by Vivien Vale
And now I feel worse than ever, because I know before I even look that the information I need is in there. I feel so bad for doing this to Braden that I almost want to turn away, but to back out now would mean that I no longer have a choice in what to do.
I've got to get the information to at least hold my options open.
I open the drawer though my head pounds. Then I see the blueprints. I pull them out and spread them across the desk.
It's all here in front of me. Oh, my God, I see how he's done it. He's using an afterburner technology that is out of this world. I never expected he's be tuned into this kind of thing.
What he's doing is highly illegal, and it makes sense now that the FBI would want him locked up for it. But I can tell by the plans that Braden's also on the cusp of something new, and that the FBI will also want this information to use for their own engines. They probably need a person as much of a genius as Braden on their side.
He's accessed a far greater breadth of knowledge than they were aware of. Maybe he refused to give it to them or refused to work for them? I don't know, but looking at the plans makes it all apparent as to why Braden's in so much trouble.
They probably want these blueprints more than anything. More than putting him or the other crew members behind bars, they want the info.
In a way, I'm jealous that it was he and not I that came up with this. Why did I not think to use afterburning to increase the thrust? It's so obvious to me now, but technically speaking, it’s hard to achieve.
I admire Braden. He really is the smartest guy I know, and that is so, so sexy.
I take the blueprints and fold them up. I'm going to need to sneak these out of here.
I remember dropping my Louis Vuitton purse by the door, so I quietly leave the office, making sure everything is left as it was. Then I go down the hall to the front door where I tuck the papers into my purse.
Hopefully, now I'll have time to crawl back into bed with Braden, and he'll never have noticed that I left.
It's so early in the morning, and yet I know he loves to get an early start, too, so I better hurry.
Just as I turn around to join him back in bed, I see his large frame leaning against the frame of the door that leads to the foray.
"What are you doing, Jenna?" he asks with dark eyes.
Damn. I've been caught.
20
Braden
She's on her knees, placing the blueprints in her purse.
Is it weird that I think she looks gorgeous in the morning light, wearing my sweat?
Is it wrong that I want her just as much as ever, even in the midst of betrayal?
"What are you doing Jenna?" I ask her pointedly.
She stands to greet me and tries to play off the deception like it never happened.
"Oh, hi baby. I was just getting some lip gloss from my purse. You woke up early."
So it's gonna be like this. She won't admit that she’s flat out stealing my plans from the drawer in my desk. What does she take me for? A fool?
I planted the blueprints there on purpose, in order to catch her betrayal if it occurs. Does she really think I'd hide them in plain sight, with the desk drawer unlocked?
I guess she does, and I guess she's really working for the FBI. None of what's happened between us has any merit, none of it was true or came from a place of honesty. It was all part of an elaborate scheme to get to this point in time.
She's a liar.
I feel a sense of disappointment that's new to me. Usually, I don't care enough about a woman to be disappointed. I really thought more of Jenna. I thought she was different; thought she’s the real deal.
I know she might be on the cusp of the wrong side. I know she may sway to the authorities and I'd lose her forever.
But now I see she’s in it all along. She's set to ruin me from the beginning.
It's why she got close to me. Her attraction has been nothing more than a facade.
She's been faking it all along, and the reality hits me like a ton of bricks.
I never fall for anyone; I just couldn’t find someone to trust. And now, as soon as I put my heart out there and actually begin to trust, I get nailed.
It's like my instincts are off. I can normally read people so easily, but I guess I read Jenna all wrong.
The feeling of defeat is staggering.
She's got the lip gloss in her hand and she comes up to give me a kiss.
The problem is the sight of her, caught in such an obvious lie. For some reason, it doesn't disgust me or put me off. I still think she's radiant, and I'm still as attracted to her as ever.
And therein lies the problem.
"Have you had breakfast?" I ask.
"Oh no, I just grabbed some coffee. You have quite the espresso maker."
"Come with me," I grab her hand and lead her into the kitchen. "I make the best omelette."
She seems a little shaken, a little thrown off her game, and she should be. It took balls to do what she did, sneaking around my office when I wasn't aware. And then she so narrowly got caught.
I, of course, was expecting it. I heard her slip out of bed. While I was hoping that my information on her was wrong, she certainly proved otherwise.
In the kitchen, I play some music. The sun is shining through the windows and it feels like it should be a good day.
"Do you cook?" I ask her casually.
She laughs.
"Nothing edible. I'm not a very good cook. I know every restaurant in town for a reason. Plus, I have a private chef that comes in on occasion."
"You do? You live a ritzier life than I do."
"A girl's gotta eat."
I oil the pan and begin my creation. Cooking, to me, is like an art form. I find value in cooking for people I love. Not that I'm saying I love Jenna. Not by any means.
My mind is occupied as I make her breakfast. I thought last night meant something to her. I thought we were on the same page. But what I'm coming to find out is that every moment she spends with me is an act, for an ulterior motive.
