by James Tate
I shrugged then, not caring enough to argue any further.
When we were inside the elevator, Beck keyed in a code, and then he was able to hit the button for the top floor.
Everyone was silent for the ride, until the doors finally dinged open onto the top floor. We stepped out into a plush, expensive looking reception area where the middle aged, perfectly styled woman at the desk clearly knew who we all were. Or the guys, at least.
“Gentlemen,” she cooed, standing in a smooth motion and running her hands down the front of her designer suit dress. “You’re almost on time today. The board will be pleased.” She stepped out from behind the desk and made a gesture for us to follow her as she sashayed on spiked heels down a corridor.
“Gentlemen?” I grumbled under my breath, “What am I, invisible?”
Normally I wouldn’t have given a shit, but it was just plain wrong for a woman to belittle other women. What happened to female empowerment and girl power and all that shit? Clearly didn’t exist in Delta’s world. Even Catherine had to act like she had her own swinging dick to get any sort of say.
“Ignore her,” Dylan murmured, walking so close to me that his arm brushed mine with every step. “She’s totally brainwashed by our idiotic fathers.”
Jasper was leading the way, allowing the woman who was old enough to be his mother to fawn all over him. As we paused in front of a set of impressive double doors, she was pawing at his chest and chortling like he’d just said the funniest thing she’d ever heard. Judging by the uncomfortable, slightly grossed-out look on Jasper’s face, this was one pussy he wasn’t down for.
“Thank you, Candace,” Beck said in a cool, emotionless voice. “That will be all.”
The woman cleared her throat and patted her hair self-consciously before nodding politely at Beck and swinging her ass back down the hall to her desk.
“Let’s get this over with,” Evan muttered, pushing open the double doors with a dramatic shove.
The heads of our five families—five of the richest, most powerful, dangerously corrupt bastards in the world—sat along the far side of a long conference table, and their conversation cut off abruptly when we entered.
“Oh look,” Evan’s silver haired father commented with heavy sarcasm, “Only thirty eight minutes late. This must be some kind of record for you four.” His beady gaze turned to me and he corrected himself. “Five.”
A gentle push to my lower back from Dylan encouraged me to take a seat when they all did, and I found myself sitting directly opposite my vile, conceited birth mother.
“It was late notice,” Beck replied with that perfectly flat tone, betraying nothing. “And traffic was bad.”
The disturbingly handsome older version of Beck sitting opposite him snorted a sound of disbelief as he shook his head.
“You insolent child,” he spat at his son, “if I weren’t bound by Delta traditions and seventeen hundred pages of legal documents, I’d be refusing your succession to this council.”
A cold, cruel smile curved Beck’s lips, and I needed to look away to stop from gasping.
“But you are,” he replied to his father, “bound, that is. Now, what have you called us here for? I’m assuming something needs to be done that you old fucks lack the finesse to pull off on your own.”
Catherine—nowhere near as practiced in “blank Delta face”—looked like she was about to shit an egg before Mr. Langham spoke over her.
“There is a charity gala this evening at City Hall. We’ve all been invited, as have Graeme and Christie. No doubt some of their spawn will be attending also.” His lip curled a little in disgust as he said those names, and it took me a moment to click the pieces together.
Oh, shit. Graeme and Christie Huntley were invited?
This ought to be interesting.
Was it a bit twisted that I was curious to meet the bastards responsible for almost killing all of us in that plane crash? Not to mention the murderers they sent after us to make sure the job was done. Oh, and their daughter of course. She was a real delight.
I opened my mouth to say something on the matter, but Beck’s hand closed over my knee under the table, silencing me.
“You called us in to attend a gala?” Beck asked, flat and skeptical.
“Bullshit,” Jasper commented from his seat where he lazed like it was a beanbag. He was slouched low, his hands folded behind his head and his legs wide. I was pretty sure he was only a minute away from putting his feet up on the table.
