Chapter Five
Orion
“I don’t need a ride, I can walk,” Emmy argued, rather pointlessly. She would be getting in the damn car.
“Get in the car, Emerson. Right now.” I yanked the car door open and stared at her expectantly. My driver, Blake, ignited the engine in anticipation.
She lifted her chin in defiance, her eyebrows furrowing as her eyes narrowed into slits. “It’s cute that you think you can order me around.”
“You can either get in willingly, or I can throw you in. The choice is yours, Tesoro .”
Her brows pinched together. “You wouldn’t.”
I stepped towards her. “Try me.”
“You’re being unreasonable,” she snapped, her face still glowing a pretty shade of pink from her earlier comment. I fought the urge to let out a sardonic laugh. Unreasonable was letting the bastard who mugged her, and was likely on his way to his next victim, walk away freely with nothing but a broken nose. “Are you always such an asshole? ”
“Yes, and you should remember that.” No point denying it. Will save us both the angst in the long run. “You know I don’t recall hearing a thank you .”
“ Thank you, ” she bit out. “But what exactly were you doing here? Your office is twenty blocks away.”
Keeping an eye on you. “I was in the area.”
“Vague much?”
“I don’t recall having to account for my whereabouts to you.”
She huffed and stepped back, only to stumble as she tripped over the uneven surface. Those damn shoes. The only thing they were protecting was the damn pavement. I gripped her wrist, stopping her ass from planting on the ground, and pulled her flush against me with an irritated sigh.
This woman.
Her breasts grazed my arm, and my blood heated at the sensation. The sound of the New York traffic drowned into the background, all I could focus on was her breathing coming out in soft pants, how her chest heaved, and how smooth her skin felt.
All dark, dangerous thoughts that had no business being in my mind.
Atlas’ little sister.
Atlas’ little sister.
Emmy gaped at me, fury married the heat in those aquamarine eyes. “Get. In.” The words came out sharper than intended, but the little spitfire finally did as told and climbed into the backseat.
“Why don’t you go play fetch with the stick up your ass,” she muttered under her breath, and it took everything I had to hold back my laugh.
“I heard that.”
“Well, I wasn’t exactly whispering.”
I swear to the high fucking heavens.
Sitting beside her, I asked Blake to drop her home and we remained in silence for the duration of the journey.
She stared out the window, her shoulders tight and her face stoic, purposefully ignoring my presence. If she thought her indifference made me feel uncomfortable, she was sorely mistaken. I didn’t care one bit. The less communication between us the better. The only thing pissing me off was that I hadn’t broken that dickhead’s legs before he attempted to rob someone else.
If Emerson wanted to hate me for keeping her safe, so be it. I could quite happily live with that— it would make it easier for me to avoid her where possible because I didn’t entirely trust myself around her. She had this way of dangling the thread of my self-control in front of my face before yanking it away, only endangering herself in the process. Hating me worked, it would save us both.
Besides, it’s not like I asked to play the damn superhero role, anyway.
“Keep an eye on Emerson,” I ordered Hague, putting the call on speakerphone while I grabbed my keys and wallet. “And have Doug run a background check on the Campbells.”
“On it,” he replied, and I shut off the call.
I stormed out of the penthouse and made my way to the garage, unlocking the R8 Spyder. It was the V10 Carbon Black Edition which had set me back a whopping $140,000, but she was a beauty that went from 0-60 mph in 3.2 seconds, and I made that kind of money in a week, so I didn’t give a shit about the price.
People who say money doesn’t bring happiness—well, they were usually the people who didn’t have money. While I agreed that money didn’t necessarily bring me joy, I grew up without a dime, and though I was still the same cold-hearted bastard I was when I didn’t have a cent, I was now a comfortable cold-hearted bastard.
You could argue that my fucked-up childhood was the reason I was miserable as a kid, and it definitely was, but I would need an entire year to unpack that shit and who’s got that kind of time? Not me.
A few minutes later, I was speeding down the streets of New York, a muscle ticking in my jaw as I headed to my evening plans. There were few women who accepted what I liked in bed, Rachel Brooks, daughter of Congressman, Michael Brooks, being one of them.
