Naughty and Nice

by Sarah J. Brooks

  “It looks nearly finished!” I said to the foreman, who was waiting for me just outside the security fence, a nervous look on his face.

  “It is, Sir,” he nodded, seeming to relax a bit at the sight of my smile. “There are a few electrical things we’re still working out, mostly with the security system and alarms, but it will be ready for you when your shipment arrives.”

  The foreman had aged in the time since I’d seen him last, and I knew that it had probably a lot to do with this project. I held out my hand to him, and he shook it.

  “You’ve done fine work,” I said. “You and your men will be rewarded for going above and beyond what I’d expected for or dreamed was possible.”

  At this, the foreman beamed. “Let me show you what we’ve done.”

  A few hours later, I returned to the hotel, my spirits buoyed by the knowledge that the shipment coming in would be received to a secure facility, and that Manuel Brown, when he arrived, would approve.

  Cassie was awake and sitting on the patio when I walked in. Her laptop was open on the table, and she was taking notes on a pad of paper next to her.

  “Baby,” I said sitting down next to her. “You back to work already? How did you sleep?”

  “Fine,” she said. She paused and sat back, looking over at me. Still, I could tell she was distracted. “How was work?”

  “I want to bring you to the build site,” I said. She looked at me like I was crazy. “I want to bring you there so that I can show you part of what it is that I do. And, I need to tell you some things about my past. Some things involving the boy in the picture you saw.”

  My heart was pounding loudly enough I could feel it in my throat and hear it inside my head.

  “Your son,” she said slowly, her eyes locked on mine, daring me to deny it.

  “Yes,” I said, blood rushing through my head. “My son. Antoine.”

  Cassie

  I couldn’t believe the day that I’d just had. Yesterday, I’d been hunkered down in Brad’s suite in London. Today, I was back in Morocco, once again at Legacy, and Brad was standing in front of me telling me that my instincts had been correct: the boy in the picture I’d found on his desk did have his eyes. The boy was his son. I felt a mix of “duh” along with “holy shit.” I remembered that the first feature of the boy that had stood out to me had been his eyes; his eyes were Brad’s eyes. But, whether I just didn’t want to believe it or something else, I’d let Brad convince me that it wasn’t his son or anyone nearly that significant in his life. I shook my head.

  “What happened to him?” I asked. Of course, I feared the worst, and I felt pieces of the puzzle that was Brad beginning to fall into place. The lonely billionaire, isolated, successful in business, a captivating smile but no connections, a worldwide traveler with no roots. Of course; he was a bereaved father. Something had happened to his son. Something tragic, something that he was, perhaps, trying to atone for.

  “I’m going to tell you some things today, Cassie, but we’re going to do it on my terms. I will answer only those questions that I feel your knowledge won’t endanger your life. If, at any point, I change my mind, we’re coming back here and I’m putting an end to it.”

  I nodded, not because I agreed, but because I knew it was the only way to get him to continue talking. I closed my computer. “Let’s go,” I said. “I’ll get dressed.” I went into the bedroom and changed into tight jeans, boots, and a light t-shirt before Brad could change his mind.

  We went first to the building site. I’d expected Brad to explain along the way, to talk about Antoine, to tell me about why he’d had this sudden change of heart and decided to talk to me about all of it, but he didn’t speak. He stared silently out the window while the driver took us through the streets of the village and, finally, pulled up to what looked like a small, modest factory. It looked slightly out of place, but it didn’t look anything like what I’d envisioned the build site of a billionaire to be.

  I looked at Brad, confused. He seemed to read my mind. “Not everything is what it seems, Cassie; just wait.”

  I nodded and he opened my door for me. He escorted me through the front door and into an elevator. I glanced at him, realizing that the ground floor was actually the top floor of a building that went deep into the earth. He hit the down button and we began to move.

  Several minutes later, the elevator doors opened and I gasped. The room before me was immense, a full scale warehouse underground. It was empty, but along the walls and in the center were what seemed like miles and miles of empty shelving, waiting for… waiting for what?

