Bound Beneath His Pain: A Dirty Little Secrets Novel

by Stacey Kennedy

  Isabella continues, “We don’t have the resources or staff to ensure we bring Richardson up to speed to be successful on its own. We never planned for that.”

  I glance at Anderson and he shrugs, telling me he feels the same as the others. I respect my team standing firm in their opinions. It’s why I work alongside them, and I have changed the game on them now.

  Where does this leave me?

  Right now all I know is Richardson is too small, too run-down, and is lacking good real estate agents, since we took them all to grow Holt. “Let’s bring in Darius Bennett on this and see if his team can give some insight.” Darius’s billion-dollar company, Bennett, Inc., provides financial and budgeting services to large corporations, as well as advice on organization and management issues, and can improve any company. I have gone to Darius a few times in the past when a company I bought needed a face-lift. His people could find flaws that others missed. “I’d like to see the entire picture of what we’re looking at here.” I turn to Isabella. “Get our team working on finding any properties that Richardson can possibly move into.”

  Anderson adds, “And make sure the location is somehow tied to real estate, too. If we end up doing this, we need to make sure we’re giving Richardson the best shot out of the gate.”

  Isabella begrudgingly nods. “I suppose that’s a good place to start.”

  Travis grimaces. “I’ll take another look at their financials and see if I can be of any help there, too.”

  “Excellent,” I say, glad the team is on board. “Let’s meet again after I talk with Darius and see where everything sits before we make any final decisions.”

  I get some disgruntled agreements as the room clears, and I reach for the conference room’s phone and press the intercom button. The loud beep cuts through the air as I spin in my chair, staring out at the skyline again.

  “Yes?” Neil’s cheery voice fills the room.

  “Contact Darius Bennett and set up a meeting as soon as possible.”

  When the intercom turns off, a loud clearing of a throat has me glancing over my shoulder.

  Anderson’s scowling at me. “You better know what you’re doing.”

  He wouldn’t be Anderson if he didn’t call me out on this. He’s not my COO by chance. Anderson has worked with me at Holt from day one, because he didn’t feed me bullshit back then and he won’t now.

  I nod, it being the only answer I’m prepared to offer.

  Truth be told, I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. For the first time, I’m charging forward without a plan.

  “The look on your face right now isn’t convincing,” Anderson comments, shutting the door, with him inside. “If you ask me, it seems that all you know is what you want, and she is a floor beneath us.”

  “Keep Allie out of this conversation,” I give him a gently warning.

  “She’s in it,” he fires back at me, crossing his arms over his chest. “Tell me you’re thinking straight about this. Your personal decision affects Holt. Richardson is not pocket change. We put in millions of dollars to buy the company, for the sole purpose of dismantling it. And you better be damn sure this woman is worth the risk.”

  I keep my mouth shut, not feeling the need to defend myself.

  Anderson curses, shaking his head. “You made a bad decision. Your team is watching you make that bad decision. Trust is made and kept by not making bad decisions.” He presses both hands against the back of the chair in front of him, knuckles white. “So, tell me that you’re not making a bad decision.”

  Before I can reply, Neil’s voice breaks through the thick tension in the air. “I’m afraid that Mr. Bennett is away on business right now, but he can meet you at Holt on Saturday morning after he returns from traveling. Shall I confirm?”

  “Please do,” I reply.

  Anderson waits until the intercom beeps, ending Neil’s access to our conversation, before he addresses me again, “I’ll back you a hundred percent on this, but give me your word that if at any time the decision becomes detrimental to Holt, you’ll break the promise you made to Allie.”

  The thought makes my skin crawl. But I owe Anderson this promise for his loyalty to Holt and to me. I want to save Richardson for all the reasons Allie wanted me to, but not at the expense of my relationship with Anderson. “You have my word.”

  Allie

  The pictures of the houses on my monitor are beginning to blur. One hour of searching the Multiple Listing Service (MLS) for new listings and then scanning through Holt’s private database of new houses coming onto the market, and I’m still finding nothing better than what I showed Jenny this morning. Apparently the houses I found were only good houses in my eyes, not hers. It’s too small, the layout is weird, the paint colors are horrible; Jenny complained about it all, and I had to force myself not to roll my eyes at her.

