by Alexa Hart
The window of my office faces the harbor, and from where I stand, I look away from the streets of my past with a needed distance and focus on the water. I own the marina and half the boats. Hell, I own half this city. And I want more. I take a sip of whiskey. I’ve sent Aster home for the night and now the file on Hannah Gibbons is open on my desk and I sit back down and stare at it for the third time. The information is there but there are questions, things that don’t add up.
I’ve asked Carl to dig deeper, but for now, this is what I know. Hannah Gibbons. Age 24. She was raised by a single mother who worked as a high school teacher until her death from breast cancer last year. Her and her mother lived in modest apartments, but Hannah had money enough growing up. She went to a fancy school, took private dance lessons, excelled at ballet from an early age… how did her mother afford all of that? No mention of a father, but clearly someone’s been acting as a benefactor. Hannah attended Juilliard and then worked as a ballerina for the Boston Ballet, mostly ensemble work but a good career trajectory. She left the company after her mother got sick and didn’t go back after her mother died. Now she’s heavily in debt and the benefactor seems to have vanished. Why?
Hannah’s background has too many loose ends. And I don’t like loose ends.
I also don’t like that I brought her here. When I explained it to Aster, she argued, quite fairly, that there were plenty of other less intimate methods of keeping her safe. I know she’s right, but when I’d seen the look of fear and pain on her face I couldn’t leave her. The only way I’ll know for sure that she’s safe is if she’s with me. It’s like a compulsion. The same compulsion that led me to fuck her that night and like any addict, I gave in when I was offered a fix.
So now she’s here. In my penthouse. And worse, Lily took to her immediately. I could tell. Seeing them together stirred something in me that I haven’t felt in years. I had a feeling the warmth she radiated toward that mangy dog of hers, toward me when I was some injured stranger, hell, even those old music boxes, would probably extend to children too. Lily is easy to love, but because she’s my daughter, people tend to use her as a way to get to me, for better or worse. But Hannah is different. When I peeked in a few minutes ago, that dog was even cuddled up next to Lily like they were long-lost best friends. I can’t decide if letting Hannah into this house is the smartest or stupidest thing I’ve done in a long time. Aster would say stupid, but then Aster sometimes forgets she’s just my assistant.
There’s a knock on the door and I am grateful for the intrusion on my thoughts.
“Come in,” I growl.
Carl walks in, a host of women’s pantsuits in his arms. “She said no,” he says.
“Excuse me?”
“She said no to the pantsuits. She’ll dress herself. She said it a little more colorfully, but you get the idea.”
“I’ll talk to her,” I say.
Carl nods but doesn’t make a move to leave.
“Something else?” I ask.
Carl clears his throat and nods toward Hannah’s file. “I just want to make sure you consider this clearly. Her background is troublesome. And it’s very convenient that she found you behind the garage the way she did.”
“You’re starting to sound like Aster. You think it was a set-up, to get close to me?”
“I think we have to consider the possibility. Whoever stabbed you did a good job of keeping the injuries minor. Just enough to need a rescue. And she’s in debt up to her eyeballs. She could easily be bribed.”
“And so, what? They sent her in to seduce me?” I remember how guileless she’d been. How I’d taken the lead. I shake my head. “She doesn’t have that kind of deception in her.”
Carl frowns. “I’m just saying, it’s not like you to be this…. trusting.”
“Fair enough. But I’m not planning on any more entanglements. Let’s just be safe, I need you to dig deeper into her past. We need to find out who funded her all those years, why she ended up in South Boston. Talk to Joey at The Spotted Owl.”
After Carl leaves, I frown at the pantsuits. I pick one up and head over to her room. It’s time to assert a little control over this situation.
I can see her light is still on from the crack under the door and I knock once but don’t give her time to respond before I barge in. She’s sitting on the bed, rubbing lotion into her toned, stunning legs, wearing a very short satin nightgown in ivory. She looks up in only mild surprise and as she stands up the silky fabric slides over her hips and thighs and breasts, revealing the outline of all the curves I’ve already had the pleasure of exploring.
“You know the point of knocking is to give the other person the right to decide if you can come in or not. But I’m guessing that’s a courtesy you rarely give.”
“You don’t become the Bastard of Boston being polite.”
She looks strangely sad for a moment. “That’s a lousy nickname,” she says. Then, as if catching herself, she straightens up and becomes cold. She picks up a silk bathrobe and puts it on. “Anyway, can I help you?” She’s so prim, and her posture is always whip straight, but I know that she has the ability to become pliant when warmed by my touch. The fact she doesn’t do that easily, that I have the power to get her to bend like that, makes my cock ache.
“My itinerary says I don’t start work until 7 a.m.,” she says.
“The uniform isn’t negotiable,” I blurt out, ignoring her pervious statement.
She smiles. “I thought you’d be annoyed by that. I’m normally a pretty easy-going person, but honestly, I don’t wear pantsuits. They are too cold.”
“The Spotted Owl tank top is not appropriate for my employees to wear.”
