I stepped closer to him and slapped his arm. "Seriously! No one knows how the female brain works better than an actual female."
"So, if you want to ruin a guy, you just pay another girl to do it?"
"I wouldn't say that exactly, but there are different levels of craziness in girls. We're all a little bit crazy. There's your low-key, doormat kind, and the kind who take no shit but do it nicely." I pointed my thumb to myself. "That's me." He grinned. "Then there are your total crazies. Those are the ones who will pay other girls to get revenge, kill their husbands, stuff like that."
He looked at me dazed. "Wow, remind me to never piss you off." He pinned a few more pictures on the board. "But I'll look into it and see if he has some total crazy mistresses."
I squinted my eyes at him. "Will you really, or are you just saying that to appease me?"
"I'll look into it for you," he answered, tapping me on the tip of my nose; he thought I was wrong. Hell, I was probably wrong, but it was something more than he had to go on. All he had was a board filled with balding men who didn’t know how to smile and hated John. I was certain there was an entire club with a waiting list of people who wanted to see his demise.
"Watch me be right," I said smugly and skipped back to my chair. "Let’s make a wager. If it's a girl, you give me a hundred dollars. If it's a guy, I'll give you fifty."
His baby-blues flashed over to me and he chuckled. "What? How is that even fair?"
"It's plenty fair. You're a trust-fund baby, and I only get a small allowance that usually goes toward my shoe addiction."
He laughed and shook his head. "How about if you win, I'll take you out to dinner?"
"Eh, I think I'd rather have the cash money.”
He laughed again. "What if you win, I'll take you out to dinner. If I win, I'll still take you out to dinner."
"That doesn't seem like a very fair bet."
"Neither was yours," he pointed out.
I blew a bubble with my gum, and it popped as I sucked it back in. "Fine, you’ve got a deal."
Six hours.
We'd been brainstorming for six hours and had nothing. Asher had just reported in, informing us he was having trouble breaking into the bank's system to the offshore account but was getting closer. He was also checking out the security cameras to Ivy's place to see everyone who’d visited her.
"My brain is tired," I groaned. "This place is sucking my will to live," I added, yawning and looking over at him from my makeshift couch. I'd shoved his two chairs together and settled down across them hours ago to make myself more comfortable while Dalton continued to pin pictures and documents onto the board. He’d pin then pace in front of them as he mumbled questions to himself.
He glanced down at his watch. "Shit, it's after two. Does the princess need her beauty sleep?" He yawned and shook his head. My eyes roamed over him. He'd taken off his suit jacket and tie, along with unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt. His shoes were thrown across the room with his black socks hanging loose on his feet.
I nodded. "Yes, she does. If I get anything less than eight hours of sleep, I get delusional." My lips twitched into a smile. "Oh, I'm also letting you know in advance that I'll be late in the morning." I'd stayed way after hours, so it shouldn’t have been a problem if I came in around lunchtime.
He tossed the rest of the documents onto his desk and took a few long strides my way. "Nice try, babe, but you can't come in late."
I eyed him standing above me. "Did you not just hear what I said about me and lack of sleep? I start hallucinating and might say something I probably shouldn't. You told me I needed to keep my comments to myself, and I'm definitely positive I can do that while snoozing in my bed."
He yawned again and held his hand out. "Come on, sleepyhead. I'll take you home, and you better be on time tomorrow."
My leg darted out, kicking one of the chairs away from me, and I grabbed onto his hand to hoist myself up. "I rode with Asher, so I'll just go get him."
He fished a set of keys from his pocket. "I'm not going to make him quit working; I'll take you home. I don't know how long he's going to be working tonight."
"Ay, ay, captain." I gave him a salute with my hand, grabbed my heels I'd kicked off earlier and purse in both of my hands before noticing my bare feet. “Great. I look like I’m doing the walk of shame out of your office,” I commented, strolling into the dark, empty lobby.
I yelped as Dalton's hands grabbed my waist, and he lifted me into his arms to carry me into the elevator. "We can't let that happen, can we, beautiful?"
