“How so? What does your brother do now?”
“He’s in jail.” He returned to the bar and reached for a bottle of scotch—Chivas Regal Royal Salute, which she happened to know from event planning sold at about ten thousand dollars a bottle. “If the other inmates know the kind of connections he has, the access to money…”
She watched him pour the amber whiskey into a glass—damn near liquid gold. “What’s he in prison for?”
“Drug dealing.” He swirled his drink along the insides of the glass, just shy of the top, without spilling a drop.
“Did your parents cover up for him?”
“Periodically, they checked him into rehabs, before they took off for Europe or China or Australia. He checked himself out as soon as they left the continental U.S.” He knocked back half an inch.
“You blame them.”
“I blame him.” He set down his glass beside the open bottle. “He made his own choices the same way I have made mine.”
“But drug dealing… Drug addiction.” She’d seen the fallout of addiction for the family members, and as much as she wanted to pour that ten-thousand-dollar bottle of booze down the sink, she also wanted to wrap her arms around Troy’s waist, rest her head on his shoulder and let him know she understood how confusing and painful his home life must have been.
“Yes, he was an addict. He detoxed in prison.” He looked up with conflicted, wounded eyes. “Is it wrong of me to hope he stays there? I’m afraid that if he gets out…”
Her unshed tears burned. She reached for his arm.
He grinned down at her wryly. “You and I probably shouldn’t have children together. Our genes could prove problematic. Sure the kids would be brilliant and gorgeous.” He stepped back, clearly using humor to put distance between them as a defense against a conversation that was getting too deep, too fast. “But with so much substance abuse—”
“Troy,” she interrupted, putting her club soda down slowly. This guy was good at steering conversations, but she was onto his tactics now. “It’s not going to work.”
“What do you mean?”
“Trying to scare me off by saying startling things.”
His eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer predatorily. “Does that mean you want to try and make a baby?”
She cradled his face in her hands, calling his bluff and standing him down, toe to toe. “You’re totally outrageous.”
“And you’re outrageously hot.” He rocked his hips against hers. “So let’s have lots of very well-protected sex together.”
She brushed her thumb over his mouth even though the gesture cost her. Big-time. Her body was on fire. “Abstinence is the best protection of all.”
“Killjoy.” He nipped the sensitive pad of her thumb before stepping back. “I’ll go downstairs and leave you to your rest then. Order anything you want from room service. Everything you’ll need is in your room. Enjoy a bubble bath. God knows, I’ll be enjoying thinking of you in one.”
He scooped up the bottle of Chivas on his way out of the suite.
Great. She’d won. And never had she felt more completely awake in her life.
* * *
He sure as hell wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight, not with Hillary sleeping nearby.
Without question, he intended to make love to her. But not tonight. He had business to take care of, ensuring he covered their trail and that she was safely tucked away. Then, he would be free to seduce every beautiful inch of her taste by taste, touch by touch, without worry that some criminal would come looking for her.
First, he needed to find Conrad Hughes.
Luckily, the leather pouch included a key card to Conrad’s private quarters. At last count, Conrad owned seven, but the one in his casino was his favorite and his primary residence since he’d split with his wife.
The second the elevator doors parted, Conrad was there, waiting. Of course he’d seen Troy coming. Nothing happened in this place without the owner knowing.
“Hello, brother.” Conrad waved him inside, brandy snifter in hand. “Welcome to my little slice of heaven.”
Conrad Hughes, Mr. Wall Street, and Troy’s first friend at the military reform school, led him into the ultimate man cave, full of massive leather furniture and a gigantic television screen hidden behind an oil painting. There was a sense of high-end style like the rest of the place, but without the feminine frills.
Apparently, Conrad had stripped those away when he and his wife separated.
Troy held up the Chivas. “I brought refreshments.”
“But you didn’t bring your lady friend. I’m disappointed not to meet her.”
“She’s changing after our trip.” Images of her in the spa tub were a helluva lot more intoxicating than anything in the top-shelf bottle he carried. “I figured this would be a good chance to speak with you on my own. Check in, catch up and whatnot.”
They had a long history together—two of the three founding members of The Alpha Brotherhood.
Conrad had been a step away from juvie when they’d met in reform school. His crime? Manipulating the stock market, crashing businesses with strategic infusions of cash in competing companies, manipulating the rise and fall of share prices. He would have been hung out to dry by the court and the press, except someone stumbled on the fact that every targeted company had been guilty of using child laborers in sweatshops overseas.
Once the press got hold of that part of his case, he’d been lauded as a white knight. The judge had offered a deal similar to Troy’s. Through the colonel’s mentorship, they’d learned to channel their passionate beliefs about right and wrong. Now they had the chance to right wrongs within the parameters of the law.
Their friendship had lasted seventeen years. Troy trusted this man without question. And now was one of those times he would have to call upon his help.
His wiry, lanky buddy had turned into someone who looked more like a pro athlete these days than a pencil-pushing businessman. The women had always gone wild over Conrad’s broody act—but he’d only ever fallen for one woman.
