Twisted Little Games - Book 2 (Little Games Duet)

by Dee Palmer

  We hit one other shop where Logan picked out some ridiculously expensive underwear, and I fell in love with a cute pair of black lace open toe Luna Jimmy Choo shoes. They are higher than anything I’ve ever worn. I doubt I’ll be able to walk in them without the aid of a net, but I’m damn well going to try.

  The colour drained from my face when we got to the till.

  Logan appealed to my aesthetic appreciation of the shoes at least, as a work of art. He told me I could treasure them away for special occasions, if it made me feel better, or put them on display for all to see, after tomorrow evening.

  Either way, he was buying them, and I would be wearing them.

  My feet falter when I look away from the retreating taxi and see an unfamiliar man standing at Logan’s front door. Logan slips his hand in mine and strides confidently to approach the immaculately dressed stranger. The man turns and offers a stiff yet friendly smile. His hand outstretched toward me. Logan steps half in front, blocking the hand like it was some sort of weapon.

  “Miss Parker?” The man addresses me, confusion and suspicion crinkling the corners of his unseasonably tanned face. I know its summertime, only we never get that much sun in London. His thick grey hair matches his bushy, intense brow. His demeanour strikes me as someone used to brooking more respect than Logan is currently displaying. Stepping around Logan, I offer my hand, despite a low, audible grumble of displeasure emanating from the rigid wall of man beside me.

  “Yes, and you are?” I nudge Logan with my elbow and flash him a stand-down-solder scowl, which he completely ignores.

  “I’m Sebastian Waterhouse. I’m the Kraus family solicitor.”

  “Oh.” I swallow the instant panic down along with the lump in my throat. His handshake is firm, and his warm smile is completely disarming.

  “ And that would make me your solicitor.”

  “Oh.” I mouth because confusion has robbed me of my voice.

  Tia invites the Kraus solicitor inside. Her hands are visibly shaking when she pushes the front door open. I place my hand over hers and calm her with a firm squeeze. I lift a short, sharp shrug in shared confusion when she mouths a silent, “What the hell does he want?” Since there are no accompanying police cars, I can only assume she’s not in trouble. I offer to make some coffee, and Tia leads Mr Waterhouse into the living room. Only one way to find out.

  It takes a moment to fire up the coffee machine, and when I return with a tray of steaming hot drinks a few minutes later, the room is cloaked in an uneasy silence. The clinking of coffee cups makes my presence known, and Tia nearly jumps out of her skin at the light sound. Someone’s more than a little nervous.

  “I told Mr Waterhouse I wanted to wait until you were here. We haven’t talked about anything.” Her knee bounces, and she grips her hands together as if squeezing the colour from them will help her nerves.

  “It’s okay, darling. You don’t need to explain. I’ll stay if you want me, but I’m guessing this is all about you.” I direct the comment at Mr Waterhouse, raising a brow as do.

  “It is. However, Miss Parker was insistent, so if you don’t mind staying, I won’t take up too much of your time.” He reaches for the briefcase at his feet, unclips the dual lock, and lifts a slim brown folder, which is neatly tied together with an elaborate red ribbon. Very old school.

  “Sure.” I sit next to Tia and love the feeling in my chest as she shuffles as close as she can, threading her hand in mine and bringing it into her lap. Her worry is etched in deep lines, crinkling between her brows and huge wide eyes. Her knee bounces up and down, and I have to place my free hand on her thigh to make it stop. Her lips twitch with an apologetic grimace, and I shake my head and address the lawyer to try and quickly ease her rocketing anxiety.

  “Is Tia in trouble?”

  “What? No, why would you think that?” He shakes his head and looks horrified at my suggestion. This has to be a good thing, but I want to be sure.

  “You’re a solicitor. Which usually goes hand in hand with something bad.” I explain flatly.

  “Or something good.” He offers a warm, knowing smile.

  “Not in either of our experiences it doesn’t,” I add, and he dismisses my curt tone with a friendly shake of his head.

  “I can assure you, in this instance, it is definitely something good.”

