The Bad Guy

by Celia Aaron

  “You? Tennis?” Link popped a toothpick between his lips. “Seriously?”

  “Yep.” Hal tucked his wallet into his back pocket and gave a small wave. “Nice to see you ladies. And gents, I’ll catch you at the office on Monday.” He hurried away through the crowd.

  “What was that all about?” Link claimed Hal’s seat at the bar and pulled Camille between his thighs.

  “Tennis, I guess.” Camille answered a little too quickly, then took a gulp from her martini glass.

  “That guy playing tennis?” Link rested his fingers along Camille’s hips. “Not a chance.”

  I followed the movement of his fingertips, the slight pressure he exerted on her. A vision of him with a knife protruding from his neck made me smile.

  Link returned my grin. “You imagining him on the court too?”

  “Yes, funny.” I took a high ball glass from Veronica and sipped at the smoky liquor inside. It burned on the way down, but I’d always enjoyed pain. It was one of the few things that made me feel human.

  Camille set her half-full glass down. “I think I’ve already had enough. That thing was strong.”

  “You kidding?” Veronica took the drink and tossed it back, a twisted lemon rind dangling from the side. She slapped the glass down and leaned one elbow against the bar, her eyes roving me. “Tell me more about being the boss.”

  Flirting was not a particular skill in my repertoire, mainly because it required me to appear warm and interested in people who bored me. But, to get Link off my scent and keep Camille in my sights, it was a necessary evil.

  I adopted what I hoped was a devilish smile. “I enjoy taking charge, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Meow. Aren’t these uncomfortable?” Veronica slid her hands up my tie. “Wouldn’t you like me to get it off?”

  I cycled through my possible responses and settled on: “Hit me with your best shot.”

  She licked her lips and worked her fingers into the perfect double Windsor at my throat.

  Camille hissed, “Link’s boss.”

  Veronica made quick work of the top button, her fingertips dancing along my skin. There was no spark, no attraction like there had been with Camille. I didn’t need to own Veronica, didn’t feel the need to leave my marks on her tan skin.

  “Much better.” Veronica smiled up at me, her red pout begging for attention I wouldn’t be giving.

  “Thank you.”

  Link nuzzled into Camille’s hair and whispered in her ear. She shifted to her right foot as her skin flushed crimson.

  I snap up the empty martini glass, smash it on the bar, and jab the sharp end into his chest. He screams. Blood gurgles from his wound, coating my hand with crimson. Camille looks at me with horror as I smear Link’s blood across my face, then pull her in for a kiss.

  “Sebastian?”

  I heard my name and blinked twice. “Yeah?”

  “Where’d you go there, buddy?” Link stood, taking Camille’s hand in his.

  “Just thinking of good times.”

  “I know what you mean.” He nodded. “If you two don’t mind, I think I’d like to take Camille out for a quiet dinner.”

  “Ditching already?” Veronica wrinkled her nose.

  “I thought you were going clubbing?” Link pressed his lips to Camille’s hair as he spoke to Veronica.

  He always had to touch her, and it was getting under my skin.

  “Trying to get rid of me?” Veronica handed the bartender a nice tip.

  “No.” Link’s hands said otherwise, roving along Camille’s waist and stomach. The fucker was torturing me. “I thought you had plans. And I was under the impression Camille wanted to spend some time with me tonight.”

  Camille paused. “Actually, Link’s right. We’ve got some things to discuss.” She shot Veronica a look that I couldn’t decipher.

  Though I was in the dark, Veronica picked up on the cue. “Right. Since Link wants to get our darling Camille alone, do you have plans, Sebastian?” Veronica hooked her arm through mine.

  Fuck. I wanted nothing to do with Veronica, but Link had already staked his claim on Camille for the evening. I couldn’t tip my hand, not this early. I would have to let her go.

  “I’m afraid I have a pile of work to get started on tonight, so please accept a raincheck.” I patted her hand and slid it off me.

  “Your loss.” She leaned over and kissed Camille on the cheek. “Text me later.”

