Planning a score took time—months, maybe even years—and time frames often changed. You had stay limber, had to have a backup plan, had to be ready to switch things up if the original plans went south.
You had to adapt.
Davidson knew that.
So why the hell was he so freaked out?
Still watching his wide, wild eyes, Ari opened her mouth to try to talk him down, but Davidson shoved her head forward and gripped her shoulders.
Ari’s head throbbed as his big, bony fingers dug into the thin flesh of her collarbone.
“I guess we can’t help who we love,” he said. “Poses a problem for me, though.”
“But I don’t love—”
“Hush.” Davidson’s fingers dug deeper, harder, his thumbs grinding skin and muscle against bone. Ari pressed her lips together to keep from crying out.
“If you were to warn Mr. Blackwell, or let the police know about our plan…” Davidson chuckled, but beneath his twisted amusement, Ari again detected something off. He was losing control, acting desperate. Careless. He’d always been cool and calculating. Not emotional. Not reckless.
What’s your end game here, Davidson?
“You can imagine what kind of position that would leave me in,” he said. “For the sake of the crew, I’d have to take immediate action. Permanent action.”
Ari shuddered. She couldn’t even begin to guess what was going through his mind, but a demented Davidson was the last thing she needed—the cold bastard was deadly enough already. Beneath his increasingly unbearable touch, Ari took a deep breath, her mind running through the options while she still had the wherewithal to do it. Other than the ceramic soup bowl and metal spoon, there was nothing within reach she could use as a weapon, nothing to defend herself with if things went from bad to worse.
No. He won’t kill me here. Not like this. He still needs me to get Jared out of the way. It’s the middle of the day. Alan signed him in. His fingerprints are all over the table. Tasha could walk in at any minute…
The thought of Tasha witnessing the deplorable scene in the dining room made Ari gasp.
“I’m not sure we understand each other, Arianne. Which is sad, considering we’re practically family.” His grip was so strong, so unrelenting, she was certain her bones would snap if he didn’t release her soon. She writhed in agony, but Davidson held fast. “What would your father say about this? After everything he taught you. Everything he gave up for you. Such a disappointing turn of events.”
She shook her head again, tears spilling from her eyes. The pain was agonizing, but she had to keep talking, to keep asserting the lie about Jared not wanting to leave town just yet.
She needed Davidson to believe she was on his side.
She needed him to calm the fuck down.
“Please,” she whispered. “I understand completely. You can trust me. It’s not about feelings, it’s about his business, I swear. The acquisition timeline is legit—Lilah and Keens interviewed him. They can vouch.”
“I’m sure they can.”
“Davidson, please!” Ari’s voice was hoarse, her breath shaky and weak, but she had to convince him that he needed her. That she alone could handle Jared, could lure him away from the house long enough for the rest of the crew to get the job done. “We’re so close—I just need a little more time. You have to understand that!”
“Don’t presume to tell me what I have to understand.” His hands wrapped around her throat, tightening. The edges of her vision faded, the dining room turning gray before her eyes.
This is it. He’s really going to kill me.
Ari stretched forward to reach the spoon, the bowl, anything, but Davidson held her back, laughing softly.
“You’ve always been a feisty one,” he said. “I’m sure Blackwell appreciates that.”
“Please,” she croaked. “Not like this. My sister—”
“Oh, Arianne.” Davidson laughed, cold and cruel. It was his usual laugh, the old one without the desperation and fear. Ari didn’t know whether to be frightened or relieved. “Don’t be so fucking dramatic.”
When he finally released her, she slumped forward in her chair, gulping in air, pressing her hands against her chest to keep her heart from beating out. Her body throbbed with pain, fear still coursing through her limbs.
Without another a word, Davidson removed the soup bowl from the table and brought it into the kitchen. From the corner of her eye, she saw him rummage beneath the sink for the dish soap and a rag. She had a dishwasher, but Davidson turned on the faucet and soaped up the bowl anyway, humming an old Irish lullaby her father used to sing.
