by Naima Simone
Not that she believed it. She couldn’t. Yes, Trevor could be merciless and cut-throat. She’d increasingly seen more and more evidence of this, personally and professionally, in the last few years. And it worried her. The glimpses of the brother she’d revered and adored as a child and teen were becoming further and further apart.
But it was those glimpses that gave her hope. That reminded her that underneath the often cold demeanor existed a good man. A man incapable of the things noted in that defaming file.
And bottom line... She loved him.
Love and loyalty demanded she believe in him.
“What do you want?” she asked, forcing a calm into her voice that was a farce. Questions, thoughts and fear whipped through her in a chaotic gale.
The man who’d fed her and provided her protection and light in a blackout didn’t sit across from her. No, this wasn’t the man who’d introduced her to such pleasure she still felt the echo of it weeks later. This man... He was a stranger. A cold, calculating, beautiful stranger.
“You.”
The blunt announcement doused her in a frigid blast, stunning her.
“Excuse me?” she rasped.
He couldn’t mean...?
No. No way.
He didn’t want her. He had to mean something else.
But God, her body was having one hell of a time getting the message. You. Heat prickled at the base of her spine, and desire wound through her veins like a molten stream. A barrage of memories assaulted her—the sound of his ragged breath in her ear as he thrust into her body, all that dark, thick hair tumbling around his lust-tautened face, his whispered “moonbeam” as he stroked her damn skin... Her breath evaporated in her lungs, and she struggled to keep any hint of arousal from her face.
“I want you.” He leaned forward, his midnight gaze pinning her to her chair. “More specifically, I want you to be in love with me.”
The images in her head splintered like glass, dousing the passion-kindled flames inside her. She gaped at him. Couldn’t help it. After all, it wasn’t every day that she sat across from a lunatic.
“Are you crazy?” she demanded, clutching the edge of the table as if it were the only thing keeping her from leaping out of her chair. “I don’t even like you. And we’ve never met,” she continued, ignoring the memory of skin pressed to damp skin that flashed across her mind’s eye. “How could you believe you love me?”
He flicked a hand, the gesture impatient, dismissive. “Of course I don’t love you. And I don’t need your affection or professions of an emotion that is nothing but an excuse for fools and liars to behave badly.”
Shay shook her head, confused. “But you just said—”
“Pretend,” he interrupted. “You’re going to pretend to be deeply enamored with me, and our whirlwind relationship will be as fake as that sentiment.”
“You are crazy,” she breathed. “That’s ridiculous. Why would you even propose something like that?”
“Why?” he repeated, that damn eyebrow arching again. “Your brother.”
She barked out a harsh crack of laughter. “My brother? Do you really think Trevor cares if I’m in a relationship with you?” Hell, he might be happy. Yes, he and Gideon were business rivals, and Trevor had been trying to acquire the other man’s company for years, but her brother would probably consider it a coup for his sister to date such a successful and wealthy man.
But for the first time since sitting down across from her, Gideon smiled. The curling of his sensual lips was slow, deliberate...and menacing. “Oh yes. Your brother will care. And he’ll understand.”
“Another enigmatic message, Mr. Knight?” She waved a hand, frustrated. “I’m too old for games. Whatever your play is here, make it plain.”
“I’ll make this very plain, Shay,” he said, using her given name even though she hadn’t granted him permission to do so. His voice, as dark and sinful as his eyes, caressed her name like a long, luxurious stroke. It was damn near indecent.
“You can pretend to be my significant other, and convince your brother that you are mine. Or...” a steely edge that was both lethally sharp and smooth entered his voice “...I can let the truth about Leida Investments drop into your brother’s lap. Imagine his fury when he realizes the secrets his sister has been keeping. And then, while that little bomb detonates, I will release the information in that file to not just the SEC but to every news outlet and journalist I have access to. And believe me, the list is long. As would be the jail sentences your brother and his precious senator would face for everything they’ve been up to. What effect do you think the meltdown of your family name and company will have? How many people will want to accept funds from a woman associated with a man whose name will be synonymous with financial scandal and fraud? Even the desperate will think twice about that. So both of you would be ruined, if everything in that dossier leaks. That leaves us at an impasse, Shay.”
He paused, and the import of his words—no, his threat—sank into her like the realization of a floundering person being swallowed by quicksand.
Slow but no escape.
“And the choice is yours.”
Seven
Gideon inhaled as he entered his mother’s Lincoln Park home, and the sense of calm that always settled on him when he was with his family wrapped around him like a warm embrace.
Though his mother and sister had lived in the six-bedroom, seven-bathroom home for only four years, it was home because they were there. It was as much his sanctuary as his own downtown Chicago condominium. As the sound of his mother and Pat Benatar singing about love being a battlefield on her ever-present radio reached him, he shook his head, amending his thought. No, it was more of a haven for him.
Because family was everything.
