“How do you deal with all this bullshit?” he whispered to Ally as they ate the rubber chicken and overcooked vegetables, a working lunch with a pair of congressmen and their assistants. “Talking to all these men and knowing some of them are imagining you naked and on your knees.”
She stared at him, her eyes narrowed.
“Don’t blame the messenger. I’m a man.” He pointed at his chest with the dull knife provided to hack up the rubber chicken. “I see the looks they give you. I know what they’re thinking.”
“Nothing I can’t deal with. I smile a lot.” She demonstrated, making his heart skip a beat. “I wonder how they would appear buck naked and on their knees.”
He flinched and put his fork down. “Oh, man. Now I need to bleach my brain.” He fought to keep from glancing over at the beaming politician, busy nattering to one of the local reporters.
“Exactly.” Ally grinned at him. “Don’t tell me you don’t stare at the ladies like that at times.”
“Never,” he answered, maybe a bit too fast.
“Never?” she repeated. “I find that hard to believe.” Ally smiled, a mischievous smirk that had his blood racing south. “Oh, don’t worry. I do it about you, too, when you’re not looking.”
She picked up the glass of sparkling water and took a sip before turning to the man sitting next to her and striking up a conversation, seemingly oblivious to the chaos she’d sown in Trey’s mind.
…
As she finished off the light talk with the congressional aide Ally pondered how the day had gone so far. Teasing Trey wasn’t part of the plan, but she enjoyed the freedom, the release from having to be always on guard, watching out for Vincent.
It was relaxing, liberating—almost addictive. She said what she wanted to say, sold the business without having to worry about Vincent interrupting with a bawdy joke or some other etiquette fumble.
The most interesting aspect of the situation was their flipped roles. Usually, Vincent played the smart one, and she the thoughtful but quiet aide, popping in with details as seen fit. With Trey taking her normal role, she was now front and center, and she quite enjoyed taking point.
Very much so.
Ally had seen the adoring gazes tossed his way, the women talking behind their hands to each other, wondering who this mystery man was. Add in the lack of a wedding band, and she was sure there’d be more than a few hand-scribbled notes on napkins tucked into his jacket pocket by the end of the day.
She couldn’t pass up the chance to tease Trey. Without the shadow of Vincent hanging over her, she’d managed to present Sheldon Construction in a positive way, setting the stage for future projects. If things worked out, the seeds sown today would bear profitable fruit for the company over time.
A pang of guilt shot through her at the idea of profiting through Vincent’s absence. It didn’t feel right, and yet… It was best for the company and, though she hated to admit it, for her.
She played with the fork and knife on her plate. She didn’t hate Vincent; she couldn’t hate him. He’d been there for her when she’d needed help growing up—she couldn’t ever consider that debt paid off. But when he was around, she was constantly putting out fires, and the past few days, while hectic, had been a welcome change.
Something had to be done when Vincent came back. She put the thought aside for another time, a promise to explore her options.
She just didn’t want the changes to be due to Vincent’s death.
A cold shiver drummed through her veins, dampening the happy feelings from the positive interactions.
She looked at Trey and saw the concern in his eyes, all the humor gone. With a shock, she realized he knew what she’d been thinking, her mental juggling visible to him and him alone.
“He’ll be fine,” he said, reaching over to take her hand. “It sounds silly, but the longer we can’t find him, the more likely he’s alive. Jessie’s got a lock on him, and she’s not going to give up until she has answers for you.”
She didn’t want to argue with his logic. The simple touch of his hand sent her heart racing. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since their frantic coupling in the car.
Yet here they were, talking and flirting like ordinary people.
“It’s more than that.” She sighed, holding back the urge to put her hand on his, interlock their fingers, and keep hold of him forever. “It’s the waiting for an answer. Waiting to find out what’s going on, what the hell he was thinking when he put this company and my livelihood at risk. It burns and burns, digging into me.”
“I understand.”
She looked at him, the breath catching in her throat as she saw it in his eyes.
He did.
She couldn’t answer him because she suspected, she knew it had something to do with Vincent.
She had to find out what.
Trey cleared his throat, breaking the spell. “How long before we can leave without seeming impolite?” he asked.
“Not soon enough. We’ve got a quick clothing change at the hotel and then an evening cocktail party.” She laughed at his scowl. “Don’t worry, we only need to make an appearance for an hour or two. Tuxedo time.”
He chuckled. “Been a long time since I’ve worn a tux.”
“Don’t worry, it’s like riding a bike.” Ally smiled, some of the weight lifting from her heart. “I’m looking forward to seeing you in it.”
…
The ride back to the hotel was quick; the fitting for the fancy clothing needed for the cocktail party, not so much. Trey didn’t have a tuxedo available, and Edgar insisted he wear Vincent’s—there was no use in buying or renting one at this late date.
Trey allowed himself to be talked into it, enjoying the interaction with the veteran.
He stood in the center of the suite, wearing the tuxedo as Edgar growled and huffed at the awkward fit.
Edgar frowned as he tugged at one arm. “I need to call the hotel tailor. We need this adjusted.”
