Web of Lies: A Brook Brothers Novel

by Delaney, Tracie

  Nate gave her a sideways glance. “I could. But I’d be lying.”

  Dex covered her face with her hands and groaned out an, “Oh, Christ, no.”

  “Relax,” Nate said. “I’ll do all the talking. In five minutes, you’ll have your job back.”

  Dex wanted to scream at him, “What if I don’t want my job back?” It wouldn’t be a complete lie. She didn’t want her job back. Especially after Bernard had been so foul to her, let alone the fact she’d never be able to forget the image of his ass pumping up and down as he’d heaved over that girl.

  Yep, she definitely didn’t want her job back—but she needed it.

  Dex expelled a resigned sigh. Reading people was a specialty. She’d known Bernard was a sleaze at her interview, but she’d been confident she could handle him. And she had. Even when he’d propositioned her within her first week on the job. She’d politely but firmly turned him down while pandering to his ego. She made it all about her professionalism. Of course Bernard was attractive… she’d lied. Of course she’d be interested if they weren’t working together, but she made a point of never dating people she worked with. He’d lapped it up and the wet kiss he’d planted on her cheek had been the last time he’d touched her. She’d scrubbed her entire body that night, rubbing her skin raw.

  Nate, though, was an interesting character. He was a man who did precisely as he pleased. If he’d decided they were visiting Bernard at midnight, then his course was set. There would be no diverting him from that. But Nate only cared about number one. So, the fact he’d decided to treat her like some sort of charity case had her confused. What was his game? He wasn’t interested in her sexually, she was sure of that. But Nate would demand payment of some sort, the form it took being something she’d have to wait for, on tenterhooks.

  Nate pulled up outside a mansion: wrought-iron gates topped with the initials BS—which of course stood for Bernard Sullivan, but she thought Bull Shit worked much better—protected a house so large, her apartment would fit inside the garage. A paved driveway with lawn either side led up to the columned front door. Window boxes housed a spray of colorful flowers and, if Dex craned her neck, she could make out a balcony which wrapped around the sides and, potentially, the rear of the property. A pretentious house for a pretentious man.

  “Ready?” Nate asked as he wound down the driver’s-side window.

  Dex shook her head. “Not in the slightest.”

  Nate ignored her reticence and pressed the buzzer. Five seconds later, it was answered.

  “Sullivan residence. Whom may I say is calling?”

  Dex held back a nervous giggle at the formal greeting and the absence in mentioning the late hour. Maybe visitors at any time of the day and night wasn’t unusual for Bernard.

  “It’s Nate Brook. I need to see Mr. Sullivan urgently.”

  “One moment, sir.”

  Nate flashed a grin at Dex who’d decided chewing on her nails might quell the violent churning in her stomach.

  Within thirty seconds, the wrought-iron gates eased open. Nate drove up the driveway. He parked directly outside Bernard’s front door and climbed out. When Dex remained frozen in place, he dipped his tall frame and looked inside the car.

  “Coming?”

  “Do I have a choice?” Dex grumbled.

  Nate chuckled. “You’re welcome,” he said, slamming the car door behind him.

  On heavy legs, Dex got out of the car and trudged after him. By the time she caught up, the front door was open, a uniformed maid waiting to greet them.

  “Mr. Brook. Mr. Sullivan is in his study. Follow me please.”

  Dex waited for her to ask who Nate’s companion was, but she simply waved them both inside and clicked the door shut behind them. Maybe this wasn’t the first time Nate had visited Bernard late at night with a girl in tow. Jealousy nipped at her insides, which she immediately quashed.

  The interior of Bernard’s home was as opulent as the exterior. Highly polished marble floors led to a carpeted staircase, with the fanciest balustrade Dex had ever seen. In the center of the hallway, an oversized vase was filled with enough flowers to stock a florist’s, and above, a sumptuous chandelier hung from an ornate ceiling.

  The maid’s soft-soled shoes didn’t make a sound as she led them to the other side of the hallway. Dex kept her head facing forward, even though she was dying to have a good look around. The maid drew to a halt in front of a thick, oak door. Nate’s fingers touched hers, sending a shockwave of electricity shooting up her arm.

