by E. L. Todd
“70.”
“Close.”
“You were off by a decade.” I pulled the folder closer to me but didn’t open it.
She took a few more sips, savoring the taste. “How’s your dinner?”
“Good.”
“I had his lamb chops last night. To die for.”
I didn’t eat lamb.
She studied me, eyes similar to mine. “Everything alright?”
I shrugged as I ate. My sister and I butted heads, disagreed on a lot of things, but she was the only family I had in the world, so she was like a mother to me in some ways, even though we were close in age. I shared things with her because I didn’t have anyone else to share them with. She did the same with me, telling me about the men in her life like she would tell our mother.
She held her glass and took a sip. “You’re brooding bad.”
“I always brood.”
“Yeah, but this is worse than usual. Did Clint piss you off?”
“He always pisses me off, but no.”
“Then talk to me.”
I hadn’t told her about Carson. I’d told my playboy friends, but they didn’t seem to care or understand. Monogamy was like the plague, especially after my nasty divorce. “I’ve been seeing this woman…”
“Oh.” She nodded slightly. “And that’s bad because…?”
It was bad for a lot of reasons. “I like her.”
“It’s bad that you like her?” she asked for clarification, as if she’d misheard me. “Dax, not every woman in the world is like Rose. There’re good people out there, and I think it’s great that you’re giving someone a chance. This is the first time I’ve ever heard you mention anyone, so she must be special to you.”
“She is.” She was a breath of fresh air after being around egotistical, greedy people all day long. The grass was always greener on the other side, but her yard was like an oasis. She wasn’t stupid and airheaded. She was smart…really smart. Her intelligence was so sexy to me.
“Then that sounds like great news.”
“Well…she doesn’t know who I am.”
She propped her chin on her hand as she looked at me. “I don’t understand what that means.”
I looked at the Manhattan lights as I spoke. “Anytime I meet a woman and she knows who I am, she treats me differently. It’s not real. I’m tired of that. So, when I met Carson, I lied…”
“About?”
“Everything.” I turned back to her. “She thinks I’m just a financial advisor at the company. I have this little apartment I take girls to so they think I’m average and kinda on the poor side.”
She shook her head slightly. “Dax…”
“I’ve met a few girls that way, and it’s a completely different experience. And with Carson, it’s been really nice.”
“So, what was your goal? Were you looking for a relationship?”
“Not necessarily. I just got really tired of all the bullshit. It’s the same kind of girls over and over…”
“Well, have you ever tried to date a normal girl as yourself?”
“Yes. They’re either obsessed with my wealth or they’re uncomfortable by it. This way, I’ve been able to meet girls who see me as me. Some like me, and some don’t. But it’s real.”
“How is it real if you’re lying?” She drank from her glass.
“It just gives me a genuine opportunity to connect with someone. And I really connect with Carson. I don’t love her. I’m not ready to have an intense relationship. But…I want to keep seeing her. We’re exclusive. But the longer it continues, the more guilty I feel about the whole thing.”
“Well, you are lying.”
I closed my eyes and sighed. “I’m not married or have a disease or something. Fundamentally, I’m the same person, whether I have a small apartment or a penthouse. That isn’t a lie. My bank account is the lie.”
“But still, she thinks you’re sleeping in that apartment when it’s actually a fuck pad.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s not what it is.”
“She might feel that way.”
I really had no idea how she would feel about it. She was smart, so she would probably understand my point of view. She researched people in my world, so she probably understood the lifestyles of the wealthy. She’d probably understand why I wanted to hide it until I got to know her better.
“If you like her, come clean. Tell her the truth and explain why you lied. If she finds out some other way…” She shook her head. “She might feel used, you know?”
I nodded.
“What kind of field is she in?”
“She’s an investigative journalist for the New York Press.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Wow. So, she’s a smart cookie.”
“Very smart.”
“And she hasn’t figured out you’re a big, fat liar yet?”
Sometimes it seemed like she knew something was off, but she gave me the benefit of the doubt, which made me feel worse. She was actively trying to trust me…and I was lying to her.
Fuck, I was an asshole.
“Dax, talk to her. If you explain yourself, I’m sure she’ll understand.”
I nodded. “Yeah…I hope so.”
“And wow.” She drank from her glass then licked her lips. “You’re really going after a whole different kind of woman now.”
“You haven’t met her.”
“Just the fact that she has such a serious job is a huge change of pace for you. I mean, Rose is a fucking ditz, and the rest of the women I’ve seen you with are mindless Barbie dolls.”
“Rose isn’t a ditz. She wouldn’t own a piece of the company if she were.”
She sighed in annoyance. “True.”
Rose was a manipulative cunt.
“You think I’ll meet this woman sometime?”
I shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes after I tell her. She may not stick around.”
After a final drink, her glass was empty, so she ran her fingers along the edge, smearing her lipstick. “You know, I don’t say this much, so don’t get used to it. But you’re quite the catch, Dax. You’re good-looking, kind, understanding, funny. I mean, you probably shouldn’t have lied, but she’d be lucky to have you.”
