by Ana Huang
“Ms. Ambrose.” His smooth, decadent voice filled the air with its richness. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” He flicked his gaze over my shoulder like he expected to see someone behind me.
When he didn’t, a shadow of what looked like disappointment crossed his face before it disappeared as quickly as it came.
“Good morning. I’d like to ask a favor.” I got straight to the point. Every second counted, and Christian Harper didn’t seem like the type of man who enjoyed beating around the bush, anyway.
“A favor.” Amusement shimmered in his eyes like whiskey shot through with firelight.
“Yes.” I lifted my chin, trying to contain my nerves. I realized the irony of asking for a favor when a favor was what landed me in my current predicament, but the universe had always had a crappy sense of humor. “You helped Bridget and Rhys with their…problem last year, and I would be grateful if you could assist me as well. It’s a, um, digital problem, and you’re supposed to be the best of the best when it comes to those things.”
A little flattery never hurt, right?
“I was returning a favor for Rhys, not granting one.” Christian seemed unmoved by my compliment. “The question now, of course, is why I would assist you.” His smile, though polite, only sharpened the razor edge of his question.
I faltered. “Because…you’re a nice person?”
He had reduced my monthly rent to a fraction of its price with no strings attached. At least, none that we could see.
Maybe I should’ve fleshed out my plan more.
Christian’s smile faded. “Your biggest mistake, Ms. Ambrose, would be assuming I’m a nice person,” he said softly.
A shiver of unease slithered down my spine. Still, I forged ahead. I had no choice. “You don’t need to be a nice person to help me. I’ll owe you one.”
It was a reckless promise, considering I knew next to nothing about him. I could end up as beholden to him as I was to Max. But he was friends with Rhys, and Rhys was a stand-up guy, so that had to count for something. Right?
“Rhys was my top employee, a former Navy SEAL, and the future Prince Consort of Eldorra,” Christian said. “What can you offer me?”
“Professional legal advice?”
“I have a team of lawyers on retainer.”
“A custom-made thank you cake from Crumble & Bake?”
“I don’t eat dessert.”
That was just wrong. What kind of monster didn’t eat dessert?
I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to think of something else. “My eternal gratitude? I’ll sing your praises to all my friends.”
Christian tipped his head to the side, his gaze assessing.
You’ve got to be kidding me. I’d meant that as a joke.
“One favor from you in exchange for a favor from me,” he said. “To be decided upon on a future date of my choosing.”
Wariness crawled into my stomach. It sounded suspiciously like what Max had asked of me, minus the whole creep factor. “What kind of favor?”
I swear to God, if Christian asked me to sleep with him—
“Nothing sexual or illegal.” His reassurance didn’t ease my anxiety. I had a shitty history with the F word. “That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”
Agreeing to an open-ended favor was a dumb idea, but I didn’t have the luxury of long-term planning when faced with a short-term emergency. Besides, Christian was the CEO of a reputable organization, not some low-life criminal like Max.
I hope I don’t regret this.
“I’ll take it.”
A satisfied gleam entered Christian’s eyes.
I couldn’t shake the eerie sense I’d just struck a deal with the devil. But whatever favor he wanted in the future would be worth dispelling the black cloud of the sex tapes once and for all.
Right?
“Excellent.” He opened the door wider. “My next meeting isn’t until eight-thirty. You have eleven minutes.”
I followed him through his penthouse and explained my situation—the tapes, Max’s blackmail threats, my desire to erase the recordings once and for all. I omitted the part where I used to steal for money; Christian didn’t need to know, and I didn’t have time to get into it anyway.
“I see.” He sounded almost bored by my dilemma.
I was half annoyed that he didn’t appreciate the gravity of the situation and half hopeful that his calm response meant he had a solution.
Christian didn’t speak again until we reached his private library. Colorful books filled two walls of floor-to-ceiling shelves, and windows carved massive nooks on the remaining walls and bathed the room in piercing morning light.
A man stood in the middle of the room, dressed in a suit as expensive-looking as Christian’s. Annoyance etched deep lines in his face as he spoke rapid-fire Italian into his phone, but he hung up abruptly when he saw us.
“Dante, I trust everything is all right,” Christian said, like the other man hadn’t sounded like he was ready to murder someone in broad daylight.
Dante flashed a tight smile. “Yes, of course.” He slid his eyes toward me, his curiosity a warm weight against my skin.
He looked a little older than Christian, maybe mid to late thirties, but that only added to his physical appeal. He wasn’t as classically good-looking as Christian, but he exuded a rugged masculinity that would make most women swoon. The thick dark hair and muscled frame didn’t hurt, either.
“I didn’t realize you had company,” I said to Christian. It seemed too early for a business meeting, but what did I know? I wasn’t a CEO.
“I was just leaving.” Dante held out his hand. Silver cufflinks engraved with tiny V’s glinted on his shirtsleeves. “Dante Russo.”
“Jules Ambrose.”
He gave me a curt nod and slid an indecipherable look at Christian. “We’ll finish our conversation later. My grandfather just died.” He delivered the news like he was announcing a trip to the grocery store.