I gripped his lean arm and peered up at him. "I highly doubt this looks any better."
"True, but at least you're not getting all that gross shit all over these little piglet feet," he muttered, tickling my toes, and I giggled.
"Hey, asshole, I have adorable feet," I laughed, smacking his shoulder and squirming in his arms.
"You mean Flintstone feet? I might let you kick your way home in the car." I giggled again, and he wrapped his arm around my ankle. "What's this?" he asked, looking at the bottom of my foot.
"Oh, that's my birthmark." My mom and I both had these hideous brown birthmarks on the bottom of our right feet.
"Weird place for a birthmark," he said, running his finger over it.
"I don't really think there's a normal place for a birthmark," I remarked, and the elevator doors opened. We walked through the dark lobby and out into the parking garage. He dropped me into the passenger seat when we reached his car and leaned across my body to buckle me in. Running around the front, he got into the driver's side and started the engine. My eyes began to shutter as he took off, and I watched the reflection of streetlights go in and out of my view.
"Hey, sleepyhead." A soft voice whispered into my ear, and my eyes flashed open to find Dalton perched down on the ground beside me, the passenger-side door swung open.
"Did I fall asleep?" I asked, stretching my arms out and yawning. I hadn't realized I was that tired.
He smiled, unbuckling my seatbelt. "Sure did." He grabbed me in his arms again and lifted me out of the seat. "Where's your house key?" he whispered, and I opened my bag hanging limply off my arm, pulling the large keychain from the side pocket. His hold stayed on me as he opened my front door and slowly walked up our tall flight of stairs.
"Which one is yours?" I pointed to my bedroom door, and he turned on the light before depositing me into my bed. "Goodnight, gorgeous," he whispered, tucking me in with my blankets and kissing the top of my forehead.
"Goodnight," I murmured, and my eyelids fell back down, unable to hold them up any longer.
Cold air smacked into my body as my warm comforter was ripped away from me. "Good morning sunshine!"
Someone was about to die.
"What the hell are you doing in my room?" I screeched, leaning forward and snatching my blanket from his grip before tugging it back over my shivering body.
"Why is Asher under the assumption I gave you permission to come in late today?" Dalton asked, raising a brow.
I snuggled back into the comfort of my bed and rested my head on my pillow. "Because I told him that. I figured being sick of being there was a valid reason for a sick day, or at least a delayed day."
"I see." I peeked up from my pillow to find a devious grin on his face. My mouth flew open when I noticed the glass of water grasped firmly in one hand.
"You do it, you die," I threatened. "I know where Kenneth hides the guns." I didn’t, but he didn’t know that.
He crept closer. "Get up, Gabby."
I kicked my feet against my mattress. "Fine. I'm getting up, just get out."
"Nu uh, your tricky ass will lock me out or something." He tipped the glass forward, and I watched the water hit the rim. "Damn, is this what it would’ve been like in the morning if you didn't sneak out of my bed in the middle of the night? You sure are cranky in the morning.”
My eyes glared daggers his way. "I have one nerve left, and you're seriously dry-humping
it. Go away, and I'll be there in a few hours." I nestled back into my pillow when a splash of water smacked me straight in the forehead causing my entire body to shoot forward.
"That's only a preview of what's to come if you don't get your ass up," he promised, moving the glass around in circles over my face, taunting me.
I threw the blanket back off my body and lunged out of bed. Standing up, I let out a long, tortured sigh. "I'm up, you happy? Now I'm getting in the shower."
I swung around to go to my bathroom, but he grabbed my arm, twisting me around to stop me. Dalton’s tongue darted out, licking his lips as his eyes traveled down my body. "On second thought, you can stay in bed,” he said, noticing the tiny boy shorts and tank top I'd changed into in the middle of the night.
I broke free of his hold. "It's not like you've never seen a half-naked girl before," I snapped, crossing my arms across my bra-less chest.
