“Promise?”
“Peaches, very little could keep me away from you for very long. I wish more than anything I were there with you now, so you could cry on my shoulder and I could hold you close. I swear this will pass. We’ll figure it out. You, me, Tracey, whatever it takes.”
“I’ll do what you said and call Tracey after my shower.”
“And order a pizza, and turn on your Passionflix. Remember when you told me they made one of your favorite author’s books into a movie? Sylvia Day, right?”
“Yeah, but it’s not the Crossfire series.”
“No?”
“No. It’s Afterburn Aftershock.”
I frown. I have no reference for that title, but it doesn’t matter. It’s a distraction. I hope a good one. “Have you watched it yet?”
She sighs. “No, I’ve been filming.”
“Then treat yourself.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, shower, Tracey, pizza, movie. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Call me later,” I remind her.
“I will.”
“In the meantime, I’ll be thinking of you.”
“Me too.”
She hangs up, and I hold up a hand to Royce, who is on instant alert. I’m sure he’s figured out my girl is in a bad place and wants the details. I pull up my contacts, find Tracey Wilson, and type out a text.
To: Tracey Wilson
From: Parker Ellis
After you speak to Sky, please go stay with her. I don’t want her alone tonight.
She responds in two seconds flat.
From: Tracey Wilson
To: Parker Ellis
What’s going on?
I text back as fast as my fingers can move.
To: Tracey Wilson
From: Parker Ellis
Let her tell you. Please go there tonight. She needs her best friend.
I turn to the table with the scotch and pour Royce a drink. My phone dings as I hand the tumbler to him.
From: Tracey Wilson
To: Parker Ellis
Done.
“Now tell me what the fuck is up with your girl,” Royce demands, holding his drink level at his knee.
I shake my head. “It’s a shit show, brother, and it’s about to blow up in a big way.”
5
The scotch burns as I sip the fiery liquid, letting it mellow the rage inside my soul. I bring Royce up to date on what Skyler told me. His body becomes more rigid, like a jaguar ready to pounce, with each new piece I reveal.
“This chump is going down . . .” Royce’s words are a shrewd, lethal promise.
“Damn straight.”
“We need to find out who his friends are, what’s going on with his finances. Something is riling him up. He didn’t wake up one day and decide to do this to a woman he hasn’t been with in years. There’s got to be a reason, Park.”
I nibble on my bottom lip and pace the room until I realize there’s one person besides Tracey who can help. I grab my phone and pull up her name.
It rings a couple of times before a man picks up. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your call at . . . eleven in the evening, Mr. Ellis?” He addresses me formally, as he knows this wouldn’t be a call I’d be making at this hour if it weren’t business or extremely important.
“Michael, I need to speak to Wendy. I need her help with something immediately.” I form my request as a demand, leaving not even a hint of wiggle room for him to deny me if he wants his woman to keep her job. I wouldn’t fire her, but he doesn’t know me well enough to come to that conclusion.
Wendy has become part of our extended family in the short months she’s worked for us. She’s irreplaceable.
“I see.” His tone is direct, businesslike. “Please hold a moment.”
There’s a rustle of sound, and then as if from far away, I can hear him speak.
“Cherry, you may put on your robe for the length of time you speak to your boss. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” I hear her voice but just barely.
“The moment you end the call, you will remove the robe and come kneel at my side.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” I hear Wendy’s answer, much softer than her usual go-getting nature.
I grind down on the back of my teeth, wishing I hadn’t heard all that, but I’m intrigued nonetheless. I’d already figured out their D/s dynamic prior to this call. But if I hadn’t, overhearing what I did definitely confirms they are deeply into a lifestyle I know very little about. Unfortunately, with the pictures likely to be released to the public, I may have to become a lot more knowledgeable once my girlfriend’s photos hit the stratosphere.
“Parker? What’s up?” she asks, all chirpy Wendy. I’m not sure what I expected, but she sounds normal as usual.
