by B. B. Miller
My heart twinges with fear at the reminder. “No, it wasn’t Mom.” I sigh and look at her, begging with my eyes. “Please, let it go.”
Reluctantly, she nods and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “See you tomorrow. Get some sleep.”
I lock up after her and lower the front blinds. I’m not sure if the photographer is still out there, but I’m not taking any chances. In the silence of my bedroom, I sink down on my bed and finally let my mind turn to my problem. The fear of those photos slipping through—of being let through—is almost choking. But I told Sean the truth last night. I choose him. And that means I can’t let this threat stand.
Mixed with the fear, however, is a boiling anger. If I’m going to break away, I need to take matters into my own hands. I’ve let others protect me, preferring not to know the details, but all that’s done is prolong my guilt. Nibbling on my thumbnail, I try to remember everything I’ve ever heard about cybersecurity. I don’t understand it, but I know it’s always expensive.
I look around my workroom: the racks of lace and ornaments; bolts of fabric leaning against the wall; and the dress form in the corner, draped in pieces of my latest creation. Whatever it’s going to cost, it will be worth it. I can’t let what happened back then destroy what I’ve built for myself, and I refuse to let anyone threaten me again. It’s time—more than time.
The rain has started again, a spring squall pelting angrily against the windows. I’m terrified, but I know what I have to do…and I think I know who can help.
He answers his phone on the second ring. “You aren’t going to believe this, but I was just about to ring you.” His voice is like a balm, and the tension in me eases. “Have you eaten? I know a nice, quiet Russian place in the Village that makes the best piroshkies you’ve ever had. And then I want to get you naked and—”
“Sean, I need to take control of my own future…and past,” I blurt. “Do you know someone who has experience in scouring the internet?”
There’s a silence, during which I think my heart will fly out of my chest. When he speaks, his voice is full of resolve. “Have you seen any paparazzi today?”
“Um, there was a photographer earlier, but I’m not sure if he’s still there.” I get up and look out the rain-streaked window, but I can’t see anything. “What’s that got to do with—”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll send a car to pick you up—my driver can shake anyone following. We’ll have the piroshkies delivered.”
I smile at his take-charge tone. “Can you help?”
“Of course I can, love. I know just the man.”
Murphy’s Law No. 42: You can either hit the dead end, or turn and take a different path.
Sean
TUCKER ISN’T TRYING TO HIDE his amused smile as we sit on video chat. “Well, well, well. Better stock up on parkas; hell has officially frozen over. You’ve got yourself a girlfriend, Sean.”
“Fuck, why did I call you?” I mumble, taking a sip of tea.
“Because I’m the best and you love me.” Our head of security just grins at me.
“I will neither confirm nor deny my love for you, mate. She’ll be here any minute. Just tell me you can do something about this.”
He narrows his eyes at the camera. “Of course I can. Let me get this straight. You said her father is a senator?”
“Yes, from Wyoming.”
Tucker doesn’t even try to cover his laugh. “You fell for a cowgirl?”
“She’s not a cowgirl, you oversized mammoth. She’s been through a lot, and it would be really nice if we could get rid of these damn photos for good.”
His amusement is obliterated as he stares at the screen. “You really like this girl.”
I run a hand down my face. “I really do. There. I said it. Happy now?”
“You have no idea. Okay, I’ll look into these pictures, but, Sean, if I find anything I’m not going to show you. Got it?”
I scowl. “Why the hell not?”
“Because if it’s as bad you’re making it out to be, and you really care about this girl, I don’t think you want those visuals in your head. Shit like this can change things.”
“She was taken advantage of, Tucker.” I blow out a long breath. “Drugged and almost raped. Whoever is still holding onto the photos needs to be dealt with.”
“And this was at UCLA? Do you have a date or any names of these frat-boy assholes?”
“I don’t have an exact date. It would’ve been about ten years ago. No names, although she did say her father’s chief of staff, I think his name is Dale something, dealt with it. There may be records at the hospital. Apparently, these fuckers had the shit kicked out of them once this Dale character got into the picture.”