Trey rolled his shoulders, the fabric tight across his back. “I can make this work for a night.” He searched for a way to turn the subject from his physique. “How’s the cover story about Vincent’s food sickness holding up?”
“So far, just fine. No one’s really looking too closely—Vincent might run the company, but he doesn’t have many true friends, and none of them are here. As far as they’re concerned, he’s holed up in his room either sleeping off a massive drinking binge or actually working on this presentation. Either way, it’s working out.”
Trey nodded as Edgar pinched the fabric again. “Vincent’s going to be pissed if you get his clothing resized.”
The older man grumbled. “We can buy a new tux. It’s important for you to make a proper impression. Having you look like a refugee from a frat party isn’t going to help Ally when she’s making her pitches.”
“About Ally…” Trey paused, choosing his words carefully. “Why hasn’t she found a boyfriend?” He put his hand up before Edgar could answer. “I’m curious why she hasn’t got them lined up out the door. She’s smart, sexy, single…”
“She’s had a few.” Edgar pulled the jacket off Trey’s shoulders and put it on a hanger. “Vincent tends to chase them away with his antics. He comes with her, and that’s often too much baggage for most men to consider taking on.” He eyed Trey. “Not to mention it takes a strong man to keep up with Ally.”
Trey chuckled. “I’m seeing that. She’s smart enough to run this company by herself. Why haven’t her parents kicked Vincent to the side? Or at least relegated him to a purely ornamental role—trot him out when they need a man and then stick him in the back with his toys and let Ally run the show.”
“Her parents love and adore her—they wouldn’t trust her with as much as they do if they didn’t have the utmost confidence in her abilities. She’s the daughter they never had. They’re afraid, with good reason, that if they put her up front that some companies will walk away because she’s female.” He held
up a hand, stalling Trey’s response. “Vincent may be a jerk at times, but he’s always had her back. When she proposes something, he more often than not goes with it because it’s sound business and he knows how good she is at this. Splitting them up would be tough. They also believe Vincent will somehow come into his own as a man, mature out of these frat boy games of drinking and gambling.” Edgar grunted. “I don’t think there’s a chance of that happening. Now with this latest complication…” He shook his head. “I can’t say I’m keen on staying with Vincent much longer. A man who steals from his own family isn’t someone I want to work for.”
“What if he’d killed someone?”
Edgar stared, one eyebrow slowly rising. “Killed someone?”
“Yes.” Trey edged out onto the invisible ledge. “What would his family do? What would you think?”
The older man frowned, crossing his arms. “You and I, we know about killing. It’s not something to be taken lightly.”
“I’m asking what you would do if Vincent was personally responsible for a man’s death.”
“I’d like all the details.” His eyes narrowed as he stared at Trey. “All of them.”
“Understood.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll take this to the hotel tailor and have it fixed right away.” He picked up the jacket and opened the door leading to the hallway.
“Edgar.”
He paused and glanced back over his shoulder.
“I’ll tell you if and when I can. I promise.”
“Be sure you know what you’re doing, and have the proof in hand. Because if it’s not solid, the Sheldons will come after you on every level they can. And they’ll destroy you.”
“And if it’s true?” Trey nudged.
Edgar’s expression didn’t change. “It’ll destroy this family. Including Ally. Might want to keep it in mind before you pull the pin and throw that particular grenade.”
The door closed with a click, leaving Trey alone.
Chapter Twenty
She didn’t like these parties, but they were a necessary evil, a chance to see and be seen and to network. There were already other Sheldon Construction employees working the floor, leaders in their own departments, glad-handing prospective clients as well as checking out their competition. Thankfully, they’d come in on their own and stayed in a different hotel, keeping their distance from Vincent and all the problems he brought with him.
People had come all the way from Los Angeles to the event, booking hotel rooms for the overnight stay, which would definitely include a visit to the casino on the ground floor.
Everyone loved Las Vegas.
Ally eyed the bar, grateful she didn’t have to worry about keeping Vincent away from it. The food poisoning story had been accepted by both the staff and the clients they’d come to visit without much questioning. When he came back, Vincent would be able to walk right back into the business world with a smile and a wink.
Only a man could do that.
She sipped her club soda. There was no way she’d be able to pull it off—have such a blatant vice or glaring flaw in her character.
The thought tamped down the last vestiges of her enjoyment of the event, her smile now feeling painfully forced.
She’d have to do the upcoming presentation. There were less than two weeks left before the meeting. That’s all there was to it.
She suppressed the thrill of anticipation building inside her. Mentally she ran through the research, making notes on what she’d have to brush up on. There’d have to be slight changes to the PowerPoint and the handouts, nothing that she couldn’t deal with…
“Hey.” Trey had appeared at her elbow.
She jumped, her drink sloshing around in her glass.
“Sorry,” he said. “I tend to cause that reaction in people.”
“Damn it.” She put a hand to her neck, the vein throbbing under her fingers. “You’re going to give someone a heart attack.” She looked around, trying to figure out how he’d crossed the floor and gotten to her without being seen. “How did you do that?”
