by Layla Hagen
In the beginning, we mostly had to kill facts that leaked out, such as details about Pippa’s divorce, which leaked because of my own big mouth. But as Daniel and I became more careful, the press was fabricating stories—one in particular was a painstakingly detailed fake account of Logan making deals behind Sebastian’s back with the goal of seizing control of the company. I remember feeling sick to my stomach about the lengths to which people would go. Finding out about these things and killing them before they reach the public is a tedious and relentless job, but someone has to do it. Daniel and I are up for it. We owe Sebastian so much; this is the least we can do.
Most of the time, we didn’t even tell our eldest siblings. They had enough on their minds without having to worry about such imbecilic attempts to discredit them. Now I’m thinking that might not have been the best approach, because I don’t think Sebastian actually realizes the extent to which some people would go, and the damage they can do.
“Look,” Sebastian continues, “these types of stories hurt only as much as you allow them to. As long as you and those you care about know the truth, nothing else matters.”
Groaning, I drag a hand down my face. I can see his point, but what he doesn’t seem to realize is that if your name is dragged in the mud often enough, people start doubting you, and doubts are the hardest to fight or disprove.
Logan raises a skeptical eyebrow. “I for one would rather not read accounts of you having a double life, even if they’re fake.”
“Exactly.” Agreeing with Logan so thoroughly on a topic happens so rarely that this is almost weird.
Sebastian shakes his head, shrugging. “In that case, heads-up—it’s possible a story about me trying to take back everyone’s shares will be published next week.”
When he set up Bennett Enterprises, Sebastian gave every single one of us shares in the company—one of the many reasons I’ll owe him for the rest of my life.
“What the fuck?” Logan exclaims, mirroring my thoughts. How did I miss that?
“I want all the details,” I say at once.
Sebastian hesitates, then spills it all out, and I already make a fight plan.
“I’ll handle this,” I assure him, even though it’s a bit late in the game to kill a story.
“Blake—” Sebastian begins, but Logan puts his hand up.
“You go ahead with whatever you’re planning,” Logan tells me, interrupting him. Then he points at Sebastian with his thumb. “This one needs saving from his own too-democratic ways.”
I grin. “Consider it done.”
“By the way, since you’re here, we also wanted to talk to you about something else,” Logan says. “Clara.”
“What are your intentions with her?” they ask in unison. I choke on nothing at all, then cough up a lung. This took an unexpected turn.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I exclaim once I stop coughing. They are not. That’s the Bennett clan, versatile as ever, effortlessly jumping from planning our attack on the press to cornering me, because why not kill two birds with one stone?
“She’s practically family,” Sebastian insists. “And you two have been going at it for a while now.”
“Going at it?” I ask blankly. “Who says that? You’re getting old, Sebastian.”
Sebastian looks at me sternly. I know for a fact this is his boardroom stare, and it would intimidate a lesser man, but not me.
“Stop messing with us.” Logan’s tone is hard. I could explain it all, but hazing them is more fun. Besides, this is between Clara and me.
“Easy, Logan. I was getting used to you not riding my ass anymore. I need some time to get back in the saddle.”
Logan gives me his own boardroom stare. What is it with these two today? Did they have a drink or ten and forgot this stare has zero effect on me?
“Where do you see this going?” Sebastian insists.
“This is between Clara and me,” I placate him, flummoxed to be getting the talk from my own brothers. “My own blood cornering me. I can’t believe it.”
“Being our brother means we get to give you advice even when you don’t want it,” Sebastian says.
“Don’t feel much like a brother right now, more like a barely tolerated neighbor.”
“Look,” Sebastian interjects. “When you find a good woman, you do everything to keep her.”
“Clara’s a good woman.” That was Logan, helpful as ever.
“She’s the best woman,” I correct him. “And that’s all I’m saying on the subject.”
Logan looks as if he’d like to say more, but through some miracle, remains silent. So does Sebastian. Then they both grin.
“Our job here is done,” Logan says.
Sebastian nods. “Yeah, that’s as good a confession as any.”
I groan. Can’t believe I fell for their good cop, bad cop routine. Come to think of it, they both played bad cop today.
“Right. Next time you corner me, be good lads and make sure there’s at least beer around. Whiskey would be even better.”
“After the fallout with her boss, I assume she’s looking for a job,” Sebastian says. “We can always find a place in Bennett Enterprises for her.”
I shake my head, telling them both about her possible career in illustrating children’s books. She applied for the position Charlie told her about and is waiting to hear from them.
“You’ve made it clear to this Charlie that not hiring Clara isn’t an option, right?” Logan asks. I grin. Clara explicitly asked me not to interfere because she wants to receive the job only if she’s good enough. Logan usually tries to solve everyone’s problems even when they don’t want his help, which got him in hot water with Nadine before they were married.
Privately, I agree with his mode of operation, but I already pushed my luck by arranging the meeting with Charlie in the first place, and I also empathize with her desire to succeed on her own.
“When you get between a woman and her independent ways, prepare for a tsunami-sized blowout. I learn from other people’s mistakes.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll make your own,” Logan deadpans. Sebastian chuckles.
