Hold You Close

by Jessica Linden

  Veronica shrugged. “She’s a big girl. I don’t know what he sees in her though.”

  Tony clenched his hands into fists and stopped walking. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

  She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head. “No, I’m not. Everyone knows Barkov is shady, so what’s he doing with Goody-Two-Shoes Ginny? It seems to me someone else”—she ran her hands through her long blonde ponytail—“might be more his speed.”

  He had to laugh at that. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

  Her lips stretched into a smile as if he’d given her a compliment. Not for the first time, he marveled at the fact that Veronica and Virginia Frazier had come from the same womb.

  “You know I have a point,” she said.

  He considered. “True.” Veronica would thrive on the arm of a man like Barkov—a man who valued status, wealth, and power above all things. Those same things that Ginny had never shown an interest in and likely never would.

  Something wasn’t right, and it wasn’t simply that his own desire to get close to Ginny was clouding his judgment.

  Ginny had to have gotten herself into one seriously fucked-up situation. And he wouldn’t rest until he figured out what the hell it was.

  * * *

  Ginny groaned as she skimmed through the file she’d just opened on the computer. Another file in complete disarray. She shouldn’t be surprised. She could count on one hand the number that were in order.

  Her father placed a mug of coffee on her desk. “For you, cupcake.”

  “Thanks.” She took a sip and winced as she did. Not only was it scalding, but it was bitter and had a sludge-like consistency. She didn’t know how her father drank the stuff.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked.

  In the time that she’d been working at the Frazier Corporation, she’d somehow transitioned into taking over the reins while her father gladly handed them over and seemingly slipped into the role of a dedicated assistant. In truth, he was probably relieved. He’d never claimed to have business savvy and hadn’t wanted to take over the family business when his time came. But when her grandfather died of a heart attack when she was six years old, her father had stepped up to the plate. He’d managed for years just on the talent and portfolio his father had left, but too long had passed and now they were almost sunk.

  “I’m almost done sorting through all the records we have to date along with reconciling the accounts,” Ginny said. “I have to be honest . . . it’s not looking good.”

  Her father frowned. Though he’d known he wasn’t as successful as his predecessor, he also hadn’t realized exactly how unsuccessful he was. Ginny hated having to break that news to him.

  “How bad is it? I have stocks. And we can take another mortgage on the house.”

  “No,” Ginny said quickly. The one thing that had been done right with the company was that it was entirely separate from the family’s personal holdings. If the business went under, her family’s personal assets wouldn’t sink with the ship.

  The trouble was that her father had already broken this rule, mortgaging their house to infuse capital into the dying company. If she didn’t do something, they would probably lose the home that had been in her family for generations after all. Daniel Frazier could write the book on what not to do in business.

  Ginny didn’t have a formal education in business, either. Her degree was in elementary education. But once she’d finished her master’s degree, she’d come home at the request of her mother to help her father. It didn’t take long for her to figure out he was in over his head and probably had been for the last twenty years. So she’d taught herself what she needed to know and called in any favors she could.

  But her efforts were just a drop in the bucket when it came to saving the company.

  “I can talk to Fedor,” Ginny said slowly, and her heart sank into her toes. “Maybe he’ll be willing to invest more.”

  He would be, but it would come with a price.

  “You’re not even married yet,” her father protested. “We can’t impose on him again. He’s already done so much.”

  Fedor had originally planned to withhold all funds until after the wedding, but she made that a condition of her entering the deal: he had to help the business now. Her grandfather’s legacy wouldn’t last until she was officially Mrs. Barkov.

  A sour taste filled her mouth, and it wasn’t from the coffee. Mrs. Barkov. That would soon be her reality. Speaking of that, she had an appointment with the wedding planner. She’d been putting it off as long as she could, hoping to convince Fedor to have a small, simple ceremony, but he insisted on the wedding of the century—a wedding that would be talked about for years to come.

  She almost snorted thinking about it. Those were his words—he wanted to give her “the wedding of the century.” News flash for him: she couldn’t care less about a flashy wedding. But Fedor was under the impression that he could worm his way into polite society by dazzling them.

  That was also part of their deal—she was supposed to be his ticket to the one thing money couldn’t buy—social acceptance. The Frazier family was established and respected, despite her father’s business gaffs.

  She patted her father’s hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

  He nodded and she held in her sigh. She wished he wouldn’t be so complacent. That was how the business got into this mess in the first place.

  An hour later, she sat at a dress shop with Veronica, waiting while the wedding planner and the shop owner rushed around to pull dresses for her to try on. The planner was appalled when she learned that Ginny hadn’t picked out a dress yet, and she’d dropped everything to make an “emergency” appointment.

  “You’d better not make me wear pink,” Veronica said, touching up her lipstick while looking in a compact.

  “What’s wrong with pink?” Ginny asked. She hadn’t given any thought to the bridesmaids’ dresses, but suddenly she had an overwhelming urge for them to be the color of bubble gum.

  Totally petty, but she didn’t care.

  “Just don’t.”

  “I don’t think we’re looking at bridesmaids’ dresses today, anyway.”

  “Then why am I here?”

