Note to self. Do NOT mention Catriona.
I finished the casserole, rinsed my bowl, and slid it into the dishwasher. After wrapping the bread, I grabbed another bottle of beer and trudged upstairs to my bedroom. Shucking my clothes, I jumped into the shower and let the hot water wash away the grime of the day.
My mind turned once again to Catriona Landry. Somehow, I had to get her to sign over her property to me. Without her property, I couldn’t build the hotel and while the money already sunk on this venture wouldn’t make a dent in ROGUES’ profits, for me, it wasn’t about money.
It was about winning.
I dried off, left my hair damp, and downed a third of my beer while staring out the window. Solar lights illuminated the pristine back yard, the lawns and borders tended to by green-fingered gardeners, their aim to provide a relaxing space that I never found the time to enjoy.
Maybe Margo had a point. Perhaps the time had come to consider whether I still wanted to be playing the field in five or ten years.
I laughed.
What was I thinking? Of course I did. Marriage, kids, soccer dad stuff was for other men, not for me. I’d leave the parenting and shit to my best friend, Oliver.
Speaking of which…
I slid under the covers and grabbed my iPad from the nightstand. A quick glance at the clock showed it was half past midnight in New York. Oliver might be asleep. Then again, he might not.
I tapped the FaceTime app and called him.
He answered, bleary-eyed, his hair mussed up. “Hang on,” he whispered.
I got a view of his carpet and hallway as he left his bedroom and went downstairs to his study. His face appeared again. “You know what time it is, right?” he groused.
“Yeah. Sorry I woke you.”
“No, you’re not,” he said with a grin. “What’s up?”
“The butcher signed,” I said.
His face broke into a shit-eating grin. “Great news. And the ballet studio?”
I tongued my teeth. “Almost.”
Oliver inclined his head. “On a scale of one to ten, what number is ‘almost’?”
I shot him an evil wink. “She thinks it’s a one. I’m pretty confident in a nine.”
He rolled his eyes, used to my unfaltering ways. “So she’s still holding out? What if she’s determined not to sell?”
“She’ll sell,” I insisted.
“I hope you’re right.”
“Buddy, I’m always right.” I hesitated, wondering whether to tell him about my earlier impromptu meeting with Catriona. Then again, Oliver and I didn’t keep secrets from each other.
“I met her tonight. She showed up at my offices and accosted me as I left.”
“Accosted doesn’t sound like a woman on the verge of signing a contract.”
“She’s fucking hot, man. When she flayed me with her tongue, I could barely walk, my dick got so hard.”
Oliver laughed and then immediately frowned. “I thought she was an older woman?”
“I thought that, too. I left James to deal with the face-to-face stuff, and he’d hardly notice, would he? For one thing, she’s got the wrong equipment for his tastes.”
“True,” Oliver replied, and then he groaned. “Poor woman. Does she know what she’s in for?”
“Not yet. But she will.”
“I hope you’re right. There’s a lot at stake.”
My lips thinned, and I narrowed my eyes. “Trust me. The next time we speak, the ink will be nice and dry on the contract.”
And Catriona Landry will be naked in my bed.
5
Catriona
I stepped off the bus at the end of my street and, on sore feet, made my way home. A single light shone from the first floor of our little house, and a gap in the curtains allowed me to peek inside. Grams was sitting in her rocking chair knitting, and I could just make out Aiden propped up against a plethora of cushions watching TV. My heart squeezed tight. I loved these two people so much, and I’d do anything within my power to ensure their happiness and wellbeing.
I inserted my key in the door and stepped inside.
“Catriona, is that you?” my grandmother called out.
“It’s me.” I poked my head inside the living room and grinned. “Who did you think it was?”
“I hoped for Ryan Reynolds,” Grams said, a wicked glint in her eye. “That boy is fine. Funny, too.”
Aiden made a choking sound and shoved his fingers inside his mouth. “Ugh. Grams, stop. Please.”
