In other words, have some patience. Of which he had none. Never had. Never will. “Well show him in goddamnit.”
Ralph took off. Bruno went to the bar and said something to the ladies. They stopped what they were doing and headed to the back. Bruno’s gaze lingered, but on which one?
Julius strode through the room like he owned the place, which he could a thousand times over. It would be so easy to hate his guts, and Emmet’s guts, and Davien’s, and Lawson’s, and Nasir’s, but the friendship went deeper than money and petty jealousy because one had a dad, went home every holiday from the boarding school, and had money.
They were his friends when he didn’t have shit, not even a last name. He was a nobody amongst a bunch of boys destined to be a billionaire, a sheikh, the best hitman in the business, and a king.
And even with all the shit he’d accumulated and the last name he stole, he was still a nobody.
“Why are you staring at me like I lifted your wallet?” Julius snapped, standing in front of him.
“What are you talking about?”
“You with the look, eyeballing me.” Julius unbuttoned his jacket.
“Wondering if you know what to do with that gun you have poorly hidden on your left side. Since when do you carry?”
“Since taking two bullets and being in a gun battle.” Julius slid into the booth.
Julius just had to remind Harden of the two bullets he’d taken on the sidewalk. Harden had thought the hit had been on him. Wrong. Fucking stepmommy had a hard-on for Julius. Harden should’ve seen that coming. His bad that he hadn’t. “About time you start carrying. You know how to use it?”
“Want to test me? Get an apple and put it on your head.”
Harden barked a sharp, short laugh. “I’ll text you my tailor’s number. He’ll make you a better suit than that Saville Row crap you wear.”
“You do that.”
“Want a drink?” Harden didn’t wait for an answer to signal Bruno.
“Yeah. I need one.”
“Then stop bitching.” Bruno brought over a couple of glasses and a bottle of Macallan and sat on the edge of the booth. Julius sat on the opposite end and said nothing as Harden poured two fingers into a tumbler.
Julius tossed the aged liquor to the back of his throat and swallowed in one hard gulp. Bruno did the same while Harden sipped. He waited until Julius reached for another pour to say, “Where’s Emmet?”
“Here.”
The bastard appeared out of thin air like a damned ghost. Harden’s drink sloshed over the rim, onto his hand. Julius choked. Bruno reached for his gun.
Emmet pulled his weapon first. A Glock with a silencer attached. It was a thing of beauty. Bruno moved his hand off his weapon and refreshed his glass.
“How the fuck you get in here?” And from the back no less.
“You rely too much on people,” Emmet said to Harden.
“You’re telling me I need a piece of shit alarm?”
“I’m not telling you anything. Just an observation.” Emmet tucked his gun away. He grabbed a chair from a nearby table, spun it, and sat, his jacket open. Easy access to an array of weapons concealed on his body. It wasn’t the first time Harden wished Hank had also taken him out of boarding school when he apprenticed Emmet.
“Why are you two darkening my door?” Harden asked.
Emmet’s steely gaze landed on Bruno like a foot landing on an ant, and stayed.
“Whatever you have to say, go ahead,” Harden said. “I trust him.”
“I don’t.” Emmet didn’t waste time explaining, and he didn’t have to. Their circle of trust had a select few and there weren’t any openings.
Harden tipped his head at his second. Bruno exited without complaint. “This had better be good.” Harden split his attention between Emmet and Julius certain he was about to get an earful.
“Alezandar Karpovilov,” Julius started. “You know of him?”
Stupid fucking question. Who didn’t know the name of the head of the Russian mafia. He wasn’t the only head. Russia was a big fucking country. Karpovilov controlled the northern oil rich region. And Harden’s the one who had brought Karpovilov to Julius’ attention. “Yeah.”
“He’s going to die,” Emmet said instead of “I’m going to kill him,” which would’ve been more accurate.
Harden didn’t need the clarification. He got the gist immediately. “Whoa! Whoa! Why are you heading to Russia to behead a hydra? You know they have more than one head, right? And killing one won’t get you a reward from the others. It’ll get you dead, and your family dead, and anyone who knew you dead.” These two had lost their damned minds. He was not signing off on this shit.
