Lee

by Sydney Landon

  I open my mouth to answer her question, but Lee beats me to it. He slides an arm around my waist and says, “This is Liza.” He finishes the introductions, and the other woman gives me a bland stare. Apparently, there will be no greeting for me.

  She leads us to a small table in the back of the crowded room, then hands us our menus after we’re seated. She smiles warmly one last time at Lee but doesn’t bother looking my way. “Wow, she’s so friendly,” I say dryly as I study my menu. “Couldn’t you have told her that I’m your assistant? She’s likely to spit in my food now before it comes out. Maybe I should stick with bread and water.”

  Shrugging, Lee says, “Zola isn’t that brave. If word got back to her father, there would be hell to pay. She’ll have to settle for sulking instead.”

  Shaking my head, I say dryly, “You know nothing about women, do you?”

  He pauses in the process of raising his glass of water, a smirk twisting his lips. “I know how to make them scream. Isn’t that what’s important? I don’t concern myself with the rest.”

  My mouth drops open as his provocative statement stirs something inside me. Lee has never been one to filter his comments, but normally, they aren’t sexual. He’s probably always been afraid I’d lose control and pin him to his desk if he did. “I—um… right,” I manage to squeak out.

  Instead of changing the subject, he seems intrigued by my incoherent response. He sets his glass down and asks, “Don’t you agree? Or do you have a different set of priorities where a man is concerned?”

  Oh, my God. We are talking about sex, right? My mind races as I attempt a reply that doesn’t make me sound like a blubbering idiot. Or worse yet, someone fresh out of the convent. “Well… I’ve never given it much thought. I mean—it just happens, right? You can’t script those kinds of moments ahead of time.” He doesn’t say anything, simply stares at me as if waiting for more. So I stumble on, thinking I haven’t made myself clear. “Don’t get me wrong, it would be—nice to have a man who knew what he was doing. You know, who could take charge and make me—er… give me—the big finish.”

  He appears positively confused now. His brows are raised, and he’s tapping a finger on the table. Finally, he says, “You’re talking about being brought to orgasm? You’ve never been with a man who can make you come?”

  You have, you just weren’t physically there. I have no doubt that my face is a flaming shade of red as I think of the many times I’ve gotten myself off while thinking about him. “I don’t really think we need to discuss this,” I protest weakly, desperate to change the subject. “You couldn’t possibly want to know stuff like that.”

  He places a hand on my knee, and I almost swallow my tongue. I assume it must have been accidental… then he slides it higher up until it’s only inches away from my now throbbing core. “On the contrary, I’d love nothing better right now,” he purrs.

  “Good evening, Mr. Jacks. It’s a pleasure to serve you again.” I nearly jump from my seat when our server picks that moment to approach. I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed at the interruption. Lee, however, doesn’t seem fazed at all.

  “Thank you, Julian, it’s good to see you.” They have a brief discussion about the wine list, then Lee turns to me. “What would you like, Liza?”

  You, always you. Then it hits me that I’m supposed to order. I manage to ask for the spaghetti, which is sure to be a disaster. I’ll probably get it all over myself, but nothing else comes to mind. When the server is gone, a tense silence falls over us. His hand is still on my thigh, and I wonder if he even realizes it. “So… it was nice to see everyone today,” I say lamely, attempting to get the conversation back on more neutral ground. Truthfully, I’m a little sad to leave the sexually charged one behind, but what good could possibly come from it? I’ll go home turned on, and he’ll probably find a willing and available girl and make her scream. Men are such assholes.

  To my surprise, he ignores my comment and says, “I’m still waiting for an answer to my earlier question.”

  What if he’s talking about something at the office? “And that was?” I ask, then hold my breath in anticipation. Please talk dirty. No, wait, don’t. Shit, I don’t know. As the voices in my head argue it out, I try not to stare at the man who’s once again running his fingers dangerously close to no-recent-man’s land. I need to get laid. Finally, a thought that every part of me agrees with. I wouldn’t be acting like a horny teenage boy if I’d had sex anytime in the last three—make that five years.

  He leans closer as he carefully enunciates each word. “Has. A. Man. Ever. Made. You. Come?”

