Knave (Masters of Manhattan)

by Jane Henry

  “Yeah, wait a minute,” I said. “Seriously, you are not going to fuck up my biggest client, Anson.”

  He shook his head and smirked at me. “No, babe. Not fucking anything up.” Then he sobered. “You want to find out who killed your father?”

  Fire burned a hole in my gut and for a split second, time stood still before I nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

  His eyes bored into mine. “Time to plan tonight’s menu.”

  “For God’s sake, have you ever held a knife?” Anson held the knife so clumsily, I cringed. I was pleasantly surprised to find a decent set of knives in their kitchen and was planning on putting them to good use until Anson nabbed one. “Forget it! You’re not filleting the chicken, okay? Go peel the carrots, and remember to just keep your head down and look busy. Can you at least peel the potatoes? Christ,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Watch it, princess,” he growled. “Behave yourself. Doing the best I can here. If you weren’t holding a knife that looks sharp enough to cut my balls off, I’d smack your ass.”

  “Xavier would like that,” I muttered, still stung from Xavier’s earlier mockery.

  “Don’t pay any attention to him. Dude needs to get laid,” Anson said.

  I snorted. No kidding.

  I covered up my pleasure at Anson’s kindness with a biting remark. I couldn’t let him see that he affected me. “Well, I don’t like the idea of you fucking up my business. So just watch what you’re doing.”

  “For God’s sake, chill, will you? Got a sailor’s mouth on you.”

  “You’re no angel.”

  Everyone had left us alone. Caelan, Ethan, and Walker went to grocery shop to get what we’d need to bring to Pederson’s, and Xavier had a meeting with some client over lunch. Supposedly, the men had clientele who helped them maintain the facade of tech consultants, and Xavier was the one who landed the top-paying customers. Things started to click into place… a little, anyway.

  “So you want to julienne the carrots, and do it in uniform shapes so they cook evenly.”

  “Julienne?” he mocked in a truly horrid French accent. “Filet? En Francais? Babe, the only phrase I know in French is ménage à trois, and sadly, you’ve already fucked up any chance we had at that.”

  I covered up my laugh with a cough. I wouldn’t let him know he amused me. We had shit to do.

  “I’m not your babe, and are you listening to me at all? Are you going to be able to handle this or not, Anson? Honest to God!” I turned back to my cutting board and demonstrated once more. “You cut on the diagonal. Same sizes. One at a time, like this.”

  He stood next to me, arms crossed, watching me. I looked briefly up at him. Damn, he was cute, the jerk. He rose one brow, nodding as I chopped. “One at a time, huh? Can’t have a knife in both hands?”

  I rolled my eyes as I realized how stupid that last instruction sounded. “Do you take anything seriously?”

  He sobered, then, uncrossed his arms, and walked over to me. “Yeah, Sabrina. I do. Getting the info we need from Pederson’s? I take way fucking seriously. Uniform dicing of some shit vegetable? Not so much.”

  I slammed down my knife in frustration. “But if you’re going to pretend to work with me, you need to at least be able to pretend. For God’s sake, are you gonna go in there, stand in the kitchen sharpening knives, and then wait until Pederson’s on his fourth glass of sherry or whatever-the-fuck, and sidle into his office and magically find stuff?”

  He tipped his head to the side. “Maybe. Well, since you said there’s a Mrs. Pederson, I might be able to play that angle by flirting—”

  And for some reason, that pushed me over the edge. The idea of him flirting with the vapid, pretentious woman Pederson was married to…

  “Fuck you,” I hissed. “You know what? You’re not coming with me. Screw you and your juvenile ways. I’m going alone. I don’t want a fucking escort. I’ll do my job, and you figure out a way to do yours. And unlike some people I know, I won’t be plotting against you and trying to undermine your job. Deal?”

  I turned back around, biting back tears that were threatening to spill.

  “Sabrina.” His voice was mollifying, as if he wanted to soothe my anger. Why? All he’d done was his damnedest to stoke it.

  “Leave me alone,” I spat out. To my shock, my voice wavered, and my nose tingled. I would not let him make me cry.

