Crown and Anchor Series: Book 1-4

by Kerri Ann

  Pulling even my resolve to the edge of insanity, I finally relented. Following him and agreeing to lunch, I’ll have a hard time concentrating on food, but only because I want to see him try to impress me. Am I being evil choosing the restaurant I have? Yeah, sure I am. But I guess my goal of the day is to piss off all the Crown family members.

  For sure, there’s no way Casper doesn’t know about the nasty things I said to China, so I doubt that I’ll be welcomed up to his room anytime soon. And now that Circe is being moved in with him—at least that’s how it sounded—then I bet the guards will have a kill order in place.

  Memo. Next time I visit, best to wear pants and a top that’s not uber loose. Last thing I need is to be naked while being escorted out on the shoulder of a guard.

  As we drive down from the hospital, I direct James toward this little hole-in-the-wall vegan joint. The food’s good, the atmosphere is somewhere between jammed and overcrowded, and there’s not an ounce of animal within. Well, present company excluded. This is gonna be fun for sure. I bet he’s never eaten vegan in his life. More than likely, Jamieson Crown has three large steaks for dinner with a side of chicken, two pounds of bacon, and three small pigeons for dessert. My vision of him pouring over a plate of wheatgrass and chickpeas is something I can’t wait to see.

  On the drive over, I try to act aloof as I take in the man behind the wheel. He’s concentrating fully on the road, doesn’t venture a gaze at his cell once, and he’s kept his hands to himself. But everything about the man astounds me. His quietness, without the need to converse, screams of a different person altogether. Not what I’d expected.

  “Pull up next to that blue car,” I tell him as we’re fast approaching the shop. Doing as instructed, Jamieson pulls up.

  The spot I offered is going to be tight with his rental SUV, but I bet he can pull it off, just to prove to me that it can be done. Signaling, waiting for a car to pass, Jamieson folds the massive beast in as if he’s moving a Mini.

  Call me pleasantly surprised.

  As suspected, there’s at least ten people milling around outside the restaurant, and the sidewalk patio is full. If it looks like this down here, then there’s no way the rooftop isn’t over capacity.

  He pulls the keys from the ignition. “Where to next, boss?” he asks.

  “We’re here! Buck up, buddy.” Opening my door, I don’t give him a second to question the store. Wandering in, I bully my way to the counter, not looking to see if he followed behind. It doesn’t take long for the lady behind the counter to request my order, just as Jamieson tucks himself in behind me.

  “What will you have?” she asks, taking in the gargantuan, gruff man. I bet she’s thinking the same thing I am. ‘What the fuck can we offer him? There’s no meat here, Mister.’

  Without missing a beat, Jamieson says, “I’ll have the chickpea couscous, the tofu red apple salad as a side, and…a spring mountain smoothie, please.”

  With her mouth agape and a look of shock, she pauses for a moment. ‘What the fuck’ is written all over her face. I bet my jaw is bouncing off the floor, too. Jamieson isn’t amiss here. In fact, he looks right at home ordering froufrou drinks and strictly off the new age menu with nuts and berries.

  “What do you want, Carli?” Looking at me, there’s not an ounce of cynicism in his stare.

  Picking my jaw up off the floor, I say, “I’m having a quinoa, cranberry, and wheatberry salad.” My favorite thing on the menu.

  As the woman behind the counter stands stunned for a moment more, looking at the odd placement of someone so big, she slowly moves off to work on our lunches.

  “You didn’t want a drink?” he asks sweetly.

  I’m awestruck by Jamieson. Clearing the mud from my tongue, I speak, almost befuddled. “No. I’m, um…I’m good. I’ll just go grab a water from the system. I’ll be right back.”

  On the far wall, Kiss My Greens has set up a fountain with varied fruits and veggies to accent your water. Picking up a glass, I add ice chips from the automated bucket, then select a few berries and a slice of cucumber. It’s on your honor that you don’t waste the fruit supplied, or make a meal of it instead of accentuating your fluids. Pouring in my water, watching the ice and plump raspberries float around, I’m immediately struck with a famishing thirst. Guzzling down the sweet nectar, I refill it before walking back to the order station.

