“No, but it won’t take long for the word to get out.”
As we exit the car, the flashbulbs pop and the yelling for our attention commences. The doorman greets us. “Mr. Sullivan. Miss Arnault. Welcome.”
Walking in, the bar is too busy to sit with a drink, and the dining room is full of guests. The maître d’ says, “Welcome to Eleven Madison Park.”
I don’t even hear the woman approach until she’s standing at my elbow. “May I take your coats?”
After we shrug them off, the maître d’ shares, “Will has suggested the table in the back. It offers the most privacy.”
“That would be greatly appreciated,” CeCe says.
The restaurant is elegant, from its taupe-covered velvet chairs to the silver bowls with flowers that adorn each table. We follow the maître d’ to a bench-seating table tucked quietly in the back away from windows. “Would you prefer to sit with your back to the restaurant?” he asks. “You may be able to avoid any unwanted attention that way.”
“Thank you,” CeCe says. “The paparazzi seem out in full force.”
“We’re happy to run some interference and make sure you aren’t bothered this evening. We’ll monitor the crowd, and if you would like, we can also make arrangements for you to exit through a hidden door we have right here”—he points to a wall—“that cuts through the kitchen. John Paul and Francis will be your servers tonight. Enjoy your evening.”
We are immediately greeted by the two servers, who pour sparkling water into our glasses. “Welcome to Eleven Madison Place,” John Paul says. “We have the tasting menu of five courses. Would you care for the accompanying wine course?”
I look at CeCe, who nods vigorously.
“Yes, please,” I reply.
“Enjoy your evening.” He bows his head and disappears.
I spot Jim’s team close by, standing close but behind a privacy wall that the wait staff uses. The restaurant has a way to allow them to blend in and few people know there is security lurking.
“You know, it’ll always be like this,” CeCe warns.
“You’re worth it. Were the paparazzi at the Barney’s event today?”
“Yes, they covered it, though I’m hopeful that we got some good old regular media coverage as well.”
“Vanessa worked really hard, I bet.”
“She did. As did Becca and a few others. We may not have the presence we wanted for Fashion Week, but we’ve made ourselves known, and maybe this will work as we combat the animal testing mess. My fingers are crossed.”
“Mine, too.”
“When I return to San Francisco, I have to circle back to Cora and figure out where they’re at with my case. I’m a bit nervous that we haven’t heard anything since our last update. My team is getting close to launching this line we don’t really want to launch. If it isn’t one of our team members, I’m hoping they’ve got their eyes on someone else.”
“Agreed. Oh, I noticed Evelyn was in an intense conversation with some guy in the lobby when I arrived at your hotel. Do you know who she was meeting with?”
“What did he look like?”
“Hair about the same color as Trey’s. I didn’t get a good look at his face, though.”
“That sounds like Steve Kantor. I’m pretty sure they spent the night together last night.”
“Interesting. It didn’t seem like a romantic meeting, but what do I know?”
Throughout dinner, we’re relaxed and carefree. CeCe is the first woman with whom I’ve felt able to be my true self. I don’t need to put on any false pretenses or worry she’ll be looking for something from me. I like this feeling.
“I can’t eat another bite! Everything was perfectly seasoned, with little taste surprises in almost every dish. The lamb, lobster, and vegetables were all exquisitely displayed and tasted great,” CeCe says as John Paul clears away the fourth and main course.
“One last course left,” he tells her. “Tonight is a rich chocolate truffle layer cake and delicate cream puffs with chocolate sauce.”
“I have room for that.” CeCe grins.
I lean in and nuzzle her ear. “I’d be happy having you for dessert.”
I see Will working the room, and after a moment he comes over. “Mason, I’m so happy to see you.”
“Thank you so much for the table. Have you met Caroline Arnault?”
“No. It’s quite a pleasure to meet you.” He leans down, but watches me. I know he’s happily married, so I’m not worried when he slowly kisses her hand.
