Secret Pleasure

by Taryn Leigh Taylor

  She held down the power button, forcing a restart before she dropped the phone on her comforter and got to her feet. If she skipped the shower and breakfast, she could probably make it to the office by—

  Her plans were cut off by a cacophony of buzzes and dings as hundreds of push notifications and texts and missed calls flooded her phone.

  What the hell?

  She walked back over to the bed to investigate, but what she saw on the screen in her hand stopped her dead. A litany of words she’d hoped never to see strung together.

  Kaylee.

  Lola.

  Burlesque.

  Whitfield Industries.

  Scandal.

  Stripper.

  The phone slipped from her numb fingers.

  Everyone knew. Her parents. Max. The people who worked for her. All of Los Angeles. The world. But it wasn’t embarrassment that quaked through her at the realization. It was betrayal.

  Because burlesque was the one thing in her life that was just hers.

  The one thing she hadn’t shared with anyone else...except Aidan.

  Her heart keened at the idea that he could be so cruel. Her head told her to grow the hell up. He’d bugged her phone with the express purpose of hurting Max, of ruining her family. It was naive in the extreme to think he wasn’t capable of this.

  Whitfield Industries had been plagued with disgrace of late.

  First a security breach had raised questions about the safety of their flagship product—an app designed to keep information secure.

  Then her father, the former CEO, had been turned in to the FBI by his son, the current CEO, for blackmailing a key member of the SecurePay team.

  Somehow, Kaylee and her team had managed to juggle and avoid the full brunt of either crisis, but how long was that going to last now that she was the latest scandal? How did you spin the fact that the woman in charge of spin was about to be shamed for taking off her clothes in public? All the plates she’d set spinning to keep people looking where she wanted them to would come crashing down around her.

  And much as it pained her, Kaylee knew there were many who would see her “transgression”—being female and embracing her sexuality publicly—as the worst of the three offenses.

  If her credibility was shot, she couldn’t effectively do her job.

  Looked like Aidan was right after all. She was a grenade.

  She’d done all the work for him. All he’d had to do was pull the pin.

  Boom.

  With a resigned sigh, she ignored the part of her that wanted to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over her head and grabbed the phone instead. Between the beeps and the buzzing, she managed to text her assistant.

  Announce a press conference at 10 a.m.

  Then Kaylee walked over to her closet to pick out some appropriate armor for the battle ahead.

  Aidan wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see after the shit show that had erupted overnight, but if he’d thought that having her burlesque career splashed all over the internet and the local papers would cow her, well, he’d been all kinds of wrong.

  Kaylee strode toward the entrance of the building, looking every inch the competent PR director in her sleek gray pantsuit and heels with her dark hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ballerina bun, and nothing like her alter ego, the blonde bombshell who’d caused all this trouble in the first place. And while Aidan had enjoyed every second of watching her dance, he found he preferred this Kaylee. Her certainty, her determination, her general kick-assiness. No secrets. No flash. Just her.

  She was spectacular.

  Her stride faltered as she caught sight of his bike, parked near the entrance of her building. He stepped forward, and their gazes collided. His body came alive as though she’d touched him. But instead of altering her direction to meet him, she headed for the entrance, dismissing him completely.

  Shit.

  He started toward her, and she sped up, but there was no way she’d make it into the lobby before their paths intersected. She beat him to the door by a fraction of a second, pulling it open without breaking stride, so Aidan followed her into the building.

  “I’m not leaving until you hear me out.”

  She shook her head, kept walking. “There’s nothing left to talk about. You should go. In case you haven’t heard, I have a huge press conference to manage this morning.”

  “I didn’t do this, KJ.”

  She whirled on him, eyes flashing. “Right. You’re the only one who knows about...my secret identity.”

  “Ms. Whitfield? Everything okay?”

  Aidan’s shoulders stiffened at the threat of confrontation. Some rent-a-cop trying to impress Kaylee was the last thing he needed to deal with.

  Kaylee nodded, waving off the approaching security guard. “I’m fine, Roy.”

  The burly man sent a pointed glare at Aidan before he turned and headed back to the crescent-shaped desk to the left of the elevators.

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t think I’m the only one who knows about Lola.” Aidan held a hand out, palm up. The static, the interference, the quick drain on the battery, and now the leak. And all of it would benefit Liam Kearney. “I need to see your phone.”

  “After what happened last time? No way.”

  “Give me the phone, KJ. I think someone bugged it.”

  She frowned at that. “Oh, no kidding?”

  “I think someone else bugged it.”

  After a beat of stunned silence, Kaylee took off toward the elevators again, leaving him no choice but to follow.

  “If you’d just let me explain, I—”

  “Explain what? Some giant conspiracy theory? Do you have an evil twin I don’t know about?”

  “Hey.” He reached for her, but his fingertips barely brushed her arm before he thought better of it, pulled his hand back.

  She stopped, though, and dropped her head. Her shoulders curled forward as though he’d popped the bubble of her confidence. It tore him apart.

  The pretty, studious girl he’d known had withstood the constant nagging of her mother, the emotional abandonment of her brother, and the calculated disinterest of her father, and still she’d grown into a beautiful, brave woman who continued to believe in people. Who looked at him like he was something special. At least she used to.