“Take that back.” I point a finger at him. “Your words have the nasty habit of being prophetic.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Clara
Straight or undulating?
After blinking hard several times, I shake my head, then decide to call it a night. You know you’ve been working on an illustration too long when you can’t even tell if a line you drew is straight or undulating.
Stretching, I tilt my head to the left and to the right, attempting to dislodge the stiffness in my neck. No such luck. I’ll need a hot bath for this, using my favorite bath bomb—vanilla and lavender. I barely form that thought when there is a knock at the front door.
“It’s me,” Blake’s voice states, sounding surprisingly down.
“Come on in.”
I wasn’t expecting him for another hour or so. He said he’s on family duty today, but he didn’t give me details—and I’ll admit being a little jealous for not being part of whatever he was up to.
The second he steps inside, I know something must have gone south. Defeat and disappointment are written all over him, from his battered expression to his hunched shoulders. Wordlessly, he slumps on the couch, tilting his head on the headrest, closing his eyes and pressing the heels of his palms against them.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, scrambling to put together a plan to cheer him up. It’ll have to be a great one. My usual shenanigans will not suffice. Tentatively, I sit on the couch, trying to assess how to best help him, to understand what he needs so I can give him just that. I wish he would look at me, but he’s still in the time-out position, eyes closed. Finally, he looks at me.
“Read any news today?”
“No, was too lost in my illustrations. What happened?”
Blake pulls out his smartphone, taps it twice, then hands it to me.
Bennett En
terprises: Will greed disintegrate the empire?
I read the entire article, which claims to have insider info that Sebastian is trying to take control over all shares. By the time I finish it, I feel cold.
“I don’t understand.”
“Remember I told you a lot of people are like Quentin and that idiot from We See You? Well, these are some of those people.”
“But this article is a lie,” I exclaim.
“Yeah, the press has a way of inventing dirt when they don’t find any. That’s what Shepperd was going to do on We See You.”
I wince. “What?”
“Did some digging after you quit because I suspected he wouldn’t give up just because he didn’t have a story. He was planning to make up one.”
“Was?”
He smiles a little. “Let’s just say he and Quentin are no longer a threat. Actually, they no longer have a job, but that’s another story.”
“What did you do?”
“I’ve got my secrets.”
Clearly, because I would never have pegged Blake for one to employ mafioso tactics, but then Quentin and Shepperd deserve whatever they got.
“This is what you meant when you said you fight your family’s fights,” I say in amazement. I find the family dynamics fascinating. The older ones protect the young ones, but the reverse is also true, so it all comes full circle.
“Yeah, but I didn’t do that for them. I did it for you.”
A knot lodges in my throat. “For me?”
He nods, and I suddenly become a bit misty-eyed. Pointing to the phone, I ask, “What about this?”
“I met with Sebastian and Logan last week to give them heads-up about Shepperd, and Sebastian said he’d caught wind that this would come out.” He points to his phone. “I pulled all the strings to keep it from being published, but I couldn’t stop it, damn it.”
“I’m so sorry. How is Sebastian taking this?”
“He doesn’t care at all what is being written about him. Says as long as the people he cares about know the truth, nothing else matters.”
“That’s a great approach.”
I inspect Blake, trying to gauge exactly what’s upsetting him, especially since Sebastian himself isn’t bothered.
My people-reading skills aren’t worth jack shit, but he has something on his mind. Since I can’t guess, I’m gonna need words. Tucking my feet underneath me, I inch closer to him, then stand higher on my knees, facing him.
“Talk to me, Blake. What is eating away at you? Don’t keep me out.” The five-o’clock shadow grazes my lips as I kiss down his jaw, then back up on his cheek. I want to be helpful to him, but I can’t do it if he doesn’t open up. I want him to know that it’s safe to show me his vulnerable side too, that he doesn’t have to always be in his fun or strong or seductive mode for me. I nibble at his earlobe, then trace a straight line down his neck. A low grunt reverberates in his throat. I pull away, looking him straight in the eyes.
“Tell me, Blake,” I beckon.
“I don’t like letting my family down.”
Ah, so this is the crux of the issue.
“You didn’t,” I say gently. “You gave your best, but sometimes even our best can’t change the course of things.” And then the real crux of the issue hits me. “You let yourself down, am I right?”
Surprise flickers in his eyes, but he nods. I place one hand on his chest without saying anything. I need to choose my words carefully.
“You’re a good man, Blake. You’re a great man. But some failure is inevitable, even when you have the best intentions.”
His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. It might not be noticeable to anyone else, but I’ve learned him intimately enough to pick up subtle changes. I hit a nerve with my failure comment. I think back on the day he introduced me to Charlie, how terrified I was of failure too. Blake’s reassurance that he’ll be next to me no matter what was exactly what I needed. It strikes me that on some level everyone needs this, reassurance that even if we fail and we’re stripped bare of our successes, the person at our side will still respect us, love us.
“And I want you to know that you don’t have to always be in a fun, strong, or seductive mode for me. It’s safe to show me your vulnerable side too.” I drop my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I promise I won’t tell. You’re my knight even when your armor’s pierced.”
