by Gemma James
“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
Her brows furrow. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m just tired.” Needing a distraction, I rise to my feet, ignoring the pain in my heels, and begin picking up the bigger pieces of glass. Les grabs my arm, and I jump so violently that the pieces from the mirror drop to the floor again.
“Let me help.” She ushers me through my bedroom and into the bathroom, and I’m thankful for the lack of carpet in the apartment, as I’m tracking blood with each step.
“You don’t have to do this,” I tell her as she urges me to sit on the lid of the toilet.
“It’s no big deal. Sit tight while I clean up.” She opens my medicine cabinet in search of antiseptic and gauze before setting them on the counter next to the toilet. As she cleans up the blood and glass in the other room, I pick out the small pieces that made their way into my feet. The antiseptic stings, but it’s nothing compared to the deep ache in my gut.
It’s been at least forty minutes since Chris left my apartment, but I’m still reeling from the encounter. My head is in a fog. Tears threaten my eyes but refuse to fall. I need to talk to someone about what I remembered, and Les is my best friend. She’ll listen and cry with me and offer to hunt Perry down to tear him limb from limb. But I can’t seem to find the words. The memory of that night is stuck in my throat.
She returns several minutes later. “Did you eat dinner yet?”
I shake my head, remembering the frozen meal that’s still in the microwave, untouched.
“I’m starving,” she says, pulling me off of the toilet. “How about we get out of here for a while and grab something to eat?”
“Okay.” I head into my bedroom and change out of my work skirt and into a pair of yoga pants. Wedging my feet into a pair of casual slip-ons, I glance at Les. “I need to text Cash and let him know I’ll be gone for a while. He said he’d come back tonight.”
I expect her to say something—some remark or comment showing her disapproval—but she doesn’t. That surprises me, and I’m speechless as we leave my apartment and take off down the road toward our favorite restaurant, hurrying through the misty rain. It’s our “spot,” the place we always go to for one-on-one girl time.
“Kaden has us playing at Club Shadow every weekend now,” she says after we’ve spanned three blocks in silence.
“That’s awesome. I’m sure the guys are excited.”
“Oh, they are. Still fighting like bulls though. Garen’s been drinking a lot lately. Zan isn’t happy about it.”
“Anything happen with Zan yet?” I ask.
“No.” The firm line of her mouth hints it’s not the answer she wishes to give. “Nothing can happen. Too much is at stake.”
“Sometimes you have to take a risk for love.”
“Like you did with your boss?” She gives me the side eye. “Aren’t you worried he’ll break your heart now that his wife has been found?”
“I was at first. But he loves me, Les. He wants to move in together as soon as possible once the divorce papers are filed.” We arrive at the restaurant and end up in our favorite booth. For a Wednesday, it’s packed, yet the din of conversation flows through the room, making it difficult to decipher any one thread. It makes me feel better about discussing my personal life with Les in such a public setting.
“I think it’s time I meet this guy,” she says, ignoring her menu since she usually opts for the same thing whenever we come here.
“Maybe we can get together for lunch one of these days.”
Les arches a dark brow. “Or you could invite him to your birthday party.”
I snap my menu shut. “What are you talking about?”
She feigns confusion. “Didn’t I tell you about the private party the band is throwing you at Club Shadow?”
“You know how I feel about parties.”
“Suck it up, Jules. The band wants to thank you for helping us with this gig. Besides, it’ll give you a chance to meet some new people, and you can introduce us to your new man.” She takes a sip of her water. “I’m assuming he’ll be familiar with the location, since his brother owns the place.”
My mind goes back to Chris with my sister, and I’m struck by the similarities between Cash and me. We’ve both been betrayed by our siblings. I can only hope that Cash will feel comfortable at his brother’s club, but I’m not about to go into their family issues with Les.
“I can’t talk you out of this, can I?”
“Not even a little.”
I let out a sigh of resignation though part of me is warmed to my core that Les cares enough to want to celebrate my birthday. “Name the time. I’ll let Cash know.”
A huge grin spreads across her face. “I’ll text you the details.” She signals for the waitress. “Now that it’s settled, let’s get some food coming.”
23. Cut the Strings
Cash
I’m not looking forward to this conversation, but Jules is out having dinner with her friend, so I can’t use her as an excuse to put off this visit with my father. He isn’t going to like what I have to tell him. The estate is dark and quiet. I don’t know where Mom is, but I find my father alone in the study nursing a glass of bourbon.
“How’s your wife?” he asks, looking up from the latest issue of Forbes magazine.
“She’s awake.”
“Blackwell called me about an hour ago.”
“So you know about the murder charge?”
Taking a sip of his drink, he nods. “Your wife got herself into a load of trouble. I’ve called for an emergency meeting with the Board tomorrow.”
As I settle into the leather chair next to him, I grit my teeth. “You could have left it to me.” All the phone calls and scheduling of press conferences, and now this. He launched me to CEO last year, but when it comes down to it, he doesn’t trust me to do the job.
He waves away the objection. “You were busy clearing your head, remember?”