And yet it can't be. I know we have a connection. I know she feels it too. You can't fake that, can you?
Either she's the best goddamn liar in town or I've got it all wrong.
"Okay, well, now you can sample some homemade food, a luxury in your world."
I plate her the omelette in town, complete with greens, imported cheese and all my favorite ingredients.
Internally, I curse myself for getting so worked over Jenna. I'm a playboy after all. I don't get consumed and upset by women. I make them swoon, and I bed them, and that's it.
Why should Jenna be any different?
I look at her smiling over her breakfast, so appreciative and sweet about everything. How could I be wrong about this girl? It's not like she wears her heart on her sleeve, but is and always has been kind-hearted and respectful to everyone I know.
She has a flawless reputation unlike my own. She prides herself on having morals and I fucking respect that.
But then I envision myself walking in on her, crouched over her purse stuffing my blueprints away. I saw it with my own eyes, there’s no going back. I can't deny what I saw.
"Is it good?"
"So good. You could be a chef. Like, really."
She's happy and thankful and I'm torn apart. I have to just put her in the category with all other women and not become emotionally involved.
Even if I put her in that category, I don't know where to go from there. Should I break things off?
I curse myself for getting my heart involved. I'll know in the future not to go there. There's a reason I don't involve myself with women like this. It always ends up messy and complicated.
It’s unreal, and I can't even believe I've let my heart go so much. I'm normally so guarded and I'll have to be that way again.
I owe it to myself and to my long reputation of staying distant to continue to do so. I deserve the best, and if Jenna's a fraud, then she's not the best and I
needn't have anything to do with her.
At the same time, I have to play this thing carefully. If I break it off now, while things are so good on the surface, she might get suspicious. It'll look like I know what she's up to.
If anything, I have to prevent her from getting those plans to the FBI. They must not obtain them.
In order for that to happen, I'll have to keep things as seamless as possible. I'll pretend back. If she thinks she has the monopoly on acting within a relationship, she's wrong. I'll beat her at her own game.
I vow to push my feelings out of it and to make this all about business from now on. It'll be hard to mask my hurt and to not ask her a thousand questions, but I have to do it if I have any chance of keeping a handle on this thing.
I plaster a fake smile across my face.
"I'm so glad you're enjoying your breakfast. Anytime you need real food, that's not delivered from a takeout menu, or by a private chef, just come on over."
I hope to convince her of my sincerity.
"Thanks, Braden. I'd really like that."
She seems earnest as ever, and again my heart aches knowing the truth. It's gonna be harder than ever to keep this charade in business mode, when all I want to do is to sleep with her and fuck her and make her mine.
This constant obsession with Jenna is gonna have to stop, but at least I can be with her for a few days longer. At least her body is not forbidden to me yet.
I haven't quite had my fill of Jenna yet. Will I ever?
Seeing her here, sitting on the marble island so close to me, wearing my clothes, her hair a tangled, freshly-fucked mess, makes my cock harden.
It might be hard to bury my feelings and to forget about Jenna meaning something to me. But it won't be hard to indulge in her body just a few times more.
I walk over to her and lovingly kiss her. She thinks I'm true and that my emotions are real. Well, how could she see past that when she's deceiving me so? This is exactly where she wants me, and she thinks she’s got me there.
She kisses me back and maybe to her she's still on top. Maybe she believes she's the one playing me. But that'll never happen. I'll always be on top. I'll always dominate her, even in this.
"I'm so glad you stayed over baby," I say to her.
She looks at me with those emerald green eyes.
"Me too. I'm so happy, and last night was...intense."
"I know. I wish we could repeat it, but I have to go to work in about an hour."
She stares at me with lustful eyes like she's thinking of what it would be like to take to my sheets again.
I give her one, long passionate kiss and then I pull away.
Game on.
21
Jenna
I’m shaking.
I feel sick to my stomach and nauseous.
I can’t believe I so narrowly escaped Braden finding out about me.
I rush through the lobby, out the doors, and into the light of day.
I breathe and catch a breath of fresh air outside of Braden’s building.
That was so intense, having to lie to him like that.
I check my purse to make sure the blueprints are still there.
After all the trouble I went through to get them, I better not have left them behind.
I carefully tuck them back into my Louis Vuitton and then catch a cab.
I’m positively torn in half. I care about Braden so much, and yet I’ve just stolen from him.
I haven’t yet decided how far to take the betrayal, but stealing those plans was enough. I feel terrible.
I sink into the back of the cab and just feel like hiding my head away from the shame of it.
I think about the moment that Braden walked in on me in the foyer. There’s no way he wouldn’t have seen it. He had to have seen me put those blueprints in my purse.
How could he have missed it?
It’s midmorning and everyone’s rushing around, getting things done and tending to business. There’s all manner of people out today. I look at them with envy, thinking what simple lives they must lead compared to mine.
