Devoted to Him

by Sofia Tate

  She smirks at me knowingly. “But perhaps something more, shall we say, of a sensual nature?”

  “I love the way you think, Venus.”

  Just as I’m reaching under her sweatpants for her sweet pussy, my cell rings.

  We both groan at the same time.

  I reach over for my phone on the coffee table and see Ian Parker’s name on my screen. “What is it, Ian?” I ask, slightly annoyed.

  “Sir, I’m really sorry to bother you, but I wanted to tell you right away.”

  “And that would be?”

  I can hear him take a deep breath before he speaks again. “I started my own research, analyzing the quarterly reports of the last twelve months.”

  Exactly what I had been doing, but I hadn’t finished yet. Interesting.

  “And none of my numbers match what went into the final copies.”

  My heart starts to beat faster as my pulse races with worry.

  “Are you sure? Didn’t you work on the numbers since you’ve worked for me?”

  “No, sir. This is the first one that Mr. Craig assigned me to. And I found something else. Something that came to me today in an interoffice envelope. I don’t know where it came from because my name was the only one on it.”

  “What?” I demand insistently.

  “You need to see it for yourself, because I’m not exactly sure what it is.”

  I don’t like the sound of this.

  “Send me everything right now, but not to my Berkeley Holdings account,” I tell him hurriedly. “I’ll give you my personal e-mail.”

  I recite my e-mail address to him.

  “Okay, done,” he confirms.

  “Good. I’ll go check right now. Keep me posted. And do not tell anyone you’ve done this.”

  “I won’t,” he promises. “Good night, sir.”

  “Good night, Parker. And thank you.”

  We hang up. Allegra is looking at me, slightly scared. “What’s wrong, Davison?”

  “Nothing. I need to check something on my computer.”

  I start to lift her off my lap, but she sits up, allowing me to rise from the couch. Once I get to my office, I power on my laptop and scroll through my e-mail.

  Ian sent me an Excel file comparing his numbers with the official data from the reports we filed. They’re off. By a huge margin.

  Then I open the other document he sent me. It’s a scan of a prospectus letter on Berkeley Holdings letterhead, dated about eighteen months ago.

  The top of the letter has AN EXCLUSIVE INVESTMENT OPPORTUNITY! GUARANTEED MILLIONS TO BE MADE!

  I quickly scan the letter. Phrases like “bio oil drilling in Louisiana,” “new wells discovered,” and “huge profits to be made” pop out at me.

  When I reach the bottom, only one name is used as the signatory.

  DOMINIC CRAIG, CHIEF FINANCIAL OFFICER, BERKELEY HOLDINGS

  That motherfucker.

  I print everything out and turn off the laptop. I grab my sneakers and wallet from the bedroom, heading back to the living room.

  Allegra instantly sits up from where she is lying on the couch and starts asking me questions. “Davison, what’s going on? Who was that? And what are you holding in your hand?”

  Not now, baby. Please.

  “I gotta go.”

  Her mouth drops as she shoots to her feet. “Are you kidding me? Christ, Davison, what the fuck is going on with you?”

  I step closer to her and kiss her on the forehead. I lean back to look into her eyes. I can’t have this touch you. Touch us. Please, for your sake, let it go, Allegra.

  I turn and head for the door, not daring to turn around because I can’t bear to see the hurt in Allegra’s eyes.

  * * *

  As Charles speeds up the FDR to my parents’ house, I call to make sure he’s at home.

  Ames, our family butler, answers in his crisp patrician voice. “Berkeley residence.”

  “Ames, is my father at home?” I demand from him.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. I’ll be right there. Don’t tell him.”

  “Of course. I’ll be waiting for your arrival.”

  “Thanks, Ames.”

  Charles stops the Maybach in front of my family home in Sutton Square. I rush up to the door, with Ames already opening it for me.

  “Where is he?”

  “His study,” Ames quickly replies.

