Web of Lies
A Brook Brothers Novel
Tracie Delaney
Contents
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Books by Tracie Delaney
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
FROM MY HEART
Books by Tracie Delaney
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Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright © 2019 Tracie Delaney
Edited by Emmy Ellis - Studioenp
Edited by Delphine Noble-Fox
Cover art by Tiffany @TEBlack Designs
Cover Photography - CJC Photography
Cover Model - Jonny Sobel
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in uniform or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Books by Tracie Delaney
The Winning Ace Series
Cash - A Winning Ace Short Story
Winning Ace
Losing Game
Grand Slam
Winning Ace Boxset
Mismatch
Break Point - A Winning Ace Novella
Stand-alone
My Gift To You
The Brook Brothers Series
The Blame Game
Against All Odds
His To Protect
Web of Lies
Irresistibly Mine Billionaire Duet
Tempting Christa
Avenging Christa
Chapter 1
Dex held her breath as the ping from the elevator reached her, and her leg bounced so violently she banged her knee against the underside of her desk. The second Thursday of every month—i.e. today—was her favorite day of the week. She’d take extra care with her hair and makeup and be sure to wear a nice dress and heels, just in case. Not that he ever noticed.
It had to be him, although he was early today—unusually. Punctuality wasn’t Nate Brook’s forte, a characteristic that irritated the hell out of her boss, obnoxious Hollywood agent extraordinaire, Bernard Sullivan.
Nate didn’t care, though. And Bernard couldn’t do a damn thing about it because Nate was hot property. Every agent in town wanted to sign him. Dollar signs flashed in front of their eyes at the mere thought of the potential Nate brought for huge paydays, adding to their already overflowing coffers.
It had taken Nate almost five years to really make it when, two years earlier, he’d hit the jackpot, landing the lead part in a new television show. It was already on season three with at least two more seasons commissioned. Think Walking Dead or Friends, not that those two shows had anything in common with the one Nate headlined. Their similarity lay in the huge success both had achieved. The agents of those stars were still buying holiday homes in Barbados from the residuals that continued to flood in from the shows’ global distribution rights.
The elevator doors opened, and Nate strode out. Dex froze. Her pulse jolted, same as always when Nate fixed his piercing blue eyes on her. Goddamn, that man was fine, from the jut of his jaw to the soles of his feet, and the confident way he held himself. She couldn’t get enough. As he reached her, a delicious tingle crept up her spine. To Nate, though, Dex might as well be part of the furniture for all the notice he took of her whenever he came to see Bernard. His disdain wasn’t a surprise. Someone like Nate, on a steep upward trajectory to superstardom, only had starlets on his arm. Girls who knew how to keep their mouths firmly shut on the red carpet—and wide open in the bedroom.
Normally Nate gave a curt nod in her direction then entered Bernard’s office without knocking and, starstruck, she’d mumble a pointless, “Go right in, Mr. Brook,” after him. Except today, normal service wasn’t on the agenda.
She scrambled to her feet and stood in front of the door to Bernard’s office. He’d given her strict instructions he didn’t want to be disturbed—by anyone. And Bernard wasn’t the kind of man who took kindly to being ignored. She’d survived his vicious temper for six months, significantly exceeding the tenure of her predecessors. Bernard had sacked four assistants in the last year alone, and at twenty-two Dex was by far the youngest, yet she’d outlasted them all. She’d managed this amazing feat by being polite and non-combative—in stark contrast to her true self. She really needed this job. She did not need to make it easy for Bernard to make her unlucky number five.
“He’s got someone with him right now, Mr. Brook. If you’d like to take a seat.” She haplessly waved her arm at the row of pristine leather chairs to her right. No faux leather for Bernard. His clients expected nothing less. “Can I get you a c-coffee?”
Dex’s face heated. It was the most she’d ever said to him.
He turned his attention on her which set off a delicious flutter in her abdomen. Stunning was a shitty description for someone as perfect as Nate, but Dex had never been very good with fancy words. For one brief moment, she allowed herself to imagine what those full lips would feel like slanted across her own, how protected she’d feel, wrapped in Nate’s muscled arms. How she’d bet he knew exactly how to wring multiple orgasms from a woman.
His eyes narrowed. “No,” he snapped at her offer of refreshment. He reached around her to grab the doorknob.
Dex shifted to block him, her heartbeat thrumming in her ears. Conflict wasn’t something she enjoyed at the best of times—although when necessary, she didn’t shy away—but going up against the object of her obsession? One-way ticket to pukesville.
“I really am sorry, Mr. Brook, but I can’t let you go in there. Mr. Sullivan won’t be long.”