  “Okay.” Camille hugged her friend, who turned and sauntered out of the bar, leaving several men gawking in her wake.

  Link stood and helped Camille with her coat. I marked each point of contact, determined to cover over every spot where he touched her with my own firm hands.

  “Can you get us a taxi?” Camille squeezed Link’s bicep.

  He gave me a wary look, but agreed. “Sure thing. I’ll be outside. Good to see you, Sebastian.”

  “Same here.”

  Once he was out of earshot, Camille leaned closer, her sweet scent dulling my senses. “Sorry about this. I’d love to have dinner with you and Veronica, but I have some stuff to discuss with Link about Christmas break. And he might be, um…” She chewed on her thumbnail. “I don’t know how he’ll react.”

  “No apology needed.”

  “Sorry if that was TMI.”

  “TMI?”

  “Too much information.” She gave a wry smile.

  “Not at all.”

  “Well.” She glanced toward the front door. “I’d better go.”

  I caught her hand in mine and pulled it to my lips, kissing her knuckles gently. “Always a pleasure, Camille.”

  Her cheeks pinked, and someone elbowed past me to claim our vacated seats. I released her hand, and she backed away.

  My heartburn kicked in again. It was becoming a real problem. I had a stash of Tums in my penthouse for when these little episodes hit, though they didn’t seem to do much good.

  “I guess I’ll see you around.” She turned and maneuvered through the crowd.

  I closed my fist, retaining all the heat from her small hand as I watched her disappear. “Yes, you will.”

  7

  Camille

  Veronica’s apartment was empty when I arrived back there after a long dinner with Link. I dropped my bag on the table next to the door and headed to her bedroom. Sinking onto her queen sized mattress, I let out a long sigh, grateful for the relative quiet.

  Link had taken the news of my Amazon trip as well as I could have hoped. He’d been disappointed, complaining that it was time for me to move to the city. So sincere and caring, he’d meant well, but I wanted to do a little more exploring before I settled down.

  I turned and buried my face in the pillow when I remembered how he’d almost begged me to come home with him. His hands on my body, the way he crushed his lips against mine—it was like he was trying to cage me. My body reacted, but not to the point of losing control. I couldn’t figure out what was holding me back. Link was perfect: great job, smart, handsome, and patient. So why wouldn’t I give him what he wanted? I didn’t have an answer.

  I’d ended up back where I’d begun my evening, worrying myself to pieces while lying in Veronica’s bed. A set of keys jangled in the lock, and the click clack of Veronica’s heels met my ears.

  “You back already?” I rolled over and looked down the hallway.

  “Yeah, I wasn’t feeling the scene tonight. Too many hipsters are invading further uptown. Skinny jeans everywhere, and not on the women.” She made a gagging noise and flopped on the bed next to me. “How did Link handle the Amazon news?”

  “Pretty well. He wasn’t thrilled, but he eventually said he understood.”

  “That doesn’t sound so great.” After unzipping her boots she tossed them to the foot of the bed.

  “It wasn’t at first, but by the end of the night, he was asking me to go home with him.”

  “But you didn’t.” She threaded her bra out from beneath her dress.

&
nbsp; “No.”

  “Hmm.” She settled in next to me.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. I just think maybe you and Link will benefit from being separated over Christmas.”

  “How so?”

  “I assume you aren’t going to have very much phone access, if any. You’ll be completely cut off from each other. If, when you get back, you still can’t take the plunge.” She turned to look at me. “I think that means that he’s not the one. On the other hand, if you run back into his arms the moment you step off the plane, then you’ll know he’s it.”

  “Based on your scientific analysis, if I have sex with him the day I get back from the expedition, he’s my one true love, huh?”

  “Yes. Scientific. I’ll tell you another fact, too. If Sebastian the boss had asked me to bend over and show him my Brazilian, I would have done it in a heartbeat.”

  Sebastian had been flitting around the edges of my mind all night while I was at dinner with Link. When Veronica had made a pass at him, an unusual sense of jealousy had trickled through me. And, if I were being honest, I was relieved when he’d turned her down for the evening.

