“With what you said. Spite and jealousy, BB,” he said simply. Plainly. “We’re going to drive her crazy with thinking you’ve replaced her.”
“What do you mean replace her?”
“I’m in need of some new arm candy.”
My ears must be full of wax because they’re deceiving me. “What?” I choke out.
“If we’re going to get your sister to come back, we’re going to have to give her a reason. You, Sayer, are that reason. And that means we need to appear together. In public.”
“And why would I help you?”
“I can give you what you want.”
“And what do you think I want?”
“To live without expectations. To be alive.”
I press my lips together, not denying it. He’s right, it’s like he was in my head earlier. He’s not just asking me to help him find my sister. He’s giving me an opportunity to seize. He could help me be alive, take away the sting of being numb.
Still, I can’t give in that easy. I have to make him work for it a little more. “I don’t have time to run around the city with you doing God knows what. In case you didn’t know I’m about to graduate with my master’s.”
“I’ll work with your schedule.” He makes it sound so easy. That I’m not about to sign my life away to him for an unpredictable amount of time.
No matter how tempting Noah’s smoldering eyes are behind those glasses, this is going to end badly.
Either by his hands, my hands, or worse—my sister’s.
I bite my lip and ever the opportunist, Noah jumps on it.
“Think about this, Sayer. Of all the times your sister made your life miserable.”
I do and it’s not a pleasant trip down memory lane.
She might not be the best sister, but we were always taught by our grandfather that family matters.
Conflicting emotions grip me as Noah waits for my answer.
I shouldn’t want what he’s offered, but I do. With an unsteady breath, I nod. “I’ll help you. On two conditions.”
He snorts. “What makes you think you’re in any position to negotiate?”
“Because I’m the only shot to finding my sister, right?”
He doesn’t say anything but the tick in his jaw speaks volumes.
I’m right.
“This is only going to work if I’m cooperative. Which is only going to happen one way.”
“Well, please. Don’t hold me in suspense any longer.” Sarcasm. “Tell me what these conditions are.”
Ass. “I want your word that you’ll protect me from her when she comes back to town.” Because if I do this and it works, my sister won’t be coming for Noah. She’ll be gunning for me.
I need an insurance policy.
“Fine.” He gives a clipped nod. “What else?”
“You don’t hurt her.”
He sits up. “You don’t get to make that call.”
“I do when I’m the bait you’re using.” I grab my notebook and rip out a piece of paper. “You’re not going to hurt my sister. You’re going to get what she took from you and that’s it. No vendettas, no torturing. If she wants to walk after, then she does.”
I’m not going to willingly throw my sister to the wolves. Not when I love her in that ingrained family way even if I don’t like her.
Noah watches me for a moment. “You know she wouldn’t do this for you, right?”
I do, but the roles aren’t reversed and my conscience won’t let me do this any other way.
He regards me in a thoughtful manner and I’m trying to make sense of it when he nods. “Okay.”
Two syllables. One word.
Okay.
“Just like that?”
He nods.
Just like that, I have the word of a dangerous man on my side.
“How do I know you’re not going to screw me over?”
Noah leans across the table. “Are you planning on screwing me over, Sayer?”
“No.”
After what feels like an eternity of me staring into the dark depths of Noah’s nonexistent soul, he nods. “Then you have my word I’ll protect you from your sister when she comes back.”
If I’ve learned anything from my father, a prominent lawyer, it’s that verbal contracts only last as long as the time it takes to say them. Uncapping my pen, I furiously scribble on the paper I ripped out.
By the time I’m done writing the most pathetic contract in the history of ever, making the details of our arrangement clear, I slide it to Noah, who takes his time reading over it.
“Would you prefer I sign this with my blood?” he asks when he’s finished.
“That’s not necessary,” I tell him. “A simple pen will do.”
He reaches over to my side of the table and takes the pen from my hand. His fingers brush against mine and leave an electrical current in their wake, shooting up my arm.
After it’s signed, he slides it back over to me.
“Now what?” I ask while I fold the contract up and stuff it in my bag.
He pushes away from the chair. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
Noah extends a hand toward me. “To get started on drawing your sister out.”
I should be worried, maybe even scared. But I’m not. And that’s what scares me the most as I place my hand in his, giving myself over to the unknown.
Sayer Brooks.
Blonde hair. Gray eyes. Five foot seven.
And that’s it. Those three facts are the only things that have stayed the same with her in the last six years.
Where did the fifteen-year-old wallflower go?
In her place is a twenty-four-year-old sharped tongue woman.
As she walks next to me, with her shoulders back and confidence in her steps, it becomes clear. Sayer Brooks isn’t the same little girl she was when she left.
I spent a lot of time in the Brooks’ mansion as a teenager. Dating the delinquent daughter, nothing pissed Harlow’s parents off more than seeing me hang around the pool smoking a joint or with Harlow lounging between my legs.
It was fun back then. When nothing mattered and Harlow and I were a means to an end.
