Covet Me

by Geneva Lee

  “Oh,” I said in a small voice. My legal problems were about to get a lot more expensive if John was unable to handle the issue.

  “I am able to handle litigation,” he clarified. “I generally don’t though, so you might want to seek a second opinion because you might not like mine.”

  “Fair enough.” I braced myself for his response, breath caught in my throat.

  “As an investor, he has little claim on your actual business. He may choose to divest and force repayment, but from what you told me in your email, his interest is entirely financial. He shouldn’t interfere. If you feel that you want him out, I’d repay the investment and be certain he’s not written into any legal documents as a shareholder moving forward.”

  It wasn’t the worst news he could have given, but it wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear. I suppose I’d hoped John could offer some sort of miraculous solution that hadn’t occurred to me. But Smith was part of my life until I could buy him out.

  “You’re disappointed,” John noted.

  I dismissed his concern with a wave of my hand. “It’s a feeling I’m used to.”

  Our eyes met, and for the first time in many years, I saw the same painful memories I’d carried reflected in someone else’s eyes. We’d never spoken of our father’s death. It was the ghost that no one spoke of in my family.

  “A word of advice?” John offered. “Not as your lawyer, but as a…brother. Move on. Don’t feel guilty for taking what has been given to you and don’t apologize.”

  “No apologies,” I repeated.

  John’s gaze faded into the distance as he reiterated, “None.”

  Andrew’s office was everything mine was not. Perched on one of the highest floors of his building, it loomed over the city’s financial district. To be honest, the whole thing reeked of a sort of masculine inferiority syndrome. Why else erect something that looked like a towering dick in the middle of London than if you couldn’t get yours up?

  “I’ve reviewed the documents and I see no issue with proceeding,” he informed me as he reappeared. One of my oldest friends from law school, the years—and corporate law—hadn’t been kind to him. It showed in the lines creasing his forehead.

  Perhaps I would be similarly worn down if I’d pursued a more traditional practice. Although it hardly seemed fair that life had been so hard on him when I was the one entangled with criminals.

  “Then everything is in order?” I asked, ready to be done with this business.

  “Legally,” Andrew agreed. He gestured for me to take a seat before crossing the room to pour two Scotches. “Personally, I would be a bit more concerned.”

  I took the drink he offered me without responding. I knew exactly what the personal stakes were, and I’d already made sacrifices to ensure whatever chaos ensued from finalizing the sale of my holdings in Velvet would be restricted to me. But Andrew was a decent man. He’d advised me on difficult cases before, which is why I’d entrusted him to handle this one swiftly and privately.

  “Hammond isn’t likely to roll over on this, Smith.” He took a long sip and shook his head. The implication was clear. He couldn’t understand what I was thinking. Of course, he’d also never been as mixed up with a client as I was with my boss.

  I swirled the amber liquid in the bottom of the glass as I considered how to respond. I trusted Andrew as far as I trusted any professional acquaintance. “I don’t expect him to. But there is a personal reason that I want out of the club. A couple, actually.”

  It didn’t take a genius to guess that I wanted free from the sordid enterprises Hammond had built throughout London. It probably also didn’t take much to piece together that my father had been a victim of Hammond’s organized crime empire and that the odds were I would suffer a similar fate. Most of my associates had figured that out long before I did. What might be harder to comprehend was why I was purposefully drawing attention to myself now.

  “I’m still retained by Hammond,” I finished.

  “But are you in his good graces?” Andrew asked. He placed his empty glass on the side table and leaned forward. “You have to know this is suicide.”

  I did know that. The clock had been ticking since last spring when I’d found myself in the precarious position of choosing sides. “I wish I could explain myself. Doing this with the club will hardly matter, but it’s important for me to sever ties with Velvet.”

  “She must be something.” He rubbed his chin with a sigh.

  So he had guessed. While most might assume I wanted out of the twisted birthright my father had left me, Andrew saw through me. “Tell me. Is it obvious because you know me or because I’ve lost my touch?”

  “Lucky guess,” he assured me. “You are as unreadable as ever, my friend.”

  I wanted to breath a sigh of relief, but instead I tipped my head, smiling tightly.

  “This will bring attention to her as well.” His forehead creased as his tone grew serious.

  “I’ve taken measures.” He didn’t need to know more than that. While he might be trustworthy, I’d learned a few things from my unlikely partnership with Georgia. People could be bought. People could be sold out. And people, especially men, had a tendency to spill secrets when they got a chance to put their dicks in a warm, welcoming pussy.

  “You’re smart, even if this a particularly stupid move. I certainly hope there won’t be fall-out.”

  There would be. The only choice I had was to be outside of the blast radius—a feat which I already knew was impossible. But keeping Belle far from the danger was something I could control. No matter the cost.

  “You’ve considered that if he makes a move, it might not be a physical attack. Your entire career is in his hands. There’s more ways to kill a man than to put a bullet through his head.”

  “I’m prepared for that as well.” There were no more reassurances I could offer him. Even if I had been willing to lay out my entire plan on the spot, it would risk too many others in the process. “I wish I could be upfront with you. Your concern is touching.”

