by K. Webster
Do I want to change?
When I’m thinking clearly, no. However, when he eats me alive with a simple stare, I want to strip for him and worship him from my knees.
Winston Constantine makes me weak.
“Enjoy your day,” I croak out. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
His lips kick up on one side in a half-grin. “See you soon. Be prepared to finish this conversation later.”
He storms off, vacating the condo without another word. I suck in a lungful of air that still smells like him. Spicy. Expensive. Clean. Masculine.
“I’m in trouble, Shrimp,” I call out to my parakeet that’s fluttering his wings from the chandelier. “He’s going to wreck me.”
Shrimp sings like he agrees, but he doesn’t sound entirely mad about it. In fact, Shrimp appears to love his new digs. I guess if I were a bird and suddenly had more space to fly, I’d be chipper too.
I spend the next hour dusting. The dust doesn’t exist, but I need to keep my mind busy. Otherwise, I’ll worry about Winston’s meeting with the Morelli man and just how much money my safety is worth. Shrimp, my nosy bird, follows me around, chirping loudly from my shoulder as I explore rooms I’ve never seen in Winston’s condo.
Buzz.
I toss the duster down and quickly read my text, hoping for news from Winston. When I realize it’s from one of the Terror Triplets, I freeze.
Scout: I’m sorry for mishandling you, dear sis. Please accept my apologies. I’m just a boy who doesn’t know his own strength. Forgive me.
I cringe at his ridiculous apology.
Me: Lose my number.
Scout: We’re family. Don’t be like that.
Family doesn’t hurt one another the way he hurt me last night.
Me: You’re nothing to me, Scout. Nothing.
Scout: I’ll persuade you. You’ll see.
His ideas of persuasion make me shudder. No thank you. I’m about to respond when someone raps on the door. For a split second, I worry Scout has found me. I urge Shrimp to fly to his chandelier and then make my way to the front door. I peek through the hole and am relieved to see Nate rather than Scout. I’m about to open the door when I think better of it.
“Can I help you?” I ask through the door, slowly turning the lock to engage.
Nate chuckles. “You could let me in.”
“Winston doesn’t want visitors,” I say in a tight voice. “Sorry.”
“Then why would he give me a key?” He holds up his keys, jangling them in front of the peep hole. “I could let myself in. I’m being polite.”
“It’s just that Winston just told me—”
“I understand. The Morellis are all over his ass right now. You have every right to be afraid, honey. But I just left the office where Winston told me to come here and wait for him. Trust me, Winston is going to be in a shit mood when he gets back. Don’t give him one more thing to chew our asses out about.”
He does have a key . . .
“Fine, but I’m going to text him to be sure.”
“Whatever makes you happy,” Nate says as I disengage the lock and open the door.
His gaze sweeps over me, and he beams. Still the same friendly guy as last night. And Winston’s friend. I’m being paranoid, thanks to Scout and the Morellis.
“Come on in,” I grumble. “Do you want something to drink?”
A laugh barks out of him as he enters. “No, honey. And don’t let Winston catch you playing hostess. I don’t think that’s what he’s hired you to do. I know where he keeps his liquor. I can serve myself.”
I shut the door and follow after him. He strolls into the space like he’s been here a hundred times before, making a beeline for Winston’s bar area across the living room. I relax a little knowing he’s used to hanging out here. Pulling out my phone, I start to text Winston but then worry I might distract him from his meeting. I’ll see how this goes with Nate and then decide if I need to text him. Surely, I can handle his friend all by myself.
Nate pours himself a tumbler of amber liquid and then holds his glass up. “Can I offer you one?”
“No thanks. I’m supposed to be working.” I give him a curt smile.
“Take a break and indulge me in small talk.” He walks over to the sofa and sits down. “Do you live here now?”
I scoff at his words. “No. I’m his maid, not his girlfriend.”
“Hmm,” is all he says, winking at me over the top of his glass as he sips it. “You’ll have to pardon me. Winston is a mysterious man. We’ve been friends for years, and I’ve never seen him so . . . smitten.”
