Forbidden Fix (Executive Toy Book 6)

by Cleo Peitsche

  “Lindsay,” he whispers, and there’s something else in his expression, something I can’t put my finger on. His fingers brush strands of blonde hair away from my face.

  Then he kisses me.

  It’s one of his gentle kisses, sweet and probing. Oh, it’s quite at odds with what he did—and is doing—to my body, but it’s sincere.

  He drops a hand to my stomach. As his fingers skim down, I stop fighting him.

  “That’s a much better way to ask for what you want,” he says as my hips, desperate for his touch, pulse toward him.

  His other hand cups the side of my face and under my jaw, and he kisses me again. I can’t help but give myself to him.

  “Baby, like that,” he whispers. He pulls back, and there’s something in his gaze… I can’t look away. I’m drawn in, hypnotized.

  His cock throbs in my ass, or maybe my ass is throbbing around him. It’s difficult to know at this point.

  He smiles and begins to slowly pump his hips again. I feel my brow tightening in pain, but it’s a good kind of pain. The circles he’s rubbing over my pussy have a lot to do with that.

  “I love you, you know—” His mouth captures mine at the same time that his fingers home in on my clit.

  The timing… The orgasm he gives me feels like it’s tearing me apart. I can’t separate what he said from the bliss rocketing through me, bouncing around, filling me, driving me to pieces, pulling me together.

  He loves me—

  He hurts me—

  He loves to hurt me, makes me feel so good, knows just what I want and isn’t afraid to give me what I need.

  —And, oh god, I need this, need him, love and want him and want to always be with him.

  I fly into a trillion tiny pieces, and when I come back to myself, Hawthorne’s mouth is on mine, drinking my moans straight from my throat.

  I don’t even realize that he’s orgasmed, too, not until I feel that his cock is softening inside my ass.

  My eyes closed at some point, and I blink them open as Hawthorne pushes one arm against the desk and leans up. His eyes meet mine.

  I wonder if he meant it. If he even knows what he said.

  His smile is cruel and touched with a trace of sadness.

  “I know what I said, and I meant it,” he says.

  My eyes go wide. “I didn’t say…”

  He snorts—snorts, not smirks, thank goodness. “Lindsay, you’re good at manipulating what people see, but only on a superficial level. You’ve never had to hide yourself from someone who was really looking.” He smiles. “I’m looking. We all are.”

  “Not Romeo,” I say.

  He shakes his head. “Especially Romeo.” He pauses, then pulls out. Something’s bothering him, and I wonder if it’s because I brought up another man.

  Or if it’s because I brought up another man instead of saying those three little words back to him.

  But the moment has passed. If I tell him the truth now, that I love him, he’ll think I’m just saying it. If I tell him the whole truth, that loving him terrifies me, he’ll think I’m insane.

  Chapter 8

  As Hawthorne and I walk to his office, I consider that there’s something cathartic about our cycles of fighting and then working out our problems with rough sex.

  Dysfunctional, too… but actually I’m not even sure about that. Our banter has a bite, but when it’s important, we always do the right thing.

  Hawthorne opens the office door.

  Slade is sitting on the sofa, and Romeo is pacing in front of the window, looking out.

  “We were wondering what happened to you,” Slade says as Hawthorne and I enter.

  “Something came up,” Hawthorne says, and I feel a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips.

  Slade makes a noise that tells us exactly what he thinks of that excuse.

  “It’s fine,” Romeo says, turning to face us. He seems contemplative, and I wonder if it’s about the secret. He sighs. “I received a call moments after you left. Slade and I have been discussing how to handle it.”

  “What kind of call?” Hawthorne asks.

  Slade leans on the edge of Hawthorne’s desk. “He’s making moves already.”

  “When you say making moves, you don’t mean he’s leaving,” Hawthorne says.

  Slade shakes his head.

  I observe their discussion with growing confusion. “Is this about one of the companies you’re trying to acquire?” I ask. It’s very tempting to mention the racetrack, but I don’t want to get Tamara into trouble.

