To Catch A Rook (All The Queen’s Men #1)

4. Chapter 1 - Hillary

“ A nother, Ms. Lane?”

Jeremy, the head bartender of Quintessence and certainly the best martini mixer in all of Carlisle, stared back at me, his tawny eyes filled with a mixture of kindness and pity.

“No.”

My response was sharper than I’d intended. Twinges of regret pricked my senses, and I reconsidered my tone. It wasn’t Jeremy’s fault Kellan had stood me up. Again.

My blond, tattooed, on-again, off-again Viking was one of the best lays I’d ever had, but his work schedule made h im incredibly unreliable, and I wasn’t the ‘doting wife’ type. A few meet-ups a year, but he still couldn’t show up with any regularity.

It was frustrating, but even more frustrating was to admit I’d been looking forward to this date all week. Kellan had crept under my skin like his own tattoo, and I was going to need that lasered off as soon as possible before it embedded any further.

“No, thank you , Jeremy.”

I forced a smile on my lips that wouldn’t meet my blue eyes and placed my credit card on the counter. “Just bill me for the martini, please.”

Jeremy waved a delicate hand dismissively, as if I wasn’t the wealthiest person who came through the doors.

“Your money is no good here, Miss Lane. You know that. Winter would have my job.”

I stifled an eye roll and picked my black AMEX back up from the polished mahogany bar-top. Winter Wallace, my exasperating best friend and part-owner of the club, was constantly ignoring the fact that I could buy all of her clubs and half of the buildings in this city, refusing to let me pay for anything all because I had gifted her a house one time.

Gifts didn’t come with required reciprocation. They were gifts. Even after six years, my money still wasn’t accepted here. Her stubbornness couldn’t match mine, however, and I’d found a way around it.

Guess that’s another contribution to little Noble’s trust fund.

I couldn’t contain the satisfied smirk that spread across my features; if her business wouldn’t take my money, her son surely would—when he turned twenty-one. That was twenty years away, so I had lots of time to turn martini payments into a small fortune.

I respected my best friend, but I enjoyed winning a little more. And I always won.

“ Now, what’s that devious little grin about?”

A smooth, masculine tenor with a strong Irish lilt slid over me like a soothing blanket. The warm presence slid onto the bar stool to my left as an intoxicating mix of cedar trees and something sweet overtook my senses.

A witty comeback sat on the tip of my tongue, but I stopped short when the visage of dark auburn hair and twinkling sea-glass eyes stared back at me.

My assessing gaze took in his solid frame; strong shoulders and molded biceps outlined in a tight, brown leather jacket, a tapered waist and thick thighs perfectly stuffed into tight dark jeans, and a simple, silver Celtic cross pendant hung around his neck.

Attractive didn’t do him justice, but not in the traditional suit-men that made up my day to day. This man was a diamond in the rough; unpolished perfection.

And bold, if he thought hitting on me was a wise choice.

“Ahhh, the beautiful blonde is checking me out.” The mystery man grinned, showcasing perfectly straight teeth set in full, stubble-accented lips. “Jeremy, it’s my lucky day.”

He tipped an imaginary hat to the familiar bartender as a whiskey tumbler slid down the bar into his open palm.

So, a regular, then. Funny how I’d never seen him before. Not that I was here often enough to be classified as a regular , but I was on a first-name basis with most of the staff. That wasn’t unique to my businesses, though.

“I appreciate fine works of art,” I retorted smoothly, pausing to get off my stool. “I’d say you’re more of the Picasso variety, though.”

His booming laugh resonated deep in my bones. It was infectious; I couldn’t stop the twitch of my own lips at his sly smile.

“And Blondie’s got jokes. Forgive me for saying so, but you don’t look t he type.”

He took a long pull of his drink and wriggled a single eyebrow at me. I took it for the challenge it was and stood tall against the bar beside him.

It was rare that a man had the balls to talk to me from a cold call. The men I usually encountered were far too confident, thinking the size of their bank account was equivalent to the size of their dick. Or they had no confidence at all—sweaty, fumbling idiots, terrified to talk to me.