  He tried once more. “Babe.”

  “I’m not your babe,” I repeated through gritted teeth. I reached for the potatoes, grabbed a peeler and a bowl, and started peeling. “This was the stupidest idea anyone ever had. You make a total mockery of my work.”

  “Stop being so damn uptight.”

  I spun around. “Uptight? You’re not taking this seriously! You’re joking around about flirting with Mrs. Pederson to get what you need? The woman irons her money, Anson. I’ve seen her do it. She has me cut her vegetables and chicken before I serve it to her like she’s a fucking two-year-old, and won’t eat anything with butter on it, or anything above 7.9 net carbs per meal. She’s maybe thirty years younger than Pederson and doesn’t even try to sheath her gold-digging manicured claws, but Pederson pampers her like a spoiled princess. Maybe she gives good blow jobs, I don’t know, but you think it’s something to joke around about, flirting with her? Like my job isn’t real or something?”

  His eyes widened. “You’re jealous.”

  “What?” I sputtered. “I’m not jealous. I’m pissed. You don’t take my career seriously, like somehow scaling the sides of building like you have a fucking superhero complex is superior.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “So jealous. I think I actually see a little green tinge right behind your ear there—”

  I’d had it. I shoved my hands on his shoulders, making him stumble backward. I wanted to hurt him. He looked at me in shock then stood straight, and I reared my hand back to slap him. I’d never slapped a man, but I could almost feel the satisfying sting of my hand connecting with his stubbled jaw. I didn’t get the chance, though. Before I knew what was happening, he’d nabbed my wrist and held my hand in place.

  “Oh no, sweetheart,” he warned, his eyes kindling. “You really don’t want to do that. You smack me, and then I will have to take you across my knee, and wouldn’t that just burn Xavier’s butter?” My heart thundered at his words, anger and uncontrollable arousal and frustration making me want to scream. He backpedaled me, still holding my wrist, and when my back hit the countertop, his strong hands pinned both my wrists to my sides. My chest rose and fell with the breaths I took, my need for him shocking me.

  Shit, I liked it when he took control.

  He was so close, his breath grazed my cheek as his eyes met mine and he whispered, “It’s okay to be jealous. When Caelan made you breakfast this morning, I wanted to beat his hospitable ass.” I blinked. What? But before I could process what he’d said, his mouth crashed down on mine, and my world turned upside down. I closed my eyes, moaning into his mouth as my knees buckled, but he held me up, knifing his leg gently between my thighs, supporting my body against his. His lips melded with mine, my breath mingling with his, my body electric at his touch. As he kissed me, my sex pulsed, pressure building between my thighs. I wanted his hand, his cock, his mouth there. I needed more.

  He released one wrist only to bring his hand to the nape of my neck and squeeze, the possessive grip making me whimper. I’d never been kissed like this. Impossible power and energy and beauty entwined, as if the sun rose and set at once, my senses electrified. He could have asked me anything in that moment, and I’d have done it, bewitched by the power of that kiss.

  It was the sound of the key at the door, signaling that the others had returned, that broke the spell. He pulled away the second I did, and I spun to turn back to the counter. I didn’t want them to see my swollen lips, the heat on my cheeks, the guilt in my eyes. I julienned carrots as if my life depended on it, and miraculously, Anson suddenly knew how to peel potatoes.
<
br />   Caelan came into the kitchen with large grocery bags, followed by Ethan and Walker. They filled me in on what they’d acquired, and I somehow managed to pull my shit together and instruct Anson to load the cooler bags as I put the finishing touches on the demo dinner the rest of the men would eat in our absence.

  I had to get my shit together.

  The sweet taste of revenge depended on it.

  Five

  “You’re telling me the dude lives in a building with two five-star restaurants on the ground floor, plus at least three others within a two-minute walk, and he still needs a private chef to come and cook his din-din?” I looked at my reflection in the mirrored elevator door and pulled at the collar of the double-breasted black chef jacket Sabrina had found me. The damn thing was tight as hell, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, at least not on short notice.

  Sabrina smirked at me in the mirror, and I noted that she somehow managed to make her own getup—a fitted, charcoal gray coat in the same style as mine—look sexy. “What part of the Pedersons being picky did you not comprehend?”