  “Okay, good.” Tia lets out a huge sigh, which lifts the tension from the room; however, her rigid body would indicate she is yet to be convinced.

  “Tia, baby, I have no circulation in my fingers.” I wiggle my hand in hers, and she lessens the fieriness of the grip but doesn’t let go. I won’t let her.

  “Oh sorry.”

  “It’s going to be all right. I’m never going to let anything happen to you.” I turn to face her when I speak and lock my gaze to hers as if there is no one else on the planet let alone in the same room. She draws in a deep, steadying breath, and her face softens as her smile widens.

  “Thank you.”

  “So Mr Waterhouse, what’s prompted this unexpected visit?” Renewed confidence straightens her spine when she turns, forcefully addressing her question directly at our visitor.

  “Unexpected?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hmm, well, I have been waiting for you, Miss Parker, to contact the office. ” His thick brows furrow above his eyes. Although his expression is stern, he radiates confusion rather than anger.

  “Why?”

  “To start the transfer documentation.” He states this like it’s such a ridiculous thing to have to clarify. His tone lilts with humour. If he was of a different generation, I think he would’ve added a ‘duh’ at the end.

  “Hmm?” Tia looks at me and then at Mr Waterhouse for illumination, since we’re both in the dark.

  “I thought Mr Kraus had explained this. You are the rightful heir and as such—”

  Tia coughs and sputters. “I’m sorry; Atticus told you I’m the heir?”

  “No, Mr Kraus proved you were the rightful heir. Everything else is just paperwork.” He taps his index finger on the folder on his lap.

  “And Mrs Kraus is okay with all this?” Tia’s tone is tick with sarcasm and disbelief.

  “Mrs Kraus is in custody.” Mr Waterhouse’s reply carried a solemn delivery, but he may as well have pulled the pin on a grenade for the impact.

  “What?” Tia leaps to her feet, shock pitching her voice high and loud.

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss this, Miss Parker. Mrs Kraus is a client, for the present at least. Mr Kraus is sorting alternate representation, but in the meantime, she is very much my client, and solicitor-client privilege prevents me from disclosing anything further.”

  “What is she being charged with?” I ask as Tia slowly descends back into her seat. Her jaw is dropped comically open and frozen with her dazed expression of utter shock.

  “Arson, attempted murder, and fraud.” The severity of the charges is evident in his deadly serious tone.

  “Holy shit.”

  Tia remains mute, and Mr Waterhouse uses the silence that stifles the room to add a little flesh to the bones of this skeleton.

  “I can tell you Mr Kraus was not involved in the fire. He had no idea you were in any real danger until it was too late. He also wasn’t involved in embezzling the funds from the company pension. He was just trying to sort the problem before it took the company down.”

  “But he knew about the money. He was involved, right?” I watch Mr Waterhouse recoil at the accusation in my tone. He visibly collects himself and calmly slips his professional hat firmly on his head.

  “I am not at liberty to discuss the matter.”

  “Where is he?” Tia’s voice is so soft it barely drifts the short distance to Mr Waterhouse. He hears her, though, and lightly shakes his head when he replies.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is he safe?”

  “I don’t know.” His expression softens and he looks almost apologetic.

  “I d
on’t want any of this. This mess is nothing to do with me.” Tia waves her hand at the ominous folder, and her clipped angry tone dismisses Mr Waterhouse’s best intentions.

  “He’s doing everything he can to sort the mess Miss Parker. Give him time.” He leans forward with obvious agitation and concern. “This is why I’m here. This is your company now. It’s yours to run, to sell, or whatever you wish to do with it. I am here to guide you.”

  “But I don’t know you,” she retorts, and I can hear her voice catch with the surge of emotion, which is radiating off her in waves. I can’t imagine what’s going on in her head right now. I’m struggling to take it all in, and I don’t have a fraction of the feelings involved. I wrap my free arm over her shoulder and pull her tiny frame closer to mine. If I could put a protective shield around her I would, if I could keep us both in our own little bubble, I would do that too. However, this stuff won’t go away, and she needs to accept it. She also needs to understand I’m right here, so we can deal with whatever she decides, together. Her tender smile lights her face as her body melds to mine, and the glance she fixes on me is filled with love and understanding—confirmation enough.