This guy already walked the line of indifferent and brazen, and I was intrigued to find I liked it.

Jeremy stopped wiping a crystal decanter with his cloth and raised a disbelieving eyebrow in our direction.

“I don’t believe Miss Hillary Lane has ever been called ‘Blondie’ before.” He shook his head with a muted smile as he started on another cocktail order. “I would tread carefully, Lauchlan. She owns this town, and she’ll eat you for dinner.”

I winked at my favorite Martini Man; Jeremy always knew just what to say.

“No shit?” Lauchlan—how stereotypically Irish—cocked his head as those depthless green eyes languidly swept up my body. He had a mastery of how to ogle a woman—his eyes didn’t linger on one part of my body; instead, he roved over each section like I was the work of art, and he was trying to uncover my secrets.

Interesting.

“And here, I thought I would get to have a riveting conversation with a beautiful woman.” He shrugged amicably, taking a long pull of whiskey before flashing me a wide smile. “My loss.”

I swung my legs back up, my curiosity piqued. Very few people in this city didn’t know who I was, which could explain the indifference, but I was willing to learn a little more about the mystery man.

A n ight of banter and sex with a stranger was probably the perfect antidote to Kellan disappointing me. Again.

With Kellan gone and Aaron deep in the trenches of our upcoming merger, the only action I’d been getting lately was from my wand and my egg. I was all for group activities, but I preferred them to be of the human variety.

“Your gain,” I corrected. I lifted my chin in challenge, my eyes adopting my ‘take no shit’ boardroom persona. “Perhaps it is your lucky day. Make me laugh, Lucky, and I’ll buy you a drink.”

I shot a fierce boardroom stare in Jeremy’s direction, too. “And you will take my money if I buy this man a drink, Jeremy.”

He held my gaze for a brief moment, then silently nodded agreement. He may be afraid of Winter’s wrath, but he was more fearful of me in that moment.

I softened my glare and shot the generally kind bartender a quick wink before I shifted my attention back to Lucky, the sexy leprechaun.

“Okay, Lauchlan ”—I emphasized his name, though I preferred my nickname much better—“how is it you’re a regular and I’ve never seen you before?”

Another dazzling grin lit up his face and his eyes sparkled with mischief. I was dead-spot-on with the leprechaun persona.

“I’m not a regular. At least, not yet.” He shifted his body to face me, resting his head on his raised palm with an amused smile. “Jeremy and I met yesterday, didn’t we, Jer-Bear?”

Jeremy shot an unamused glare in Lauchlan’s direction, but said nothing, his hands busy making my second dirty martini.

Lauchlan shrugged at the lack of response with another booming laugh, his lazy wink sending a current of desire down my spine.

“ Nah, love. I just moved over the pond from Dublin. Da passed, so I came to be closer to my mumsy.”

“Mumsy?” I cast a dubious eyebrow at the juvenile term. “Are you a twelve-year-old boy, or is that an Irish thing?”

I had visited Ireland a few times to oversee a few takeovers, but I wasn’t an expert on the culture or the slang. I definitely didn’t love the word ‘mumsy’ coming out of a grown man’s sexy lips. I did not have a ‘mommy’ kink.

“You don’t like ‘mumsy’?” Another wink and grin. “Too bad. I was plotting how I could take you home with me tonight to meet her.”

“You live with your mother?” I nearly spat out the sip of the delicious martini. “I don’t think we can continue having this conversation.”

Instead of being insulted, the Irish charmer snorted into his own glass of whiskey.

“I just got here three days ago. I’m looking for a place now. Can’t stay with Mumsy if I want to take a beautiful woman home with me, now, can I?”

Under normal circumstances, I would not give this man a second glance. He was too unassuming, too charismatic. I liked men who were bossy and brash and ruthless. More like me.

But I’d be foolish if I pretended this man wasn’t sex incarnate. I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t want to hop on his dick right now. And I’d be an idiot if I didn’t take advantage of his undivided attention when all I’d have tonight, otherwise, was a date with Mr. Rabbit.

A woman has needs, after all. Still, I wasn’t going to make it easy . Where was the fun in that?

