CHAPTER EIGHT
I woke up a second before my alarm blared, rolling over and tapping it. The automatic window shades rose, revealing the city below. It was six, and the sun was just over the horizon. I swung my legs onto the floor and stretched, cracking my spine.
Ever since I’d decided to get my life together, every morning started the same.
Wake up and shower.
Head to the training center.
Run until my legs were water.
Teach morning class.
Hit the gun range with Yale.
By then, it was eleven, and I was ready to get started with the day’s meetings. This morning, my body protested. Maybe it was how far I’d walked going back and forth to Circe’s house, but I doubted it.
I cracked my neck, stepping into the bathroom. I flipped the knob and adjusted, letting the warm water trickle over my open palm. Everything was exactly as it had been for the last decade, so why did the world feel so new and different?
Was it just because this was the biggest project I’d ever worked on and it all began today?
Or something else?
I stripped my sweatpants off and stepped under the shower. The mirror across the room caught my eye, and I paused, narrowing my eyes. I’d lost a little weight in the last six months, probably from all the neurotic running. I turned my arm, studying the cover up tattoos.
None of my shitty ink was visible when my clothes were on. All anyone ever saw was the expensive, carefully planned cover ups. They never saw the scrawls, the scars, the burns.
Into my mind burst the memory of a scent I could never shake. Sweat, body odor, cigarettes. The feeling of sneaking through the hall on the sides of my bare feet. Hoping, praying, begging any deity who would listen that I could get to my room unnoticed.
Freak.
My neck snapped to the side. Crack, pop.
A rush of anxiety moved through my chest, and I rotated my neck again, cracking it.
I shook my head hard and turned the water cold to clear my brain. Shivering, I washed up and stepped out, shaking my wet hair out. From the closet, I pulled on my training pants and shirt and boots. My gym clothes were already packed in a bag hanging behind the door in the kitchen. I’d shower again at the training center after my workout was done.
My fingers tapped against the counter, my foot jiggling as my espresso machine dripped coffee into my thermos. The second it was done, I shoved the canister in my bag and left my apartment.
Flip the locks. Check the deadbolt twice. Tap the door with my middle knuckle on the left, right, and center portion.
Quick, so I barely noticed. If I did it too slowly, it had to be done all over again.
My car was parked on the street, and behind it sat my sleek Kawasaki Vulcan. The morning sun glinted off the black paint as I threw my leg over and revved the engine, letting it purr to life. I’d bought the Kawasaki after I’d found out Merrick wasn’t going to station me out west, a little treat to make myself feel better for having to spend another winter waiting for something to happen on the Wyoming Project.
Cool morning air whipped through my hair as I moved through the city. When I pulled up outside the training center, Yale was already waiting at the door, phone to his ear, pacing like he would rather not be having a conversation.
I strode up the walkway and send him an inquiring glance. He rolled his eyes and shook his head.
I already knew who he was talking to. Yale always had some kind of woman drama going on, and it was always with the same person. Candice Roberts. I barely knew her, but since Merrick had married Clara, we’d crossed paths a few times because they were best friends. Candice struck me as sharp, a little insecure, and very sheltered. I struggled with that last aspect of her character.
Nobody had sheltered me. It made me resentful of people who had the luxury of being protected, and Candice was heavily protected by both her father and Yale, despite them being not being official.
I stepped into the training center and turned left to head to the gym. Yale’s boots clattered behind me, and he fell into step at my side. His face was thoughtful, eyes narrowed.
“Did you fuck up again?” I asked.
He shrugged. “No, she didn’t get in.”
I pulled the gym doors open. “Into what?”
He followed me inside, keeping up as I moved into the locker room. It was mostly empty. Morning training had already begun, and the second round wouldn’t start for another hour. I stripped my shirt off and opened my bag.
“Law school,” said Yale.
He was already dressed in his workout clothes, his chest drenched in sweat. He usually ran the early AM classes, except on Fridays when I took over so he could have a day off.
I paused, staring at him. “Why the fuck was she trying to get into law school?”
He shrugged. “I guess it’s just something she wanted to do.”
I could tell he wasn’t telling the truth, but I wasn’t about to pry.