  “The part where he has five other restaurants where he can eat. I mean, I’m sure you’re a good chef and all. I mean, you can julienne the fuck out of some carrots.” She snorted. “But what’s the point of living in a swanky building like this one if you aren’t going to use the amenities?”

  She shrugged. “You’ve lived in the penthouse for a while, right? There are rich people who’ve had money for generations and don’t need to prove themselves to anyone, and then there are wannabe rich people. The Pedersons, especially Emma Pederson, are definitely in the second camp.”

  “Nouveau riche, you mean?” I figured I knew as much about rich people as anyone, having grown up in their shadows back when my mom used to work for them.

  She smiled. “And here I thought you didn’t know any French.”

  I snorted. “Still don’t get what that has to do with not using the shit you pay for, though.”

  “It’s more like an attitude. When you feel like you don’t belong in a situation, you need to overcompensate. Prove that you’re too refined to eat at the restaurants downstairs with the rest of the unwashed millionaire masses.” She turned and gave me a wink as the doors opened.

  I felt my lips twitch. She was hilarious.

  She was also sexy as hell. I watched her push her little rolling metal cart laden with groceries down the hall, her hips encased in some tight black pants that did nothing to conceal her heart-shaped ass.

  “You coming to help me cook, sous chef?” she called without turning around. “Or are you gonna watch my ass all night?”

  Both. Preferably both.

  “Right behind you,” I told her, stepping out of the elevator as she knocked on the sleek black door.

  “Evening, Gwendolyn!” Sabrina said breezily.

  “Miss Sabrina.” The matronly, gray-haired woman returned Sabrina’s smile with a pinch-faced look. She caught sight of me and scowled, folding her arms over her enormous chest. “Who’s this?”

  I pulled out my most charming smile and opened my mouth to speak, but Sabrina cut me off.

  “This is Sonny. He’s my unofficial new sous chef,” she said. “He’s mostly helping me with the shopping and carrying. That sort of thing.”

  Sonny?

  “Did you clear this with Mrs. Pederson?” Gwendolyn asked fretfully, pursing her lips. “You’ve always worked alone. You know she insists on background checks…”

  Background checks? I fought the urge to narrow my eyes at Sabrina, who hadn’t divulged any of this information at all. Clearly someone needed to be taught the meaning of being a team player.

  By me.

  With my belt.

  “Oh, I didn’t even consider it,” Sabrina said apologetically. “I figured Mr. Pederson would be at work still, and Mrs. Pederson would be at one of her meetings, and no one would really have to know.” She hesitated for a second. “It’s just that things have been so hard since my father died. Overwhelming, really. And it’s so much easier to deal with things when Sonny is with me.”

  Gwendolyn blinked, and her face softened instantly, from battle-ax to kindly grandmother. “Oh, sweetheart. I wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry about your father. He was always such a gentleman, and I heard Mr. and Mrs. Pederson talking about what went on.” She shook her head and made a little noise in her throat. “Killed by one of the other inmates. It’s just terrible.”

  “It is.” Sabrina summoned a sad smile. “But thank you.”

  “Are the authorities any closer to finding out who did it?”

  Sabrina’s eyes went hard. “I haven’t heard anything officially. But I’m extremely confident that whoever did it will get justice.” I felt a twinge of pride at her confidence.

  Gwendolyn pursed her lips at me, but her eyes were still soft. “It’s nice of you to help your girl, at least.”

  “It’s the least I can do,” I told her earnestly, hoping I was playing my part correctly. “Sabrina is special, and she deserves all the support she can get.”

  “Well, you’re right about that,” she told me. And now, her smile was genuine. “Be careful though,” she told Sabrina. After a brief glance over her shoulder to ensure no one else was around, she added in a conspiratorial whisper, “They’re both home this afternoon, so for all our sakes, keep him in the kitchen until Mr. Pederson leaves for his meeting and she leaves for hot yoga. She’s been in a mood all day, nagging at Mr. Pederson something terrible. Last thing we need around here is to set her off again.”

