Eastern Ambitions: Compass Brothers, Book 3

by Mari Carr

  A chorus of “Love you too” echoed through the state-of-the-art conference equipment in Sam’s high-rise office. He steepled his fingers and waited.

  The snick of a door closing bounced off his glass desktop and the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Manhattan skyline before Silas announced, “Okay, she’s out.”

  “How much of that did she hear?” Sawyer adjusted his uniform. He must be on a dinner break. It was nearly quitting time for Sam despite his ridiculous hours. If it weren’t for his ten o’clock dinner with Belinda, he might have stayed past midnight again.

  The promise of some extra-sweet dessert, assuming he could negotiate the merger he’d been considering for a while, lured him from his workaholic tendencies.

  “Obviously I missed a good story.” Si let Sawyer off the hook. “Nothing but the last few words came across. You’re clear.”

  “Holy shit, I almost had a heart attack.” Sawyer clutched his chest. Served him right for gloating.

  “You know, her and JD aren’t exactly prudes.” Seth—kicked back in jeans and no shirt with a beer in hand after a long hard day—supplied some dirt. “I heard from Jim Spade they tore it up back in the day. Plus, remember the time Sam walked in on them in the kitchen?”

  “Gross. I could have gone my whole life without thinking about that again, fuckwad.” Sam adjusted the sleeves of his Burberry shirt to keep them from wrinkling any worse. At least his suit coat hung neatly from the rack in the corner. He focused on a vision of Belinda in the slinky designer dress she’d promised to debut for him later to erase the lingering horror of JD and Vicky’s overwhelming passion. If they weren’t his parents, he’d have been impressed.

  Ack.

  Belinda. Dress. Décolletage. Sexy legs. Superior intelligence. Future material.

  That’s better.

  “Moving on…” Seth grinned for Silas. “How the hell are you, bro? You look surly as ever. The mountain man beard is a nice touch.”

  Jesus, he wasn’t kidding. That thing would frighten a grizzly. Hell, maybe it had. Si had worked some rough places. The escalating danger his brother faced had given Sam more than one nightmare, not that he’d admit it now that Si was safe at Compass Ranch.

  “Better today than yesterday.” Silas seemed to note the real concern beneath the teasing. As the oldest brother, he’d always been the one to look after them, not the other way around. “Can’t wait to get out of this bed. Maybe take Rainey for a ride.”

  Sam couldn’t believe their father had taken care of their horses all this time. The high-quality animals would have brought him a neat profit if he’d auctioned them off. JD never let go. Some part of Sam was glad. He would love the wind in his face as he moved in sync with Dee, flying over the terrain they’d learned together a lifetime ago. If only he could scrounge some time.

  “Why not stay there? Give Lucy a go, instead. Hell of a lot more fun than a middle-aged horse.” Sawyer broke the tension, wringing a laugh from Sam. No one else joined in. “Oh, fuck. Too soon?”

  “Moron.” Seth shook his head.

  Silas growled. “Don’t talk about her like that. She’s married.”

  Sam had to try really hard not to roll his eyes since it wouldn’t be becoming of the Director of Commodity Trading at Smith, Winfield and Gandle.

  “To a man who wants you just as bad as she does.” Sawyer didn’t zip his mouth despite a glare from Seth. Good for him. Tell it like it is, Saw. “How long are we gonna pretend we don’t notice them begging for scraps of information from us? How many times are we gonna let Silas fuck things up? One of these days it’ll be too late. If I had that kind of love in my life, I sure as shit wouldn’t waste it.”

  Identical twins, identical logic—at least this time. Sam understood where Sawyer was coming from. Lucy and Colby had made something together. Something pretty fucking great by all accounts. Colby had flourished as the ranch’s foreman, and Lucy had a waiting list of clients a mile long for her nursing practice focused on homebound patients. And yet, anyone who knew them well could tell something was missing. Someone gimping around Wyoming with one good leg and a hell of a lot of apologizing to do.