“Wendy, look, I’m really sorry to bother you.” I rub at my temples with thumb and forefinger and start to pace once more. “Skyler’s in trouble. Her ex, Johan Karr, is threatening to share some kinky naked photos of her and write a tell-all book about her sexual proclivities, which actually aren’t hers but his, and I need to figure out why. Or at the very least, come up with something that can go up against what he’s threatening.”
“Oh my God! What a creep!” She yells into the phone so loud I have to pull it away from my ear for a second.
“You can say that again.”
“I’ll um . . . talk to Mick and get right on it.”
“I want you to go deep. We need to know his finances, what, if anything, he owes, who his friends are, where he frequents, anything and everything. If he’s threatening to ruin my woman’s career and good name, I want to fight fire with fire.”
“Oh, I’ll find everything,” she promises.
I lick my lips and lower my voice, not wanting to put myself or IG on the line, but knowing I’d do anything for Sky. “Even if you have to use some questionable means to do it . . . I . . .”
“Parker, this is family. When one of us gets hurt, all of us get hurt.” Her words make my chest constrict and my heart feel like it’s going to pound its way right through bone and muscle and burst to the surface.
She continues, “We may not have known one another for long, but besides Mick, you three guys are all I have. I’ll dig deep. Real deep. There will be no stone left unturned. Feel me?”
My mouth goes dry, and it’s hard to speak around the sudden catch in my throat. “Yeah, Wendy, I feel you. Thank you.”
“I’ll hit you back when I’ve got something.”
“Anything,” I whisper, but it comes out as a plea.
“You got it, boss man.” She hangs up before I can thank her again.
“Good idea, calling in Wendy. She’s a freakin’ genius, man. If there’s anything to find on him, she’ll uncover it. For sure.”
I nod numbly and stare out the window at the San Francisco skyscrapers, wishing I were seeing a different view. The one from Skyler’s penthouse would be ideal right about now.
Royce claps me on the back. “We’re going to figure out how to help your girl. Let Wendy and Tracey do their jobs. There’s nothing more we can do from here ’cept wait.”
I agree with a short chin lift, then tug at my tie, yank the offending thing off, and toss it at my suitcase.
Royce pours me another drink, picks up the hotel phone, and orders from room service. “Yeah, we’d like a couple of steaks, medium, with a side of potatoes and greens sent up, along with another bottle of scotch. Put it on our room. Thirty minutes? Great.”
I kick off my shoes, and after hanging up the phone, Royce follows. He undoes his tie and the first two buttons on his collar, then folds his tie nicely and sets it on the table. He removes his jacket, folds it in half, and places it over the back of a chair. Once he’s more comfortable, he sits down on the large sofa in the suite’s living room, grabs the remote, and finds the latest baseball game. I bring my drink over to where he’s sitting and stretch out, phone in one hand, drink in the other.
Silently, but in absolute solidarity, we watch baseball and wait to hear something back from either Wendy or Skyler.
Two hours fly by and no news. I’ve texted Skyler and called. She’s not answering, but I do get a text from Tracey stating she is with Skyler and has some ideas.
I groan when the baseball game ends late. It’s ten in the evening here, with no word from either female. I sigh and move around the room, needing to release some of this pent-up energy. A distraction right now would be nice—then I remember what happened earlier in the day. Since Royce is here keeping me company, there’s no reason not to dig into what went down at Renner Financial Services.
“You gonna talk to me about what happened with Rochelle?” I lift a leg up on the couch and turn toward the big man.
Royce shakes his head resolutely. “Nope.”
I grind my teeth, trying to figure out a way to get him to open up. I know he’s miffed about her blowing him off. Any man would be. Then again, maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it because it proves I was right about her all along. He needs to get this out, for the sole reason of moving on.
