“This is quite a collection. All people you like to read?”
“Of course.” Red set the two laden plates he was holding on a bar table against the wall. “You’re surprised?”
Piper nodded.
He grinned back. “I’m a publisher, Piper. What did you expect?” He ducked out for a minute, then returned with two beers and a few napkins.
“No, you’re a businessman who recently added a publishing house to his portfolio. That’s a little different.” Piper accepted the beer he offered her, clinked her bottle against his, and took a long sip.
“And why would I do that, if I didn’t love reading?”
“Because it was a savvy financial decision?”
“I hate to break it you, but—your career aside—there isn’t a ton of money to be made in traditional publishing anymore.” Suddenly, Red’s smile seemed a little forced. He looked away and busied himself with gathering the billiard balls and racking them.
“Don’t tell me you have buyer’s remorse already?” Piper asked. She tried to keep the quaver from her voice, she really did—but his expression was scaring her.
Red must have heard, though. He dropped what he was doing and came toward her immediately, taking Piper’s face in his large, gentle hands and staring right into her eyes.
“If I’d never bought Trident, I would never have met you,” he said softly. “I’ll never regret that. Not for one minute.”
LATER, THEY SAT propped in his bed, watching TV in the dark. Neither was quite ready for sleep. With his right hand, Red wielded the television remote, idly flipping through channels. His left hand rested possessively on Piper’s thigh but didn’t wander. He seemed content, for the moment, just to be together.
She leaned against Red’s shoulder, thinking about how even a few days away already seemed like a long time. Piper thought it was strange that she hadn’t considered herself particularly deprived or lonely before she met Red. Now, Piper missed little moments like this when she was home.
She wondered, painfully, if Red did, too. Even though she knew she ought to, she couldn’t quite keep that thought to herself.
“Red?”
“Hm?” he murmured.
“Do you ever think about me when we’re apart?”
He snorted and tossed the remote aside. “Uh, yeah,” he laughed. “I think that’s fair to say.”
“Was that a funny thing to ask?”
An old movie flickered on the television, the dashing couple twirling and dancing their way around an opulent living room, smiling placidly as they leaped over ottomans and skirted end tables.
“Oh, I don’t know. Could be. I wake up horny and wishing for you, when I fall asleep I dream about doing filthy things with you, and I probably spend fifty percent of my lunch hours jacking off in my office bathroom, because I can’t stop picturing you there with me.”
“Ah,” Piper smiled. Red was taking her dumb question in stride, instead of getting weirded-out by her sudden bout of clingy insecurity. “I get it. This is purely a physical deprivation problem for you.”
“Hardly,” he scoffed. “I also spend the intervening hours obsessing about where you are, what you’re doing, who you’re seeing, what you’re wearing, what you’re eating, what you’re thinking, and what you’re feeling.”
“I…see.” He appeared to be completely serious.
“Oh, I doubt that you do. I’ve got it bad for you, Piper Mae.” And then Red rolled to the side, flattened her beneath him, and began licking her neck.
“Me, too. For you.” She giggled when he tickled the sensitive underside of her chin with his tongue. It was probably better not to think about how or when she’d become a chronic giggler.
“For this?” Red asked, sliding his hand up to cover her breast, grazing her nipple lightly through her t-shirt with his palm.
Piper dug the remote out from under her hip and tossed it toward the nightstand. Red’s nimble fingers found their way up the inside of her thigh, and then between her legs.
“Or maybe you’ve got it bad for this,” he growled in her ear. His lips were hot and soft against her skin and made her tremble with each teasing breath that escaped them.
“All of that,” Piper admitted, turning his head so she could kiss him full on the mouth. Against his lips, she confessed, “But really all of you.”
TWENTY-TWO
RED HUNG UP the phone and propped his elbows on his desk. He tried to massage away the tension taking root at the base of his skull.
Fuck ‘taking root.’ The stress was branching out like one of the great goddamn elms in Central Park, twisting and spreading and casting its damning shadow across his day. Even so, Red rolled his shoulders and steeled himself for one more phone call.
He’d been at it for hours, but lining up new investors to paper over the royalty issue they’d uncovered at Trident was turning out to be unexpectedly difficult.
It wasn’t like he kept a whole fleet full of destroyers in the water, ready and willing to vanquish any cash-flow problems that came his way—not book-related problems, anyway.
No, the investors Red usually worked with saved their bachelorette-at-a-strip-club routines for the boats and the biotech projects. He couldn’t fathom why the booze and the books should be any different, but they were.
Any smile that might have threatened at the memory of Piper’s apt assonance regarding PKM’s main business lines—Christ, now Red was beginning to sound like her—was squelched by the thought that came on its heels.
His usual roster of donors was proving to be a dead end. They’d spent the last few hours telling him in great detail about his foolishness, recklessness, and vanity.
The thing was, Red’s wrists were cuffed on this one, and not in a good way. The feelers he’d put out across the industry months ago were now bearing fruit at the most inconvenient time. No way was Red going to let the opportunity pass him—or Trident—by, though.