  She understands.

  “I appreciate that, Miss Parker. Nevertheless, I am someone Mr Kraus trusts, and he has asked me to help. I will do everything in my power to do just that.”

  “He’s able to run the company?” Tia asks after a little time to take in the sincerity of Mr Waterhouse’s words. My gut instinct is I like the guy. For a solicitor, he seems to be pretty straightforward. His body language hides nothing; no twitching fingers, nervous ticks, and he can maintain eye contact without looking creepy. He also seems to hold genuine concern for Tia, the only thing that really matters here.

  “He is. He has a good team, but ultimately, it’s up to you. It will obviously take time, but whatever you decide, it’s safe to say you need never worry about money again. Your future is very secure.”

  I’m sure Mr Waterhouse believed his information would give Tia an inordinate amount of comfort; however, the result is a prickly retort and a glare that would shoot daggers if it could.

  “I never wanted his money.”

  “Your money,” I clarify, and she shakes her head as if the truth sits so uncomfortably inside her brain she won’t let it settle. Mr Waterhouse shifts in his seat, his expression perplexed, but he powers on, holding the folder out for Tia to take.

  “Here is a summary of the Kraus assets and the initial documents I need you to sign.”

  “I don’t want to take the company from Atticus. He should have it.” Despite her initial aversion to the documents, she tentatively takes the folder. Mr Waterhouse’s body loses a few inches of height and tension with an audible exhale.

  “Read the documents; take your time. He is happy to continue running the company until you have made your decision.”

  “Have you spoken to him?” Her fingers twist the ribbon securing the folder closed, but she doesn’t loosen the bow.

  “Only email.”

  “Riiiiiight.” She elongates the word, deep in thought and understanding. Atticus left the country. I checked, and until he settles the debt with the Russians, I doubt he will surface any time soon. Part of me didn’t want to know; part of me felt it was very much as case of ‘keep my enemies closer’ so I had to know, and in the end, I knew not knowing would tear Tia apart, so I had to find out what I could, for her. It wasn’t much. It seems he’s not the only one good at becoming a ghost.

  “He turned his mother in?” Tia speaks after a while, a mix of awe and joy tipping her lips into the first smile since we stepped out of the taxi.

  “Without hesitation from what I understand,” Mr Waterhouse replies, adding wistfully, “He loved that house.”

  “He loved more than that.” I cast a sideways glance at Tia, which Mr Waterhouse catches with a knowing smile.

  “Quite,” He mutters and then briskly shuts his brief case, brushes his trousers free of any creases, and stands. “Right. I’ve taken up enough of your time” He holds out his hand and takes Tia’s hand in a two-handed grasp. “Miss Parker, it was a pleasure to meet you.” He turns to me, and I realise we hadn’t actually been introduced.

  “Logan,” I tell him, and he smiles.

  “Logan, it was very nice to meet you.”

  I step around the sofa, and Tia is beside me. We walk toward the hall when Mr Waterhouse reaches into his jacket pocket and fishes out a small velvet box.

  “I understand it is your birthday tomorrow.” He holds the box out for Tia to take. “He wanted me to give you this.”

  “Oh, thank you.” She hesitates, but takes the gift. Her eyes glaze with unshed tears as recognition hits her like a fucking freight train. The small velvet box evokes an obvious insurmountable sadness, which drains the colour from her cheeks and seems to strike unbearable pain on her troubled, flawless face.

  “I’ll see you out, Mr Waterhouse.” I stride toward the door and swing it wide open. Mr Waterhouse takes the hint and is hot on my heels, worry crinkling his pale grey eyes as they flit between me and Tia. He calls back to Tia who is rooted on the threshold of the living room where he gave her the gift.

  “For what it’s worth, I am very sorry. If there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to call me.”

  “She has everything she needs right here,” I grit out, hostility instantly raging at his comment, tempering my ability to remain remotely civil.