“He has Lynda Morgan whispering in his ear, giving him hope of breaking into the U.S. market and going legit through my company.” It was a guess, but a damned good one.
“Through Joshua after you’re dead.” Harden surmised. He didn’t need his hand held to do the math. One plus one equaled two. Lynda plus Alezandar equaled Joshua inheriting Morgan International and a huge stake in Bryn Conglomerate. Plus, with the two companies on American soil and the unfettered wealth of both, Karpovilov would flood the underworld. The landscape of New York and multiple other cities would change forever. The old hag couldn’t be happy just being a kept woman. Disgusted, Harden slammed his fist on the table. “I told you to let me kill that boy.”
“That is an acceptable option.” Emmet glanced at his watch.
“No one is killing my brother,” Julius said dryly.
Harden met Emmet’s gaze. If it came down to it, Joshua would be fitted with a cement suit and have a permanent residence in the Hudson. “If Karpovilov has your head in his sights, you’re gonna need more than three bodyguards. You’re gonna need an army,” Harden said. A big one.
“No, he’s not.” Emmet corrected Harden. “Karpovilov can’t use blunt force if he expects to waltz in and take over an American company. The government, for all its ineptitude, won’t allow it.”
Killing Karpovilov would open new territory. I’d have to move quickly during the upheaval to claim his territory in upper Manhattan and The Bronx. Not too quickly and risk alerting Karpovilov to his imminent demise.
“A reliable source whispered in my ear they’re headed to Saudi Arabia in a few months. Things like that take months to plan. Of course, it’s all hush-hush, and not because of the bad press it would generate. The oil people are meeting, informally, to manipulate the stock. Davien will be there, along with Nasir. Supposedly, he’s there meeting his future wife that his granddaddy picked.”
Emmet’s gaze shifted to Julius. “You need a few people and to stay low. In America. No going overseas. You and your brother.”
Harden laughed, cutting off whatever Julius was about to say. “Oh, didn’t you hear? Julius went forth and prospered, literally. He’s spawning young.” A brutal assessment, though accurate.
Harden didn’t expect the fraction of a smile to break the usual grim line of Emmet’s mouth. “Congrats, man! It’s the woman from the yacht, correct?”
Sheepishly, Julius nodded. “Calista.” Julius turned to Harden. “I already told him, asshole.”
Harden wanted to puke and not over being made a fool. He should’ve known. Emmet had lost his shit over Hank’s daughter, and now Julius had succumbed to a worse insanity. Whatever virus they’d caught had better stay the fuck away from him. He wanted no part of the spreading domestication.
The two embraced for hard pats on the back.
“I claim uncle rights.” Harden got in before Emmet had any ideas, which earned him a scowl from their resident hitman.
“Expect an appearance from an associate of mine. Hire him.” Emmet ordered. “I’m off-grid. Don’t contact me for any reason, and don’t expect quick results. I’m not landing in Russia with guns blazing. This is going to take time.”
“How much time?” Julius pressed.
“Longer than I would like.” Emmet spun and headed for the
exit, this time at the front of the club.
“I’m leaving with you.” Julius buttoned his jacket.
Harden wouldn’t have minded if they stayed longer. It had been too long since they were together, talking shit without life and death in the balance, and that wasn’t counting all of them. He missed them, all his brothers, though he wouldn’t admit it to their faces.
Julius’ phone rang before he took a step. He glanced at the screen and his demeanor changed from wariness to tense. He answered with a curt, “What?” Then his head jerked as if hit with an uppercut. “What the fuck do you mean she’s gone? You told me she was home and now she’s at the airport! …Why the fuck did she go to the airport? …Meet me at the jet.”
Emmet chuckled as Julius ended his call. “Keep your woman under control, Julius.”
“Worry about your own woman,” Julius snarled and headed for the exit.
“I don’t have to worry about my woman. She knows her place.” Emmet trailed Julius.
