by Virna DePaul
He leaned back, contemplating the question. He doubted it. She’d never once given him any reason to think she knew his past, and he paid well to have the Internet scrubbed clean of anything he didn’t want out there. And he certainly didn’t want the world to know his once tenuous connection to Davies.
But he and Cara had been trying to figure out who would want to hurt them. Maybe they both had been coming at it from the wrong angle. He’d assumed any threat was coming from paparazzi. Someone looking to make some cash.
What if this had something to do with Carl Davies?
Now that he knew there was a connection between him and Cara, he would need to take a look from that angle. He wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to find that his stepfather was still dipping his toes in the shady side of the pond.
But why would Davies come around now, all of a sudden?
And why pick on Cara, too?
Chapter 12
Despite the adventures of the night before, Cara made it home in time to shower and change and get into work and behind her desk an hour early. She even had her coffee in hand. She booted up the computer as she shrugged out of her light morning jacket. Taking a sip of her coffee, she leaned back in her chair and let her mind wander back to last night. She really shouldn’t be surprised at how intensely she’d responded to Brandon in bed. He’d alternately been sweet and dominating, giving and then taking, and taking hard. Dominating, almost.
He couldn’t have gotten where he was at such a young age if he didn’t have a dominant personality.
What she was mostly surprised at was herself. She’d had dreams of being so sexually satisfied before, mostly since she’d met Branden, but she’d never really thought she’d be able to let go of her control to actually let her body respond in such a visceral, wild way. Or that once she did, that she would love it as much as she had.
But even more surprising than how sexual her body had reacted was the way her mind kept returning to thoughts of him—memories of how his eyes would light up or go dark…how earthy and spicy his scent was…how he’d shown a vulnerable side when he spoke of his sisters…
Iris would say she was crushing on this dude, and big time.
Was she?
She forced herself to pull up the spreadsheet she needed to work on today. She worked through the morning without interruption, and at eleven-thirty her cell phone rang. It was Iris, wanting to meet for lunch at the food cart outside Cara’s office. After Cara promised not to be late, she hung up and dove back into the spreadsheet for another half hour, then finished up the report. She stood, then as she came around the side of her desk, she knocked her cell phone off. She bent over to grab it, and just to prove that the universe was conspiring against her or that fate just liked to fuck with her, Branden walked in while she was bent over.
“The view in here is much nicer than in my office,” he said.
She stood up quickly and smoothed down her skirt, as if he hadn’t seen everything she had to offer last night and then some.
Feeling herself blush she said, “I dropped my phone. What’s up?”
Looking amused, he said, “I came to take you to lunch.”
She felt a girlish rush of pleasure flow through her, then tamped it back down. She needed time to think. To process. To back away from the ecstasy that had been the night before and rationalize all that had happened. “I’m sorry, but I made other plans.”
He frowned. “Cancel them.”
Cara felt a tickle of annoyance in the pit of her stomach. That was a clear order. She’d enjoyed being taken hard last night, but what happens in bed should be different from what happens in the workplace. “I appreciate the offer to take me to lunch,” she said slowly, “but I don’t want to change my plans.”
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To lunch.”
He folded his arms. “You know what I mean.”
She folded hers, too, and said, “Yes, I do know what you mean. I’m just confused as to why it would be your business.” God, she sounded like a shrew, but keeping an upper hand felt important. Years ago, she’d watched as her father caved in front of public meetings. That would never be her.
“And I’m confused as to why it would be such a big mystery. Do you have a date?”
Wait—was Branden was jealous? The girlish warmth tickled her tummy again. Not what she needed right now. She struggled to hang on to her frustration, needing Branden to understand she would not be walked all over. “I’m meeting my friend Iris downstairs for a hot dog. See, no mystery. Now your turn.”
He shrugged. “Now that we’re not worried about people seeing us together, I just thought you’d be safer with me.”
She wasn’t certain she wanted to be seen out with him. Wasn’t anywhere near ready to take that step. But wait, what had Branden said about her safety? “Is someone threatening my safety?”
“No, not physically. But people will be less likely to make snarky comments to you if you’re with me.”
“You’re right. I doubt they’d even dare. But you can’t follow me around protecting me twenty-four-seven.”
“Why not?” he asked. He asked that a lot. She didn’t doubt he’d asked it thousands of time in his life—assuming that many people had actually had the balls to tell him he couldn’t do something.
“You just can’t. I have a life. I’ve been standing on my own two feet for quite some time now. I can handle it.”
He raised an eyebrow like he didn’t believe her, and she wondered if it was the statement that she had a life he doubted or the statement that she could handle things. Either thought riled her. She’d worked hard ever since her father’s unjust accusation, his subsequent death, and the collapse of her mother and ultimately her brother. Yes, she’d enjoyed being taken hard, against the wall, last night, but that didn’t mean she was some weak, fluttery woman batting her eyelashes at any man who offered to hold open a door for her.
She could open her own doors. She didn’t need Branden Duke to do it for her. “Iris is waiting for me,” she said firmly, jutting her chin in the air as she stalked out of the room.