“Appearances are important,” Mr. Grant informed us. “Delta did not grow as large and as powerful as it has, without us always presenting a united front.” This time his gaze landed on me. “I’m sure you’ve learned the importance of a united front now, Miss Deboise?”
My temper flared, and I needed to sink my fingernails into my leg to stop from screaming at these megalomaniac fruit loops. Was Dylan’s dad seriously making casual mention about my attack at school like it was some kind of educational exercise? Fuck me, if I found out they had anything to do with it…
Beck firmly withdrew my fingers from my knee and wrapped my hand in his. We were hidden by the table, but still it sent a spike of panic through me that someone would see.
“But to answer your question, Son,” Mr. Beckett continued, “No, that’s not all. We have reason to believe Senator Green has been up to his old tricks again, but he’s been using his office at City Hall rather than his home—which you know we have closely monitored. He’s apparently created a hidden room behind one of the bookshelves, which is where he’s storing all the video equipment along with the recordings. We need you to get in there during the gala and procure one of the tapes.”
I was totally lost but was getting a vague idea that this Senator Green was a dodgy motherfucker.
“Of who?” Dylan asked.
“Natalia Petrova,” Evan’s dad replied. I was slowly figuring out which face belonged to which man, but I couldn’t remember most of their names. I’d never really cared enough to ask. As far as I was concerned, they were all evil, old, and fucks. Nothing else was important to know.
Evan let out a low whistle and Jasper made a small sound of surprise.
“Konstantin Petrov’s daughter? This senator either has shit for brains or balls of steel, I can’t decide which.” Jasper sounded genuinely impressed, and now I was even more confused.
“Konstantin Petrov is a Russian mob boss,” Dylan whispered in my ear while the attention was on Jasper. “If this senator has a recording of himself fucking Petrov’s daughter, it’s invaluable blackmail material.”
“Wait,” I blurted, bringing all eyes on me, “You’re telling me this senator fucks girls in his office and secretly films it? That’s revolting, not to mention illegal.”
Everyone just sort of stared at me for a moment, then Catherine snorted an ugly, condescending laugh, and Mr. Grant just rolled his eyes.
“Miss Deboise,” Beck’s dad drawled, “you have a lot to learn.” Turning back to his son, he clasped his hands in front of him. “You have your mission. Don’t fail.”
“Appropriate evening wear will be delivered to your rooms. You’re dismissed.” This came from Catherine, and I had to resist the urge to reach across the table and smack her straight in the arrogant, Botox filled face. Not because I had anything against evening wear, just her in general.
The guys all stood without any further arguments so I followed their example.
None of us spoke again until we were inside the elevators, at which point I opened my mouth to ask a million and one questions, but Dylan gave me a sharp head shake.
“Not here,” he told me, his Delta mask still in place. Looking around, all of them still had their Delta masks in place. Did that mean someone could be watching us?
Of course it did. This was Militant Delta, not some above the line legal company. Well, sure, their banking and investments looked above board, but they were so fucking deep in other illegal things, that they should spend the next
400 years in prison.
Once in the parking lot, we all piled back into the SUV and Jasper drove us out of the Delta Headquarters. It wasn’t until we were out on the busy street in front of the towering skyscrapers that the tension slipped from the guys and their Delta faces melted away.
“Okay, Butterfly,” Beck sighed, “Fire away.”
I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shifted slightly in his seat to face me and arched a brow. Fuck him for being so damn sexy. “You’re practically vibrating with all your questions, and we’re as safe as we’re ever going to be in Jasper’s car. So have at it. Ask away.” His lush lips curved with a teasing sort of smile, totally capturing my attention.
My mouth opened, but suddenly all my questions fled my brain and just left an echoing void instead. A void which quickly filled with memories of Beck’s hands on my naked flesh, his lips on mine, his…
“Fuck,” I whispered, covering my face with my hands and breaking the intense stare off I’d somehow become locked in with my former fuck buddy.