My eyes rounded with shock, but Christian didn’t even blink. “Of course.”
After Dante left, Christian walked to the computer in the corner and typed something. A minute later, the printer spit out a sheet of paper, which he handed to me along with a pen.
His cufflinks flashed in the light, and I realized they were engraved with the same V’s as the ones Dante wore.
“Sign this, and I’ll take care of the tape.”
I scanned the text. “You have a contract for favors?” It was a standard agreement listing the terms of our deal, but if I reneged on it, I would be held liable for...I blinked to make sure I read it correctly. “Two million dollars? You’ve got to be joking.”
“I don’t joke about business, and anything that involves my time and skills is business.” Christian nodded at the paper. “As I’m sure you’re aware, Ms. Ambrose, contracts protect both parties. If I’m unable to fulfill my end of the agreement, the contract is void. If I renege on the deal, I am also liable for two million dollars. It’s only fair.”
Yeah, except two mil was a drop in the bucket for him whereas it was an impossibility for me.
“Those are my terms. We haven’t signed anything yet, so you can still walk away.” He gave an elegant shrug. “Your choice.”
A favor of his choosing or I would owe him two million dollars…
My head pounded with indecision.
What were the chances he would ask me to do something really awful? He said anything sexual or illegal was off the table.
There was a fifty-fifty percent chance I would regret this, but my desire to get rid of Max overrode everything else.
I scribbled my signature on the designated line and handed it back to him. Christian signed after me, and that was that.
We were officially in business.
“It’s quite difficult to erase something forever once it’s in the digital realm, but it’s not impossible,” Christian said.
Not for me.
I heard his implication loud and clear.
Some of the anxiety in my stomach loosened. I didn’t know him well, but I knew Christian Harper was damn good at what he did. He hadn’t built the world’s most elite security company from the ground up by slacking.
“I will, however, require your assistance with one part of the plan. I can have my men do it, but it’s much easier this way.” Christian smiled. “Here’s what you need to do…”
45
JULES
I returned to Max’s hotel the next afternoon.
Christian’s instructions were simple, if not easy, and there was no point dragging the inevitable out.
Either the plan would work, or it wouldn’t.
I knocked on Max’s hotel door, intensely aware of the man hidden in an alcove at the end of the hall. Christian had sent one of his men to accompany me. Kage would wait out of sight until I entered Max’s room, after which he could monitor what was happening through the nifty camera disguised as a necklace pendant. Apparently, he had some sort of device that could disable the door’s key card scanner in case the situation with Max turned nasty.
“Jules.” Max gave me a genial smile, but suspicion lurked in his eyes. “I didn’t expect to see you here again. Come back to collect on your…benefits?” His gaze dipped to my chest.
My skin crawled beneath his leering scrutiny, but I forced myself to remain semi-civil so I could get inside his room. “No, but I have something important to tell you about the painting.” I glanced around the hall like I was paranoid someone would hear us. “Let’s talk about it inside.”
Max narrowed his eyes. For a second, I was afraid he’d deny my request, but after several long, agonizing beats, he opened the door wider for me to enter.
I stepped inside and scanned the room, searching for his computer. If he packed it away…
Relief settled into my bones when I spotted the open laptop on his desk. Thank God. If I didn’t see it, Kage would’ve had to distract him so I could search for it, but this made my job much easier.
“So, what do you want to tell me?” Impatience threaded Max’s voice when I remained silent.
I turned to face him while I edged backward toward his desk. “I think the painting I gave you is a fraud.” I stuffed my hands in my sweatshirt pocket as casually as possible.
My fingers closed around the tiny gadget Christian gave me, and I let out a small cough to hide the soft beep it made when I pressed the power button.
The device was a wireless hacking tool Christian had developed himself. He’d explained how it worked, but the technical terms had gone way over my head. All I knew was, it had to be within five feet of the hacking target, and it couldn’t be turned on until it was or it would attach to a different network. Or something like that.
I trusted Christian knew what he was doing, so I followed his instructions to a tee despite understanding only half of what he said.
“The one you stole from your boyfriend’s place? It’s not.” Max smiled at my jerk of surprise. “You thought I didn’t know you were fucking your little doctor boy toy? I had to case his place after I tracked the painting down. I saw you going in and out of his house at all hours of the day. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out what you two were doing.” His smile turned nasty. “Once a whore, always a whore.”
Blooms of outrage colored my cheeks. “Is that the best you can come up with? The name-calling is getting old, Max. Find a new insult or don’t use one at all, especially since I came here to help you.”
Come on, Christian.
He said it would take two minutes for the device to connect to the computer, then an additional five to ten minutes to find the video, depending on how many files Max had. In hindsight, I was lucky Max sent me screenshots to fuck with me the past few weeks—Christian could use them as a basis for his search. Otherwise, it would take his software far longer to scan every video if it didn’t know what it was looking for.
We agreed he would text me only after he found and destroyed all copies of the video. I’d personalized his alert tone, so I would know it was done without having to check my phone.
