by Marie Harte
He suddenly had an image of Zoe rounded with child. A mischievous look in her eye, her sensuality magnified by a tiny bump stretching her belly.
“Christ.” He quickly erased the picture, not needing his cat to get any more ludicrous ideas. Miles knew he needed to get laid—not procreate—but Zoe Castille was not the answer. At. All.
He decided to run by Alan Danville’s, since he’d been invited to stop by. Might as well get Danville out of the way so he could relax tonight. For a few hours, he hoped. He pulled into the pricey subdivision of the yacht club and turned into Danville’s driveway. He exited his car and walked up the drive with dread.
Danville was the pride’s oldest member at ninety-two, head of the council and one of five pride judges who mediated right from wrong, policing the pride at a higher level while Miles’s lieutenants worked the day-to-day goings-on. The man didn’t look a day over seventy and moved like a guy decades younger. He often represented the pride internationally, and he’d become a vital asset to the workings of their organization years ago. Everyone loved him…except Miles. Now that he was in a place where he was forced to listen to the old man’s dictates, he understood how much of a tyrant Danville really was.
Granted, the judge had helped ease his transition into pride leader, but Miles didn’t want the position. Danville refused to listen to him and flat out rejected notions to replace him. And that mate nonsense…
Danville yanked the door open before Miles could knock and gave him a toothy grin, his blue eyes sparkling with intelligence and humor. “Ah, Miles. I was hoping you’d show up tonight.”
“Alan.”
“Come in, come in.” Danville stepped aside, then closed the door behind Miles after he entered.
Warily, Miles followed his host deeper into the house. He always felt on edge near Danville, as if the judge meant to spring some new challenge on him out of the blue.
The scent of several felines caught him by surprise, and he inwardly winced at his decision to deal with Danville tonight in the old man’s lair. Should have cornered the bastard tomorrow, in private on the estate.
At Danville’s prodding, he moved into the formal dining room and found it occupied by the rest of the ruling council, minus Quince.
“Good to see you,” Jane Richards nodded.
“Miles.” Ella Sanchez and Barbara Ruth waved.
Sitting with them around what Danville liked to call his round table, the council’s grand representatives shared coffee and cookies while eyeing him like a tender lamb. Sims, King and Nettles watched him with narrowed eyes while the women smiled pleasantly. All of them added up to eight reasons why he should ditch tonight and go out, far away from feline curiosity.
“Hell. What now?”
Danville grinned. “Have a seat, Miles. Would you like something to drink?”
Miles gave in to the inevitable and sat as close to the exit as possible, far from Danville’s spot at the head of the table. “Why? So you can fatten me up for the slaughter sure to come? No thanks. I just had dinner.”
He saw Ella try to hide a smile.
“Now, Miles. We wanted to talk to you about a sensitive subject,” Danville began and took his own seat. “Best to do it away from your peers.”
“You need to take a mate,” Barbara stated plainly before Danville had even finished his sentence.
“Yes. It’s time,” Nettles agreed. A decent panther still in his prime, he had maybe twenty or thirty years on Miles. He’d been loyal to Michael, and to Quince when Lex and his cronies had tried to take charge. He was the youngest in attendance, with the exception of Miles, and like Miles, he’d never mated. Miles had done his best to try to talk Nettles into taking pride leadership, but Nettles had argued he was too old for the job. Too smart to take it, more like.
“Michael wasn’t mated,” Miles argued.
“He was,” Danville disagreed. “Julianna passed away years ago, true, but she had a most positive influence. She calmed him, made him into the fine feline and leader we all miss. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t bear mating again.”
Miles sighed. “Yes, I know.” The pride had gone into a funk, along with their leader, following her death. But Michael had rebounded. Miles really missed him, and not just because he didn’t want Michael’s old job.
When Miles’s parents had died in a car accident back when he was just a teenager, Michael had taken a keen interest in helping Miles pull himself and his family together. A family man and a protector, Michael Gates had always put everyone first. His love of the pride and his strength as a cat hadn’t been paralleled.