Tucker nods, writing something in his book. “Give me a couple of hours, and I’ll have something.”
“Thanks, Tuck. I know this goes outside of your typical duties, but…” My throat tightens with some weird emotion. “I owe you.”
“Famous last words, man. If I had a dime for every time you guys said that…” He taps the screen. “And I’ll always help you, Sean. No questions asked.”
“I know. Even though we are a pain in your arse.”
He lets out a laugh. “You have no idea. I’ll get back to you soon.” The screen goes dark before I can thank him again.
I stare at the computer, thinking of how much my life has changed in the weeks that Cassidy blazed into it. That I want another person outside of my family, the band, and their significant others to be safe and protected is new. But, that’s all I want. To be the person who takes this nightmare away from her.
“Give me your mouth,” I whisper-rasp into Cassidy’s ear as she flattens her palms against one of the panoramic windows. The Manhattan night skyline has never looked as good as it does now, with Cassidy naked, her desperate cries filling the penthouse as I drive into her from behind.
Thank God for that privacy glass.
We started shedding our clothes the moment she stepped foot into the apartment. Both of us seem to be driven by raw need, by the insane desire to get lost in each other. She turns her head; her warm lips meet mine in a kiss so intense it makes my heart leap.
I feed her my tongue with each sharp roll of my hips and take a tug of her hair. I smile against her mouth as she pushes back to meet the frantic pace. “You like it this way, don’t you?” She answers by biting at my bottom lip. “Spread out and open for me.” Her lips trail across my jaw, hovering against my throat. I can feel the warmth of her hitched breaths as she chases down euphoria.
“That’s right, Fly-girl. Feel all of me.” I wish she fucking could. I can’t wait for these test results to come in so I can feel her bare. I might just lose my mind in the process, but what a way to go.
The window reflects every dip and curve of her glorious body. Her creamy skin, those peaked, delicious nipples, reddened from every lick and suck I gave them. And then her lips draw away from my skin and her head drops forward, and I feel that perfect moment when she crashes and shatters around me.
My own orgasm barrels through me, electric heat making me press her against the cool glass with my face buried between her shoulders. I keep one arm wrapped around her and drop a lingering kiss on her shoulder blade.
Lifting my gaze, I can see the glass fog with each of her panted breaths, making me feel like I’m the king of the fucking world for wrecking her like this. I glide my hand up the curve of her back, along her arm, and cover one of her hands still anchored to the glass. “Fuck, you’re amazing,” I whisper against her neck, unable to stop the press of my lips along her sweet skin.
“You’re not too shabby yourself.” Her voice is shaky, and my heart stutters with her vulnerability. She’s put a hell of a lot of trust in me today, and I don’t think she does that lightly.
It’s agony pulling out of her to deal with the condom. I want to stay buried in her for a lifetime. By the time I pull on a pair of jeans and return, she’s already out of the loo and standing
at the window with my Union Jack blanket wrapped around her. Manhattan lights sparkle in the inky sky behind her, but she outshines them all.
“You really are trying to kill me.” I take her face between my hands and trace the gentle slope of her cheek. “This is guaranteed to make me hard again.”
“I don’t think that takes much,” she whispers against my lips.
“Not when you’re around.” Her hand finds the back of my neck and she coaxes me forward, her lips pressing to mine. It’s sweet and slow, and nothing like the desperation of before. She hums against my lips, making them throb with need.
“You taste like tea,” she murmurs against my mouth.
“Had some before you got here, after I talked to Tuck. Fancy a cup?” I tighten my arms around her, pressing her to my chest. She feels like home.
She shakes her head, leaning back to look up at me. “I’m okay right now. Maybe you can make me dinner later.”
I laugh, unsure if she’s serious or not, and I press a kiss to her forehead. “The only thing I make are reservations, love. I’m afraid you’ve found something I can’t do.”