“Okay, so what does that have to do with you?” I pulled on my sweats and shirt, sitting down to grab my sneakers.
“I told her she couldn’t be a lawyer because her tits were too big,” he sighed. “I feel like I really fucked up. Maybe that was what got her confidence down.”
I paused, staring at him for a long moment as I gathered my thoughts. Yale was smart, but he had a tendency to let his mouth move faster than his brain.
“That was a weird thing to say,” I said lightly.
He ran a hand over his face. “It made more sense in context.”
“Okay,” I said, raising a brow to let him know I didn’t believe him.
“This was a while ago. We were in a shouting fight,” Yale admitted. “I told her I meant to pursue her, buy her engagement jewelry, maybe ask Merrick what he thought about us being together and get his permission.”
No matter how long I lived in the Welsh organization, their customs around engagements still surprised me. Instead of a ring, Yale would be expected to buy an entire set of diamond jewelry and present it to Candice, piece by piece, until she accepted the last one, which was, shockingly, an intimate piercing for her clit.
But before any of that, Yale would have to ask Merrick what he thought about it. Merrick, as Brenin and keeper of the organization, would weigh the situation. He’d inquire about Yale’s financial status, his future plans. If he approved the potential match, Yale would go to her father as her financial guardian and present the match on paper.
If he said yes, then Yale could buy the jewelry and offer the first piece to Candice.
If she refused, he was out several grand.
It was weird, but I liked it. The process was complicated, but if my mother had been protected the way our women were, maybe she’d never have met my stepfather.
“So she said she wasn’t interested?” I asked.
We headed down the hall to the gym. I started warming up on the treadmill, and Yale draped himself over the armrest beside me and sighed mournfully.
“She said she still had things she wanted to do before she got married,” he said. “I asked what. She didn’t know, so she got mad and said I was putting her on the spot. It escalated, and I told her she wasn”t the type to be a lawyer because she’d struggle to get respect from the organization’s male lawyers.”
“She asked why, and you said because she’s got big tits,” I guessed.
He sighed again. “It was more roundabout than that, but yeah. And I’m not wrong; she would have been up against a lot.”
“But it wasn’t your place,” I said. “Some things need to be found out in their own time.”
“No, I should have encouraged her. Taken her side. Not just told her that her body would have made it harder for her to do what she wants.”
I tapped the screen to set the treadmill. “You’re not wrong. Merrick likes to think we’re so evolved, but it would have been hard for her to be the first female lawyer in the organization.”
“I don’t want her to get hurt,” Yale said quietly.
I snapped my earbud in. “Then protect her. If you want her, act the part.”
He straightened. “Says the guy who’s been single for ten years.”
“When I find someone worth it, I’ll let you know.”
His jaw worked as he stepped off the treadmill. “You’re changing, Caden.”
I paused, my other earbud in my fingers. It was the first time anyone had said that to me since I’d decided to be less of an asshole. A flicker of triumph started between my ribs. I rarely gave myself the luxury of feeling good about myself. Pride was a new experience.
“Thanks,” I said shortly.
He left, and I pushed my earbud in, turning my music up too loud, trying to drown out the last part of our conversation where he’d said I’d been single forever and that I was changing. I’d wanted to change, to be a completely different person for so long, but it felt strange to hear it spoken aloud.
Like my efforts had finally produced something real.
I had to change—I felt soiled, like all the bullshit I’d gone through and done before I got to Providence had tainted me forever. It didn’t matter that I’d worked my way up to become Merrick’s right hand. Inside, I was just a kid with shitty tattoos, cigarette burns, and scars on my knuckles.
It wasn’t until I met Merrick that anyone cared.
I swallowed, increasing my speed. Why couldn’t I just let him love me? Why did my walls go up when he called me his son?
I had taken my time accepting my heritage, and now I regretted not signing up to train for the arena when I first arrived. I was too old now, already thirty. All the trainees for the arena were just hitting eighteen. And if I somehow won against a bunch of twenty-year-old kids, what was the point? To be Brenin for fifteen years before we had to hold another competition to choose my successor?
No, I’d missed the boat.