  “You’re a good man. I simply want the best for you.” He held out his hand, and I shook it firmly.

  That wasn’t a sentiment I was accustomed to hearing. If Andrew knew me better—if he knew the things I’d done—the thought would never have occurred to him. But there was a small comfort to be taken from his words. I could never hope to absolve myself of the sins of my past but trying had to count for something.

  Andrew patted my shoulder as I left his office. I’d thought that some of my burden would be lifted when I relinquished my claim to Velvet, but instead it felt heavier than ever before. The move had come at a price, and while I’d been willing to pay it, I still felt its sting.

  Stepping inside the lift, I toyed with the mobile in my pocket. There was only one person I wanted to call to share this news with, and she was absolutely off-limits. That was the missing piece. The reason that finally snipping a thread that linked me to Hammond hadn’t been the victory I’d expected. No doubt Belle would have shot off a smart-ass remark that redirected my attention from the inevitable consequences of my actions to thoughts of spending the evening taming her attitude. My cock stiffened a little at the fantasy. No amount of rationale could convince him that I’d made the right move.

  The lift came to a stop on the next floor, and this time when the doors opened, I blinked, wondering if my imagination had finally gotten the better of me. It was going to be a long ride down the remaining flights if my daydreams were becoming so vivid.

  But judging from the way she froze on the spot, confusion turning into pain, she wasn’t an illusion. Belle paused, as if considering her next move, before she walked in and took up the farthest possible spot in the compartment. Her gaze remained trained on the buttons as we began to descend once more.

  Of all the lifts in London, she walks into mine.

  Her perfume lingered in the air, and it took a considerable amount of effort to restrain myself. My dick was having none of
it, having grown rock hard at the sight of her. The burden I’d felt entering the lift seemed to lift and deposit itself directly onto my chest. How did you tell a woman that you hurt her to protect her?

  I wanted to shove her against the wall, hitch up her skirt, and claim what was mine. Because Belle Stuart was mine. I’d let her walk away, but I hadn’t let her go. She wouldn’t stop me. That much I was sure of her. She might be managing to pretend I didn’t exist, but I could see it in her body language. In the way she rubbed her calf nervously against her shin. In the slight tap of her fingers on the metal rail that ran along the perimeter of the space. In the sharp intake of breath that came every few seconds.

  She was as aware of my presence as I was of hers. Her body responding to the memories I’d given it. If I lifted her skirt and shoved my hand between her legs, she’d be as wet as I was hard.

  Just one taste. One stolen kiss. One bite to her pale shoulder. One hand wrapped around her slender throat. One more moment.

  But giving in would undo everything I’d worked for, and it would make the pain I’d caused her worthless. She had more value than that. I owed her more respect than to toy with her.

  When we reached the lobby, I exited without a word. It was easier that way.

  For her at least.

  Lola descended on me as soon as I made it back to the office, her obvious excitement distracting me from my run-in with Smith. I was barely through the door before she had me cornered. She twisted her hands, bouncing on her heels. The girl was practically vibrating. Sidling past her, I dropped my bag on the floor and sank into my chair.

  “Well?” I prompted, concerned that she might explode if I didn’t give her some attention. The last thing I needed was to have to repaint. Closing my eyes, I tried to focus on her and not my heartbreaking encounter in the lift.

  “I didn’t want to say anything before because I figured it was a long shot. But then I got a call, and oh my god, Belle! This is it!” she gushed.

  I opened one eye and stared at her, wondering if I’d missed something vital in what she’d just told me. “Forgive me, but what is it?”

  “Trend!” she exclaimed, glaring at me like I should know this.

  Despite the nonsensical stream of information spewing from her, this got my attention. I sat up, both eyes open, and waited.

  “Abigail Summers’s assistant just phoned me. They love the idea behind Bless and want to do an exclusive editorial.”

  “Trend?” I repeated. Now I understood why Lola was barely coherent. Trend was the most widely recognized fashion magazine in the world and had been for nearly fifty years. As a start-up, we wouldn’t have been able to afford an ad on their website. A magazine editorial was beyond my wildest fantasies. “Oh my god!”

  Tears spilled down my cheeks even as I began to laugh. It was full-blown hysteria. Here we were sitting in an empty office space. No website. No inventory. No customers. And somehow we’d managed to land an opportunity half of the fashion world would kill for.

  “How did this happen?” I finally managed.

  “A professor I’m working with this year used to be editorial staff,” Lola explained. “She gave me the contact info and told me Abigail was looking to spotlight up-and-coming female entrepreneurs. It’s part of a whole girl power theme they’re focused on this year.”

  “I can’t believe this.” And I couldn’t. It was as if the universe had taken pity on me and dropped a gift in my lap.

  “The only catch is that you need to be in New York by Tuesday,” Lola said.

  My smile evaporated. “Wait, what?”

  “The story is as much about you as it is about Bless.” Lola shrugged her shoulders as if this made perfect sense.

  Except that it didn’t. In the fashion world, I was a nobody. My greatest contribution to that world so far was a couple of maxed-out credit cards spent during irresponsible shopping sprees. “What about you? You should take the interview.”