I didn’t do the soppy shit. No kissing, no cuddling, no sweet nothings, no expectations. Rachel understood and accepted that. Maybe she wanted the ego boost of being one of the select few women I associated with, especially after being named New York’s most eligible bachelor by Forbes , but honestly, I didn’t give a shit what her reasons were.
I pulled up outside the Conrad Hotel, throwing my keys to the waiting valet as I fastened the buttons of my jacket. I never brought women home, always booking a hotel room for the night instead. My home was my sanctuary, my piece of calmness in the chaos that happened to be my life.
Only a handful of people knew where I lived, and I liked it that way. The last thing I needed was a woman hoping to be more than a night of fucking to show up at my door, demanding to know why I hadn’t called her back.
The hotel bar was buzzing with excitement, guests clinking their drinks and chatting away. A saxophonist played in the background, drowning out the incessant laughter. The dim lighting reflected from the hanging chandeliers, creating a moody atmosphere.
My gaze flittered between the seated guests before landing on the familiar platinum hair and cat-like brown eyes in the far corner. Dressed in a strapless, black minidress that was short enough to be considered a top, six-inch heels, and her lips painted a vibrant shade of red, she had clearly made an effort tonight.
I half chuckled to myself as her eyes twinkled when they landed on me. Her tongue trailed her lower lip before she pulled them into a bright smile and fluttered her lashes. “Orion,” she purred. “I’m glad you called.”
“Rachel.” Sliding onto the velvet bench across from her, I noticed she ordered me a drink. I arched my brow as I brought it to my lips, she knew I didn’t have any interest in the talking aspect of our arrangement, but I let it slide. The sweet alcohol burned my throat, and it was exactly what I needed after this week with Emmy.
I bowed my chin. “You look well.” She looked the same as she always did.
She blushed, leaning forward onto her forearms, providing me with an unobstructed view of her tits. “I’ve just gotten home from the Seychelles,” she said. “I took a few of the girls on the jet and we had the best few weeks there.” Still living off daddy dearest, then. Some women thrived off education and independence, whereas others thrived off burning the cash in their father’s wallet.
Not like Emmy who worked hard for her bachelor’s and—
Nope. Not going down that road.
I had made plans with Rachel to forget about Emmy for the night, not compare notes over the two. Not that there was any compe—
Stop it.
I nodded, an effortless attempt to signify that I gave a shit. “Sounds… lovely.”
She grinned, accepting my answer for more than what it was. She reached out her hand, gently trailing her finger along the back of my hand as her foot seductively glided up the stretch of my pants. “I think you’d have liked the swimsuits I wore.”
I smirked, faking an interest as I took another swig of my drink. “I’m sure.”
My eyes retracted to her finger caressing my skin. What was once a promise of what was to come, making my cock usually swell at the thought, now had my stomach coiling with disgust. Moving my gaze to her cleavage, I waited for the heat to prickle at my skin with anticipation.
Nothing. I was as soft as a damn cotton ball.
Rachel’s skin flushed a faint pink beneath my scrutiny. I’d only planned to see her so I could drown my frustrations in uncomplicated, heated sex. But sitting across from her now, even the prospect of sex with another woman wasn’t able to blur Emmy from my mind.
For fuck’s sake.
I wasn’t ready to admit defeat. “Let’s go.”
Rachel’s excited giggle rang in my ears as I pulled her to her feet and led her away from the bar. The sharp clicking of her heels against the marble surface followed behind me as she tried to keep up with my long strides.
“Did you get the key?”
“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “Room 827.”
I nodded, pressing the button for the 8 th floor as the elevator doors dinged open. Rachel leaned into me when I pressed against the elevator wall, her chest heaving, and her face clouded with anticipation as her fingers made a slow, languorous journey down my chest.
I wondered what Emmy’s hands would feel like—
Rachel. Focus on Rachel.
I observed her in silence, my gaze narrowing in on her teeth grazing her scarlet bottom lip. There was no denying Rachel was beautiful, with her long blonde hair and curvy silhouette, but any appreciation I had for her highly maintained appearance seemed to have dissipated the same way my admiration for most materialistic commodities eventually did.