“Your food is amazing. Thank you for the table,” CeCe gushes.
“I hear you’re a regular at Quince,” Will says.
“I am. Do you know Michael?”
“I met him once. His work is amazing. I hope you find our food equally as good.”
“Without a doubt,” CeCe says with a twinkle in her eyes. She knows if she tells Will it was better, he’d probably call Michael and brag to him. She’s so smart.
“Have a great evening and enjoy your dessert,” Will offers as he moves along to another table.
Champagne is paired with dessert, which is perfect. We need to celebrate, not only the success of her trip but also us.
“We’re not officially anything, but you’ve had a great start to a rough week, and it’s only going to get better,” I promise.
We clink our glasses together.
“Thank you. Your visit and tonight are perfect.” CeCe smiles broadly.
“Are you ready to go back to the hotel?”
“I am. I believe you promised me another three times tonight.”
“I’d hate to disappoint you.”
Chapter twenty-four
Mason
The slope of CeCe’s back haunts my memories and strains my pants. It was really hard to get on my plane to return to San Francisco and leave CeCe behind, but work called, and I can only do so much for so many days outside of the office. I haven’t slept well since I returned. Sleeping in any bed isn’t right without her. I do honestly believe my dick is chapped and about ready to fall off. I think back to the look of ecstasy she had the morning when I made her come with my tongue and my pants become uncomfortably tight. I hope it’ll always be this way.
She gets home this afternoon, and I can’t wait.
My phone rings and I look at the caller ID, then quickly snatch it up. “Hey, Jim, what’s up?”
“We’ve located Annabelle. She’s in Oakland.”
“Oakland? Why? Where?” I question, completely dumbfounded by the news.
“She’s in an apartment about two blocks away from where the hacking farm was raided. It could be a coincidence, or she’s involved.”
“They say there’s no such thing as coincidences,” I reply with disdain.
“That’s how I see it, but we haven’t identified whose name is on the lease of the apartment where she’s staying.”
“Are you going to confront her again?” Fuck! I so wanted her to not be involved with this hacker shit. I can’t believe it! What am I going to do? How am I going to confront her? “Do you want me to try to talk to her?”
“We’ve notified SFPD, and they’ve looped in Oakland PD. The plan is that she’ll be arrested today.”
“Should I be there?”
“She’ll be remanded to SFPD custody. They’ll tackle the poisoning and work with the FBI for the federal crimes.”
“I feel like I should get her an attorney.” I can’t explain why I feel this way, but while she may not be the love of my life, she was still a good friend who took care of me.
“I won’t give you an opinion either way.”
“Thanks, Jim. If you hear anything I should know from SFPD or your team, please don’t hesitate to call. Let me know when she’s taken into custody, and I’ll notify the team.”
“Will do.” Jim pauses before ending the call. “Mason, she’s innocent until proven guilty. We don’t know anything yet.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
After I hang up, I
cross my arms, stand, and look out over the busy streets of San Francisco. I can’t see water or anything from our office. Dillon can see Oracle Park from his, and we always joke that if we could open our windows, we’d hear the cheers when they play in the stadium.
Why would she do this?
What’s her relationship, if any, to the hackers?
I would bet all of the money I have that she can’t read code, so she can’t be Eve, so what is she to them?
Why is she hiding from all of this if she isn’t guilty?
Time passes incredibly slowly. Outside my office, it’s a flurry of activity. We have new investments coming in and potential sales and public offerings. It’s busy, and I can’t concentrate. I walk to the break room and get coffee, but I’m never far from my phone. Each time it rings, I answer before the caller ID announces it.
“Mason Sullivan,” I say into the receiver.
“Oh, hi. It’s me.” CeCe’s voice is like butter melting on toast—smooth and liquid. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, why do you ask?”
“You sound like you’ve had a few too many cups of coffee.”