  First-world problems, indeed.

  I rub the ache out of my eyes; I can’t keep looking at this screen hoping the perfect house pops out at me. Frustrated at being back at square one with the Lowes, I rise from my desk, desperately needing some fresh air, and remember the patio Liv told me about earlier.

  The floor is dead quiet as I move slowly down the hallway. There are a couple other offices with lights on, telling me I’m not the only insane person here tonight. I make it up the stairs in no time, hurrying outside, letting the door shut loudly behind me.

  A lovely garden, with grass and shrubs, surrounds me, looking more like a small park than a rooftop of a high-rise. I follow the cobblestone pathway with the solar lights lining the sides, heading straight for the balcony.

  The night is dark and clouds are covering much of the sky, hiding the stars and moon, but I inhale a long breath anyway, staring out at the skyline, pretty sure there’s not a skyline in the world better than San Francisco’s.

  I exhale the long breath, as a light breeze carries over the patio, and I shiver, wrapping my arms about myself.

  “You’re cold.”

  I jump and swing around, taking in the view of Micah, finding myself speechless. He looks different now, all stretched out on a wicker love seat, a glass of scotch in his hand. Definitely more relaxed, and maybe less intimidating, too.

  He rises from his seat and takes off his blazer, offering it to me. “Come, take this. You’re cold.”

  I’m thinking I don’t need his coat, watching him undress warms me enough. How a man can look that sexy in a vest, dress shirt, and slacks is utterly beyond me. I’m starting to believe it’s a gift from God, and Micah is well gifted.

  I shiver again, but I’m not entirely sure that’s from the cold. Most things in my life I can explain. My reaction to Micah I can’t. Everything inside of me lights up around him.

  Sensing my pause becoming awkward, I move to him and accept the jacket, draping the fabric around my shoulders. “Thank you.”

  Micah returns to his seat and opens the side table, revealing a cooler. “We’ve got scotch, vodka, or beer. What’s your flavor?”

  I snort. “Looks like I need a drink, huh?”

  “A little.” He grins.

  “Scotch, please.” Something stiff sounds good right about now.

  Micah pours a shot into a glass then hands me the drink. I take a sip, the liquid sliding down my throat, instantly relaxing me. He settles into the corner of the love seat, turning to face me and propping his shoes on the coffee table, one ankle over the other. He’s watching me in that way he does. Like he’s trying to magically discover all my secrets.

  The discomfort I feel at his examination—no, study—of me forces me to break the silence. “I’m surprised you haven’t left for the day. Do you have a suite here or something?” The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Images of Micah naked in his bed flood my mind. I sip my scotch, hastily erasing them.

  The side of his mouth arches, a telling sign that he knows I’m thinking lewd thoughts about him. And why shouldn’t he—I imagine most women think these things in his presence. “No
, I’m leaving soon, but wanted some air first,” he eventually says.

  That I understand. “Don’t like to take work home with you, right?”

  He nods.

  “I do the same.” Another surprise. We actually have something in common. “So, do you have a house close by, then?”

  He takes a longer sip of his scotch than I do, all the while watching me, of course, then he finally decides to answer, “I do have a house, but it’s near the bay. I stay at the Phoenix during the week.”

  The name rings a bell, and soon I realize he’s talking about a hotel. “You live at a hotel?” When he nods in confirmation, I snort. “Now, that’s the dream.”

  He chuckles softly. “I stay there during the week because it’s close to Holt. It saves me from an exhausting commute, considering I typically put in long days.” He holds his glass up, watching the amber liquid spin within. “Besides, my busy schedule doesn’t leave me time to cook or maintain a property myself, so it makes sense.”

  Surprisingly, I actually don’t mind his answer. He doesn’t buy more for himself than what he needs. He’s using what he has already. Okay, another surprise. He doesn’t act totally spoiled.

