He returned to the living room and stood there for a second, at a complete loss. The whole place looked as if Greer would return at any moment. And maybe he would. He had before.
A sound from the door caught his attention and he turned to find Greer’s neighbor standing there. “I brought the package over.” She nodded to the box on the floor just inside the door that appeared to be from an online retailer.
Yet another clue that wherever Greer had gone, he had expected to be back in time to receive whatever he’d ordered online. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” She was wearing a huge sweater over leggings and the material swallowed her thin frame as she folded her arms over her chest. “Is he okay?”
“I hope so.” He grabbed his wallet and picked out a business card for her. “If you see him, I’d appreciate a call. My name is Reece.”
“Natalie.” She accepted the card, backed out into the hall, and waited for him to shut and lock the door. “I’ll keep an eye out for him.”
“Thanks, Natalie. And if you happen to talk to him, tell him his brothers are worried.”
Back in the Escalade, he called the office to tell the twins—and Jude, who must have arrived shortly after he left—what he’d found at Greer’s place. Cam suggested they file a missing person’s report, while Jude said they should wait. After all, Greer was a thirty-five-year-old man and could drop off the face of the earth if he wanted to—and he’d done so before. Multiple times. He’d eventually turn up again, just like the last few times he’d disappeared, and act like he hadn’t been gone. Vaughn agreed with Jude, and it was decided they’d give him a week—the same amount of time he’d been gone before—to show up. If he didn’t, then they’d reevaluate the situation.
Goddamn Greer. None of them needed this stress right now. And from him of all people? What the fuck was going on?
Reece barely made it into DMW’s office before he was cornered by Alicia. “What happened to you last night?”
“I wasn’t feeling well—”
“You were caught in a fire?” She all but shrieked it. “It’s all over the news! Are you okay?”
“Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”
“And Shelby?”
“She’s fine. We’re both…fine.” And let’s see how many more times he could use the word “fine” in a sentence. He edged past Alicia and hit the button to call the elevator. “Is Cliff here?”
Her brow wrinkled. “I don’t think so. He doesn’t usually come in on Saturdays. Why?”
He’d have to call him later, then. The elevator arrived and he stepped inside, pushing the button for the top floor. “Nothing. Where’s Dylan?”
“In your office.”
Reece shot out an arm to catch the door before it closed. “Why?”
She bit her lip. “Irving James is here.”
“On a Saturday? Why didn’t you call me?”
“I was about to. He just got here maybe five, ten minutes ago.”
“Fuck,” he muttered and let the doors slide shut. He hardly recognized the man he saw in the reflection on the polished steel doors. He looked like he’d been dragged through hell. He rubbed his hands over his unshaven face and through his hair, trying to tame it.
Jesus, he wasn’t even wearing a tie. How could he have forgotten a tie?
He found Dylan and James seated in the leather chairs in his office, deep in discussion. Dylan did a double take when he spotted him.
“Reece! I wasn’t expecting you in today. You should be home.”
“I’m fine.” And there was that word again. He needed to come up with a better adjective. He plastered on a smile and strode toward James, hand outstretched. “I’m sorry I had to leave the party early last night. I wasn’t feeling well.”
He must have looked the part of an ill man, because James used a small bottle of sanitizer after the handshake. “I heard you were also caught in a fire last night?”
He nodded and kept his face calm and pleasant, even as his insides jumped around in complete panic. “At my parents’ house.”
A frown pulled James’s brows into a crease over his eyes. “And didn’t your wife’s coffee shop burn down recently? I seem to remember reading something about it.”
“It did,” he admitted, wincing internally. “But I can assure you, I’ve not let my recent troubles affect DMW Systems.”
“I was just assuring Mr. James as much,” Dylan said smoothly. “We’re still operating full steam ahead, and our profits have never been better.”
James’s lips twisted in distaste. “And as I was telling Mr. Porter, I’d like to have my accountants look through your books before we finalize anything.”
“Absolutely,” Reece said, a spark of hope flaring deep in his chest. He’d been expecting this request, so maybe everything hadn’t been fubar’d yet. “I’ll make it happen.”
“Good.” James relaxed and even smiled. “Now that business is out of the way, I’m attending a charity gala for the Washington National Opera tomorrow night. I’ve heard you’re both WNO patrons. Are you feeling well enough to attend another event? I’d like to introduce you to some of my business partners. The invitation extends to your wives as well.”
Shelby at the opera. That was exactly the situation he’d hoped to avoid putting her in. Damn. But what other choice did he have?
He again forced a smile. “We accept. Gladly.”
Chapter Twenty
Shelby woke to an empty apartment, shocked that Reece was already gone for the day. Was the man a machine? Because he’d taken a category five emotional wallop last night, and no average human withstood that kind of heartache and got up for work the following day. Just wasn’t natural. It hadn’t even been her house and she was sick about its loss, maybe even more so than when she’d lost The Bean Gallery.
Which reminded her. She was going to be late for her meeting with the arson investigators if she didn’t get moving.
The meeting went about as well as she expected, given the fire last night. They told her the security footage had gone missing before anyone had the chance to view it. She told them about Steven and her suspicions that he might have come back to terrorize her, but left off the part about thinking he was dead because The Headhunters had killed him.