  “What is this place?” I asked.

  “This is a warehouse for a shipment of… product. This is one of fifty such warehouses worldwide. There’s one in San Pedro—”

  “On that tiny ass island?” I asked. He looked at me sharply. “Sorry,” I said, biting my lip.

  “There’s another in London. Turkey. South Africa. Russia. The United States. Australia. Colombia.”

  He added Colombia at the end, and my journalist brain caught the change in the tone of his voice. Brad thought, I knew, that he was the expert in body language and in reading people, but he didn’t know that I had a fair amount of talent in that area as well. He’d been hoping to just slip Colombia in among the others, but that country was not like the others. Colombia was known for one major thing: drugs. Drugs were connected with guns. Militia. Infidels. The manifest of weapons I’d seen on Brad’s computer shot through my mind, but I kept my mouth shut.

  “And the product isn’t Hallmark cards,” I said, looking out at the warehouse instead of at him. “Are the other warehouses empty as well?”

  “No,” he said. “This one is empty only because there was an attack on the building. This building that we’re standing in didn’t exist six weeks ago.”

  I stared at him. The scale of this project was incredible. There was major money behind building something this strong, this fast.

  “Are you the sole funder of the project?” I asked.

  “That’s not a question I can answer,” he said.

  “You just did.”

  He glared at me, and I knew I’d pushed.

  “You have no idea how big all of this is.” He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up. The light caught on his forehead and I realized he was sweating. “This was probably all a huge mistake.”

  I put my hand on his arm. “Brad, I love you and I want to be able to trust you. I can’t trust you if you withhold things from me. I think you know that, or you wouldn’t be telling me things.”

  “What I’m telling you can get you killed,” he whispered, and he looked at me. I saw fear, which I expected to see, but I also saw pain. A pain that spoke so loudly, moved through me in such a rush, I felt my knees nearly buckle. He was in agony.

  “Let’s get out of here, then,” I said. “I’ve seen enough.”

  We rode the elevator silently back up, and, when the doors opened, I was surprised to see Simon waiting with the driver.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, both surprised and pleased to see him.

  He smiled. “I didn’t want to miss the tour,” he said. “Brad told me that he was going to share some information with you, and I wanted to be here to support…you both.”

  “I’m going to take Cassie to Florence tonight,” Brad said to Simon.

  “Italy?” I asked, incredulous.

  “No,” Brad said, finally cracking a smile. “Sorry. Florence is a lounge here in Casablanca. It’s very exclusive, private, and…” he paused.

  “It’s secure,” Simon finished. I caught the look of relief Brad shot Simon, and I was glad that Simon was there with us. I had the feeling things were going to get worse before they got better.

  Brad

  I woke early so I could sneak out while Cassie was still sleeping. Yesterday had not gone well. Cassie might disagree, but I felt like all I had done was further expose Cassie to danger, and I hadn’t gotten ve
ry far in asking for her help or in explaining anything about my past.

  I traveled to the build site with Simon, who knew enough to just sit in silence with me. I barely knew he was there as I pushed myself deeper into my thoughts. I paged through the texts on my phone I’d exchanged with an unknown number that morning. Manuel. He was meeting us at the site.

  We pulled up, and Simon nodded at a black town car also pulled up to the side of the security fence. “There he is,” he said.

  “Yes,” I said. I got out of the car; Simon did not. I walked toward the fence, and I kept my eyes trained forward as I heard a door of the town car open. I stood by the fence, waiting.

  A moment later, Manuel Brown was at my side.

  “Have you been inside?” he asked, staring at the door of the ground level.

  “Yes, Sir,” I said.

  “And what is your opinion?”

  I paused. This was a landmine question.

  “I think the foreman did an exceptional job,” I finally said, once again feeling my heart pound loudly in my chest. “I told him that I would be giving him and his crew generous bonuses for the work that they did so efficiently and to such a high quality.”