  “Say nothing. Let me lead,” he whispered as they were ushered inside.

  Bernard was sitting behind an enormous desk—also oak—with a green lamp providing additional lighting. His head came up when they walked inside. He spotted Nate first, and his eyes narrowed. And then his gaze fell on Dex.

  “What the hell is going on?” he said, getting up from behind his desk. Unlike in the office where he wore suits, Bernard’s casual attire clung to his larger-than-was-healthy frame. His stomach protruded over the top of a pair of jeans. Really, a man with Bernard’s physique should not wear denim.

  “I need a quick word, Bernard,” Nate said, casually strolling over to a couch and folding himself onto it with a gracefulness that took Dex’s breath away. He really was beautiful. She should have taken the opportunity to study him up close on the drive over, but she’d been too nervous. Still was. Butterflies—and not the good kind—swarmed her stomach, and she surreptitiously wiped clammy hands on her jacket.

  “What the fuck is this bimbo doing here?”

  Dex locked her spine, crossing her arms over her chest. She clamped her jaw shut—with great difficulty.

  “She’s with me,” Nate said, his tone dripping ice.

  His fingers curled around her forearm, and he tugged her down beside him. His words, as well as his touch, sent a delicious tingle spreading through Dex’s chest, and goosebumps sprang up everywhere. Even though it meant nothing, she’d file that statement away for later and use it in another fantasy about Nate while she lay alone in the dark, her fingers inching inside her panties.

  “And you’d do well to mind your language and your fucking tone,” he added.

  Bernard’s face reddened. “If you’re here for another conversation about my cut, you’ve wasted your time.”

  Nate laughed. “No, I think a sixty-six percent reduction in your cut is enough for one day.”

  Dex withheld a gasp. So that was what had put Bernard in such a foul mood.

  “Then what the hell do you want, because I wasn’t bluffing, Nate. You can only push me so far, and you’ve hit the limit.”

  Nate rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he scrutinized Bernard’s face. Dex found her eyes drawn to his long, slender fingers. She’d bet they were skilled hands. What a shame she’d never get to find out the amount of pleasure they could give.

  “Dex tells me you fired her today.”

  “So what?” Bernard spat. “She couldn’t follow a simple fucking order.”

  Nate slowly rose from the couch. In three long strides he’d reached Bernard. The men weren’t too different in height, but something about the way Nate held himself made him the more threatening figure, despite Bernard’s considerable bulk. Dex shivered. She hoped she’d never be on the other end of Nate Brook looking at her with such menace.

  “She followed the order just fine. I ignored it.”

  “Her bad.”

  “No.” Nate poked Bernard in the chest. “Your bad. And my bad. She did nothing wrong, so here’s what’s going to happen. Either you give Dex her job back, or I’m going to have a quick chat with Marjorie.”

  Bernard’s eyes widened. “We had a deal,” he said, spittle forming in the corners of his mouth. “A reduction in my fee for your silence.”

  Nate nodded. “That was before I heard what happened to Dex. I’m revising our deal.”

  Bernard’s fists shook, and he gave Nate an intense, fevered stare. Nate didn’t budge an inch. He looked al
most bored. Dex half-expected him to yawn and check his watch.

  “I’ll ruin you.”

  Nate barked out a mirthless laugh. “Oh, Bernard, don’t you remember anything from our conversation earlier? Let me remind you. I. Don’t. Care. I don’t need millions in the bank, or adoring fans knocking down my door, or my face on the front of GQ to define who I am. I act because I like acting. If it isn’t in TV shows and movies, it’ll be Broadway, or London’s West End. Or a local fucking theater that seats twenty.” He tapped his temple. “Get it into your thick skull. You have zero leverage over me. Zero.”

  Whatever Dex had thought about Nate Brook prior to that moment disappeared as fast as the morning mist was burned away by the sun. She’d completely misjudged the guy. She’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book and allowed herself to be swayed by the public image, mistaking it for reality.

  A vein throbbed in Bernard’s forehead. He flashed a hate-filled glare at Dex then turned back to Nate. “Fine. She can have her job back. Now leave my house.”

  Nate shook his head. “Two things. First, you will apologize to Dex for the way you treated her.”

  “Over my dead body,” Bernard said.