I chuckle. She’s good. Settling back in my chair, I decide to tell her what I know. “They’re arresting Annabelle as we speak. Jim’s team found her in an apartment in Oakland not too far from the hackers’ location.”
“Wow. How are you feeling?”
“You know how you’re convinced that there’s no way your team could betray your trust?”
“Yes?”
“That’s how I feel about Annabelle. Maybe at first, but not after she moved in with me.”
“I’ll support you.”
“Thanks.” I then realize that isn’t why she called me. “What’s going on with you?”
“I’m meeting with Cora tomorrow, and we’re going to go over what her team’s found.”
“I can probably make myself available if you’d like.”
“That’s exactly what I was hoping for. She wants to meet first thing, which does nothing for my current sleep habits.”
“Well, I can put in a word with someone who’ll let you get your rest this evening.”
“Thanks. I guess while I have you, I should ask if you’re up for dinner tonight over at Dillon and Emerson’s.”
“I have a feeling that I may be wrapped up with Annabelle, but if that doesn’t happen, sure.”
“Call me when you know something. And enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”
After a few interruptions from the team, my phone rings again and it’s Jim.
“Hey, Mason. She’s been arrested and is being transported back to SFPD. Detective Lenning is working with Assistant Director Perry.”
“Do I need to be there? Do they need anything from me?”
“I don’t think so, but I would guess they’ll reach out to you through Marci.”
“Of course. Keep me posted.”
Jim hangs up, and I quickly call Marci and give her the update.
“That’s great news. They’ll probably want to interview you again after they’ve had a chance to talk to her. I’ll let you know when I hear from them,” she says.
“Do you think it’ll be today?” I ask.
“I don’t. I think at the earliest, it’ll be tomorrow. Are you joining CeCe and me tomorrow morning?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Great, we can dig for information then.”
After I disconnect from the call, I send out a group text to all the partners and advisors.
Me: Annabelle has been arrested in Oakland. They’re transporting her to San Francisco. We don’t know anything yet, but I’ll keep you posted as I hear things.
Cameron: Wahoo! Fantastic news!
Dillon: We should all celebrate. How about our house after work for dinner and drinks?
Cynthia: Todd and I are in!
Christopher: I’ll be there. Bella informs me she’ll try.
Greer: I’ll be with you in spirit! I’m happy that maybe we can close this chapter down.
Emerson: Our house is a wreck. Bring blinders.
CeCe: Great news. I’m up for a celebration. See you about 6?
Emerson: 6 is perfect. I’ll order in from the Greek place in our neighborhood. Please bring your beverage of choice.
This saddens me, but I get it. We all hope this means we’re almost at the end of the tunnel regarding our mole and hackers.
Dillon peeks into my office. “Hey, you want a ride to my place?”
“Sure. Leave in ten?”
“On Mason time, that means twenty minutes.”
“I’ll try to make it fifteen.”
As I close down my office, there are a few people still working, including Quinn. “Aren’t you coming?”
“I have a closing with one of William’s new clients. With Emerson still on her leave, we’re shorthanded. I don’t think I can make it.”
“Please come, at least for a little while.”
William walks up and kisses her on the forehead. “You can come in early tomorrow.”
She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Fine. I’d much rather hang out with you than review job descriptions and evaluate overlap in headcount between our investments and our staff.”
As I walk up to the elevator, there are several partners already waiting. “I told you it would be twenty minutes,” Dillon announces.
“The extra five minutes were convincing Quinn to join us,” I explain.
“You’re forgiven. It wouldn’t be the same without her,” Cynthia admits.
Our gathering is full of food, drink, and merriment. I’m not hungry, but I eat anyway, not even tasting what I put in my mouth. I don’t want to celebrate Annabelle’s arrest. I want to get to the bottom of this. I want to know if she was involved, to what extent, and why.
CeCe leans in and gives me a lingering kiss on my cheek. “How are you doing?”
I shrug.
“We’ll have more answers in the morning,” she assures me, and my love for her grows even more. She can tell how I’m feeling without me telling her.