With any luck, my attraction toward Emerson would fade away too.
“Is something wrong?”
Yes, I have a little spitfire haunting my thoughts. “No.”
The elevator came to a stop and a few short seconds later, we were in one of the 1,500-square-foot Conrad suites overlooking the city skyline. Dripped in plush grays, soft beiges, and ebony wood, the room screamed every bit of the $4,000 it cost me for the night.
I dragged my gaze over her exposed, tanned skin and skin-tight black dress until I met a pair of chocolate eyes staring back at me expectantly.
Not an ounce of need curled in my stomach.
“Undo my belt.” My order came out harsher than usual, but aggravation was cemented deep in my veins, and I was on edge, desperately hoping for the exhilaration to sweep through me once she was on her knees.
Rachel lowered herself, a flirtatious smile drawn on her lips and darkened eyes hinting at her enthusiasm. Her hand leisurely grazed over my crotch as she reached for my belt, and the continuous absence of heat prickling against my skin had me grinding my molars into ashes.
Her dainty hands went to pull my cock from my boxers, but then she hesitated. “What’s wrong?” Her eyes clashed with mine, confusion lined her brow.
My jaw ticked. “Nothing.”
Great, my cock is officially broken.
“Are you not into this?” Her voice cracked with the jagged edges of annoyance.
I sighed and pulled her to her feet, my darkened mood killing the last shred of drive in me. “It’s not you, I just have a lot on my mind.”
Namely, I’m insanely attracted to my best friend’s little sister, and I can’t do a damn thing about it.
She leaned closer, her palms pressed against my chest. “Then let me distract you.”
“Rachel—”
She pushed me back onto the edge of the bed and straddled my thighs. Her fingers found the buttons of my shirt, aimlessly fiddling with the loops, and as much as I admired her persistence, it was clear the sudden determination had everything to do with the hit to her own confidence and had little to do with me.
Women like Rachel were used to being drooled over and this would be quite the blow to her ego.
Her low, throaty voice cut me off, “ Shh .”
She was grinding her hips into me as her lips descended my neck, softly caressing my skin with the swirl on her tongue and the gentle grazing of her teeth. “Look, Rachel. It’s not happening tonight. ”
She ignored me and spread my shirt open, her mouth traveling down my chest, leaving ruby smears wherever they touched. Her hand returned to my pants for a moment before her frustrated groan sliced over my skin.
Her lips left my chest, and she leveled me with a flushed glare. “You know what?” she bit out, standing to her feet and straightening her dress. “Why don’t you fix whatever seems to be distracting you from me , then give me a call.”
After receiving the background report on Thomas Campbell, the father of Emerson’s designer friend, I arranged for a meeting with him at my office. Turns out the insurance business wasn’t as mundane as you’d initially think. At least, not for Campbell here. Conveniently, he had quite the desire to implement De Luca Securities into his office and home.
Thomas Campbell sat across from me with his salt and pepper hair slicked back, gray stubble dusting his chin, a sharp navy suit, and a gold signet ring caressing his finger. Couldn’t be much older than his late fifties, though the furrowed lines in his forehead and the grooves in his face made him seem far older.
Pissing off your investors will do that to you.
“I must admit, I was delighted to hear back from your team. I’d started to give up hope of you returning my calls.” His voice was scratchy, likely due to years of chain smoking. That much was clear when the stale odor followed him into my office.
I rarely sat down with new De Luca clients, but in order to keep Emerson safe while we were finding out more about him , it was essential to keep everyone in her life in my back pocket. While Thomas was dependent on De Luca Securities to keep his investors off his back and protect him from the mark on his head, it eliminated the odds of the Campbells being used as a pawn in his game, whatever game that may be.
My lips curled into a fake smile. “I’ve recently had a change in my assistants,” I lied, leaning forward onto my desk and leveling with him. I knew he’d been calling; I just didn’t have any interest in helping him out. Until now. “What is it you were hoping to discuss?”