Now I was stuck training men with more potential than myself forever until I aged out of that too.
I would never be the man my father was. I was a Grade A fuck up, raised by strangers in strange houses on strange streets. I’d never be a warrior like Merrick, never taste the primal fear of fighting in the arena, never stand covered in blood and listen to the roar of triumph from the crowd before I ascended to the most coveted seat in our world.
I’d come to accept I’d always live with that regret, but the question I couldn’t answer was the one that came after resignation.
What now?
I’d held that question so long, wrapped in my hands, shielding it so no one ever saw my doubt, like a tiny flame always in danger of going out and leaving me in resignation.
My brain was tired and overloaded when I finished my run. My body felt exhausted as I dragged myself through the rest of my workout and headed back to the shower. It was nine, right on the dot.
I showered again and got dressed in my black training fatigues. Instructors wore black, students wore gray. I tossed my bag in the locker and strode from the training center, taking the Kawasaki uptown. Johansen Enterprises was on the other side of the river, sitting on the hill over the city.
I took the bridge instead of the ferry, the warm wind whipping through my hair. The traffic was heavy because it was lunch time, but I managed to find a parking spot on the other end of the lot outside the building. It towered over me, made of sleek silver and iridescent windows that reflected the sky overhead. They probably had a lot of birds smash themselves on those.
I made a mental note to bring it up to Circe just to torture her later. Then, I made a second note not to do that, because I was trying to be less of an asshole.
There was a man in a sharp gray suit standing on the other side of the door, loitering in the atrium. He had to be a security guard or something, because I instantly detected the shape of a gun under his jacket. When I entered, he sent me a suspicious stare.
“Can I help you?” I said, forgetting my resolution not to be an asshole.
“Are you Caden Payne?” he asked, looking me up and down.
“Yeah, why?”
He stepped back, beckoning me across the room. I followed, boots clipping on the polished white floors. Overhead, hanging from the second story balcony, were strands of wisteria. Turning in a slow circle, I absorbed my surroundings like a soldier.
Lots of exits. Open space. A positive and a negative.
A woman had helped decorate this place, and I had a pretty good idea which one. It wasn’t utilitarian in the way I’d expected. It was…beautiful. Airy windows that let the light in, spacious communal areas. The furniture all matched the logo—a pale mauve and silver against a cream backdrop. After seeing Circe for the last few days, I knew those were her signature colors.
I paused behind the guard as he swiped a card to let me through the revolving gate.
“Straight ahead, turn left. The boardroom is on the forty-eighth floor, but there’s a personal assistant at the top who can guide you,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said.
I heard him grunt as I strode away. People milled about, doing a lot more standing around than working. I narrowed my eyes as several of them gave me strange looks. My black fatigues stood in stark contrast to their sleek suits and pencil dresses.
It was all clean, soft, and feminine.
Just like her.
Stepping into the elevator, I adjusted my helmet under my arm. The elevator was glass and looked out over a quad of green grass and flowers. Purple hyacinths.
It occurred to me as the ground dropped away, the flowers dwindling into dots below me, that I was looking at a visual representation of something I’d grown up without.
Parental love.
Fuck love—Lukas Johansen adored his daughter. His business was a monument to that. I swallowed, realizing that, deep inside, I was envious of what she had.
And that made me want to hate her a little.
I straightened my shoulders. I’d been dealt a different hand. It wasn’t that fucking deep.
The elevator stopped, and the doors slid ajar. Directly across the hall was a black and white photograph of Circe, sitting primly with some kind of award in her hand, smiling her demure smile, not a hint of arrogance in her eyes.
She was humble, especially for someone who’d grown up being fed with a silver spoon. Even I had to admit that.
“Can I help you, sir?”
I turned on my heel. At the other end of the hall was a slender, silver haired woman sitting at a round desk. The air smelled faintly of flowers, the diffuser on her desk puffing as elevator music played.
She smiled serenely, waiting for my answer.
“Caden Payne,” I said, striding across the hall and pausing by her desk. “I have a meeting in five minutes with Lukas and Circe.”
She nodded, hitting the intercom on her desk. It beeped, and Lukas’ voice came through, deep and lightly accented.
