Satisfaction

by Lexi Blake

  “I would think Patricia’s very presence would ensure a temperature drop of twenty degrees,” Bran said with a grin.

  If only it worked that way. She gave him a wink and looked around the room. There she was. Her boss was talking to a group of people, all of whom were watching her with rapt attention as she shamelessly name-dropped.

  Carly stood on the outside of the crowd.

  Patricia looked up, but it was obvious she was happy where she was. Holding court. With a small tilt of her head, she informed Carly it was fine to come forward.

  Carly eased her way around and finally got to her boss, whispering in her ear, “We need one last shot. I’ll have everything set up in the showcase room in five minutes and then you’re free.”

  “Don’t forget to move Kenneth’s cane. He’ll need it to stand, but he’s far too vain to walk with it around all these people. And grab my cape from the cloakroom. I promised the designer I would show it off,” Patricia ordered.

  “It’s hot in . . .” At the look Patricia sent her, Carly decided not to argue. “Absolutely. It will be there when you are.”

  Patricia went back to her conversation like she’d never stopped.

  Carly made her way to the cloakroom and grabbed the ridiculously overdone silver capelet that went perfectly with the designer gown Patricia was wearing but not great with the Florida heat. It was far too heavy, meant for a place with a true winter, but designers were willing to pay to have Patricia feature their clothes on her show, so weather be damned.

  The material was stupidly delicate. The woman working the counter passed it to her without a hanger. If she carried it in her hands it might wrinkle.

  Wrinkling wouldn’t go with the Cain brand. She slipped it over her shoulders to keep the lines fresh. It wouldn’t matter once the filming was over. It would be one more thing tossed in the back of Patricia’s closet, but for the next few minutes it was super important.

  She strode down the hall after locating the cane, the ornate capelet on her shoulders. It was already stupid hot but the truth was Patricia wouldn’t complain. Not once. She would simply toss the damn thing Carly’s way when it all was done. The one thing she could say about her boss was she was a pro.

  “I’m set up in there,” Mike said as she turned down the hall that led to the signature room and the back of the gallery. “But it’s so hot it’s giving me a damn headache. I sent Tim in. I need some water or something. I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

  “If you’re not . . .” Carly began.

  Mike shook his head. “I’ve been working for that woman long enough. I’ll keep an eye on her. The minute she starts heading that way I’ll be there. After I find some damn aspirin. Who thought this was a good idea?”

  Absolutely no one with half a brain. She watched Mike walk away. This was going to be so much fun. She glanced back at Bran. He was frowning at a TV with nothing but static.

  It would be nice to walk out of here with him, to know that she wouldn’t be alone tonight.

  Live in the moment. She wasn’t going to think about the inevitable future or mourn the past tonight. She would take pleasure in today because it was all she really had.

  Well, she would have it after this damn shoot was through.

  She needed to go and make sure everything ran as smoothly as possible so they could get the shot and be in and out in a few minutes. She would take her boss on her word and flee at the first available opportunity.

  The hall was still. Up ahead she could hear some people talking in the back room, but otherwise all was quiet. All the better to film. There wouldn’t be ambient noise to screw up the dialogue. Of course it would also be a tight fit, so maybe it was best that Jas had been sent back to the house. They’d already gotten several shots that made it look like the family was together. Mike was excellent at managing to get the right camera angle to shrink distance between them and make them look like they actually enjoyed being near one another.

  Not that they did. She had zero desire to sit down to dinner with that family.

  She let the cane clack on the marbled floor. One day she would need a cane. She would be old and gray, and she didn’t want to live the way Kenneth Sr. did. Yes, he had all the money in the world, but everyone hated him.

  A whole lot of people had hated her mother, too. Her mother had a lot in common with the elder Jones, now that she thought about it. He’d spent his life in pursuit of more wealth and Carly’s mom had chased after comfort for herself. She’d bore two children in the hopes of snagging a husband and when she finally had, she shut her daughters out, unwilling to risk any of her happiness for her children.

  What did Bran want out of life? That was what it came down to. Carly had always thought what she wanted was independence, but now she wondered. She hadn’t realized how lonely she’d been before Bran walked into her life.

  He was in pursuit of revenge. She was setting herself up for a nasty fall.

  With a long sigh she opened the door to the signature room and was assaulted with hot air.

  The little stove was definitely doing its job. The small room was thick with heat. The door closed behind her and Carly glanced around. The artist had plastered pictures of ecological disasters on murals around the room. She did not believe in subtlety.

  Mike was right. It was too hot. Something was wrong. There was no way she’d meant for it to get this bad. Carly set the cane down. They would have to prop the door open and turn down the heat. Otherwise Patricia’s carefully prepared hair was going to wilt and turn into frizzy waves, and everything would be ruined because she would bury that footage deep.

  It looked like her night wasn’t quite over yet.

  With a long sigh, she turned back to the door and went to open it.

  The knob turned, but the door wouldn’t open. It was stuck. She tried again but got nothing.

