Baron

by Joanna Shupe

  A very becoming blush stole over her pale skin. “I should like that very much, Mr. Sloane.”

  “Excellent,” he said with far greater enthusiasm than he felt. “I’ll cable you with a date.”

  * * *

  Ava finished with her last client and glanced around the hotel room to check she had all her belongings. She’d been on edge all day, certain that Grey and Harris would walk in at any moment. However, the two blackmailers had been noticeably absent. She was relieved, hopeful they’d forgotten about her. She did not want to participate in any fraudulent scheme those two had cooked up.

  She didn’t even bother to remove her costume. The wig, heavy cosmetics, and black clothing could be dealt with at home. The sooner she left, the better.

  More than ready to leave, she opened the door and took a step into the hall. She stopped short. Grey and Harris waited there, casually leaning against the opposite wall and staring right at her. Damn.

  “Madam Zolikoff,” Grey said, tipping his derby. “How nice to see you.”

  She swallowed a sigh. “Mr. Grey. Mr. Harris. Is there something I can do for you?”

  “Shall we talk inside?” Harris pointed to the hotel room behind her. “I think we’ve a few things to discuss, don’t we?”

  With little choice but to allow them in, Ava stepped back inside the room. The two men followed, the slam of the door behind them like a harbinger of doom.

  “Nice group today,” Harris said. “You must’ve pocketed quite a bit of coin.”

  She said nothing as the men prowled the space. They went in opposite directions, obviously hoping to keep her off balance. It worked. She could only see one of them at a time, which increased her nervousness over what the other man was doing.

  “Have you thought about our offer?” Grey slipped his hands in his trouser pockets. “We think you’d be a nice asset to our group.”

  “An offer? More like a threat.”

  “You act as if there is risk involved. Our plan is foolproof. No one gets caught and everyone makes money.”

  “But people get hurt.”

  Harris and Grey exchanged a surprised look. “Hurt? These are sheep, Miss Jones. Fools lining up to get advice from performers such as yourself. Throwing money about as if it were water. They can hardly be trusted to think for themselves.”

  “So we’re doing them a favor by stealing from them?”

  “I don’t care for your tone,” Grey said. “Or the word ‘stealing.’ We are opportunists, Miss Jones, as are you. Please do not pretend your motives are pure.”

  She could hardly argue with that, though she liked to think she provided a service in exchange for the money she received. What Grey and Harris were proposing was out and out fraud. Could she steal from people who put their trust in her? She had enough trouble sleeping at night with all the worries weighting her down. Could she add one more and still remain sane?

  While she was mulling over a way out of this mess, Harris said, “Let us be clear. You will be exposed if you say no. Exposed and humiliated.”

  “Exposed and humiliated, yet not imprisoned.”

  Grey laughed, his long side whiskers shifting. “Imprisoned? My dear woman, no one is going to jail—at least not for this.”

  “What if I agree not to tell anyone of your plan and we part ways amicably?”

  “I’m afraid that is no longer an option,” Harris said, the steely menace in his voice as terrifying as the long scar on his cheek.

  “I’m curious, what does Mr. Sloane think of your career?” Grey asked behind her.

  Her face must’ve given away her shock because Harris said, “Yes, we know all about your special friendship with Mr. Sloane. How do you think it would affect his campaign if your relationship were made public?”

  She froze, unable to breathe. They had been watching her closely—more closely than she’d assumed. “No one expects politicians to be free from scandal,” she muttered.

  “True, but those who are have a much better chance at being elected. Will he forgive you, I wonder?”

  The walls began closing in, the tangled web of her own deceit strangling her. One thing for certain, she would not bring shame to Will or his campaign. He desperately wanted to be elected to office, and she would not allow their association to be used against him.

  If it were only her, she might risk saying no. But her family needed her, needed her income, and Will did not deserve to be humiliated. Her only hope was that she could hedge, stall in producing any clients willing to pay money to a fictional company, which should give her a bit of time to figure something else out. In a few weeks, she could think of a way out of this mess, couldn’t she?