Conrad had gone darker these days, edging closer to the sarcastic bastard he’d been in the old days. A sarcastic bastard with dark circles under his eyes and a dining tray full of half-eaten food. His friend looked like he’d been to hell and back very recently.
Troy sprawled in a massive leather wingback chair across from Conrad. “I need to tuck Hillary away for a week or so, but I don’t want anyone looking for us.”
“Is this Salvatore-related or just a need for personal time with a lady friend?”
Conrad was one of the few people on the earth he could be completely honest with. “Started as the first, became both.”
“Fine, I can handle things from this end.”
Troy trusted Conrad to do what was asked, but he wasn’t quite as clear on Conrad’s methods, and these days, Troy was more careful about life. Right now more than ever, he couldn’t afford to let his impulsive nature take over. Control was paramount.
“Want to share how you intend to do that?”
“Because you’re worried I can’t handle it? I’m hurt, brother, truly wounded.” Conrad drained his drink and poured another.
“Because I want to learn from the master.”
“Nice salve to my ego.” He smirked. “But I get it. A woman’s involved. You can’t just leave it all to trust. I can cover for you.”
He thumbed on the wide-screen TV and a video of Hillary with Troy at the slot machine played. “I assume this little snippet here was a public display for gossipmongers and the press or you would have used my secure, private entrance.”
“Of course it was.” He and Conrad had secret access to each other’s homes around the world at any time. Yes, he had wanted people to see him with Hillary here, and he should have realized Conrad would have already intuited his plan. “Kudos to your security people for capturing my good side.”
“My casino staff aims to please.” Conrad cleared the screen. �
��I’ll loop some reels on the security tapes of you, play with the technology so it looks like you’re wearing different clothes on different days. My secretary will submit some photos to society pages. The world will think you’re here kicking up your heels like a carefree playboy with his next conquest.”
“Thanks.” He stifled a wince at the word conquest. Somehow Hillary had become…more. “I appreciate your help.”
“Your plane trip here will cement the story. It would help if you forwarded me some photos from the different airports.”
“Consider it done.” And that quickly, business was taken care of, which only left the personal stuff. “How are you, brother?”
“I’m good.”
“You look like crap. Have you slept recently? Eaten a meal?”
“Who turned you into the veggie police?”
“Fair enough.” Troy lifted his drink in a toast. “Just worried about how you’re doing since you and Jayne split.”
Even the woman’s name made Conrad curse.
The breakup had been a surprise to everyone who knew them and so far neither of them was spilling details. Even the social pages had been strangely quiet on the issue and God knows, if either had been cheating, some telephoto lens would have caught something.
Not that his friend would have ever cheated on Jayne. The two had been crazy in love, but a restless traveler didn’t work well with a white-picket-fence woman. And those middle of the night calls to assist Colonel Salvatore probably hadn’t helped, either.
Conrad rolled his glass between his palms. “Jayne took a job in the States.”
“She’s a nurse, right?” he asked, more for keeping his friend talking than a need to know.
“Home health care. My altruistic, estranged wife is taking care of a dying old guy, even though she has millions in her checking account. Money she won’t touch.” His hands pressed tighter on the cut crystal until something had to give. Soon. “She hates me that much. But hey, by all means, don’t let my catastrophe of a marriage turn you off of relationships. Not all of them end up slicing and dicing your heart.”
He flung his glass into the fireplace, crystal shattering. He reached for the bottle.
“Dude, you really need to lay off the booze. It’s making you maudlin.”
“And mean. Yeah, I know.” He set the bottle down again. “Let’s play cards.”
“Believe I’ll pass tonight. I prefer not to have my ass handed to me.” And truthfully, he was itching to get back to Hillary now that he’d taken care of business. But he couldn’t leave until he was sure his buddy would be okay.
“You’re no fun. And after I did you this great favor.”
“Hey, we could play Alpha Realms IV.”
“So you can hand me my ass? No, thanks.” He thumbed the television back on. “What do you say we catch—”
A sound at the door cut him off short and they both shot to their feet. Hillary stood on the threshold with the leather pouch in her hands and a master access key card in her other hand. “Alpha Realms IV? Really? How old are you two? Ten?”
Conrad set aside the bottle slowly, a calculating gleam in his eyes that had Troy’s instincts blaring. Mine.
“Ah, so this is Hillary Wright in the flesh. Or should I call you Troy’s Achilles’s heel?”
Seven
Hillary stood self-consciously in the open archway leading into what could only be described as the man cave to end all man caves.
She’d finished her bath and her meal only to find she’d discovered her second wind. She’d put on a chic yellow silk dress and gone in search of Troy. The guard outside her door had informed her that the leather pouch was her golden ticket to whatever she needed at the casino. Then her own personal body guard had escorted her here to find Troy and his buddy, the casino owner.
Good God, there was a lot of testosterone in this room. Whereas Troy was unconventionally handsome, edgy even, his buddy was traditional: tall, dark, buffed and broody.
Personally, she preferred edgy.
“I’m Conrad Hughes,” the dark-haired Adonis extended a not-so-steady hand. “Mr. Alpha Realms’s best friend.”