  “I can see that. Happy Birthday for tomorrow, Miss Parker.” Tia doesn’t reply. She’s lost in her world of memory and regret, staring at the diamond bracelet that she probably wishes she’d never laid eyes on. He barely steps outside and I have slammed the door. Tia’s eyes rise up to meet mine when I step flush against her, my arms once more protecting what’s mine. The sorrow in her gaze makes me feel like I’m too damn late.

  “You want to talk about this?”

  “Not really. Is it possible to feel numb and devastated? I just want to go back to bed and lose myself in your arms.” She sucks back a sob, which is clearly fighting to take over. Her strength is humbling as she fights demons that threaten to consume her. So much shit, so much betrayal, and so many lies to burden such slight shoulders. I scoop her into my arms, lifting the weight of her troubles and her. I’ll gladly take the weight. It’s my job to ease her pain and I’m more than happy to undertake the easiest quest on the planet.

  “That we can do.”

  I scroll through my playlist and find the one I need to run the fog of thoughts from my head. I made love to her most of the damn night, losing myself in her euphoria when she fell apart on my fingers, on my tongue, when I was buried so deep our souls were one. Every other second was consumed with the white noise of life threatening to burst our bubble of bliss.

  I tighten my trainers, slip my iPod into the back pocket of my running shorts, and take a long, uninterrupted drink of the view before me. Tia asleep, in my bed, fucking best view ever.

  She stretches and the sheet barely covering her breasts slides down her silky skin. When she releases a heavenly sigh, I feel the ache at the base of my spine and the inevitable swell in my cock. I step quietly across the room, hitch one knee on the frame and loom over the angel in my bed.

  “Happy Birthday, beautiful.” I press my hands on either side of her head. Her sleepy smile stretches wide and eclipses the bright sun peaking through the blind in a concentrated slither of light.

  “Mmm, where’s my cupcakes?” she moans out in a muffled mumble, not bothering to open her eyes. Birthday cupcakes in bed is a tradition, only this birthday, she gets to eat them in my bed.

  “I’m surprised they lasted. Maria risked it, sending them a day early,” I half joke.

  “I know, right? She must’ve double booked herself today to miss out on the opportunity to hand deliver. Any chance to get an eyeful of you.” She wiggles her eyebrows playfully and I chuckle.

  “Can’t blame her for that.” I wink and kiss the tip of
her nose. “Look baby, it’s still early, and I didn’t let you get much sleep last night, for which I’m not remotely sorry. Since it’s your birthday I won’t drag you out of bed and force you to join me on my run. So how about you grab another half-hour of shut-eye, and when I get back, I’ll bring tea and cupcakes up, and I can give you your present.”

  “You gave me my present yesterday.”

  “That wasn’t the present I was talking about.” I squeeze my cock and grin when her cheeks flush with colour.

  “Whether it’s my birthday or not, it will be a dark day in hell before you drag me running in the morning, or at any time for that matter.”

  I push myself off the bed and walk to the door. I glance back and drop my chin, my intense glare piercing through the long strands of hair, which have fallen across my face. Her breath catches when I drag my tongue tortuously, slowly over by bottom lip.

  “We’ll see. I can be quite persuasive.”

  She swallows thickly and sucks in her lip into her mouth.

  “Not going to argue that one.” She absently rubs her backside over the thin sheet, and I suppress the moan that wants to rip from my chest. The flashback of my palm branding the perfect globe of smooth white skin is making it damn near impossible to walk out of the room.

  “Damn, I’m never going to be able to run with this hard-on.” I point at the impressive tent forming in my pants. I leave the room as she dissolves into a fit of adorable embarrassed giggles.

  There is a chill in the summer air, which cools my skin as I pound the pavement. A random motivation playlist is blaring and yet it’s unable to penetrate the dark thoughts clouding my headspace. I try to push them into a compartment for another time.

  I know they won’t go away, and that’s fine, just not today.

  For the first time since Tia has been in my life, I am able to take her out for her birthday, and I want it to be more than special, I want it to be everything. I want to show her how much I love her, with no drama, no history and no doubts.

  I just want to give her a glimpse into our future.