  “Ready?” Jamieson asks, holding up two paper bags and his smoothie.

  “I thought we’d eat here.”

  Shaking his head, he grins. “Carli, there’s not enough room to breathe here. Come on. I gave you a choice of what to eat, but you can’t expect me to sardine into one of those chairs.” His smirk is something I’m slowly learning to like. “Come on,” he says, “I have the perfect place to eat.”

  I allow him this small victory in our war of wills “Fine, give me a sec.” Returning to the bar, I select a compostable cup, lid, and straw. Transferring my drink over, I grab a bit more water to fill it to the brim before sucking a bit down.

  Walking to the door, pushing our way back through the crowd, we pop back into his rental. “Hold on, Carli,” Jamieson advises.

  Opening the door for me, he juggles the bags and sets our drinks on the roof so that I can hop in.

  “Thank you.”

  He gives me a sweet smile, and “You’re welcome.”

  Closing my door, he opens the back and sets the bags on the floor before hopping around to the driver's seat. “You’ll like it, I’m sure.”

  “I’m trusting you, Jamieson.”

  “I haven’t given you a reason not to, have I, Carli?” He’s serious, stoic, and he sounds almost worried. I need to lighten up the conversation.

  “Well, if you pull up at a strip club or a brothel and I rush in before you, don’t be surprised.”

  “Never a dull moment with you, Carli. Never.”

  “Did you expect less?” I quip off.

  Quieting, without answering my taunt, Jamieson pulls onto the road. With a quick jaunt down Santa Monica Boulevard, we park a few streets over from the famous pier.

  “Ready?” he asks with that quick smile, popping his seat belt.

  Looking around, surprised at his location, I don’t move at first. “Really? We’re eating at a tourist attraction? The pier?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to seem predictable, now would I? It’s no fun when you know what I’m about to do.”

  True.

  Fine. I guess I can play his game.

  “Lead on then, Mr. Crown. Our lunch awaits.”

  JAMIESON

  Our lunch wasn’t anything to write about in a blog. It wasn’t worth telling others that it was spectacular either, but I enjoyed it, mainly because of the company.

  Surprising Carli was well worth the overpriced greens and juice. She and the lady behind the counter were fully floored I wasn’t being a Neanderthal, throwing a fit for not having a hunk of meat on a plate, bleeding and requesting its last rites. But there was no way she was getting me to sit in an overcrowded room full of new age hippies and vegans.

  Sweltering in the afternoon sun, I could’ve done without too, but seeing shock and awe coursing through those stupendous eyes? I’d pay thousands to see it again and again. To say I was slightly surprised was an understatement. Taking into consideration that I don’t enjoy this weather, this heat, or the crowds, Carli selected an extremely shaded eucalyptus tree off the beaten path.

  Watching her gingerly walk around pine cones, palm fronds, and beach garbage was entertaining to say the least. Her perfectly manicured fingernails, high-priced shoes, and out of place attire for the beach was an encumbrance walking on the soft grass, but she did it without so much as batting an eyelash.

  I can’t say I haven’t had a quiet meal in my lifetime, but the companionable silence was fantastic. Normally, whenever I take a woman out, they either yammer on about my snowboarding skills, how they’ve watched my every move, how they expect to be in my bed within m
inutes of meeting, or something of the sorts, their intentions are opaque. And though Carli’s are less transparent than most, I still see us ending up in bed. Or, at least, it’s wishful thinking.

  “So,” she says once we’ve tossed all the trash. “What’s it like in Vail, Colorado? I’ve never had the pleasure.”

  “I don’t go into Vail much, other than to train on the trails. I mainly stay to Beaver Creek. My house is out there, and I can hit the runs without a lot of distractions.”

  “You really despise it here, don’t you?” she asks, without a hint of sarcasm.

  “Yeah, I guess I really do. Anything that has to do with sun and surf has been quickly vetoed as an activity. And staying close to air conditioned buildings is a necessity.”