  The look that Slade and Romeo exchange is a pretty clear answer.

  “It’s about my grandfather?” I set my jaw when no one denies it. “What’s his move?” What did he do this time! I want to scream.

  Romeo glances around Hawthorne’s office. “This place is starting to feel like an execution chamber, Hawthorne. Maybe you should buy some artwork, a few plants. Something to give it life.”

  Hawthorne shrugs.

  My bosses clearly don’t want to tell me what happened, and I’m running out of patience. However, I suspect that pushing them won’t do me any good. “We could try a new restaurant,” I suggest, remembering what I overheard about how they’ll tell me at dinner.

  “No,” Slade says. “Not in public.”

  An understanding passes among the three men. “It’s time to go to one of your buildings,” Romeo says to Hawthorne.

  “One of the short-term luxury rentals?” Hawthorne asks.

  Romeo shakes his head. “Not one of. The short-term luxury rental.”

  Hawthorne exhales slowly, then looks at me, a smile fixed on his face. “You’ll be sleeping on a mattress that formerly cradled princesses. Not that I can say who.”

  I barely hear his words. A sizable lump has formed in my throat. “Are the other places no longer safe? Are things that bad?”

  “The situation has changed,” Romeo says, and even though I’m surrounded by my bosses, and even though there are three very competent bodyguards in the hallway, fear digs its talons into me.

  ~ ~ ~

  Hawthorne’s super-secret building is only a twenty-minute drive from the office.

  My bosses refuse to answer my questions while we’re en route, and my nervousness ratchets higher and higher.

  Whatever my grandfather is up to, it must be serious, and I’m wondering if I’m really ready for this.

  By the time we take the elevator to the top of the luxury skyscraper, I’m about ready to jump out of my skin.

  “Next time we’ll do a vehicle tradeoff,” Romeo says as the four of us enter a spacious home filled with gilded antiques and paintings that look like they cost millions. “Send the limo off in one direction while we head somewhere else,” he specifies.

  “Wise,” Slade says. “Though I think we might want to just lie low for a few days. We can work from home and order whatever we need.”

  “That’s… preferable,” Romeo admits.

  I begin gnawing on my bottom lip.

  Hawthorne strokes my hand. “We’re going to keep you safe, Lindsay,” he promises. “I’ll grab wine.”

  “I’ll help you,” Slade says.

  It’s obvious they’re going off together to discuss something too shocking for my delicate ears. I start to ask Romeo what’s going on, but he’s sitting on a pink overstuffed chair, his brow furrowed, his gaze a million miles away.

  I don’t like what the stress of my life is doing to these men. Despite what my bosses claim, they’re wrong. This shouldn’t be their fight.

  Slade presses a glass of chilled wine into my palm.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Gewürztraminer,” Slade says. “You’ll like it.”

  I tip the glass and inhale. The aroma is crisp and light. It smells a bit like citrus, like sitting on a patio on a summer evening. The first sip is delicious. “I’ve never had this before,” I say.

  “Slade rejected six of them before settling on this one.” Hawthorne sl
ides out of his suit jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair.

  “Really?” My gaze swings back Slade’s way, and I take another sip, this time holding the fresh liquid in my mouth so I can tease out the different flavors.

  He grins. “What kind of man would I be if I didn’t do everything in my power to keep the woman I love happy?”

  I swallow unexpectedly, choking a little.

  I knew Slade has feelings for me, but I didn’t expect him to come out and say it in front of everyone. I don’t dare look at Hawthorne or Romeo. Hawthorne, because of what happened earlier.

  And Romeo… because while I know he cares for me, if he knows he can never love me like Leona, I don’t want to see that truth in his eyes.

  Not now, not ever.

  A bell chimes, and Hawthorne walks away. I focus my attention on the golden-amber liquid in my glass, pretending to be mesmerized by the way it catches and reflects light.

  “If I’m going to stay here for a few days, what about Bandit?” I ask.

  “He’s being taken care of,” Slade says.

  “Yeah, but I don’t want to leave him alone.”

