Cuffed by His Charm: A Dirty Little Secrets Novel

by Stacey Kennedy

  Darius arches a brow. “Which is?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  As the car picks up speed again, the men chuckle around me, telling me they relate. And I suppose most things where women and emotions are involved tend to be complicated.

  Micah stretches an arm out against the top of the seat, his expression the supportive one I’ve seen for years. “If we can help, you’ll ask?”

  “Of course,” I agree. “But this, I’m afraid, is in McKenna’s hands. Until I know her next move, I won’t know mine.”

  Ryder watches me for a moment, studying me intently, then offers, “You’ve been put through hell and back with this entire situation, and so has McKenna. I have to believe that at the end of this, some good will come out of it.”

  Micah gives a firm nod and adds, “Besides, she’s a smart and strong woman. I have no doubt she’ll see this situation for what it is and do the right thing by you.”

  I shift in my seat, stretching out my legs. “Ah, but I gave her the chance to do the right thing already. I booked her brother a plane ticket last night for a treatment center in Arizona.” I hold up my phone, waving it from side to side. “And yet, there is no call, is there?”

  “Maybe she just needs time,” Micah says.

  I shrug again. “Maybe.”

  “We’re here.”

  At Levi’s voice, I glance out the window as he pulls to a stop, and I find a high-rise reminding me of Holt Enterprises, Micah’s billion-dollar real estate company. Black glass and steel lead up to the sky, and it’s clear enough from the well-dressed people moving in and out of the revolving door that the companies in this skyscraper do well.

  “Are we ready?” Ryder asks.

  I nod. “Let’s finally put this bullshit to bed.” I open the door and step out into the bright, sunny day, followed by three of the most powerful men in San Francisco. Just as I’m about to enter, Micah stops me.

  “Give us one minute,” he says to Darius and Ryder.

  Both nod and are inside the building a second later, and Micah turns to me.

  His expression is serious, voice even more so. “Regardless that at first you likely hurt McKenna, you fought like hell to prove yourself to her. You did more than I think any one of us would have done in your situation.” He pauses and cups my shoulder. “If McKenna can’t see that, Gabe, she doesn’t deserve you.”

  The air between us feels weighted with the years of friendship we’ve shared. We’ve gone from wild years in our twenties to now simpler times in our thirties. To Micah, I’m brutally honest. “Deserve me or not, she’s the one I want,” I tell him, and because there’s nothing more to say, I turn away and enter the building.

  Micah follows me inside, keeping his eyes fixated ahead of him. We’re focused on what we need to do and why we’re here. I stay in behind him, with Darius and Ryder flanking me, knowing Micah will take over for now, because when it comes to getting upstairs, he’s our way inside.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Holt,” the security guard at the front desk says, obviously well aware that Micah owns the building.

  “Good afternoon,” Micah says with a genuine smile. “I’m taking these gentlemen up for a look around the new office space upstairs. Do you need them to sign in?”

  The guard scans our faces and laughs softly. “No, sir, I’ll take care of all of that.”

  “Thank you,” is Micah’s reply.

  Within seconds we’ve passed through security and are entering the elevator at the back of the main lobby. Silence is thick and heavy between us, a world of tension that’s been building for months seeping into the air around us. When the elevator chimes open, Micah’s out as fast as he entered, striding toward the reception desk with us in tow. The closer we get, the wider the eyes of the woman behind the counter get.

  When Micah reaches the desk, he arches a brow. “Miss, do you know who I am?”

  “Y-yes,” the young woman says. “Ah . . . y-yes, Mr. Holt, what can I do for you?”

  “Since you know who I am, I’m sure you’ll understand that I would be greatly annoyed if I have to wait,” he adds. “Point me in the direction of Penelope Burke’s office.”

  “Um…” She blinks twice. “Third office on the left.” She points down the hallway.

  Micah’s down that hallway a second later, and we’re right there with him as he steps into Penelope’s office. “We need to talk,” he says to her while she sits behind her metal desk in a black chair, a stunning view of the Financial District skyline behind her. “Where’s the meeting room?”