  Holy wet panties, Batman. I feel like one of those people you see in movies who have an asthma attack and start clawing at their chest while wheezing for breath. Do you think his partners act like this? Say something clever. Act like you’ve at least seen a naked man. “Of course,” I manage to get out. “Isn’t that the norm? I mean, you guys have one job in the bedroom, and that’s it.” Oh God, did I just say that?

  “Trust me, sweetheart, pleasuring a woman isn’t a ‘job.’ And as it appears you’ve discovered, many men don’t know or care about making sure the person they’re with comes… again and again. That’s not the case for me. A woman will always get hers first, even if I don’t get mine. I’m not an inexperienced boy and can go without. I’d just rather not.”

  I pick up my wine glass and take a big gulp—and then another. “Is it hot in here?” My voice sounds high and squeaks as I fan myself with my other hand. I’m in danger of going up in flames. Am I too young to have hot flashes? Maybe I’m in early menopause. I feel Lee’s intense gaze on me as I attempt to gather my composure. Damn him. He’s always known how to find peoples’ weaknesses and move in for the kill. But why is he bothering with me? He’s probably laughing inside at how easily he’s shaken me. Somehow, that thought gives me a surge of strength, and I lift my head to glare at him. “How do you know that you actually get women off like that? Considering most of your… dates are paid by the hour, they’re not likely to do anything other than scream your name like a porn star. You do realize that women can fake that, right?” I clear my throat, before channeling my inner When Harry Met Sally. “Ohhh Leeee, oh my God! Yes! Yes! Yes!” I add a few more moans before flopping back in my seat as if I’ve just had the orgasm of my life. Then I pick up a piece of garlic bread from the basket in the middle of the table and take a bite as if I didn’t just pretend to come in front of my boss.

  I hear a sound that shocks the hell out of me. Lee is laughing—and it’s not the usual cynical laughter. It’s a full-on booming sound of genuine humor. I stare at him as his shoulders shake. When he catches his breath, he says, “That was both the hottest and funniest thing I’ve heard lately.” He doesn’t appear in the least insulted, quite the opposite. Then he turns the tables on me. “You’ll say those very words to me one day soon, amore mio, and it won’t be an act. Your fingers will be curled into the sheets as sweat drenches your body. My face will be buried between your legs, and you’ll be coming so fucking hard that you’ll be on the verge of passing out.” His voice lowers as he adds, “And that, sweet Liza, will only be the beginning.”

  Medic! Someone call 911; I think I’m having a heart attack. Wait, on second thought, the discomfort is well below that area. I wonder if anyone has ever been caught masturbating in the bathroom at Leo’s? The thought of being caught in the act by Zola is enough to give me some measure of self-control. No. Scratch that. What if I caught Zola in the act after serving Lee? I think I’d vomit. Our food arrives, and I’m given a temporary reprieve. I half expect the verbal foreplay to continue after that, but it doesn’t. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed. Lee returns to the safe topic of business, and soon, I’m relaxed from the wine and the familiar conversation. When I can eat no more, I push my plate away. “That was wonderful.”

  Lee seems distracted now, and he simply nods before signaling for Julian to bring the check. All too soon we’re
walking toward the door. Zola manages to give Lee a goodbye embrace that stops just short of a lap dance before turning to glare at me. “I trust your meal was satisfactory,” she says stiffly.

  Lee wraps an arm around my waist and answers for me. “We both enjoyed it very much, Zola. Give my compliments to your father.”

  “Of course.” She gives me a simpering smile but doesn’t bother to look my way again. “Until next time,” she adds, and I hear the double meaning behind the words. This is Lee Jacks’s world. We’re all just dancing around his feet, begging for crumbs of affection from him. It’s not as if I haven’t known this for some time. And in the scheme of things, I’d rather see Zola throw herself at him than one of his bed buddies. After all, I’m certain he’s never slept with her and isn’t likely to.

  “Thanks for dinner,” I say softly as we step outside. Once again, he shocks me by taking my hand as we walk toward Falco. The man is either stoned or on some new medication. I wonder if he’ll share?

