The Gate (Dark Path Series)

by Grant, KT

  “Things are going to get much more difficult over the next few months. Crawford is going to ramp up his efforts in taking down the company.” Straightening, he gave her a no-nonsense stare. “I won’t allow him to do that.”

  “There are a lot of things you won’t let Max do.” She tore off the string, causing a rip in the fabric. “Am I part of this? You won’t let him have me, is that it?”

  He stood, and she stiffened. If he tried to touch her, she would slap him.

  Walking to the window, he gazed outside, his hands in his pockets. “I don’t want you to end up like Page.” He turned around, vulnerability crossing his features. “I love you. I don’t want to see you hurt. Crawford will tear apart your heart and soul. I can’t stand by and let that happen.”

  “You’re ruled by your hate for Max. I knew what I was taking on when he and I started dating.”

  “Dating?” He snorted, moving over to the table. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

  “I don’t understand what you mean.” She rolled her shoulders to relieve the tension there. Her muscles were tight with spasms shooting up and down her back. She sat on the couch to drink her lukewarm tea.

  “I think you know what I mean.” Carrying his briefcase, he sat beside her.

  She burrowed farther into the corner of the couch.

  He rolled his eyes, amused. “I’m not going to bite you.”

  “I don’t trust you.”

  Eyes darkening, he cleared his throat. He murmured something under his breath that sounded like “next time.”

  Opening his case, he took out a folder filled with papers and dropped it on the coffee table. “You need to read this.”

  Picking up the file, she set it on her lap but didn’t open it. “What is it?”

  “These are profiles of women Max has ‘dated’ in the past, including Page. The women in that folder have emotional problems or suffer from some form of substance abuse.” He hung his arm over the edge of the couch. “He enjoys preying on weak, damaged women.”

  “So, you think I’m weak and damaged like the others?” Tossing the folder on the table, she shot up from the couch. “Am I in there?”

  “No.”

  “What is this for?”

  “I started building it ever since Page’s breakdown and suicide attempt thanks to Crawford. Also, it’s not a bombshell that he wanted to take over Walsh Publishing. If he went too far, I would’ve leaked the information to the press. They’d have a field day.” A satisfied grin filled his face. “Crawford might have influence to a degree with the newspapers his company owns, but he can’t stop the Internet or other sources from running a story about a well respected media mogul who gets off on abusing women due to his addiction to violent and depraved sex acts.”

  She was stunned straight to her core that the man in front of her would go to such lengths for revenge. “You really hate him.”

  “He’s been a thorn in my side ever since we attended the same private high school. What he did to—” He ran his hand over his mouth. “Now, he has you in his web. I won’t stand by and let him ruin you—”

  “Like he did Page?” She rubbed her arms, cold rushing through her.

  He gave her a sad smile. “Exactly.”

  “You like to compare me to Page. I’m nothing like her.” She paced the floor, shaken. A pounding had started in the back of her head, and she blinked, all of a sudden lightheaded.

  “Maybe not in the physical sense of the word, but you two are alike in some ways. Page wasn’t sociable like you. She’d rather stay at home than go out and—”

  “You’re reaching, Christopher,” she snapped.

  “Am I?” He picked up her half-full mug, swirling a finger in the liquid. “Not long ago, you had a phobia of big crowds and large social settings, trying to get out of going to them because you feared having a panic attack. You have a select group of friends and work in an industry where you can stay at home. I can’t remember the last time you had a date.”

  “Funny, I don’t remember you having a degree in psychology.” She dug her fingers into her temples.

  “If you sit down, I can massage your head.” He patted the seat next to him.

  “You’re a piece of work. You spring this news on me and expect me to flirt with you? Did you think I’d change my mind about Max and fall into your arms?” She shot him an angry glare. “It’s not going to work that way.”

  Chris drank her tea, rolling the empty mug between his palms. “Then why are you here hiding in your apartment when you could be with him? Why hasn’t he called you?”

