The steak arrives with another round of beer. The mood of the group changes as soon as the men take their first taste.
“Holy shit,” Jimmy says, cutting a second piece and stuffing it into his mouth as if his taste buds required proof of more before believing what they register. “What did you call this? Ragu?”
I smile. “Wagyu. Japanese beef.”
“No shit. Next road trip we take is to Japan.” Lance grins as he also goes back for a second bite. Before anyone corrects him, he waves a hand. “You know what I mean. God, this is good.”
Only then I realize Jay hasn’t eaten anything yet. He’s not drinking either. I put my own bottle down. Maintaining an advantage in such a situation requires remaining the most clear-headed. I should have paid more attention.
I reference his untouched plate. “You don’t like steak?”
He gives me a long, measured look. “Why are you doing all this?”
“I thought this was an experience you might enjoy.”
His head shake is nearly imperceptible. “No one does something for nothing. They always want something.”
Smart kid. “You’re right. This is about appeasing my curiosity. I wanted answers.”
The waiter clears Jimmy’s plate.
“You paying for all this, Brice?” Jimmy asks.
“Happily,” I answer.
“I’ll have another then. This time medium. The first one was good, but it was still mooing. Hell, pack up a few to go. Murray will want to taste this. He’ll eat two if Charles doesn’t want his. We should take one back to Savannah too.”
All the waiter required from me was one nod, and he was off to fulfill Jimmy’s expensive request. I meet Jimmy’s gaze and see that he’s not oblivious. Getting those answers was going to cost me.
I send a text with instructions to Charles. Round two of the steak arrives. Jay is watching me intently. If I knew how to put the kid at ease, I would.
“You like Savannah?” His question takes me by surprise. I choke on the water I’m taking a sip of.
“I don’t know her well enough to have feelings for her one way or another.” That’s true of how I feel above the belt. “When I met her, she was in a state of distress. It doesn’t feel right to walk away until I’m sure she’s okay.”
“Sure,” Lance spoke with his mouth full of steak. “You’re just a nice guy trying to do the right thing. You think any of us believe that?”
Jimmy puts his utensils down, wipes a napkin across his face, and sits back. “Don’t worry, Lance, Brice is going to think real carefully about how he proceeds with Savannah. He understands there is nowhere he could hide from us if he hurt her. Isn’t that right, Brice?”
I’m not afraid of these men, but their message is loud and clear. I like them a lot for it. “I have no intention of hurting her.”
“Then we don’t have a problem,” Jimmy says.
My phone chirps with the indication of an urgent email. My mother would swat at me for pulling out my phone, but she’d probably have a lot to say about my dinner company too. It’s from Simon, and I scan his message quickly. The words that stick out are enough to set me on edge. Jana Monroe is a fake identity. Created five years ago. She has no prior digital footprint. No banking, DMV, or passport history prior to that. The business was incorporated shortly after her identification was created.
My blood boils. Jana Monroe is a scam—but with what aim? To fleece Savannah financially? Or worse?
“Bad news?” Lance asks.
I shake my head and pocket my phone. The only thing that telling these men will do is likely land one of them in jail. Situations like these are better handled more strategically.
Dinner plates are removed. The dessert tray is brought around. They pack it in. Even Jay breaks down and indulges in two pieces of dark chocolate cake. I’ve never seen any group of people put away so much food in my life. Even the waiter looks begrudgingly impressed. He announces that our takeout is ready.
“Do you have something else for me?” I ask him.
He hands me a plastic card. I hold it out to Jimmy. “The building right across the street is a hotel. I rented out the presidential suite for the four of you. No need to bunk up at Savannah’s. You’re only one short elevator ride from king-sized beds and a seventy-five-inch flat-screen television.” I wave the key at them.
Jimmy doesn’t accept the key. He stands. “No thanks.”
I rise to my feet as well. “You’d rather spend the night on the floor of Savannah’s apartment.”
Jay moves to stand beside Jimmy as if a line is being drawn in the sand, and he is proclaiming his side.
Jimmy gives me a hard stare that might intimidate some, but my father has a similar look he issues in place of a long lecture. It’s effective. I know exactly what Jimmy is warning me not to do. The problem is—I’ve never been good at following the rules. So, I stand there, holding the card out to him, letting my steady gaze be an answer of its own.
“Wait,” Lance takes a last swig of his beer then stands as well. “We’re taking the hotel room though, right?”
“Yeah,” Jimmy says with a grunt and takes the card from my hand. “Savannah asked us to trust her judgement, and he’ll be here tomorrow after we go back home. We’ll see her in the morning. Jay run next door and tell Murray we’re staying so he should collect the car. Lance, get the takeout.”
While Jimmy and I walk toward the side exit of the restaurant, he slaps a hand on my shoulder and lowers his voice. “You’ve got money and that there fancy suit, my friends and I have something that might be of interest to you.”
I can’t tell if he’s about to ask me to invest in his bar or sucker punch me. I step out of the restaurant with him, face him, and ask, “And what is that?”
“A combined sixty-three years of experience hunting. Murray and I served in the Army. We know how to lie in wait. Hit our target.”