  The words fell out of my mouth, and I paused to catch my breath, closing my eyes to force myself to get a grip. I’d been in board rooms with sharks, with people who proclaimed loudly that they had no soul save for the one they’d bought for themselves. I’d stood up to negotiate for more, better, stronger for myself and for my family at every turn. I needed to be able to handle this conversation in the same way.

  “Generous bonuses,” Manuel repeated, chewing the words as if he’d never spoken them before. He probably hadn’t. “Those are the words of a bleeding heart, Mr. White.”

  I said nothing. I kept my eyes trained on the door to the building. I knew that there was a gun pointing at me from the town car; that was the way Manuel worked. I knew if I moved, reached, stepped, did anything out of character, the gun would become an active entity.

  “And you have a young lady with you this trip, I hear.”

  My body fought to respond, to turn to him and tell him to not touch her, to not even reference her, but I kept myself still.

  “Mr. White, you have done good work for me in the past. I consider keeping your son alive the equivalent to that ‘generous bonus’ you so readily hand out. Your work has been slipping lately, but I am pleased with the work that was done on this site. The shipment is coming in just hours from now; it’s on its way. Perhaps this is an upswing for you. Perhaps you will get to see your son again one day.”

  Bile rose in my throat as Manuel Brown brought up my son. I swallowed hard.

  “However, this young woman has caused you some trouble. Mavin Toller, for example, has crawled out of the woodwork. Do you know of Mavin Toller?”

  “No, Sir,” I said. “I know of him by name only. From…” I stopped, not wanting to say Cassie’s name.

  “From Cassandra Young, yes, I’m aware. I’m also aware of an NCA agent that lost his life in the presence of your young friend. They were close, weren’t they?”

  I exhaled deeply but quietly. “They were acquainted professionally,” I said. “Agent Shim was investigating me and was questioning Cassie to get more information about me. Information she never gave him.”

  “Right, because he had that unfortunate accident.” Manuel reached out and ran his fingertip along the metal of the chain link fence. “Unfortunate. Accident.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I wanted to meet with you today, Mr. White, to tell you to keep your eyes centered and forward. I’m uncomfortable with the amount of distractions coming into your life: young women, exploding NCA agents, competitors of mine…”

  “I’m not distracted, Sir,” I said. “I brought Cassie here only to keep her safe. Mavin Toller has abducted her once, and he’s now killed an agent. I can protect her.”

  A snicker escaped Manuel Brown’s lips. “Yes, you’re so well equipped to protect your loved ones. She’s in capable hands, I’m sure.”

  I fell silent once again. Each time I opened my mouth to speak, I knew I was risking Antoine’s life, Cassie’s life, and possibly my own life.

  “I’m not worried about Mavin Toller,” Manuel said. “Mavin Toller is an ant. I’m a giant holding a magnifying glass. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I said.

  “So, put Mavin Toller out of your mind. Mavin Toller is not a concern to you. He pulled his hand away from the chain link and looked at me. “Mr. White,” he said, and I turned to look at him. “Stay focused. Remember why you began this. It wasn’t for pussy. Distractions, if they’re not eliminated, can undermine the best of men. Either you eliminate her, or someone else will.”

  He turned and walked back to the town car. The door opened, he entered it, and I watched until his leg disappeared and the door closed. The car drove away, and then, and only then, did Simon step out of the car, pocketing his pistol as he did so.

  “He didn’t look happy,” Simon said.

  “No,” I agreed. “He sure didn’t. I have to get back to Cassie; we have to get out of here.”

  Cassie

  We returned to Florence on our last night in Morocco at my request. I couldn’t stand one more night in the hotel, and I’d actually had a good time at Florence the first time we’d gone there.

  We arrived at eight o’clock, Brad in his tuxedo and me in an emerald green evening gown that Brad had, as he’d taken to doing, picked out for me. This was a particular favorite: it accentuated my curves and made my hair look even more fiery than it did on a normal day. I took a small amount of pleasure in stepping away from the computer and my research to don a black lace g-string, black silk stockings, and a corset-style bra that pressed my breasts together and up, creating a shelf of cleavage I knew Brad would want to eat right along with his appetizer.