Smitten seems like such a trivial word for Winston.
Obsessed. Consumed. Paralyzed by the need to throw money at me. That’s more the Winston I know.
“He’s a complicated man,” I agree as I pick up my duster. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
I stick to dusting in the same room as him so I can keep an eye on him. He messes with his phone as he drinks, clearly already bored at having to wait for his friend. Good. Maybe he’ll leave soon.
The doorbell rings, and I jump. Why are all these people showing up? Nate stands, a frown of concern painted on his face.
“Are you expecting someone?” he asks.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone, but you people keep showing up,” I grumble.
He prowls after me like he thinks he needs to protect me. I do relax a bit knowing he’s here. If it’s Scout, I don’t think Nate would allow him to hurt me. I peek through the hole and let out a relieved sigh.
“It’s just the doorman,” I murmur.
“Good. I’ll enjoy my drink then.”
Nate walks off, and I answer the door. The doorman smiles at me. He has a cart loaded down with boxes and garment bags.
“These are from Mr. Carly. He said it’s all he could do in a pinch, but he’s working on a more extensive wardrobe. May I come in and unload your things, Miss Elliott?”
I nod, shocked that not only does he know my name, but that Carly managed to get me clothes already. The doorman drags the cart inside, and I usher him down the hall to the guest room I’ve come to think of as mine. He puts away each item in the closet and the dresser drawers. As he turns to leave, I stop him.
“Wait, I uh, let me get some cash for a tip,” I blurt out.
He chuckles. “Don’t insult Mr. Constantine, Miss Elliott. He pays me well enough that I never need accept any tips from this condo. Have a great day.”
As soon as he leaves, I make my way back into the living room, but Nate isn’t there. Nerves shoot through me, making me tremble. I hurry down the hall, peeking in each room, looking to see where he went. When I come up empty, I start for the stairs. He appears at the top, a mischievous grin on his face.
“You shouldn’t be up there,” I gripe. “There’s no reason to go upstairs.”
“Ahh, but that’s where you’re wrong,” Nate says with a maddening smirk. “Your fancy boss man has heated towels in his bathroom. The guest bathroom downstairs doesn’t offer such amenities. He’s spoiled me to those damn warm towels.”
Rich boys and their prissy needs.
Gross.
He makes his way down the stairs. I’ve almost started back on my task of pretend dusting when my phone rings in my pocket. I yank it out and answer, expecting Winston. Instead, Manda’s voice purrs down the line.
“Hello, darling,” she croons. “How is your work for Mr. Constantine coming along?”
“Just dandy.”
Nate eyes me with curiosity as he helps himself to another drink. I don’t want to leave him alone again for privacy, but I also don’t want to have a conversation with my stepmother in front of him. In the end, I opt for hiding in the kitchen out of earshot, but where I can still keep an eye on him. Manda rambles, and it isn’t until she mentions Scout that I realize I’ve missed nearly all of what she’s said.
“What?” I croak out.
“I said I apologize for my son’s behavior. I can
assure you it won’t happen again.”
She knows? How?
“What did he say happened?”
She sighs. “That he got rough with you. Hurt you. Like Mr. Constantine said, he indeed bit you—”
“Wait. You spoke to Winston?”
“I did,” she says, her smile wide in her voice. “He explained how important you are to him. Mentioned that Scout had hurt you. Sweetie, next time just come to me. We can handle our family matters without assistance from Mr. Constantine. It was rather embarrassing to be called at work this morning regarding what happened. You know how Scout can be. He’s broody like his father.”
“Did you tell Dad?”
“Heavens no,” she breathes. “Your father is a busy man. I can handle my children.”
Silence fills the air as I wait for her to continue. After a beat, she continues cheerfully as though we didn’t just gloss over the fact her son sexually assaulted me, bit me, and threatened me.
“After your shift with Mr. Constantine, I’ll pick you up for a much-needed girls’ night,” Manda says. “Just the two of us. We’ll go to our favorite restaurant.”