“Impossible. Sean Murphy can’t do something?” I kiss the corner of her upturned mouth. “I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it, but don’t tell anyone. Wouldn’t want people to think less of me.” Her eyes light and her fingers tug through the short strands of my hair. “I can, however, order those piroshkies I was telling you about.”
“Sounds delicious.” She shuffles backward, the edge of the blanket getting caught a bit on her feet. She gathers it up with a grin. “I should get dressed.”
“You should stay exactly like this.” I follow along after her like a man possessed. When I reach her, I run my fingers along her shoulder, exposed from where the blanket has drifted down.
“Won’t Sydney be home soon?” She glances at the door and the trail of her discarded clothes.
“She’s out for a bit. Some last-minute shopping before she flies home tomorrow.”
I frown as she ignores me and starts picking up her clothes. “Still, we’ve broken every single client rule there is at this point.”
“I’m not your client, Sydney is,” I remind her.
She tips her head to the side. “I thought you wanted me to make you a suit?”
“Will you?”
“I’m thinking about it.” Little tease. She clutches her clothing against her chest.
“Will you do it naked?”
She laughs, the sound lighting the room. “That really would break all the rules.” I trail behind her to the loo, and she slips inside, trying to shut the door. I slap my hand on it, stopping it mid-close.
“I’ve been known to do that now and again. Break the rules.”
“I never would’ve guessed that,” she deadpans. “You order food. I’m getting dressed.”
“Bossy thing, aren’t you?” She just smiles, steps back into the loo, and pushes the door shut. It should probably worry me that I’ll do just about anything she asks.
Two hours later, Cassidy is on my sofa, complaining about one too many Russian puff pastries. Although, I’m not sure there is such a thing. These are delicious, melt-in-your-mouth goodness.
“It’s ridiculous how good these are.” She groans, waving her hand at the coffee table. She’s currently got her legs stretched out over my lap and settles in. Her being comfortable here spreads like a wave of contentment through me. This feeling goes against everything I’ve ever known, everything I’ve told the guys in the band to avoid. Never bring them to your place. Even Syd knows that’s one of my rules, but here Cassidy is, tucked in and sated, and I’m struck with the overwhelming feeling of never wanting her to leave.
“So, have another.” I lean forward to pluck one from the container, but she presses her leg against me.
“No. No more. I can barely move as it is.”
“Not to worry, love. You can just lie back and enjoy. I’ll do all the work.” She laughs as I lean over her and press my lips to hers. I groan at the sound of my phone buzzing from the table. “Bloody hell.”
She smiles against my lips, her palm flattening against my chest. “It might be important.”
“Is anything more important than my lips on yours?” Her cheeks rise with color, and she leans back against the arm of the couch.
“It might be your security guy.” It’s barely a whisper from her, but it derails my plans instantly.
“Right. Tucker.” I reluctantly pull away from her lips and reach for my phone. It is indeed from Tucker.
Tuck: Let me know when you have a minute. I’ve got info.
I fire him back an answer.
Sean: Video chat or text?
Tuck: Video.
Sean: Give me 5.
I feel Cassidy sit up and she leans against my side, her hand trailing over my bicep. “He’s got info for us.”
Her eyes widen. “Already?”
“Told you he was the best.” Her expression flips instantly, fear replacing the relaxed bliss she was just in. God, I hate this look on her face and the worry etched in her forehead. I set my hand against her neck and stroke the curve of her cheek. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together, okay?”
She nods, her fingers digging into my arm.
“Let me get my laptop.” I retrieve it from the study, and return to find Cassidy gnawing on her lips and twisting her fingers together. Her anxiety ratchets up my own as I fire up our chat app, and Tucker’s face appears.
“Hey, man.” His eyes widen as he sees Cassidy. “Oh, hey. It’s nice to meet you, Cassidy.”