  She had to stop for a moment, her head spinning. What was going on? Carly leaned against the door for support because it suddenly felt like the world was moving. Her stomach turned and she tried pushing the door open.

  She glanced down because if there was a lock, it had to be on the inside of the door. Why would it be on the outside?

  Nothing. The knob was smooth with no way to turn and lock the door.

  Someone had locked her in from the outside. She pounded on the door, her palm slapping against the wood.

  “Hey! I’m stuck in here.”

  That was when it hit her. A wave of nausea. She was going to be sick. Carly couldn’t stand anymore. She slid to her knees.

  Heat alone wouldn’t do that. No way. She’d lived through Alabama summers and it wasn’t like Florida was a bastion of cool weather.

  Something else. Something was going on.

  Carly reached into her pocket, dragging her phone out. She tried to make her fingers work. Her vision was getting blurry. She managed to pull up the last person she’d texted and got out two letters.

  CO

  Carbon monoxide. She prayed Bran knew a little something about chemistry. Real chemistry.

  They had chemistry.

  It was her last thought before the darkness took her.

  Chapter Eight

  Bran was ready to be done. Spy work was boring. No one had told him that. No, when Case started telling stories of his spy days, it was all about the lovely women and bullets flying and that time he’d gotten blown up. According to Case, it had been in a heroic blaze of glory that had cost him a broken leg and one truck he still mourned to this day.

  Not once had Case mentioned hours spent in avant-garde galleries listening in on the conversations of the rich and clueless.

  He’d heard more about aesthetics and clean lines and statement-making opportunities to last a lifetime. His brother needed to throw in his chaos so he and Carly could get the hell out of here and maybe he could seduce her. That would be
a good way to spend the rest of the evening.

  Where was she? He slipped past where Patricia was posing for pictures, hoping she didn’t see him. She seemed to be playing the grande dame of the show. She stood with the artist as someone from the press took pictures of them.

  She was different from what he’d imagined. Cold, yes, but she seemed to like Carly. When they’d spoken earlier, she’d seemed to actually give a damn whether Carly was happy or not. Was that an act? He wasn’t sure.

  Once again he had to wonder if he was the right man for this job. He so often took people at face value, not wanting to look deeper.

  He walked up to one of the few people he’d met tonight that he felt comfortable talking to. Mike was the cameraman and they’d talked some football before he’d had to go and set up for his shots. He also might know where Carly was and how long this was going to take.

  Because his brother was totally right about a few things. He would rather spend his time seducing the girl than following around after Patricia Cain and her band of creepy hangers-on.

  He was starting to think he might want the girl more than anything he’d wanted in his life. “Hey, Mike. Have you seen Carly?”

  Mike nodded, his expression pained. “Yeah, I talked to her about a minute ago. She’s setting things up with the family for the last shot of the night. She was going to talk to Patricia and then go back and help Tim finish. I got a horrible headache all of a sudden.”

  “Yeah, I can buy that. This whole place gives me a headache.”

  “I thought I’d try some caffeine.” Mike flipped open a red can of soda. “Sometimes that helps. It’s already clearing up. I think that room is way too hot. I’ll be glad to get back to filming in studio. I hate these on-location shoots. It’s always in cramped quarters inside.”

  No one expected Patricia to shoot outdoors. He and Carly had eaten dinner al fresco. They’d sat at a pretty bistro table, their knees brushing from time to time. Her small backyard was a mini oasis of peace and calm.

  Something about her seemed to settle him.

  Where was the chaos his brother had talked about? He almost dreaded it now because it could cause Carly discomfort. Hopefully switching out Jasmine’s bodyguard for a wild asshole had done the trick. Patricia had seemed perfectly annoyed that her stepdaughter had caused a scene.

  “Any idea how long it’s going to take?” Maybe he should pull the car around and get her out of here before the chaos started. While she would have to deal with the fallout, she wouldn’t be directly in the line of fire.

  “I can get them in and out in about fifteen minutes. Twenty, tops, if the old man gives us trouble. He likes to be the center of attention so he sometimes causes some drama with his wife.”

  “How long have you been working for them?”

  Mike took a long swallow before answering. “Too long, if you ask me. I started out filming a couple of reality shows for Kenneth’s network. When he and Patricia got hitched, I filmed it for Patricia’s Paradise. Apparently I’m good at finding her best angles and here I am. It’s not too bad if you ignore the hideous infighting. I’m mostly ignored and that’s how I like it. As long as I’m getting paid, I’ll keep my head down. Carly’s the one who bears the brunt of it.”

  “I don’t know. She seems to be pretty well treated to me.” All night long Patricia had seemed on her best behavior. She hadn’t once raised her voice or asked anything overly taxing of Carly.

  Mike rolled his eyes. “Shit. I should have known. That is all for you. You need to watch yourself or you’ll fall into her trap.”

  “Trap?”

  “She likes to play around with young men,” Mike explained. “Those flirtations are the only time she’s ever easy to be around. She’s courting you in her own weird way, and part of that means looking like an actual human being around you.”