Alone once again, Harden poured himself another drink and saluted his friends, ever so glad he had no such complications as a female or a heart. Both would lead a man to ruin.
Chapter Eighteen
“T hat’s it. I’m not going back. Call the husband and the kids. Tell ’em I ain’t coming home. I’m moving here.” Laverne plucked the pink umbrella from her drink and stuck it in her updo.
“No problem. Sounds epic.” Calista sat back in her chair pleasantly stuff. The grilled snapper with mango salsa and sautéed vegetables was perfect for the warm October night.
“Happy birthday, cuz, and thanks for letting me tag along.” Laverne raised her margarita in salute.
Calista studied her cousin’s slightly inebriated composure and snorted. Laverne had never been so relaxed in her life. She needed this mini-getaway and Calista was happy to provide it. She needed it too, especially after the upheaval in her life. A long weekend in the Cayman Islands, away from Julius, Scotts, and the other man her baby daddy had following her was enough.
She had called Laverne, told her the plan and didn’t have to twist her arm. All both needed were their passports. Calista had booked two first-class tickets and expected a phone call from Julius demanding details. He sprouted all this bullshit about wanting to be in the kid’s life and didn’t call to see if she was okay. What? They didn’t have phone service in California?
Well, she wasn’t okay. She was fucking perfect!
Calista raised her glass of guava juice. “You’re welcome, again, and happy birthday to me.”
“Here’s to your last worry-free birthday.”
Calista laughed and saluted her cousin. It wouldn’t be life if you didn’t have something to worry about. As of four o’clock that afternoon, money wasn’t one of those worries. She had gone to the bank and transferred three million from her father’s account into her own offshore account. The next stop on the banking world tour—Luxembourg.
“Are you going to tell me why your phone is off?”
“Huh? Is it?” Calista played stupid and reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. “It is off. Wow.” She tossed it back into her purse without turning it on.
Laverne rolled her eyes. “You’re a good liar…to those that don’t know you.” She popped a shrimp into her mouth. “But I know you and there’s only one reason your phone is off. You’re avoiding someone, and it’s not the contractor you hired to renovate the house. You’re avoiding a tall, very good-looking billionaire who knocked you up. I wanna know if I have to go bang on his door and kick his ass, or are you being an idiot?”
Idiot.
She fished her phone out and pressed the power button. Neither said a word as the screen came on and the device slowly updated. And guess what, she hadn’t a single call in the last six hours. Not one after the initial flurry which had forced her to turn it off.
“You want to bang on his door and kick his ass, go right ahead.” Calista would love to see that. Hell, she’d sell tickets.
“The last time you saw him was at the sonogram, right?”
Great, now she had Laverne stalking her. “No. He’s been here since then.” Every day actually until his California trip. They’d had the official sonogram three days ago before he left. Placement of the embryo was fine. IUD wasn’t found. Was it there? Was it gone? No idea. But the baby was good…for now.
“You don’t want to share, fine.” Laverne picked up her drink and sat back in her chair. “Tell me about the renovation.”
“All the permits were approved. Fast-tracked. It’s so easy when you have the money for that. The contractor and architect are on the same page and everything is proceeding. The gutting will start in a week and the renovation right after. Everything brand new. I can’t wait to see it done.”
“Where are you going to live in the meantime?”
Calista shrugged. She hadn’t gotten that far. The furthest her brain had processed was hiring help to organize and pack what needed to go into storage. “A hotel.”
Skeptical, Laverne scoffed. “Okay. I can buy what you’re selling, but do you plan on living there afterward?”
Calista shrugged. “Maybe. If I want.”
Laverne planted her elbows on the table and pointed at Calista. “You’re a millionaire. You are not going to live in a three-bedroom home in Queens with a baby. You’re asking to be kidnapped.” Her voice shook. “You should move into the townhouse Harvey left you. You and the baby will be safer there.”
No way in hell. “I am not living in my father’s house. As soon as probate is over, it’s going on the market.”
“Sight unseen?”
“I saw it.” The last time she saw Harvey was in that house. No. She’d never live there. “It goes on the market.”