  Nate looked him up and down. “The way you’re living, Bernard, that won’t be too far away. Now apologize.”

  Dex held her breath, wondering what Nate’s next move would be if Bernard refused again.

  “Fine. I apologize,” Bernard said, the cold glance in her direction telling Dex he would make her pay.

  She’d witnessed Bernard in not one, but two, humiliating circumstances, and a man like him wanted to present a very different public image. She held back a shudder and lifted her chin.

  “I accept,” she said, the first words she’d uttered since arriving at Bernard’s home.

  “Excellent,” Nate said, giving her a quick wink. “Secondly, see Dex here has a very difficult job working for you. She has to deal with arrogant pricks like me on a daily basis, not to mention having to look at your ugly mug every day. So, I think a pay rise is in order.”

  Dex’s gasp was drowned out by Bernard’s, “Fuck off.”

  Nate shrugged. “Fine. If that’s the way you want it.” He cocked his head at Dex and wandered over to the door. She followed. “It’s been ages since I saw Marjorie. You really should take her out more, Bernard.”

  For a big man, Bernard moved fast. Nate had only opened the door a couple of inches when Bernard slammed his large hand against it. “Okay, okay. Five percent.”

  “Fifteen,” Nate hit back.

  Dex’s heart thundered, the soft muscle pounding against her ribcage. She leaned close to Nate, her elbow digging into his ribs. “Don’t push it. I need this job,” she muttered out of the side of her mouth.

  Nate ignored her as Bernard countered. “Ten.”

  Nate laughed. “This isn’t a negotiation, Bernard. Fifteen percent. Backdated to the start of the month.”

  After a few seconds, Bernard’s shoulders actually sagged in defeat, and he nodded curtly. “Deal,” he said through a clenched jaw.

  Jesus, Nate Brook was something else. Bernard was feared and revered in this town, and yet Nate had stood his ground and won—for the second time that day.

  He turned cold eyes on Dex. “You start at eight in the morning. And your first job is to fire the stupid blonde temp and sort out the fucking mess she’s made of my calendar.”

  “Yes, Bernard,” Dex said, purposely keeping her voice measured, with a hint of obedience. The latter only because deference would soothe Bernard’s shattered ego and make her life a touch easier.

  Nate opened the door. “Nice doing business with you, Bernard. Say hi to Marjorie for me.” He stepped through and then hesitated. “Behave, Bernard. Dex has my number. If I hear you’re bullying or mistreating her in any way, the deal is off.”

  And with that, he took hold of her hand—yes, her hand—and they left.

  Once inside the car, Dex took a deep breath and let it out slowly. After witnessing such a stressful altercation, her lungs needed the oxygen she’d starved them of while inside. As Nate drove through the gates and back onto the road, Dex turned to him.

  “Thank you.”

  Nate’s lips curved into a brief smile. “You’re welcome.”

  “You renegotiated his fee?” Dex said.

  Nate nodded. “He’s been fleecing me for too long. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to get one over on Bernard, and you, my dear Dex, provided me with not one but two. It’s me who should be thanking you.”

  Dex laughed. “Poor Bernard.”

  Nate snorted. “Don’t feel too sorry for him. He’ll hardly be searching in dumpsters for food—unless Marjorie finds out about his predilection for starlets with big tits.”

  He waggled his eyebrows. Dex laughed again.

  She gave him directions to her apartment, using the thirty minutes to take a mental picture of everything about Nate—the cut of his shirt clinging to his muscular chest, the way his biceps bunched every time he lifted his arm, the angle of his strong jaw, those sexy hands that gripped the steering wheel, how he smelled. Especially how he smelled. Yep, she locked away every single thing in a file in her mind. When she was alone, she’d open it and let her imagination run wild.

  “Thanks for the lift,” she said as he pulled up outside her apartment, her hand on the door handle.

  “Wait.” Nate took out his wallet, and for a horrible moment, Dex thought he was going to offer her money, like an escort or a call girl. Instead, he held out a business card. “If Bernard gives you any trouble, if he even looks at you the wrong way, or says one sharp word, you call me.”