  “It doesn’t freak you guys out? The whole Colby thing?” Silas had never talked directly with them about his bisexuality, though Sam and Sawyer had often speculated about their brother’s relationship with his best friends. How could they not? No one kept the flame alive as long as Lucy had without a deeper connection than surviving sloppy-joe day in the high school cafeteria or suffering through four years of Spanish together.

  On top of that, both Sam and Sawyer had picked up some decidedly non-platonic vibes from Silas’s last roommate, Red. Damn, when they’d heard the man had died in the accident that’d injured his brother, things had really sunk in. So close…

  Sam debated how best to express his acceptance when Seth beat him to it. “I don’t care to know the play by play, but who you fuck is your business.”

  Sawyer and Seth both nodded in agreement.

  “If I can stand to listen to Sawyer go on about his whips and chains, I think I can handle you getting moony over a guy we all respect.”

  Sam grinned at that. Who said moony anymore, anyway? Only Seth with his good-ole-boy charm could pull it off and not sound like a total tool.

  “I think it’s kind of hot.” Sawyer shrugged. They all knew of his penchant for BDSM. Power games appealed to their youngest brother. “Not my thing exactly, but I can see how having another guy submit would be a turn-on.”

  Sam choked. He hadn’t imagined things to the same level of X-rated detail as Saw obviously had.

  “Don’t act like you’ve never shared a woman with another dude, Sam. I know you have. And you liked it.”

  That might have been the understatement of the century.

  “Sawyer—” When would the little fucker learn that sometimes secrets were secrets? Even from their older brothers. What would the guys say if they found out about the dirty habits he’d picked up from frat parties at Columbia? Or refined at the ultra-elite fetish clubs he’d frequented since then?

  He hoped they’d understand.

  Besides, his brothers were one thing. Referring to orgies while he sat here, in his immaculate office, was another. Thank God those establishments had excessive privacy policies. He refused to jeopardize his standing at S, W & G to indulge his darker urges. Too many people were judgmental of things they didn’t understand. And few would approve of his need to share and show off.

  “No, the kid’s right.” Silas cut into Sam’s drifting thoughts. He shrugged when all three of his brothers stared, speechless. “I’ve done a lot of thinking lately. More today.”

  He grabbed a handful of crumpled envelopes and let them rain around him. “I’m not going to hide who I am anymore.”

  “You read her letters.” Sam had to scale down the brightness on the screen. His eyes bulged as he scoured the image of Silas’s surroundings.

  “Holy shit.” Seth dropped his feet off his desk, leaning closer to his monitor for a better look at the background. “They’re everywhere.”

  “What was in them?” Sawyer had always been curious. He’d often mentioned the letters to Sam. “I can’t tell you how many Christmases, Thanksgivings and nights I spent on leave I’d see little Lucy huddled with a pad and a pen, writing away like mad. She never let me peek, though. What did she tell you?”

  “Everything.” Silas grimaced when his voice cracked a bit. “It’s the best gift I could have imagined. A time machine. Every bit of the ten years I missed, it’s all here. There were even some pictures.”

  He held up a few snapshots for his brothers to check out.

  “Ohhh, did she include good bits too?” Sam had always thought his oldest brother’s friend was smoking. Beneath the goody-two-shoes exterior there lurked a naughty girl. He’d wager his whole pile of Google stock on it. Even the shares he’d picked up in his freshman year at Columbia from the IPO. He wiggled his brows. “Nasty stuff?”
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  Silas chose not to indulge Sam’s prying. He didn’t deny it either.

  “Damn! She did write about that stuff. Look at his face.”

  Before Silas could tell them to fuck off, a distraction took the heat from his revelation.

  A sassy voice called out from somewhere, “Tell your brothers it’s not nice to kiss and tell. Well, I suppose this Lucy did but sharing a note with a lover is different than tossing those fantasies to a pack of rabid, ungrateful, fickle cowboys.”

  “Who the hell was that?” Sawyer jumped at the rebuke.

  “Only the cowgirl your fucking asshole brother is keeping prisoner in this god forsaken shack. Will someone please call 911?”

  Seth grinned into the camera before tossing over his shoulder, “Don’t make me gag you, darlin’.”

