I’d begun to date his sister when she set out for college, adding insult to injury. I thought he’d had a motive for leaking the tape. Shame his sister and discredit his father’s presidential campaign all in one go. It would have been a master stroke. But I had my reasons for doubting Keenan’s guilt.
Keenan was more like his father than he wanted to admit. Namely, he had a prideful streak about a mile wide. If Mina’s tape had any chance of reflecting badly on him, he would have set the thing on fire rather than release it. No, he’d have beat me bloody and then set my house on fire with the tape inside. And after seeing what it had done to Mina? I’d probably have deserved that.
Brenton Harvey had been soundly beaten by Keenan and myself earlier that same year, when he tried to slip Mina a roofie at a party we’d all attended. Mina had broken the glass and in the ensuing chaos, none of us were able to prove that he’d committed a crime. He’d lost his place in the house and been replaced by one of Keenan’s fraternity brothers the next week. Between Keenan’s efforts and mine, Brenton had never been able to land a respectable job in LA after that. Impotent rage could have motivated him to steal and distribute the sex tape. He was certainly on my radar. But somehow I didn’t think he was the alleged blackmailer either.
Mina had said the emails were untraceable. Tech like that cost serious money. Money that Harvey wouldn’t have. Unless the little bottom-feeder had latched onto someone more powerful with an agenda that matched his, I didn’t think he was the blackmailer.
And then there was Scott Flemming.
The glasses on the table wobbled and I belatedly realized that I’d seized it in my anger. Just the name made me see red. As disgusting as Brenton had been, I hated Scott more.
Scott and I had been in the same unit. When I found him assaulting girls in Fallujah, I’d gone to my superiors with the information. How the hell I ended up discharged for it, I’d never know. It had only been the intervention of Colonel Graham that saved me from possible jail time for breaking Flemming’s useless face.
The adage “It’s not what you know. It’s who you know.” held true. Flemming had better connections than me and it had cost me the only career I’d ever wanted.
My phone pinged. The sharp, cheerful sound grated against my nerves and I seized it, ready to crush the thing if the email was inane. Instead, the header sent ice sliding into my stomach. It was from Doctor Watts and the message was flagged as urgent by Leah.
With suddenly shaking fingers, I opened the email and read the contents, heart sinking with every word.
My father’s condition was getting worse. He’d suffered a Transient Ischemic Attack around one in the morning, while I’d been stretched out on one of the Boeing’s long, luxury seats, contemplating how best to approach my reluctant companion. Though the mini-stroke hadn’t caused any permanent damage, Doctor Watts warned I shouldn’t be complacent. It was often an indicator a major stroke was on the way. I should come home as soon as humanly possible.
The email didn’t outright say it, but I could read between the lines. If I stayed away, I could be missing my father’s final hours.
The phone dinged again and another email popped up just after Watt’s clinical but distressing message. The sender was also flagged as an important contact and I sighed when I spotted the name.
Alden Farraday. Trust my father to be a stubborn bastard to the bitter end, even as he lay dying. I didn’t have to check the email to know what it would say. I opened it anyway. He’d sent it from his work email, just to prove to me how serious he was about this. Skimming the message, I could practically hear my father’s wheezing snarl in my head.
Do not turn that plane around, do you hear me? This opportunity is too important to screw up. I will not have you crouching by my bedside like some damned nursemaid while there is business to be done. I don’t care what the quack doctor says. I’ll live. Do your damned job.
Alden Farraday
Executive Assistant to CEO of Farraday Industries
I smiled grimly, despite my increasingly foul mood. His new email signature probably made him spit every time he looked at it. He’d only grudgingly installed me as CEO, and his title of Executive Assistant was in name only. In reality, I was performing his duties as well as my own. The indignity of it all was probably shaving days off of his life as he stewed about it.
For a few minutes, I indulged the fantasy of turning the plane around, just to spite the old man. If Doctor Watts was right, I could be missing the last days of his life by going on this trip. He’d rail at me, probably disown me, but it would be worth it to spend the last moments of his life in his company, right?
Only Mina’s presence stayed my hand. If I took her back to LA, we’d be walking back into the blackmailer’s turf. It was safer for her in Morocco, where neither of us knew the terrain especially well. For the first time, I questioned my decision to leave the Farraday bodyguards behind. I’d done it so they couldn’t report back to my father, but now…
“Sir?” Joanne’s meek tone grounded me.
I managed to release my death grip on the table with difficulty. “What is it?”
“I came to clear the table but you don’t appear to be finished. Is there anything I can do for you before I go?”
A headache was blooming between my eyes. I didn’t think it was a coincidence that I’d begun getting them after Mina’s sudden reappearance in my life. I waved at the table broadly with one hand and pinched the bridge of my nose with the other, trying to stave off the worst of it.
“Go ahead and clear it. Miss Mason wasn’t hungry.”
“And you, sir?”
“I’m done. Clear it. And bring me a gin and tonic, please.”
Joanne’s dark eyes clouded with concern. I’d forgone breakfast before, and with the pressure I was under, no one would find that unusual. But until today, I’d never substituted food for alcohol.