  “He seems sort of private.” I shrugged. “I only met him last weekend at the Lindstrom Gala. He was nice there, but reserved for the most part. We danced.”

  “There’s something about him. I can’t put my finger on it, but I can assure you he’s the worst sort of trouble.” She stretched her arms over her head and closed her eyes. “The kind I like.”

  “Link doesn’t care for him.”

  “Of course he doesn’t. Sebastian stared at you every chance he got. I only hit on him to take some of the heat off Link. I could feel the testosterone churning between them.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” I almost put my thumbnail between my teeth, but stopped at the last second.

  “No, it’s not. They were both keyed in to you. I can sense these things. For one, even when I was up against Sebastian’s rock hard body, his cock didn’t seem even a little bit interested. Odd. For two, he got sort of—I don’t know—twitchy when Link was getting handsy with you.”

  “Maybe he’s anti-PDA.”

  “Or maybe he wants to be the one feeling you up.”

  “I think your imagination is getting out of hand. This was only the second time I’ve ever seen the man.” Despite my words, I heard the ring of truth in what Veronica was saying. I’d felt it, too.

  “It doesn’t take a week-long interview to get the hots for someone.” She turned over and sighed, her familiar whiskey-breath oddly comforting.

  “You’re about to fall asleep in your makeup.”

  “That’s okay. I got this ridiculously expensive crap from Nordstrom’s that I’ll put on in the morning. Make me look five years younger in fifteen minutes. Best part was that I used Dad’s credit card.”

  Veronica and her father had a rough relationship, given that he’d left her and her mother to run off with his secretary when Veronica was eleven. Once the secretary had left for a younger man, Veronica’s father showed back up, wanting to be in her life. Veronica agreed, but exacted monetary vengeance whenever she saw fit.

  “Does he know about that purchase?”

  She smiled, eyes still closed. “He won’t get the credit card bill till the fifteenth.”

  “You’re a piece of work.”

  “Thanks.”

  I snorted. “I don’t know if I was complimenting you or not.”

  “Thanks anyway, bitch.”

  She could always make me smile.

  A slight snore stuck in her throat as she fell asleep. I rose and washed my face, then threw on my sleep shirt before crawling back into bed.

  She roused a bit. “Stay away from him though.”

  “Who?” I clicked the lamp off, shrouding the room in darkness.

  “Tall, dark, and deadly.”

  “Sebastian?”

  But she was already asleep again, her snores sawing through the quiet.

  8

  Sebastian

  Anxiety coursed through me as Anton wove through New York City traffic toward my high-rise penthouse. I’d become more and more of a wreck as the days passed and I didn’t have any contact with my prize. But I did have something that could take the edge off, if only Anton would do his fucking job and get me home.

  My land attorney droned through the speaker phone. “The acreage in the upper basin isn’t for sale. We’ve tried at length to get Mr. Sartain to negotiate with us, but he wants to keep the land and raise sheep. Won’t even talk about splitting up the parcel and selling the wooded parts, and definitely won’t entertain a lease. He’s resolute in his refusal.” His voice shook the slightest bit. Telling me “no” was never a good thing, and like any well-trained dog, he knew the price for disobedience.

  “Resolute in his refusal?” I kept my tone even as Anton turned onto Fifth Avenue.

  “Yes sir.”

  I could imagine the sheen of sweat on the attorney’s pasty brow, the dread in his eyes. “If I’m not mistaken, doesn’t Lindstrom own the tract to the southwest of Mr. Sartain?”

  “Yes sir.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and spoke slowly so he could follow. “Is there not a narrow river there flowing from our property to his? The Green Branch?”

  “Yes sir.” No clarity, no light bulb going off. Just a dead affirmation from him.

  “Would you say, Travis, that he relies on that river to water his sheep?”