  “Holy shit.” Sam scooted his chair so tight to his desk the arms wedged beneath the surface, caging him in. Could it be? “What is that in the background? Do I see pretty ankles tied to the end of your bed, Seth?”

  “I’m Jody Kirkland. My dad is your brother’s boss. He’ll probably also be the man to murder this piece of shit, arrogant, limp dick when he finds out what he’s up to.”

  “I’ll give you arrogant, but I’m guessing Seth’s anything but a limp dick right now, honey.” Sam braved his brother’s wrath because just looking at those red-tipped toes had him shifting his cock to make room in his slacks. Life with these three around would never be boring. God, how he missed spending time with them.

  “Argh! You’re all alike. I can’t believe there are really four of you. Thank God you spread yourselves out. No state should have to house that many Compass Brothers. Especially if you’re all as dense as Seth.”

  “I like this girl.” Sawyer met Sam’s eyes through the fiber optics and miles between them. They laughed together.

  “So you’re calling the police?” Legs thrashed at the corner of the mattress.

  “I don’t think my mom would appreciate Seth missing out on the next ten Christmases because he’s in jail.” Sawyer winked at his brothers. “Sorry, honey. You know, I bet he could help you make the most of the situation.”

  “You’re all bastards. Every one of you asshats.”

  She might have been right. Sam had thought a lot lately about his future. With the VP position within reach and a woman he got more serious about every day, he wondered what it would be like to build a life only to have his someday children wash their hands of it all—thumb their noses at his hard work. Maybe he’d make a point of visiting Compass Ranch.

  Sometime.

  After this next presentation.

  And the one after that. And—

  “Jody. Give me two minutes. Then we’ll talk, okay?” Seth’s exasperated groan spoke volumes. Maybe more than one Compton had found their mate. Who else could drive them this nuts? “Look, Si. I swear I thought I’d crapped my pants when they told me you’d almost gotten blown up. So I’m going to say this flat out. I know you’re still on the mend but ignoring what Lucy and Colby are offering would be ridiculous.”

  Sam agreed. The golden chance at happiness was valuable beyond price. Something he didn’t say often. As he neared the pinnacle, his dreams started to seem a little less lofty. Money, power, work… All they seemed to lead to was more responsibility. Loosening his tie, he debated reaching for the jumbo bottle of Tums in his bottom drawer. Lately…

  He shook his head. No, he’d gunned for this for years. Tonight he’d relax with Belinda and regroup. He had to focus now more than ever. If he was tired, who could blame him?

  “Says the man talking to his brothers instead of playing with the sexy woman tied to his bed about to escape.” Silas cracked a full-on smile, something Sam hadn’t seen in at least a decade.

  He whipped his stare to Seth’s quadrant on the large screen he used for international meetings. That was one scrumptious cowgirl. He felt fifteen again when he and his twin bombarded the line with whistles and catcalls.

  “What!” Seth spun in his chair. When he spotted Jody—naked, in the camera’s line of sight as she undid the last of the knots—the sight spurred him to action. He snagged a blanket off the foot of the bed, then wrapped it around her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Leaving, moron!” The filly thrashed in Seth’s embrace until his brother hefted her over his shoulder, bundled in the blanket. Damn him for ruining the view.

  “Okay, as fun as this is, I have to be on deck in five minutes.” Sawyer grimaced. “Someone better fill me in later.”

  “No, there will be no filling in!” Seth marched to the camera, blocking it with his palm. “I have to go, Si. We’ll talk more. Soon.”

  His connection terminated with a generic beep, leaving Sam and Silas alone on the line. They looked at each other and laughed.

  “Almost time for me to hit the city, bro.” Sam stretched, taking his suit coat from the hanger behind him. He’d chosen the navy blue because Belinda always seemed to purr when she saw him filling out its tailored lines. His gaze zipped past the bustle on the streets below him. Somehow the lights in the background didn’t captivate him as they had the first time he’d stared into the sea of fallen stars.

  “Hot date?”

  “Sort of. Been spending some time with a girl I work with,” he hedged. For some reason he hadn’t shared Belinda with his brothers. Maybe because he’d always insisted on deflecting passes made by co-workers before. Another clue she was different. Special. “I think she’s worth the risk.”

