The Nightingale Trilogy: An Alpha Billionaire Romantic Suspense

by Cynthia Dane

  Entry #3

  I had a meeting with Nightingale today. She is rougher than I initially took her to be. Younger, too. I already knew she was both of these things, but seeing how much so reminded me that I must be cautious. She could be a liability.

  Business continues as usual. My personal life, outside of seeking vengeance… it becomes harder each day to separate my past from my present. Every day she is not with me is like two hands squeezing my throat. Some days are easier to bear than others, especially if I focus on my work. But recent events have forced me to think of her every day. Sleep does not come easy. It’s been three years, and yet I feel like I’ve been suffering much longer. Such is Crow’s reach.

  I hope Nightingale is my means to an end. What will happen after? I cannot conceive.

  Chapter 6

  Vincent Matthew Lane, b. May 31st, 1985, the Wikipedia page said, in Fresno, California. Founder and CEO of Lane Technological Solutions based out of Portland, Oregon. Money Builder Magazine’s #5 most eligible bachelor of 2015 with a net worth of over $1 billion.

  Nala sat back in her seat, the cheap plastic of the chair squeaking loud enough to rouse her neighbor, an elderly man in serious need of assistance. “Does anyone know my password?” he kept asking, pointing to the email login screen. “I need to check my credit!”

  The sounds of the local library continued to buzz around Nala, but she only had eyes for the grainy screen in front of her. “A billion dollars, huh?” Nala wasn’t stupid. She knew that wasn’t how much untaxed money he had sitting in his credit union account. Vincent Lane maybe had a few million at his disposal, tops. He was practically broke, like her.

  “Thank you for visiting your local Multnomah County Library branch,” a sweet voice said over a speaker. “We will be closing shortly. Thank you.”

  While the man beside her groaned in despair, Nala fumbled for a few dimes and printed off Vincent’s Wikipedia page. Would be good reading later.

  A billion dollars… She slipped into her rain jacket and pulled her backpack onto her shoulders. I can’t even imagine. How did a man make that much money? She knew that Vincent was in “tech” and developed “apps,” but that was as far as her knowledge in that field went. Tasha would have known all about that. Truly, Nala and her sister were the opposite sides of the same coin. While Tasha was inside reading science books and taking apart computers, Nala was outside climbing trees – and falling out of them. In the beginning, it was their mother who came out to kiss the boo-boos and admonish the foolish youngest daughter for climbing yet another weak tree. Then their father died and their mother became a useless shell. Tasha started coming outside after that. She was the only one there to kiss her sister’s boo-boos.

  Well, she couldn’t do that anymore. Not unless the zombie horde had finally come to take over the world.

  Nala shuffled through a thick mist down the sidewalk. Her “house” was only a few minutes away from the library, but she wasn’t in a hurry to get back. For one, her roommate Patrick was home. And for two, she had to get ready for her big “date” with Vincent the stoic billionaire, which sounded about as exciting as pulling out her toenails.

  No, wait, she took that back the moment she walked through the front door. The thing as exciting as pulling out toenails was bumping into Patrick in the living room.

  “Heeeeyyy Simba!” he called, already high off his rocker. The living room reeked of pot, but then again so did every house on that street. “Have fun learning books at the library?”

  Nala shut the door behind her, scraped her feet on a mat, and went straight to the hallway closet where she slept. “Shut up. Don’t call me Simba.” He thought it was hilarious because her name was Nala. So when she displayed any aggression against that name, it made it worse.

  Difficult for Nala to not show aggression when she wasn’t supposed to. Should make tonight’s date super fun.

  “Whoa, that’s quite the dress.” Patrick hung over the back of the ratty living room couch, his chin scruff covered in cheese dust. “Where you going in that thing? Prom?”

  God, he was in the clouds. Pot clouds, as thick as his head. “Uh huh. Prom. Cause I’m in high school.”

  “Haaaaa.”

  Rolling her eyes, Nala shut her “bedroom” door and dragged her new dress to the bathroom, also known as her walk-in wardrobe with water features.