  On any other day, I’d say she was cute with her big hazel eyes, round face, and a thick head of strawberry-blond curls, but today isn’t that day.

  She visibly swallows, taking in the men crowding her office. And that stunned surprise is exactly why we’re here together, and why we didn’t arrange for this meeting ahead of time. We need her caught off guard. We need to intimidate. And doing it this way means no one could warn Penelope we’re here. She couldn’t run and hide, and as much as I don’t want to be here today, I’ve been waiting months for this sweet moment.

  “Now,” Micah snarls, lip curled.

  She quickly recovers, washing any emotion off her face, and rises. “Please follow me.”

  Once she leads us farther down the hallway, we enter the meeting room on the left. I have to give it to her, she doesn’t even flinch when she watches us sit around the meeting room table. She shuts the door behind her and strides in without a hint of arrogance or nervousness. This twenty-something woman knows how to play the game.

  “So,” she says, stopping at the end of the table, resting her hands against the back of the chair, “what exactly can I do for you?”

  I reach into my pocket and hand her the affidavit that Ross Sterling drafted for me, and I give her the time to read it before adding, “As you can see, this is a copy of an affidavit signed by Evan Archer, where he admits that you knew that he was illegally bugging my pub, recording our conversations, and printing those findings in your magazine.” There’s a lot more I want to say to her, but I stick to the facts.

  Her eyes slowly lift, and even then, there isn’t even a flicker of concern in her expression. “I take it that since the police aren’t here yet you don’t plan on pressing charges?”

  Smart as shit, I’d give her that. “Do not mistake my generosity for weakness,” I tell her sternly, arching a brow her. “If you print anything further about any of us”—I gesture at the men around me—“you will regret it.”

  She draws in a deep breath, glances at the paper once more, then faces me. “Well, it was a good run while it lasted.”

  Micah growls, “Coldhearted bi—”

  “You will also not print anything about our families,” Darius interjects, eyes narrowed on her, “girlfriends, wives, or anyone else connected to us in any fashion whatsoever.”

  I agree with a firm nod. “This run, as you call it, is over.”

  “And on top of that,” Micah snarls, a vein protruding from his forehead as he leans across the table, “if you do have a lapse in judgment and print anything on any of us, our families, girlfriends, or wives, I will sue not only the paper but you personally. Believe me, Ms. Burke, by the time I’m done with you, your name will be ruined, and not a single paper or shit magazine in the fifty states will come near you.”

  An unusually quiet Ryder finally speaks up. “I will add, Ms. Burke, if even after all that you still think it might be a good idea to print another story about our lives, be aware that I can dig into every little nook and cranny of not only your life, but I’ll look into the lives of your parents, Margaret and Paul, even your little brother, Tyler. No one will be safe. Not your best friend, Kristen. Not your boyfriend, Eric. I will expose all their dirty little secrets until every one of the people you love is exposed like you’ve exposed us. Does that make things perfectly clear to you?”

  Her skin paled halfway through his speech, obviously realizing he knows names he shou
ldn’t know. She draws in a deep breath and lifts her chin. Then the woman who tried her best to destroy us all for ratings, all for a good story, utters the words we’ve longed to hear. “You won’t see your names in Gotcha! again.”

  Chapter 16

  McKenna

  Later that night, with the sunrise a few hours away, and with the busy night crowd in the pub now gone home to bed, I enter through O’Keefe’s back door using my passcode, which is the very code that made Gabe believe that I’d been behind selling him out. Now I have a singular focus as I move through the clean kitchen, nothing but silence around me, but Gabe’s here. He always restocks the bar before calling it a night, and the pub has only been closed for a half hour now. I know that for a fact, as much as I know that the reason that brings me is the best decision I’ve ever made.

  When I enter the main part of the pub, I find Gabe coming out of the storage room holding a case of beer. He’s looking down, unaware that I’m here. “Gabe,” I say softly.

  His head snaps up, intense eyes narrow on me.