  Ginny gritted her teeth, squelching the unkind thoughts that were running through her head. Even though she wasn’t looking forward to the wedding, she had hoped she and Veronica could share a sisterly experience. “I’m trying on wedding dresses. I thought it might be nice to have my sister’s opinion.”

  “What’s the deal with you and Tony?”

  Ginny blinked at the abrupt change of subject. “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw you two talking at the race.” Veronica looked slyly at her. “You know, he’s still hot, maybe hotter, if I do say so myself.”

  Ginny pinched the bridge of her nose. “You cheated on him while you were engaged. Surely you can’t think—”

  “Oh, not me. You.”

  “What?” Ginny sputtered. “That’s crazy. For starters, I’m engaged to Fedor. And secondly, he’s your ex-fiancé. Third—” She stopped talking. God, she sounded like a blubbering idiot. Tony wasn’t lying when he said she was a terrible liar. And she wasn’t even lying right now. Everything coming out of her mouth was true. “He just wanted to say hello,” she finished lamely.

  Veronica gave Ginny the side-eye. “What a lucky coincidence that you ran into him. That’s what? Twice in two days?”

  “How did you know he was at the ball?”

  Veronica just smiled as the wedding coordinator and the shop owner hustled over, their arms full of dresses.

  Ginny tried to focus on the yards and yards of white satin they were parading in front of her, but she couldn’t help but dart suspicious glances at her sister. What was she up to?

  Chapter 4

  Tony threw a cheap jab into Knox’s ribs and wasn’t surprised when he found himself on his back on the mat in a chokehold
before he could blink.

  Damn. Knox got the best of him most of the time, but even still, this was just pathetic.

  As Tony was contemplating how to get out of the situation, Knox suddenly released him and hopped to his feet.

  Tony rubbed his throat and looked up at him. “What gives, man?”

  Knox shrugged. “You’re making this too easy. It’s no fun when you half-ass it.”

  Tony took another second to catch his breath, then climbed to his feet. “Again.” This time, it wouldn’t be so easy.

  Knox bounced lightly, waiting for Tony to make the first move. Tony faked a left cross and attempted to sweep Knox’s legs. No go.

  Fuck. He was more than off his game. And the reason for it was a gorgeous brunette who had pervaded every part of his mind.

  Ginny.

  It had been two days since he’d seen her at the 5k. She was a constant in his mind, making it hard to concentrate on anything—here and at work. He’d picked up his phone countless times to call her but, in the end, fought the urge. Better to give her a day or two first. Besides, he needed to figure out how to approach her. There was more to her marrying Barkov than she was letting on, and he was determined to learn the full story.

  He threw his forearm up at the last second to block a blow to his kidneys, but he was too late and took the brunt of the hit. Damn. That was gonna hurt later. And he couldn’t afford to take the beating. Not anymore.

  Just another way his brother’s leaving had fucked up his life. Now he couldn’t take a hit in the ring without worrying about the aftermath.

  Narrowly avoiding a strike to the eye, he stepped back. “I’m out.” He hated doing it, but he couldn’t exactly show up to the next board meeting with a black eye.

  Before, he’d fought with the best of the guys, had trained until he was almost at the top, not caring how beat up he got in the process. It was all about the adrenaline rush, the high of raw hand-to-hand combat. Since the gym went under and he started spending most of his time at work, he’d gotten soft.

  But priorities changed. Sometimes against one’s will.

  Knox tossed him some tape. “Wrap ’em. We’ll hit the bags.”

  Tony exited the cage and strode over to the line of punching bags hanging along the wall. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, then he started whaling on the smooth leather. He wished it were Barkov’s face.

  That fucker did not deserve Ginny.

  And I do?

  He wasn’t even gonna go there. He’d worry about that after he got her away from Barkov.

  He wiped the sweat from his brow and ripped the tape off his hands. A glance at the clock had him cursing. His lunch hour had turned into nearly three.

  “I gotta go,” he said.

  Knox nodded. “The kids will be here soon anyway.”

  Tony still found it hard to believe that tougher-than-fuck Knox, who had once been king of the underground MMA circuit, now spent his days working with troubled teens.

  As if on cue, the front door opened and two Dobermans pranced in, followed by their owner, Amelia, who helped run the Anna Farrington Youth Center. Today, Lula and Bambi’s necks were adorned with sparkled collars, making them look more like pampered prize poodles than the sleek, trained animals they were. They trotted over to the fluffy beds in the corner and perched as they always did, prepared to preside over the afternoon’s happenings.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Amelia said. “Smells like sweaty men in here.” She pressed the button on an air-freshener dispenser, one of four permanent fixtures at the perimeters of the room.

  “I carried the supplies upstairs for you,” Knox said. While Knox ran the training part of the after-school program, Amelia supervised homework time.

  “Thank you.” Amelia patted him on the cheek and Knox smiled down at the older woman. Tony had already vaguely known Amelia, since she also came from old money, though she was mainly a recluse from high society. He never would have guessed she and Knox would develop a pseudo mother-son relationship. The tough-as-nails woman brought out a soft side in Knox that Tony hadn’t even known existed when they were fighting the underground circuit.

