Lies

by Aleatha Romig

  The spectacular sight of her tits bouncing above me was second only to the greatest possible friction that brought us both to climax. Once she was relaxed, I rolled her over and her golden locks became a halo behind her beautiful face and wide, velvety eyes.

  Through the years, I’d searched those eyes in photos and videos. It astonished me that now they were here—that she was here. Last night, she’d come to bed in a long, sexy blue satin nightgown with thin straps that went over her slender shoulders and crisscrossed in the back. While the gown reached the floor, on each side were slits that revealed she wore nothing underneath.

  Needless to say, the nightgown didn’t last long. It was currently somewhere on the floor, where it landed after I’d moved the straps and watched the material slide from her body.

  Though I’d been told since I was thirteen that Araneae belonged to me, nothing could have prepared me for what it was like to have her in my life. She was all I ever wanted and more: intelligent, motivated, resilient, sexy, sensual, sassy, opinionated, and outspoken. Being with her was what I’d never known was possible. Granted, my examples of relationships were pretty fucked up. In that department, Reid and Lorna were the best representation of what it should be. Maybe in some way being a part of their lives opened a door to the idea that a relationship was possible.

  It was no wonder when I fought Reid for wanting to bring Lorna into our lives that he didn’t back down.

  Knowing that Araneae belonged to me and enjoying having her with me were not synonymous. I now understood why Reid wouldn’t and didn’t give up. I couldn’t and wouldn’t leave Araneae or allow her to leave no matter who demanded it.

  Up until a moment ago, her warm, sexy body had been curled against my side, her soft breath blowing against my skin. It wasn’t until I moved that she did too.

  Though my dick was ready for another round, it was too early in the morning to wake her.

  Sleeping had never been my thing, but with her in my bed, I wished I could convince myself to stay by her side for another hour or two. Leaving her was one of the hardest things I’d done, whether I left her in bed or knowing she was out in the city.

  Thankfully, according to Patrick, there had been no new threats, not on her physically.

  And to make it better, Jana was working out well.

  While Jana may not have been my first choice for Araneae’s personal assistant, Patrick made a convincing case. Since I trusted him with Araneae, it only made sense to trust him with that decision too.

  Reid was also on the job watching over my woman. In the process, he’d discovered a few attempts of cyber infiltration into Kennedy Hawkins and Sinful Threads. It wasn’t possible to look into Araneae McCrie—officially she didn’t exist any longer. She’d died at birth. He’d recently mentioned a trail he was following regarding Franco Francesca. We weren’t jumping to conclusions, yet in my opinion that man was on borrowed time.

  Beefing up the security at Sinful Threads had been a no-brainer. Araneae may not appreciate my making decisions when it came to her company, but there were some aspects of their incorporation that she and Louisa had overlooked for too long.

  From my observations, both Araneae and Louisa were fantastic with merchandise. Their quality was the best. Managing the day-to-day operations as well as creative decisions was their thing. I couldn’t come close to imagining the things they created. What I could do was ensure the safety of their data.

  We had eyes on McFadden.

  I didn’t trust him with anything, nor could I accurately predict his thinking. It seemed to me that the longer Araneae was with me, her presence known, without her going after McFadden, the better it was for her.

  Or that may be wishful thinking.

  If I were in McFadden’s shoes, I’d say there were two possible options. One, he could believe that Araneae didn’t possess the secrets to her father’s evidence and that the rumors from years ago were inaccurate. Or, two, he could think that she was sitting on the evidence and still a threat to his future.

  The second option was why I refused to let her out of my or Patrick’s sight.

  Other than work, I’d kept her here, in my apartment. Though she hadn’t complained, I knew it was time to get her out. A beautiful, vivacious woman like her didn’t deserve to be held prisoner between work and home.

  The reality that came with exposing her to the public with me meant that the rumors from last week at the club would be confirmed. There would be more sightings.