I chuckled wearily. Somehow, I’d always known Mina would drive me to drink.
Joanne nodded curtly and backed out of the room, leaving me with the most pressing concern of all.
Mina may have loathed me, but somehow, I still loved her. The string of one-night stands and month-or-two girlfriends hadn’t ever been enough to erase her completely. And now that she was here with me, it was glaringly obvious that nothing ever would.
Loving Mina was dangerous. If I allowed myself to fall back into old patterns, I’d lose everything my father had built. Owen Mason would use his blackmail, and what would be left? A shattered company, my dying father, and a woman who still wouldn’t love me, no matter how much I wanted her.
Damn it all to hell. This had been a very, very bad idea. I should never have invited her along.
But what was the alternative? Leaving her with a PI? I’d done my homework on the man she’d been about to hire. Laurence Hyde had a fifty-percent success rate and three DUIs. The man couldn’t legally drive. How the hell was he supposed to solve her case?
If I’d left her alone with Hyde, there was a chance the death threats would have escalated to kidnap or murder. She was where she needed to be. Too bad it came at the cost of my peace of mind.
Joanne returned with my gin and tonic.
I lifted the glass in a solemn salute.
She paused in the doorway, watching me nurse the drink. “May I speak, sir?”
I shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”
“This melancholy you’re experiencing, it’s due to your lady friend?”
Her face was tight with stress and her hands shook around the empty serving tray she’d brought the glass on. If she’d dared to broach a personal topic with my father, she’d have been fired on the spot. I was something of an unknown to most of his employees, especially the ones I didn’t have frequent contact with. She knew her career could be in jeopardy and was still willing to risk it. It was touching, in a way.
“Something like that,” I muttered dryly, sipping the gin. “We can’t seem to communicate. Any tips? I don�
��t know what I can do to appease her.”
Joanne was silent for several moments, considering.
“I have two girls, sir. And I’ve always found that actions speak louder than words. If you can’t think of a way to speak to her, maybe find a way to show her how much you care.”
Sex immediately sprung to mind, but I discarded the thought. Fucking her would complicate everything, no matter how good it would feel in the short-term.
The answer came to me and I smiled. There was one thing that had always calmed Mina down, no matter the circumstances.
“Thank you, Joanne. That helps.”
She smiled timidly, loaded the dishes on the tray, and backed out the way she’d come, her courage draining faster than the gin in my glass.
I was grateful for the solitude when she’d gone. I needed an hour or two without the harsh scrutiny of either the crew or my erstwhile girlfriend. We couldn’t be more than what we were. But maybe, if I didn’t screw up too badly, we could at least be friendly.
Draining the glass, I smiled grimly to myself.
“Who am I fucking kidding?”
Chapter Eleven
I was dragged unwillingly from sleep by a knock on the door. Groaning, I seized one of the plush pillows and chucked it at the door. It rebounded with a dull thud.
“Go away,” I groaned, in case my unwelcome visitor hadn’t gotten a clue.
“Can I come in, please?” Logan’s voice was low and persuasive and the very last thing I wanted to hear.
“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” I shot back, readying another pillow to throw at the door.
It tumbled weakly out of my hand when I remembered my vow to do this con right. Even if I found his presence utterly infuriating, I couldn’t let it show. I was playing his fiancée and I needed that six million. I could no longer afford to be petty.
“You barely touched your breakfast and I thought you might be hungry. I brought food. Do you mind letting me in? I’ll leave once you’ve had a chance to eat.”
Acting classes, don’t fail me now.
With my new motto firmly stuck in my head, I called, “Come in.” I was gratified to hear that my voice sounded thick with sleep, rather than disgust or anger. It was progress, at least.
Logan pushed his way into the room, dominating the space. His eyes flicked over me, heating with desire. It took me a minute to realize what he was staring at and when I figured it out, my cheeks burned.
I’d always been a hot sleeper. It didn’t seem to matter how many layers I went to bed in, I almost always ended up shedding them sometime during the intervening hours. I’d managed to strip down to my vividly purple bra and thong.
Logan’s eyes started at my manicured toes and traced their way up my calves, stopping when they found the curve of my ass.
Just about the time I’d decided that throwing the pillow was in order, he stooped and picked up the outfit I’d discarded. He tossed the clothing at me.
“Get dressed, True Love Waits, we’ve landed.”
He was deliberately provoking me, and I knew it. So I schooled my expression, forcing a smile onto my face.
“Thank you for the heads-up.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, clearly not buying my act.
I shimmied into the dress, pulling the tight fabric up to cover my legs above the knees. There. At least now I wasn’t two seconds away from flashing him. Standing, I shoved my arms into the sleeves and arranged the bodice just so. With a neckline that barely dipped beneath my collarbone, it was probably the most conservative article I’d donned since leaving the Senator’s house six years ago.
I glanced over my shoulder at Logan. He stood stock still, determinedly staring at the light brown wall of the cabin. I had no illusions that it was to protect my modesty. He was trying to keep his hands off me, and that simply wouldn’t do.
“Zip me up, please?” I asked, dropping my voice into a more sultry octave.
Logan hissed a curse. “You’re pretty damned flexible, Blakely. You can do it yourself.”