He begrudgingly stepped away of the door, but just enough that it would be a tight fit when she passed. Controlling her? Or just wanting to touch her again? She wanted the latter but was afraid of the former. She turned her back to him and she could actually feel his breath on the back of her neck as she squeezed by. Didn’t matter—she had to make her own way. She couldn’t let a man—even Branden Duke—take control of her life. She’d fought too long for independence. To never allow anyone have such control over her that she’d fall apart if the control was abused. Twisted.
That’s what had happened to her dad, and look where that got him?
Six feet under, a grieving widow, a son with schizophrenia, and a daughter who was wound so tight she felt like she could explode.
She stewed about the encounter with Branden all the way down in the elevator, and by the time she met Iris in front of the hot dog cart outside, she was practically livid.
“Hey girl! How is life as a financial wizard treating you today?”
“It sucks,” Cara snapped, then regretted her tone. It wasn’t Iris’s fault her world was in upheaval.
“Uh-oh. What happened?”
“Two words,” Cara told her. “Branden Duke.”
Iris ordered her hot dog and Cara got a salted pretzel with cheese. They walked down Broad Street to Bowling Green and sat on a bench near the Charging Bull. It was surrounded by a group of Chinese tourists posing for pictures. The sound of their Mandarin language was like background music, reassuring. Settling.
Cara realized her tension had abated, and focused her attention on her friend. “What are you doing in Manhattan in the middle of the day? You usually avoid this area like the plague. You’ve said you’re allergic to dollar bills.”
Iris grinned around a mouthful of hot dog. “I’ve got an interview at one of the restaurants on the Street.”
&n
bsp; “Oh good. You’ll make a lot better tips down here than you do in Brooklyn.”
“Yeah, I like my cheap regulars, but I can’t live off them,” Iris said with a grin. “So what’s up with you and Branden?” she asked. “Is it work, or personal?”
Cara sighed, dipped her pretzel into her cheese cup, took a bite, and sighed again.
“Oh my God! You had sex with Branden Duke!”
“Shh!” Cara said, looking around. “Why don’t you just get up on the bull’s backside and announce it to the entire Financial District?”
Lowering her voice, Iris said, “I’m sorry, but you did, didn’t you?”
“Maybe, but I’m beginning to think it was a mistake.”
Iris laughed. “When did it happen? I want details.”
“Iris!”
“Not a blow by blow. Eww! I mean how did it happen? Who initiated it? Was he romantic?”
Cara thought about that. Absolutely. But there were other words to describe Brandon Duke.
Passionate. Sexy. Erotic.
Even a little vulnerable
She shivered just thinking about the night before and said, “Yes, he was romantic. He actually invited me up for dinner. But I passed. In fact…” She hesitated. Iris would share all sorts of details about her dates with Cara, even going into explicit detail about the sexual activities she engaged in, but Cara was typically more circumspect. Although, given her decision the evening before, after those two jerkoffs had made their crude statements, to go for what she wanted, maybe it would be good to tell Iris about her activities. That’s what she wanted to do, to tell the truth. Share a little of herself with her friend.
“I actually initiated it. Jumped his bones the minute I showed up at his apartment.”
“Go Cara! I knew it was about time your dam broke.”
Her insides quivered. Fluttered. Sent electric shocks throughout her body as she recalled the fabulous sex the night before. But then Branden’s dominating attitude from earlier swept into her mind, and her body chilled. “Maybe I should have listened to my gut and kept him a fantasy, though.” She stared at her half-eaten pretzel.
“Why? Was sex that bad?”
“Last night was…fabulous.”
“You didn’t spend the night, did you?”
She blushed. “Um, yeah, I kind of fell asleep.”
“In his bed? With him there? Wait—were you in his arms? Did you have morning sex?”
“No morning sex—we both had to get to work. And yes, I spent the night, in his bed, in his arms.”
“And the sex was good, right? Just looking for a little clarification here. You usually don’t give me this much detail.”
Cara looked off into the distance. “It wasn’t just good, it was…delicious. He took me places I never even knew existed.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“It’s just that…today he was a little controlling. Demanding. Maybe he thinks because I slept with him he all of a sudden has rights.” But the memory of him sweeping the hair out of her face as she was dressing charged into her mind and wiped away the thoughts of how he’d demanded to know where she was going for lunch. Could her one thought—that he was jealous—be true? The warm and excited quivers in her tummy came back.
She glanced over and noticed Iris was smiling at her.
“What?”
“You’ve got it bad for this guy.”
“What? I just finished telling you how arrogant he is being—”
“Yeah, but it was that light in your eyes when you said it. And you were smiling to yourself. I’ll bet you anything you were remembering having sex with him…and liking the memory. Admit it, Cara. It’s just me here. You have feelings for him. This isn’t just about sex.”
Oh, God, could her friend be right? But Iris lived on the edge of passion. Logic and planning weren’t even on her radar. How could she be unbiased here? “I’m not sure what it’s about, honestly. He affects me like no other man ever has, that’s for sure. But my life has also gotten a lot more complicated since I fell asleep on his couch. The sex was amazing. He’s incredibly sexy. He can even be sweet and funny. But things can’t continue.”