“I know. I just don’t want to celebrate tonight.”
“Then let’s get out of here and go home.”
“Do you mind?” What a relief. I don’t want to celebrate that I could’ve been fooled all along and that my friend was behind this.
“Not at all.”
I walk up to Dillon and Emerson. “I think we’re going to head out.”
“Is everything okay?” Emerson asks.
“Yes. We’re meeting with the FBI in the morning, and I’m just anxious for some answers.”
Dillon puts his arm over my shoulder. “Mase, we don’t know if Annabelle is behind all of our problems, but we’re going to find out. We’re getting closer to the light at the end of the tunnel. You’ve been through hell, and now you need to get some rest. Go.”
“Thanks, man.”
We say our goodbyes and meet up with Jim’s team to head back to CeCe’s house.
Holding her hand is reassuring. She brings our clasped hands to her mouth and kisses the back of mine softly. “We’re going to get through this together.”
Her assurance both makes my heart soar and calms me at the same time. I feel so much better knowing she doesn’t blame me for getting involved with Annabelle.
Jim’s men drop us off out front. The smell of wet earth and the temperature dropping signals the fog is rolling in. CeCe cinches her coat a bit tighter at her waist, and I reach for her delicate hand. Walking into the house with our fingers intertwined, we shrug out of our coats, then talk about mindless things as we go through the mail and read our emails.
“You’re home early. Are you hungry? Would you like me to make up some dinner?” Angela smiles, tying an apron at her waist as she approaches us in the foyer.
“We’ve eaten. I think we’re just going to—”
There’s a sharp ping sound coupled with glass breaking. Suddenly the house alarm goes off, the noise hu
rting my ears. I’m disoriented and not clear on what just happened, but I know it isn’t good.
Over the loud, frenetic siren, I hear more glass break. “Get down!” I yell.
Although it’s only seconds, it seems like hours that the alarm blares, and there are thuds all around us. The Asian blue-and-white vase filled with puffy white flowers that sits at the center of the table above us shatters, spraying water all over the foyer and us.
I quickly scan the room. CeCe sits next to me, and I can see she’s unsure what to do. We’re being sprayed with bullets, and it’s overwhelming.
As if they beam in from the garage, Jim’s men suddenly appear above us with guns drawn. The sound of the alarm is deafening, and we’re all covering our ears. Glass continues to break around us. I look up and see a growing blotch of red pooling at Jack Reece’s shoulder. He ducks down and yells over the rapid gunfire. I can’t make out what he says, but he points to the kitchen toward the back of the house and urges me to move. As the bullets whiz by over our heads, we crawl on our hands and knees to the garage. Glass is spraying over our head, and I feel a sudden slice of pain in my thigh, making me stop. The pain is searing.
Three men come in and essentially lift us off the ground and carry us into the garage.
“Get in the car!” Jack yells.
Misty comes out of nowhere and bounds into the car with us. She understands the house isn’t a safe place to be.
With one eye on CeCe, making sure she’s doing the same, I launch myself into the back of the car. Angela is hauled in with us. Thank goodness she’s okay.
“HQ called the police. They’ll meet us there.” The garage door opens, and as soon as there’s enough clearance, the tires squeal as we launch out of the garage into the dark alley. For half a moment, I feel a level of calmness.
Then we see someone at the end of the alley. They’re in all black with what looks like a black full-face motorcycle helmet. The driver does the opposite of what I expect, pushing down on the accelerator instead of the brake. Bullets ricochet off the Suburban, but nothing happens. The driver races toward the man, and with the headlights, I notice it’s not a motorcycle helmet but full body armor. My stomach drops as he pellets us with round after round of bullets. Angela is screaming and crying, CeCe is yanked to the ground, and I’m pushed on top of her with Jack on top of me.
Fascination: (Billionaire Venture Capitalist #9): A Friends to Lovers Romance Page 22