Users, we relied on each other. Harlow wanted to keep her reign of being the bad Brooks and I wanted a distraction from the growing numbness inside of me.
But somewhere along the way, Harlow started to want more. More of my time, more of me. More than I was willing to give her. I broke things off around the time Sayer was sixteen, but I still kept coming around.
Harlow didn’t mind. As long as I hung out with her, she was content, but if she caught me in a room with Perfect Sayer, as Harlow liked to refer to the younger Brooks, she’d go ballistic.
Possessive and jealous even though we weren’t together anymore. I was Harlow’s, not Sayer’s. She wanted Sayer to have nothing she did.
And suddenly, I had another way to fight the numbness.
I started to play a game. A game where I’d actively search out Sayer, hunting her down in her own house.
Sometimes I’d find her in the kitchen in her prep school uniform drinking sparkling water, her plaid skirt an inch or two shorter than what was permitted on campus with her knee-high socks askew.
Sometimes I’d find her in the pool house wearing a barely-there bikini. She was still a minor, but her body was anything but childish. It took everything I had in those moments to hold myself back.
I knew she had a crush on me. It would’ve been so easy to walk up to her and take what I wanted, knowing she’d give herself over to me without a clue of what that really meant.
But no matter what bullshit truth is spewed about me around this gossip whore of a city, I don’t have any jailbait tendencies. I never laid a hand on Sayer, but Harlow never knew that.
She’d find us and start screaming her head off. One time she even broke a priceless crystal vase in a fit of anger.
Messing with Harlow always distracted me from all the shit that swam around
in my head. But what distracted me even more was Sayer. The innocence in her gray eyes as she stared up at me, the way she clung to my every word like I was her salvation. And maybe I was. I knew she didn’t have that many friends.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped seeking out Sayer to mess with Harlow and started going to her for me. To hear her laugh, they sounded like little bells that made me feel a little lighter. To talk about her day, how empty she felt on the inside. It mirrored what lived in me.
What we had was simple. It was mundane. It was enough.
Sayer wasn’t the sun brightening my day, she was the stars that hung around the moon. The night sky was dull without her. I felt dull without her.
And then she left. Leaving me with Harlow.
For six long years. Now that she’s home, I want her back.
Harlow leaving is a pain in my ass, the ledger she stole can ruin me. Ruin all that I’ve built, all that was left to me. But it’s the perfect excuse to get close to Sayer.
She was right when she said she was the only person able to help me do this. There’s no one that gets under Harlow’s skin like her sister.
“Where are we going?” Sayer asks as we walk the streets of the city.
I don’t answer. She can find out when we get there.
Apparently, that doesn’t work for her.
After a couple feet of us walking without me acknowledging her, Sayer stops, making me as well.
We’re still holding hands.
If I let go, I have a suspicion she’s going to bolt and I’m not in the mood for any chasing tonight.
“We need to lay down some ground rules.”
I only raise one eyebrow, knowing it annoys her when I do.
Case in point, she glares, squeezing my hand. It’s kind of cute she thinks that could hurt me. “I’m serious, Noah.”
“The floor is yours, Brooks.”
“You have to be honest with me.”
Am I missing something here? “I’ve been pretty straight forward with you thus far.”
“But when I ask you a question about where you’re taking me and you don’t answer, it’s hiding something from me.”
Well someone tightened her morality compass this morning.
“That it?” I ask.
“No. I’ve been making a list in my head of all the things we need to iron out that I think we should discuss.”
Of course she has.
Bored with just standing on the street, I tug on her hand and set off for our intended destination. She can talk as she walks.
Sayer digs her heels on the sidewalk. Dig all she wants, the only thing she’s going to achieve by doing that is ruining her shoes.
“Would you just walk for fuck’s sake,” I growl, growing annoyed from dragging her dead weight behind me. “We’re going to a restaurant, nothing scandalous is going to happen.” I give her a look. “Unless you want it to.”
She huffs, falling in step behind me.
When we get to the restaurant, the maître d’ is waiting for us.
“This way, Mr. Kincaid.” She leads us through an empty restaurant until we’re at the best table in the place. Which is always reserved for me.
As Sayer sits down, she watches the maître d’ as she checks me out. But what Sayer doesn’t understand, it’s not in a way that speaks of appreciation, attraction. It’s a look that searches for opportunity. People always want something from me.
I chuckle as she walks away, liking the way Sayer’s so easily riled up. “Jealous, Baby Brooks?”
“No.” She rolls her eyes in an exaggerated flourish. “More annoyed that anything. What if we were on an actual date?”
I grin. “This isn’t an actual date?”
She levels me a flat look. “We both know this is a business arrangement.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun.”
“That” —she points at me— “is exactly what I’m talking about. None of that.”
“None of what?”
“That” —the finger is now moving in circles in front of my face— “flirting you’re throwing my way.”
I lean across the table and in a filthy, hushed tone I tell her, “Oh you innocent little thing. This isn’t flirting. I haven’t even gotten started.”