By the time the meeting was over, she was exhausted and starving. She’d turned off her phone out of courtesy, but while waiting for the elevator, she turned it back on. It vibrated with an incoming text message from Reece. They’d been invited by Irving James to an opera gala tomorrow night.
Wow. That sounded fun.
Not.
She sent him a quick text back, then called Libby to apologize for last night and see if she wanted to meet for a late lunch. She did, and they ended the day with a shopping trip. Turned out, some quality girl-time was exactly what Shelby had needed to brighten her spirits.
She got back to the apartment around eight that night, fully expecting to see Reece— nope. Still not home.
Was he avoiding her?
That didn’t seem like him. Maybe he was just dealing with…things. Libby had mentioned the guys were all worried about Greer. Maybe they were out looking for him. And no doubt Reece had a ton of paperwork to fill out about his parents’ house. She’d had reams of it after the fire at The Bean Gallery.
God, she missed that place. Up until The Bean Gallery, she’d always hated her jobs. But, thing was, running the coffee shop had never felt like a job to her. She’d loved her workers and the customers. She’d loved ordering inventory and the ever-changing puzzle of scheduling. She’d loved the badly painted “masterpieces” on each table. Loved jumping behind the counter and whipping up a latte when it got too busy for the baristas to handle it on their own.
Maybe when the arson investigation ended and her insurance paid out, she’d buy a new place. If the arson investigation ever ended. They didn’t seem to be getting very far with it.
With the apartment so silent, she needed a distraction from her thoughts, so she f
ound a Japanese monster movie on Netflix and huddled down on the couch to watch it. Sam the Cat snuggled up next to her, apparently having decided to completely ignore her bird’s existence. A step in the right direction, she supposed. At least Sam didn’t view Poe as lunch anymore.
She’d taken Poe out of his cage when she got home, and he now sat on his perch by the window, happily imitating the sound effects on the movie—one of his favorite pastimes. And with the background noise of her bird’s mimicry and the cat’s purring, she didn’t stand a chance of staying awake and drifted off long before the movie ended.
She wasn’t sure what woke her, but Shelby opened her eyes sometime later to find someone had covered her with a blanket, and the cat was now curled up on her stomach.
Coffee. That was the scent that had awakened her. Freshly brewed coffee.
She propped herself up on her elbows and peeked over the back of the couch. Reece was pouring himself a mug from the pot, but his attention was focused on a notebook laid out on the counter, and every once in a while he’d mutter to himself and scribble something down. He was shirtless, in pajama pants and his glasses, and his hair stuck up from multiple passes of his hands. Definitely had a little bit of a mad scientist look going for him right now.
He walked away with his notebook in hand, completely forgetting his coffee on the counter.
Smiling, she picked up the cat, set him aside, and went into the kitchen to fix herself a coffee because it smelled too damn good to ignore. She gathered Reece’s mug and followed him to his office. “You forgot something.”
He glanced up, wide-eyed. “Shit. Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet.”
“No, I don’t think it was you. Just a general sense I wasn’t alone anymore. And the smell of coffee.” She set his mug on his desk before taking a sip from her own. “It’s my catnip.”
He nodded and went back to whatever it was he was doing on the computer. “I hope you don’t mind I put Poe back in his cage. I was a little worried Sam might wake up feeling peckish.”
“Actually, they seem to be getting along. Or at least they’re tolerating each other. Did you find Greer?”
He looked up again, startled. “How’d you know we’re looking for him?”
“I had lunch with Libby. She mentioned it.”
“He’ll turn up. He always does.” Reece’s mouth kicked up in the corner. “I noticed we have some new paintings. Take it you also went shopping with Libby?”
She shrugged. “This place needs some color. Hence the pillows. And now the paintings. I just have to figure out where to hang them.”
Another quick flash of a smile. “I’d like one in here if you don’t mind.”
Pleasure bloomed in her chest. “Really?”
“Yes, really. I agree this place needs some color.” He pushed out a sigh, shook his head. “I didn’t even realize I was living in a high-end institution instead of a home until you bought those crazy pillows.”
“Wow. I feel like I just won some kind of war. What’s all this?” She eased a hip down on the edge of his desk and studied his spread of notebooks. She picked one up. “Hey, wait. Aren’t these the notebooks you took from your parents’ house?”
Reece felt like a kid caught with his hand in the candy jar. “It’s nothing.” He started to close his laptop, but stopped short when she flipped through the notebook she was holding.
“Reece! These drawings are awesome. Did you do these?”
Heat crawled across the back of his neck. “Just sketches.”
“They’re damn good for sketches.” She sent him a sideways glance. “What exactly are you working on so late? I have a sneaky suspicion it’s not anything for DMW or Wilde Security.”
“It’s…nothing.” He didn’t know why he was so embarrassed to have been caught, but there it was. He snatched the notebook from her. “A hobby.”
“You actually have time for a hobby?”
“Not as much as I’d like.”
She craned her neck to better see the screen of the half closed laptop. “What is it? C’mon, we’re full of secrets already. What’s one more?”