Miles knew he fell far short of the mark. But it didn’t lessen his resolve to do what he could for the pride before he found someone better qualified. “You know, it would help if you’d all stop badgering me to find a female and instead tried to find someone better to run the pride.”
As expected, they started hemming and hawing about keeping him in place.
“Nonsense, son.” Danville scowled. “You’re the man we need to keep us right. You’re smart, dedicated and you don’t tolerate bullshit.”
“Amen,” Ella said with a grin.
Then why am I here? He tried again. “But—”
“No buts,” Nettles cut in.
Miles glared at him. “I don’t see you mated. Or widowed. And from where I’m sitting, you look like a much better candidate to run things.”
Nettles flushed, especially when Danville and the others looked closer at him. “This isn’t about me. You’re in charge now. You’re doing a fine job, and we need you to keep us together. Quince would have been perfect, but we all knew he didn’t have his heart in it to take Michael’s place.”
“And I do?”
“You’ve always supported the pride. You’re bossy as hell, and you have definite ideas about how to handle things.” Nettles nodded with satisfaction.
Miles knew he referred to Leonard Silas and his demands to take over the pride’s residential financials—to which Miles had answered, unequivocally, No way in hell. “That’s business. I know business. I’m good at business.” Actually, he was amazing. Fantastic. “But I’m stifled because I have too much to do for the pride in Miami, when I really should get back to Bermin Beauty.”
“Delegate, son.” Danville smiled.
Miles bit his tongue at the son reference again. Danville only did it to reinforce his authority and seniority. By the crafty gleam in the old man’s eyes, he knew Miles didn’t like it.
Miles cleared his throat. “I am delegating. Quince takes over when I’m busy. Joy and Willow are handling the female concerns. Ellis and Jace continue to oversee our territory while Rain and Dana manage our assets. But I couldn’t care less about the day-to-day bullsh—”
“Wonderful. Knew we could count on you to keep things running,” Sims interrupted.
“Yes, good work, boy,” King agreed, completely ignoring what he didn’t want to hear.
Like the rest of them.
Miles sighed. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the honor of being in charge. I do. It’s just that—”
“He’s aware a replacement is necessary if we want to stop the raptors from encroaching on our territory,” Esmie Castille said from the doorway. “Direct brawling isn’t exactly his style. He’s a corporate predator, am I right?”
“How did you get in?” Danville asked, blinking at her.
Like Zoe, Esmie had a presence about her. A strength and sensuality that the years hadn’t faded. Nettles seemed to sit up straighter in his chair as Esmie sauntered into the room.
“Hello, Alan. Ladies, gentlemen. Christopher.” She winked at Nettles. A direct acknowledgement.
Interesting. Especially since the man flushed and had yet to blink or look away from her.
“Esmie,” Nettles replied, his voice husky.
“You know, Esmie, I keep hearing talk about these supposed raptors heading our way, but I haven’t seen anything,” Miles said. “And neither have my lieuten
ants.”
“Yes, your lieutenants. That’s my point,” Danville emphasized. “They’re already loyal to you.”
“They were loyal to Quince.” Before he sicced them on me.
“Miles, even I heard rumors about a Miami takeover,” King offered. “Just because the birds haven’t made a move yet doesn’t mean they won’t.”
Miles scoffed. “Yeah? Well the wolves have been yapping about supplanting us for years, but their hairy heads are still in Texas. And the foxes? Nothing out of our North Carolina friends. The raptors are more hot air.”
Esmie interrupted. “They’re coming, and unless we do something about them, we’re going to have a real problem.”
Miles regarded her with curiosity. “And you know this…how?”
She shrugged. “It is what is it, and there’s a reason we’re back, Zoe and me. Say what you want, but my baby girl can wipe the floor with a yard bird like nobody’s business.”
The others chuckled at the insult. God forbid a raptor heard himself compared to a chicken. Feathers would fly. The comparison even had Miles smiling. “Well, then, Esmie. Why don’t you tell the council what Zoe wants while I spend the rest of my evening trying to forget what she told me?”