A blush dusts the tops of her cheeks as I move to recline in the seat. Satisfied.
Before Sayer can find words for a retort, our waiter comes over to pour us a glass of their finest wine. He leaves the bottle in an ice bucket on the table.
When he walks away, I raise my glass to Sayer.
Skeptically, she raises hers. “What’re we toasting?”
“Us.”
Her eyes widen.
I add, “And our agreement.”
Her eyes go back to their regular size. “You brought me here to celebrate?”
“I brought you here because I’m hungry. Now, I know your mother taught you proper etiquette, Sayer. Clink your glass with mine.”
She does, hesitating before taking a small sip. Keeping my eyes locked on hers, I down half the glass.
Sayer looks at everything but me. From the menu to around the empty restaurant. “Why is there no one else?” she mumbles, as if to herself.
I answer anyway. “Because they’re technically closed. They stayed open for me.”
She digests the words. “How does it feel?”
“How does what feel?”
“Having the entire city ready to do your bidding?”
“Powerful.” I think she asked not expecting an answer, so I shock the hell out of her by doing just that.
Her mouth parts, making me hone in on the plumpness of them. Little pillows waiting to be used.
I can think of a few things I’d like to do with them.
Not yet, I remind myself. I have to ease her into that, which if her words from earlier are any indication, she’s drawing the line there. Lucky for me, I’m very persuasive. Even when pitted against the stubborn will that is installed in all Brooks members.
I’ve waited a long time to have Sayer Brooks tied to me, I have to be smart about this.
Shifting in the chair, I clear my throat. “What stipulations did you want to add to our agreement?”
I don’t bother to point out if she had more to add, she shouldn’t have written the bullshit “contract.”
Folding her hands on top of the table, Sayer sits up straighter. “I have two.”
I hold back a groan. If Harlow was the slacker in the family, Sayer is the overachiever. “Well, go on, Brooks.”
“First, I need you to be upfront with me. On everything. If I’m going to help you, I don’t want to be blindsided.”
Amending her speech in my head to: “she can know whatever benefits her.” She doesn’t get to know everything. She can’t.
But I can tell her enough to keep her satisfied without jeopardizing everything else.
“Okay.” I nod. “What’s the next.”
She blinks. “What?”
I smirk, enjoying that I keep surprising her. It’s only fair. Since she’s been doing the same to me from the moment I found her at my club.
“Your second stipulation.” I tilt my head. “Actually, this is your fourth. You’re being greedy with my generosity.”
“This is you being generous?”
“Would you rather I not give you anything you’re demanding?”
“My second requirement. Right.” She nods. “Absolutely no touching. No flirting. I know we’re going to have to pretend in public for people to see, but I’d like to request we keep the physical contact to the bare minimum.”
I take a sip of wine. “If I was a more sensitive man, I’d be heartbroken that you don’t like me.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re a heartless man,” she says. “Do we have a deal?”
I’m not a PDA person. But with Sayer I find myself wanting to touch her, to be near her. She’s so soft and full of light, a stark contrast to my dark.
&nb
sp; “We have a deal,” I tell her when the waiter shows up to take our order.
She might want this now, but I’ve seen the covert looks she gives me when she thinks I’m not looking. She still wants me.
And I want her.
By the time Harlow comes back, mark my words, I will know what it feels like to be between the legs of her little sister.
After dinner, my watch goes off with a text. Reading what Reeve sent, I frown.
“Something wrong?” Sayer asks. Her tone is almost hopeful, like if I have to duck out she can go home.
Typing out my reply, an idea forms.
Smirking, I look at her. “C’mon, we’re going to stop number two of the night.”
She watches warily as I get up from my chair and walk to her side of the table. With my fingers wrapped around the top of her chair, I pull it out.
“Where are we going?” she asks when I give her no choice but to get up.
“To the casino.” Wrapping her hand around the crook of my elbow, we walk out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk.
She throws her head back and groans to the stars.
“Regret agreeing to this yet?” I mock.
“I regretted it as soon as we left the library.”
My laugh is the only sound exchanged between us on our walk to The Underground.
Heathen’s Hell was my first solo venture within my company, the business I backed on my own. But The Underground is my legacy. For a lot more than people know.
I don’t only deal in money and contracts, but secrets.
Secrets are my favorite thing to take.
Unfortunately, we’re not going to the casino for fun. Reeve’s text was about one of our members refusing to pay off his debt before leaving. Now I have to go handle the problem.
It’s not our fault that he’s a shitty player at cards.
My original plan was to take Sayer home after dinner, but why not fucking kill two birds with one stone and bring her along.
Then her old classmates and parent’s friends who are there can see her. And they’ll talk. They always talk.
Which is what I want. The more people who see us together, the more of a chance it has to get back to Harlow. Wherever the fuck she is.
It’s seven blocks from the restaurant to The Underground and Sayer’s steps slow the closer we get. I take her through the back entrance, leading her to the gambling hall. She doesn’t need to see anything else in the manor.
Under the Lies Page 6