  Since she’d told me more than once to stop making unilateral decisions, that probably meant I should ask her if she was ready to be seen with me again in Chicago.

  What were the words she said I should use?

  Will?

  Would?

  It was probably evident that the asking process was new for me. It wasn’t an area where I particularly excelled. Yet I’d told her that I would make an effort—and for her, I would.

  Slipping out of bed, I stepped into the closet and eased into a pair of sweat pants and pulled a t-shirt over my head. With a rake of my hair with my fingers, I was ready to go down to two—the heart of our operation. At only four in the morning, I never knew for sure who would be present.

  When it came to sleep, Reid and Patrick shared my insomnia.

  Perhaps it was because of the things we’d seen and done. Those thoughts could be compartmentalized while awake. While sleeping...that was another story.

  Locking the bedroom door, I made my way through the darkened apartment. With the key to the bedroom in my pocket, I recalled how Araneae had locked the same door prior to her bath a few nights ago. When the knob didn’t move, a bit of my displeasure—caused by her disobeying my order to stay in the room—lessened. By locking the door, she’d done as I’d said, securing that no one saw her sexy, naked body but me—ever.

  Reaching the bottom of the stairs, there was no need to turn on the lights to navigate my dwelling. My life was formed in the dark. It was where I thrived.

  The panel by the elevator flashed as my palm contacted the surface. A short elevator ride and one more panel outside the metal door and that door slid open. The room before me was filled with light.

  “Patrick, why the hell are you awake?”

  “I could ask you the same thing, Sparrow. At least you and Reid have someone in your beds to keep you there.”

  “If I work now, I’m able to spend more time with her when she’s awake.” I tilted my head up at the screens. “What’s going on?”

  Patrick shook his head as his fingers tapped on the keyboard. We weren’t as phenomenal as Reid, but all three of us had skill.

  “I woke up with a thought,” he said, “one we haven’t explored. At least I don’t think we have. Since Walsh still hasn’t resurfaced since Wichita and Reid can’t find evidence of his untimely demise, I began thinking about the Marshes and how they disappeared off the radar. We’ve talked witness protection, yet we can’t find anything to support that either.”

  “I’m not sure I’m following,” I said, pulling out a chair, spinning it, and straddling the back.

  “When Araneae’s plane made the emergency landing in Wichita, we were so focused on her and on Walsh’s connection to McFadden, I never took the time to learn exactly why the plane was stopped.”

  “She told us. A passenger ostensibly had an issue.”

  “I think it’s more.” Patrick pointed to the screen with a quick lift of his chin. “This was the man who had the incident that required the stop. This is from the Wichita airport security cameras. He doesn’t appear ill. The airline is required to report the cause of an unplanned landing and they stated illness. What they didn’t report was that this man is an air marshal.”

  “He’s a fed?”

  Patrick nodded.

  My mind started clicking like a damn puzzle, the pieces falling into place. “We blamed McFadden but how would he have known that Kennedy was Araneae that fast?” I stood quickly, the chair rolling as I began to pace. “He wo
uldn’t have,” I said, answering my own question. “Fuck. He’d just sat with her for dinner at the damn Sinful Threads event. Our plan was to get her out of Chicago before he heard the rumors that she’d been sighted.”

  My fingers fisted and unfisted. “I’ve been beating myself up that we screwed up.”

  “But if it wasn’t him that stopped that plane...” Patrick said, allowing his sentence to trail away.

  His words sank in.

  “What if we did get her out before he knew?” he asked. “What if someone else was watching her or watching for her?”

  Fucking feds stopped that plane for a reason.

  Why not let her get back to Boulder?

  Because if they got wind of her being with me, they would expect me to have reinforcements in Boulder. Stopping the plane was their best option.

  “Find out if Walsh was a plant.” I said. “Could it fucking be possible that he’s a fed infiltrating McFadden’s inner circle and he’d been there for over a year?” The idea gave me hope. I wanted to stand back and watch the flames as McFadden and his illegal activities were brought into the light—leaving his presidential ambition in ashes.