Troy hooked an arm around his shoulders. “And he’s a perpetual liar, so disregard anything he says.”
Like the part about her being his Achilles’s heel?
Conrad simply laughed. “As for being ten, yeah. We’re men. We’re perpetually ten in some aspects.”
In which case, she should probably just go. “I’ll just leave you to it. I’m sorry I bothered you.”
Troy grasped her elbow. “Hold on. I’m done here.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Right, bud?”
Nodding once, Conrad said, “We’re good. Now go, have fun. What’s mine is yours. Nice to meet you, Hillary.”
She was back in the elevator with her guard excused before she could register being ushered out. “I think you and your buddy Conrad both need to sleep it off rather than play video games.”
“I’m not drunk. Not even drinking anymore beyond the one I had in the room and one when I came down here.” He brushed his lips across her forehead. “You’re welcome to check my breath.”
She tipped her head to his, their mouths so close. And as she looked deeply in his eyes, she could see he was completely sober. He hadn’t lied. He’d controlled himself. There hadn’t been some “out with the boys” bender. He was here for her, and that was definitely more intoxicating than alcohol.
“I’m not sure I understand you.”
“Hillary, the last thing I would do is show up drunk in our room. You have understandable issues on the subject. If I stumbled in sloshed I would be less likely to score.”
And that fast he eased the tension that had been growing too heavy and fast for her.
Laughing, she strode ahead of him out of the elevator, back at their suite. “Oh my God, did you really just say that?”
She glanced over her shoulder and caught him watching her with unmistakable appreciation.
“I did. And you’re a little turned on.” Walking behind her, he stroked a finger up her spine. “Admit it.”
Hell, yes. She was burning up inside from a simple touch along her back.
“I’m a little exasperated.” She bantered right back without brushing his hand away. Funny, how she was becoming more and more comfortable with his hands on her. Maybe too much so.
“Let’s see what I can do about that.”
She spun around, hand on her hips. “Seriously, are you suffering from some kind of Peter Pan syndrome? You crack jokes at inappropriate times and you still play video games.”
“I develop software, yes.”
Her thoughts screeched to a halt. She was learning fast to pick apart his words since he had a deft way of dodging questions with wordplay. “Not just video games?”
“Did I say that?”
There was something here. “Why do I get the sense you’re toying with me?”
“Maybe because I would like to toy with you, all night long.” His hands fell to rest on her shoulders. “But we need to leave Monte Carlo first thing in the morning so you really should get some sleep.”
“We just got here. I thought we were going to play.” Is that what she wanted? To play? All she knew was that she didn’t want to say goodbye to him, not yet.
“We didn’t come here to play. We came here to get you out of the public eye.” All lightheartedness left his gaze and she saw the cool calculation at the foundation of everything he’d done. “First thing in the morning, we’re going to leave through Conrad’s private entrance. The world will think we’re here in Monte Carlo somewhere, in case anyone’s looking.”
“Where are we really going?”
“To my house.”
His house? She struggled to thread through his rapidly changing plans. “Didn’t you say you live in Virginia? Doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose of lying low?”
“I said I’m from Virginia. I do have my business based there, the corporate offices.
But I have a second home where I get away to do the creative part of my job—or just to get the hell away, period.”
With each word he confirmed there was so much more to him than she’d realized. She hadn’t looked below the surface, not really. Maybe because the steady logical man in front of her made the charming playboy all the more appealing. “Where would that be? Who knows where we’re going? I’m all for hiding out, but there needs to be someone to look for us if we fall off the planet.”
“Smart woman. I respect that about you.” He cradled her face in his hands, thumbs grazing her jaw, the calluses rasping over her tingling skin. “I assume you trust Colonel Salvatore.”
“As much as I trust anyone these days. The whole trust thing is…scary.”
“Good. Those concerns are there to keep you safe in life.” With a nod, he stepped away. “We’ll make a pit stop at Interpol headquarters in Lyon, France, and update him personally on our way.”
“On our way to where?” Her eyes followed him as he walked toward his room without pressing her to accompany him. Which of course only made her want to go with him all the more.
“Costa Rica. But before we get there, I have a surprise.”
* * *
Dinner in France?
Hillary was blown away by Troy’s incredibly thoughtful surprise. He’d remembered her wish to talk to the chefs in Chicago, and he’d taken that dream up a notch.
Some of the finest chefs in the world worked in Lyon. She’d expected to zip into Interpol and be whisked right out of the country. But Troy had given her a hat of her own and sunglasses, changed his signature fedora for a ball cap and they’d become typical tourists in a heartbeat. After an early dinner, he’d suggested a sunset walk at the municipal gardens—Jardin botanique de Lyon—in the Golden Head Park. Garden didn’t come close to describing the magnificence of everything from tropical flowers to peonies and lilies, to a massive greenhouse with camellias over a hundred years old.
The scent alone was positively orgasmic.
His hand wrapped around hers felt mighty damn special, too.
Holding hands while walking in the park was something so fundamental, so basic anywhere in the world, yet she strolled with a world-renowned guy in France, no less. Still, he made it seem like an everyday sort of date.
An Inconvenient Affair Page 9