“Alright. But I refuse to let you live in that house.”
As if Laverne could stop Calista… sigh. Yeah, she could.
So, if Calista wasn’t allowed to live in the only home she’d ever known, where was she going to live, especially when money wasn’t an obstacle?
“Have you been back to Bryn Co.?”
“Yeah. Everyone stared at me.” She heard the whine in her voice and winced. “I don’t know when I’m going back.”
Laverne shook a finger at her and tsked. “Just because you made a spectacle of yourself at the charity event, doesn’t mean you can skip class, young lady.”
“Screw you.” Calista gave her the middle finger salute.
“I’m gonna teach your kid to do that!”
“The hell you are.”
The two deteriorated into giggles. Calista was sober. Laverne wasn’t.
“Look,” Laverne started. “Pull your big girl panties up and march back in there.”
Calista swallowed her sharp reply, hating that Laverne wasn’t wrong. She had to go back.
“Was your sister mean to you? Is that why you don’t want to go? I can kick her ass if you want me to?”
“That’s your go-to, kicking ass, when you’ve never kicked anyone’s ass in your life.”
“But the threat works.” Laverne snickered, then sobered. “You don’t have to like her, but you do have to work with her. Or against her. Pick one.”
God, she hated when her cousin was right. “She’s bossy.” Calista whined. Laverne was the only person she could whine to.
“Really? And you’ve never had to deal with a bossy woman?” Laverne said dramatically.
“No. Never.” Calista rolled her eyes and they succumbed to another round of laughter.
“Girl. There are millions on the line. And frankly, she needs you. Maybe not right now, but eventually, she will. That’s when you give her your ass to kiss.” Laverne picked up her mango piña colada and saluted.
Pearls of wisdom from her drunk cousin. Calista raised her guava juice in homage.
Laverne downed the rest of her drink, then shouted, “Bartender! Another round!”
C alista entered her suite and kicked off her strappy sandals. She stretched her
toes and flexed her arches, then enjoyed the cool tiles on her bare soles as she hit the bathroom first. Her damned bladder was about to explode. It had to be the twentieth time today she had to take a whizz. Only eleven o’clock and she was exhausted. Her party days were over. Laverne didn’t protest when Calista called it a night. Her old butt was just as exhausted.
The heated jacuzzi tub called to her. She always wanted to redo her bathroom with a jacuzzi tub but never thought she could afford it. So many other priorities had claimed every dime she had. Now, she had one priority.
She hated Laverne being right. Living in her old house wasn’t an option. That didn’t mean she was renovating to sell it. No. Wherever she lived, her mother’s house would stay in the family. She’d rent it out. Maybe Jentry would like to live there.
As the tub filled, Calista untied the bow at her waist. The pretty sundress she bought at the street fair upon arrival on the island fluttered to the floor. Steam swirled around her nudity. Her thighs and hips, her waist and the underside of her breasts, stroked her cleavage, and curled around her neck.
Staring into the bathroom mirror it wasn’t hard to pretend Julius was here, standing behind her. His hands on her body, touching, teasing, resting on the slight bump between her hips.
Twelve weeks along and it was barely noticeable, only a firm roundness that was suddenly there. At any given moment, she found herself rubbing her bump. Her thoughts invariably on him or her. The initial panic was still there but had diverted to worries over the health of her child.
For nine weeks she was oblivious, had no clue she had a hitchhiker. She drank, a lot. What better way to mute a broken heart than to drown it with alcohol and sober up with coffee? Two items not on the diet for pregnant women. Now, no alcohol, no caffeine, no sugar, no processed food, everything organic. All she could do was hope it was enough and pray she hadn’t screwed up her kid before it was even born.
A liberal pour of lemongrass bath oil and she slipped into the steamy water. “Ohhhh.” She sighed and submerged to her chin. Heaven. That’s all she could think of partially seated on the built-in bench, her head tilted back, her eyelids heavy. The heat seeped all the way to her bones and soothed the stress of the day away.
Plain and the Billionaire's Seduction (Plain Jane Series Book 3) Page 13