  And he’d ruined it. He hadn’t wanted her trust, had actively warned her not to give it to him. But now that he’d lost it...

  It felt like forever until she turned to face him, even longer until she lifted her head. “How could you do this to me?” She shook her head. “How could I let you do this to me?”

  That spark of fire in her eyes was a relief, even if it was aimed at him. Mad was better than broken.

  “You really think I leaked this to the press? You know me better than that, KJ.”

  For a fraction of a second she looked like she wanted to believe in him again, but then the elevator dinged and the doors slid open and she was back to glaring at him. He followed her inside. Briefly, Aidan thought they might luck out and get the elevator to themselves so he could warn her about the tech glitch, or beg her to forgive him, or push her up against the wall and kiss her until she was too breathless to be mad at him anymore. But before he could do any of those things, they were joined by three women and two dudes in suits.

  Aidan exhaled. Despite the easy chatter of the rest of the occupants, the silence between him and Kaylee was oppressive. Thick. He didn’t like being around her without being able to touch her.

  Not that he deserved to. Or that she’d have let him, even if they were alone. He’d really fucked things up. But at least if they were unaccompanied he could try to fix it.

  Two of the women got out on the sixth floor, the other woman on the fourteenth. The guys, it seemed, were in it for the long haul.


  They kept whispering to each other. Shoulders shaking with laughter as they alternated covert looks at Kaylee. And Aidan knew he wasn’t just imagining it. He could feel her shrinking beside him. Head down, shoulders hunched, like she was trying get small enough to escape their notice.

  By the time they got to the top floor, Aidan was strung tight.

  If the guy in front of him had known that, he might not have raised his voice slightly as the silver doors slid open. The words continuing the family legacy were unmistakable. His buddy laughed.

  Aidan’s blood ran hot as he and Kaylee followed them off the elevator. “We got a problem here?”

  The guy turned around and smirked at him. “Nope. No problem.”

  “You sure? Because it sounded like maybe you had something you wanted to say.”

  The tenseness of the interaction was starting to draw the attention of nearby employees.

  “Is this...” The asshole glanced at Kaylee, then back at Aidan. “Are you trying to impress her, tough guy? Is that what this is?”

  Kaylee’s hand on his arm was all that stopped Aidan from ending him, but his fists drew tight anyway, every muscle in his body aching to wipe that damn smirk off the guy’s face.

  “Because from what I’ve heard, you don’t have to try too hard to get her clothes off. Like father’s hooker, like daughter, I guess.”

  The asshole’s head snapped back as blood gushed all over his skinny hipster tie, and with the amount of satisfaction that roared through Aidan’s body at the contact, it took his brain a second to realize he hadn’t thrown the punch.

  Kaylee cradled her fist in her other hand, swearing softly, and Aidan had never been prouder of anyone in his whole damn life.

  “You fucking cow!”

  The asshole lurched forward, one hand still cradling his bleeding nose, and this time Aidan did step forward, angling his shoulders so Kaylee was slightly behind him. It was only a courtesy, though. Since her punching hand was sore.

  “I wouldn’t.” Aidan’s warning was soft and low.

  “Jones, c’mon man.” His buddy grabbed him and pulled him back, and Aidan was a little disappointed in his good sense.

  The guy swore again, drawing even more of a crowd. Blood spatter dotted the tiles in the reception area like a macabre Jackson Pollock painting.

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  The air changed around Aidan at the sound of Max’s voice, and the gathered spectators snapped to attention, suddenly remembering everything they should have been doing.

  “This crazy bitch punched me!”

  Icy rage flattened Max’s features. “What did you say?”

  “Look, Max. Uh, Mr. Whitfield. I—”

  “Security will meet you at your desk, Jones.”

  Max glanced behind him, but his admin already had the phone to her ear.

  “Sir, I think...” Wisely, Jones’s sidekick stopped thinking when Max levelled that subzero stare at him.

  “I’ll be at my desk if you need me,” he spluttered before hurrying away.

  Fucking coward.

  Kaylee’s punching bag seemed mostly recovered, though his complexion was mottled with anger, blood still trickled from his swollen nose, and his mouth kept opening and closing like a dying fish’s. “Are you kidding?” he finally stammered. “You can’t fire me!”

  “I just did. Take it up with my lawyer if you don’t like it.”

  Jones bit back whatever else he was about to say at the deadly look on Max’s face—obviously the guy wasn’t a complete moron—and turned around.

  Aidan needled him with a cocky grin and a casual press of the down button.

  Max waited until Jones had disappeared from sight behind the silver doors—united front and all that—before he spoke in that clipped, all-business tone that Aidan had always associated with him, even in their teens. “You two, in my office.”

  Kaylee bit her lip like she was trying not to cry.

  “You okay?” he asked, his hand automatically lifting to her back in a comforting gesture. Relief surged through him when she didn’t shake him off.

  “I punched him.” Her hazel eyes were wide, like she didn’t quite believe it.

  He was so fucking in love with her in that moment that he thought his ribs might crack. Still, he managed to keep his voice even. “Yeah you did. Like a heavyweight champ.”