They’re not wanted by the FBI. They’re not in love with someone that they must deceive. They haven’t just stolen from the man of their dreams.
All of this is on my shoulders, and it’s almost too much to bear. For all the years I’ve liked Braden, now it’s all come to this? It feels like my feelings have been in vain.
I finally catch a break and now the world comes tumbling down.
It’s just my luck, really. I stare out of the window sadly and count down the moments it takes to get to my apartment. I want to pick over Braden’s blueprints and see what he’s done.
I finally arrive home and am glad to just get some space in the privacy of my home.
I make some tea and unroll the plans across my little artisan table in the kitchen. I need to study these to fully understand Braden’s motives and plans.
I smooth my fingers over his scribbled handwriting and think about last night. I’ve never been so intimately connected with one man. It felt so good and it felt so right.
I felt understood by him and in his strong arms. I could finally let go and not be so in control all the time. Braden has this need to dominate me, which I kinda like.
I should’ve known he’d be an alpha male in the bedroom as he is in life. Nothing is more attractive than a man who knows what he wants and who goes after it without a fault.
I need him too. I need that dominance in my life because I’ve found through surrendering to him that I can really allow myself to come undone.
It’s hard to study the plans when all I can think about is the feeling of flying I had on that glass balcony when he made me come in mid-air. The stairwell where we fucked so hard and I felt at one with him flashes through my mind. I miss him already, and I just left him.
After all that connection, I betrayed him, and it makes me feel sick.
I drink my tea and look outside, wondering what he’s doing. He said he was going to work today.
I myself can’t even think about going to work and seeing my crew. Under the circumstances, it’s too much to think about facing them and Braden all on the same day.
I normally am not one to take a day off. But until I figure out a plan, a way to evade the Feds, well, I can’t even look at a racetrack.
I’m too far into this. While I want to be with Braden unencumbered so badly, I also know that the hopes of that happening while I have the FBI breathing down my neck is slim to none.
My phone rings and I jump to grab it, hoping that maybe it’s him.
“Hello?”
“Jenna, it’s Mr. Harrison, the agent you met on the street. Listen, we’re ready to bring Braden in, and we need that information. You’ve had ample time to collect it.”
Fuck. I should not have answered my phone.
I’m looking at the blueprints right now. All the information is laid out before me, but I will not reveal this to the agent. I don’t think I can go through with it after all.
“Hi, how’d you get this number?”
“That’s beside the point. What I need to know is if you’re going to accept your immunity or not.”
“I thought I had more time. I don’t have the information yet,” I lie through my teeth.
“That’s incorrect, Jenna. We know for a fact that you have what we need. Now if you don’t want to play ball, we can bring you into custody.”
“Wait, what? What are you talking about?”
There’s a long pause at the end of the phone. Why is there pause?
I’m starting to feel like I’m in pretty deep here, deeper than I should be. I’m lying to Braden and I’m lying to the FBI. Either way, I lose.
Just then, a series of photographs pop up on my phone.
It shows me leaving Braden’s building this morning. It shows me taking the plans out of my purse to see that they were still there. And then there’s a series of photos showing me stuffing them into my purse and jump
ing into a cab.
“I’m under surveillance?” I say to the man.
“Of course, Jenna. You’re gonna help us, and we need to know what you’re up to at every moment. It’s obvious from those photos that you have the information we need. Now it’s time to offer it up.”
I’m pissed now. They don’t have anything on me. This whole situation has been ruining my life, and I’m about sick of it.
What would feel most right is to just tell Braden all of this. But who knows, maybe they have his apartment bugged? Maybe they’re following him as much as they are me. Maybe the whole club’s being watched.
“It doesn’t sit well with me that I’m being followed when you have no actual evidence against me,” I say to this Mr. Harrison if that is, in fact, his real name.
“You better be careful, sweetie, because you’re skating on thin ice, and you’re about to go down hard with the rest of them.”
Hmm. I’m offended. It’s a classic intimidation technique.
These dirty cops have nothing on me and probably nothing on The Billionaires Club. I’m sick of being put in the middle of this and of dealing with them.
“Excuse me, is that a threat?”
“It may be. You’d do well to abide by it.”
His tone is frightening. This is the FBI, not your average NYC policeman. I feel like I’m playing with fire, and I might get burned.
“If you don’t give us what you want, you will pay.”
I summon my courage to say, “This is coercion, and I don’t think that’s very legal, Mr. Harrison.”
“Don’t mess with us, Jenna. You have the option of immunity now, but I can take that away at any moment.”
The reality of the situation is starting to scare me, and I truly don’t see a way out. What are my choices? I’m racking my brain, trying to stall and to come up with a plan.
“Well, I need more time. I have the plans, but I need to go over them myself first. You can at least give me that.”
“I’ll give you that,” he says. “But this is your last chance and warning.”