  “I can understand that. You’re not a warm weather kind of guy, Jamieson. I don’t see you fitting in here.” Truer words have never been spoken. Hopefully, after the will reading, they’ll see the need for Wyatt and less for me. I’ll be able to get out of here and back to the cold.

  Crossing her legs neatly at the ankles, laying sideways on the soft grass, Carli seems so out of place. Her exotic features and her expensive taste is hard to envision in this environment, too. “Tell me. What’s a woman like you doing in LA, Carli? It can’t be just your friendship with my brother’s girlfriend.”

  Rising up on her elbow, straightening out her attire, Carli lifts quickly to stand. “Look at the time. I have to be going. The governor is expecting me. I have a flight soon, and I don’t have my car.” Pushing all conversations about her away, I take the hint. Talking about Carli seems to be an uncomfortable subject so I let it go. I’m not the only person it seems with a cagey life.

  Standing, I brush my jeans down. “Got it,” I say. “Let’s get you back so you can get to that jet, lady.” I might push her some other time for information, but right now, I’ll let it slide. One step at a time with Carli seems to be the way of it.

  CARLI

  “Thanks for lunch. It was...entertaining.” Leaning against the rental, legs crossed at the ankles, arms across his chest, Jamieson looks sexy as hell.

  Dropping me back at my car without another word, I feel like an asshole for how I closed off when he asked something very innocent. It’s enough that I want to apologize, but I won’t. We were having a good time. It was amicable and sweet, and I had to ruin it by clamming up as he asked about me.

  Chicken much, Carli? Yep. That’s me.

  Afraid to get close. Yes. Hell yes.

  Fearful of bringing someone else into my crazy and dangerous world of family drama? Of course. Hell, even my best and only friend will never know my past and current situation if I have a say in it. Now that Kato has come around, though, I have the feeling I’ll have to divulge info to Circe. That is, if I do as he says.

  “Anytime you want a dinner date, I’m more than happy to stand in.” His stance is open, and without an ounce of sarcasm.

  Wow, Crown can be sweet.

  Shrugging, I pull my keys out of my bag and smile. “Thanks, but I’ll only be around once in a while as Circe repairs.” He may not know the difference, but I’m being genuine. This day wasn’t forced. “It was nice, Crown. Maybe if I’m around and you’re free, I might take you up on that offer.”

  “Sure,” he says, not believing I’ll follow through. “We’ll play it by ear then, huh?”

  “Sounds good.” Unlocking my car and turning back to him with the door slightly open, I say, “It was nice seeing you eat twigs and berries. Tell me the truth, though, you—”

  “Never done it in my life. Surprising you was worth the still empty stomach.” Walking toward me, showering me with that enigmatic smile of his, Jamieson bends forward and stands close. The heat of his body, the smoldering gaze that tells me he wants to strip me where I stand has me wanting him to ask. I’d fold myself into his arms in a heartbeat, work be damned.

  Then he takes a step back. “Have a good flight.” Smiling, he turns away, leaving me standing there with wet dreams.

  Hopping in my car, pulling into traffic and making my way back toward LAX and the long-term parking, I start the mental gymnastics. I’ve been away from the governor for a whole week, and I have a ton of catch up to do. I’ll need all the daytime I can get to make his persona perfect once more. I’m sure he’s done someone or something in a precarious way for his polished look to be tarnished. I work so hard on making him seem the consummate husband, man, and dutiful Governor of the State. He fucks up so often, I’m in constant repair mode, just to keep him out of the tabloids.

  With the ride through town being relatively quick, I make my way through Venice Beach and hit the freeway to the airport. Once there, I hand the valet my keys, grab my bag from the back seat and stand to the side, waiting for Jorge to hand me my ticket.

  “Please, be careful with it. I doubt you want to wax it again.”

  “Promise to park it in the interior this time, Miss.” Flicking apart the ticket, Jorge pockets the other half.