  I race down the hall and burst through the door. My father is sitting in his leather desk chair with his back to me, looking out the window at our backyard garden. I don’t even think he hears me come in. He’s not yelling or telling me that I should learn how to knock. A crystal tumbler of Scotch is sitting on his desk. Something is off.

  “Dad?”

  “Hello, Davison,” he replies, his voice sounding somewhat dispirited.

  “I need to show you something.”

  He spins his chair around, and I finally see him. He’s not wearing a suit as I expected him to, but a T-shirt and dress pants under a button-down cardigan sweater. His face is drawn and his eyes are sunken.

  I step forward and place the papers in front of him on his desk. He reaches for them, giving them a brief glance. He doesn’t look up at me. I decide to tread carefully with him because I don’t think shouting will get what I need from him, which are answers.

  “Dad, you need to tell me what’s going on.”

  “Sit down,” he tells me in a steady voice, and like the dutiful son, I do as I’m told.

  My father reaches for his drink, takes a long sip, and then begins to speak.

  “Some time ago, Ashton’s father, Malcolm, asked me to go in with him on an investment opportunity. He found out about it from these three businessmen in Chicago who asked if he wanted to go partners with them. They offered him a chance to make a lot of money drilling for bio oil in the South.”

  My stomach begins to churn with unease as my skin starts to crawl. I know what’s coming. I’m not going to say it for him. I want the foul words to come out of his own mouth.

  “But it was all a scam. There was no bio oil drilling. When you walked in on me at the office, Malcolm had just told me that the Chicago partners had ties to the Mob. He swore to me the ties were loose, but he hadn’t done any due diligence. They were still connected to them. And to make it worse, the investment targeted senior citizens. They’d give us their life savings and not get anything in return.”

  “That explains the prospectus letter,” I reconcile.

  “What letter?”

  “Look at the document on the bottom.”

  He pulls out the doc. As he reads it, his face turns red, his jaw clenching tightly.

  “I can’t believe it! Dominic, that fucking bastard!” he shouts.

  “Yeah, and from what I can tell, he’s been embezzling from the company.”

  “What are you talking about?” he asks, genuinely shocked.

  “Ian Parker found discrepancies in the quarterly reports, which he brought to my attention. From what I can tell, he’s been doing it for months. Are you telling me you didn’t know anything about this?”

  “Of course not! Do you think I would’ve approved of this?” he counters.

  I grit my teeth and my blood is boiling with fury when I jump to my feet.

  “Yeah, at this point I do, because you’ve lost your goddamned mind, Dad!” I scream at him. “Do you know how many laws you’ve broken? Jesus Christ, I can’t believe you! Are you that greedy, that desperate for money and power? Did you honestly think you were going to get away with this? Do you understand the shit storm that will fall on me because of what you’ve done? I could go to prison. Not to mention that they’re threatening Allegra.”

  My father jumps to his feet in fury. “Last time I checked, you’re the one who should’ve been on top of this, but instead, you were busy screwing that Italian gold digger!”

  My rage erupts as I grab his glass and smash it against the wall. “Say that to me again! I fucking dare y
ou!”

  He retreats from me, worry reflecting back at me in his eyes.

  Judging by his reaction, my message came through loud and clear. “Good, we understand each other. I just have one thing to say to you. Either go to the Feds and tell them everything or I will. Three days, Dad. Three days and then I’m going myself, with or without you.”

  I walk out of my father’s office and the house without a word to anyone. I signal to Charles to stay put in the Maybach, and he acknowledges me with a nod. I can’t go home yet. Instead, I turn left on Sutton Place South, hitting East Fifty-Seventh Street and heading for Sutton Place Park, which overlooks the East River. I plop down onto a bench and look out across the water to Queens. I try to comprehend everything that just happened, everything that my father just told me. My head can’t stop spinning. The repercussions of his actions and how they’ll affect Berkeley Holdings make me sick to my stomach.

  Suddenly, I need to hear her voice. I need to know that someone as good and caring as Allegra loves me for who I am and not my financial worth.