“But you own that bar,” I shrug. “Plus, that’s not my normal attire either. Plus, I’m a fake nanny, remember, not a personal assistant or member of your security team.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, sometimes, you’re going to have to relinquish a little control and trust me. We tried that once and it worked out pretty well.”
“If I recall, I made most of the decisions that night. So maybe you should trust me?”
I push her against the door.
“Is this something you do with all your employees, Mr. Hardin?” All her coldness disappears. She can’t hide that her body reacts to me.
“No,” I grumble, “just the really insubordinate ones.”
“Well, then,” she leans in and it takes everything I have not to crush her in my arms. “We’re going to get along fine because I’m really bad at taking orders.”
“Don’t you know who I am?” I ask. I lower my mouth so that my lips graze hers.
She looks at me with a sweet, thoughtful gaze that feels more dangerous than anything I’ve done to her. “No,” she says, breathless. “I’m still trying to figure out who you really are.”
“There’s no mystery, Hannah. I get what I want and I do whatever it takes to get it.” I trace my hand down her silk nightie.
“You’re lying,” she says. “You do what you have to do to protect the people you love. There’s a difference.”
Something in her words wakes me up. I tear away from Hannah, who looks as rumpled and disoriented as I feel and walk away without looking back. Maybe I can’t control this situation the way I thought I could. Maybe I’m already letting Hannah get under my skin.
Chapter 12
Hannah
The next morning I am up and ready by 7 a.m., dressed in a pinstriped tailored blue and white blouse and a knee-length pleated navy blue skirt with nude heels. This is my own outfit and it’s modest and tasteful, take that, Dax.
After last night, I’m more confused than ever. I can tell myself over and over again that he doesn’t want me as anything more than a plaything, but I could see how hard it was for Dax to walk away last night. I don’t have any interest in seducing him, but I feel drawn to him and wonder if I’m the one being seduced.
Running into Dax in the kitchen
this morning, looking delicious and powerfully masculine in a grey tailored suit, really doesn’t help matters. It’s only 7 a.m. and Aster is already here, looking icy and stunning as ever.
Dax looks me up and down with a frown, but I don’t think he’s going to fire me on the spot just for picking my own outfit.
“Good morning, Ms. Gibbons,” is all I get from him.
The chef begins grilling up some bacon on the stove and Lily and Samson come trotting into the kitchen together, Samson wagging his stub of a tail and drooling at the delicious smells.
“Whoa, Ms. Gibbons, you look so pretty,” Lily says. Samson wags his tail as I kneel down and give him a morning scratch behind the ears.
“Thank you Lily, and please, please call me Hannah,” I say.
Lily looks over at her dad, who continues to drink his coffee. He gives her a small nod and she smiles. “Hannah,” she says. “Cool.”
“How did you and Samson sleep?” I ask. “Did his snoring keep you up?”
Aster looks annoyed. “You should not be sleeping with that…. thing,” she snarls.
“But I slept so well! Samson is a nightmare guard dog! Hannah said so.”
“Is he?” Dax asks. He quirks a smile.
“He is,” I nod. “Samson contains multitudes.”
Aster slams her briefcase closed, rolling her eyes. “We should go. Your meeting starts in thirty minutes.”
Lily gives Dax a hug and then he and Aster leave without a word to me. Dax just gives me a tight nod of what I decide to interpret as approval.
In my continued attempt at subversion, I convince the chef to cook up a few strips of bacon for Samson, who drools excessively as he sits nearby and watches. We are supposed to take the Town Car to school, but since Samson needs a walk, I convince Carl to let us walk halfway. Carl concedes, but only if Hans and another security guard accompany us.
So there we are, the four of us walking down Franklin street together, Lily and I sandwiched between two burly men in black suits and earpieces. I let Lily hold the leash since Samson has about as much pull as a small puppy. Lily isn’t chatty by any means, but she isn’t pensive, at least not until we reach the Town Car and drive the last few blocks to her school. As we get closer, I can see that Lily is becoming more and more anxious. Poor kid. I went to a similar school, posh, expensive and the hierarchies were brutal. Enemies of parents often turned out to become the enemies of their children, and while I don’t know much about Dax Hardin, I know the Bastard of Boston has amassed enough enemies to have one of them tear up my apartment. I can’t imagine what that means for Lily. I take her hand and give it a gentle squeeze.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say. I notice a little girl with brown hair and freckles wave at Lily, but she’s too shy to wave back.
Samson, who in another life must have been an amazing therapy dog, rolls over on his back on Lily’s lap. “See, he wants you to give him a good luck belly rub,” I say.
“You’ll be here when I get done?” Lily asks.
“Both of us will be,” I say. “But, what am I supposed to be doing while you are at school?” I ask.
Lily shrugs. “Beats me. I’ve been telling my dad forever I don’t need a nanny anymore. I’m nine years old! But it’s hard to get him to agree to anything.”
“I’m going to give you a little tip I learned from Samson years ago when he ate two pounds of frozen chicken I had set out to thaw, but you have to promise never to tell where you learned it. Ready?”
Lily nods.
“It’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”
Lily laughs. “You really are the best nanny!”