  “Trust your gut, Sam. I should have done the same a long time ago.” His brother nodded. “If you’re wrong, at least you’ll know you tried.”

  Sam smiled. “I’m glad you’re home. Safe.”

  “When are you coming to visit? It’s not the same without you three around to piss me off.”

  “Too hard to fit in a trip. I’m up for VP, Si.” Though he’d thought the same not five minutes before, he hated saying it aloud. How could he make Silas understand how close he was to achieving everything he’d slaved for? “I’d be the youngest in the history of the company.”

  “We all have our dreams, Sam.” Silas wouldn’t begrudge his brother a shot at his. “Good luck.”

  “You too.” Sam smiled. “I think you’re going to need it.”

  Chapter Two

  Five days later, Sam tossed the keys to his Maserati Gran Turismo S to the valet. Driving in the city could be a bitch. Sliding behind the wheel of that sexy beast made it all worthwhile.

  It would take more than epic traffic to irritate him after the progress he’d made this week. Usually standoffish, Belinda had encouraged him to share more of each evening with her. Time well spent. The refreshment had cleared his mind as she’d promised it would. Enough to convince him of the good sense in her suggestion to wrap his project before the last dinner reservation so they could blow off some steam together.

  Though he’d struck out the night of his call with his brothers, and all week since, something in her naughty wink had given him hope. If it meant what he thought, he’d be relaxed enough to deliver the pitch of a lifetime tomorrow morning. His research was in the bag. Showing it off was the only step left.

  “Should I leave it out front, sir?” The title from someone at least a dozen years older sat funny with Sam. What kind of assholes must the valet deal with every day? Rich bastards who assumed a man who worked for his living would be incompetent at his job.

  “Nah. I trust you.” He flipped a generous tip into the man’s palm. “Do me a favor. Have some fun when you take her to the garage. She likes her legs stretched a bit now and then.”

  “Will do, sir.” The man flashed a genuine smile that burned away the polite facsimile he’d sported flawlessly before. “Enjoy your meal.”

  “You bet I will.” Sam wished he’d worn a hat to dip in the man’s direction. Some habits died hard, not that he’d give in to the urge to sport a Stetson in public. Bad enough his accent had made a comeback lately. He’d
practiced long and hard to eradicate the drawl from his pronunciations during that first interminable winter far from home.

  With success came a measure of security. Less to prove meant he could relax his guard, at least a little. And that’s when the flavor of Wyoming snuck in again. Oh, well. The partners had taken to calling him The Cowboy Trader. He sort of liked it, not that he’d admit it considering Belinda’s instant repulsion to the unrespectable nickname.

  What would she think of his tattoo? Hopefully he’d find out tonight. Why else would she have suggested they take time off at the very peak of the crunch? Only one person worked harder, suffering longer hours than he did, in their office. Belinda.

  You have your presentation up here, Sam. She’d perched on the arm of his ridiculously expensive office chair to run her fingers through his hair. Christ, it’d given him daydreams of laying her out on his desk and damn the floor to ceiling windows. A major breakthrough. She never touched him at work. Careful, cautious, proper—Belinda paid close attention to the image she presented in the male-dominated arena.

  What would she be like in bed? Maybe she’d turn wild and release the hint of bad girl he’d sensed lurking inside her conservative shell like the delicious, gooey center of a strawberry candy. The artwork inked on his back could turn her on. Or maybe it’d be best to leave the lights down low and save that surprise for another time.

  He smiled and checked his close-cropped hair in the reflection on the sparkling clean door before one of the staff tugged on the gleaming gold handle with his white-gloved hand. It opened smoothly, perfectly quiet. So different from the creaky hinge on the back porch of the ranch house. JD had always said leaving it noisy served him better. No one snuck in or out of their domain. With four teenaged boys, going stingy with the oil had probably been the right approach.

  Heaven help you if you slammed the storm door, though. Vicky would go ballistic. He was still thinking of ancient history when yet another member of the high-performing team of restaurateurs led him to the best table—cozy, private and dashed with just enough candlelight to be romantic while preserving some shadows—in the exclusive prime steakhouse.