  Fuck. Both Pedersons were home. I met Sabrina’s eyes briefly. We’d have to wait for them to leave, or else create some kind of diversion. This was why I hated going into a situation without proper reconnaissance, but we didn’t have the manpower to have someone keep watch of the Pedersons all day. Fortunately, Walker and Caelan were only a comm call away once we were set up.

  Sabrina nodded solemnly. “I’ll do that. And I brought the ingredients for that spice cake you like so much.”

  “That’ll be lovely,” Gwendolyn said, just as an imperious female voice from deeper inside the apartment called out, “Gwendolyn! I need you now!”

  Gwendolyn and Sabrina shared a knowing look, and then Gwendolyn departed.

  “What was that all about?” I hissed as I followed Sabrina down the hall to the kitchen. I was glad that I’d opted not to wear my comms until the actual data-breach part of this evening’s performance began. I could just imagine the choice things Xavier would have to say if he learned Sabrina hadn’t been upfront about all this, and I wasn’t sure how I’d defend her if it came to that.

  “Oh, don’t mind Gwendolyn,” she said, taking the groceries off the cart and organizing them on the acres of white marble countertops that lined the sides of the preparation area. “She’s likely just had a bad day dealing with Mrs. Pederson.” Her eyes came to mine, and they were sparkling blue, like she was having the time of her life. She snapped her fingers in an exaggerated gesture. “I should have told her that you’d volunteer to go and flirt with Mrs. Pederson, since you’re so good at it!”

  Oh, man. She’d really been struggling with the jealousy. Damn, but I liked that. Still, my sexy little chef had a lot to answer for.

  “I meant,” I said warningly, backing her against the counter. I braced my palms on the cool granite on either side of her hips. “What the fuck was that tale you spun for her? About us being together?”

  In truth, it was neither the weirdest nor the worst backstory anyone had ever come up with for me. It actually made good sense. But I wondered how she’d come up with it, and why she hadn’t warned me.

  “First of all, I didn’t spin a tale.” She pushed her hands against my chest and I backed off half a pace, enough to give her some breathing room, but not enough to allow her to move away until she’d answered me. “I told her it was easier to deal with what I needed to deal with when you were with me.” She smiled wide. “Which is the God’s honest truth, because I
’d never be able to sneak into Max Pederson’s office and get the stuff without you.”

  My mouth opened and shut. “That’s the barest technicality! You let her believe…”

  “Are you really giving me shit for technicalities, Mr. White-Hat Security Expert?” she demanded. Her hands, which were still resting on my chest, stroked gently up and down, like she enjoyed soothing the outrage she’d provoked.

  I just enjoyed her touch.

  “And I told her that because I knew she wouldn’t let you in here otherwise without a background check.”

  “A fact you conveniently forgot to mention until now,” I reminded her, pushing her more firmly against the counter once again. This time, she didn’t push me away. Her breath hitched and her pupils dilated.

  “Because...” She licked her lips and visibly tried to recollect what she’d been about to say. “Because it’s not nice to be out of the loop, is it, Anson? It’s not fun to be told about a thing when it’s already been decided, and essentially being given no choice but to comply. It’s never nice being forced into a corner.”

  “I… That’s…” Ridiculous, I wanted to say, but another part of my brain insisted the correct word was accurate. I narrowed my eyes and wrapped my right arm around the small of her back, pulling her against me. “You’re a little bit terrifying.”

  She smiled at that. “I feel like we somehow got off on the wrong foot because you found me cowering in a closet, and you boys just insist on perceiving me as this weak little woman who can’t take care of herself. I’m no muscle-man like Caelan, it’s true. But I have a brain in my head, and I would pit my will against any of yours, any day of the week.” Her eyes grew distant, then clouded with annoyance. “Even Xavier.”

  I was hard as fuck instantly. I wasn’t sure whether it was some Pavlovian response to her dislike of X, or that a woman who possessed both intelligence and a devious mind had always been my personal catnip.

  Eh, who was I kidding? I’d been insanely attracted to this woman from the first time she laid hands on me in her father’s office. Maybe I was hardwired for her.