“Is Caden here?”
“Yes, he just got in, sir.”
“I’m ready.”
She tapped another button on her desk, and the door to our right slid open. I gave her a quick nod in thanks and stepped through, entering the boardroom. It hissed shut behind me, and I had to blink to adjust my eyes.
The boardroom was decorated like the rest of the building. The long table sat on a soft cream rug, surrounded by silver chairs. In the center was a bouquet of…of course, purple hyacinths.
No surprises there.
Lukas rose, buttoning his suit jacket. He crossed the room, extending his hand. I shook it, sizing him up. He was a tall man, maybe an inch shorter than me, and he had broad shoulders. There was an elegance about him I found interesting, in the way he moved, spoke, even in his expressions. He was tempered and proper to his core.
I found that dangerous.
It was a mask, and I didn’t trust it. He might be partnering with us on the Wyoming Project, but he wasn’t my friend. He was our most aggressive direct competitor in the private security business. Outside of this deal, our families weren’t friendly.
Right now, it served us to work together, but I had no doubt that the second it didn’t, he’d go back to being my enemy.
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No, but I don’t eat till two.”
He pushed his hands in his pockets. “Is that a…custom?”
“No, I just train all morning,” I said. “Don’t feel hungry until later.”
“Hmm, well I suppose that’s why Merrick does so well in the security business,” Lukas said. “He works you hard.”
I nodded once. “I work my men and myself hard.”
He gave me a tempered smile and crossed the room, flipping the button of his suit open and sinking down. I followed, taking the seat across from him. Through the window, the city and the river glittered in the afternoon sun. I squinted, thinking I could see the top of the training center.
“Where’s Circe?” I asked.
“Circe is on her way; she was at lunch,” he said.
On cue, the door at the back of the room slid open. Apparently, they couldn’t have normal doors that unlatched and swung in. No, they had to hiss and slide into the wall like we were in a sci-fi movie.
My thoughts came to a complete standstill as Circe walked in.
She was talking to someone, her back to us. As the door shut, she turned with a smile on her face. Her dark waves bounced and fell around her shoulders. Her slender body, made taller by a pair of towering heels, was covered in a white pencil dress. On her ears, throat, and wrists glittered silver jewelry.
Her mauve lips pulled back in a smile, flashing perfectly white teeth. Time slowed as those dark waves settled on her shoulders and bare upper arms. Her lashes were curled up, highlighting her dark eyes, narrowed with laughter.
Then she saw me and sobered, going professional.
I shifted in the chair, and to my absolute horror, I was halfway hard. She floated by me, sending me a coy look through her lashes, and sank down beside her father. Luckily, I didn’t have to stand to shake her hand.
Otherwise, this meeting would have gotten incredibly awkward.
Pull yourself together.
I cleared my throat and laid my helmet on the table. Circe looked at it for a second and cleared her throat too. Our eyes connected for a brief second, and I knew exactly what we were both thinking.
The kitchen sink.
The kitchen floor.
Down below, my dick twitched. Fuck, why did she have to be a knockout? It was just my luck that the woman I had to work alongside was so stunning, I accidentally hooked up with her before I knew who she was. Because of course I did.
I was a fuck up.
Involuntarily, I cracked my neck.
“You alright?” she asked.
“Sore from training,” I said. My dick was going down slowly, so I stretched my legs out and crossed my ankles, folding my arms over my chest.
“Alright, what’s the agenda?” I asked.
Lukas rose and pulled a briefcase from under the table, setting a pair of laptops on the table. He removed a remote control and hit a button. A screen came down on the far wall and the lights dimmed, shades sliding over the windows. It all felt very theatrical.
“Your job together for the next few months is to get the approval from two men and a woman on my board. First up, we have Tennessee Galt.”
“Galt like Vincent Galt?” I asked.
Lukas shook his head, walking closer to the screen. “Well, sort of. He’s a second cousin by marriage, but his name being Galt is a coincidence.”
“Tennessee is a woman’s name,” I said.
Circe’s dark, perfect brow arched. “It can be a man’s name.”
I shrugged, tapping the table with my thumb. “Alright, where is he going to be?”