It sounds familiar, similar to a threat I already received that evening.
Another measured look I don’t react to.
“Nothing to say?” he pushes.
“I’ve issued similar cautions to young men interested in my sister. I respect your position.”
“I sure hope you’re nothing more than you appear,” Jimmy says in a tone that hints he might be starting to like me.
I understand this man. When it comes to keeping the people I care about safe, I’ll do whatever needs to be done—even hiding out in Boston, courting business deals under an alias.
“My primary interest in seeing Savannah again is only to ensure she isn’t getting mixed up with an unsavory element in Boston. There are people here who might take advantage of someone new to the city.”
Lance joins us with several bags of food. Murray and Jay cross the street to us. A moment later Charles pulls up with the limo.
Murray says he’ll pick up the car in the morning. Charles asks if he requires anything out of it. Murray looks to his friends and asks, “You all got your makeup bags with you?”
Jimmy bats his eyelashes—a sign that all that beer might have affected him just a little.
Laughter erupts.
“We’re good,” Murray announces then leans in to say something to me.
In a low tone, I say, “I know. You’ve served in the Army and still love to hunt. Got it.”
He laughs. “Charles shared some pretty good stories about you.”
“He did?” My attention snaps to Charles. I don’t believe he would disclose who I really am, but I also wouldn’t have guessed he would have gotten along so well with Murray.
Charles gives me a look that assures me he’s neither compromised nor tipsy. Whatever he shared hasn’t blown my cover.
“Good night, gentlemen,” I say with a wave before sliding into the back seat of the limo.
I check my watch. It’s late. Unless she’s waiting up for her friends, she’s probably asleep. I should go back to my office and see how the foreign markets are faring. “Stop at Savan
nah’s.”
Charles turns in his seat to get a good look at me. “Is that a good idea?”
“I should tell her that her friends are not returning.”
“Oh,” he laughs. “Because they won’t text her with that revelation?” He turns back to face forward and pulls out into traffic. “I’ll admit I’m impressed. Four men at her apartment with plans to return, and you convince them not to. Smooth.”
I frown. I don’t like what he’s implying. “It’s not like that. I need to talk to her. I received an email from Simon while we were at dinner. Nothing good. Jana Monroe is an alias.”
“Poor Savannah seems to attract people who can’t remember their real names.”
I cross my arms over my chest and sink deeper into my seat. “So glad you find the situation amusing.”
He glances at me through the rearview mirror. “Amusing? No. Complicated, yes. I would love to tell you it’s a mistake to continue to have any involvement with Savannah.”
“But?”
“I’ve spent the last few hours learning about her, and I think your instincts are correct. She’s too innocent to understand the danger she might be putting herself in. A woman like her, with no family to watch out for her . . .”
“I don’t want to think about the possibilities. I’ve told her I don’t agree with her having further involvement with this Monroe, but she doesn’t listen to me.”
Now Charles did look amused. “If only she knew who she’s dealing with.”
“Exactly,” I say with shared humor. I am too accustomed to women falling over themselves to catch and keep my attention. Even the expendable prince is a catch with a title many find too tempting not to vie for. Not Savannah.
We drive in silence the rest of the way. As we pull up to the front of the building, I say, “Charles, it’s late. I can catch a cab home.”
“I’ll wait here.”
“It may be a while.”
“I don’t think so.”
I have no reason to explain anything to Charles, but when he opens the back door of the limo for me, I add, “I’m only going to talk to her.”
He closes the door and leans against it. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
Fine.
The doorman gives me a disapproving look when I ask him to ring her apartment. I slide him a large bill. Suddenly he’s very helpful.
“Hello?” her voice comes through the speaker, sounding sleepy and sexy.
“Mr. Hastings is here. Shall I send him up?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess.”
The doorman gestures to the elevator and makes himself busy with some paperwork. I use the ride up to organize my thoughts. This time, she will listen to me.
“The guys just called and said they’re staying at a hotel for the night.” Savannah wipes the sleep out of her eyes as she lets me in. Her pajamas are a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. She probably thinks they cover her adequately, but someone needs to tell her they are both sinfully tight. Her bare legs go on forever and the stretched material of her T-shirt accentuates how excited she is to see me.
I raise my eyes to hers. Everything below her neck is too dangerous.
I wish her lips weren’t as tempting.
“I just finished dinner with your friends,” I say as she closes the door behind me. Part of me wants to tell her to throw me out. Anything I have to say could be said tomorrow when I’m not sporting a boner and can think clearly again.
She moves to sit on a single chair rather than the couch, pulls her legs up in front of her and yawns. I stay rooted where I am . . . aching for her.
“Lance said they’re in the presidential suite. Did you do that?”
“Yes.” I can barely breathe. God, she’s so beautiful.
“Why?”
Her question hangs in the air.
I’ve never been shy about what I am. If she weren’t a virgin, I’d tell her. This is different, though. I can’t tell her what I want because I’m still trying to figure out what the hell it is.
I shouldn’t be here.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Savannah
It’s my first night with my own place in Boston, and I already have a gorgeous man in my apartment looking like he wants to spend the night. Everywhere his gaze caresses me, my body warms. I don’t know what to do about my nipples waving at him like two take-me-now beacons, so I hug my legs to my front.