“Brother . . . you banged her, were about to do it again until I walked in, and then she dismissed your time together as a fling. Knowing you’re not a ‘hit it and quit it’ man, that had to burn you up inside. At least a little.”
“Not really.” He attempts to lie, but I can hear the scratch of disappointment in his tone. “Who’s to say there still won’t be anything between us? We had something last night. It was intense, filled with passion, and felt as if it could last awhile if given half the chance.”
He’s insane! The man still thinks he has a chance. “Roy, she’s not available to you. Not to mention she spent hours with me looking at suitable future husbands. She’s also eagerly anticipating the party we’re throwing at the end of the week where she can meet the top candidates. She’s probably going through their profiles now.”
He shrugs and leans his bulk back against the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table. “Don’t care. There was something there . . .”
“Yeah! A whole lot of lust. Believe me when I say I know exactly what that looks like. I had it with Sophie. Now she’s one of my closest friends. But it’s nothing compared to what I feel for Skyler. She turns my insides into molten lava when I see her. The shit about butterflies in your stomach and stars in your eyes . . . yeah, that sums it up. I’m batshit crazy over the woman.”
“You’re in love with her, man,” Royce says resolutely.
“Yes!” I admit out loud for the first time since Kayla. I’m in love. Holy shit. “Fuck!” I brace my weight against the back of the couch and take several deep breaths.
I’m in love with Skyler.
Skyler freakin’ Paige.
My dream girl.
Mine. All mine.
And she’s hurting. Dealing with this shit storm without me by her side. We can’t go on being this far apart from one another all the time. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but right now, I want to throat punch the guy who came up with that shit. I need her. I need to be there for her when life throws her a curveball and vice versa.
“We need to get through this case, but in the meantime, you can’t be fucking around with the client. No more. I mean it.” The words leave my mouth, and I hardly recognize them. It’s the first time I’ve ever made a demand of one of my business partners. Suggestions, yes. Idea sharing? Absolutely.
Demands? Never.
“Say what? I think you better get off your high love horse and think about what you just said to me . . . part-ner.” He emphasizes the single word that means the world to all three of us. “I’m your partner, not your employee. And I am your brother . . . by choice. Don’t you dare try and tell me how I’m going to act with a woman I’m interested in. I would never intervene if a woman meant something to you.”
“Roy . . . I’m sorry. I . . . She’s not for you.” It’s a lame statement if I ever heard one, but I’m at a loss to figure out how to get through to him.
“What? Now that you’re in love with your woman, have found your one in seven billion, you think you’re the expert on love? The love guru or some shit? Let’s not forget the last woman you loved jacked you over with your best friend. I’d never jack you over like they did. I’m not him. I’m also intelligent enough and capable enough to make my own fuckin’ decision about who I choose to be with and who I don’t. You hear me . . . brother?”
“Roy, she may have taken you for a ride, but the woman is in love with someone else . . .”
His head jerks back. “Now you’re making shit up.”
I shake my head furiously and stand up. “No, I’m not.”
“Who?”
“Keehan.”
“The black Clark Kent?”
I roll my eyes, because even though we’re having a heated conversation, I made the same comparison he did. “Yeah.”
“Shee-it. She doesn’t have eyes for him. He may have them for her, but she didn’t so much as blink when he put his hands on her the other day in support. She patted his hand like he was a good friend and nothing more.”
I disagree and make it known. “She didn’t act that way when I showed her pictures of other guys. One in particular looked like him, and she was all over it like white on rice. She’s pushed the idea of them so far out in left field, it’s never surfaced as an option, but if it’s thrown in front of her face, I believe she’ll bite.”
Royce gets up off the couch, walks over to his shoes, and sits on the chair to put them on. “I don’t see it. Rochelle is a strong woman. She needs a strong man by her side. Someone who can bear some of the burdens for her.”