Those captivating eyes narrowed farther. Ignoring her instruction, he made another move to get around her. She dodged, blocking him again, her face burning. Nate moved closer, his body near enough for her to feel the heat pouring off of him. Her attention dropped to his chest. Lean, hard, his black T-shirt clinging to him, not an inch of material wasted. Like most actors, Nate’s body was as important to his career as a computer or pen would be to a writer. A key tool of the job. The industry expected—no, demanded—their
leading men and women to take fitness seriously. There were exceptions of course, like with anything in life, but they were few and far between.
“Is that an order?” he asked softly, dipping his head, bringing those lips so near to hers. His tone held a hint of mirth, but one look in those eyes told Dex he wasn’t joking. She forced a swallow down her throat, painful as barbed wire.
“No, I-I,” she stammered.
“Good.”
Nate’s hands gripped her waist. He lifted her out of the way as if she weighed nothing more than a feather. Actually lifted her. His touch branded her skin, leaving a scorching burn in its wake. The majority of Dex’s dreams consisted of being touched by Nate, but nothing prepared her for the reality. Her legs wobbled as her feet made contact with solid ground once more, and she put a hand on the wall to steady herself. Nate’s lips twitched. Damn the man. He must know the effect he had on women, and he was reveling in it.
Before Dex could find her voice—or her legs—Nate had pushed open the door to Bernard’s office.
Dex sucked in a breath, her eyes burning at the scene inside.
Nate laughed.
Dex most certainly didn’t.
“Fucking hell, Bernard,” he said, laughing, while Dex averted her eyes from the sight of her boss’s flabby white ass as he scrambled to his feet and pulled up his pants. The girl he’d been screwing didn’t even blush. She simply smoothed her skirt in place and jumped down from the desk. It didn’t escape Dex’s notice that the girl wasn’t wearing panties.
“You kept me waiting for this?” Nate sauntered into her boss’s office and gracefully sank into a chair, his long legs splayed wide, hands laced behind his head.
“Hey!” the blonde said, although her annoyance was as fake as her boobs.
Bernard turned his furious gaze on Dex. “I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed,” he snapped, his voice colder than having a bucket of ice water poured over her head.
Dex didn’t get to answer. Instead, Nate interjected with, “I’ll bet you did,” a deep chuckle rumbling in his chest.
Bernard ushered the woman out of his office and, with another enraged glance at Dex, slammed the door in her face.
Shit.
* * *
“What would Marjorie say,” Nate said, unable to keep the humor out of his voice.
Bernard’s wife would kill him if she found out and, as Marjorie held the purse strings, as well as Bernard’s balls, he might find himself sleeping rough on Santa Monica Boulevard if she got wind of this escapade—sans his ’nads. Nate had no doubt the blonde wannabe wasn’t the first starlet Bernard had buried his cock in, but she was the first Nate had caught him with. And by God, he was going to turn this situation to his advantage.
Bernard gave him a horrified look. “You won’t say anything, right? I mean, she meant nothing. Another grabby little whore after representation for a talent that doesn’t exist. I only did what any red-blooded male would do and took what was on offer.”
Nate hid his disgust behind the hint of a smile. He loathed men like Bernard who used their power to abuse those desperate for a helping hand in an industry as corrupt as Hollywood. Still, Nate was about to deliver a valuable lesson to Bernard and his minuscule cock—one he’d do well to remember.
“Well, that depends,” Nate drawled, rubbing his chin.
“On what?” Fear turned Bernard’s voice thick and heavy, and a sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead, despite the super-efficient air conditioning.
Nate rose from the chair and headed over to the corner of the office. He opened the cupboard where his agent kept the good bourbon and poured himself a drink.
By the time he’d strolled back to his chair and sat back down, Bernard had schooled his expression into one of nonchalance. He didn’t fool Nate, though. Bernard was the best agent in town, but he wasn’t a nice man. He only did things which benefited himself, and Nate had no doubt if he hadn’t already landed the lead in The Liar, a title that was a brilliant irony to his own sorry excuse of a life, Bernard wouldn’t have wanted to know.
As it was, Bernard had approached Nate during the filming of season one and made promises about a better pay deal. He’d delivered, renegotiating Nate’s salary with the studio, which resulted in a significant increase from what his agent at the time had managed. But it wasn’t benevolence. Bernard had also insisted on a thirty percent cut of the higher wage which was significantly more than Nate had paid his previous representative—not to mention a shitload more than Bernard charged his more established clients.
Nate had been patient, bided his time. Life had taught him that patience usually brought rewards. And right here was his.