  “How do you know he hasn’t?” she snapped.

  “Call it intuition.”

  Purple spots appeared in front of her eyes. She blinked them away. “I’m going to lie down.”

  He stood when she headed toward her bedroom. Picking up the folder, he held it out to her. “Read when you’re ready. I can’t force you, but it should give you more insight on Crawford.”

  “And if I read it, then what? You expect me to cut all ties with him?”

  “That would be my deepest wish.” His brushed a finger over her hair. “We can talk more about the issue after your father’s will is—”

  “I won’t be around for us to talk. I’m staying in New Orleans with Alyson.”

  Footsteps and women’s voices came from outside the door. Snatching the folder, she marched into her bedroom. “Enjoy your dinner. I’m going to bed.”

  She slammed her door shut and landed on her bed. She stared up at the ceiling as shadows overhead formed from the setting sun.

  No one knocked or barged in. Their voices filtered through her door, laughter from her girlfriends. She played with the edge of the folder.

  “Damn you, Chris,” she muttered.

  Sitting up, she clicked on the bedside lamp and tucked her pillows behind her back. Whatever she ended up reading could change her opinion about Max forever. But if she didn’t read it, she would always wonder.

  She pulled the folder onto her lap, opening it. She didn’t stop until she’d read every single page. When she finished, she dropped her head into her hands, cursing herself for being such a fool.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sneaking out wasn’t as difficult as Erika thought it would be. It was almost eight in the morning. Patty had taken the day off. Neither Chris nor Kim would stop by until closer to ten. Alyson would visit in time for lunch to coincide with some lawyer or financial guru of her father’s who wanted to talk about his assets and stock in the company that now belonged to her. She didn’t want to even think about the amount of money her father had left her. None of that mattered. She had her own savings thanks to her books. All that was important was meeting with the person she hoped was at the Starbucks in Times Square. There would be a lot of traffic and people on a Friday. She would blend in. Then maybe she wouldn’t feel as if she was being watched all the time.

  She’d become paranoid. Whenever she ventured outside, the same black town car with two men was parked across from the brownstone. When she pointed it out to Chris, he told her it was for her protection because she could be a target now that she was a wealthy woman. She found it strange, even with her father’s company close to bankrupt, he’d still had enough money to be considered rich.

  Maybe that’s why Max hadn’t tried to contact her. Chris monitored all her calls. With only the ground floor phone available to her, she couldn’t use it without raising suspicion. The napkin Max used to write his phone number was also missing. She forgot where she put it or if she threw it away by accident. Losing the napkin had been such a dumb move on her part.

  But no one thought to look at her Internet access. When she was alone, she checked her email. She didn’t have Max’s personal email, but she found The Gate website. There was an email to send questions or ask for information. Taking a chance, she addressed her email to Catherine, stating she needed to see her as soon as possible. When she woke up the next day, she found an email from her, g
iving her condolences and asking what was going on. Why didn’t she use her phone? She wrote back, saying she couldn’t explain in an email, that needed to speak to her face to face. She gave the time, date, and place, asking her to come alone because she needed to talk to her about Max. Later, when she had a free moment away from everyone, she read Catherine’s acceptance.

  The brisk November air cut through her lungs like jagged glass. Lately, she had trouble catching her breath, but it wasn’t because of the cold. Ever since she read the file Chris gave her, she’d started using her inhaler more. It’d become a crutch.

  She entered the coffee shop, scanning the room. At this time of day, it was busy with a long line and people sitting at tables talking to their companions or typing away on their laptops. She spotted the dark haired club owner sitting at a booth, staring into her cup.

  Approaching the table, she sat down. “Hello, Catherine. Thanks for meeting me so early.”

  The woman nodded, raising her cup in a salute. “No problem. My insomnia has been acting up.”

  The vivacious woman she’d talked to many times at The Gate was gone, replaced with a more restrained, mellow one. She didn’t wear any makeup, and her hair was flat, tucked behind her ears. Dark shadows lined her eyes, and her silver nail polish was chipped. Her sweater was far too big for her lanky frame, and she wore a brown crinkle scarf around her neck.