  One brow arches. “You can’t imagine ever living at a hotel?”

  “No, sorry, I can’t,” I reply, hoping I don’t offend him. “A house isn’t just a house for me; it’s a home, it’s a feeling. And you can’t buy that feeling.”

  He’s watching me intently again, like he’s trying to get a read on me. There’s something very sexy in the way he takes his time, almost like he really pays attention, never rushing through anything.

  Finally, he asks, “Call me curious, but why did you look ready to smash something when you first walked out here?”

  “Oh, I showed Mrs. Lowe a few houses today.” I glance down at the glass in my hand, seeing I’ve made a good dent in my drink before looking at him again. “Sadly, they weren’t her cup of tea.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re amazing at what you do, and I imagine Jenny has no idea what she wants.”

  Just like that, another check mark’s gone at Micah’s support of me.

  “Besides,” he adds, “if she takes too long, Peter will make the decision for her. He won’t want to drag this out.”

  I’m staring into his eyes while I sip my scotch, and he’s still watching me closely. He’s kinda likable, I admit.

  My belly warms with a slow-building heat, but I don’t know if that’s from him or from the scotch. I begin wondering how his sculpted lips would feel on mine. How those strong hands would feel dragging across my sensitive flesh. How that finger that’s gliding over the rim of his glass would feel circling my puckered nipple. And how those smoky eyes would look when they smolder.

  I gulp back the scotch, cringing at the aftertaste, as his low and smooth chuckle slides over me in a delicious promise.

  “Tell me, Allie: why did you get into real estate?” he asks, avoiding the topic we both know we’re thinking about: Us. In Bed. And very naked.

  I look up at him through my lashes, feeling my cheeks flushing hot, and hoping to hell the patio’s lighting isn’t illuminating my skin. “I like finding people homes and giving them somewhere to make memories.”

  He tilts his head, eyes curious. “You sell homes because you hope it gives people happy memories?”

  I get the feeling I’ve surprised him. “It’s nice, you know, being a part of that process and knowing that you’re helping someone find the place where they’ll create their story, whatever that might be.”

  “Hmm…” is all he says.

  I’m a little lost in the way he’s examining me now. To be the center of this man’s focus is a bit mind-boggling, but to have him look at me like I’m a lost treasure he’s finally found is out of this world. I sense my breaths growing shallower and the rise of my chest becoming more evident.

  He’s observing me, I see it.

  I see the way his eyes are taking note of all my reactions to him. Every breath. Every tremble of my hands. Every nibble on my lip. He lowers his feet to the grassy ground, leaning forward a little, resting his arms on his knees. “I didn’t receive the flowers back from you today, so I take it you found them acceptable.”

  “They were beautiful, thank you.” I can’t look away from him. The entire world somehow disappears around me. It’s me, him, and this insane energy flowing between us. Every hair on my body stands straight up and my legs are unconsciously squeezing together against the building warmth between my thighs.

  The silence is stretching out between us, and it is saying so much without saying anything at all. I should move, but I don’t. I should say something, but I can’t. I should do a lot of things, but all I’m doing is breathlessly staring at him.

  He’s moving closer to me now and I can smell the woodsy hints of his cologne. My chest is rising and falling fast with my deep breaths. I’m being pulled forward into him like we’re magnets. I can’t ignore this. I can’t ignore him.

  His lips are right near mine, so very close, and with the scent of scotch on his breath, my mind snaps firmly into place. I recoil, shooting straight to my feet. “I gotta go.” I yank his blazer off, thrusting it at him. “Thanks for the drink.”

  He drapes an arm across the back of the love seat, grinning at me. “Not cold anymore?”

  Damn, he’s so cool and collected, it’s irritating, because I’m totally out of control, and tongue-tied. I turn away, refusing to look at him again, because that’s when I get into trouble.

  I hurry through the door, entering the stairwell, getting far, far away from him, reminding myself to never forget the two lessons I learned tonight.

  Never be alone with Micah.

  And definitely don’t ever drink scotch with him.