  With trembling fingers, Dex accepted the card. Oh, this night got better and better. Nate Brook had voluntarily given her his contact details. She tucked it in her pocket, vowing to get it laminated the following day in case she ripped it by mistake.

  “I will, although after what you did back there, I think he’ll be watching his mouth for a while yet.”

  Nate grinned. “Maybe, but remember, animals are at their most dangerous when injured. I fully expect Bernard to come out fighting at some point.”

  “Aren’t you worried?”

  “Nah.”

  Her eyes flickered over his face for signs he was lying, but his expression was smooth and worry free.

  “Well, thanks again.” She hesitated for the briefest of moments, restless with the urge to climb onto Nate’s lap and put her mouth on his. To rub herself on his crotch as his heavy, thick erection rocked against her center.

  “Do you need a hand?”

  She twisted her head. “With what?” she asked, wondering if he could read minds.

  Nate pointed his chin at the door. Oh. Dumbass. Heat flooded her face. She dragged her mind back to the present and away from Nate’s erection potential.

  “No, I can manage.” She hid her blush as she climbed out and shut the door. From the safety of the sidewalk, she waved as Nate drove away. His hand came up inside the car, and he waved back.

  For a few seconds, Dex stared at the business card he’d given her, then hugged herself and went inside.

  Chapter 4

  Nate’s alarm went off at four a.m. He groaned and fumbled for his phone, swiping across the screen to shut the damn thing up. It would buy him five minutes snooze time. He’d only gotten in at one in the morning and he needed the extra sleep. He shouldn’t have gone out the previous evening, especially knowing he had to get to the studio for an early morning shoot. He’d have regretted it if the evening had only consisted of a couple of drinks at a boring club, but the unusual turn of events had definitely been worth the heavy eyelids and lethargy he’d spend the rest of the day struggling to shake off.

  He showered, dressed, grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, and headed out. His driver was waiting curbside, a perk provided by the studio, although Nate usually preferred to drive himself. Still sometimes being indulged had its benefits. He’d be able to nap on the way in.<
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  After being lulled to sleep by the moving vehicle, the quick jerk to a stop woke him. Feeling worse than if he hadn’t napped, he rubbed his eyes and then scrubbed his face. His car door was opened and, greeting Nate with a grin far too bright at such an early hour, was his director.

  “Morning. You made it.”

  Nate swung his legs out and, making sure he didn’t bang his head, unfolded his large frame and clapped Mike on the shoulder.

  “Did you doubt me?”

  “Yep. Especially when I had a report that said you headed off with a petite redhead at about eleven-thirty last night.”

  Nate raised an eyebrow. “Is nothing sacred in this town?”

  “Nope.” Mike laughed. “I hope you’ve got plenty of energy left. Gonna be a long day.”

  “Yep, all good. I was in bed by one. Alone.”

  Mike’s forehead creased. “She blow you off, or just blow you?” He cackled at his own joke.

  “Neither,” Nate said curtly, the disparaging dismissal of women in Hollywood grating on his few remaining nerves. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  Mike frowned. “Who’s bitten your ass this morning?”

  Nate didn’t answer.

  Mike huffed, muttered “Goddamn actors” under his breath, and disappeared into the studio. Nate headed toward makeup where he’d spend the next ninety minutes being turned into his character.

  “Morning, Shirl,” Nate said to the lead makeup artist on set, a formidable woman in her early fifties. “I need to grab a quick sandwich before we start. I’ve only had an apple.”

  Shirl shook her head and patted the seat. “Sit. I’ll get one of the girls to fetch you something.”

  Nate did as he was told. No one messed with Shirl. Not if you wanted to keep your balls.

  Mike hadn’t been joking about the long day, and by the time Nate climbed into the back of his car later that evening, he could barely keep his eyes open. Now he was alone, though, his thoughts turned to Dex. He wondered how her first day back working for Bernard had gone, whether she’d had any trouble with the fat fuck. When Nate had given her his contact details the previous night, her surprise had been evident in the way her brow crinkled and her fingers trembled as she’d taken the rectangular card from him. What she didn’t know was how surprised he’d been that he’d offered it. His cell phone number was a closely guarded secret. The only people who had it were his brothers, a couple of close friends, his agent, and whatever director and producer he happened to be working with.