  In my mind, I’d been the one to do it—to bring him down.

  I imagined that I’d have been the one who found Araneae, made sure she was safe, and then exposed the evidence she was supposed to have. The rumors had been whispered between the old guard of my father’s capos. I’d heard them since before I could remember. At first their murmurings meant nothing...until that one day when I saw her picture. The day my father said she was mine. After that, I listened. I eavesdropped. I even snuck into his office and snooped.

  It was my first hacking job.

  It got my ass kicked more than once, but I didn’t give up.

  There wasn’t an altruistic bone in my father’s body. Allister Sparrow was a selfish bastard: women, money, and power were his motivators. He believed that Araneae possessed—or had the means to possess—whatever McCrie knew. It seemed as though my father believed that uncovering that information would rid him of McFadden for once and for all.

  That was why the McFaddens were the danger.

  Why then had Josey Marsh warned Araneae against us?

  I didn’t know the answer. I had believed the lies too, until now.

  Araneae knew nothing of her biological family.

  My father had been fed a lie, the same lie as McFadden. He’d fed it to me.

  “Sparrow,” Patrick said, pulling me from my cyclone of thoughts, “Walsh is a fucking long shot with even further-reaching repercussions if it’s true.”

  “Have Reid do a triple check on everyone in Sparrow. The feds want to infiltrate McFadden, great. Fucker’s a senator with dirty hands. Make sure everyone in Sparrow is legitimate. Any question, any doubt, get rid of them. There’s no way we’re going down or Sparrow Enterprises is going down in some FBI raid.”

  Araneae

  “Is it safe?” That was my answer on Sunday afternoon while Sterling and I were in his office, when he asked if I wanted to go out to dinner—out of the apartment.

  “Sunshine, I wouldn’t ask you if it weren’t.”

  My cheeks rose. “You did ask.”

  His finger landed on my nose. “So observant. I did.”

  I’d been answering emails for Sinful Threads at the table while Sterling had been at his desk doing whatever he did. Now he was standing right in front of me, and focusing on the screen of my laptop was no longer my priority.

  I stood to meet him. “Then does that mean I can say no?”

  “You can say whatever you want. I thought you might want to get out of here.”

  My lips came together as I thought about his proposal.

  Over the last week, I tried not to give it much thought. Each day, I left the apartment to go to Sinful Threads. While there, I came and went as I pleased and saw fit, with one stipulation: Patrick was at my side. I reminded myself of what happened upon our return from Canada.

  The poisoning affected me mentally as well as physically. While a bit of claustrophobia was setting in, there was also a sense of safety behind the infrared protection of Sterling’s apartment. Having Lorna, Reid, and Patrick nearby provided an occasion for camaraderie. At the office, I had Patrick and Jana. Daily, I spoke with Louisa and Winnie. Somehow, I’d accepted this new life, and yet when faced with the opportunity to go out and see more of the world than my office, warehouse, distribution center, or Port of Chicago, I couldn’t quell my anticipation.

  There was a world out there. I wanted to reenter it.

  “Is this like a date—like our first one?” I asked.

  Sterling’s gaze simmered as he reached for my waist and pulled me toward him. The connection was no longer foreign as our hips came together. “Tell me, Araneae...” His deep voice reverberated from him to me. “... do you fuck on a first date?”

  I tried to swallow, yet my mouth was suddenly dry. Shaking my head, I replied, “No, never.”

  What the hell did that sound like?

  Sterling and I hadn’t been on a date and nevertheless, we’d made love, fucked, or whatever I wanted to call it so many times that I’d lost count.

  His large hand lowered to my behind, his fingers splaying as he pulled me tighter against him. “How about before a first date?”

  Warmth filled my cheeks. “Not as a rule.”

  His eyes widened. “Tell me how many times you’ve broken this self-proclaimed rule.”