I leaned over the couch and kissed the top of his head. “How are you, little bro?”
“Good,” he said, struggling to sit up, which caused another twinge of despair to settle in my gut. The sooner we got these tests back from the doctor’s office, the better. “You’re home late, Cati.”
I lifted his feet, sat, and put his feet back in my lap. “Yeah, I had a few errands to run.”
“What kind of errands?” he asked, his brow furrowing in worry.
I hadn’t told him of the businesses selling out from under our feet. I didn’t want to burden him, especially given his recent health challenges. But Grams knew. It was impossible to keep anything from that wily old woman.
I shot her a quick glance. Her surreptitious shake of the head told me she hadn’t mentioned anything. He must just be picking up on vibes or on my body language. I forced my shoulders to relax.
“Nothing for you to be concerned about. Just a few bills and stuff.”
“Oh.” He let his head flop back, the brief conversation seemingly exhausting him. “We ate already.”
“I know. Grams told me when I texted her earlier. It’s okay. I’m not hungry.”
My grandmother shot me a look, then put her knitting to one side and heaved herself into an upright position. “Girl needs to eat to keep up her strength,” she said, hobbling into the kitchen.
“I’ll go help Grams,” I said to Aiden.
I followed my grandmother, propping my shoulder against the doorjamb as she busied about dishing up the meal she promised she’d keep warm. I nibbled my lip, wondering whether to tell her about Jeff now, or leave it until Aiden had gone to bed. I should have known keeping anything from her was an exercise in futility when she turned her emerald eyes on me, so like Mom’s and mine, and jerked up her chin.
“Out with it, girl.”
I heaved a sigh. “Jeff signed.”
She didn’t appear surprised in the slightest, greeting the news with a brief nod. “Man’s got a family to feed. Can’t blame him.”
“I’ve got a family to feed,” I said angrily. “But selling to that… that… bastard isn’t the answer.”
“Language,” Grams chided, her Catholic roots coming to the forefront.
I’d never heard Grams swear. Now Gramps, he’d been a different story. A typical Irishman, he’d cussed regularly, and even Grams’ open displeasure hadn’t curtailed his swearing.
A twinge pinched inside my chest. Gramps died a couple of years after Mom and Dad. Pancreatic cancer. Poor Grams. It made me wonder whether God really existed when he allowed one woman to suffer as much as she had. Not that you’d ever know. She kept her grief tightly contained, but losing your only child and then, two years later, your husband must rip out a heart. Hell, it’d ripped mine out.
“So, we’re the last?”
I nodded glumly. “Yep.”
She pulled her lips to one side. “Maybe the time has come for us to let it go, girl.”
“No!” I exclaimed, and then, internally cursing, I peered into the living room to see if Aiden had heard. His eyes were closed, and he looked as if he’d fallen asleep. I returned to my grandmother, lowering my voice this time. “That school means everything to me, and you,” I hissed. “You built it from scratch, and I will not let him, or anyone else, take it away. It’s David and Goliath, Grams. We owe it to the little guys to hang on.” My shoulders bowed. “Besides, what else would I do?”
Dancing was all I knew how
to do. It was all I wanted to do. My students meant the world to me, and without them, I’d be nothing more than an empty husk, breathing but not really living.
She bustled over and enveloped me in a warm hug. “I just want you to be happy, that’s all.”
“I am happy.” I moved away and pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger, pointlessly trying to stave off an impending tension headache. All the angst with Garen ‘Thinks he’s God’ Gauthier had brought me to the edge of exhaustion.
“Here, eat,” Grams said, pushing a plate of meatloaf and cabbage toward me. “Then go to bed. It will all look better in the morning.”
I dragged out a chair, sat at the tiny table tucked into a corner of the worn but bright kitchen, and delved into the meal. My mouth watered, and only then did I realize how ravenous I was. I wolfed the entire thing and washed it down with a glass of iced water while Grams sat adjacent watching me eat. When I finished, she took my plate, washed and rinsed it in the sink, ran a towel over it to remove the excess water, then returned it to the shelf where we kept the crockery.