“Help me?” Max stared at me, his suspicion mounting. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I don’t want you to come back later and pin the blame on me. I want this”—I gestured between us—“to be over with as soon as possible.” I snuck a peek at the clock. Shit. It’d been less than five minutes. I needed to drag the conversation out longer. “How do you know for sure the painting’s not a fraud?”
“My friends confirmed it,” he said coldly. “Besides, everyone thinks it’s junk. No one would copy junk, Jules.” He walked toward me, his steps heavy against the paper-thin blue carpet.
I forced myself to hold my ground. Kage was right outside, but being trapped in a hotel room with Max made my heart lurch with panic.
“What’s so special about the painting anyway? It’s hideous.” I should’ve worn something other than a sweatshirt. It clung to my skin, suffocating me. The heat rose from my torso to my face, and I felt like I was burning alive in an incinerator of my own making.
“Value doesn’t always equate to beauty.” Max looked me over from head to toe, his implication clear. “The painting is one of a limited number that belonged to a famous European collector. It’s worth a lot of money in certain circles, but it was sold at an estate sale by mistake and switched from owner to owner until we tracked it down to your boyfriend’s house. Took a lot of paperwork tracing and bribes to get to that point, but we did it.” His eyes glinted with malicious amusement. “Imagine my delight when I learned about your connection to the current owner. It was like fate dropped you into my lap.”
Yeah, no kidding. Fate liked to fuck me over as a hobby.
“Did you tell him about the painting?” Max asked. “Or did you suck his cock so good he handed it over without complaint?”
“At least he knows what to do with his cock, unlike some other people I know.” My voice dripped with poisonous honey. “Sucking it is no hardship at all.”
Max’s words still poked at old insecurities, but I refused to let him shame me for enjoying sex, dammit.
Guys slept with multiple partners and were lauded for being players; girls did the same and were decried as whores. It was a double standard as old as time, and I was fucking sick of it.
Satisfaction flared in my stomach when his face turned a mottled red. One universal truth about men: nothing dented their ego and pissed them off more than questioning their manhood.
“Careful, Jules.” Icy rage flowed beneath Max’s words, but his mask was slipping. I could see it in his eye twitch and the vein pulsing in his forehead. Beneath all that fake “niceness” was a fragile little shit who was one insult away from exploding.
I swallowed a ball of trepidation. It’s fine. Kage is right outside.
“One press of the button. That’s all it’ll take before everyone knows what a whore you are. I wonder what your boyfriend will say when he sees another guy fucking you in the ass and coming all over your face. Or what Silver & Klein will say when they see what their potential employee likes to do in her spare time.” He cocked his head, his eyes glittering with malice. “Maybe I’ll upload it to a porn site. Get paid. It’s hard for prior felons to get a job these days. Gotta do what I gotta do to put food on the table.”
The metal gadget dug into my palms. Oxygen ran thin at the prospect of the video being uploaded online for the world to see. Of strange men jerking off to one of the worst moments of my life.
I shouldn’t have provoked Max so early. What if Christian couldn’t erase the video? What if he missed a copy? What if—
The soft notes of Christian’s personalized alert tone burst from my phone.
The one we set so I would know once the job was done.
My heart rattled harder against my ribcage. Now that the moment was here, I couldn’t untie my tongue. How much did I really trust Christian to get the job done? It would be so easy to miss a file. Nothing truly died in c
yberspace. And what if Max made a physical copy?
The walls pressed in, caging me in yellowing floral wallpaper and the scent of mildew.
Can’t breathe can’t breathe cantbreathecantbreathe…
Another, more impatient burst of music sliced through the silence. Christian was probably monitoring the situation via the camera and wondering why I hadn’t made my next move yet.
I sucked in a shallow lungful of air.
I’d come this far. There was no backing out now.
“Actually,” I said. “You might want to check your phone. See if that video is still there. Things disappear in cyberspace all the time.”
Beads of sweat dotted my forehead as Max stared at me. I could practically see him piecing the puzzle together—my unannounced arrival, the way I’d stretched out our conversation, why I was suddenly so willing to talk back.
Once it clicked, he jabbed at his phone, his eyes moving back and forth over the screen with frenzied speed.
Air flowed to my lungs again when he snarled.
It was gone. From his phone, at least.
Max didn’t say a word as he pushed past me toward his laptop. Each frantic tap on the keyboard sounded like a gunshot in the silence.
I inched toward the door but kept my eye on him. His reaction would tell me everything—whether Christian had destroyed every copy, or whether he had another copy of the video stashed somewhere.
When Max finally looked up, his features contorted into a mask of rage, my knees weakened with relief.
After years of the tape hanging over my head, it was finally gone.
I was home free.
“What did you do?” he hissed.
“I took back what belonged to me. Control over my body.” A thick pressure inside me eased, so suddenly and completely I would’ve floated off the ground had I not been terrified any movement would shatter this delicate dream. The pressure had been a part of me for so long I hadn’t realized it was there until it was gone. “I also want the painting back. It doesn’t belong to you or your friends.”