He shuffled in the brown leather chair, scratching the side of his head in trepidation. There was no greater hit to a man’s pride than having to lay your issues on the table for another man to solve.
Well, except for finding another man in your marital bed, but he was safe on that account considering she ran off years ago.
“The shareholders of Cammax are getting slightly… restless,” he breathed out, a subtle pink hue creeping up his cheeks. “A few business dealings have gone south, and we’re not as liquid as we once were. Many of us have been required to act as a personal guarantor on the loans we’ve acquired for the business, and now the banks are starting to knock.”
Idiots .
The stupidest thing you could do in business was to put your personal assets up as a guarantee.
It was the difference between your company failing but being able to salvage your affairs and start again or being declared bankrupt by the US Government and losing every cent you own. “That doesn’t sound too good, Campbell, quite a mess you’re in there.”
He hummed his agreement. “Everyone is pissed,” he paused as he coughed, spluttering into a handkerchief he pulled from his welt pocket. “And as I had a hand to play in the recent bad business dealings, I’ve heard talks of being pushed out. Not only that, and forgive me if I sound absurd, but I’m fairly certain I’m being followed.”
He wasn’t absurd, and he was being followed. There was a hit out on his head on the black market, likely ordered by one of his fellow shareholders. Campbell’s net worth wasn’t billions, but his estate was certainly enough to clear the debts of his company if he sold his assets. Of course, he wouldn’t do that. Campbell had grown accustomed to his lavish lifestyle, there wasn’t a chance in Hell he’d give it up. But with Campbell dead? The investor sharks could claim from his estate and would stop breathing down the shareholders’ backs.
“I see.” My fingers drummed against the side of my whiskey glass, I could make this disappear in a matter of days with little effort. Did I want to? Fuck no. But Atlas left me in charge of ensuring Emmy’s safety, and I took my responsibilities seriously. “I’m going to need a list of the shareholders’ names, a detailed report of how much the company owes, and a copy of each contract signed where you’ve listed your personal assets as security.”
“I can arrange for everything to be sent to you in the morning.”
“One of my men, Romain, will take over as your head of security for the time being until we have this mess straightened out. He’ll also be installing a new security system in your home,” I said matter-of-factly, leaving little room for argument. Not that I anticipated much of one, the man was seconds away from melting into a pile of goo on my damn seats. “In a week or so, it’ll be like this never happened.”
Campbell’s expression softened as he met my gaze, his face and posture instantly relaxing. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
I leaned back, picking up my glass of whiskey and draining the rest of the Macallan. “No need.” I assessed him with narrowed eyes. “Consider it a favor for our newest client.”
A triumphant smile spread across Thomas’ face before he spent the next twenty minutes boring the living daylights out of me with his shop talk. I didn’t give a flying fuck about insurance, and right now I wanted him to leave my damn office so I could stew in peace.
My fingers were itching to unlock my phone and check on Emmy. The need to do so irritated me as much as it baited me. It was way past 9 p.m., she was probably curled up on the sofa watching those stupid true crime shows she seemed to love so much. But there was also every chance she wasn’t. She could have company. Male company. She knew Atlas didn’t want her bringing any guys home, but Emmy was hardly a stickler for the rules .
A dangerous rhythm pulsed behind my temple at the thought. If Emerson had a guy over, I’d castrate the fucker while making her sit there and watch. Inexplicable fury rocketed up my spine as images of Emmy—my best friend’s sister for fuck sake—touching another man slammed into my mind.
“…be going.”
Finally . Thomas stood, stretching out his palm to shake my hand. “I’ll have the paperwork sent to you in the morning. Say, we should celebrate our new arrangement. My daughter happens to be opening her first store tomorrow, she’s a designer.” His eyes brimmed with pride as I shook his hand. “You should swing by. Models and alcohol, what more can a man ask for, eh?” he chuckled.
My mood darkened further when I remembered Emmy was one of the models, and she would be wearing God knows what. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what would be going through every red-blooded male’s mind when she strutted down whatever makeshift catwalk her friend had created.
Sex . Over my dead damn body.
“I’ll be there.”