When the biggest, most well-known chain of bookstores in the country finally came calling, you answered the hell out of that phone. But, if Red was going to successfully woo Millhouse & Rock into bed with PKM, then…well, suffice it say, the crap currently brewing at Trident needed to stay under wraps.
Which meant Red had been knocking on doors all morning, hamstrung. He couldn’t explain why he needed more money, or the gossip would start making the rounds and Trident’s woes would become common knowledge.
And he couldn’t sweeten the pot by dangling the bookstore deal in front of people, in case the assholes at M&R decided to pull the plug at the last minute. They were like tentative, crotchety old ladies, and they’d developed a real fondness for playing him like a marionette.
Even more unpleasant than any of that was something Red ought to have anticipated beforehand—books and reading simply weren’t cool enough for the popular kids.
Patrons of the symphony or the ballet could expect to have their names plastered on signs and printed in programs where many people see it. They could swan around on opening night, receiving the accolades of their friends, secure in the social glory that came with supporting the performing arts.
Books, though, were essentially a solitary endeavor. You read them alone and expounding on them too much at parties tended to make you sound like a pretentious bore. And, there were no goddamn opening nights at which to see and be seen, and to get your photo in the paper the next day.
Red groaned and swiveled his chair around to stare out the window at the buildings marching down Pearl Street. He was obviously going about this all wrong. He needed a new plan of attack.
He could try to make Trident more appealing to the usual artsy crowd. Throw galas for book launches and set up exclusive per-plate dinners to meet authors and hear readings. Except Red hated to embark on things he wasn’t confident he could succeed at, and it would take time to change perceptions—time he did not have.
And forget about what the business and investing worlds were going to say if they discovered
the straits that Trident was in. If Piper found out before Red was ready—if she found out from anyone but him—then Red’s life was going to suck balls even worse than it had before.
So, if slapping some lipstick on this pig and hoping to market it to the usual buyers wasn’t going to work…then maybe Red needed to bring in a fresh set of eyes.
Wayne buzzed in.
“What’s up?”
“Your mother is on line three,” his assistant said.
Red groaned. It was so not the time. She’d undoubtedly have some luncheon she wanted him to fund, or a tea, or a lecture, or God only knew what.
Wayne asked, “Want me to tell her you’re busy?”
Fresh eyes. Red had to find new, different investors to dangle Trident in front of. And as loathe as he was to admit it, Gina MacLellan might just be the person he needed most right now.
He’d never met a more socially-connected person in his life. His mother genuinely knew every single person who had cash to burn in this entire city. If there were any doddering old widows or reclusive matrons left who might get off on being patrons to authors, then Red’s mom could find them.
He focused, allowing himself a flare of optimism.
“No,” he told Wayne. “Put her through. I’ll talk to her.”
Line three began ringing. Red took a deep breath and answered.
“Ah, Red darling. How kind of you to take my call.” As intended, the sarcasm was hard to miss.
“Mom, it’s been a long day. Could you not, please?”
“All right, fine. Then maybe you can shed some light on something.”
“What’s that?”
“You father and I stopped at that club of yours last night after the opera, hoping for a nightcap. And while we were there, your security man said the strangest thing.”
“You mean Terry?”
“Perhaps. We don’t go there often since you keep the music so loud. I can never really keep the men straight.”
Red rolled his eyes. “Well, what did the mystery man say?”
“He told us you’d been there recently with a woman.”
“Could be.” Red felt a frisson of concern. He’d taken exactly one woman to his club recently, and Piper was not someone he wanted in his mother’s crosshairs, particularly after that impromptu run-in they’d had.
“Must you always be so terse?” she snipped. “Anyway, when he described her to us, it sounded an awful lot like that person I met at your house a few weeks ago. The timing is right, too.”
No use denying it now, he supposed. “What’s your point?”
“Padraig, you’re not pursuing a relationship with that woman, are you? She’s incredibly inappropriate.”
“How would you know? Besides, I don’t think my personal life is any of your business.” Red liked Piper when she was inappropriate. The more inappropriate the better, as a matter of fact.
“Which is it, darling? Personal or business?”
Painfully, it was both. But his mother was the very last person with whom he wanted to delve into the complexities of his new relationship. The longer Red could keep the two women apart, the better his life would be.
“Forget about that,” he said. Time for some deflection. “I have a project for you.”
There was a loaded pause, while his mother decided whether she would let him divert her or not. Finally, she took the bait, as he’d known she would. The woman absolutely thrived on being useful to him, even if her results were hit-or-miss.
“Oh really? Do tell,” she purred.
AND GINA MACLELLAN had come through for him in a big way. Red had expected her to toss off a potential name or two. From there, he’d have followed the cobweb of connections, in an effort to find others.
Instead, his mother had produced five individuals with deep pockets and a decided interest in the less-flashy arts. Fuck if Red knew where she’d unearthed them.
She’d even engineered five low-key introductions, and though Red had drunk more tea and perched on more uncomfortable divans in the last two days than any grown man should have to do—it had mostly accomplished the job.