  “Yes sir. Oh, I see.” Fucking finally. “I’ll make some calls. Surely we can divert the river for a while. I’m not sure if we’ll need permits or what, but—”

  “Permits?” I wasn’t entirely sure that I wouldn’t backhand the man if he were sitting in front of me. “Block the fucking river. Starve him out. If he complains, tell him it’s a beaver problem. Tell him it’s the dry season even if it’s pouring rain. Tell him we’re working on it. I don’t care what excuse you use.”

  “Yes sir. He’ll file suit over it, though. I just wanted you to know that before we started down this road.”

  “Of course I know that!” I took a deep breath as Anton pulled up in front of my building. “His sheep will be dead and gone before he can even get so much as an injunction against us. Cut the water. When he comes to the table, get me a lease on his timber. I want it now, and I want it when the next stand comes of age thirty years from now.”

  “Yes sir. I’ll handle it as soon as—”

  I clicked off the call and climbed from the car. My doorman greeted me as I hurried past and toward the elevator deck. I felt like a bomb ticking down to its last seconds. The elevator opened, and I used my key to access the penthouse level. Standing close to the silver doors, I sighed with relief when they finally opened onto my living room. The lights of Central Park shone through the night, and the skyscrapers across the way gleamed in the moonlight.

  I tossed my jacket and tie on a side chair and turned left, past the kitchen and into what was supposed to be a guest room. Flat screen monitors hummed with soft life, though their screens were black. Sitting down in my leather chair, I tapped a key on the laptop and watched as my obsession came to life.

  “Fuck.” She was at Link’s place. A million tiny bugs crawled beneath my skin as I saw them sitting together on his couch, his arm around her shoulders. They were watching a movie, a discarded popcorn bowl sitting on Link’s coffee table. His apartment was easy enough to have wired. A little cash in his super’s palm got my men inside with cameras and microphones. Camille’s cottage near Trenton was even easier.

  Was it wrong? Yes. Did I give a shit? No.

  I settled in, staring at her as she smiled or laughed at something she saw on screen. She was so expressive, her eyes telling the story for me such that there was no need to watch the movie. I followed along with her emotions, matching my expressions to hers.

  For over an hour, I simply stared, immersing myself in her. Ignoring the dolt beside her was easy until he decided to make i
diotic sounds with his mouth.

  “Why do you do that?” Link paused the movie and grabbed the empty popcorn bowl.

  “Do what?” Once free from his grasp, she leaned on the sofa’s arm, finally looking relaxed.

  He walked toward the kitchen. “You sort of fidget whenever the bad guy’s on screen.”

  “No I don’t.”

  I clicked a button so I had them both in view. Grabbing another bag of popcorn, he popped it into the microwave.

  “You so do. Remember Avengers? Loki?”

  She shrugged. “Not really.”

  “You fidgeted then, too. The Joker—I’m talking Heath Ledger and the Jared Leto one. Fidget.”

  “No I didn’t.” She turned to glare at him.

  “Ramsay Bolton, Game of Thrones? Fidget.”

  “Okay, now I know that one’s a lie.” She shook her head. “I wanted him dead just like everyone else.”

  “But you fidgeted.”

  “Maybe I was itchy.” She turned and settled back into the sofa as the soft pops of the corn tinkled through my speakers.

  I leaned forward, touching her image as she denied her attraction to black hats, villains, and demented devils. Her white knight was onto something for once in his useless life. She was made for me, just as I’d been fashioned from the darkest materials for her. Her light would temper my shadow.

  “That serial killer in The Fall.”

  “Oh, please. Jamie Dornan. That was Jamie Dornan. You were probably fidgeting over him, too.”

  He laughed and poured the fresh popcorn in the bowl before strutting back over to her. Because that’s what he was, a strutter. No fucking substance.

  Sitting, he flicked the movie back on and crowded her again. She pretended not to mind, but I knew she wanted his touch about as much as I wanted a stint in a padded room.

  The rest of the movie went along without incident—until he started kissing her neck. Fire ripped through my mind, setting reason alight and torching my self-control. He ran his hand along her waist then moved up to cup her breast through her shirt.