The melody made Ari’s heart ache.
Davidson was right. Her father would be disappointed. She wondered now how many times he’d had to justify her behavior to Davidson and the crew.
That thought was followed by another, icy and cruel: Maybe he hadn’t defended her at all. Maybe he’d resented her weakness, too.
A few minutes later, Davidson cleared his throat, and she finally met his gaze. He stood in the kitchen, watching her with unchecked disdain, his hand clutching the dishrag as it dripped water onto the tiled floor. She was still hunched over in her chair, unable to move.
When Davidson spoke, she flinched.
“Two weeks, Arianne. No more. If we have to revisit this topic again, you and your pretty little sister will find out what it truly means to hurt. Understood?”
She nodded, her limbs flooding with relief.
“I didn’t quite hear that,” he said.
“Yeah.” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes. I understand, Davidson. Two weeks. You got it.”
“Good. Now go clean yourself up before Natasha gets home from class—you look like shit.” He flung the dirty dishrag into her face.
By the time it slid down into her lap, Davidson was gone.
Chapter Two
Tasha’s bathroom was closer, and Ari barely made it inside before her stomach convulsed, emptying its meager contents into the toilet. Even when she had nothing left, she still heaved, her tears unstoppable, her body trembling with fear and shame. She hated that he had so much power over her—that she’d allowed herself to be the kind of woman who cowers at the touch of a man and gets slapped in the face with a dirty dishrag.
After rinsing out her mouth at the sink, Ari chanced a look at herself in the mirror. Her shoulders and neck were raw, the pale flesh red and swollen. Fingertip-shaped welts were rising to the surface. She winced at her own touch, but thankfully nothing felt broken.
Of course nothing’s broken. Davidson wouldn’t do anything that would require a hospital visit—too many questions, too many records.
Ari trembled again, fresh tears welling.
A knock on the bathroom door broke through her despair.
“Ari?” Tasha’s voice was on edge. “What’s going on? Let me in. Now.”
“Just a sec!” Frantic, Ari looked around for something to cover herself. She grabbed Tasha’s robe from the wall hook, wrapping it tightly around her body just as Tasha pushed open the door.
“I just saw your boss in the street,” Tasha said, breathless. “He—are you crying?” Noticing Ari’s blotchy, swollen face, Tasha gasped. “God, Ari. Did he—”
“No.” Ari clutched the robe tight around her neck. “It’s nothing. I… I wasn’t feeling well. What did he say to you?”
Tasha eyed her warily. “He asked me how I did on my sociology presentation today. How the hell did he even know about it?”
Ari turned on the faucet, cupping water in her hand and rinsing her mouth again to buy a few seconds’ time. She hated lying to her sister, but she needed Tasha to trust her, to trust that she could handle Davidson without involving the police. If Tasha got scared again and decided to file a report, Davidson’s lawyer would make it go away before the ink on the restraining order dried, and then…
…you and your pretty little sister will find out what it truly means
to hurt…
Ari’s mouth filled with the taste of salt. She spit into the sink, then wiped her face on the bathrobe sleeve.
“It came up in passing,” Ari said. She hadn’t mentioned Tasha’s studies to Davidson, but she suddenly remembered him telling her to get cleaned up before Tasha got home from class. The words hadn’t registered before, but now that her head had cleared a bit, Ari understood the message loud and clear.
Davidson knew Tasha’s class schedule. Probably her work schedule, too.
“Why was he even here?” Tasha asked. “Did you tell him you’re looking for another job?”
Ari nodded. At Tasha’s insistence, the girls had been working on Ari’s resume, as if Ari could just give her two weeks’ notice and move on. She almost laughed at the thought.
“We just had a short meeting,” Ari said. “I told him I was considering other options, but it looks like he might come through with a counter-offer.”