Striding past the formal living and dining rooms with their soaring twelve-foot ceilings, and the sweeping, curving staircase, he headed toward the rear of the house. His mother might have initially balked at him purchasing this home for her and Olivia in one of Chicago’s wealthiest neighborhoods, but there’d never been any doubt about how much she adored the airy, state-of-the-art kitchen. With its wall of windows, restaurant-style ranges and cooktops, top-of-the-line appliances, large marble island and butcher block and dual workhorse sinks, Ai had instantly fallen in love. And it was in this room that he usually found her.
Like now.
Ai stood at the stove, still clothed in her professor outfit—elegant gray pantsuit with crimson blouse and hair in a loose bun at the nape of her neck—and barefoot. Her slim body swayed back and forth to the eighties’ rock anthem, and Gideon stifled a snort as she perfectly executed an arm-and-hip dance move he recognized from the classic MTV video.
He gave her a slow clap.
She whirled around with a gasp, brandishing a tea strainer like a club. “Gideon,” she scolded, splaying the fingers of her free hand over her chest. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” She replaced the strainer in the waiting cup of steaming water and shot him a look over her shoulder. “I warn you, if I go, all of my money has been left to your grandmother’s Maltese puppy.”
Chuckling, he crossed the room and pulled his mother into a hug. Her familiar scent of gardenias greeted him like a childhood friend. Only with his family could he be Gideon Jian Knight, the oldest son of Ai Knight, former cafeteria worker who busted her ass to provide for her children and earn her PhD in educational studies at the same time. With them, he could lower the guards he’d erected between him and the rest of the world, especially those who greedily grasped for money, connections, time or sex from Gideon Knight, CEO of KayCee Corp.
He jealously guarded his moments with his family.
Zealously protected them.
“That’s fine,” he assured her, with a quick kiss to her forehead. “I have the very best legal department, and they would be capable of breaking th
at will.” He smiled as she swatted at him. But then he noted the two cups on the gleaming countertop, and his amusement faded. “How is she?” he murmured.
The light in his mother’s eyes dimmed. “Better,” she answered. She sighed, turning back to preparing the hot tea. “She’s still sleeping more than I like and hasn’t left the house since coming home from the hospital a week and a half ago. But...better.” She checked the strainer in the second cup. “I was just about to take this up and sit with her for a while.”
“I can do that, Mom. You obviously just arrived home.” She didn’t have to continue to work as a social sciences and history professor at the University of Chicago. He was more than willing to provide for her, as she’d done for him and Olivia. But Ai Knight wouldn’t hear of it, and Gideon was proud to have one of the most loved professors at U of C as his mother. “Go upstairs, relax and I’ll take care of Livvie.”
“Thank you.” She turned, smiling softly and extending her hands toward him. He enfolded hers in his, squeezing them. “But no, I want to spend some time with her before I grade papers. Although she always loves to hear you play. Maybe you could bring your guitar by sometime this week.”
“I’ll do that,” he agreed.
His mother had been responsible for him first picking up the instrument. She’d found a battered acoustic Fender at a garage sale, and from the second he’d held it, he’d been enamored. Though extra money had been almost nonexistent during his childhood, she’d still found a way to pay for lessons. No one outside the family had ever heard him play, because it was for him. His peace. His way to lose himself and get away from the stresses of running a multimillion-dollar tech company.
Ai cupped his cheek, giving it an affectionate pat before lowering her arm. “Now, not that I don’t enjoy you dropping by, but is everything okay?”
“Yes. There’s something I do need to speak with you about, though.” He propped a hip against the island and crossed his arms over his chest.
She studied him, then nodded, copying his pose. “Okay. What’s going on?”
“I had a...business meeting last night,” he said. “With Shay Neal. Trevor Neal’s sister.”
Surprise widened his mother’s eyes. “I didn’t even know he had a sister,” she whispered, then shook her head. “Why, Gideon? What could you possibly have to discuss with her?”
“Our common interest,” he said. “Her brother.”
“Gideon,” she murmured, tilting her head to the side. “What did you do?”
Meeting his mother’s gaze, he relayed his conversation with Shay, including his revelation of all he’d dug up on Trevor, the ultimatum he’d delivered and her refusal to give him an answer.
“What are you thinking, son?” she asked, worry crowding her gaze. “She’s innocent in all this.”
Innocent. His fingers curled around his biceps, tightening even as blood pumped hot and fast through his body. Innocent was one word he wouldn’t have associated with Shay Neal.
He’d done his homework on her before ambushing her at the restaurant. Twenty-five years old. Graduated with honors from Loyola University’s Quinlan School of Business with a bachelor’s in finance and entrepreneurship and a master of business administration. A member of Women in Business and International Business Society. Currently worked as vice president of the Social Development department at RemingtonNeal. And from what he could tell, the position was nothing but a fancy term for event coordinator, and definitely underutilized the education she’d received. All this information could be found on her social network platforms or the company’s website.