  Chapter 5

  Allie

  “Sorry. Excuse me. Sorry,” I mutter, exiting Holt’s elevator the next morning, banging into the four large men occupying the space. As the doors shut behind me, I exhale a long breath, stifled by all the testosterone that surrounded me on the way up to my floor.

  I push the hair off my face, reminding myself of the text Liv sent me ten minutes ago. Go see Kevin—he’s got a lead that might work for the Lowes. Our department. Fifth office on the right. He’s waiting for you. I find the reception area surprisingly quiet, and hurry past, making my way down the hallway, but the offices are empty, too. I’m beginning to wonder if there’s been a zombie apocalypse I don’t know about, when I stop in front of the fifth office on the right, glad there’s a person inside. “Kevin?”

  A twenty-something young man sits behind his desk. He lifts his head and smiles. “Hi. Allie, right?”

  “Yup.” I enter his office, taking a seat in front of his desk. His office is quite a bit smaller than Liv’s and mine, confirming that Micah gave us a bigger office to keep us together. At least, I hope that’s why and it’s not because he thought impressing me would win him a date. Pushing my paranoia aside, I cross my legs, pulling my white skirt over my knee. “Liv tells me that you have a lead on a house coming onto the market.”

  Kevin adjusts his red bow tie against his plaid dress shirt, sighing at the stacks of paperwork on his desk. “Yeah, I do. Or I might, I should say. My clients are on the fence if they want to sell now or wait for the fall. But when Liv sent the email around for what your clients want, the house I have fits their needs perfectly.” He rummages through the pile of papers on his desk. “Give me a sec. I’ve got it here somewhere.”

  I fight my smile, beginning to understand why Holt merged with Richardson. My old boss had proven to know the magic in the residential side of real estate. Holt needs to step up their game, if Kevin is any indicator of their agents.

  “Aha,” Kevin finally exclaims. “Here it is.” He offers me a wrinkled piece of paper.

  I smooth it out and glance at the newly renovated two-story house, scanning over the details. I mentally check off all of the Lowes’ wants. “You’re right. T
his is pretty much perfect.” I look away from the paper to Kevin. “Why are your clients hesitant to sell?”

  “Money, of course.” Kevin picks up his cellphone and clearly types a response to a message before continuing. “They wonder if they’ll get more in the fall, even though I’m telling them they won’t.”

  “I take it, then, they want full asking price?” Which is four million.

  Kevin nods. “They won’t budge, not even by a penny. But the house is worth it, so no one is getting screwed over here.” He pushes his glasses up on his nose. “And your clients? Are they easy to work with?”

  I half shrug. “I showed them a handful of houses that I thought were perfect yesterday, but Mrs. Lowe is pickier than she initially let on. No wiggle room here. I need to find her exactly what she’s looking for, and it has to have the wow factor.”

  Kevin draws in a deep breath before speaking again. “All right, having a potential buyer set up might push my clients to make a move.” He pauses, brows furrowed until he slaps a hand on the desk. “Let me talk to them, and if they’re interested we can set up a showing. Sound good?”

  “Sounds perfect.” I smile. “A win-win for Holt.”

  Kevin laughs, giving a soft nod. “The higher-ups love when we represent both sides of a deal. We’ll each get a gift certificate for dinner if the deal closes.”

  “Really? That’s nice of Holt.”

  “Not Holt,” Kevin corrects. “The gift card comes directly from Micah.”

  My open mouth shuts, words lost to me. I guess I didn’t expect Micah to be so in tune with his employees. Usually the higher-ups don’t deal with the employees who make all the money for them.

  Another surprise from Micah.

  Another damn check mark unchecked.

  “You two are late. Better get moving.”

  I glance over my shoulder, finding the receptionist Anna standing in the doorway. She frowns at Kevin, her topknot bun pulling her forehead tight. “You know how Mr. Holt feels about anyone working during this time.” Her gaze slides to me, creases on her mouth deepen. “You don’t, so I’ll tell you: Mr. Holt gets really annoyed if he finds anyone working during Holt’s Day. Past employees have been written up.”