  I tense at the coldness between us. It’s an empty distance that I’m not used to in Gabe’s presence. Uncertainty circles around us, and it’s uncertainty that I know I caused, and that I need to fix.

  “Evan told me how much you had to pay to Marcus,” I tell him, taking a step forward. “No matter how long it takes, I’ll pay you back.”

  “Do you honestly believe I care about the money?” He’s unmoving, so still that I can’t tell if he’s angry or what he’s feeling.

  I take another step closer, trying to get a read on him. “There are things to say.” I fight against the tears in my eyes.

  “Then say them,” is all he says.

  I swallow against the tightness in my throat. “Everything that you’ve done for me . . . from helping me find Evan to paying his debt . . . it’s just all so much.” I take another step closer, nearly there now, and my voice cracks. “You’re an amazing man, Gabe.” But that’s not enough; I bare it all. “My brother failed me. My mother failed me. Yet you give me hope that people can be good, trustworthy, and loyal.” Tears leak from my eyes, as I add, “You’re the most incredible man I’ve ever known.”

  Before my eyes, his cold barrier between us drops and emotion rages in his eyes. He places the case of beer onto the pool table next to him, and then he closes the distance between us with two of his long strides. “I have things to say, too.” He stops in close, only an inch between us now. “Since this all began, I have been outed as Afterglow’s owner. I’ve been accused of having a sex slave, abusing a woman, and I’ve looked the Devil in the eye and paid him two hundred thousand dollars. And do you know what?”

  “What?” I whisper.

  He slides his hands across my face. “I would do it all over again, McKenna, because it forced us to cross that line we’d been fighting against.”

  “I should have gone with you to the hospital.” Tears well in my eyes and spill over. “I should have known that you would’ve been patient with Evan. I should have known that you would never hurt him, because that would be hurting me, and you’d never do that. I shouldn’t have protected him.” I pause, staring him right in the eye, placing my hands over top of his on my face. “Now I pick you, Gabe. I wanted you in the first place, more than anyone or anything else, and I’m sorry that in the moment that it mattered I was blinded by doing what I always do . . . bailing Evan out. Now because of your kindness, Evan is leaving. And I think that is good for us all.”

  His thumbs freeze mid-stroke on my face. “Evan’s going to the treatment facility?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug, unable to move, only able to stare at him, feeling every single hair on my body rise under that intense stare. “I didn’t ask Evan what his plans are.”

  Gabe pauses. Then frowns. “I’m sorry, Kenna, but I’m not following.”

  One hand slides down my shoulder to rest across the small of my back as I place my hands on his chest and explain, “I didn’t ask if Evan was getting help because I’ve asked that question before, so many times, and it’s never once helped. What I told Evan is that it was time for him to move somewhere else. I told him to take the plane ticket you gave him, provided him with some cash, and I told him to move to Arizona and not come back.” Gabe’s brow furrows, warmth exuding in his gaze, when I add, “I told Evan that it’s my turn now. That I deserve a life without fear and worry. I told him that I deserve a life with you.”

  I see the way Gabe’s trembling, how badly he wants to take me, taste me, make me his, and I want him, too. “I don’t know how to repay you for all you’ve done for me.”

  “Be mine, McKenna,” he murmurs, cupping my nape, pressing his hard and warm body against mine. “That’s what I want, and all I ask.”

  “I’ve always been yours,” is what he deserves to hear.

  The side of his mouth curves in obvious masculine pride. He tucks his thumb under my chin, tilting my gaze to meet his. “Back when all this started, I touched you out of anger right here. So here is where I’ll now touch you out of love.” Staring deeply into my eyes, he murmurs, “And I love you, McKenna. Madly. Deeply.”

  “I love you, too.” I whisper what my heart has always known.

  Then it’s not anything we say bringing us closer, it’s his lips on mine in a way they’ve never been before. There’s always been something between us, something standing in our way. Some underlying feeling of why we shouldn’t be together. Now there’s nothing, but us and something so much more.

  I follow every swipe of his tongue, grabbing his T-shirt, desperately trying to get closer.