He smirked at my reaction. "True, but damn, baby, you're seriously sexy as hell. I think we both could use a sick day." My body loosened as his burning fingertips brushed down my side, leaving my body tingling, and I felt the growing arousal seeping through. A whimper left my throat, and he grinned at my response to him before leaning closer. I immediately came to my senses, snapping out of my trance and pushing him away.
"Not happening, homeboy," I said, holding my arms out, and he stumbled back. "I'll be out in a minute." I swerved around on one foot, walked into my bathroom and slammed the door shut. Turning the hot lever over on my shower, I stripped down and stepped into the steaming water at the same time I heard the door creak open.
“Get out of here!” I screeched, realizing I’d stupidly forgotten to lock the door.
"Don't take too long!" He shouted as warm water poured down my body. Shit, he knew my plan. "You've got fifteen minutes, or I'm coming in there and joining you."
I stomped my foot against the shower floor and lathered shampoo into my hair. "Don't you have any poor girls to blackmail?"
He laughed. "Fifteen minutes, baby." There was no way I'd be ready in fifteen minutes. It took me fifteen minutes just to wash my hair.
Forty-five minutes later, I walked back into my bedroom to find Dalton lounging on my bed with my laptop open on his lap. "Intrusive much?" I grumbled, reminding myself to put a password lock on that thing.
"Just looking at your pictures," he answered, studying the screen. "These ones from spring break are pretty hot. Who knew you were such a wild thing, Ms. Body Shots."
I stalked across the room and slammed my computer shut. "I'm a freaking saint compared to you."
A wicked grin spread over his lips. "Oh, really?"
"Yes, really."
He jumped off the bed and grabbed a cardboard cup sitting on my nightstand. "Babe, you definitely were far from a saint in my bedroom that night. Your moaning, your reaction to my cock inside you and the way you kissed me, that was far from a damn saint.” My face flushed, warmth covering my cheeks. “But don’t worry, I fucking loved it. I loved how bad you wanted me. I almost got off to you begging me.” He held the cup out to me, and I wanted to throw it in his face.
"I never begged," I bit back, embarrassed because I was lying.
He inched the cup further my way, and I grabbed it. "I went and got you some breakfast while you were primping," he said, choosing not to argue with me. "I knew it would take you longer than fifteen minutes." A bagel then came my way.
"How did you know these are my favorite?" I asked, noticing my bagel was covered with peanut butter and banana slices. I got it every morning before work at one of my favorite coffee houses.
He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm a mind reader."
I took a bite and eyed him suspiciously. “You stalking me now, Douglas?”
"Fine, Asher told me."
We'd just gotten back to the office when Asher came rushing in. "It's the wife."
"What?" Gabby and I both asked at the same time.
"Gentry, his wife is the one who paid Ivy to talk," he answered, and my stomach churned. If he was right, I was going to have a lot more work on my hands and things were about to get really fucking complicated.
Gabby jumped up from her chair and pointed a finger at me. "I told you it was a woman!" She did a victory dance and hugged Asher. Yeah, I definitely shouldn't have given that girl coffee.
"You know this for sure?" I asked. I had to be positive before I could accuse my client's wife of betraying her husband. Normally in these types of situations, the wives wanted to cover that shit, not expose it.
Asher nodded. "I'm positive. I finally got into the security cameras and did a facial recognition on everyone who visited her. It's absolutely the wife." His eyes moved from me to Gabby, and his lips formed a thin line. He'd gotten pissed when I told him I was going to get her this morning; insisting he needed to do that, but I wasn't having it.
"She was probably there to tell Ivy to stay away from her husband," I explained, skeptical. “There’s a lot on the line for them right now. If there’s word of an affair, it could ruin their entire careers. She probably had her mind on being in the White House, and Ivy was fucking that up for her.”
Asher slid his hands into his pants pockets. "I thought that might be the case, but I had a hunch there was something more. I always do my research. I did some digging, and the clues are pointing straight to her for whose account the money was transferred from."
Gabby laughed, holding her hand in front of her mouth. "His wife's Celine Dion. I guess she's kicking that asshole to the curb and telling him her heart will go on."