“Don’t use my personal life as an excuse to act like I’m a damn puppet. It’s getting old.”
“Then I suppose you won’t like that I called for a press conference as well.”
“I guess it’ll be as good a time as any to announce that Monica and I are divorcing.”
He lets out an exasperated sigh. “This idea of yours is getting exhausting, Cash. There is no way in hell I’ll allow you to risk the future of MontBlake. You’d better pray Monica is willing to look past your infidelity in trade for your support through the legal mess she made.”
“She’s already agreed to grant me a divorce. She also agreed to step down as Chairperson.”
His eyes go wide. “The Blakes won’t support it.”
“They won’t have a choice. Upon the divorce, our family will gain majority share of MontBlake.”
My father isn’t speechless often, but he’s gaping at me now, lips moving to form words.
“Get real, Cash. Ned will never allow the transfer of those shares.”
“He will if he wants to stay out of jail for extortion.”
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“He blackmailed Monica into plotting a takeover of the company. She’s willing to make this right, and considering what he did was illegal, I don’t see him putting up a fight.”
He gets up, drink in hand, and paces the study. “What did he have on her?”
“Did you know she was involved with Kaden?”
He finishes off the amber liquid in his glass, and the lack of shock on his face answers my question. “What does your brother have to do with this?”
“She was pregnant when she went to Paris. She gave their child up for adoption without telling him. Ned was going to tell Kade everything if Monica didn’t agree to his scheme to coup a takeover.”
With a harsh thump, Dad drops the empty tumbler onto a side table. “I knew he wanted to get his hands on the company, but I didn’t think he’d go this far.” He pauses, and his shrewd gaze lands on
me. “What else did Monica disclose?”
“You mean did she tell me about your affair with Roni?”
A grunt accompanied by a furrow between his brows is his only answer.
“She told me everything.” I rise and stand face-to-face with him. “And now you’re going to tell Mom about the affair.”
“So quick to judge,” he scoffs. “What makes you think your mother doesn’t already know?”
“She knows?”
“We’ve been sleeping in separate bedrooms for years. I’m not the only one screwing other people.” He wanders over to the crystal decanter and pours me two fingers of bourbon. “We have an understanding. Your mother and I know what’s important.” He hands me the tumbler before reclaiming his seat by the fireplace where the glow of gas-lit logs cast the room in warm tones.
“The company,” I answer with a curl of my lip. “Always the goddamn company.” I move to take a sip then think twice about it. Jules has already been confronted with one drunken asshole tonight. I’m not about to add to the tab.
“Yes, the company, but also family, Cash. Your mother and I might not have the type of marriage you approve of, but we still respect each other.”
I can’t help but gape at him. “So you’re saying you and Mom have an open marriage?”
“Yes, for many years now, and this is why I know you and Monica can make it work.”
“I’m not you, Dad. Zero respect remains between Monica and me. She couldn’t even tell me the truth until she got cornered into it. Our marriage is dead and has been for a long time.”
“You’re positive this is what you want?”
“Yes. I’m in love with someone else, and Monica…she still has feelings for Kaden.”
“This isn’t how I envisioned things would end.”
“You and me both.”
“And you’re sure Ned won’t be a problem?”
I lean forward, confronting my father head-on. “You need to trust me to do my job. Ned Blake will pay for what he’s done. I will protect the company.”
“I sense a ‘but’ in there somewhere, son.”
“But I’m not your puppet.” I set the untouched drink onto the table next to his then slide my wedding band off my finger. “It’s time to cut the strings, Dad.” The ring drops to the table next to the glasses. “If you want to keep me on as CEO, then it’s time you started enjoying retirement.”
24. Don't Speak
Jules
Les walks me back to the alleyway outside my apartment complex, and that’s where we part with a hug. I’m exhausted from lack of sleep these past few nights, but I’m anxious to get back to Cash. He sent me a text half an hour ago, letting me know that he’s waiting, having used the key I left under the mat for him.
I make my way up the stairs, open the door, and I’m struck speechless at the sight before me. Candles light up every surface. The soft glow spools romantic ambience through the space, driving out the horror of Chris’ unwanted visit and everything he brought with it. I lock the door and step into the living room, sensing Cash behind me before his hands settle onto my shoulders.
His lips drift down my neck as he unbuttons the light sweater I wore to go out with Les. “How was dinner with your friend?”
“It was good, but I missed you.” It’s only been a couple of hours, but it’s absolutely true. I thirst for this man like I’d thirst for water after a three-day trek in the desert.
He slides the sweater down my arms and unsnaps my bra, unwrapping me bit by bit until I’m left standing naked in the middle of my living room, skin aglow in the candlelight.
“You’re overdressed,” I complain.
“A problem I plan to fix very soon.” He dips and hauls me into his arms, cradling me as if I’m the most precious thing in the world to him.
“Did things go well with your wife?” I wind my arms around his neck as he carries me into my bedroom, which is lit up like the rest of the apartment.
“Yes, but I don’t want to talk about that right now. We have plenty of time for that later.”
“What do you have in mind then?” I tease, spying a duffle in the corner of the room that I don’t recognize. A thrill travels through me at the sight of that bag.