  Lola’s background at university, not to mention her legacy as the daughter of two self-made millionaires, made her the perfect candidate for a major magazine piece.

  “I have school,” she reminded me. “Plus, Bless is your company.”

  “It’s our company,” I corrected her.

  “You’re generous,” she said. “It will be someday when I’ve fulfilled my end of the deal. That much I can promise you. But this is still your baby. You had the vision. Besides you have a great story. Abigail loved it. Jilted by her fiancé, a bride-to-be ditches the no-good jerk and starts the next big thing in modern fashion merchandizing.”

  “When you put it like that, it does sound exciting. Except look around, Bless is pretty much still an idea.” Nothing confirmed the validity of this more than the barren space surrounding us.

  “In today’s market, ideas are currency—and currency is still money,” Lola informed me.

  “You’re taking very different classes than I did in school,” I said with a smirk.

  “Look, you are going to New York, and you’re going to prove what a badass you truly are. No second-guessing yourself now. You’re going to blow Abigail Summers away.” Lola tilted her head, daring me to challenge her.

  “It’s not like I’ll actually meet with Abigail,” I said. I needed to align my enthusiasm with Lola’s. This was an amazing chance. But keeping a level head also seemed a necessity.

  “No, you will,” she corrected me, flying into another frenzied announcement. “The whole thing is like a conversation between the two of you. The magazine spotlights the business while the interview is more of a mentoring session.”

  I lost the ability to speak. There was no way I was prepared for this. I’d spent the last week gathering the basic info. I’d rented an office. I had an elevator pitch. None of that was enough to impress someone with Abigail’s reputation.

  Lola’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you look like I just gave you a death sentence?”

  “I’m not certain you didn’t.”

  “Trend is taking care of most of the travel arrangements. I’ll handle the rest.” She snapped into decision-making mode. “I’ll also draw up a bunch of talking points you can use to discuss the brand and our plans. But don’t forget, she wants to mentor. Massage her ego a little and get her feedback.”

  She had a point. If all else failed, flattery would get me through.

  “While you’re gone, I’ll finalize the website plans with the web designer and start reaching out to the designers,” she continued. “Now this is important. Do you have stuff to wear? It has to be this season!”

  I could tell by the way she looked me over as she said this that my choice of outfit today had worried her. I wore a classic ivory blouse and navy pencil skirt. There was nothing sexy or exciting about it, but I had owned it for three years and it still worked. It wasn’t the height of current fashion, however.

  “I have clothes.” I swallowed hard on my own words. I had clothes given to me by Smith. My wardrobe not only had some current pieces, it had all of them. Without a doubt, they would impress Abigail Summers. I just had to bring myself to wear them. I’d shoved them in the back of my closet and studiously avoided them since that night at Velvet. Now I would be forced to take a huge leap forward in my career with the burden of my obligation to Smith weighing me down. John’s words from earlier in the afternoon echoed in my mind.

  No guilt. I was going to have that tattooed on my forearm.

  “You gain a day heading to the U.S., but you’re going to be exhausted, so you leave on Monday.”

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I said under my breath, mentally running through the list of things I needed to have done before I took off. Manicure, at the very least. Maybe a wax. My hair had gotten longer due to being distracted by Smith and then the business. There was no way to get into the hairdresser on time.

  “Relax,” Lola instructed me. “You have the whole weekend to get everything done. And try to take a minute and be happy. Don’t get too caught up in your to-do list tha
t you miss out on the amazing.”

  I lunged for her, wrapping her in a tight hug. “Thank you!”

  “Thank you for trusting me to be part of this.” She squeezed back. “I’ve got things here. Oh, and I’m going to call the landlord and have him change the lock. I watched you lock the door earlier and it popped right open when I got back from our lunch. I think it’s broken.”

  “Was anything missing?” I asked with a frown.

  “No. I checked,” she reassured me. “Your phone was sitting right out on the desk. Thank god this is a quiet neighborhood.”

  “Speaking of, I need to get to my neighborhood and to my closet.”

  Lola pecked me on the cheek, and I rushed toward the door.

  “Hey,” she called after me, “you deserve this.”

  Hell yes, I did. Nobody was going to hold me back anymore. Not even myself.

  The sensual, upbeat rhythm of Samba music filled my flat by the time I arrived there with freshly manicured hands. I couldn’t resist swaying my hips as I made my way into the small living room I shared with my aunt. Jane grinned wildly as I joined her, holding out her hands. I took them nervously, allowing her to lead me into a few steps until I tripped onto the rug. Jane snorted as I stumbled and fell onto the sofa. She continued moving with the beat, her silk house robe swirling wildly around her. When the song ended, she plopped down beside me.

  “I’m also afraid to tell you that it’s Friday evening.” Jane pursed her lips knowingly. “I wouldn’t want you to go back to the office.”

  Jane hadn’t pressed me when I came home a week ago crying. She hadn’t needed an explanation at all. And she’d managed to keep her mouth shut about the insane number of hours I’d been spending on Bless. Apparently that grace period was over, but I didn’t care. I’d spent the last two hours allowing myself to celebrate the biggest achievement in my very short career’s history.