  He shrugs. “I have a feeling we’ll be spending a lot of time together soon.”

  I laugh. “Is this your way of saying that we’ll be working overtime until we’re caught up?”

  He doesn’t reply. Instead, he takes his cell phone from his jacket pocket with his other hand and presses a button. I hear a voice on the other end before Lee says, “Denny, I’ll need you to take Ms. Malone home. Move the car around front please. We’re almost there.”

  I pull against his hold, and he immediately stops. “I don’t need a ride, Lee. You know that.”

  He sighs, and I hear the fatigue in his voice as he says, “Honey, you had wine with your meal. There’s no way I’m letting you drive. Please don’t argue with me. You know it’s the responsible thing to do.”

  An objection is on the tip of my tongue, but he’s right. I’m certainly not drunk, but my reflexes are not what they should be after a few glasses of wine. Plus, his use of yet another endearment has me incapable of putting up a fight. Instead, I’m close to melting in a puddle of sappiness. Before I do something insane like call him my little Jacky Wacky, I shall go—quickly. I bite my lip to keep from giggling as I picture his face should I utter a pet name for him. It would almost be worth it just to witness his reaction. After all, it’s not a hardship to ride in a Rolls Royce. Even with my family’s wealth, I’ve never owned a flashy car. My father didn’t believe in spoiling his offspring. I’m still making payments on my Honda CRV. I have a sneaking suspicion Jacey couldn’t say the same for her Mercedes, but I’m fine with that. I don’t want all the strings that go along with extravagant gifts, and with my father, nothing is ever free. “Sure, I’ll call a cab in the morning,” I say as I see Lee’s car up ahead.

  “I’ll pick you up around eight tomorrow,” he says impatiently. That’s the Lee I’ve come to know. Always in charge of every little detail. I can only imagine how impossible he’d be to live with. He’d probably have his wife line up next to the bed each morning and evening for a military inspection.

  Rolling my eyes, I say, “You’re so anal. You know that, right?”

  He stops so suddenly that I slam into his side. He catches me easily before pulling me closer. Then his mouth drops to my ear and the feel of his breath against my sensitive lobe has shivers racing down my spine. “I had no idea that you were into that, amore, but thanks so much for letting me know.”

  Blinking up at him, I manage only, “Wh-what?”

  He shifts until he’s looking down at me. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. In fact, it’s very mainstream now. And although it’s not something I do every day, I’d certainly be happy to accommodate you.”

  I’m completely lost. I haven’t a clue what he’s talking about, but the gleam in his eyes and the seductive stance of his body lets me know that it’s sexual in nature. I consider running for his car without further comment, but once again, I’m too damn curious for my own good. So, I ask, “Um… what exactly are we discussing here? I’ve missed something.”

  He waves his driver away and opens the backdoor of the car for me himself. He motions for me to get in, and I reluctantly comply. I’ve barely settled against the buttery soft leather when he lowers himself and murmurs, “You indicated that you wanted to try anal. That’s what I was referring to.” He straightens back to his full height on the sidewalk while I stare at him with my mouth hanging open. Before I can protest, he shuts the door and claps his hand on the roof.

  I shake my head as the car pulls into the late evening traffic. This has quite possibly been the weirdest night of my life, and that’s saying a lot. The man I just left looks like Lee, but that’s where the similarities end. My boss isn’t the type to use endearments so freely, or to do something romantic like hold my hand, and he certainly wouldn’t be discussing anal sex with me. Not that I doubt he’s experienced in that area, but other than a few minor blips along the way, he’s never so openly blurred the lines with me before. So why now? He indicated last night that he knew about my family, yet instead of being hostile, he’s gone in a different direction. He’s playing games with you. But why? What could he possibly hope to gain from this? Lee doesn’t take backroads to his destination. And that same logic applies to those who cross him. There’s more in play here than I’m seeing. If I were smart, I’d go home, pack my bags, and leave the country. But I’m so fucking tired of being afraid all the time. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in two years. Deceiving Lee was compounded by feeling disloyal to my family for loving him. There was no way to win. I knew and accepted that. My only solace is understanding that the collateral damage will be limited to me. Because I’m finished trying to destroy Lee. I’m not sure I would have ever gone through with it even if I had found a smoking gun in his hands.