  I wasn’t wrong. He took one look at me and took me into his arms. I felt stress melt out of his body as he held me, kissing my neck and moving his tongue down my neck to the rise of my breasts.

  “Easy there, killer,” I murmured. “I want to at least show this dress off for a while before you tear it off of me.”

  “I will be tearing it off of you,” Brad said, smiling as he returned his lips to my ear, nuzzling his nose against my ear lobe.

  “I expect nothing less,” I said. “Now let’s get going.”

  We had the same table that we’d had the earlier night. Each table at Florence was a separate room with a private server. The room contained a traditional table with a u-shaped booth, but it also contained a couch with a table, a large screen television, a fully stocked bar, and a luxurious fireplace. Patrons could sit at the table or move around the room as they wished. Brad and I began at the table.

  Our server, a young Moroccan woman who kept her eyes down yet managed to be remarkably attentive, brought a bottle of wine that Brad approved and that tasted like a dream.

  The first course arrived, and Brad and I settled in.

  “No business tonight,” I said when he opened his mouth to speak. “I want to be a normal couple tonight. Can we do that?”

  “A normal couple?” he asked, smiling. “What on earth is that?”

  I shook my head. “A normal couple might do something like this.” I took the glass of wine out of his hand, drew my hand to his upper thigh, and kissed him. His lips tasted like wine, and I sucked them lightly, then smiled as I felt his cock hardening against my hand.

  “You keep doing that, and we’ll be a normal couple that gets arrested for indecent exposure,” he joked. That would never happen in a place like this, and I knew it. These rooms were private, I realized, precisely because of all of the things that went on behind the closed, private doors. Sex was probably the least of what went on.

  “Ah, okay,” I said. “Hands off, then, I got it.” I pulled my hand away and crossed my arms across my chest. Doing so pressed my breasts up, and I watched Brad’s eyes hunger
as he looked at them, at me.

  “Not so fast,” he said, pulling my arms apart and leaning in to kiss me.

  The door opened, and I began to pull away, but Brad pulled me back to him more tightly. I looked out of one eye and realized that our server kept her eyes down for modesty, for our privacy. She saw nothing, she heard nothing… even when she did.

  I also realized that Brad and I were far from a normal couple. A normal couple… that, we would never be. I also realized I was okay with that. I pressed my breasts to Brad’s chest, and he groaned, feeling the fullness of me against his broad, strong frame.

  “If we keep going like this,” I whispered, “we’re never going to get our meal eaten.”

  “Are you hungry?” Brad pulled back from me suddenly and gazed at me, a look of concern on his face. “If you’re hungry, we can get food right away. Real food, we’ll get rid of these appetizers.” He waved at the sushi, bread, and olives as if they were nothing.

  “Chill the fuck out,” I said, “and come with me to that couch.”

  I led Brad to the couch and I laid down, beginning to pull Brad on top of me.

  “One minute,” he said, and he stood up and walked to the door. He picked a red card from a sleeve on the back of the door, opened the door, and slipped the card into another sleeve on the opposite side. He turned and began walking back to me. “That’s to let our server know that we’re not to be disturbed,” he said.

  I held out my arms to him and he dove onto me, kissing my neck and beginning to tug at my dress.

  “Careful!” I scolded, giggling, “You’ll tear my dress!”

  “I’ll have another one delivered by dessert,” he growled. “You are so fucking hot.” He sat up over me and pulled off his tuxedo jacket and shirt, then yanked off his belt and slipped out of his pants. I watched hungrily as his flesh appeared more and more before me.

  I sat up and began to unzip my dress behind me. He snapped his fingers and I arched my eyebrow at his non-verbal command, but I knew exactly what he wanted. I sat up and turned, my back to him, and he unzipped my dress. Rather than turn back around, I got to my hands and knees on the couch. My breasts spilled over the corset bra, and I watched him take in my ass and thighs. I knew the g-string was already wet with my arousal, and I moved to inch down the thigh high stockings.