Now, if he was very careful and very fucking lucky, they might have a chance.
Trident had a chance.
And that meant, if the gods of love and war were kind, Red might actually get to keep Piper Mae Fulham.
HE HADN’T BEEN able to hold out long without her. Within a day of his unsatisfying conversation with Luca, Red found his balls and could act reasonably normally with Piper on the phone. And the day after his talk with his mom, he’d practically been begging Piper to visit him again.
Thank fuck for his own deep pockets. Red had no idea how most people conducted long distance relationships successfully, given how many planes and trains were involved. And while the phone sex thing certainly had its appeal, it was utter shit as a replacement for the real thing.
Red was hooked on Piper, through and through, and that meant he wanted eyes and hands on her as much as humanly possible.
However, when he’d had the impulsive idea to drag Piper back up to New York so soon, he’d hadn’t realized quite how efficiently his mother would be working her connections. On that score, Friday had dawned with both good news and bad.
In the pro column was the fact that he’d convinced Piper to stay on through the weekend, as well as the news that his mom had uncovered yet another promising name for him.
In the cons? That would be the part where his mother, completely oblivious to Piper’s presence in town, had finagled Red an invite to a private dinner she was attending that evening—a dinner his potential investor was also attending.
A dinner that was occurring at the exact time Red was supposed to be going out with Piper. Hell, she hadn’t even been ensconced in his loft for a full day before Red had to cancel their date, and he couldn’t even tell her why it was so goddamn important that he do it.
He also couldn’t bring Piper along, not when his own attendance was so spur-of-the-moment. Trying to arrange for a plus-one would’ve been like broadcasting his connection to Piper with a virtual bullhorn. In no time, inquiring minds would’ve then made the connection to Antoinette Corelli and Trident, and that was an outcome Red could not risk yet.
Only something as critical as scrounging up more cash for Trident could have dragged him away from his precious few days with Piper. Red had hated to leave, and found himself thinking about Piper, sweet and warm in his home—and in his bed—throughout the evening.
Could he have brought Piper with him that night, instead of having her wait for him at home? Despite his excuses, he probably could have. Red had spent the entire evening picturing her there, anyway, trying to envision how or if Piper might fit in with his mother’s friends.
He’d been paired with the host’s daughter at dinner, of course, a quiet divorcee with at least ten years on him—and felt a little sullen about the fact that she wasn’t Piper. The evening might have been a complete loss if his mother hadn’t managed to subtly convey that the daughter was, in fact, his mark. She’d saved him from making a total fool of himself.
When he finally left the party and went home, he didn’t head straight for her, as he’d wanted to all night. Instead, Red stood in his suit in the dark living room, staring gloomily out at the city lights and brooding about his real motives.
God. Was it really so vital to keep Piper in the dark about what was happening at Trident?
All night, Red had been wishing she was on his arm, giving him her opinion on the potential investor and weighing in on how he should proceed. So, when the time came that he could have made an early escape, Red had surprised himself by lingering—procrastinating coming home until he knew Piper would have fallen asleep. Why?
She would definitely have noticed his moodiness, there was that. And Red didn’t want to talk about the thundercloud hovering over him—it was difficult enough to withhold the details of what he’d been doing all week, but it would be so much worse if Piper decide
d to question him directly.
Red was irritated with himself, though, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. He kept thinking about how his mother had proclaimed Piper ‘inappropriate’ after one five-minute meeting.
Was his decision to leave her behind tonight easier because Red was subconsciously ashamed of her? He chafed at his mother’s insults, but she was correct that Piper didn’t inhabit the same world he did. The society mavens flouncing around tonight’s dinner would have picked up on that instantly.
He didn’t want to consider the caustic jibes that might’ve been slipped his way—or hers. Piper wouldn’t have complained, of course, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t have been hurt by it. She wasn’t used to the gossip like Red was.
As if she’d been summoned by his heavy thoughts, Piper appeared behind him, more angel than human in her pale, silky robe. Piper didn’t say a word—just slipped her arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder. She searched out the window, looking for what had claimed his attention.
No, Red decided. It hadn’t been shame. He’d wanted to protect her from them a little longer—the sharks that looked like swans—but it was such a foreign feeling to him, it was no wonder he hadn’t recognized it.
When had he last cared like this? Before Piper, he’d been entirely comfortable letting people sink or swim, to receive what they had coming to them. Before Piper, he hadn’t worried over whether he was even capable of shielding someone from the pettiness of others.
But Piper was sweet. Unsullied, despite the raunchy tilt of her brain. She didn’t deserve what the people at a lot of those gatherings could dish out if they had a mind to.
What was more—Red wanted to keep Piper to himself just a little longer. His own private haven, untainted by the glare of attention from his acquaintances, from the media, from his mother. Piper was something good, just for him.
Beside him, her breathing was slow and even, like it sounded when she was asleep. The way she stood there—asking nothing, offering her companionship without comment—twisted something dead and gray inside Red and made it pulse with life.
The Titan Was Tall (Triple Threat Book 1) Page 24