“But I want you to do it. You’re supposed to be my fiancée, aren’t you?”
He muttered another curse and I hid my grin by sweeping the long fall of blonde hair forward over one shoulder.
Logan’s fingers brushed my waist, and even through the material, warmth radiated off him. He was a welcome heat at my back as he leaned over, seizing the zipper of the sheath dress. It rasped audibly as he drew it up into place.
His breath fanned across my shoulder and his grip on my waist tightened, drawing me back into his chest.
A soft moan escaped me when his teeth scraped the hollow of my throat. Want surged through me, clenching muscles I hadn’t used in a long, long time. My knees went weak as he pressed himself impossibly closer. All he’d have to do was bend me over the bed, press me into the heavy fawn comforter and hike the dress up around my waist.
“Mina,” he murmured. Funny how he only used my name when we were fighting or sexed up.
“Hmm?”
“We need to go.”
The reminder that I had a job to do hit harder than a slap and I jerked out of his arms. The cabin felt a million degrees colder without his body pressed hard and solid against mine.
“Right.” I choked on the word. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
Logan backed out of the room quickly, leaving me with my bags and spinning thoughts.
Damn it. We’d been close to something. It has his plane. He could disembark when he damn well felt like it.
I shoved my belongings into their respective bags. Anger still prickled through me, in tandem with my pulse. If he’d just stop lying about what he’d done, I could at least respect him. It would certainly make my job of seducing him easier if I wasn’t constantly reminded of why I was being forced to do this in the first place.
I blew out a breath and repeated the mantra to myself. What would Phoebe Mason do?
Phoebe would emerge arm in arm with the irritating, devastatingly handsome man and charm the socks off his business partners. WWPMD was the only thing keeping me from tackling Logan Farraday to the ground.
I had no idea if I’d beat him or fuck him when I got him there.
* * *
Our host, Cassius Tennesley, was a man of below average height. He hit me at the shoulder, even in his platform shoes. He made up for the lack of inches in charisma, however, happily showing us to a superyacht sequestered in Casablanca’s cruise dock. It was not far from the hotel where Logan’s business meeting would be taking place.
Cassius bobbed ahead of us, his toupee flopping with every step. He didn’t appear to notice, because his megawatt smile didn’t dim even a fraction as he led us to our temporary home.
“The crew of the Benetti will see you to your rooms. They’ve been outfitted for your comfort but if there’s anything you need do not hesitate to ring for it.” He glanced back over his shoulder, dark eyes flicking from me to Logan in quiet bemusement. “You’re certain you want separate rooms? Other accommodations could be made.”
When we’d taken off from LAX, the separate rooms idea had seemed foolproof. It was becoming rapidly apparent I wasn’t getting into Logan’s good graces without putting out. But I had a cover story and I had to stick to it, no matter how inconvenient.
I squeezed Logan’s elbow with a light laugh. “The wedding is coming up soon. We don’t want to tempt fate, do we dear?”
Logan didn’t dignify the girlish simper with anything more than a grunt.
Cassius nodded to himself and walked us up the gangplank and onto the ship. Almost as soon as we’d stepped aboard, we were surrounded by a crowd of milling businessmen.
Logan adopted the crouched tension of a cornered cat, and I was pretty sure he’d have liked to throat punch every single man who approached.
Peeling my fingers off his arm, I put my body between him and the oncoming vultures. Flashing the crowd a winning smile, I cut off their questions with a simple, “Lordy, it’
s hot out here. What’s a girl gotta do to get a glass of water?”
At least three of the men tripped over themselves to exit the queue and find me a glass of water. The rest were successfully diverted by my dress. I gave Logan a deliberate shove, hoping he’d take the hint.
He did, and sidled away from me, making a beeline for the bar.
My spirits sank down to my strappy heels. I’d smelled alcohol on his breath earlier when he’d come to fetch me. Unless something had changed drastically in the six years since we’d last met, he wasn’t a day drinker.
He’d despised the habit his father had sunk into after his mother’s death and swore never to do the same. So this must have been because of me.
Great. I was driving the only man I’d ever loved into a spiral of self-hatred and binge drinking. Was I really that bad?
Suddenly, my bag felt like it weighed about a million pounds. My cheerful mask felt incredibly brittle—if one more thing went wrong, I was going to lose it.
“Are you alright?” the nearest man asked, settling a gentle hand on my elbow. He looked vaguely familiar, though I had no idea where I’d seen him before. I examined him more closely, trying to figure out where I might have known him from.
The light green Dormeuil suit made his gray eyes stand out strikingly against his dark skin. His dark hair was springy, and if not for the crisp British bite to his words, I would have said he was a Moroccan native.
“I’m not sure the sea agrees with me,” I said quietly. “Is there any chance one of you lovely gentleman could show me to my room? I seem to have lost track of my fiancé.”
Again, there was much arguing between the men. Eventually, the man in the green Dormeuil suit was selected to escort me below deck. He peered at my face curiously as we descended to the lowest floor.
The hall was long and, according to the placard fixed to the wall, my room would be at the very end of it, directly across from Logan’s.
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