  The dress wasn’t anything special. It was the best she could find on short notice and with “only” two hundred dollars to spend. Didn’t Vincent the billionaire know that consignment shops in Portland were expensive? They appealed to the trust fund babies who thought making a lark with riding bicycles, dressing in dumpster dive wear, and working at cafés for “real world experience” was the epitome of one’s 20s.

  My ass is too flat for this shit. Nevertheless, Nala stood in front of the smudged mirror, pulling the skirt down until she was presentable. Oh, sure, she was going to some tycoon’s sex club, but she wasn’t one to put herself on display and lure in the leers. Quite the opposite. Nala wanted to blend in. Be unseen. So when she bought this body-hugging strapless cream-colored sequin monster… perhaps she wasn’t thinking ahead.

  I should have budgeted for shoes. Her same black heels from the other night would have to do. Hopefully there would be no stairs to fall down this time.

  Nala wasn’t a woman for makeup. Yet she knew that these assholes would want some semblance of propriety from a woman of her supposed standing. What is my standing, anyway? Vincent was paying her to be his fake girlfriend and submissive for however long it took them to get what they wanted from Xavier Crow. That could last weeks. Months, if Nala could stomach it. I probably can’t. For all her bravado, deep down Nala was still a scared little girl who needed her big sister to come kiss her boo-boos after falling out of a tree.

  “How does this even…” She had stopped at a pharmacy after buying her dress to pick up some cheap makeup. Now she stood in front of that mirror, wondering how eye shadow, eyeliner, and even blush worked. Nala could fake the lipstick… maybe. “I’m a fucking clown!” That was what she declared before promptly washing off the makeup and starting over. A dab of light pink lipstick. Some smoky eye shadow. That was it. They could deal with her tiny pimples.

  Nala stumbled out of the bathroom and grabbed a small satchel. As she approached the front door, a black four-door sedan pulled up in front of the walkway. A masculine figure lurked behind the wheel.

  “You were right, Patrick,” Nala announced to her stoned roommate as she opened the door. “It really is prom night. Wish me luck in getting laid.” Not really.

  She wobbled down the concrete path to the sidewalk, leaving the shambled craftsman home behind her. Vincent popped out of the driver’s side and made to open the passenger side door before Nala made it that far.

  “Hi,” she said, her breath appearing before her eyes. Even though she threw on a heavy black sweater before leaving, it wasn’t enough. The cold nipped right through the fabric. “Look at what two-hundred bucks buys you around here.”

  She said that flippantly, and yet Vincent leaned over the door and watched her get into his car. Nice ride. Leather interior. And clean! “It’s lovely. You look… lovely.”

  With a huff, Nala situated herself in the comfortable seat and reached to close the door… except Vincent was still holding it open, his eyes boring upon her in that barely-there dress. Okay, buddy… Where did asexual Vincent go? Where was that stoic man from the sparse office? Where was the button-down and comfortable trousers? Tonight, Vincent wore a three-piece suit again, this time without the tie. His hair was styled in place, and a new cologne wafted through the frigid air. Very, very musky.

  Nala may have been stuck in an endless cycle of tortuous grief and anger, but she was still a human. A human full of hormones and biological responses she couldn’t control, no matter what her brain was doing.

  So while her brain said, “What the fuck, girl? You’ve got a mission to accomplish!” her body said, �
�Hey, look at this hottie. He’s pretty clean-cut and sexy. Sexsexsexsex girl hey how about that cock in his pants?”

  “You should shut the door. It’s cold.”

  Vincent’s demeanor remained unchanged as he stepped upon the sidewalk and closed the door against Nala’s arm. He sauntered around the front of the car before getting back into the driver’s seat. The light of the day had faded, so all Nala could see in that dark car was the outline of her fake boyfriend. Who smelled really good.

  And was putting his arm around her, coming in with his mouth…

  His mouth…

  “Wha…” Nala’s skull met the headrest as Vincent lightly kissed her lips. His scent overpowered her, infused her with more of those hormones that demanded she unzip his pants and get a feel of him. What? No way! Where was that feeling coming from… and why the fuck was he kissing her?