I shake my head. “No. She needs a man who can stand by her side and be there to lean on when things get tough, someone who will help lift her up, not take the spotlight from her. Mark my words, Royce, she wants a submissive male. Someone who lives to be with her, whose every decision is based on how to make her happiest. Keehan is that man. He has already devoted his entire life to her. She needs to open her eyes and see what’s in front of her face. It’s time for Rochelle to want what she already has.”
“This is ridiculous. You’re shooting out in left field, and I’m warning you . . . there’s something between Chellie and me, and I’m going to find out what it is.”
I sigh and place my hands on my hips. “I’m afraid you’re sorely mistaken, and the last thing I want is to see you get hurt.”
Royce’s eyes are sparkling with white-hot fire, and he raises a finger to me. “You need to trust that I know what’s right for me.”
“I can’t do that when I know she’s all kinds of wrong for you. I’m going to continue with the contract and find her the right man for her. Mark my words, Roy . . . it’s not you.”
“Well, I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree now, won’t we. And may the best man win.” He positively sneers his venom.
I raise my hands and let them fall to my sides in defeat. “It’s not a game!” I holler, and race for the door in time to see his long strides eating up the hallway alongside his ire.
“No, it’s not.” This time he points at his chest, puffed up with pride. “It’s my fuckin’ life. Stay out of it!” he roars, then shoves his key card into the door of the suite at the end of the hall and disappears inside.
“Fuck!” I grumble as my phone buzzes on the coffee table.
I stalk over to it and see “Peaches” on the screen.
“Sky?”
“No, it’s Tracey.” Her best friend’s voice comes through the connection.
“Where’s Sky?” My heart is pounding a million beats a minute. Between my fight with Royce and the anxiety over what’s happening with my woman, I’m a goddamned mess.
“Sleeping. My phone died from all the calls I made while she watched her movie and drank a few glasses of beer.”
“Is she okay?” I rub at my temples and close my eyes tightly, rivers of anger washing over my skin. I wish I w
ere in her bed, holding her protectively in my arms where nothing could harm her.
“No. Johan means business. His lawyer already called me with an offer.”
Knife straight to the gut. “An offer? Like he’s selling something to the highest bidder?” I scowl. “What’s his offer?”
“Fifty million and the problem goes away,” she states flatly with zero emotion.
He wants $50 million.
“Jesus Christ! She’s not going to pay that, is she? Does she even have that much money?” I muse absentmindedly, not realizing I’ve said it out loud.
“Parker, she’s the highest-paid actress in Hollywood and has been for the last few years. Of course she has the money. Her last film alone netted her that much.”
My entire body feels heavy, and I sink down into the nearest armchair and rub furious circles over my temples to ease the pounding in my head. “Oh,” I say lamely. I guess it never dawned on me how loaded my girlfriend is. Not that I care. I love her, not her millions.
“The lawyer is pulling together the agreement. We’re going to see about meeting up with them next week.”
“She’s going to meet with the bastard?”
“It was part of the agreement. Sky’s choice. She wants to look him in the eyes.”
I run my hand through my hair and clench my teeth, practically spitting through them when I respond. “This is fucked up, Tracey. Can’t you or one of her lawyers get her out of it?”
She sighs deeply. “I don’t think so. The pictures are real. Sky confirms it. They are in his possession to do with what he wants.”
“But she says she didn’t agree to them.” I slam my closed fist on the tabletop nearest me. The light flickers at the onslaught, and Roy’s empty whiskey glass rattles, almost falling over.
“She agreed to be gagged. She agreed to be blindfolded and tied up. Now that the pictures could hurt her, she’s saying she didn’t agree to those. It’s hearsay. We don’t want this taken to a judge and have a media storm of the century on our hands. If she pays the money, we get the pictures back.”
“And the book?”
“I don’t know. At this time, they’re negotiating for use of the pictures. He doesn’t want to agree to a full NDA. We may have to offer more to secure his silence.”
International Guy: Milan, San Francisco, Montreal (International Guy Volumes Book 2) Page 19