Chapter 22
22
Atlas
I sat in one of the armchairs in Caleb’s study in Arcadia, my legs kicked out in front of me, a good scotch sitting on a table at my elbow. Ten had the armchair opposite while Caleb lounged on the sofa between us.
We were meeting to discuss Charlotte, though I had a few things of my own to arrange with Cal.
It had been a couple of weeks since Rowan and I had married, and she was now comfortably ensconced in my loft, Cait having taken a room at one of the mental health facilities I’d recommended.
Charlotte had immediately been on Rowan’s case about fertility clinic visits in the days following the wedding, but I’d called her and explained why fertility clinic visits were no longer necessary and I was specific. Charlotte had sounded suspiciously pleased about it, which made no sense to me, but that wasn’t my problem.
My problem was dealing with the blackmail information she was holding over Ten’s head. Something had to be done. I’d been casual about it before, thinking that all it would involve would be a sham marriage, a few sperm samples, and that was it. But things were different now. Rowan was involved and the baby might already be a reality rather than samples in a jar, and I had underestimated my feelings about that. Greatly underestimated, as it turned out.
Bottom line, though, there was no way was I giving up any kid of mine to Charlotte Hamilton.
However, that presented us with a problem, because Charlotte had every conceivable official in the city in her pocket, belonging as she did to one of America’s most famous political dynasties, and the blackmail information she was holding over Ten was real. She could send him to jail and there wouldn’t be a thing Ten, Cal, and I could do about it. We were rich and powerful, sure, but Charlotte had a century or more of wealth and influence behind her, and that was difficult to combat.
“Lawyers,” I said into the silence. “We could tie up the process with appeals and all sorts of bullshit. Could give us time to work something else out.”
“Sure,” Cal murmured. “But any kind of trial and or conviction will involve publicity, and that’ll tank Fox Tech.
He wasn’t wrong, fuck it.
Ten leaned forward, hands clasped. “I should answer for?—”
“No,” I interrupted, knowing already what he was going to say, the self-sacrificing prick. “We’ve had this discussion approximately ten thousand times and it’s still no.”
Ten looked at me, blue eyes like ice. “You do not speak for me, Atlas.”
I leaned forward, mimicking his posture. “And do you remember who helped you cover that shit up? Who will also go down with you?” I stared at him. “You might want to nail yourself to that cross but I don’t, not when I have a wife and possibly a child to protect. Also, I think Zara might have something to say about you and your martyr tendencies, or did you really want to abandon her?”
Ten’s mouth firmed. “Your pretend wife, you mean,” he said, his voice chilly.
“It’s not pretend.” I kept my tone flat. “I’m keeping her and if there’s a child, then the child too.” And there would be a child, of that I had no doubt. Not after the past two weeks.
Something had softened in Rowan, or maybe relaxed was a better word. She’d settled into my house as if she’d been there her entire life, and it made my chest tighten every time I walked in to find her sitting on the couch doing something on her laptop or reading. Sometimes she was cooking and sometimes she was on her phone, talking to Cait. She never seemed to be still. And sometimes — when I’d texted her my instructions — she was waiting naked in the hallway, ready for me when I got home.
Not that she did everything I said without protest. Despite my instructions that there be no arguments, there were plenty of arguments. She was just as fiery as she’d been when she was a teenager, though as an adult she was much spikier, able to find the chinks in my armor with uncanny accuracy and exploit them ruthlessly. I found her infuriating, maddening, and the most exciting woman I’d ever been with, and the pleasure I got from reducing her to a desperate wreck after an argument was astonishing. I’d never had anything like it in my entire life. I actually found myself looking forward to getting home after work to see her, to talk with her, argue with her, and then put her on her knees to give me the most intense pleasure.
Though the best times where when she was lying warm and sleepy in my bed, finally still, finally at rest. Sprawled over my chest, her hair a wild storm around us, tracing circles with her fingertips on my skin.
Don’t forget what she promised you.
Oh, I hadn’t forgotten. Not one word of the conversation we’d had the day after our marriage, with her sitting in my bed and asking me what my fantasy was.
It wasn’t that I hadn’t been asked that before — I had, numerous times — but I’d always replied that it was whatever a woman wanted, which at the time, was true. But Rowan had turned everything on its head.
Public sex wasn’t anything new, I’d done it before. But not with a woman I considered mine. Not deliberately showing her off as a treasured possession, getting everyone to admire her and then proving unequivocally that she only had eyes for me and only I got to touch her. Only I got to possess her. It had lurked in my subconscious for years, never to be acknowledged, another gift from Charles Blackwood.
But Rowan had asked me and the truth had come out, and I’d seen her gaze flicker as I’d told her. She’d been afraid. Of course then she’d tried to deny it, because Rowan was a stubborn woman, but I knew she’d be hesitant. And not just about the public nature of the sex, but about displaying what she thought of as her weaknesses for a whole lot of people to see. Yet, despite her fear there had also been challenge.
I’d told her that she didn’t have to give me anything beyond what she’d already given, and yet when she’d insisted, despite her hesitancy, all I could think about was that she wanted to do this for me. Something she wasn’t comfortable with yet had offered because I wanted it.
You’re not worthy of the offer and you know that.