  “He can survive a week without you.” Romeo gets up. When I hear the sound of wine being poured into a glass, I finally lift my eyes.

  Slade is staring right at me. A light smile rests on his lips. He knows why I’m uncomfortable, and he clearly has no regrets about having expressed his feelings.

  Hawthorne reenters the room, and I jerk my attention to him. This thing with my bosses is getting complicated in ways that should have been utterly predictable. I hope it doesn’t all go upside down.

  “The chef has arrived,” Hawthorne says. “She says dinner will be ready in about an hour. Let’s go talk on the balcony. We can watch the sunset.”

  The balcony, it turns out, goes completely around the skyscraper. The whole place is a little over the top, but it’s definitely impressive.

  “Hawthorne, this building is amazing,” I say to fill the silence. “Why don’t you live here?”

  He shrugs. “I bought it as an investment and didn’t want to get attached.” He eyes me. “You don’t like the mansion?”

  We’ve only spent a couple of nights at his home. It’s nice, but it lacks warmth.

  “The tennis courts are nice,” I say. He frowns a little.

  While we talk, we’re taking a tour of the balcony. There aren’t any nearby buildings this tall. It must be frightening in a thunderstorm. And now I understand why there are cutouts and occasional walls jutting out—to direct the wind and prevent it from becoming too strong.

  On the deck’s west side, Romeo gestures to a group of padded chairs that look too expensive to be sitting out in the elements.

  I sit on one, kick off my shoes and tuck my feet up underneath me. Slade’s carrying the bottle of wine, and he refreshes my drink.

  “Thanks,” I murmur. I’m about to take a sip, but then I stop. “Are you trying to get me buzzed?” I ask. “Is the news that bad?”

  That makes Slade laugh a little. Not like he’s guilty, but more like he was expecting to be caught and now that he has been, he can drop the charade.

  He holds up the bottle, estimating how much remains, then brings the neck to his lips and drinks straight from it.

  I’m impressed. Slade is usually beyond refined. On the other hand, he manages to make drinking right out of the bottle look sophisticated. Amazing what a nice outfit and a good haircut will allow someone to get away with.

  His hazel eyes slide across mine as he lowers the bottle. “This morning, we paid off your grandfather,” he says.

  The blood drains from my face.

  Romeo groans. “Give me that,” he growls, taking the bottle from Slade.

  “You did what?” My legs tangle underneath me, but I still manage to get to my feet. The building seems to spin, to rock. “Tell me I misunderstood.”

  I whirl to face Hawthorne.

  The resigned look on his face dissolves quickly. “It was expedient to do so,” he says.

  Romeo hands the bottle back to Slade, then puts his arms around me and pulls me down with him onto a love seat. He laid his jacket across the back when we reached the area, and now it’s lumpy behind our shoulders.

  “Look at the sun,” he says. “Have you ever seen so many beautiful colors? Purple, blue, orange, pink…”

  “But—” I say.

  “The yelling and screaming can wait until after the sun sets,” he says, pulling me closer.

  I don’t know why I don’t fight him. Maybe because I don’t want to, or maybe because I’m used to trusting him when he uses that confident tone of voice.

  The slow, steady thumping of his heart seems to pulse in my body, too. I relax against him, let his calmness settle over me.

  Eventually I become aware of the sunset, and Romeo is right. The colors are spectacular from up here.

  “The sun looks like a psychedelic egg yolk sliding off of a gigantic plate,” Slade says and takes another long drink of wine.

  Chapter 9

  Slade excuses himself. I assume he’s getting another bottle or ten of wine.

  Romeo and Hawthorne continue to stare out at the horizon.

  “Before we gave your grandfather a penny, the three of us voted,” Romeo says. “It was unanimous.” He squeezes me, holding me closer, and I’m glad because I feel like I might just float off the balcony.

  The idea of Grandfather having that much cash is alarming. I can’t even come up with any ideas of how he might put it to nefarious ends, but he can, and he will.

  Apparently, he did.