  There was something in his tone, the darkening of his gaze, and the pressure of his body against mine that tightened the muscles of my core in an inappropriate way. “Why?” I asked, my chin rising to keep his gaze. “That information is shared on a need-to-know basis, and I don’t believe you, Sterling, need to know.”

  “That’s where you’re mistaken. I need to know because remember you’re mine, and as mine, I am entitled to know everything about you.”

  “You’re saying that this information wasn’t something that came up in all of your spying?”

  His hand swatted my ass.

  “Hey,” I yelped.

  “Answer my question.”

  “What if I said that the rule has been broken many times?”

  “Then before our first date, I’d have to spank your ass more than one slap because even self-imposed rules are rules. And it’s my job to make sure you learn to follow them.”

  I lifted my hands to his shoulders. “What if I also told you that those many times were with the same man?”

  “Are you telling the truth or trying to save your ass?”

  “Both,” I said with a grin. “The same man, many times, most of them great. He can be a real asshole sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to go on a first date with him.”

  “Most of them?”

  “Yeah, when he’s not being that asshole.”

  “Would you consider breaking the after-first-date fucking rule?” he asked.

  One shoulder moved up, then down. “I don’t know. Will that get me another great orgasm or will it get me punished for breaking a rule?”

  “Those aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive.”

  “Then I guess it depends on how the date goes,” I answered noncommittally.

  His lips brushed mine. “Seven o’clock. Be ready. I will officially pick you up for our first date at the front door.”

  “Front door? Won’t we leave through the secret elevator?”

  “Sunshine, don’t ask questions. Tonight is our first official date. You and the date are in my hands. You’re about to learn what it’s like to be wined and dined by Sterling Sparrow.”

  My cheeks rose. “How formal?”

  He tilted his head. “That’s a question.”

  “Yes, but I need to know.”

  “What you need to know is to wear that fucking fantastic Sinful Threads dress you had on the first night in the distribution center. No bra. I want to watch your nipples turn hard, knowing that this time when I get you ho
me, I’ll be the one to peel that silk from your sexy body and enjoy everything underneath.”

  His words tightened my core. “Sterling...”

  “Also, if you’re wondering,” he continued, “no panties unless after dinner you want to start with that spanking. I saw how pink your cheeks turned when I mentioned it.”

  My nose scrunched. “That’s kind of...” I searched for the right words. “...uncomfortable.”

  “The spanking? Yes, it’s meant to be.”

  “No, the panty thing. It makes me self-conscious.”

  His lips quirked. “I don’t usually suggest this on a first date, but since we’ve broken your fucking rule, I’ll give you another option.”

  Tilting my head, I watched his eyes, uncertain if this were a good thing or not. “What kind of option?”

  “An option is when someone has the choice between two things.”

  “Stop being an asshole. I know the definition of an option. What choices are you proposing?”

  “Number one: what I already said, Sinful Threads dress, no bra, no panties, thigh-high stockings—those are fucking sexy—and some great fuck-me heels.”

  I took a deep breath. “Or?”

  “Number two: same attire, but to keep your mind off the lack of panties, before we leave, I insert a custom-constructed vibrator into your tight pussy.”

  “What—?”

  His finger touched my lips. “What did I say about questions? Option number two was self-explanatory: vibrator in your pussy. It has a specially designed lip that also tantalizes your clit and multiple speeds.”

  This man was crazy—certifiable.

  My mouth opened yet nothing came out.

  His finger gently pushed on my chin, closing my mouth. “Your job, sunshine...” He spoke near my ear, his warm breath on my sensitive skin as his deep voice thundered through me. “...is that throughout our date you’ll hold it tight and keep it in place because if it starts to slip, I’ll be the one to put it back and while I won’t let anyone see, they’ll all know what I’m doing.”

  “You...want...wait...no...” I couldn’t construct a sentence. There was no comeback for what he was suggesting.