“Why would you assume a beautiful woman would go home with you?” I retorted smoothly, tapping my ruby red nails against the stem of the cocktail glass. “How do you convince the opposite sex to ride the ‘Lucky- train’?”

The air was thickening between us, and the faint scent of juniper and cedar tickled my senses as he leaned closer.

“Oh, not just the opposite sex. I enjoy pleasure in all of its forms, Blondie.” He winked his thick brown lashes before rolling his neck back in a sensual muscle stretch, exposing his Adam’s apple and a strong jawline.

A delicious heat unfurled in my belly as the visual of this naked man taking part in a debauched orgy flashed through my mind.

Dear god, I need to get laid.

Fortunately, my poker face was better than most. Lauchlan couldn’t possibly see the effect he was having on me. I cocked a brow and coolly took another sip of my martini, enjoying the smooth sting as it slid down my throat.

“So, you have the habit of disappointing all genders. That sounds like a poor strategy, Lucky.”

Lauchlan clutched his heart and turned back to Jeremy, who was pretending to be busy on the other side of the bar, but undoubtedly listening in on our chit-chat.

“Jeremy, I think I’m in love. Are you notarized? Can you marry us now before she comes to her senses?”

The dignified man rolled his pale blue eyes. “Make him sign a prenup first, Miss Lane. I have a feeling he’s of the ‘starter-husband’ variety.”

To my surprise, high-pitched giggles erupted from my chest and I clapped my hands over my mouth to keep them contained. I didn’t giggle, not unless my best friend and I had drunk too much wine while watching re-runs of our favorite trash TV.

Lucky-the-leprechaun was turning me into a giggling, silly school-girl. How … refreshing.

It stuck in my throat as my gaze caught on a familiar set of forms making their way toward a rear booth behind the bar. The lightness in my stomach disappeared; a roiling mass o f anger and acid settled into the pit of my stomach instead.

Frederick Lawson, my lawyer, and Aaron Rodriguez, my business associate and sometimes friend-with-benefits, were here together, their heads bowed in apparent deep, quiet discussion.

Frederick wasn’t supposed to be having any discussions with Aaron without me present. Our merger was too sensitive, with too many eyes watching—everything had to be handled with extremely delicate care. I needed to be a part of every single statement.

My heated anger froze into shards of ice when I glimpsed Aaron’s parents, Veronica and Vincente, and their lawyer, Charles Beckwith, walking at a leisurely pace behind them.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Lauchlan held up his hands in a surrender motion as I slipped off the stool, my mouth set in a murderous grimace. “We went from smart-mouthed angel to death-demon in a matter of seconds. What happened?”

“If you’ll excuse me.” I brushed past him, a flirty night of sex no longer my concern or priority. “I have some business to attend to.”

I stomped off to the corner booth, my black Louboutins clacking with menace as I stalked my prey.

I knew my schedule like it was imprinted on my soul, and there hadn’t been a single ‘emergency’ text, call, or email to cross my phone about a meeting today. If they’d reached out to Martin, my executive assistant, he would have been in my ear within seconds—the man was extremely tenacious and valued his job. The audacity of the Rodriguez family to call a meeting without me.

If Frederick hadn’t been with me since college, I would fire him on the spot. His retainer was probably the biggest in the city, and there had better be a t horough and believable explanation for this betrayal, or he would find himself out of this job and entire roster of clients.

You didn’t fuck with Hillary Lane and get the chance to do it to anyone else.

“Excuse me.” I interrupted, not pretending I wasn’t out to kill. Five heads snapped up from their conversations and stared at me.

Frederick’s cheeks bloomed with a sheepish pink. Charles’ crooked teeth flashed in a pompous smirk, while Veronica and Vicente maintained their haughty, pretentious air. Aaron had the intelligence to look somewhat apologetic. For a man with few facial expressions, I would take that for what it was. A caught man and his conniving company.

Billionaires walked a silk tightrope between our friends and enemies. In the years I’d known him, Aaron had become a friend, but his family sat firmly in the enemy camp. Family loyalties were hard to walk away from—I had the jagged scars to prove it—and it was silly to think Aaron would have that luxury.