I really don’t want to hang out with my stepmother, but I can’t hide out at Winston’s forever.
“Sure,” I mumble. “Is that it?”
“Dress nicely, sweetie. You’re making a name for yourself in the elite society being Mr. Constantine’s new plaything. If you’re seen in public, you need to be absolutely flawless.” She chuckles. “No more sloppiness.”
“Winston had some clothes delivered. I’ll be dressed just fine.”
“Did he now?” She can barely contain her excitement. “I knew he was taken with you. If he’s buying you clothes, sweetie, it won’t be long before he’s buying you a ring too. The Constantine name will certainly suit you.”
It’s annoying that I’m suddenly deemed important now that Winston is in my life. Whatever. I’ll take it if it keeps her bastard sons off my back.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Manda. He bought me clothes. It’s not a marriage proposal.”
“Not yet,” she says. “Text me the location and when your shift ends. I’ll be by to pick you up. Goodbye, darling.”
I hang up the phone, huffing in annoyance. When I glance up, Nate is leaned against the counter in the kitchen, his playfulness gone. His eyes are narrowed, and his arms are crossed over his chest.
“Trying to get the great Winston Constantine to marry you? That’s what this is all about?” he asks, his brows furling. “A gold digger through and through?”
“What? No. It’s just my stepmother,” I groan. “Forget you overheard any of that conversation.”
“I should get going now.” He gives me a polite smile. “And, honey, I never forget a thing.”
15
Winston
The hours just tick by, pissing me more and more off. It’s a game. I know how the Morellis work. They like to keep you on your toes and throw curveballs to trip you up. Unfortunately for them, I anticipated this move. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t annoy the fuck out of me, though.
“You think they’ll come?” Perry asks from the seat beside me, looking up from his phone.
“They’ll come.”
He goes back to scrolling through his phone. I take the moment to study my brother. Today, he dressed the part in a Brioni two-piece navy pinstripe suit that I know set him back seven grand. His normally messy dark blond hair has been recently cut and styled in a way that makes him seem older than his twenty years. I have to give the guy credit. He does appear to be trying. And his insistence upon staying with me when everyone else was sent home spoke volumes regarding his loyalty to our family name.
Ding.
The chime of the elevator can be heard all the way into the conference room. Seconds later, the doors open and male voices echo loudly. Perry tenses but otherwise seems to force his body to remain unaffected by the arrival of our most hated foes.
“Good afternoon, boys,” Leo Morelli greets from the doorway of the conference room. “Sorry to keep you waiting. We had other business to attend.”
I turn my head to pass a glance over our guests. Leo and the Morellis’s most-trusted henchman, Trenton Alto. Trenton remains poised, ready for a fight, the muscle in his neck jumping in time with his pulse. Leo, the fucking bastard, grins.
“Does Lucian know you’re fraternizing with the enemy?” I ask in greeting.
Leo, unbothered, saunters over to the chair beside Perry and sits. “Lucian has other issues to deal with. Until this one becomes one, I don’t see the point in involving my brother.”
“A man of his word,” I rumble. “I can respect that.”
Trenton remains near the door, his watchful eye never leaving me. Unlike these barbarians, I don’t pack heat. All the heat I need is in my big fucking wallet.
“Let’s get to this,” I say, flipping open my laptop. “I had my attorney draw up a generic agreement. As soon as we finalize the details, I’ll fill it in, and we can be on our way.”
Leo barks out a laugh, elbowing Perry. “Is he always this much of a dick?”
“Where we come from, we call it power,” Perry bites back, giving off impressive ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibes.
“Power.” Leo shakes his head, his lips twisting into a sneer. “Just because you can’t see or understand ours, doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
Interesting.
In his desire to throw his dick around, he’s fed me a kernel of information. I knew they were heavily doused in illegal underground operations, but I didn’t realize how much so until this moment. It’s a thinly veiled threat stating they have one hell of a punch they’re packing, even if I can’t see it.