“Why not?”
She struggled to come up with an answer. “Because he’s my boss.”
“He was your boss when you slept with him.”
“Maybe an error in judgment.”
“Was it?”
She sighed. “He makes me feel like a schoolgirl. All boy crazy and crush focused. But it’s just a crush. These feelings are only because he made my body reach nirvana. But honestly? It isn’t that Branden is my boss, it’s that I can’t risk getting into a situation where I end up leaning on someone. And with Branden, I could. It would be easy to let him take control in all ways. Too easy. And I’d get screwed in doing so.”
Iris shook her head. “You’re crazy, you know. That’s what falling in love is all about—being vulnerable. Leaning on someone else. You don’t lose yourself in the process—you grow.”
“That’s just not me, Iris, and you know it.” Trying to change the subject, Cara said, “How’s the cute neighbor?”
“He’s…cute,” Iris said. She didn’t sound enthusiastic, though. It made Cara think about the man she’d seen at Branden’s this morning. Alex something or other.
“I saw a man this morning and the first thing I thought was Iris.”
“Thanks. Do I need laser hair removal or what?”
Cara laughed. “No, I mean he looked perfect for you. Like someone you could have fun with. He was all tatted up and buff and from what I could see, really attractive. He just had this kind of manly aura around him.”
“Well, it’s probably a good thing I wasn’t there. I’m trying to avoid those types. They’re the ones that get me in trouble.”
“True,” Cara said. She finished the last bite of her pretzel and took a long swig of her water before saying, “But then again, sometimes a little bit of trouble can be fun.” And of course, she was thinking of Branden again.
“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying.”
Branden pulled his gaze away from where he was staring out his corner office window and looked up at Deena.
“I was thinking of something else. What did you say?”
She leaned back in the guest chair in his office, simultaneously crossing her legs and arms and cocking a brow. “Where in the world is your head today?”
With Cara. How he’d missed her at lunch. How he wanted her again, her naked body posed under him, quivering and waiting for him to plunge into her. Her face, turning to him, eyes luminescent, lips soft and curled, skin glowing…
“I’m listening now.”
“Jeannette turned in her applications to Harvard, Stanford, and UCLA yesterday. Bethany got the lead in an Off-Broadway play that shows in three months and you’re to buy the whole front row of seating. Rachel may or may not be a lesbian. Our mother is an idiot and I paid her divorce attorney’s bill this month, which means you need to pay it next month.”
He cocked his head. “Lesbian?”
“That’s what you focused on?”
Looking back out the window, he said, smiling, “I wondered when Rachel brought that girl Lili home for Christmas. They seemed rather close. All snuggled up on the couch and stroking each other’s hair. I hope she knows she can tell me and I’ll be supportive.”
“You always are,” Deena said quietly. “When I married Gerald, you weren’t sure if he deserved me, but you were on my side the whole way. Walked me down the aisle, even.”
He turned and smiled at her. “No man deserves one of my sisters, but Gerald is a great husband to you. I was proud to walk you down the aisle. But I’m assuming you have more to tell me than an update on our family.”
She crossed a leg and frowned. “Larry Gills. He’s a stockbroker. He worked at D&M almost twenty-two years before your acquisition. He used to be one of Max’s biggest producers. He brought in new clients before most people we
re out of bed in the morning and he put the stocks to bed each night.”
“And then?” Branden asked.
“And then he talked his clients into investing in the wrong stock. In his defense, it seemed like a solid investment, but you know how fickle this business can be. Overnight, his personal clients with the firm lost millions. Most of them pulled out and Max took a big hit financially. He blamed Gills pretty publicly for it all. Max is a good guy, but he has a big mouth. He kept him on, but Gills never really found his stride again. He’s a bit of a pariah around here. His commissions became few and far between and he ended up losing his house and his wife went with it.”
“So you think Gills may have had a bone to pick with Max and he decided to do that by means of insider training? I find that a little far-fetched.”
“That’s good, because that’s not what I was saying, which you would have known had you let me finish.”
Deena was nothing if not blunt. That bluntness had often gotten her into trouble with stepfather number one, who had no problem resorting to force to make his kids step in line. There were many times Deena had needed her older brother to have her back, and Branden had done just that. Thankfully, his other sisters’ fathers weren’t physically abusive, but their various addictions—ranging from drugs to gambling to sex—had still made his sisters’ lives hell.
Branden had done what he could—making sure the girls were well fed, dressed, safe, and warm, even if he had to sacrifice himself.
Branden gave Deena a nod to go on.
“Larry took one of the young brokers under his wing about a year ago. The kid’s name is Rafe Sampson, and from what I hear, Rafe attached himself to the old man, telling him he wanted to learn the business from someone who had been around awhile and really knew how things worked. I suppose that was what made him seem suspect to me in the first place. The kid. Why would an up-and-coming young broker, a graduate of an Ivy League college, attach himself to the oldest broker with the most tarnished reputation in the firm?”
“He needed a fall guy?”
“That was my thought. I’m going through the hard drives of both computers now, but I’m guessing that anything we find will be on Gills’s and not Sampson’s.”
