by M. S. Parker
My hand flexed on her hip, digging into her flesh until I knew she'd have bruises. I slammed into her, listening as a series of wails fell from her lips. She came hard and fast, and still I kept driving into her, pushing her into a second, then a third orgasm before I found my own.
I groaned her name as I buried myself deep, emptying into her. I closed my eyes as our bodies shuddered against each other. I'd never really understood what people meant when they'd talked about “being one.” Until Aleena. She wasn't just mine, she was a part of me. The best part.
A weak moan escaped her as I pulled out. I wrapped my arm around her waist and managed to maneuver us both over to the overstuffed armchair that sat next to the fireplace.
“Damn.” I let out a breath as I pulled her tight against my chest.
She laughed and then rolled her head around until she could meet my eyes. “Are you feeling better, Sir?” Even though her tone was teasing, I could sense the serious note behind the question.
I didn't have a chance to answer though, as we both heard the familiar sound of a car coming toward the house.
A low noise of annoyance escaped her as she pulled away. She was smiling as she bent and kissed me, her lips soft and sweet. The bottom one was still swollen and I knew I’d get hard every time I looked at it tonight.
As she straightened up and moved toward the bathroom, I stayed where I was.
Was I feeling better? Well, I could think clearly. For now. That was something, I supposed.
Chapter 3
Dominic
“Now, Dominic, there’s only so much I’ve been able to learn.”
Jefferson Sinclair pinned me with dark eyes, his face sober. He held a glass of red wine in one hand and looked from me to my mother before glancing at Aleena. His gaze lingered on her for a moment before he shifted his attention back to me. I couldn't really blame him, but I didn't have to like it. His lips twitched and I realized some of that must've shown on my face.
“And I can only give you vague details. Those details aren’t to be shared, even as vague as they are.” He paused and then added, “You have to understand, this is one big-ass case. The Attorney General, the FBI…they're keeping it close to their chest and they can’t have anything messing it up. You got me?”
“Trust me.” Over the rim of my glass of scotch, I met his eyes. “The last thing I wanted to do is mess this up. I want these bastards caught.”
“Jefferson,” Cecily said softly. She reached out and touched his hand, smiling a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. I didn't look a lot like her, but I knew that kind of smile. “That’s all any of us want. We’re not going to give an exclusive to the New Yorker or anything. We just want to know if there’s been any headway.”
He looked at her for a long moment and then he nodded. “There's been some. They aren’t giving me names, but I did learn that they’ve gotten a couple of middle men. Apparently, they were going through and making sure everything was nice and clean. They weren’t clean enough.” He tipped his glass of wine in my direction and added, “Then again, having the heir of the St. James fortune find out that he was stolen from his rightful mother before she ever had a chance to hold him…well, the media ate it up, as you all know. People panicked.”
The smile on his face made me scowl. “Is this amusing you, Sin?”
The old nickname came easily and he leaned back, shaking his head. “No, it’s not, man. But let me tell you this: panic is good for men in my position sometimes. Not my panic, you see. But when suspects panic? When people of interest panic? They get stupid. Stupid causes mistakes. Mistakes lead to arrests and arrests lead to trials. That’s what we want in the long run.”
Silence fell and after a moment, Cecily cleared her throat and reached for her glass of wine.
I watched her as she took a sip, wondered if she was doing the same thing I was, trying to get a grip on her temper, struggling to stay in control as Sinclair made everything sound so simple. Like all of the shit we'd been through could be boiled down so succinctly.
She flicked a look at me and I realized what the answer was.
Yes.
She felt the same way I did. Although she was doing a better job of hiding it. Perhaps some of my temper came from her. I’d always wondered. I knew I didn't get my asshole gene from her. I figured that was half nature from my bastard of a biological father and half nurture from my adoptive father.
Her lashes fell, shielding her gaze. Swinging her attention back to Jefferson, she asked, “Do you think they’ll find the people behind it all? The brains of the operation, so to speak?”
“After this much time?” Jefferson shook his head. “I’d be afraid to give a yes or no to that. I know two of the agents on the team the FBI has assigned and the lawyer with the Attorney General’s office. She’s a bulldog, let me tell you. She will not let this go. She'll chase every lead, push every witness, ask every question. If anybody can close this case, it’ll be those three. And if they can't, no one can.”
***
Aleena, sensing that my mood hadn't really improved much, guided the dinner conversation toward lighter subjects, keeping Cecily and Jefferson talking while I brooded into my wine. It wasn't until Cecily mentioned an event she had coming up with one of her charities that I raised my head.
Glancing up at her, I asked, “How would one go about getting started with that kind of thing?”
I’d caught her off-guard. Puzzled, she asked, “With what? Hosting a dinner?” She smiled at Aleena. “Tell your lovely assistant here how many people and where you want it if you have a specific place in mind. As organized as she is, I'm sure she could take it from there. That’s what Tom does for me.”
“No. Your…um…” I stopped, the words seizing in my throat as awkwardness took root. What if she thought I couldn’t handle it? What if I couldn’t? Son of a bitch. I'd never been this unsure about anything before.