Tasha rolled her eyes. “Right. Doesn’t everyone run sobbing into the bathroom when their boss offers them more money?”
Ari turned away, unable to bear her sister’s accusatory glare. But Tasha stepped behind her, their eyes locking in the mirror. Tasha slipped her arms around Ari’s waist, resting her chin on Ari’s shoulder. Ari bit her lip to keep from yelping in pain.
“Look at how miserable you look,” Tasha said. “No salary in the world is worth that. Let’s just sell this place. We’ll move. I’ll take more shifts at work, go down to part-time at school. We’ll figure something out.”
Ari shook her head, wishing she could make her sister understand. “This is figuring something out. I brought my concerns to him, and he’s thinking about things. He’s not… he’s not totally unreasonable.”
“Yes he is, Ari. He’s a classic psychopath.”
“He—”
“Meets all the criteria,” Tasha said. She held up her hand, counting down with her fingers. “Uses intimidation tactics for his own personal gain. Doesn’t show remorse. Fakes emotion to get you to trust him. Manipulates you every chance he gets. Trust me. I’ve been studying this stuff all month, and your boss fits the profile.”
Tasha released Ari, but her gaze in the mirror didn’t waver.
“Okay, okay. You’re right.” Ari couldn’t keep making excuses, trying to explain away Davidson’s treatment of both sisters. His mere presence put them on edge, and lying about it would only put Tasha at a disadvantage at a time when she most needed to be on her guard. Ari had to come clean—at least partially.
“Here’s the deal, Tash,” she said. “I’m in a jam. It’s not… I don’t want you to worry about it. I will handle it, but it’s not something I can fix overnight. I just need you to trust me.”
“I do,” Tasha said. “I just wish you could trust me, too.”
Ari ran her hand over Tasha’s head, twirling the blond ponytail in her fingers. “Believe me, you’re the only person in this whole world that I do trust. But this is my mess, and I can’t… Listen, the more I tell you, the more danger I put you in. Do you understand?”
Tears filled Tasha’s eyes, but she finally nodded.
“I’m not saying this to scare you,” Ari said, “but I need you to be extra careful right now. That means you don’t walk home alone at night, you don’t open or close Perk by yourself, and you don’t give out any personal information to anyone you don’t know. Always be aware of your surroundings, and if you ever think someone is following you, you get to me or to a public place as soon as you can. The more people around you, the better.”
Tasha bit her lower lip. Ari could tell she had questions, arguments, doubts, but Tasha trusted her big sister. God, Ari wished she deserved that trust. She wanted to pull Tasha into a tight hug, assure her that it wasn’t going to be like this forever, that she’d find a way to fix it. But that particular promise had been made and broken too many times to count, so instead, she cupped her sister’s face and touched her forehead to Tasha’s, whispering the truest words she knew. “I love you, Tash. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I promise,” Tasha said. “But what about you? You keep saying you’ll fix things, but how? What are you gonna do?”
Good question.
She could grab their passports, pack their bags, use the credit cards to get them both out of the country for good. The thought had crossed her mind before. But Davidson controlled her credit cards and would easily track her down if she attempted to use them to escape. She had a few hundred in cash hidden in a false-bottomed cookie jar, but that wouldn’t get them very far.
She could turn herself in, cop a plea deal, try to bring Davidson and the whole crew down. But that was too risky—Tasha would likely be dead before the cops could even read Davidson his rights.
That left only one option.
The last man on earth who wanted to see her.
Thinking of Jared only hollowed out what was left of her insides, filling her with a deep regret, a grief from which she’d never heal. She’d done this to herself, and knew she deserved to suffer for it. But accepting that pain changed nothing—she still had to act fast to keep her and Tasha out of danger, and to help Jared keep his assets safe.
As scared and ashamed as she was, Ari had no choice but to face him.
At this point, winning Jared’s forgiveness—or at the very least, his promise that he’d keep the cops out of this while she figured out her next move—was Ari’s only option.