  “Thank you, Jorge. I hate that I had to go all Zena on your boss.” And I did. That weasel ran for the comfort of the locked booth faster than I thought he could. Even in heels, I beat his ass to the door, reminding him that my car deserved more attention than a cheap Civic. He changed his tune as I dialed the owner of the Hilton. Handing him my phone, the overly furry man accepted a tongue lashing from his boss. Chico or Fucko, I can’t really remember his name as it didn’t matter, groveled quite well afterward. Placing me in a very expensive rental, they waxed my Jag from top to bottom. He understood I meant business when I said “Don’t park near the awning. If there’s bird shit on my car, you’ll be licking it up.”

  “Don’t fuck it up, Jorge.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Hopping in the car, adjusting the seat for his short legs, I tap the window before he drives off.

  “Don’t change the station, Jorge.”

  His eyes bug out as he considers the consequences. Ten to one, he was about to, but he nods and rolls the window up, leaving me standing on the pavement as he drives away.

  Walking in, heading to security, I’m impressed. The usual long lines are almost tolerable. Last time I had to wait behind a man who lacked a hygiene routine. His eau de Wild Turkey and body sweat was deplorable. Moving to the front, I quickly prep for the inspection. Might as well ask us to strip naked nowadays, what with the removal of shoes, belts, rings, watches, and hairpins. Soon they’ll have small change rooms for us each to pass through with knickers only.

  If only I wore them.

  Passing through quickly and hitting my departure gate in record time, I get to the seating area with a few minutes to spare. Checking my emails and texts again before heading through the last checkpoint, I find not much has changed. Replying to a few from the governor, a couple from the NRA reps that wanted a meeting with him tomorrow, and a couple from his daughter needing more money for college, all is as it should be in my life.

  “Kaori.”

  Again?

  I don’t bother turning. “Really? Don’t you take smoke breaks?” I’m exasperated by the audacity of Kato jumping me in the airport.

  “Kaori, you need to stop this foolishness.” His voice is even, and filled with malice.

  “Kill me or leave me alone. I’m not going back, and threatening my sisters won’t change it.” Moving toward the boarding kiosk, Kato follows on my heels.

  “It’s not an idle threat. Both of the girls are on lockdown until the end of the week. You arriving is the only thing that will change that.”

  Are you fucking kidding me? Really? Now family has gone a step too far, holding my sisters’ hostage. None of this is their fault, and they were never intended for this position. I may not want it, but I don’t want to leave them to the fate of marrying old men who won’t love or appreciate them.

  “Kato, I have to go to work.” Handing the steward my boarding pass, I move forward. “Unless you’re going to Indianapolis, I suggest you head off, Jiji.”


  Grabbing me by the arm as I take my passport back, Kato looks ready to murder me on the spot for my flippant quip. I in essence called him an old man in a not so friendly term. He deserved it. He’s acting like my father, and that’s the last thing I would refer to him as with any term of endearment. He knows that my comparison was not meant in a nice way.

  “Excuse us,” he says with a tight smile to the steward at the kiosk.

  Tightly grinning with a hint of sarcasm, I say, “I’ll be right back,” before anything escalates. The look on his face echoes his fear for me, but he doesn’t pick up the phone in front of him. I’ll consider that a win.

  Leading me away and to the side, I yank my arm from his grip. “Kato—”

  “No, Kaori, you don’t speak right now.” Steam rises off his words as he spits them succinctly in Japanese. “The position is and will always be yours, and Oyabun expects you will be there.”

  “I never asked for the position or the branding.”

  “Yet you have the wealth that keeps you in the lifestyle you desire. You don’t deny it.”

  Got me there. “Cut me off then. I don’t need the money that bad.”

  “Kaori, this was not your sisters’ fates, and they don’t belong there. You know this. Fulfill it, or there will be repercussions.”

  “And if I flat out refuse it? Will you make them?”

  Hanging his head slightly, fully exasperated with my denial of the fate that is mine, he announces, “He’s dying. There will be no choice.”

  Damn.

  CARLI

  Kato left me standing like a statue in the middle of the boarding area with the weight of my sisters’ lives in my hands. I was born into this just like them, but I’m firstborn. I know what it means. I know what it means to my life, and how everything I’ve avoided for years will become my new norm. This is not what I had in mind when I started this week. Now I have five days to decide, or leave them to this fate—or lack of fate—dangling by a knife’s edge.