“Go to bed, Cati.” She leaned over and kissed the top of my head. “Take Aiden with you, too. He shouldn’t sleep on the couch.”
I stood and wrapped my arms around her, kissing her wrinkled yet still soft cheek. “I love you, Grams. What would we do without you?”
“Be gone with you, girl,” she said gruffly, removing her apron and hanging it on the back of the door. “There’s life in the old dog yet.”
I laughed. “I should hope so. You’re only seventy-five.”
Gently shaking Aiden’s shoulder, I encouraged him to stand and, supporting his weight, I took him to bed. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. I perched on the end of his bed and watched him for a few minutes, my heart squeezing painfully. Most boys his age were out with their friends, riding bikes, getting into scrapes, maybe plucking up the courage to kiss a girl or two. Not sleeping twelve hours a day, too exhausted to do anything other than eat a few morsels and keep up with personal hygiene.
I was no doctor, but something was very wrong. As I switched off his light and closed the door behind me, I vowed to call the doctor’s office first thing in the morning and see if applying a little pressure couldn’t move along the results from the blood tests he had done on Monday.
I changed for bed, sat at my dresser, and brushed out my hair, then tied it on top of my head in a tight bun, a routine that was necessary to keep it from knotting. I climbed under the covers. The quiet allowed my mind to work through the events of the day. I couldn’t believe Jeff had sold out, and even more hurtful was that I’d had to hear the news from that bastard, Gauthier, who had taken clear delight in knowing he’d blindsided me. I didn’t blame Jeff. Not really. Like Grams said, he had a family to feed, and the astronomical sums of money being offered for our businesses was hard to resist. If the ballet school didn’t hold such sentimental value for me, then maybe I would have signed on the dotted line, too.
But hanging on to my memories was worth more than all the money in Gauthier’s bank account. He could threaten and cajole and increase his financial offers as much as he liked. My business wasn’t for sale.
Despite my determination, a shiver of anxiety took root in my gut. Garen Gauthier was a man who was used to getting his own way, and something told me his efforts to secure my business had only just begun.
6
Garen
Two days and not a single damn word from Catriona Landry.
I threw the pencil I’d snapped in two onto my desk, launched to my feet, and yanked on my suit jacket. Screw all this waiting around. I’d pay her a visit myself. Find out what was so damned special about this dance studio. Not that it mattered. Either she’d sell willingly, or I’d find some leverage to force her hand. I’d yet to meet a single individual who didn’t cave in the end, either for financial reasons or simply because I found a chink in their armor and exploited it to the fullest.
Take Jeff the butcher, for example. I’d discovered he had mounting gambling debts, and I’d threatened to tell his wife if he didn’t sign over the property to me. Some might call me a bastard for finding a sensitive spot and pressing down firmly. I called it business. I could have reduced the offer, but I didn’t.
See, I wasn’t all bad.
All I needed now was to find Catriona’s weakness, and the final piece would fall into place, allowing the building of the hotel to begin. It was only a matter of time, but time was money, and when that last five percent was holding you up, it added a sense of urgency.
Darryl, my driver, pulled up right in front of the dance studio, even though it was a no-parking zone. He would circle the block until I was ready to leave, or he’d find a parking lot close by and wait for my text to come pick me up. I glanced along the row of independent businesses, all with their shutters down save for one. Part of the deal had been that as soon as they signed the contract, they closed up immediately. When others saw their neighbors selling out, it added extra pressure to their shoulders. An effective strategy and one I’d used on several previous occasions.
I entered the building via a side door. The one at the front was locked for some reason. The entranceway brought me to a narrow hallway. Voices reached me, the sounds of excited children renting the air. I groaned. Kids drove me crazy with their constant screeching and sticky fingers, and their over-exuberance about every goddamn thing.