I smiled, looking at my sister.
“What?”
“It’s just nice to get a compliment from you.”
“It’s not a regular thing. Don’t get used to it.” She looked away. “How long have you been seeing her?”
“I met her about a month ago.”
Her eyes widened. “Dax…that’s a long time.”
“I know.”
“You need to tell her—sooner rather than later.”
Twenty-Three
Carson
The club was heaving with activity. Loud music over the speakers, girls dancing on the floor, men in the booths with their knees obnoxiously far apart. I sat at the bar and finished my margarita as I stared at my target, both of his arms around a woman in a short dress. With greasy black hair and a large nose, he spoke to his crew, a flashy watch on one wrist.
I’d done this a million times, so I wasn’t scared.
I finished my drink then marched over there, in a short dress and heels, blending in instead of making it obvious I was a journalist out for blood. I arrived at the area and sat on the circular table facing Omar. I crossed my legs and flipped my hair.
At first, he smiled, like I was another notch on his belt, but then he looked past the big hair and red lips and recognized me. “Bitch is back.” His arms slacked on the girls, and he gave me a ferocious scowl.
“Honey, I never left.” I flipped my hair again to be obnoxious. “I’m always right behind you. So, you want to talk here or in private?”
“Write about me again, and I’ll kill you.”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded. “You said that before, and yet, I’m still here.” I cocked my head and continued to stare. “So how about you just give me what I want, and I’ll—”
“Get her out of my face.” He waved to his men.
One man moved to my left, but before he could stop me, I pulled out the little knife tucked between my breasts and pointed it right at his balls, which were level with my head. “Touch me, and you’ll have bloody balls.”
The guy didn’t lay a hand on me.
“How did you get that in here?” Omar asked.
I shrugged. “Probably the same way you got that gun in here.” I knew he was armed even if I couldn’t see it. I jabbed the knife at the guy so he would back off. “Now, let’s be civil here. All I want is information.”
“Information is everything.”
“Couldn’t agree more. So, you want to do this here or in private?”
“Sure.” He dropped his arms from his girls. “In private.”
I tucked the knife down my top again and rose to my feet. I walked ahead, heading out the main doors and past the line of people trying to get in. I stopped on the sidewalk and crossed my arms over my chest.
He kept walking. “You wanted to talk? Let’s talk.” He stepped into the alleyway.
I was brave but not stupid. I pulled out my knife and hid it in my palm. I joined him in the alleyway, away from the line of people that could see us. “I know you’re shipping everything through the barges at the port—”
His hand lashed out and aimed for my throat.
My knife was quick, slashing him down the arm as I kicked him. “Omar, you’re better than this.”
He turned around, gripping his bloody arm.
I held the knife in my hand, the tip dripping with his blood. “Look, all I want to do is talk. Not reenact Mortal Kombat. But I’ll finish you if I have to.” I deepened my voice like the narrator in the video game. “Finish him!”
“You fucking bitch.” He lunged at me, grabbing my wrist with the knife and throwing it down.
I kicked him right in between the legs. “Honey, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
He bowed down to grip his balls but then grabbed me by the neck and prepared to shove me into the wall.
“Fuck off, asshole.” A man grabbed him and threw him hard to the ground.
Omar slammed into the asphalt and groaned in pain.
I stared at his back, seeing the man who was over six feet and in a black suit. He looked familiar, with that dark hair and webs of veins on the tops of his hands.
Omar got to his feet, clutching his bloody arm.
The man turned with his movements, keeping his body in between us, acting as a shield as Omar left the alley and turned back to the club.
“I appreciate what you did, but I had it under control—”
“Under control?” He turned around and faced me, with brown eyes, a stern jaw, and that shadow along his chin and part of his cheeks.
My eyes widened. “Dax? What are you doing here?”
He ignored my question. “You could have gotten yourself killed. What the hell are you thinking?”
“I’m doing my job.” I flicked the knife down so the blood droplets would leave the blade. Then I tucked it back into the sheath at the front of my dress. “Sometimes, things don’t go according to the plan, but I’m prepared.”
His hands moved to his hips, and he stepped closer to me, his eyes shifting back and forth in a rageful stare, like he didn’t know how to process what just happened. “Getting killed is not part of your job.”
“But getting information is, and people don’t always want to talk.”
“Then you leave it alone,” he barked. “An article is not worth getting killed over.”
“I disagree.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
Now he stared at me incredulously.
“I knew what I signed up for when I took this job. I don’t need a lecture.”
“I think you do.” He raised his voice, growing louder with every passing second. “What if he had a gun?”
“He did, but he didn’t use it. See? I know shit.”
He gripped his skull and released an angry sigh before he forced himself to calm down. “What if I hadn’t been here?”
“You’re being dramatic. There are people like fifteen feet away. I could have screamed, and they would have run over here. I promise you, I had it handled.”
“He was about to choke you.”