Esmie grinned. “Try all you want. It’s hard to ignore a Castille when she doesn’t want to go away.”
“Don’t I know it,” he muttered. Then he rose and nodded to the group. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’ll take what I’ve heard into consideration. I think it’s time for me to go out and see what I can shake up in the city. In the meantime, I’ll leave Esmie to clue you in to a possible future we lucky cats have to look forward to.” One he knew they’d laugh out of the water.
Danville opened his mouth to protest Miles’s departure, then closed it. He stared at Esmie, paused, then slowly nodded. “That’s fine, son. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Not if I can help it. “Sure. See you later.” He made his escape while he still could, curious but not wanting to stick around to hear Esmie’s news. She had nothing but trouble to share, and he’d already had plenty of that with the younger Castille.
Now thirsty, horny and ready for some action, Miles left Danville’s house in search of some entertainment. Something to take his mind off Zoe and her shenanigans. Preferably an agreeable short, slender blonde in the mood for a good time and not much else.
Chapter Four
“Well, Esmie?” Alan Danville raised a brow.
She wondered if he knew how much he resembled Miles Bermin at that moment.
“The raptors are coming. It’s a fact.” And they would understand what that meant. Though only Christopher and Barbara were her contemporaries, the others had been around long enough to know her mother and her grandmother. Her kind of power grew stronger through the generations when the line remained pure. And Esmie had mated a strong, powerful cat before his untimely death, shortly after Zoe’s birth.
“Hell.” Alan sighed. “How much time do we have?”
“Enough. That’s why Zoe and I returned.” She paused, wondering how much she ought to tell them about Zoe’s plans. The girl leapt before she looked and always had. But that’s part of her charm, she thought with a grin. A lot like her Mama, that one. Though Esmie had recommended returning and storming the pride with a hostile takeover, Zoe had convinced her that wasn’t the way. Perhaps the girl had the right of it. In any case, it was her place now, not Esmie’s to make things right. Best to keep quiet and let Zoe announce her plans to the senior council in her own time.
“It’s good to see you again, Esmie.” Christopher smiled at her.
“You too, Christopher,” she said, intentionally purring his name.
That cute flush made its way over his cheeks again, and she tried to remember why she’d never sampled him before. Such a handsome feline, with those nice cheekbones and dark eyes. And a judge at that. Oh right, a good boy. Before she’d left the pride those many years ago, she’d been in a bad-boy phase. But times had changed.
“Before you two go sniffing around each other,” Alan interrupted drily, “how about we fix this Miles situation? The boy wants out. We all know that. But how do we—”
“Zoe.” Esmie winked at Christopher before turning back to the rest of the table. King, Sims, Nettles, Sanchez, Richards, Ruth… She liked the feel of this group. Unlike the old council, who she couldn’t stand, positive energy radiated from these elder cats. With them, her baby girl might have a shot at making her dreams come true. “Zoe’s going to solve all your problems.”
“Don’t you mean make more?” King snorted. “She’s your daughter all right. I still remember when she glued my grandson’s ears to his head.”
Barbara Ruth snickered. “That’s because he heard things he wasn’t supposed to. Then the dumbass told everybody about them.”
Esmie chuckled. It did her heart good to hear Barbara swear. She’d finally let go of some of that starch in her shorts. “That’s all in the past. Truly. Zoe and I have spent years learning about the other prides in and out of the country. Seeing what works and what doesn’t.” She deliberately skirted the truth of Zoe’s intentions. “She’s going to mate Miles.”
The smiles of relief on everyone’s faces amused her. Misleading them about her daughter’s plan to takeover might bite her in the ass later. But she knew how pleased they were that Miles would take a mate. And it soothed her desire for grandchildren. Just saying the words Zoe and mate out loud tickled her to no end.
“Well, well. So that’s why you came back. Does she know?” Alan asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
“No, and I’d appreciate it if we could keep this to ourselves.”
“Sure, sure.” Alan nodded. “If you say it’s coming, I believe you. My Tessa was good friends with your mother, you know.”
Esmie had always liked Alan’s wife. “I know. I was sorry to hear she passed.”