“Practice. Lots of practice. How’s the mingling going?”
She sipped the club soda. “Excellent. I’m hearing the incident with Capprelli sent some lovely ripples out into the field. The unions are happy we’re watching out for their members, the investors are happy we’re keeping the sites safe and free from slowdowns due to accidents, and it’s all working out well for us. Losing money due to accidents doesn’t win anyone anything, despite what men like Capprelli want to believe. Faster isn’t always better.” She eyed him, pleased with what she saw.
Some men appeared awkward in a tuxedo, no matter who they were. They might be born to high society and tucked into a business suit almost from birth yet still always seem uncomfortable, out of sorts no matter how expensive the tuxedo or how skilled the tailor.
Trey had none of that.
He looked, God help her, like he was born to fit into almost any situation. Comfortable no matter where he was, blending into the background like the legendary ninjas of old.
He’d slipped easily into the construction site atmosphere, not flinching at the dust and dirt while making his way around the bare bones of her world.
The meetings with the local politicians had gone well thanks to his ability to relate to both the men and women. He complimented the ladies without going too far and kept up with the men talking sports.
Now here, with men who made ten times what he did at the Devil’s Playground, he held his own and then some. She’d seen him bring smiles to their faces, breaking through the stoic glares most executives wore at these events.
She saw the women eying him, wondering if they could entice him into their beds.
Mine.
The hot flash of desire coiled in her belly, the urge to take his arm and mark him as her own almost overwhelming.
Trey tapped the bow tie. “Can’t believe people wear this all the time. It’s choking me.” He hooked a finger under it and tugged. “Made it as loose as I could, but it’s still annoying as hell.”
“Don’t worry, we won’t be here much longer.” She waved at someone across the room, pulling their name and information out of the invisible file cabinet in her mind. “I’ve done the networking. At this point, I’m here more for appearances.”
“And me?”
“You’re here to make me look good,” she quipped. “According to Edgar, you’ve initiated quite the rumor mill. It’s helped keep people from speculating on Vincent’s illness. People can’t figure out if you’re private security here to protect me from some invisible danger, or a wily associate coming out of the blue to challenge Vincent. Or a new player, a businessman about to make a move to take over the company.”
“Which is why you wanted me instead of any of your other personnel. I can disappear at the end of all this, and it won’t cause too many internal waves.” Trey studied his drink. “Excellent decision.”
“I like to think so.” She smiled at him. “But I don’t want you pulling a disappearing act just yet.”
He returned the look with interest, fanning the flames in her heart.
There was no doubting there was a connection between them. She looked forward to figuring it out in the future, when things calmed down and she could focus on herself and her needs, her desires.
“What’s going on inside that lovely mind of yours?” he asked.
“A lot of things.” She reached out and touched his bow tie, setting it straight. “Don’t worry, you’ll be free of this soon. A few more minutes and…”
Her purse vibrated, the phone going off.
They both froze at the sound.
She pulled it free, her hands trembling.
“It’s Jessie.”
Trey moved in front of her, shielding her from the others. He took her glass and placed it on a nearby shelf.
“Do you want me to take it?”
“No.” She touched the screen and put the phone to her ear, fo
rcing herself to stay still. “Hello?”
There was no greeting, no platitudes.
“I’ve got Vincent. He’s alive and in my custody.”
“What? What did you say?”
Trey stepped into her personal space. He stayed there, putting his hand on her forearm, anchoring her as the world shifted then snapped back into focus with a hard, almost audible crash.
She pulled the phone away, letting him listen.
“I found him here in Reno. He’s drunk, belligerent, and pissed off.”
A wave of dizziness swept over her, relief mixed with a trace of regret.
Trey increased his grip on her arm.
“Steady,” he murmured. “Steady.”
She forced herself to stay still. “How is he? Are you okay? Do you need any help? What can I do?”
The sharp laugh startled her. “I’ll answer your questions in sequence—first, he’s physically fine, though I can’t vouch for the health of his liver. Second, I’m fine, thank you for asking. Last, stay where you are. I’ll bring him to you tomorrow morning, right up to the hotel room.”
“Tomorrow morning?” She squinted at the window, judging the sun’s position. “Why can’t you bring him back tonight?”
“Circumstances. It’s also a seven-hour drive back. I’ll see you in the morning, bright and early. He’s doing well, even though he’s got a hell of a lot of booze to flush out of his system. We’ll begin tonight, but warn his handler to be ready for a long, hot shower and detox to get him back to looking human again. You’ll have him in time for the big meeting.”
“Thank you.” She felt the tension ebb out of her body, replaced with bone-shattering exhaustion.
“No problem,” Jessie replied. “This is what you hired me for. Glad I could find him alive and in one piece.”
“How much…” She cleared her throat, pushing herself back to the professional businesswoman. “How much money does he have on him?”
“Less than half of the credit card advance left. And that’s only because I convinced the guy running the poker game to let me take his share out of the pot. I’ll explain when I see you in the morning. ’Night.” The line went dead.
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