“And I was about to stab him right between the ribs. Seriously, I had it covered.”
He sighed and dropped his shoulders, clearly irritated with me. “You’re alright?”
“Not a scratch.” I moved closer to him, dropping my arms to embrace him. My hands moved under his jacket and around his waist, and I leaned in close to kiss him.
His kiss wasn’t affectionate right away, a little cold. But once my mouth massaged warmth into his, he got into it, slipped his fingers into my hair, and deepened the kiss.
“I’ve never seen you in a suit.” My hands moved up his chest, playing with his tie. “Sexy.”
He smiled slightly at the compliment, his eyes on my lips and then the rest of my body. “Red is your color.”
I nodded to the dumpster farther down. “You wanna?” I played with his tie, my eyes on his sexy mouth, wanting to get frisky now that the adrenaline had passed.
“I don’t have a condom.”
“What?” I stuck my hands into his pockets to check. “Why?”
“Why would I bring condoms to a club if the woman I’m sleeping with isn’t there?”
“Hmm…good point.” My fingers stroked his tie.
He stared down into my face, watching me touch him.
“I mean…I guess we could skip it.” I lifted my gaze and looked at him again, wanting him now that he was in my grasp, seduced by that kiss, the way he intervened even though I didn’t need help. The whole thing was sexy, and damn, his shoulders were nice in that suit.
He stared at me for a while, his arms around my waist while his hand squeezed my ass. He pulled me closer and hugged me a little bit, like that was what he wanted more than anything. But his words contradicted that. “Let’s go back to your place.”
“Really?” I asked. “Did you just turn down sex?”
“No. We’re having sex. Just not in an alleyway.” He grabbed my hand and walked with me out of the alleyway and to the sidewalk. “And with a condom, because that’s what you said you wanted before you were high on adrenaline and whatever else you’re on right now.” He walked past the club and the line of people and kept walking.
“So, what were you doing here? Why are you in a suit?”
He stared straight ahead for a long time, as if he didn’t hear a word I said.
“Dax?”
“I went out with some colleagues.”
“So, you wear a suit to work?” Because one time, he went to work in jeans.
“Sometimes.” His mood was noticeably down, like he was angry all over again.
“Why are you—”
“When you shake down your sources like that, do you ever get anything accomplished?”
“Sometimes.”
“Have you ever gotten hurt?”
“I mean, a black eye here and there but nothing serious.”
“Does Charlie go through this?”
“No. He does different kinds of articles, more low-key.”
“By choice?” he asked.
“No. He wants to work up to a higher position, but it takes time.” Charlie and I were friends but also colleagues. Whenever I moved up higher than him, he never seemed upset about it. He was always happy for me and never behaved otherwise. By nature, he wasn’t a competitive person.
“Does it bother him that you got promoted before he did?”
“No. He never says so, at least.”
“That’s pretty big of him.”
“Yeah, he’s a great guy.”
We walked a few blocks and then entered my building. We reached the apartment and stepped inside.
Charlie was on the couch, eating cereal even though it was nine in the evening.
“You were supposed to go to the store today.”
“I know. I had to chase down a lead.”
Charlie looked me up and down. “Dressed like that?”
“It was in a club.”
“And you brought Dax with you?” he asked in surprise.
“No.” Dax turned serious. “She got into a fight with a guy in the alleyway, and I pulled him off her.”
Charlie didn’t look surprised by the news at all. He’d heard all my stories. He took another bite.
Dax raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t concern you?”
“She’s a crazy-ass bitch, man. You have no idea.” He scooped his spoon into the bowl and placed it in his mouth, his eyes on the TV.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I grabbed Dax’s hand and pulled him down the hallway. We went into my bedroom, and I pushed his jacket off his shoulders, watching it slide to the floor. My hands worked his tie then the buttons of his shirt.
He watched me get him naked, his eyes on me, but his usual look of desire absent.
“What?” I undid all the buttons then pushed that off his shoulders. I pulled the tie from around his neck.
He continued to stare, continued to hold his silence.
He usually spoke his mind, and when he didn’t, I realized he was difficult to read. I ran the tie through my fingers. “This looks secure, right?”
His eyes immediately went to my fingers.
“Tie me to the headboard.” My hand went to his slacks, and I got his belt undone, his button open. Then I pushed everything down, revealing a cock that was hard and ready to go. I returned the tie to around his neck, and I pulled him to the bed, seeing his eyes darken, the excitement tightening his features.
I lay back and raised my hands to the bars of my headboard, my dress rising up to the tops of my thighs, revealing my black thong underneath.
He stood next to the bed and stared at me, his hand automatically wrapping around his dick, his thumb swiping the drop that oozed from the tip. He was never sexier than when he was turned on, like right now, looking at me like I was the most irresistible thing on the planet.
He moved on top of me then wrapped the silk tie around my wrists before he secured them to the wooden bar. He looked at me as he did it, like he’d done this a hundred times and didn’t need to watch his movements.