Where they have fists, I have financial lordship. They might have legit corporations bringing in money while they do dirt on the side, but I own the buildings, businesses, and people whose pockets they’re sticking their hands into.
“I’m not here to talk about your nefarious business dealings, Morelli. I’m here to strike a deal.” I pin Leo with a hard glare. “State your terms.”
Leo sits up, resting his forearms on the table and steepling his fingers. With his dark hair and wicked stare, it’s as though I’ve welcomed the devil himself into my conference room. Little Leo is nothing compared to his brother Lucian, though. Just a small boy trapped inside a man’s body hoping for scraps his brother will throw his way. I eat people like Leo Morelli for lunch. But, because he’s homed in on Ash, I’m playing things differently than I normally would.
“I want you to sell me the Baldridge Plaza building.” His brow arches as he smirks. “That’s it.”
That’s it?
The building alone is worth millions.
“Go big or go home,” I say, leaning back in my seat. “I admire those Morelli balls, but that building is non-negotiable. Surely we can just settle on a dollar amount that will satisfy you.”
“I don’t want your money!” Anger flashes in his eyes. “It’s a stupid building. Why do you care about it? I said sell it to me, Constantine, not give it to me.”
If only Lucian knew his brother was showing his hand so willingly to the enemy. It makes me want to dial up the eldest Morelli brother to tattle on this little prick. Almost. If I involve Lucian, he sure as fuck won’t want a dumbass building.
“Why the Baldridge Plaza building? It’s a medical building. Certainly a little more legitimate than what you’re used to dealing with.” I flash him my signature asshole grin, elated when the vein on his neck pops out with fury. “Choose something else.”
“No,” he snaps, slamming his fist down on the conference room table. “I want that building.”
Perry taps away on his computer and then turns the screen toward me. It’s the land records of the buildings that surround the thirty-six-thousand-square-foot Baldridge Plaza building. They all have the Morelli name on them.
“I see,” I say to Perry. “Someone’s been playing too much Monopoly.”
/> “It’s one building, and it’s not even that big,” Leo snaps. “You’re surrounded by us. You can’t tell me whatever revenue you make from the tenants there will outweigh the sale of it.”
Selling the Baldridge Plaza building means giving up an entire block in this city.
It also keeps the Morellis away from Ash.
“It’s a choice location, so I’ll accept thirty-eight point five mil. Not a penny less.” I start typing on the contract. “This agreement states that all Morellis are to keep Miss Elliott’s name out of their mouths. It extends beyond her employment with Halcyon. If she should cease her employment here, the contract states it’s forbidden for her to take positions that directly lead back to any of your businesses, both legitimate and non-legitimate.”
Leo laughs. “I don’t want her to work for me.”
“Miss Elliott is not to be followed, harassed, questioned, or spoken to,” I continue, ignoring him, “or the contract is considered in breach.”
Leo leans back in his seat, a smug, satisfied grin on his face. He thinks I handed over a valuable piece of real estate to him without much argument. Truth is, I know I’ll get this property back eventually, along with the entire goddamn block.
“When Lucian finds out about this—”
Leo cuts me off with a wave of his hand, his nostrils flaring slightly. “This is my business, not his.”
“Don’t be coy, Morelli. We both know you’re going to have to ask your big brother for the money.”
Perry’s lips twitch like he might smile. The kid knows a thing or two about having to rely on his big brother to access his funds. While Leo made us wait, I brushed up on my research of him. Everything from the car he drives to the restaurants he frequents. He’s not playing in the same ballgame as we are.
“Money isn’t an issue,” Leo says, his tone icy cold.
I study him for a long moment, making him squirm as I assess the validity of that statement. “You know, I admit, I thought you’d ask for a lot more.”
Again, his eyes flash with unspoken intent. “I’m feeling generous.”
“Lucian isn’t going to approve,” I tell him, giving him a triumphant grin. “His little brother is out striking deals with a Constantine. Are you sure you don’t want to wait for him to sign off?”