Only a deeper dive below the surface uncovered her ownership of Leida Investments. The degrees and obvious intelligence had made her interesting. But this—the company she owned in secrecy—fascinated him. This society princess who organized brunches and galas was a mystery wrapped in an enigma. And anything he couldn’t dissect and analyze he mistrusted. Tack onto that her last name, and he wouldn’t dare to blink around her, vigilant of the knife that might slide into his back in that flick of time.
Still...nothing, not his caution, his preparation or even the pictures included in his private investigator’s file, could’ve prepared him for the impact of Shay Neal face-to-face.
His grandmother owned an antique locket that she’d brought with her from China. Inside was a black-and-white picture of her older sister, who’d died in childbirth. In the image, his great-aunt had been composed, stoic. But in her lovely features—in her eyes—there glimmered emotion, vitality. Life. It emanated through the aloof expression like dawn breaking through the last, clinging shadows of night.
And staring at Shay Neal had been like gazing upon that faded photo. Yes, she was gorgeous. No one could deny she was beautiful—the refined bone structure with high, proud cheekbones, the patrician nose with its flared nostrils, or the full curves of a mouth that belonged on a pin-up model and not a demure socialite. And he couldn’t deny that just for a moment, his wayward, rebellious mind had wondered if her gleaming golden brown skin was as butter-soft as it appeared.
But it’d been none of those features that had drawn him. Fueled an insane impulse to drag his chair closer and discover what scent rose from the corner where neck and shoulder met. Had his fingers itching to pluck the strings of his guitar and find the melody that would encapsulate her.
No, it was the intelligence, the spark, the fire in those arresting hazel eyes.
It made him mistrust her even more.
And then there was the niggling sense of familiarity that had hit him the moment he’d sat down at her table. As if they’d met before... But like he’d done last night, he dismissed the feeling. If he’d ever met Shay Neal, no way in hell he wouldn’t remember.
“She’s a Neal, Mom,” he said, shoving thoughts of her—of the unsettling effect she had on him—away. “She doesn’t have clean hands.”
“That’s probably the same logic Trevor employed when he went after your sister,” she pointed out, and the words struck him in the chest, burrowing into his heart.
“I’m nothing like him,” he ground out, lowering his arms and curling his fingers around the edge of the marble top. “He stalked Livvie, lied to her, used her, then tossed her aside like yesterday’s trash. I’ve been completely up-front with Shay, laying my intentions out and offering her a choice. Trevor stole Livvie’s choice from her.” He broke off, tipping his head back and deliberately cooling his rising temper. “You might not agree with my methods, and I’m sorry for that. But I didn’t do anything when he damn near broke my sister, because you both asked me not to. I can’t let it go this time. I’m not going to allow Trevor Neal to continue mistreating women. By the time I’m finished with him, he will have nothing left, and no woman will fall victim to him again.”
It was the guilt that drove him.
Because it was his fault Trevor had sought out Olivia in the first place. If not for their mutual hatred and ongoing feud, she would’ve been safe.
“Gideon.” His mother shifted forward, once more cupping his cheek. “You’re right. I don’t agree with your methods. I believe they will more than likely backfire, and not only will an innocent woman be hurt, but you will, too, son. If you have a conscience—which I know you do—there’s no way you can’t be affected by this path. And I wish you would end it now before this goes too far.” She sighed, her gaze searching his. “But I also know you. And from the moment you refused to be born on your due date, I figured out you’re stubborn. I’m not going to change your mind, I get that. So just...please. Be careful.”
“Don’t worry about me. I have everything under control,” he assured her, hugging her close.
She didn’t reply, instead squeezed him tighter.
He hated disappointing her, but nothing, nothing could dissuade him from his plans. Not her disapproval. Not Shay’s reluctance and refusal to give him a decision.
/> He had one purpose. To bring down Trevor Neal.
And hell couldn’t stop him from accomplishing it.
Eight
“Trevor, the gala is a wonderful success. You should be proud. I’m certain your parents would be,” Senator Julian Reus praised, pumping his future son-in-law’s hand.
I don’t know how you can say that, since you never met either of them.
Shay mentally winced over the snarky comment echoing in her head. God, she really wanted to like the influential man who would soon be part of her family. But he was such a...politician. Charming. Affable.
And phony.
Good thing she never voted for him.
“Thank you, sir.” Trevor smiled, then slid an arm around Shay’s shoulders. “I wish I could take the credit, but it belongs to Shay. She’s the reason we’ve already surpassed the donations from last year.”
Pride glowed like an ember in her chest, and for the first time that evening, a genuine smile curled her lips.
“Thank you, Trev,” she said, wrapping an arm around his waist and briefly squeezing.
“Next year, it’ll be even more of a success, with Madison by your side. I’m sure she will be more than happy to step in and help organize this special event.” Senator Reus announced his daughter’s involvement in Grace Sanctuary as a foregone conclusion.
“Of course I will, Daddy,” Madison agreed, tilting her head back expectantly, and Trevor obliged her with a soft, quick kiss on the lips. “Shay and I will make a wonderful team.”