  “Fine. Tell me what you need me to do.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Ava, come look at this,” Tom’s voice called from the fire escape. All three of her siblings had retreated outside after dinner, hoping to cool off a bit.

  Their apartment contained two tiny windows, one in each bedroom, much too small to allow for a cross breeze between their three rooms. Which meant the entire space remained sweltering all summer long. Sleep proved difficult starting in June until late September. In fact, Sam, her youngest brother, slept on the fire escape most summer nights.

  Though it was mid-June, the temperature today had soared to the low nineties, dropping only a few degrees now that the sun had set. Neighbors could be heard shouting and arguing through the open windows, a nightly serenade in the misery of a hot New York summer.

  Ava wiped sweat off her brow as she rinsed the last of the dinner dishes in the sink. She hadn’t been sleeping well either, but the heat had little to do with her anxiety. She still hadn’t figured a way out of Harris and Grey’s scheme. Perhaps she could make a few fake payments for “clients” until Will’s election concluded.

  The idea depressed her. Paying off Grey and Harris from her own savings meant her goal of getting out of the city would take that much longer. Yes, Tom’s increased wages at Northeast helped, but it wouldn’t be enough to replenish blackmail money. And Lord knew, once one started paying blackmailers, there was no respite. They would only expect more money as time went on. She sighed as a trickle of sweat rolled down between her shoulder blades. What was she going to do?

  “Ava!” Tom called again.

  “In a minute,” she replied. She needed to clean the kitchen before bedtime, because once she sat she might not have the energy to get up.

  “Hello, Mr. Sloane,” she heard her brother say, and her body jolted. Had he said . . . ‘Sloane’? Her ears must be playing tricks on her. No way would Will Sloane be visiting. She hadn’t heard from him in two days, and there was no reason for them to see each other again.

  “Yes, she’s here. Come on up. Third floor.”

  God, what was Tom saying? Ava glanced down at herself, horrified to discover she was covered in flour, soapsuds, and sweat. Her hair must appear a total fright. Was it truly Will?

  Stop being a fool. Why do you care what you look like?

  She tried to calm her racing heart. He’s just a man underneath. Yes, a man who’d never been touched by flour or soapsuds, and had likely never broken a sweat.

  Wrong. You felt his sweaty, naked body only two days ago.

  That memory caused her body temperature to soar even higher. Dragging in a breath, she reached for a hand towel and did her best to clean her hands and dress.

  “Ava, did you hear?” Mary asked as she stepped through the window. “A man is here to see you.”

  Sam followed, a wide grin on his small face. “And you should see his carriage. He must be rich.”

  Tom smacked the back of Sam’s head as he entered the room. “He is rich and he’s my boss, so be on your best behavior.”

  “That’s your boss? The one who asks after Ava all the time?”

  Ava blinked. Will had spoken to Tom about her? Why hadn’t her brother ever mentioned as much?

  A knock sounded at the door and a knot formed in Ava’s throat.
Before she could force her legs to move, Sam darted for the knob. “Sam, wait—” she started.

  Too late. Her youngest brother had opened the door. Ava braced herself.

  “Hello, Tom’s boss. Won’t you come inside?” He bowed with a flourish, which caused Mary to giggle.

  “Hello, Tom’s brother. Thank you.” Will Sloane stepped into the tiny room and removed his top hat. He was dressed in a stark black tailcoat with a white vest and shirtfront, so absurdly handsome that Ava’s stomach dropped.

  His sharp gray gaze bounced around the room until it landed on her. One side of his mouth hitched ever so slightly. “I beg your pardon for interrupting your evening.”

  “We don’t mind, do we, Ava?” Tom came forward a few steps. “Please, step in and make yourself at home, sir.”

  “Thank you, Tom.” He set his top hat down on their dining table and followed the three Jones siblings to the shabby couch and chair. Sam dropped into the chair, so everyone else had no choice but to sit on the couch. Unbelievable. . . Will Sloane, here in her apartment. He looked entirely out of place here in his evening finery. No doubt he’d just attended some fancy dinner party or event. So why come to her apartment?