  When I pull out my cell, I see a missed text from her: If you really do love me, you have a funny way of showing it. I’m going home. Have a good night.

  My head falls back onto the bench.

  Goddamn it, Allegra. Why can’t you just trust me?

  * * *

  Allegra

  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised when I see Davison’s Maybach waiting for me across from Le Bistro when I finish my shift the following night. I ignored his texts all day because I am so frustrated with him and I didn’t want to bring a bad attitude to work. Why is he hiding things from me? That’s not what partners do. And that’s what we are…or what I thought we were.

  I managed to stay professional all night, but I wasn’t feeling particularly social with the staff. I just kept to myself, keeping my eyes on the clock, desperate for my shift to end so I could go home. I knew it would be pointless to argue against him giving me a lift home, so I just slide into my seat when Charles opens the door for me.

  Davison is sitting in his usual spot. The car carries his familiar scent—his spicy aftershave with male sweat, despite the cooled air inside. He finally speaks to me when we near Forty-Second Street.

  “Why didn’t you answer any of my texts?” he demands.

  When I look over at him, his eyes are searing into mine. He is so exasperating. “For someone with two Harvard degrees, you can be so obtuse. Because I’m pissed at you.”

  “Do you honestly think I would’ve ditched you if it wasn’t important?”

  “Then tell me where you went,” I snap back at him. Please just tell me the truth.

  “I had to see my father.”

  Okay. Wasn’t expecting that. “Why?”

  He sighs. “I can’t tell you.”

  I throw up my hands. “Of course you can’t.” I press the intercom in the panel next to me. “Charles, take me home, please.”

  “What the hell are you doing?” he shouts. He turns to the intercom on his side of the car. “Home, Charles. My home. Our home.”

  I know that last reference was directed to me.

  I hear Charles’s voice over the speaker. “Yes, sir.”

  I can’t handle this anymore. I turn to him so I can look straight into his eyes. “Davison, do you remember what Dr. Turner told us about how we need to be honest and communicate with each other for our relationship to survive? So tell me right now what’s going on or you can pull the car over and I’ll get home on my own.”

  His jaw clenches as his eyes grow fiery with anger. “Damn it, Allegra. It’s for your own good.”

  “How is keeping secrets good for me? Good for us? You have to trust me.”

  “I’m just protecting you!” he yells back at me.

  I shake my head. “How is lying to me protecting me?”

  I take a deep breath. I don’t even know if he heard me.

  “Take me home, Davison. Please,” I manage, barely above a whisper.

  A pause, then I hear his voice. “Charles, we’re taking Miss Orsini home.”

  “Very well, sir,” the older man replies.

  I can’t even look at him, staring out the window as the city flies past the car. When we reach Mulberry Street, I allow him to help me out of the door as he always does. He walks behind me until I reach the door of my building. I look into my purse, rummaging for my keys.

  Without warning, his right index finger lifts my chin so he can look at me in the eyes. He softly kisses my lips, then pulls back. “I love you, Allegra. Don’t ever forget that.”

  I still for a moment before his voice stirs me. “Did you find your keys?”

  I lift my hand out of my purse, not even realizing I’ve been holding on to them the entire time. I present them to him in silent reply.

  “Good. I’ll wait until you’re inside,” he says, not touching me again.

  I look up into his emerald eyes, heavy with concern and worry. I peck him quickly on the lips so he knows that I heard every word he said.

  Turning my back on him, I open the door, shutting it firmly behind me.

  When I walk into my apartment, Papa is in the living room, reading a book. “Cara, what are you doing home? I thought you’d be staying over at Davison’s house.”

  I sink down on the couch next to him. “We had a fight. He’s keeping something from me and he won’t tell me what it is.”

  My father lets out a small sigh. “You’re being ridiculous. Did you ever think he has a good reason for doing that?”

  “Maybe he does, but I wish he trusted me enough to tell me.”

  “Then give him the benefit of the doubt. He loves you, Allegra. Don’t punish him for wanting to protect you,” he admonishes me.