“Riles? Are you okay?” Dylan’s concerned voice was too close on my other side, and I jumped slightly, feeling my cheeks heat. What the fuck had just happened? I get told we have to break into a senator’s office to steal a sex tape, and suddenly I couldn’t form coherent thoughts without picturing Beck naked? Anyone would think his dick was made of cocaine and I was in withdrawals.
“Wait!” A thought finally resurfaced in my lust filled brain. “What does Delta want with this tape? I’m not believing for a second that it’s just for a rainy day. What’s the end game?”
Jasper grinned at me in the rear view mirror and Dylan nodded approvingly. “You’re getting it now,” Dylan commented. “I agree, and if I were to speculate … I would wonder if this has something to do with a rumored arms deal with the Ukraine. Theoretically, this particular senator would have the power to cut some serious red tape on flight plans, customs inspections, all that fun stuff. He could be a real ace in the hole.”
Evan and Jasper made noises of thoughtful agreement, but it was Beck’s total silence that drew my curiosity.
“Is that what it is?” I asked him directly, then remembered the whole gag order bullshit that he’d signed. “Blink once if Dylan is right and twice if he’s wrong,” I suggested.
Beck turned his steely gaze back to me and held eye contact with me … not blinking at all. Damn him.
Dylan chuckled, patting me on the knee. “Good try, Riles. Come on, we don’t have time to stop at the deli, so let’s order some room service before the wardrobe chicks arrive.” He clicked his door open, and I peered out to see we’d arrived at some fancy hotel. A valet opened Jasper’s door and took his keys, so I followed after Dylan and waited for my bag to be unloaded from the back.
“Come on, Spare,” Evan said, slinging his arm over my shoulders and directing me to the main doors of the hotel. “Hotel staff bring bags, babe. Appearances, remember?”
“Appears like we’re lazy as fuck,” I muttered, but let him guide me through the opulent foyer and over to the elevators. We took them straight to the penthouse—of course—which required a thumb print access pad before the elevator would even move. I was coming to appreciate all the security, though.
“We own the whole penthouse,” Jasper informed me, like I hadn’t already guessed that. “We had it renovated a couple of years back so there were rooms for all of us, but uh…” He avoided looking at me and shifted awkwardly.
“But … I would need to sleep in Oscar’s room?” I guessed what he was trying to say. “That’s okay. I mean, it’s a little weird, I guess? But I never met him, and it’s probably a whole lot safer staying on the same floor as you all.” I shrugged.
Beck made a small, rumbling noise of disagreement as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open on the top floor. “You’re not sleeping in Oscar’s room,” he said in that quiet, don’t-fucking-mess-with-me voice of his.
“Ooookay.” I rolled my eyes, but who was I to argue. Oscar was my brother, but he was Beck’s friend. Who was I to piss all over those memories? “I’ll sleep on the couch. No big deal.”
“No.” Beck snatched my hand in his, tugging me along behind him as he strode through the insane penthouse suite. “You’re staying with me.”
I struggled in his grip—not super hard, but enough to say I put up a fight—before snapping at him. “Beck, just chill. We can argue about sleeping arrangements tonight, right now I want to hear more about this room service.”
Beck reluctantly released my wrist—probably because I had a pretty good point about it not being remotely near sleep time—and took a seat on one of the soft leather couches. I barely got to glance around before he snaked an arm around my waist and dragged me into his lap.
Possessive bastard.
“Hey.” I laid a hand on his chest and spoke as firmly as I could. “We talked, we’re not okay. Quit acting like we are.”
He stared up at me for a long moment, his eyes a puddle of angst and emotion, but nodded just the slightest bit and loosened his grip enough that I could stand up and move to another seat.
Jasper handed me a hotel menu. “Pick what you want. I suspect wardrobe will be bringing hair and makeup for you, so you’ll need to eat quick. This is going to be an … interesting night.”
My brow wrinkled, but I opened the menu anyway. I was sick of constantly asking questions, so for once I’d just roll with it and take the night as it came.