Ignoring the whisper in my head telling me that I couldn't do it, I forced myself to look back at my mother.
“I’ve decided I want to do something about what happened to me. To us,” I amended. “I discussed the idea with Aleena, but neither of us know where to start.” I took a slow breath. “I want to start a charity, a foundation, whatever you call it, but something that will help fight against what was done. What is being done.”
My mother’s eyes widened as she glanced between Aleena and me. Then, a slow smile spread across her face. “So you want to know how you’d get started on establishing a charitable foundation, then.”
“Yeah.”
Again, that strange feeling of nerves washed over me. I didn’t like it. It'd been a long time since I’d had to deal with being uncertain or anxious about much of anything, and I didn’t get it. It didn’t make sense. It was just a different kind of business. Right?
I could at least fake confidence as I smiled at Cecily. “That’s exactly what I want to do. Something that will fight against human trafficking, maybe offer resources to those who don’t have money for rewards. I’m not sure yet how to do this or what all I’d need to focus on.”
“Having somebody from law enforcement on hand wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Jefferson said quietly, his expression serious. “Somebody who's worked human trafficking cases before, kidnapping, that sort of thing. There are…well, certain signs to look for.” He hesitated, and then added, “If I may make a suggestion. One thing that needs to be done and just isn’t get done is public education and awareness.”
Eying him, I nodded slowly. “Yes. That’s exactly the kind of thing I’d like to do. That, and more.”
“I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
The smile on Cecily’s face filled me with a weird sense of pride. I was familiar enough with that emotion—pride. I'd felt pride when a project I’d taken on did well. I'd felt pride when my employees did well.
But this was something different, more personal. More embarrassing too. I realized I was squirming when Aleena leaned over and presse
d her lips to my cheek.
“She’s proud of you,” she whispered so softly that nobody but me could hear.
Proud of me.
I wanted to shrug it off, wanted to say something flippant. It didn’t matter if Cecily was proud of me, did it? I was an adult, wanting to do something good for society. It wasn't like I was doing this for her.
Except it did matter. And she was the reason I wanted to do it.
Suddenly, I realized why I’d been so uncomfortable all evening. I’d been worried that Cecily wouldn’t care, worried she’d think it wasn’t a good idea...worried that she think I couldn't do it.
And now I was dealing with the knowledge that she liked the idea and she was proud of me for it.
I was twenty-nine years-old and I’d never experienced a mother’s pride before.
“Sir.”
At the stiff sound of Pierson’s voice, I looked up, although the last thing I wanted to do was break this moment.
The look on my butler’s face was tense. He glanced at my guests and then back at me. “Sir, I apologize but your—”
“Oh, stop apologizing.” The voice was gruff and condescending. “You don’t need to apologize because his father came to see him.”
The sound of the voice coming from behind my butler made my stomach roil.
I didn’t want to see him. I wanted to jump up and get him out of here before Cecily, before Aleena, had to deal with him.
But it was too late.
Solomon Snow, my adopted father, walked into the dining room.
Hands in the pockets of his slacks, he looked around, a black eyebrow arched imperiously, his blue eyes taking in everything and everyone. His gaze lingered on Cecily, and then on Aleena, before moving on to me. I wasn't sure which made me angrier. I stood.
“Dominic, son. It’s good to see you.”
“Yeah?” Curling my lip at him, I said, “That’s not what you said the last time you saw me. When was that, by the way? Five years? Ten?”
I knew exactly how many years it had been. To the day. And now, staring at him, it was pretty clear that enough years hadn’t passed. The man in front of me wasn’t my father. Even if the adoption records said otherwise. At least Jacqueline had tried, had loved me even after...and she still loved me.
This bastard had just walked away.
A muscle in his jaw throbbed, but the easy smile didn’t fall away. “I heard you were up this way and I thought I’d stop by and visit. It really has been too long. It looks like you're wrapping up dinner. Could I maybe join you for drinks?”
“No.” I didn’t bother softening the response.
“Son—”
“Don’t call me that,” I warned him. I was practically vibrating with tension and anger. It was taking a phenomenal effort to keep calm. “You lost that right when you walked away. I want you to leave.”
His gaze flicked back to Cecily. “Let me guess,” he said. One hand left his pocket and he reached up, stroking a finger across one of his neatly groomed eyebrows. “I read about how you reconnected with your birth mother. You’re having a little family reunion. You, Cecily and…”
His gaze moved to Aleena and the predatory intent there had my hand curling into a fist. “Your friend?”
Aleena rested a hand on my arm as she stood. I could almost hear her mental warning to keep my temper.
Slowly, I covered her hand with mine and glared at my...at Solomon, I lifted her hand to my lips and kissed it. Without bothering to answer his question, I said, “I believe I asked you to leave.”
“And I believe I made it clear that we have things we should discuss.” Solomon had a polite, dismissive sneer as he looked at where Aleena and my hands were still joined. “Five minutes. Then you can get back to tugging on your mommy’s apron strings and your…friend’s…”
I took a step towards him. “Watch it,” I warned. Although, I had to be honest. I preferred him being an ass to him pretending like we had any sort of a relationship. “If you insult any of my guests, you’ll end up on your back.”