  “I’m not getting much sleep either,” she admitted.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your father’s passing.” Catherine gave her a sympathetic look.

  “Thank you. It’s been a rough week. Dad’s wake is next week. Then the funeral and the reading of his will. I fly out next weekend. So much has to be done in such a short time.”

  “You’re taking a trip? Does Max know?”

  “I’m going away for a while. He doesn’t know.” Opening her bag, she took out the file. “He hasn’t contacted me since the night my father died. I’ve been overwhelmed with people around me, expecting me to break down.” She blinked back tears, the urge to cry almost swallowing her. “And I lost my blasted cell phone and can’t call him because I’m never alone and…shit, I’m rambling.”

  “The death of a loved one can make anyone lose all common sense.” Catherine tapped the side of her cup. “After Cameron died, I stayed with my parents, not moving from my bed. They hovered over me, expecting me to do something dangerous like he did. I lost a ton of weight, wouldn’t shower, cut myself off from the world. It was Max who bitch-slapped me into living again.” She smiled warmly. “He told my parents to back off, and for me to stop feeling sorry for myself and move on.”

  “Wow, that’s harsh. But then again, coming from him, it doesn’t surprise me.”

  She shook her head. “I was very depressed. I gave my parents and Max a scare because I ended up in the hospital for starvation and dehydration. He was so pissed off. We had a raging fight, and I ended up slapping him. Then I broke down in tears, begging him to help me because I felt so lost. He did. Ever since then he’s been my rock.”

  She leaned forward. “But there must be a reason you wanted to meet me here of all places. The fact you haven’t seen him yourself makes me question a lot of things.”

  Erika looked away from the woman’s accusing glare and stared out the window. Cars drove by, and people walked down the street, fighting the frigid wind, dressed in layers, hurrying to whatever destination they needed to get to. It was a comforting, familiar sight she would miss while in New Orleans.

  A cough tickled her throat, and she pulled her inhaler from her purse, taking a puff. The burst of air rushing through her lungs soothed her. “You’re right. I’ve been weak. But there are a few reasons I took such lengths to meet with you. Now that I’m an heiress, I’m watched for my own protection. I also have a fri– um, someone in my life who doesn’t like Max. If he had his way, he’d destroy him. Max was romantically involved with this person’s married sister at the time. It ended badly, and he hates him for what he did. When he found out Max and I—”

  “Are fucking?” Catherine grinned with no real emotion behind it.

  “It’s not just fuc—” She shook her head. “It’s more than that between us, or I thought it was.” She laid the folder on the table. “What’s in here tells me otherwise.”

  Catherine eyed it but didn’t take it. “He’s fucked a lot of women, but with you it wasn’t just a physical urge for him. He really cares for you.”

  A sting pierced her chest. “Thanks, for making me aware of that fact.”

  “I like to tell it like it is.” She crossed her arms and cocked her head.

  “Has he said anything about me?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen him.” She uncrossed her arms to twirl the bottom of her scarf. “I’ve been busy with…things. My lover, who has been traveling abroad on business, has come back to the city. I’ve been spending all my time with him. I haven’t talked to Max since he came back. I’ll also be going away on a trip. We leave Sunday night for an extended vacation. Like you, I had to sneak away. I tired him out last night. When I left him, he was sleeping like the dead.”

  She eyed Catherine. For a woman reunited with her lover, she didn’t seem happy or well satisfied. “Who’s going to run things at The Gate while you’re away?”

  “Max will take care of it. My lover has offered one of his people to be in charge while I’m away. The Gate will be in good hands until I come back.”

  Catherine didn’t sound sure. She wanted to know more about her mysterious lover since Max had mentioned she had a master, who she guessed was one in the same. But then Catherine took the folder and opened it, scanning a paper.