She just hoped he’d listen to her.
“I need a favor, Tasha. Get your phone.”
Chapter Three
“Good news, people,” Jared said. “Looks like we’ve gotten past the last few roadblocks with Hastings, and things should progress quickly from here on out.”
In the huge, sky-high conference room of FierceConnect headquarters, Jared gave his public relations and marketing staff a report on the latest developments, prepping them for the media campaign they’d soon launch to announce the official acquisition of Baseline, a deal they’d been working on for months.
It was the last of his Friday work meetings, which had run back-to-back since the morning and had somehow kept his mind off the disastrous turn of events in his personal life. But once the meeting wrapped up, Jared was left alone again with his thoughts, his head and heart still reeling over what he’d discovered in Arianne’s bedroom last night.
She’s going to rob my estate.
No matter how many times he’d replayed the events of the past four weeks, he still couldn’t believe he’d fallen for a woman like Arianne Holbrook.
A thief.
A warm and beautiful woman whose absence hurt more than he cared to admit, but a thief nonetheless.
A sucker born every minute. Truly.
Jared ducked out of the office at three o’clock, heading to the Jewish Historical Society on foot. The museum had contacted his assistant Paulina earlier, hoping for a brief audience—something about the planned exhibit of the Whitfield painting he’d recently donated—and Jared had eagerly obliged, canceling a beta review session and sending his staff home to get an early start on their weekend. Soon enough, they’d all be putting in overtime to ensure the Baseline transition went smoothly; he wanted them to enjoy the relaxed atmosphere while they could.
Frankly, Jared needed some time to himself, too. He hoped the meeting at JHS would be quick. After that, his big weekend plans included picking up a bottle of single malt and some Indian takeout, heading back to his penthouse, and losing himself in a haze of booze, carbs, and video games.
At some point, he’d have to decide what to do about the devious woman who’d betrayed him, and the planned robbery of his estate, but not tonight. Tonight, he wanted to get drunk and fight, taking out his very real anger on the very virtual bodies in his favorite game.
Bloody hell.
Thinking of Brawler only reminded him of sparring with Arianne, his brain and his cock at odds about the best way to punish her. He was evaluating the merits of severa
l different options when his cell rang with a call from London.
It was after eight o’clock across the pond; his mother should be in bed by now. He picked up on the first ring.
“Mum? Is everything all right?”
In a breathless rush that left Jared no room to interject, his mother squeezed an hour-long conversation into two minutes, giving him the rundown on both of his parents’ health statuses, various love and career updates pertaining to his six sisters, all of the neighborhood gossip, and finally, the fact that reporters had been phoning the house for a week straight, asking questions about Jared’s personal and business dealings.
Everything else she’d said disappeared in the wake of this latest announcement.
“Which newspapers did they represent?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“The New York Times and the Wall Street Journal, as I recall.” She sounded impressed. “They’re doing profiles on you. That’s quite prestigious, Jared. Your father and I are very—”
“Did you tell them anything? Give them any personal information, any details at all?”
His mother laughed. “Oh, Jared. I know better than that. I gave them your assistant’s number and suggested they give her a bell in New York. I hope that’s okay, love. I didn’t want a repeat of last time, when—”
“You did the right thing, Mum.” Jared pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to clear away thoughts of “last time,” when his mother had laid his personal life bare to any tabloid reporters who’d asked. By the time Jared realized where they were getting so much of their information—details about his childhood and adolescence that his vindictive ex-fiancé wasn’t even privy to—it was too late.
As humiliating as his public breakup had been, it’d really just come down to his own personal pride. This was different, though. This was his business. His livelihood. The livelihood of hundreds of employees who relied on him to keep the company solvent and aboveboard.
Not to mention billions in projected earnings if anything jeopardized the Baseline acquisition.
Bared to the Billionaire: The Complete Series Page 26