  Now it’s just a new mess and seems hopeless to me. Again. When it’s finally over, I’ll be lucky if either side allows me to walk away.

  LEE

  I’m in a particularly shitty mood as I stalk through my home. I’m also on my second glass of bourbon and a third isn’t far behind. Why in the fuck is it so damn difficult to find out who she really is? I’ve never given much thought to the abilities of Hunter Wrenn, but if I had, I certainly wouldn’t have expected him capable of crafting such an ironclad cover. Truthfully, it shouldn’t have held past the first inspection, but it did, and according to Lucian, it’s still firmly in place.

  Despite my irritation, I’m intrigued. This is bigger than I originally thought. It had to be, or none of this would have been necessary. I’m not a man prone to games. I’m far too impatient for that. So my first instinct is to go to Wrenn’s home and demand some fucking answers. And if that doesn’t work, kicking his ass would be next. The thoughts of the second option fill me with so much adrenaline that I have a hard time controlling the beast inside me. If I give the monster free rein, no one in the vicinity will be left standing. I may not be that man often anymore, but there’s no escaping the fact that I’ll always think of ways to solve problems that most normal people never will. I’m wired differently. It’s neither good nor bad to me—simply a fact.

  The only thing stopping me from getting my answers in any way necessary is her—Liza. This hold she has on me is truly puzzling, which angers me even further. I’m not in complete denial. I do have feelings for her beyond a mere sexual attraction. And that’s something I’ve never allowed myself. The last woman I let under my skin turned out to be the insane cunt who abused my daughter.

  Maria Adams.

  She’s rotting in jail now, and if I have my way—and I usually do—she’ll never live in the outside world again. That she didn’t end up face down in a river like her asshole husband is something I regret. Maria’s life might be hell now, but does she deserve to even draw a breath after what she did?

  How can a mother not only inflict pain upon her own flesh, but allow and encourage another to do the same? She is beyond evil. She should have been put down like a rabid dog. Instead, I forced her to turn herself into the authoritie
s for her role in my daughter’s brutal attack by her stepfather, Jim Dawson. Had Victor or Draco still been alive, I would have been overruled. Any insult or attack upon a member of our family demanded retribution. If the person wronged is unable to carry it out, then another steps in. Anyone who says there is no honor among thieves is dead wrong. In fact, we live by a strict code. Because without it, such a volatile group will quickly fall into chaos.

  I met Maria in the middle of a busy street. Both distracted, we crashed into each other. I’d been irritated at first—until I saw the sexy blonde with the endless legs in front of me. As I apologized, she blushed prettily before admitting she hadn’t been paying attention to where she’d been going either. She’d just broken up with her boyfriend and was distraught—supposedly. The flirty smile on her face should have been my first warning, but I’d fallen victim to a hot girl with big tits. Oldest story in the book.

  And then she committed her second sin against me. The bitch kept me from my baby girl. Seeing her so many years later, when I went to confront her about Lia, she’d barely resembled the girl I once knew. Thin, pale, and frail looking, I doubt I would have recognized her on the street had I walked past her. Her beautiful blond hair, which had easily been her best feature, was gone, and dark hair hung limply down her back. She had the look of someone who’d long used and abused drugs. I had been completely taken with her for months before Victor wanted me to oversee one of his business ventures in South Carolina. I had even pondered taking her with me, but where I was going was no place for a woman. Victor wanted my head in the game. There had been no room in my life then for a long-term relationship, and it would have ended eventually. I’d noticed her conniving side—that she tried to hide— but I’d put it down to a simple survival instinct. Then. Now, I knew differently.

  Sometimes, the atrocities people commit are so evil that death is simply too good for them. Death as an escape from punishment when there should be one. She will suffer for many more years before meeting an untimely end. Retribution. She’ll plead for the Lord’s divine intervention with one breath, then curse His very existence with the next. Maria isn’t capable of loving anyone other than herself. She is a cruel, sadistic, cowardly shrew who deserves to be buried in a hole six feet under. She isn’t, though, because of my need for revenge.