  After a few beats, her eyes widened. “What the hell is this?”

  “These are profiles of some of the women Max was involved with over the years. It’s from a trusted source who investigated him and wants to use it as blackmail to stop him from stealing Walsh Publications in its vulnerable state. My source thinks after I read the information, I’ll stay away from Max.” She took another hit from her inhaler. “The proof here scares me. I can’t help but wonder if he did target me.”

  “Target you? To seduce you and learn secrets that could help him steal your family’s company?”

  “Possibly. Why out of any woman, would he be interested in me? I’m pretty average and boring.”

  Catherine rolled her eyes. “Oh please, stop with the self pity. You’re not like these women.” She shoved the folder away in disgust.

  “You haven’t read all the profiles.” She tapped the folder. “There’s about ten in total here. Most have the same qualities and personalities.” She took a deep breath. “I-I’m like them.”

  “How are you like them, Erika? It’s foolish to think you have anything in common with these women. These reports are written by some stranger who was paid a lot of money to distort the facts.”

  “Most have never had a long lasting romantic relationship, except for one. Most were on some type of medication for an emotional or psychological issue or were seeing a therapist. They all had nice incomes and appeared to be close with their families. They had a small group of friends. But when things ended with Max, which he was responsible for, these women acted out.” She flipped through the folder, presenting the report on Page. “This woman in particular cheated on her husband to be with him. When he broke things off, she had a breakdown and tried killing herself. I’ve asked him—”

  “Ah yes, Page. She’s Christopher Milton’s older sister, isn’t she?” Catherine rubbed her forehead. “I met her before once. She wasn’t all there, if you catch my meaning. Max thought bringing her to The Gate and having her experience the world and people there would help her in some way. It was the first time I ever told him he was wrong, but he wouldn’t listen to me. She was broken way before he got involved.”

  “So, you can tell me what went on between them—”

  She held up her hand. “I just met her one night. When I told him she was bad news
, we had a fight. After that, he never bought her there again. I don’t know if it was because of me or something happened between the two of them. That was the first time he’d invited one of his lovers to The Gate, and it backfired. You’re the second.”

  “Maybe I’m more like Page—”

  “No, you aren’t.” Taking the picture from Erika, she slipped it back inside the folder. “You’re not weak and unstable. You’re strong, determined, and understanding. You don’t judge or look down on others. Even after everything you saw when Max brought you to The Gate, you came back unafraid and still wanted him. Not many women could swallow it. All those women, including Page, were weak. You were never weak. You don’t realize it, but you’re his equal in so many ways.”

  She’d never thought of herself as weak, but not strong like Max either.

  “I’m not some dumb blonde you know.” Catherine fiddled with the lid of her cup. “By the way, I’m a natural blonde. I used to have long hair down the middle of my back but chopped it all off and dyed it after Cameron died. It was a self-flagellation thing.” She ran her fingers through her dark hair. “I guess it just stuck.”

  “You see me as a strong thinking, warrior type woman, but everyone else thinks the opposite, including Max. I was willing to be his….” She swallowed, unable to say the words.

  “His submissive or his slave?” she asked.

  Her face heated. “How about both?”

  “You can’t be both. It’s one or the other. Being a submissive isn’t a bad thing. Everyone thinks the dominant has all the power. That’s not the case.” A small smile curved her mouth but didn’t reach her eyes.

  “I’m not sure what to do with Max. We have so many unresolved issues between us. I have a feeling we’ll never work them out. The last time I tried talking to him, he used sex to drive his point home. I didn’t stop him. I…welcomed it. But it didn’t fix anything.”

  “That’s Max. I find it hilarious he can solve problems at the drop of a hat with his business and other professional matters, but when it comes to personal, he uses his sexual prowess to get what he wants. There’s never been a woman who’s mastered him, where he’s the one to get on his knees and beg for mercy.” Catherine chuckled softly. “That would be one sight I’d love to see. Max on his knees begging a woman to use him rather than the other way around.”