  The kiss did not last long. Surely, it was only a few seconds, but in Nala’s world it lasted more than ten lifetimes. The universe slowed. Her eyes fluttered open and shut, one part of her wanting to lean in and savor those soft, tender lips and another part willing her to push him far away. Wasn’t this assault or something?

  Vincent sat back, his body still looming over Nala’s, but in a non-threatening way. “We were going to have to do that eventually,” he explained, returning to his seat. “At some point we would have to kiss in front of those people. They do it all the time.” He started the car, the soft purr of the engine sending tingles through Nala’s awakening body. “I thought it would be best to do it now and get the awkwardness out of the way.”

  His words settled in her brain, but they did not mean anything as he pulled away from the sidewalk and drove toward the nearest boulevard. Nala stared at her lap, at her hands clenched in it, wondering, wondering what this all truly meant. I shouldn’t feel like this for him. This was a job. A mission. She didn’t even know who Vincent really was, and she sure as fuck was not a girl who did things casually. She had never even been in love before. The last boyfriend? She thought that was love at first, but realized now she hardly missed him at all.

  “Don’t do that,” she finally whispered. “If you’re going to kiss me, warn me.”

  They were stuck at a stop sign. Vincent glanced at her. “I’m sorry.”

  Nala let out an exasperated breath. “You should be. You do that to every woman you take to sex clubs?”

  The car turned, lurching poor Nala toward the window. “Apparently,” Vincent said.

  Things were quiet on the first boulevard. Nala gazed out the window, watching lights come and go as they headed downtown. Bridges loomed in the distance. Runners going for their nightlies jogged in place at lights and signaled to cyclists who didn’t have a care in the world. The man kissed me. She touched her fingers to her lips. He kissed me. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Vincent sitting silently behind the wheel, taking them to an uncertain future. He wasn’t her friend. He wasn’t even really a business associate. He was a means to an end. Nala thought that he felt the same way about her… until now.

  No, he was right. We have to kiss in front of those people eventually. They’ll want to see us do the bare minimum, at least. Kissing and touching and hugging… it’s better than the spanking and the whipping. That’s what she thought as they approached a notoriously long light.

  “Vincent…”

  “Hm.”

  Nala forced her spine straight and her face forward. “We should have a signal… some gesture for when the one needs to kiss the other. To keep appearances, of course.”

  He cleared his throat. “That is a good idea.”

  “Maybe a tap on the shoulder. A warning that a kiss is coming. I don’t like surprises.”

  “I don’t like them either.”

  “So no more surprises?”

  “Certainly not.”

  Nala squirmed in her seat. “So a tap on the shoulder. Then I’ll be ready for your lips.”

  She tried to sound jovial. Why not, in this situation? Best make the most of it. But when she glimpsed in Vincent’s direction, she found him staring at the road and putting his foot on the gas so they could cross the bridge into downtown.

  “I did some reading on you.”

  “Did you?” Vincent fiddled with the fan like he would with his watch or cufflinks. “Good. We should get to know more about each other before people start questioning us. Might not be a bad idea. What did you learn?”

  “Well… you’re a Gemini, for one.”

  Whenever Nala mentioned the Zodiac, she had no idea if she should anticipate laughter or scorn. Vincent seemed like the type of man who would go for the latter. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “No. I’m an Aries. We’re supposed to get along well.”

  “You don’t strike me as the sort of woman into horoscopes and all that.”

  “I’m not. My mother used to make a big deal out of it growing up.”

  “Your mother?”

  “Duh. I have a mother.”

  Vincent scoffed. “So do I.”

  “Is that the woman whose picture is in your office?”

  He glanced at her, forebodingly. “I do have a picture of her in there, yes.”

  “And the other woman? Is that your sister?”

  “The other woman…” Vincent shook his head. “I don’t have any siblings.”

  “Oh.” Nala didn’t pry any further. It was none of her business if Vincent didn’t want to share. As long as he wasn’t lying about not having a girlfriend, well, what did it matter to her?