Having sex is one of my goals, but the intensity of my attraction to Brice scares me. It feels dangerously impulsive. I cling to the conversation I had with Jana. If sex was all I wanted, I would have had it already. What I want is a better life for myself. Jumping into bed with the first beautiful man who pays attention to me feels like a recipe for failure.
“You really have issues.” What do they call laying your crazy at someone else’s door? Transference? Whatever, I need to be angry with him, or I’m going to be on my knees begging him to initiate me.
But then what? Where would we go from there? I’m not saying I may never have a one-night stand . . . but my legs are still hairy for God’s sake. It’s too early in my transformation to think I can handle someone like Brice.
And how would I look Jana in the eye? I told her I’d follow her plan. I paid her all that money. I don’t care how amazing his lips might feel on my skin.
They’d catch on stubble. Remember that.
“I have issues?” The look on his face is shocked—like I’m the first to accuse him of not being perfect. It bolsters my conviction.
“You love to orchestrate things. Make them turn out the way you want.”
“That’s not so much an issue as a talent.”
His grin is all sex, and heat surges through me. I bet he knows exactly what he’s doing. How many women have fallen for that look? Have felt the same urges that are filling me and have given in to them? His grin says too many.
Time to address the elephant in the room. “I’ve spent the last few hours thinking about you.” That didn’t come out the way I meant it to.
“Really?” His eyebrows arch, and he looks pretty pleased with himself.
I rush to add, “And Lance, Murray, Jay, and Jimmy.”
That removes some of the cockiness from him.
I continue, “I’m surrounding myself with the wrong men. Scaring off anyone who might actually make me happy. I need to stop hiding from life by continuing to open the door to you guys.” I shrug. “Jana says this is a journey I need to take on my own, and I think she’s right.”
“Jana?” He huffs. “I’ve looked into this woman. She didn’t exist five years ago. She’s a liar, a scammer. Possibly worse.”
I shake my head. It makes sense that Jana would be working under an assumed name. The very nature of her business is covert. “I’m sorry you have no faith in me.”
He steps closer. “It’s not you I have no faith in. You’re a nice person, Savannah. Cities are full of people ready to take advantage of your inexperience. How long did it take you to get mugged?”
I glare at him. “Next time you bring my purse up I may have to kick your ass. I have a lot to learn. I get it. That’s why I hired Jana.”
Another step closer. My body is literally humming for him. I tell it to chill the fuck out.
“What did you hire her to do?” His tone is warm honey, and I can’t refuse him anything in this moment.
“Fix me,” I say in a raw whisper. Stop me from stopping myself from succeeding.
“You don’t look broken to me.” I’ve fantasized what it would be like to have a man look at me the way he is. I imagined how it would make me feel. This is so much more. I’m turned on, scared immobile, angry with myself, angry with him, sad that I’m being offered something before I’m ready to accept it.
I want to stand up, strip, and say . . . wax me yourself, baby.
I want to turn and run, slam the bedroom door, and hide out until I’m sure he’s gone.
My indecision is proof enough that this is a bad idea.
> He’s right in front of my chair, looming over me. I refuse to meet his eyes. My gaze falls to his prominent bulge, and I briefly close my eyes. I’m an intelligent, confident woman who is completely in control of the situation. All I have to do is think of something intelligent and confident to say.
I open my eyes.
Oh God, I just looked at his crotch again.
I lower my gaze, still trying to come up with what to say.
He crouches in front of me, placing a hand on the arms of the chair to steady himself. I raise my eyes to his. He’s so close I forget why any of this shouldn’t happen.
His voice is low and measured. A change for him. “Your friends told me what you’ve been through. I understand now.”
I don’t think he does. In fact, I’m sure he doesn’t. Or he’d already be kissing me. I cling to the last shreds of my anger. “Great. I’m glad you guys had a long chat over your dinner. How lovely. That doesn’t make any of you an expert on me. It doesn’t give you the right to tell me what I should do.”
“Jana isn’t going to fix you. She’s going to hurt you. You need to know that.”
I could lose myself in his eyes . . . in the promise of those lips of his. I’m reasonably certain he’d let me touch them, but doing so would send the opposite message than it should.
He asks, “What did she promise you? That she’d show you a way to make money?”
“I don’t care about money,” I say, struggling to remember what I do care about beyond this moment and how he’s making me feel. “Things don’t matter. I don’t expect you to understand, but I have to do this. My father gave me a clock when I was little. It was antique. Special. He’d given it to my mother when he married her to represent that he would love her for all time. I clung to that clock, especially after I lost my father. I thought it mattered. Then my grandmother became very ill, and no matter how much I worked, I couldn’t afford the care she needed. So I sold it. And it freed me. A part of me had been waiting for someone to swoop in and save me and that clock. I thought that was how life worked . . . that there is always a happy ending like in the movies. Sure things might get tough, but then they always turn around. Only they don’t. I have to save myself. There is no prince charging in on a white horse.”
Undeniable Bachelor (Bachelor Tower Series Book 3) Page 12