I shoved the snide voice of my conscience aside. Shit, I knew I wasn’t worthy of it, but I was going to take it anyway, because after years of catering to everyone else’s fantasies, someone was finally going to cater to mine, and I wasn’t a good enough man to refuse.
Ten’s gaze became marginally less chilly. “Fair enough,” he said at last. “I certainly wouldn’t want Zara to get caught in any press backlash and I’m assuming you wouldn’t want that for Rowan either.”
“No. So can we leave aside the self-sacrificing bullshit?”
Ten inclined his head. “Fine. But that leaves us back at square one.”
“I can call some people,” Cal offered. “See if I get anything to use against her.”
Cal had once been an enforcer for a crime lord called Old Nick, the same Old Nick Blackwood Bank had been involved with. He’d then taken over from Old Nick when that prick tried to have Cal killed. Cal didn’t rule that empire now — he’d handed it over to others — but he still had contacts and could get dirty intel that could be useful on occasion.
“Do it,” I said, even though the chances of finding anything on the Hamiltons was slim to nil. They had the resources to cover up anything they didn’t want getting out.
Cal nodded. “Can’t promise I’ll find anything, since I didn’t when we were going through that shit with Isabel.”
“No, they keep their cards close to their vest,” Ten commented.
I looked at Cal. “What about this reunion Isabel keeps talking about? That an opportunity?”
Cal’s dark gaze was enigmatic. “An opportunity for what? I hope you’re not expecting Isabel to intercede for you.”
There was a distinct warning in his voice, but I understood. He and Ten both hated her continued involvement with the Hamiltons and would have infinitely preferred her to not have anything to do with them. However Isabel had wanted to know her mother’s side of the family and she’d been insistent on it. Both of them found it difficult to say no to her, so they’d reluctantly supported her, but that did not extend to Isabel trying to negotiate with Charlotte to give up her intel on Ten. I thought they were overprotective of her and that Charlotte would never do anything to harm her only grandchild, then again I wasn’t either Isabel’s father or currently fucking her. Also, I had the same protective, possessive feelings about Rowan so it wasn’t as if I could talk.
“Clearly not.” I picked up my scotch and took a good long swallow. “But if we could find something on Charlotte before then, it wouldn’t be a bad time for some negotiations. Remind her we’re all family, etcetera.”
“Being family is part of the problem,” Cal said acidly. “With all this baby bullshit, she’s trying to enmesh us into her dynasty and I don’t want a bar of it.”
“Agreed,” Ten said. “But we also don’t want to rush into anything. If we’re dealing with Charlotte, any plans we make will have to be airtight.”
“We have some time,” I pointed out. “Charlotte’s got a whole nine months before she shows up at Rowan’s bedside like fucking Rumplestiltskin and demanding our first born like.”
“Is Rowan pregnant then?” Ten’s stare was very direct.
“I don’t know.” The tight feeling in my chest that I got whenever I thought about the possibility of a child had returned. “She hasn’t taken a test yet. Which means we might have some time. Then again, I don’t know what Charlotte will do once she gets confirmation of a pregnancy.” I gritted my teeth at the thought. “She might very well insist on monitoring Rowan herself since I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t trust us not to plot against her. Which we’re doing right now, of course.”
“Well,” Cal murmured. “Once you get that confirmation, maybe you should move Rowan somewhere else, where Charlotte won’t be able to get to her.”
It was something I’d already thought about and had been considering options, though I hadn’t spoken to Rowan about it yet. She’d no doubt be annoyed about it and would refuse, which would then involve another delicious argument since I wouldn’t no take no for an answer.
Ten’s phone chimed and he grabbed it out of his pocket and glanced down at the screen. The hard cast of his features softened, which was always a giveaway. No doubt Zara had texted him.
“Well, gentlemen, I have to go.” Ten rose to his feet, putting his phone back in his pocket. “Duty calls.”
“Dom duty, hmm?” I murmured, lounging back in my armchair.
“Naturally,” Ten said. “The little sub is impatient and I hate to keep her waiting.”
“Off you go,” Cal said. “We’ll reconvene about this subject later.”
After Ten had gone, I took another sip of scotch and finally broached the other topic I’d been meaning to talk to Cal about, my fantasy. I gave him a quick rundown on what I was thinking, and whether he could arrange it at Arcadia.
“You sure?” Cal asked when I’d finished. “I mean, I can organize it and you know it’s not the first time we’ve done something like that here. The real question is can your girl handle it.”
I thought about Rowan and the flicker of fear and uncertainty in her eyes as I’d told her what I wanted. Then of the fire that had replaced the uncertainty as I’d crushed her into the mattress afterwards. She thought her desperation for me was a weakness, but it wasn’t. She just had strong feelings, was fiery and passionate, and to be honest, it was when she truly embraced those feelings that she found her true strength. That’s when she set me on fire.
What would it be like for her to finally understand that? For her to truly know how strong she was? To let herself really feel all the emotions she was afraid of and to finally let go?
She would be astonishing.
“Yes,” I said, my groin tightening at the thought. “I think she can handle anything I throw at her.”
Caleb grunted. “I’ll leave you to manage that part of it then. Will give you call on the logistics once everything’s been arranged.”