  “For the record, it’s difficult to find out much information about you, Nala Nazarov.” Vincent eased the car down another road, careful to avoid traffic congestion. “Even though that’s a fairly rare name.”

  “There isn’t much to know about me. I was born here. I moved to Nevada as a kid. I moved back here a few months ago. Didn’t go to college and work some odd jobs. I’m nothing like you.” Somehow, she managed to sound confident when she said that. “For one, I don’t go around kissing people by surprise.”

  A chuckle filled the car. “Of course not. Do you have any family?”

  “My mom back in Nevada. My dad died when I was a kid.”

  “I’m sorry. Siblings?”

  Dread overcame her. “My sister died a little over a year ago.”

  While gremlins battled in her gut, Nala drummed her fingers against the arm rest and wished, for the first time since getting in the car, that they were at their destination already. Anything was starting to become better than sitting around being questioned by a billionaire who thought it was A-OK to plant his lips on any woman he chose. He chose me, though. No, no it wasn’t like that. He chose her because she was convenient. Standing right there in front of him, ready to take on… something… stupid…

  “I’m sorry to hear about that as well.”

  Nala closed her eyes and willed back the tears. Bad enough that Xavier Crow’s presence was going to make her think of Tasha every single second. Did that pity party have to start now?

  “She worked for Black Raven,” Nala braved, her voice a mere whisper above the car heater. “Medical researcher. One of the top ones in the nation, and she was only twenty-seven.”

  They were at another light. Vincent stared at her, calculating, digesting the snippets of her life she had shared. “So we have even more in common than we thought.” Deep. Menacing. Nala involuntarily moved away from Vincent’s tone.

  “How’s that?”

  He put too much pressure on the gas, lurching them across a busy intersection and garnering them a round of unhappy horns from other commuters. Nala gripped the nearest handle and sucked in her breath.

  “Someone who is no longer with me used to work for him too.”

  There wasn’t much time to consider that revelation. Vincent made an abrupt turn onto a side street and parallel parked in a part of town known for its vehicular break-ins. Before Nala could say anything, the engine turned off.

  “We’re here.” V
incent tossed a simple black mask into Nala’s lap as a valet emerged from a nondescript building. “Time to start lying.”

  Chapter 7

  Crow’s current party was held in a luxury hotel suite boasting four bedrooms and a large Jacuzzi. Nala stood in the middle of the brightly lit gallery in absolute awe, ignoring the comings and goings of more guests behind her. Xavier Crow had not yet arrived.

  “You can see all of downtown Portland from here.” An arm looped through Nala’s, startling her as she was pulled up onto a platform near the sliding door. Beyond the window were a million twinkling city lights on display, with trees – so many beautiful, evergreen trees – dotting hillsides and lining streets. “See? There’s the Willamette. The new bridge is gorgeous.”

  Nala sipped the champagne she picked up on her way in. It was only then that she recognized Robin standing beside her, scaring her more than Vincent had yet to accomplish. “It is a lovely view.”

  “What was your name again?” Robin finally released Nala’s arm and looked her straight in the eye, as if she could see beyond the lacy black mask. I sure can’t see past her silk red one. “Sorry if you have to tell me a few times. I’m terrible at remembering names.”

  Nala ran her tongue over her bottom lip before letting a single word pass it. “Nightingale.”

  “That’s lovely! Who picked it out? You or your Master?”

  My what? Nala caught a glimpse of Vincent talking to another man in a three-piece suit, their glasses of brandy nearly empty. My Master? She’s nuts, right? “He picked it out for me.” Like hell Nala was going to say the word Master!

  “Oh, he must know you so well. It totally suits you! Is it okay if I call you Gale, though? It will be easier to remember.”

  “Sure.” Whatever this fool wanted.

  “Do you know the other girls yet?” Robin pointed an excited finger across the room, where the three other women of The Aviary gathered to talk submissive shop, or whatever it was Nala was expected to participate in. “They’re dying to meet you. Especially Starling. She was the new girl these past few months before you arrived!”