“Yeah?”
He peppers kisses up and down my neck, nipping at my skin. Lowering his hands to my ass, he pulls me closer to him until our groins touch.
“I need you, Clara.”
“I’m yours. Whatever you need.”
My pulse skitters as Blake kisses me. He does nothing else except kiss me, and yet desire pools between my legs. Then he leads me to the bedroom, pushes me on my back on the bed, lying next to me. In the light streaming from above, I have a clear view of the desire etched on his features. He pushes down my skirt, and I make quick work of undoing the buttons of my blouse. Thong and bra go next, and then I’m naked in front of him.
Discarding his clothes, he pulls out a condom, gloving up. I am turned on just from watching him. Won’t volunteer the fact out loud, but the man would make an excellent stripper.
I’m reminded of a feline on the prowl, shoulders moving in a rippling pattern as he moves on the bed. His eyes lock on my center.
“Beautiful, you’re so ready for me, and I haven’t even touched you.”
Licking my lips, I part my legs wider. He moves between them.
“Put your hands under your knees. Lift your legs.”
Heat trickles down my inner thighs at his command. Oh my. Lying on my back, I place my fingers behind my knees, lifting one leg, then the other.
He settles between my open legs, my calves rubbing against his granite forearms. A shudder courses through me when he slides his crown up and down my folds, coating himself in my arousal. He pushes in, just an inch, and it’s like he lights a fire inside me.
“Pull your legs closer up.”
He slides in at the same time I move my legs, and—
OhGod OhGod OhGod...The angle changes the closer I bring my thighs to my torso, and the deeper I take him in.
When he’s inside me to the base, his balls slap along the crack between my ass cheeks, making my legs quiver. Pleasure strums through me, sharp and unexpected.
“You like this, Clara?”
“I love it. Please move.”
Since my legs are suspended, I can’t move myself, or I’d be rocking against him. He smiles wickedly, and I realize how completely he owns me right now. My pleasure is all in his power. Slowly, he rocks in and out, and I moan in relief.
Keeping his hands at the base of my inner thighs, Blake loves me deeper and more urgently by the second. Each time I think my bliss can’t ratchet any higher, he proves me wrong. I feel on display more than physically right now. No one’s ever known me the way Blake does: intimately, sentimentally, in all ways. When an unbearable pressure takes hold of my lower body, I need to touch my clit more than I need my next breath. I let go of one leg—
“Don’t move your hands.”
“Then touch my clit, please. Blake, I need this so badly,” I pant, the force of his thrusts no longer bringing me pleasure, but more intense longing. I desperately crave my release. Blake brings one hand to twist one nipple lightly, then the other. My breasts move with each thrust, and as a drop of sweat from his forehead lands above my navel, he lowers his hand to my clit. I spoke too soon—
He circles his thumb around my clit. Oh, God no. I can’t take more build-up. Every breath comes out shaky. My entire body quivers.
“I need to come Blake, please.”
“I like hearing you beg.”
He strokes directly over my clit once, and I erupt. Blake leans over me, covering my mouth with his, intertwining his fingers with mine. I come so hard I nearly fade out, but I cling to this moment for dear life because I don’t want to miss even one second of this incredible closeness,
and I want to watch Blake come. As he pulls away from my mouth, his handsome face contorts with pleasure, a blue vein bulging along his throat. I press my heels against his ass on every thrust.
When I feel him widen inside me, I push myself up a tad, kissing him, muffling the sound of his climax like he did to me seconds ago, keeping my eyes open and soaking in all the goodness of this moment.
After he removes the condom and we clean ourselves, we lie in bed on our sides, watching each other.
He grips my right hip in that deliciously possessive way of his. “I needed you so badly: your voice, your warmth... and that’s so new to me. You make everything right. Thank you for being here for me tonight.”
“I’ll be here for as long as you want me to. Let me be your anchor tonight, Blake.”
Blake makes a rushed sound, like a sharp intake of breath. He locks his gaze on mine, his fingers pressing into my flesh a notch deeper.
“What if I want you to be my anchor for more than tonight?”
My pulse speeds up, my chest filling with warmth, and hope floods me. Hope for so many things: a life together, going to bed next to him every night, waking up with him still by my side. Raising a family together—maybe one as numerous as his own. Damn, what’s wrong with me? The man is not proposing. But he is putting himself out there, giving me a piece of himself he was holding back.
“Anytime you need me to be.” My voice catches at the end, and I bite down on my lip as I make the decision to go out on a limb, even further than he went. It feels like I’m putting my heart on a platter and handing it to him, like I’m giving him complete power over me. But I feel brave, and I think he needs to hear it.
“I am going to tell you something, and I don’t expect you to say it back. I don’t have any expectations at all, but I want you to know. I love you, Blake. Truly and deeply, and these feelings I’m having...they won’t go away. I know we agreed on “no labels”, so....”
He gently cups the side of my face, his thumb tracing my lips, as if he can barely believe the words that came out. He opens his mouth but I cover it with my hand. I don’t want him to feel pressured, or to think this is an ultimatum of some sort.