He sipped his drink and eyed Bernard over the rim of his glass. “Ten percent,” Nate said.
“Of what?” Bernard scratched his flabby cheek, the burst blood vessels caused by years of alcohol abuse giving him a red, blotchy appearance.
“That’s your new fee.”
Bernard’s eyes widened as he caught on. “You have got to be joking,” he choked.
Nate shook his head. “Your time of bleeding me dry is up, Bernard. I want the same deal you give to every other established actor on your books.”
“Without me, you’d be earning two-fifths of fuck all. I deserve my cut.”
“And you’ve had it. For almost two years. Ten percent,” Nate repeated. “Or Marjorie gets a phone call.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Nate laughed, the sound hollow and without mirth. “Don’t push me. It would be a mistake.”
Bernard leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, resting them on his heart-attack-waiting-to-happen stomach. “You might think you’re a hotshot in this town, but I can ruin your career like that.” He clicked his fingers.
Nate placed his palms on Bernard’s desk and bent forward. “Try it,” he said quietly. “Here’s something you don’t know about me, Bernard. I’m not like the majority of power-hungry people in this town. Sure, I like acting. And I like the money. But the fame? Nah, that does nothing for me. So if I don’t work in this town…” Nate shrugged. “Who gives a shit? I’ll go get a job on Broadway. My whole family is in New York. Maybe it’s time I went home.”
Not that he had any intention of doing such a thing. The less time he spent in the company of his brothers the better. Still, Bernard didn’t know that.
Bernard’s face turned puce. He might be a dick, but he could do the math. Thirty percent of nothing was nothing. The better deal was to take ten percent of something. Nate settled back in his chair, fully expecting Bernard to negotiate. It wouldn’t do him any good. Nate wasn’t bluffing. He’d already made up his mind he wouldn’t sign back on after the five seasons he’d committed to wrapped. Two more years in this crazy town, and that was it. Of course, he wouldn’t tell Bernard that. Let the fat bastard think he had years of screwing Nate ahead of him.
“Twenty,” Bernard said.
Nate kept his face straight and shook his head. “Ten.”
“Fifteen.”
Nate yawned. “I don’t have all day.”
Bernard’s chin lowered to his chest, and Nate knew he’d won.
“Fine,” he spat. “Ten percent.”
Nate rose from his chair and stuck out his hand. “Nice doing business with you, Bernard. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”
Bernard shook his hand, although he looked as though he’d rather rip it off.
Nate left the office, whistling. He pulled the door shut behind him. Bernard’s PA—Lex? Tex?—was sitting behind her desk, clicking away on a keyboard, her face still burning from catching her boss with his pants down. Literally. Nate gave her a wide grin.
“He might need a drink. Make it a strong one.”
Heading for the elevator, he couldn’t stop laughing.
Chapter 2
Dex took a deep breath and, on unsteady legs, got to her feet. What had gone on between Bernard and Nate? From the looks of the latter, he’
d come out of the conversation on top if his broad smile and cockier-than-normal swagger was anything to go by.
She took two steps toward Bernard’s office, her mind already made up that she wouldn’t mention what she’d seen. It was better to ignore the situation—even if the sight of her boss’s huge pumping ass and half-flaccid cock was burned onto her retinas. What she wouldn’t give to be able to unsee that horrendous sight.
Before she could push open his door, however, it swung open, and Bernard stomped out. He pointed a pudgy finger in her direction.
“You’re fired.”
Bile rose in Dex’s throat, and prickles appeared along her spine. “Bernard, please don’t. I need this job. You know I do. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Damn right it won’t. I told you not to let anyone in, and what do you go and do? Let Nate fucking Brook barge his way past, and now, because of your ineptitude, I’m seriously out of pocket.” Another jab of a finger in her direction. “So you can go flip burgers for all I care.”
“You can rely on my discretion,” she said, completely breaking her own rule to never mention what she’d seen. After all, desperate times called for desperate measures.
It was a mistake.
Bernard’s nostrils flared, and the noise of his breathing increased as he turned cold, flinty eyes on her. “Oh, I know that, missy,” he said through clenched teeth. “My power in this town spreads far and wide. You’d do well to remember that.” With every word, he bent farther over her, and it took all of Dex’s willpower not to recoil from his foul-smelling breath. And then he straightened. “But I’m not mean-spirited.” Dex almost choked at his bare-faced lie. “I’ll give you two weeks’ severance.” He turned away and, as he reached the door to his office, he glanced over his shoulder. “Now pack up your stuff and get out.”
Web of Lies: A Brook Brothers Novel Page 1