started when she realized how the culinary arts helped Neil and his brothers acclimate and focus on their future.
Neil and his brothers took turns running the program and because of Jack’s efforts over the last year, it was the reason why Neil was teaching the program in actual schools rather than just the test kitchen they had built specifically for the program.
Jack took out his phone and glanced at his screen. “Any reason why Carson Kelly would be calling me?”
Carson. Why the hell would she be calling? Neil cursed under his breath. Today was the final inspection. And he had missed it.
“She’s probably looking for me. I may be in some trouble when I finally show up today.”
“I’m off to pick up Sterling and we’re coming back to Bistro.” Sterling Andrews was Jack’s live-in girlfriend and the woman who finally got him to settle down. “I can wait for you if you want.” Jack said.
Neil shot him a dirty look. He didn’t need a babysitter. “Why the hell would you wait for me?”
“How are you going to get to the CF program?”
“Shit!” He didn’t need a babysitter, but he definitely needed a chauffeur. He’d already forgotten about the license situation. The next week was going to be torture. “I’ll just get Penn to call me one of those car services.” Penn Foster was their marketing and event planner for the Madewood group of companies, which included two restaurants, the Madewood Farm and their gourmet food stores. She worked out of Bistro and had become their go-to person for…everything. “I’ll make do for a week.”
Half an hour later, Neil sat in Cole’s office scouring the receipts from the night before.
“I’ve been phoning you all morning.”
The familiar female voice that wafted from his doorway didn’t sound so inviting. In fact, it sounded downright evil.
He looked up to see Carson standing in his doorway with the scowl he had seen so many times before on her face, her arms crossed over her chest.
“I was a little busy this morning.” Like being bailed out of jail. “Besides, my phone hasn’t rung once since I got here.” Neil grabbed it out of his pocket and thrust it forward. “See, it’s—”
“Off.” Carson stalked forward and grabbed at it, the white screen lit up.
He hadn’t bothered to look at his phone when he left the precinct. He’d just ripped open that plastic bag and gotten the hell out of there. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
She recoiled. “What?” She cupped her hand around her ear. “I didn’t hear that?”
Neil sighed. She was such a ballbuster. “I said I’m sorry.”
“Wow. I would have bet my entire trust fund that I’d never hear you say those words.”
Neil shot up in his chair. “I knew you had a trust fund.”
She gave him a dirty look. Right. Not the time or place to get into it.
“What can I do for you, Carson?”
She pulled the file folder she had tucked under her arm. “I need approvals and some signatures.”
She spent the next ten minutes boring him out of his mind discussing the inspection. Luckily, the woman had an awesome rack otherwise he would have taken a pencil to the eye.
“Harrison. Eyes up.” Her fingers pointed at her eyes. “Are you even listening to me?”
He smiled. “It’s tough to concentrate when your breasts are pushed in my face.”
“My breasts are nowhere near your face.”
Neil grabbed her waist and pulled her closer. “Now they are.”
She laughed. “You have a one
track mind.”
Yes he did. And getting in between Carson’s legs seemed to be the only thing on his mind lately. “You’re supposed to be there for me.”
“Yes.” The word came out elongated. “I promised I’d be there for you when you’re anxious about riding.”
A knock sounded on the office door. Neil released Carson’s waist and pushed her away.
Cole peeked in the room. “King, do you have a minute? Oh, hey Carson, how are you?”
“Great, thank you, Cole. Looking pretty snazzy in your chef coat.”
“What can I do for you, Cole?” There was too much nicey-nicey going on. Cole was not getting a chance to horn in on his woman. His woman? Where the hell had that come from?
“Penn told me you didn’t agree to my menu changes.”
“She’s right. I need to look them over in more detail, but it will have to wait.”
Cole fisted his hands at his side. “Neil, this is my restaurant.”
“That may be, but you know the rules. We all have to agree.” He could hardly believe the words he was saying. Was he really trying to play the power card? “Just buy some time and make the new dishes as daily specials. Gauge people’s interests.”
Carson stepped away, but the smell of her still lingered. It was enough to make his cock twitch inside his pants. Everything about this woman made his cock twitch.
“King, it will take you ten minutes to—”
“Jesus Christ, Cole. I don’t have time for this right now.”
Cole jerked back in surprise at Neil’s outburst. So did Carson. She looked at him with concern. Immediately an idea formulated in his mind.
Neil slid his hand over his face. “I’m getting really agitated. You’re really pushing me over the edge right now, Cole.” He looked over at Carson who stood, arms crossed over her luscious breasts and a big grin on her face. “I’m stressing and the only thing I think that can save me is a ride on my bike.”
“You have no license,” Cole blurted.
“What do you mean you have no license?” Carson voice went up at least two octaves. That wasn’t a good sign.
“Uhhh…” He glanced up at her, then at Cole, hoping he’d have an out. His only offering was a shrug. “I…uhh…sort of got pulled over for speeding and had my license suspended for seven days.”