Chapter 13
Dax
The accountant leaves my office on the verge of tears just as Aster comes in and puts a cup of coffee on my desk.
“That’s the second one you’ve fired today. Keep this up and we won’t have the staff to take over Systems Industries.”
“If he wants to call himself a financial advisor.” I slam down a stack of papers. “He should know how to do simple fucking math.”
“I don’t think it’s the accountant that’s bothering you,” she says.
“And I don’t think I need a fucking therapist, Aster. What I need is a new senior accountant. Find me one. One who can add 2 plus 2.”
I take a sip of the coffee. I’m wound up tense and I know Aster is right. That accountant didn’t deserve the thrashing I’d just given him. But I can’t relax because I can’t stop thinking about Hannah. The way she looked in that nightgown. How beautiful she’d been in her surprisingly elegant and modest outfit this morning. She’s driving me fucking insane.
There’s a knock at the door and Carl stands at the entrance. I wave him in.
“You can go, Aster,” I say.
She looks pissed at the dismissal. I don’t usually leave her out of conversations like this, but I can tell from Carl’s face he’s dug something up.
“Sir,” he says. “We’re still looking into Hannah’s past, but I did talk to Bennie.”
“And?”
“He says it’s possible someone else got a hold of his phone.” Carl makes air quotes with his hands. “He hates those ‘damn contraptions’, as he refers to them, and always leaves his in his office.”
I lean back in my chair. “So whoever sent that text had to have access to Bennie’s phone without drawing too much suspicion and know the shop would be closed that night. Nico?”
“Bennie said he’s been skulking around town,” Carl said. “But he hasn’t dared show his face at the shop.”
I shake my head. “He could have snuck in, but he isn’t exactly a subtle fucker is he? And if it is Finch, he has to know we’re watching Nico. Find out who had their car worked on recently. See if anyone else can be traced back to Finch.”
Carl nods.
“Anything on the break-in?” I ask.
“No. Except Hannah usually works the night shift but switched that day. So either it wasn’t planned…”
“Or whoever did it knew her change in schedule.” I frown. “Talk to Joey. Tell him if he doesn’t want another broken nose he’d better be really good at remembering who knew about her shift change.”
“There are other possibilities, Sir.”
I look up at him and I already know what he is thinking. “Like she staged it? She’s in on it too? No fucking way. But there is the possibility they might have intended to find her there. They might have intended to hurt her like they did Angelina.”
“If that is true, the best thing to do for her is to send her away,” Carl says. “Not keep her close. You need to show that she is meaningless to you.”
“I know that,” I say. “But she stays.”
Carl leaves without another word and I slam my fist down on the table. The idea of someone hurting Hannah makes me murderous with rage, but the idea of sending her away, even to protect her, is even worse. I’ve always been a selfish bastard, and I don’t plan on stopping now.
Chapter 14
Hannah
When we meet Lily just outside the front entrance after school, she gives me and Samson the warmest, sweetest hugs. We head right to her tutoring and then ballet class. The chef packed us some snacks, grapes and cheese and some fancy little sandwiches that we munch on as Hans chauffeurs us around. But it isn’t until we arrive at the dance studio that Lily actually seems excited. I totally relate, ballet was my happy place as a child too.
The owner and headteacher of the studio is a lovely old Russian woman, Madame Volkov, and I recognize her the moment I see her. She was quite famous in her day and involved in more than one epic, dance love affair. Some people say the ballet Le Amoureuse was based on her. When we walk in I introduce myself and she nods politely. Despite her epic history, I notice that she seems a little frazzled as the students arrive and funnel into the different studio rooms.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Unfortunately, my teacher for Lily’s class is out
sick,” she says. “I’ve got a full schedule and I think we may need to cancel tonight’s lesson.”
Behind Lily, I see the brown-haired girl with freckles from school walk in along with a few others who all groan in unison over the news that their lesson may be cancelled.
“But we have a show,” the brown-haired girl says. “We have to practice!”
Lily perks up. “Hannah can lead the class,” she says. She speaks so quietly that only I hear her, but before I can stop her, she clears her throat and raises her voice. “Hannah can lead the class!” she repeats.
Madame Volkov looks me over through her horn-rimmed, tortoiseshell glasses.
“I danced for the Boston Ballet until recently,” I stammer.
“So, there you go! Can she fill in tonight?” Lily asks, “we’ll show her the choreography.”
“Very well,” Madame Volkov says. “If she’s willing.”
“Pleeeease,” Lily begs me.
I swore I was done with dance, but I just can’t bring myself to disappoint these girls. Part of me wonders what it would be like, just for a night, to forget why I stopped dancing and remember how much I love it. And I have a feeling with a little help from me as the teacher, I can help Lily and her school friend get over their shyness and become best buddies.
“Okay,” I smile. “Let’s dance!”
Chapter 15
Hannah
When we get home, Dax hasn’t returned from work yet and Hans swaps out with another security guard named Victor. The chef has left dinner for us, a beef stew and warm, homemade bread. Lily instinctively goes to sit at the expansive table, but I wag my finger at her, ticking my tongue.