I shot her a look, and she shut her mouth but didn’t fail to manage an eye roll my way. “How could she have that kind of money to give out without John’s knowledge?” I questioned.
"Her family founded La Viva Vodka; she’s like the vodka heiress of the world or some shit,” he answered, his eyes failing to look directly at me. Damn, he needed to get that stick out of his ass.
"Hell hath no fury like that of a woman scorned," Gabby added, not being able to keep her comments to herself. "She's pissed she's married to some cheating asshat and now wants payback." She loved this newfound information a bit too much.
"Gentry's fucked," Asher added. And so was I if I didn't get this situation taken care of immediately. "I'll let you know if I get anything else." He turned around to leave, kissing Gabby on the cheek without saying another word to me.
"He's in a bad mood today," I grumbled. Asher was usually always one of those people who saw the best in everything. The only other time I'd seen him in a bad mood was when his dad told his mom he wanted a divorce. I remembered he came over afterwards with bloody knuckles from punching my uncle in the nose and breaking it.
Gabby ignored what I said and grinned brightly while doing a happy dance. "I seriously love being right!"
I chuckled. I'd just found out terrible, mind-fucking news, but she still somehow managed to make me smile. "Calm down there, Sherlock Holmes. Just because we maybe solved who the person was who paid her doesn't mean our work here is done."
Her feet halted, and she frowned. "Seriously? Everyone he was trying to hide it from already knows. The media, check. His wife, check. His kids, most likely check. Why does he even need us anymore? His cover is blown, and the affair is public. He probably needs to save all the money he can for when his wife takes everything he owns in the divorce.”
I rose up from my chair. "We have to make everyone believe her accusations are untrue."
She stuck her palm out. "I'm sorry, but you can just look at that creep and know it's true. He just looks like a snake who sticks his penis into any woman who breathes.”
"Babe, our job isn't to judge them; it's to fix their problems."
She laughed. "It seems Gentry has a problem keeping it in his pants; maybe we should recommend fixing that by castration. That would sure help everyone dealing with his problems.”
I shook my head, trying to fight my grin. "Come on, killer, and remind me to hide all the knives
when we're around Gentry next time."
"Are you going to tell him his wife is the one who has it out for him? If you do, can I please be there to witness that, because I would love to see his face. Or better yet, maybe we shouldn't tell him anything and let him figure it out himself when she burns his ass.” She was rambling. “That would make a great movie! Kinda like Sleeping with the Enemy." She giggled and skipped down the hallway.
"We aren't telling him anything yet," I replied, pulling her into the elevator by her hand.
"You suck. Just when I think this job is getting fun, you have to go and ruin it, fun-sucker. So, what do we do now?"
"We talk to his wife."
She shrugged her shoulders. "Fine with me. I already like this lady."
I pulled in front of a massive security gate, and I leaned halfway out of my car window to press the speaker button. "Hello, we're here from Douglas PR. We'd like to talk to Mrs. Gentry," I shouted into the box and noticed the tiny camera at the top. I wasn't sure if she'd allow us access, but I was hoping I wouldn't have to resort to climbing over the gate and sneaking into her house. Yeah, I was that desperate.
The gate slowly opened, and a rush of air escaped from my chest. Gabby rolled up her window and pushed her hair away from her face. "This place is seriously creepy," she said. We drove down a long drive lined with large trees to each side of us. I circled around the wide driveway, stopping in front of a large, stone house that resembled a castle from a fairy tale book. A large fountain was placed in the middle of the driveway with the water dripping from a massive concrete lion’s head. A group of gardeners were hard at work, and the stench of mulch wafted through the air as they dragged flowers out of their vans. "Yeah, definitely a creepy murder movie."
We both stepped out of the car and trudged up the steep, concrete steps that led to the ten-foot wooden door. “I’ve been expecting you,” an older woman greeted, standing in the doorway waiting for us. Her dark, greying hair stopped at the end of her ear lobes as she stood up straight in her blue skirt suit. Rows of pearls were draped around her neck and hanging from her ear lobes; the vodka heiress dripped in pearls.
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