  He chuckles, seemingly understanding my urgency, and presses a soft kiss against my forehead. “Stay here a moment, will you?”

  I give him a look. “That depends on what you’re up to.”

  “Oh, I will always seek to surprise you,” he says with a grin. “Just to see that look again.”

  I realize he hasn’t answered me when he moves to the windows at the front of the pub and closes the blinds, shutting out the world. He keeps his eyes fixed on me as he returns to me and passes by, stepping in behind the bar. I stand on my tiptoes as I lose sight of him when he reaches down for something. Though as he rises again, I lower down, watching him come toward me holding two pairs of handcuffs.

  “Want to play?” he murmurs, arching a brow.

  Heat floods me, pooling low in my body at the hot desire storming across his face. Kinky sex makes him hot, and seeing him hot makes me hot, too. “Do you always keep handcuffs handy, just in case?” I ask with a soft laugh.

  His deeper chuckle now causes goosebumps to form across my flesh, as he moves closer. “I keep them here for rowdy customers, but I am a man who will use any situation to my advantage.” When he stops in front of me, he hangs the cuffs off one finger and asks permission, “May I?”

  I don’t even have to think about it. Cuffed by him, I shiver in anticipation, because Gabe has it all. The looks, the charm . . . hell, even the passion. But he has something no other man has. My implicit trust. “Yes.”

  “Very nice.” He reaches for my shirt in the same second I reach for his.

  By the time I’m naked, so is he, and all I see—and need—is his beautiful cock that’s reaching up to his belly button, thick and hard, with veins protruding on the sides, speaking of his desire. He tosses a condom wrapper onto the bar, and my stomach clenches with desire, as he then presses his hard planes against me, his erection teasingly on my stomach. I want to touch him, tease him even, but I see in the strength of his eyes that tonight this game belongs to him, not me.

  “Do you know how many times I wanted to take you right here,” he says, running his free hand over my bottom, squeezing tight. “How many times I thought about bending you over this bar and fucking you?”

  I moan against his words, his touch, as he clips the first handcuff around my wrist then attaches it to the brass steel bar decorating the edge of the cherrywood bar. I catch his sexy smile as h
e takes my other wrist, locking the cuff into place and then attaching it to the bar. His cheeks flush, eyes appearing darker than ever as he slides the stools out of the way, leaving me standing there, nude, trapped, and wet and ready for him.

  Though he doesn’t hurry this along. He waits, stepping back to examine me, and I’ve never felt so bared by any man. His eyes slowly give me a once-over, as if he’s memorizing every curve, every freckle. He cocks his head and gazes at my shoulder, then my puckered nipples, which garner a grin from him, and then his eyes flare with delicious heat as he examines my sex and licks his lips.

  “You’re very beautiful like this. The wood all around you, the cuffs, the warmth of your skin. The desire I see in those pretty eyes.” His eyes slowly lift to mine again, and the way they burn causes a shiver to shoot up my spine as he adds, “You drive me fucking crazy, Kenna, you always have.”

  I expect him to move to me then and take my mouth, but he surprises me again by moving in next to me and reaching over the bar to grab an ice cube. When his eyes connect with mine again, his smile is back, and I tremble with the promise I see in his gaze.

  He brushes the ice cube along my lips and then he leans in and kisses me, replacing the cold with the heat of his mouth. I give him what he wants, opening my mouth wide, allowing him to take everything from me. I swirl my tongue with his, keeping up with him, and his low growl lets me know I’m pleasing him.

  I moan, and he breaks the kiss, moving to my neck, where his breath tickles, and yet it’s a perfection I’ve never known. My sex clenches, wanting so much more, and wanting to give him everything.

  It’s a reaction he apparently senses, as he slowly, with his eyes on me, lowers to one knee. I gasp as he slides the ice cube against my throbbing clit, but then his tongue is lapping up the water there, and heat blasts intense desire across me. I moan, tossing my head back, and pull against the cuffs digging into my flesh. But just that, a little bit of pain mixed with the pleasure, and somehow I only want more.