This move, however, was an act of war.

“So sorry of me, I must have forgotten the invitation to this meeting!” I exclaimed, oozing all the cheerful falsetto I could muster, maintaining my deadliest stare in the process. “How convenient that I was here with a friend when you arrived. I couldn’t imagine what this would look like otherwise.”

I sidled into the booth, next to a very uncomfortable-looking Frederick. “Now, what is it we are all here to meet about?”

I stared expectantly around the table, daring them to speak first. They were now on the chopping block, and they knew it.

I wanted this merger to go through; it would mean hundreds of millions of dollars in shared assets, and push forwar d a better way of doing business. Aaron’s family was the second richest and accomplished in the state next to the Lane fortune. This deal would be in both of our best interests.

But I wasn’t a desperate fool. If I walked away, I’d find other opportunities. I didn’t need them to continue my business efforts and grow my enterprise. But they needed me—and it was time they were reminded of that potent little detail.

“No one?” I asked innocently when not even Charles leapt to speak up. “Frederick, why don’t you start? Why did the Rodriguez family call a meeting again? I seem to have forgotten.”

An awkward throat clearing and a shuffling of papers proceeded the thin, reedy little man’s reply.

“Well, ah, Miss Lane”—another throat clearing—“Charles and the Rodriguez family seem to have a few—ahem— issues with several items in our current agreement, and requested the opportunity to present their concerns in person.”

I slowly swung my head around the table to look each person in the eye. “Oh? How odd. I was under the impression that the terms of the contract were agreed to in full and that the Rodriguez heir was the person of authority to sign on behalf of VVR tall, dark, and handsome, his skin was deeply tanned and his chestnut hair, wavy and chin length, was slicked back and tucked behind his ears. Rich brown eyes with long Latin lashes, full p ink lips and high cheekbones made him pretty to look at, but his cold and detached demeanor made him truly captivating.

He was a man on a pedestal; untouchable and uninterested—but not for me. His careful control shattered when I tied him up, begging me to unleash every depraved fantasy on his beautiful body.

And he was a patsy and a puppet for his power-hungry parents—a scenario I was also used to. My own father had narrowly avoided prison for his power-hungry, money-grubbing schemes. Veronica and Vincente were no different—they just hadn’t gotten caught yet. I’d made it very clear in our contract proceedings I would in no way work with his parents—it was Aaron and his board, or nothing. Apparently, this was their sneaky work-around.

Charles finally grew some testicles to speak. “Miss Lane, as you are aware, Veronica and Vincente, the original Rodriguez founders, are stepping down in order for Aaron to take the helm of the company. Aaron has listened to their reservations about the terms of this agreement and they’ve come to me collectively for counsel. I reached out to Frederick to highlight a few of their concerns.”

“Oh?” I repeated, catching my family’s oldest employee’s eye in question. We would discuss that later—Frederick might be out of a job, after all.

“Let me make this clear for everyone here, so that I do not need to repeat myself.” A shark-like sneer spread across my lips as my gaze trailed around the deathly quiet booth.

“The terms are the terms. They were already agreed to, and I do not take reneging on an agreement lightly. You either move forward, or you don’t. I am not negotiating with you.”

My gaze settled on Aaron’s stony face; I matched his stare with my own. “And you ”—I tilted my head with a condescending smirk—“I can’t continue to see a man who still needs his mommy’s permission to play. Call me when your balls have dropped.”

His cold fury washed over me from across the table, but as usual, he remained mute. I slid out of the supple blue velvet and stood tall in my five-inch heels, straightening my pencil skirt as if this were just a friendly chat.

“Lovely to see you this evening.” I smiled sweetly and wiggled my fingers in a wave. “Frederick, meet me in my office at ten tomorrow, or you’re fired.”

My heels clacked against the lacquered floor once again, but this time, the sound was triumphant. I searched the bar for Lucky for a tasty little celebration fuck, but he was nowhere to be found. I would have to find another way to burn off this exhilaration.

Hello Mr. Rabbit, my old friend.