  Her siblings must not learn she’d slept with Will. She didn’t like the idea of them knowing about any of her relationships, not that there had been any, but in particular this one. The younger two would get the wrong idea, romanticizing it into something it wasn’t, and Tom would be upset. Not only was Will his boss, Tom was old enough to realize what a rich man like Will wanted with a woman like Ava.

  The sooner she got rid of him, the better. Snapping out of her stupor, she stepped across the narrow space to the seating area. Thank goodness she’d cleaned earlier today. At her approach, Will shot to his feet—and Tom quickly followed suit. Will moved aside, as if to give her his seat, but Tom said, “Ava, please. Sit here.”

  Her brother . . . being chivalrous? Ava tried to keep her shock from showing. “Thank you,” she murmured, and assumed Tom’s seat.

  Will lowered once more and an awkward silence descended. Finally he cleared his throat. “Tom, perhaps you’d like to introduce your brother and sister.”

  “Oh! Of course. I don’t know where my damn—dashed head went. This is Mary, my sister. And over there is my brother, Sam. Meet Mr. Sloane, head of Northeast Railroads.”

  “A pleasure,” Mary said quietly.

  “The pleasure is mine, Miss Mary,” Will said with a charming smile, causing the young girl to blush.

  Sam’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Do you really build railroads?”

  “Yes, I do. Quite a lot of them, actually.”

  “Sakes alive! I’d love to ride a train. I took the elevated once.”

  “I helped to build those, too.”

  Sam’s eyes bugged out. “You did? Gosh, you must be rich.”

  Ava closed her eyes and snapped, “Sam!”

  Will only chuckled. “Yes, I am that as well. Perhaps you could go and ride a train one day. Your brother could arrange it.”

  “I could?” Tom asked, his brows lowered in confusion.

  “Of course. Northeast employees get discounts on train fares. Ask Mrs. Pritchard to give you the information tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, sir! I’ll do that.” One would have thought Will had just handed Tom the keys to the kingdom by the way her brother’s chest puffed up. The hero worship she saw on Tom’s face worried her, not to mention the fascination worn by the other two.

  Will’s gaze traveled to the window. “Is it always this warm in here?”

  “This is cool compared to what it was an hour ago,” Sam said. “All of us’ll be sleeping on the fire escape tonight.”

  “You sleep . . . on the fire escape?” Will frowned. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

  “Only if you roll off and fall!” Tom joked.

  That only caused Will’s frown lines to deepen. “Is that a possibility?” He cast Ava a glance, and the pity she saw there caused her spine to straighten. She needed to find out why Will was here and then get rid of him.

  “Boys, Mr. Sloane does not want to hear about our problems.” She rose. “Mr. Sloane, may I speak with you in the hall?”

  “Ava, don’t be rude,” Tom said under his breath.

  “No, that’s quite all right.” Will came to his feet. “I do not want to intrude. Perhaps it’s better if I speak with your sister and let you continue your evening.”

  “You are welcome to visit anytime,” Tom said, standing. “We’d be honored, sir.”

  “Thank you, Tom. I appreciate your hospitality.”

  “What does ‘hospitality’ mean?” Sam stage-whispered to Mary.

  “The kind treatment of guests or strangers,” Ava answered. “All of you should get ready for bed. I’ll return in a few moments. Follow me, Mr. Sloane.”

  * * *

  As Will followed Ava into the hall, he cursed himself a fool. He hadn’t planned on driving to her apartment, yet heard himself give the direction to his driver. When they had pulled up, he had every intention of staying in the carriage and waiting to see if Ava went out strolling as before. Only then he’d spotted Tom on the fire escape, and Will found himself getting out of the carriage and asking if Ava was home.

  He could not control himself around this woman, apparently.