  Hawthorne puts his hands low on his hips. “David was—”

  “Don’t call him that,” I say. “David was my father.”

  “Ok,” Hawthorne says, not a trace of mockery in his voice; when it counts he’s always on my side. “Your grandfather took the bait. You don’t need to know what the business opportunity is, but he wanted in. Badly. It cost him a lot, but he scraped together the investment. Then, when the project seemed to founder, some of the ‘other investors’ backed out. Your grandfather, as we predicted, doubled down. He wanted to buy them out for cheap, and he offered to ‘talk’ to the holdouts so that the project would move forward.” His lips thin. “We didn’t even have to plant the idea.”

  “Holdouts?” I ask.

  “It’s a real estate venture,” Romeo explains. “Part of the business plan involves buying up the surrounding land, but not all the owners want to sell. Your grandfather’s offer to ‘talk’ to the holdouts is how we’re going to nail him. We know he has a mafia connection. Let’s just say that in the end, either he’ll go to jail, he’ll flee rather than testify, or he’ll… disappear. His ultimate fate will be his choice.”

  I shiver.

  “But he was having difficulty coming up with additional money to invest,” Slade says. I don’t know when he returned. He’s got two bottles of wine.

  “Maybe he was just saying that to talk down the price a bit more,” I say. The idea that my grandfather is cheating my bosses, even if the whole project is a scam, bothers me.

  “Thanks to you, we knew to expect that trick,” Romeo says. “He never said he didn’t have the money. We only know because we watched him try to scrape it together. That’s how we traced his offshore accounts, which aren’t very robust.”

  “How?” I ask. “How could you watch him scrape it together?”

  Slade clears his throat, and I remember that his family money comes from banking.

  “Oh, god,” I say on a soft exhale. He would have the ability to look into Grandfather’s finances from the inside. “Tell me you didn’t do anything that could land you in prison.”

  Other than a slight tightening of his jaw, Slade doesn’t react.

  I don’t know how I’m going to make it up to these men, how I can ever repay them.

  “So we decided to make sure he had enough money,” Hawthorne says. He avoids my eyes. “We weren’t comfortable wi
th some of the things he was doing to raise capital.”

  “Why didn’t you just have some of the investors change their minds again?” I ask. I can’t get over the fact that they paid him off. My grandfather is evil when he needs money, but when he has money? He’s a million times worse. I begin to twirl the ends of my hair. “If you could see how much he has, surely you could have kept the price affordable for him.”

  My bosses exchange a glance.

  “We did try,” Romeo says.

  “And?” I ask.

  Slade tops off my wine. “We instructed some of the investors to change their minds about dropping out. Your grandfather interpreted their renewed interest as a sign that they had insider knowledge. He blocked their request, which he could do because of the terms of the contract.”

  “The man is scum,” Hawthorne says, “but he’s sharp. And paranoid.”

  I know I can’t change what’s done, but I can’t let it go, either. “You could have told him no—”

  “He was going to borrow against your mansion,” Slade says.

  “What?” I gasp, sitting up. “He can’t! It’s in a trust—”

  “Which means nothing. That’s why we decided it was a good time to ‘scrape together’ part of the bribe money. It worked out nicely. He was threatening to make things difficult for your sister, so he won’t find the timing suspicious.”

  “Fucking bastard!” I grit through my teeth.

  “She’s fine.” Romeo pulls me down, back into his arms, and while my blood pressure slowly returns to normal, my hands are trembling.

  “How much of the bribe did you give him?” I ask. “Tell me it wasn’t the full twenty million.”

  “Of course not.” Hawthorne looks offended. “We gave him eight million.”

  “Eight million and a story,” Slade says. “We told him we’re having trouble getting the money together but that we’ll have it by the end of the month.”

  “God,” I growl. This time, when I pull away from Romeo, he lets me go. “You don’t know how sick this makes me.”

  “We’ll get it back,” Slade says.

  “Unless you don’t. He has a way of making money disappear.” In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s in Vegas, playing a few hands of poker to celebrate.