He really came back, and he’s planning to stay.
He drops me onto the mattress before shedding his clothing. “I plan to engage in plenty of touching, kissing, and fucking you a hundred ways to Sunday.” The bed dips under his weight, and his warm body blankets me. “Definitely no talking.”
“But—”
He presses a finger against the seam of my mouth. “No talking, Jules.” Slowly, he pushes the digit between my lips, and the salt of his skin lingers on my tastebuds. His eyes are metallic with desire in the candlelight, but that finger…
Holy hell, he’s sliding it between my lips in a way that tells me what he has on his mind.
“You said you can’t be scared away. Is that true?”
His finger slips from my lips, and I nod.
“I’m going to hold you to that.” He leaves the bed then returns a few seconds later, and my gaze lands on the tie in his hands. Instead of using it to restrain my wrists, this time he fastens it around my eyes, blotting out the glow of the room.
All of my nerve endings sing with awareness once my sight is taken, every sense on hyper alert.
The cool air on my skin.
The heat emanating from his body.
The rapid sound of his breathing.
The taste of his kiss as his tongue darts between my lips. He moans into my mouth, and I respond in kind, arching into his body, moving to clutch his shoulders. He breaks the kiss and slams my hands to the mattress.
“I’m going to make you ache to beg, but you’re not allowed to.” His breath blasts the sensitive skin beneath my ear. “You’re not allowed to move, either.”
His words send a shiver through me, and I can’t help but shudder. Goose bumps erupt on my skin, and I feel my nipples harden. I’m already a heartbeat away from begging, the tingle in my breasts calling his mouth, aching for the heat of his hands.
“If you say a word,” he says, sliding down my body, lips leaving a teasing path between my breasts, “I won’t let you come tonight.”
My breath hitches, a rebellious plea dancing on my tongue, but something in his tone tells me he’s telling the truth.
He’ll leave me in agony if I don’t obey.
I mash my lips together and swallow with a gulp. The instant his tongue dips into my belly button, my spine bows. I bite my lip to keep quiet. God, he plans to torture me with sensation overload, all the while forbidding me to see or speak.
What a diabolical, devilishly sexy man.
I fist my hands as he moves to my left breast, mouth closing around the sensitive peak, teeth clamping down until pleasure turns to pain. I gasp but manage to refrain from saying a word. He journeys to my right breast before once again lowering to my belly button, tongue hot and wicked on my skin.
Then he moves lower.
I hold my breath as he pushes my thighs apart. His fingers spread me in indecent exposure, leaving every inch of me bare in the candlelight. Somehow, with my sight taken, I feel more vulnerable than ever.
At the first dip of his hot, wet tongue between the folds of my womanhood, I almost fracture.
Almost break the rules.
Almost cry his name in a plea for more.
Staying still and quiet has never been so difficult.
He moans against my flesh, lips closing around my clit, and the skill of his tongue sends me higher and higher, until there’s nothing but sparks behind my blindfolded eyelids. It gives the term “seeing stars” new meaning.
I can’t help the gasping mewls escaping my lips, but gasping and moaning must be okay because his fingers thrust into me, again and again, keeping time with his tongue. I’m dangerously close, and I want to tell him so, but he made it clear I’m not allowed to beg.
I’m not allowed to come
, either. The rule is unspoken yet powerful between us, and I’m aching for his permission.
As if he senses my sexual uprising, he pulls back and slows the rhythm of his fingers. It’s not enough. I’m too worked up, but he’s not touching me enough to send me over the edge.
“Christ, Jules. I could watch you like this all night.”
I resist squirming against the mattress. Nails biting into my palms, I thrust my breasts upward, nipples hard and tingly. He never said a thing about not begging with my body. And sweet Jesus, is my body ever begging.
Shaking apart at the joints.
Nothing but a tight wire ready to snap.
The tempo of his fingers triple, and I flood around those digits, too damn close to releasing the rising pressure.
“Don’t come, Jules.”
His deep, throaty timbre is enough to make me climax, but I hold back, teeth grinding together in the effort. His breathing quickens. So does the pulsing around his fingers.
I whimper.
“You’re so wet,” he whispers. “But you won’t come, and all because I told you not too.” He curses under his thready breath. “You have no idea what that does to me.”
I sense movement, then the crinkle of foil followed by the hiss of his breath as he rolls on the condom. Seconds later, he grips me by the hips and plunges into me. “Fucking hell,” he groans. “Come for me.”
He thrusts to the hilt, inducing a massive orgasm that rips through me with such intensity that each wave launches from my throat in a soundless cry, and I scream his name without making a sound at all.
25. In Confidence
Cash
It’s 3 a.m. when I awake and find Jules staring at the ceiling. We blew out the candles before we fell asleep in each other’s arms, but the streetlight from the alleyway sends enough illumination into the room to highlight the strain on her face.
“What’s wrong?” I draw a stray hair out of her eyes, wondering if she’s still processing everything I told her after we made love. I held nothing back on the subject of Monica’s duplicity.