17
Cool air blew across my exposed back as I slipped out of my long coat and handed it over to coat check. A shiver ran through me, and I resisted the urge to hug my arms around myself. Appearances were going to be the death of me.
All my bruises were covered with movie quality concealer—the stuff they used to cover tattoos—but I could still feel the damn things.
“Have I mentioned how fucking sexy you look tonight?” Jasper grinned, falling into step beside me as we ascended the huge internal staircase, heading in the direction of music and chatter.
I grinned back. “Only seven or eight times. But keep going, my ego could do with the boost, right now. I feel like I’m playing dress up or something.” Trying to cover my nerves with laughter, I smoothed my sweaty hands down the front of the scarlet silk evening gown. At least my makeup was so heavy I could almost pretend it was a mask. I sure as shit didn’t look like me with the heavy dark lashes and blood red lipstick highlighting the paleness of my skin. I was like an anime version of myself.
“Back off,” Beck snarled from behind Jasper. The blond playboy just gave me a cheeky wink and ducked out of the line of fire as Beck took my arm in his. “But he’s right. You look stunning, Butterfly.”
I huffed at the use of that nickname, despite my requests he not. But this wasn’t the time or place for yet another argument with Beck, so I let it slide. Not to mention, seeing him—and all of the boys—decked out in black tie had me all frazzled. Like, they were super fucking hot. Do something stupid and regret it in the morning sort of hot.
“Are we going to meet the mysterious Graeme Huntley tonight?” I asked, needing a subject change. I peered around like he might just be standing close by.
“He’s not all that mysterious,” Evan commented from my other side as we entered the main party room. “Growing up like we did, you run in the same circles as other families of considerable wealth. Huntley being one of them.”
“In saying that,” Dylan added quietly, “None of us had ever met Katelyn before or any of her siblings.”
Evan nodded. “Right. We’ve met Graeme and his wife at plenty of these functions but they pretty much keep their kids away from the business. Or the public side of business, anyway.”
“Huh,” I muttered. “I wonder why that is.”
Dylan answered my non-question in a soft, low voice, barely moving his lips as he looked around the room. “The difference between Delta and Huntley, and the reason why Delta will always be more powerful
, is that we came about from a union of five influential families working toward a common goal. Huntley is just the one family, trying to keep up. Despite all the current differences between the Delta board, it wasn’t always like that. In prior generations, Delta used to actually be the united front they keep banging on about.”
“So, what? Huntley has no such obligations to hand the family business over to the younger generation?” I was just trying to process all the information, but it seemed to keep conflicting. Then again, I’d been tossed in the deep end without a life jacket and everyone else had literally been born into their roles.
Beck gave a slight shrug of his broad shoulders. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Graeme Huntley has no intention of handing his company over until he’s on his deathbed. You think our fathers are bad? Just wait.”
“Okay,” I murmured, “Sounds fun. So, uh, what do we do now? I’m assuming we can’t just march straight through here to do that thing that we need to do?”
A small, amused smile tugged at Beck’s lips, and Jasper snickered aloud.
“Now, we get drinks and pretend we’re here to party,” Jasper informed me with an eyebrow waggle. “Care to join me at the bar, beautiful?”
I grinned and accepted the hand he was holding out. It meant dislodging Beck’s grip from my other arm, but if I was being totally honest, I needed some space from him. There was only so much I could withstand and as previously noted, Sebastian Roman Beckett in a tuxedo was fast breaking down my anger and resentment.
“Champagne or martini?” Jasper asked as he escorted me through the designer clad party-goers. Most of them were our parents’ age, but there were more than a few teenagers looking bored as all shit. Of course, none of them were here with a secret mission to steal a sex tape from a senator’s office.
Biting my lip, I considered telling him to just get me a soda water. It hadn’t been all that long since I’d totally sworn off letting alcohol influence my decision making ... but I was a walking ball of anxiety. My hands were shaking, and I could feel fine beads of sweat forming on my back where my gown dipped low.