Alan smiled. “Stubborn as a goat, but a good woman all the same. I’m sure she’s making a list of my many transgressions for when I join her.”
Not for a while yet, she thought but didn’t say. Alan had more work to do here—like giving Zoe information to help her in the coming years. Then a spark drew her back to Christopher. She could feel him watching her. And when she met his gaze, he finally looked away.
Well, well. It seemed her wait for grandchildren might not be a complete bore after all. The others chatted with excitement, making plans and trying to figure out where to take the pride in the next decade. But Esmie had other ideas. “Christopher? How about you and I get reacquainted? Fill me in on all I missed.”
He smiled, and the shy man she had assumed lurked beneath his conservative clothes gave way to a hungry predator. “That’s a splendid idea. How about a drink downtown?”
She agreed, and as they left Alan Danville’s house, he put his hand on the small of her back. Esmie planned on having a very nice night indeed.
Miles sat inside the Coconut Lounge and grinned at the sight of several of the younger males flirting with the humans around the bar. A pricey nightclub, the Coconut Lounge served Ac-taw by the dozens, unbeknownst to their many human patrons. Considering the pride owned the place, it only made sense that it would be a moneymaker. That and it had all of Miami’s beautiful people in attendance.
Miles included, of course.
He sat surrounded by a bevy of models in Miami for a shoot next week. Every one pretty as a picture—stacked, real or fake, it didn’t much matter. No one in this place looked anything less than an ad in a magazine.
He nodded with satisfaction as he half listened to the clingy blonde by his side. She smelled nice and had subtle curves in all the right places, but she was boring by half—the complete opposite of Zoe and just what he’d been looking for. She had on one of his sister’s designs and wore it well. Many in the club dressed in thousand-dollar outfits, from his line as well as his competitor’s.
He studied the clothes as much as the people, trying to get a handle on the club s
cene he’d been out of for nearly a year. Damn, he missed Stacey. She normally dealt with this crowd, showing off Bermin Beauty for potential consumers.
Though Miles invested in other business concerns, Bermin Beauty was the flagship. Call it arrogance or sheer stubbornness, but he’d made his first million with BB, and he intended that the company continue to outperform his many rivals. Especially in his hometown of Miami.
“Miles.”
Hell. Todd Chapman stood over him. Todd owned a chain of boutiques making a run for top dog. He wasn’t a bad guy, but Miles had been hoping to relax tonight.
“Todd.”
Human, handsome, and slightly smaller than Miles, Todd had an ego that knew no bounds. He would have made a decent silver fox with the way he was always trying to out-design and outsell his peers.
“Back in town to stay, I hear?” Todd sipped from a martini glass and looked good doing it. The man had panache. His dark hair had been cut and styled to perfectly frame his face. If he’d had work done, Miles couldn’t see it.
“Yes.” Miles took a drag of his imported beer and emptied it. “We’re expanding our summer line as well as our market out West. I’m sure you’ve heard.”
“Word has it Stacey’s in charge.” At Miles’s nod, he sighed. “You’d do fine out there, no doubt.” Then he leaned closer and lowered his voice. “A word of warning. You and I aren’t exactly friends, but I prefer your animosity over the new group trying to muscle its way into the District.”
Miami’s Design District had been Bermin Beauty’s starting point. At the crossroads of several upscale neighborhoods, it had shaken off decades of urban ruin and become the place to go for galleries, restaurants and upscale shopping. Chapman, Mark Jacobs, Louboutin, Fendi, Bermin Beauty, all the great clothiers had a foothold in the area. So who the hell was this new group?
Before he could ask Todd about it, a hint of tension arose from the far corner of the bar. From Miles’s vantage point seated on the elevated platform, he could see over the many gyrating bodies into the Ac-taw-only section. He recognized two junior felines in the middle of it and sighed. “Excuse me, Lisa.” Or was it Linda? In any case, the blonde attached to his side gave a pretty pout but moved aside when he rose and stepped around her. “I have to see to this. A few cousins of mine,” Miles explained to Todd.