  Then again, Knox’s life had certainly done a one-eighty since he had gotten involved with society heiress Natalie Farrington Kent.

  As soon as Amelia had disappeared upstairs—the dogs loyally following—Tony risked a sidelong glance at Knox, who immediately scowled, reminding Tony was Knox was still no one to mess with.

  “What?” Knox asked with a growl.

  “Nothing,” Tony said, wiping the grin off his face. One ass-beating was enough for today.

  * * *

  Tony pulled into the parking space marked with a shiny new CEO sign. It was right in front of the doors of the building, closer than even the handicapped parking spaces. He stayed in his car, shifting uncomfortably as employees strode past, coming from the far ends of the parking lot. While they would get reprimanded if they didn’t clock back in in exactly one hour, Tony had the luxury of taking all the time he wanted for lunch. In theory, anyway. His father would most likely give him shit for being out of the office for so long.

  Guilt ran through his gut, not because of the tongue-lashing due from his father, but because of how the employees respected and looked up to him, not knowing he hadn’t even wanted this job.

  If Adamo Enterprises hadn’t been Nonno’s baby, built from the ground up, he would have walked. But he owed it to his grandfather’s legacy to keep the business successful and in the family. It’s what Nonno would have wanted.

  Fucking Marco.

  His older brother had unexpectedly flown the coup and joined the military. Their father’s threats, bribes, and other attempts to cajole Marco into staying fell on deaf ears, so the family responsibilities had fallen to Tony. He’d like to go a few rounds with Marco for that, but then again he was probably taking enough of a beating on his tour in the Middle East. Tony understood why he’d done what he did, but he wished it hadn’t also fucked him over in the process.

  The real pisser was that Marco left just as the brothers were getting their shit in order to go into business for themselves—Adamo Sports Bar & Grille. Tony was supposed to be the point man while Marco would be a silent partner. Now that dream was as empty as the building they’d purchased to house it.

  Tony lucked out and his father was nowhere to be seen in the building. That probably meant he was down in the lab. Though his father hadn’t inherited Nonno’s chemistry prowess, he still liked to be involved in research and development. His father’s skills lay in the business side of things. He’d taken the small successful company founded on the single patent for a proprietary drug Nonno had developed and turned it into a force to be reckoned with in the pharmaceutical industry. Adamo Enterprises was on the cutting edge of medicine and recruited the top minds in the field.

  And Tony intended to keep it that way. If he was forced to be here, then he might as well do it right.

  The company was certainly profitable, but that wasn’t where its value was, not in Tony’s mind. And he knew his grandfather would agree with him. The family was already wealthy, so Nonno’s intent in forming the company hadn’t been to rake in money. Rather, he had wanted to use his skill in chemistry to develop and produce quality drugs that eased suffering. It was a noble cause. Aside from the familial duty, that was why Tony stuck around.

  As soon as he sat at his desk, Ingrid, his executive assistant, stuck her head in the door. “Do you have a moment?”

  “Sure.”

  She took a seat across from his desk, iPad in hand. “We need to review your schedule for this month. There are still several outstanding invitations.”

  A headache pounded at edge of his temples. Damn. He’d been dodging those bullets for months now. He sighed. “Okay. Lay them on me.”

  Ingrid chuckled. “Don’t sound so glum. You’d think you were on the hook for a cavity search rather than a social event.”

  When she put it
that way, Tony supposed he was getting the better end of the deal. Barely.

  He had no desire to socialize with the clones of his father who mostly attended these things—fake people who’d smile to your face but stab you in the back if it would earn them a nickel.

  To be fair, he thought begrudgingly, since he’d attended a few of these events, he’d realized that not all the attendees were like that. But even still, he had nothing in common with these people. They preferred playing tennis and golf in their fancy polo shirts. He, on the other hand, got his kicks beating the shit out of people in a cage, no designer shirt required.

  “The first one is a charity event for cystic fibrosis. Next Friday.” She looked at him expectantly, hand poised above the tablet.

  “Can we just send a donation?”

  Ingrid pursed her lips, and Tony sighed. She had been with the company since nearly the beginning. As a child, he would visit the office and play with Matchbox cars on the floor of her office. He couldn’t shake the weird feeling that came from being her boss. He felt like it should be the other way around. Not that she’d ever said or done anything to make him feel that way.

  “Fine, I’ll go,” he said.

  “Good. The next one is an engagement party for Tom Grekowski’s son. It’s this Saturday.”

  The Grekowskis were old family friends, but still he frowned. “Why was that sent to you?”

  “Your no-show reputation precedes you.”

  His frown deepened. Ingrid’s time shouldn’t be wasted on his personal things. She wasn’t his damn social secretary. He opened his mouth to decline but paused. Weren’t the Fraziers also friendly with the Grekowskis? He tried to remember if he’d seen them at any of the events he’d attended years ago, with Veronica, but it was all a blur. Still, the chances were good.

  In fact, the chances were good Ginny would be at a lot of these events. He didn’t know much about Barkov, but he knew the man was social climber. Now that their engagement was official, surely Barkov would take advantage of the Frazier name to try to integrate himself into society.

  The man’s sleaziness might just work to his advantage.