  “You have to be wrong about that. I explained that I’m one hundred percent involved with Carly.”

  “Another reason for her to go after you, buddy. That might be the best reason of all. She can’t stand the fact that Carly is better than she is at everything that truly counts. Oh, she wouldn’t put it that way. I’m sure she would say making money and collecting power counts more than anything, but she hates how much she relies on Carly. She hates that everyone loves Carly. She definitely hates that Carly’s Cinderella to her wicked stepmother. Despite the fact that she won’t ever change her behavior, she wants to be loved.”

  “She’s a narcissist.”

  “A classic one,” Mike agreed. “I’m sure in her head she’s the hard worker and Carly is only along for the ride. Look, I shouldn’t talk about the boss this way and I hope you can keep this between us, but you seem like a nice guy. You should know to take anything she says with a grain of salt. And watch your back.”

  Bran knew good advice when he heard it. “I will. I have no interest in anyone but Carly, though I will admit I find the entire thing fascinating. Like a train wreck, but fascinating.”

  Mike’s lips quirked up. “It’s a fucked-up soap opera around here.”

  He was about to gently steer the conversation toward Francine Wells when his cell vibrated. He pulled it out. One text message from Carly.

  Maybe she’d finished up. Or more likely she was telling him she needed more time. Damn. He wanted to leave.

  “I’m feeling so much better,” Mike said.

  Bran pulled up the text.

  CO

  What did that mean? He texted her back.

  Do you need me? Is CO a riddle? What do I get if I figure it out?

  Maybe she was planning a surprise. He could get into that. The night wouldn’t be a waste if he could get her somewhere private.

  “Is there a room in this place that might go with the letters CO?” Bran asked. Mike knew the place way better than he did. “Carly texted me. CO. All I can come up with is commanding officer.”

  It didn’t seem like a fantasy Carly would have.

  Mike frowned. “I don’t know what she meant, but it makes me think. I’m feeling so much better since getting out of that room. I think we need to go check for a gas leak.”

  “Carbon monoxide? CO is the chemical symbol for carbon monoxide and you sent Carly back to that room where the gas heater is. Call 911 right now.” Bran didn’t stop to ask more questions. He took off running down the hall.

  That room was small. If the door was shut, it would fill with colorless, odorless gas quickly and it would overwhelm anyone who was in there. It might even incapacitate them so quickly all a person could do was get out one quick text.

  “Get everyone out of here now!” He shouted because if he was right, then it would affect the entire place eventually. And it posed the risk of igniting. “Get these people out right now.”

  He could hear the chaos that started behind him, but his only thought was to get to Carly.

  Maybe it was all a mistake and he would find out she really did have commanding officer fantasies. He would be completely embarrassed when the cops showed up and all he had to show them was one horny girl and his overreaction.

  That was all this was. An overreaction.

  She probably hadn’t meant anything at all. The text had likely been a mistake. He was going to run in and scare the hell out of her and then they would laugh and he would have screwed up the entire mission and you know what, he was okay with that.

  Anything as long as she was okay.

  Anything so she wasn’t a broken doll on the floor. So she wasn’t limp and dead and cold by the time he got to her, by the time he found the courage to reach for her. Anything so he didn’t have to look at another dead girl and know he was the reason she wouldn’t breathe again.

  “Carly!” He shouted because he could already see that someone had closed the door.

  He didn’t hear a thing except the sound of people leaving the galle
ry en masse. Behind him it sounded like Mike was ordering everyone out, getting them all through the front doors and out onto the street.

  He reached for the door, but it didn’t budge. Fear gripped him. She was in there. He knew she was. She was stuck in there and how long did she have? Not enough time for him to deal with the situation rationally. He needed to go a little crazy.

  “Baby, if you can hear me, back up. I’m coming in.” When he heard nothing, he prayed he wasn’t about to make a bad situation worse. He backed up and then tossed his body at the door. Pain flared through him, but the door gave way.

  Heat blasted out of the room but he saw her.

  She was crumpled up on the floor, her cell phone in one hand. He pulled his shirt up over his mouth because he couldn’t get sick now. He had to be strong for her, had to get her out of the building. Already he could feel some of the effects of the gas. His stomach churned and he could feel the beginnings of a headache start.

  None of that mattered. Only Carly mattered.

  He knelt down and picked her up, hauling her high against his chest. There wasn’t time to figure out where the leak was or to turn it off. There was only time to run like hell and pray nothing worse happened.

  Carly was dead weight in his arms. He made his way back out to the hall and into the gallery.

  Please. Please don’t let her die. Don’t let me be too late this time.

  Bran ran out the doors, the night air hitting him. That smell of salt air was the sweetest thing.

  “What is going on?” Patricia demanded.

  He ignored her, carrying Carly out and onto the patch of grass as he heard the sirens start up. He laid her down gently and put a hand to her head. “Breathe. I need you to breathe.”

  “I asked you what was happening, young man,” Patricia said again. “And what is wrong with my assistant? Why on earth is she wearing my cape? Did she get drunk and ruin this entire evening? I want some answers.”