He sighed. If anyone deserved a peek into this part of his life, it was her. After all, she was the reason he’d started pursuing this particular “hobby” again. Being with her, he realized he’d let go of too much of himself in the past few years, and he wanted to get back to a version of the person he used to be. These notebooks, retrieving them from his old bedroom, had been his first step in that journey.
Sucking in a breath, he pushed the computer open and waited for her laughter, her derisive comments.
Instead, she let out an ear-piercing squeal of delight. “It’s a video game! You’re designing a video game? Cool.” She plopped down beside him and used the wireless mouse to click through the mock-up graphics he’d been fiddling with. “This is…really good. I mean it. I’ve played many a video game in my time, and these graphics are amazing. What’s it about?”
A little thrill sung through his chest. Was that…excitement? It had been a long time since anything got him excited—well, beyond his recent sexcapades with Shelby. They were damn exciting and, admittedly, the only time he’d felt alive since his parents died.
But right now, his inner computer geek was thrilled at her compliments and chomping at the bit to show off. He took control of the mouse and clicked through some of the landscapes he’d mapped out. “It’s a first-person shooter and starts as a war game. Gamers play as a group of soldiers tasked with a covert operation in a war-torn country, but as they move through the levels, it becomes more and more a survival horror story.”
She gazed up from the screen and into his eyes. “So basically like real war.”
He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “But with monsters and zombies. The amount of horror the players face depends entirely on their choices throughout the game and, if they aren’t careful, they eventually become the monsters themselves.”
“I’ve never seen you this…animated. You love this stuff.” She poked a finger at his shoulder and grinned. “Don’t lie. I can see through you, Hershey, and right now your nerd is showing. It’s hot.”
He huffed out a laugh. “I wasn’t going to lie. This…” He waved a hand at the screen. “In high school, this is what I thought I’d be doing by now. Designing video games for a living. It’s challenging and, hell, it’s fun. But in college I realized video games were not going to provide financial stability for my brothers, so I tweaked the war game I was developing, and it became a simulation. When I finished school and entered the intelligence branch of the army, one of my superiors caught wind of my simulation program and it took off from there.”
“And you created DMW Systems and got that financial stability.”
“For nearly four years. But my government contracts aren’t being renewed because of budget cuts and I need this contract with Irving James…” He closed his eyes and—shit, he was going to tell her, wasn’t he? The secret he’d been holding deep inside, the one eating its way through his gut. “I hate it, Shelby.” He opened his eyes, met hers. Expected to see surprise, but all he got was sympathetic understanding, and that spurred him on. “I hate DMW. I’m ashamed I ever associated my parents’ initials with it.”
“Oh,” she whispered and touched the back of his hand. “David and Meredith Wilde. DMW. I just got that. But why are you ashamed of it?”
“It’s falling apart around me, and I can’t even figure out why.”
She opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it again after a moment and squeezed his hand. “You’re thinking the blackmail is about more than money, like someone is sabotaging you. Lena, maybe?”
“It’s not Lena. She’s not smart enough.” But the thought of sabotage had occurred to him before now. More than once, in fact. Except he didn’t have any enemies that he knew of, so who hated him enough to want his company to fail? That was the part he couldn’t wrap his mind around. He shook his head, defeat weighing down his shoul
ders. “It doesn’t matter. Like I said last night, I’m fucked. I can’t keep paying the blackmailer or I’ll go bankrupt, but as soon as I stop, Irving James will find out all about you…and it’ll be over. Might as well pack up my office and start handing out pink slips now.”
She winced. “I’m so sorry. I thought marrying you would help solve the problem, not make it worse. I hate that my past is coming back to bite you.”
He looked at her, saw a glimmer of tears in her eyes. Aw, fuck. He was wallowing, and he hated wallowers. Worse, he was being insensitive. He turned in his seat to fully face her and cupped his hand around the back of her neck, drawing her in closer. “Your past should have no bearing on this situation. Jesus, I’m scrambling for a contract from a man I don’t like, a man whose politics and world views I don’t even agree with. I’ve spent too much time trying to please him, forcing you to do the same, and it’s starting to piss me off. If anyone should be apologizing here, it’s me.”
Her lips curved upward into a tempting bow, and he had to kiss her. He meant it to be quick, but the moment he tasted her, he was lost. How did she do this to him? Every time they touched, his higher thought shut down, and he became nothing but a bundle of raw need and desperate want. And right now, more than anything, he needed to feel her bare skin under his hand. He pushed up her nightshirt and curved his fingers around her hips, pulling her off the desk and settling her between his legs. Shelby breathed out a soft sigh and tangled her hands into his hair as he broke their kiss and dragged his lips down the slender column of her neck.
He nipped at her collarbone through her shirt, and she laughed. “Oh, please tell me you have a condom handy.”
“Why?” He scraped his teeth over her peaked nipple. “You think you’re getting lucky tonight, Mrs. Wilde?”
“No, Mr. Wilde.” She walked her fingers down his chest until she found his cock peeking out from the top of his pajama pants. She caught a bead of moisture on her thumb and rubbed it in circles over his tip. “I know I am.”
Wilde at Heart Page 17