  Unfortunately, she looked anything but happy to see him. She hadn’t smiled once, her mouth pinched, as if she’d just sucked on a lemon. He, on the other hand, could hardly concentrate on anything other than her. The wisps of damp brown hair clinging to her slim neck. The rise and fall of her luscious bosom. The smudge of flour below her ear. He wanted to lick her, taste her . . . drag her off to a dark corner and have his wicked way with her.

  She closed the door behind them and moved toward the end of the hallway. The empty corridor was gloomy, the lone gas lamp throwing off a faint yellow glow to reveal peeling paper and threadbare carpet. “What are you doing here?” she hissed in a furious whisper.

  He propped a shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms. “I wanted to see you.”

  “Why?”

  “Tell me why you left the other day when I fell asleep.”

  “Shh.” Her head swiveled as if to ensure no one was listening. “I don’t want anyone finding out about that.”

  “Why not?” He knew why he needed to keep their relationship a secret, but what was she embarrassed about? She wasn’t one step away from a scandal that might ruin her chances for a political career.

  Her expression said he’d lost his mind. “Because people will get the wrong idea. They’ll believe this”—she motioned between them—“is something it is not.”

  “So what is this, then? Perhaps you could enlighten me. Did you not enjoy yourself?” A flush stole over her cheeks, a sight so rare he couldn’t help but reach out and stroke her soft skin with his fingertips. “Does that blush mean yes?”

  “You know very well that I did. But we had that one time together and that is enough.”

  His hand dropped to his side. “Enough for whom? Not me, certainly. I would very much like to know when we can have another afternoon together.”

  “Keep your voice down,” she snapped. “And we cannot have any more afternoons together. The hotel was a onetime occurrence, Will.”

  He stared down at her, trying to see a chink in the walls she’d erected around herself since the hotel room. He didn’t like what he saw. She wasn’t sniping at him or driving him mad; instead, she was . . . resigned. As if it had been decided and he did not get a vote.

  But Will had not built a fortune—along with railroads crisscrossing the United States—without learning how to get his way. He would have Ava again. Soon.

  “If you wish, Ava,” he agreed with a nod, and then changed tactics. “I like your siblings.”

  She blinked but said, “Thank you. I fear you’ve made quite the impression. No doubt they’ll pepper me with questions the instant I return.”

  “An
d what will you tell them?” He dragged a fingertip through a smudge of flour on the side of her neck.

  She slapped his hand away. “That we are friends. Only Tom would suspect otherwise, and I hope to be able to convince him this is innocent.”

  He leaned in and heard her breath hitch. Satisfaction caused his heart to pound. “If he believes that, then he is a fool. You are far too beautiful for innocent friendships with men.”

  Her eyes warmed considerably, her skin flushing once more at his compliment. “I cannot be your mistress. I just . . . cannot.”

  “If it’s the word you object to, then we need not use one. I don’t want to own you, Ava. I don’t need to have you languishing on silken sheets at my beck and call. But for God’s sake, don’t tell me I cannot bed you a second time. I cannot stop thinking about you.”

  “Will . . .”

  “Tell me you haven’t thought of me—not once in two days—and I’ll walk away. You’ll never see me again. Otherwise, we will repeat what happened the other day. You have my word.”

  She bristled, her shoulders straightening as her jaw tightened. “Your word is not law here, railroad man, not with me. Everyone else may jump to do your bidding, but I won’t.”

  “You did not answer my question. Have you thought of me? Of what happened in that hotel room?”

  “Of course I have—but that doesn’t mean I want to meet you again.”

  Images floated through his mind . . . her lying on her back. Legs spread, her naked folds glistening with desire. Head thrown back in ecstasy as he licked her cleft. The hard, puckered nipples as she rode his cock. He stepped closer, bringing his chest nearly flush with hers. “Liar.”

  She swayed toward him, the front of her breasts touching his starched shirtfront. His heart raced, desire flooding his veins. Rapid exhalations fell from her parted lips—lips that he longed to nibble and suck. He reached to clasp her hips, jerking her against the erection building in his trousers. Her hands clutched the lapels of his jacket as her lids fluttered shut. “Feel that, Ava? Feel what you do to me. I know you feel the same.”