I followed the noise and scanned around, my eyes alighting on Catriona. Dressed in a purple leotard and black tights, she was helping one of the younger children, showing her where to put her feet. I stood watching her patiently explain over the growing din of the other kids, their chattering increasing in volume with each passing second.
Should have brought my Beats noise-canceling headphones.
She straightened and clapped her hands twice, and all the kids immediately fell silent and stared at her with wide eyes and attentive expressions.
“Right, everyone, today we’re going to practice the five positions of ballet. Now, who’d like to show me the first position?”
One of the girls at the back immediately shot her hand in the air. “Me, Miss Landry. Me.”
Catriona smiled, nodded, and gestured. “When you’re ready, Ellen.”
The little girl stepped away from the group next to her and found a space in the middle of a long bar that ran the length of the room, behind it, a set of floor-to-ceiling mirrors. She held on to the bar for balance, then turned her feet outward, the heels almost touching.
Catriona clapped. “Very good, Ellen. Now, who would like to show me second position?”
Another kid’s hand shot in the air, but before Catriona could gesture for her to begin, her head swiveled in my direction and her eyes locked on mine, then narrowed.
“Wait one second, Donna,” she said, holding up her finger. “Girls, chat among yourselves. I won’t be long.”
She strode over, then walked right by me and out into the hallway, and past the changing area. Spinning around, she slammed her hands on her hips. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I came to ask about ballet lessons,” I drawled in a tone dripping with sarcasm while arching a brow. “What do you think?”
Her eyes sparked in defiance, and she jabbed a finger at the door. “Leave, now. I’m teaching.”
I shoved my hands into my pockets. “I’ll wait.”
She leaned forward, and I caught a whiff of her perfume, the same scent that had been on the contract she’d so determinedly returned to me. Floral and delicate with a hint of lemons. I breathed in deeply. Fuck, I’d like to bury my nose in her neck, and then between her legs.
“Go away, Mr. Gauthier. You are not welcome here.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Miss Landry.”
She ground her teeth, her stormy green eyes searching mine. If she was searching for signs of compassion, we’d be here a long time.
“Fine, suit yourself. The class la
sts an hour.”
She shoved past me and returned to the room full of squealing children. I followed her, spotting a small office off to one side. I headed over to it and made myself comfortable behind the desk. A hint of annoyance flicked across Catriona’s face when she noticed where I’d decided to wait, and then she turned her back and gave the class her full attention.
I tried to answer a few emails and read a draft contract on my phone, but concentration had proven nigh on impossible given the excited squeals of the children. By the time the parents came to pick up their frenzied charges, I feared I’d lost my hearing or, at the very least, suffered irreparable damage.
Catriona waited until the last one had filed out and then, with a weary sweep of her hand over her face, she traipsed into the office. She stood on the other side of her desk, arms folded underneath her tits, the action pushing them upward. I dropped my gaze.
Wonder if she’s doing that on purpose.
She cleared her throat, forcing my attention up to her face. Not a bad exchange for her tits. She had a unique beauty. Soft skin, a perfectly formed oval face, cheekbones carved out of glass, and wide, intelligent eyes filled with challenge, the likes of which could keep me interested for a week or two.
“That’s my chair,” she ground out through a jaw clenched tight enough to cause a few teeth fractures.
I appraised it dismissively. “A bit soft for my tastes. I like things firm.” I lowered my eyes to her chest once more.
She heaved a sigh. Hmm, did I detect a hint of resignation, or at least fatigue? Maybe I was wearing her down already. How disappointing. I’d hoped for a few more altercations. Conflict entertained me, yet these days, apart from my fellow ROGUES board members, very few people were willing to take me on. In Catriona, I’d hoped to find a worthy adversary, at least for a little while longer.
Sadly, it was not to be.
Entrapped: A Billionaire Romance (The ROGUES Series Book 3) Page 3