  Kaylee looked down at her hand, then back at him. “I didn’t think it would hurt this much.”

  Me neither. But it did. It hurt worse than anything he’d ever felt.

  Aidan exhaled as they headed for Max’s office. “C’mon, Slugger. Let’s get you some ice.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “SOMEBODY HAD BETTER START TALKING.”

  Kaylee followed Max all the way to his desk, dropping into the visitor chair across from him, but Aidan hung back a little, under the guise of taking in the office’s killer view and swanky furnishings.

  In truth, he was waiting for Max’s executive assistant to show up with the ice he’d asked her for.

  “Martin Jones called me a hooker and I hit him.”

  Max’s frown darkened, but Aidan didn’t get a chance to revel in it, because Max’s EA had poked her head into the office. Aidan grabbed the official first-aid-kit-issued ice pack and strode toward Kaylee.

  “Where the hell did you learn to punch like that?”

  In answer to her brother’s question, Kaylee’s gaze met Aidan’s as he knelt in front of her chair and reached for her injured hand. She was still pissed at him, not that he’d expected less. But when she didn’t pull away, he counted it as a win and pressed the cold pack to her battered knuckles, using the opportunity as an excuse to keep touching her, even for just a second or two longer.

  “Never mind.”

  Aidan could hear the eye roll in his friend’s voice. Former friend. Whatever.

  “You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen her jab. She probably broke that asshole’s nose. You didn’t even draw blood.” Aidan got to his feet and turned to face Max. “You should get her to give you some pointers.”

  The taunt ran out of heat when his gaze fell on a familiar piece of metal, and it drew him forward.

  He picked up the little statue of the horse with the flaming mane. His father had given it to Max, and seeing it here, in this office, surprised him. That Max not only had kept it but had it prominently displayed. Aidan set it back on the edge of the desk and cleared his throat. “Nice digs. Looks like the rumors are true—it’s good to be king.”

  Max opened his mouth to reply, but before he managed a word, the door to his office swung open.

  “Would you mind explaining why I just got a call from Martin Jones’s attorney about a wrongful termination and assault case? And Kaylee’s...extracurricular activity is all over social media. Maybe we should move up the press conference before—oh. I’m sorry to interrupt. Vivienne Grant. Head counsel. You must be the reason I’m earning my money today.”

  The woman was sharp. Or perhaps precise was a better term. He almost expected her hand to feel cold and angular, but her palm was surprisingly warm.

  “Aidan Beckett, innocent bystander. Assault is over there icing her knuckles, and the wrongful termination part is all on that guy.” He tipped his head at Max. The slight twitch of the man’s mouth was not lost on him.

  Damn it felt good, the two of them on the same side of trouble again.

  Then Max iced over, and Aidan recognized the glint of danger in his friend’s expression, the one that always sparked when Max dropped the civilized in preparation for battle.

  “The press conference can wait until its scheduled time. Have Sherri get you the camera footage from the reception area and tell Jones’s lawyer to cool his heels. We’ll deal with him tomorrow. Right now, I have important things to worry about.�
�

  Vivienne’s perfectly arched brow lifted, and her gaze fell on Kaylee. “I don’t mean to be indelicate, but are you sure Kaylee is the best person to deal with the fallout from this?”

  That same spark of danger was all over Kaylee’s face when she stood and stared down Max’s head counsel. She was fucking magnificent.

  “Are you questioning my ability to do my job?”

  Aidan got the impression that maybe Vivienne was a little impressed with Kaylee, too. “Not at all. Merely suggesting that some distance might be the best course of action in this case.”

  “Kaylee can handle it.” Max glanced at his lawyer. “If that’s all?” Her dismissal was clear in his tone.

  Vivienne’s nod was sharp. “I’ll take care of Jones.”

  “You always do,” Max added, softening the exchange.

  Aidan crossed his arms, surprised. That Emma was having more of an effect on Max than he’d realized the night he’d met her.

  “Now,” Max said, taking a seat behind his desk, “where were we?”

  Kaylee tossed Aidan a look that dripped with disdain. “Before this morning’s brawl, Aidan was telling me how he bugged my phone yet has nothing to do with the burlesque leak.”

  Oh, she was in the mood for a fight, then. He was more than happy to oblige.

  “Hey, you’re the one who started throwing punches. And I wasn’t telling you that I bugged your phone. I was telling you that I thought someone else bugged your phone. And if I’m right, they could be listening to us right now, so hand it over.”

  Kaylee frowned, leaned back in the chair, and readjusted her ice pack. “Once again, I respectfully decline.”

  So damn stubborn.

  “Remember what you said to me when you found out about the malware? You asked if I hacked Whitfield Industries. I didn’t,” he stressed at the identical dark looks of the Whitfield siblings. “But I did get the spyware I used from Cybercore.”

  “Jesus Christ. Give him the damn phone, Kaylee.”

  Aidan hated that Max’s order held more weight for her than his request, but he supposed he deserved it. She dug it out of her pocket with her good hand and held it toward him. Aidan popped out the battery before placing both pieces on Max’s desk.