The threat seemed to amuse him. “How am I insulting anybody?”
It was only Aleena's hand tightening on mine that kept me from hitting him. I looked down at her and she gave me a nod. I didn't need her to say anything. I looked back at Solomon.
“Hall. Now.”
We stepped out into the hallway and he turned to me. I crossed my arms over my chest and waited. There was no way I was going to make the first move here.
“Could we take this into the study?” he asked, gesturing to the room across the hall. The house here in the Hamptons had been my mother’s before she’d sold it to me. We’d come up here often during the summer, though I didn't remember Solomon being here much.
“No.” I planted my hands on my hips, letting my impatience show. “That’s Aleena’s library now.”
I’d started the renovation on the study a few weeks ago. It wasn’t done by any means, but I’d wanted her to have someplace here that she felt was her own. I knew how important a haven was, even though I wanted her to feel at home here with me. We all needed a haven.
Aleena was mine.
“For fuck’s sake, boy!” Solomon snapped.
“I’m not a boy.” Taking one step toward him, I lowered my voice as I leaned in and growled the words into his face. He was a few inches shorter than me, but to his credit, the old man stood his ground. Not that it mattered. I didn't care what he did. This was going to be said. “Do you hear me? I’m not a boy and after the way you deserted me, you don’t even have the right to call me your son. I don’t owe you shit.”
Something flickered in his eyes. He started to nod, but his gaze strayed past my shoulder. “Cecily, do you mind if I have a few private moments with Dominic?”
I looked back, saw my mother standing in the doorway, her head regally inclined. At least, having grown up with people like him, she knew how to handle this kind of self-important ass.
“My apologies, Solomon,” she said disdainfully. “I wanted to find the restroom. If that meets your approval, of course.”
He flicked a hand at her and I was—again—tempted to hit him.
Just a little.
“Cecily, a moment please,” I said. I looked at Solomon. “You will not be rude to guests while you’re under my roof. I’d suggest you apologize or our five minutes will consist of me throwing you out on your ass.”
He sucked in a breath, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t have shit to apologize for. Hell, Dominic, she’s already using all of this as fodder for her bleeding heart causes. Don’t act like you can’t see her twisting this, milking more money out of people for a bunch of worthless inner-city street brats. It’s pathetic. They whine about how hard life is and they won’t work a day in their lives. All they want is handouts.”
“You son of a bitch,” Cecily said, her face going red. She came striding toward us, pointing her finger at him, her dark eyes flashing. “Those 'inner-city street brats' are worth ten of you.”
I stared at her. This was a side of her I'd never seen before. I'd definitely gotten my temper from her.
Curiosity kept me silent and I slid my hands into my pockets as she moved in a little closer, her voice cutting as she said, “You’re an odd duck to be calling people out over money, Solomon. You were a trust-fund baby yourself, up until your father lost most of the family fortune.”
My eyes widened. Okay, I'd known he wasn't as rich as my mother—Jacqueline, I meant—was, but he'd never acted like he didn't have money.
Solomon tensed, raising a hand and jabbing a finger toward my birth mother. “Watch it,” he said, his voice flat.
“What?” All innocence, Cecily stared at him. “I’m sure everybody understands why you married Jacqueline. It was a good match. You got her money and your family kept quiet about how her father had been stupid enough to trust your father with a cool million...and he lost it all.”
Solomon lunged.
I caught him by the arm without
even thinking about it. He came around swinging and I dunked under the blow before landing two of my own. He doubled over, clutching at his gut as he slowly sank to the floor.
I grabbed him by the shirt collar and dragged him back up. He swayed, gasped, his eyes wide and unfocused.
He was going to have a black eye.
Shaking him, I said his name. “Look at me.” His eyes finally focused on my face. “Get out,” I said quietly. “Get the fuck out and don’t ever come back here. If you do, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”
I sent him away from me with a shove and if Pierson hadn’t been there to catch him, Solomon Snow would have gone right back down on the floor. The sight wouldn’t have bothered me much, except that I wanted him gone.
I turned to see Cecily staring at me. Then my gaze slid to the doorway behind her where Jefferson and Aleena were standing. I tried to say something, anything. But in the end, I just turned and headed down the hallway.
Behind me, I could hear Aleena talking to them.
That was fine. Just fine.
She could make my excuses and herd them along. I had to be alone.
***
I didn’t regret hitting Solomon. He wasn’t my father, hadn’t been for a long time, if ever.
But as I’d stood there, listening to him, watching as he sneered at the woman who’d given birth to me, at the woman who’d lost me before she’d even had the chance to hold me, I realized just how much I hated him.
If anything, I regretted not hitting him more than twice.
A few minutes later, I stood at my bedroom window looking down at the driveway. Jefferson stood by Cecily’s car and opened the door. I watched as she slid inside.
Part of me wanted to call her back inside and apologize for what I'd done.
Part of me wanted to ask her something, though. No. Demand. I wanted her to tell me that my birth father was a better man than Solomon Snow.
Based on the little I knew, I wasn’t sure if I was ready for the answer.
Chapter 4
Aleena
I was going to go blind on this particular project, I knew it.