I take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You too, Tucker. Although I’m sorry it’s this way. Thank you for doing this.” Her voice softens. “Just let me know how much it costs and—”
Tucker looks confused. “Ah, no. There’s no charge for this.”
“I wouldn’t feel right about—”
“Hey”—I press a kiss to her temple—“discussion over, love.” I turn back to Tucker’s expression. He looks caught between amused and dumbfounded. “What do you know?”
“First, there are no pictures,” he says, dropping into that familiar matter-of-fact mode he always operates in.
“What? Yes, there are,” Cassidy argues, glancing between us.
He shakes his head. “There’s not. We’ve done every possible search and then some. If there ever were any, they’re gone now.”
“That’s not… What?” Cassidy’s eyes widen in confusion as she looks at me. “Dale said there were pictures as recently as this morning. He talked about my birthmark.” She closes her eyes, suppressing a shudder before she continues, “How… how is that possible if there aren’t any pictures?”
My brain seems to have faltered with the knowledge this Dale fucker seems to know about the birthmark hidden on her inner thigh. I’ve run my tongue over it and traced the contour of the edge when her legs are over my shoulder. That some prick has seen it stirs up a sea of rage inside me.
“Dale Canton. Your father’s chief of staff, yes?” Tucker asks.
“Yes. He’s been with him for fifteen years.” I slide my arm around Cassidy and pull her closer to my side.
“He’s a slimeball, for starters. The guy was into some sketchy shit a few years back.” Cassidy’s hand flies up to her mouth. “Canton was dipping his toe into the world of sexually suggestive instant messages to some former support staff of other senators.” Tucker pauses, his mouth smashed into a firm line before he continues, “And there are photos of him. The kind of stuff that would ruin a career if they ever got out.”
Cassidy looks to be in shock; the color drains from her face as she listens in horror to Tucker. I can only run circles on her back, feeling helpless to the cause. What a clusterfuck. “But he said—” Cass curses from behind her hand.
“A lot of crap, I’m assuming. These pictures aren’t anywhere, Cassidy. Not on the dark web, not anywhere we can find them. We’ll keep looking, but I think
he’s been lying to you. Why? I have no idea. Who knows how these bottom dwellers work.”
“To control me,” Cassidy blurts out. “That’s what he’s been doing. Trying to keep me in line, when he’s the one who’s out of control!”
“All it would take is a phone call to one of the reporters I know, and Dale would be out on his ass by morning. It at least deserves an investigation.” He shakes his head. “He’s as good as gone. Just give me the word, and I’ll make a call.”
“What if he does have pictures and releases them, though? I can’t have that out there.” Panic flares in Cassidy’s eyes. “It would ruin me and my dad. The election is coming up. He wouldn’t survive the scandal.”
“I could talk to Canton. Give him an ultimatum. If he has pictures, he turns them over and walks away from your father’s staff quietly or I’ll release what I have to the press. Trust me, Cassidy; if people saw these pictures and what he wrote, he’ll be done. He’ll never work in politics again, and he’s got to know that.”
“What will I tell my father?” she asks, her voice a hoarse whisper. “This doesn’t feel right. It’s blackmail. I’ll be just as bad as Dale is.”
“Hey.” Even over video, Tucker takes on that commanding presence that causes everyone in his general orbit to pay attention. “First, nothing. You tell your father nothing. As a senator, the less he knows the better. Canton hands over the photos to me, and then he resigns. Even if he doesn’t have pictures, what he’s been doing to you is wrong. He can give whatever excuse he wants on his resignation, as long as it doesn’t harm your father or his campaign. And blackmail is what Dale’s been doing to you for ten years. I prefer to call what I’m doing karma.”
“I don’t know about this.” Cassidy glances up at me as if I have the answers. “I need to think about it. Is that okay?”
Tucker nods. “Absolutely. Take as long as you need. In the meantime, we’ll keep looking, and if I find anything, I’ll let you know. But, Cassidy?” She glances back to the screen. “Whatever bullshit he’s been telling you is just that—bullshit.”