  I glance over at my father—my very wise father. I hug him tightly and plant a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll try, Papa. Grazie.”

  “Bene. Now go get some sleep.”

  I peck him on the cheek again. “I will. Buona notte.”

  “Good night, cara.”

  I lift myself off the sofa and head for my bedroom. I collapse onto my bed and mentally review the past twenty-four hours.

  And then I know what I have to do.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Davison

  It killed me dropping off Allegra at her place last night. I didn’t want to upset her further, so I did as she asked me. I don’t want to keep going on like this with her, but I have no choice if I’m going to protect her from the shit storm that my father created. After everything she went through when that scum Morandi kidnapped her, the last thing she needs to know right now is that she’s under threat again because of something that’s happening with my family and me. Dr. Turner is helping her get past everything with their therapy sessions, and I refuse to make it worse for her. I’m not going to tell her anything because it’s the only way to keep her safe.

  Which explains why I look like total hell when I wake up this morning. I barely slept at all, and my energy level is completely depleted. I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands as I pad into my kitchen. I don’t even bother to put on boxers or sweats.

  I left my cell on the counter last night. When I check it, there are no calls or texts from Allegra.

  Fuck.

  I slam the phone down on the granite, not giving two shits if I break the damn thing. I start fumbling around in my cabinets for the coffee filters, shoving one inside the pot. I reach for the coffee from the fridge, but when I open the bag, I pull it so hard that the grinds go flying everywhere like fucking confetti.

  I hurl the bag into the air, roaring in absolute frustration. I lean against the fridge, letting the metal cool my raging body. My head falls back as I attempt to take a deep breath.

  When my heartbeat finally begins to regulate, I hear the familiar ding from my elevator. I take a few steps into the foyer.

  Allegra is standing in front of me, dressed in her favorite Gotham Conservatory sweatshirt, the jean shorts she wore all the time when
we were in Lake Como, and black flip-flops on her feet, her beautiful tanned legs shown off to perfection and her soft brown hair falling around her face.

  Those luminous eyes of hers that I could stare at forever are looking right at me, as if they could see into my fucking soul.

  She only says two words to me. “Make-up sex.”

  Before I can move, she rushes to me within seconds and jumps straight into my arms. With her legs locked around me, I grab her head and slam her lips to mine.

  She tastes so sweet, so delicious. This is my life. She is my life. She is what I savor. She is the sustenance I need to keep going.

  Without releasing her mouth, I rush for the bedroom with her luscious body coiled around me. She is warm in my arms, her delicious coconut scent filling my nose. I can sense her flip-flops falling off her feet behind me as I race down the hallway.

  I plant her down on the floor and start yanking off her clothes, with her unzipping her shorts as I pull her sweatshirt over her head.

  She scrambles onto the bed, positioning herself on her back, her eyes blazing with desire and her legs spread-eagled, as ready, eager, and hungry for me as I am for her. She doesn’t say a word, but she doesn’t have to, because we both want and need the same thing.

  This is going to be raw, primal, and rough, and I can’t wait to be inside her.

  She reaches out to me, silently pleading for my body on top of hers. When I collapse on top of her, her hands wrap around my head, and she plunges her tongue into my mouth. We tangle like that until I feel sated from the taste of her, but I need so much more.

  I slide down to take her breasts into my mouth, pushing them together so I can lick them simultaneously. I bite down on the succulent flesh as her moans grow louder. “Oh God…Davison…don’t stop…just don’t stop…please,” she begs. I can hear the desperation in her voice, dying for that release only I can give her.

  I grunt in reply, frenzied with lust, wanting to taste every inch of her.

  My tongue leaves a trail of worship behind as I move down her body, licking around the circle of her navel. Finally, I reach her pussy, glistening in the morning sunlight.

  I dive into her with my tongue, first swirling it around to lick her clean, then full-on with my mouth, devouring her like a beast feeding on its kill, except Allegra is alive and breathing, and all mine.