Lukas paused in front of the screen, hitting the remote again. A picture of a map appeared, but it was too bright for me to make out the words.
“The lodge in New York where Vincent Galt hosts work retreats is being rented out for one of the biggest meetings of real estate investors in the area. You two will attend and, by the end of it, I want his name on the consent forms.”
My eyes met Circe’s, and I looked away fast. Her mouth pursed, like she didn’t like the idea of traveling with me. Of course, I didn’t either, so I didn’t fault her for her reaction.
“How long is the retreat?” I asked.
“A week,” Lukas said. “I’ll provide you everything you need, transport, and so on. If you get the forms done early, you can come home whenever you like.”
“When is it?” Circe piped up.
“Next week.” Lukas paced the floor, pausing to lean out the door. I heard him murmur something to the woman in the hall. The door hissed shut, and he circled back to the screen.
“Any questions?” he asked, facing us and bouncing lightly on the balls on his feet.
Circe’s mouth pushed to the side as she chewed the inside of her cheek. I leaned forward, tapping my thumb harder.
“And I’ll get a file on Galt?” I asked.
Lukas nodded. “I’ll send everything over tomorrow.”
There was a knock at the door, and Lukas rose, stepping around my chair and disappearing into the hall. The door hissed shut, and Circe whirled, sending me a pointed look.
“Can you stop that?”
I stared. “What?”
She pointed at my hand with one mauve nail. “You’re tapping like crazy. Are you nervous?”
Embarrassed, I went still at once and pushed down my emotions. I’d learned to disconnect when people said things like that. It was part of the reason I was so fucking guarded.
I hadn’t even noticed I was tapping.
I lifted my eyes to hers, remembering I was trying to rebrand.
“It’s not on purpose,” I said coolly.
She looked taken aback, and a flicker of regret passed over her face as she leaned back. Before she could speak, the door hissed open again, and Lukas stepped in with a tray in his hands.
He set it down, revealing a pot of tea and three glasses of sparkling water. My brow rose, but I bit back the urge to say something. Lukas Johansen was a proper, straitlaced person, and when they were together, so was his daughter.
The corner of my mouth turned up. When I was with her, she’d been anything but proper—unless rubbing her pussy on my face, her perfectly manicured nails wound in my hair to keep my head still, was proper. Unless the little burst of arousal that followed her orgasm, the one that trickled down my chin, was appropriate behavior.
I glanced over at her profile, pert nose lifted, full mouth parted.
I had a feeling I could get the picture-perfect princess of the Johansen Empire to do all kinds of things that weren’t proper. I narrowed my eyes without meaning to. Maybe I just wanted to fuck her because she was gorgeous, but I suspected it had a lot more to do with the negative feelings I had, the ones that made me want to get her good and dirty.
Make the perfect makeup run down her cheeks.
Fuck up her lipstick. Make her choke on my dick.
“Can I get you anything?”
I shook my head, Lukas coming into focus. Now that I was seeing them together in a work environment, the perfect fa?ade his daughter kept up made more sense. Lukas was, for lack of a better term, anal. In my experience, most high producing people like him were.
My eyes shifted. I’d met people like him before, a lot of him in my line of work, and I knew there was always a second. Normally, it was a son, but there was always a successor, someone groomed to be exactly the same.
In this case, interestingly enough, it was Lukas’s daughter.
I could see his mark in everything she did: the way she sat, back ramrod straight, elegant hands with manicured fingers folded, face rested in a pleasant smile. She was a doll. For Lukas’ purposes, she could have been made of porcelain and paint, and he would have been just as proud.
I had a feeling, if I could find the right pressure point, I could tap once and shatter her like fine glass.
She sat there like that until her father finished the meeting and promised to send over the files. He shook my hand and excused himself. She got to her feet and started gathering up the cups.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Her brows creased. “Cleaning up. Just because I’m somebody important at this company doesn’t mean I can leave a mess for others.”
I didn’t point out that her father had walked out without cleaning anything up. She snapped the laptops shut, and I brought the tray out to her assistant. Without speaking, she walked me down to the atrium.
“I’ll be by your house the day we leave,” I said.
She nodded once, keeping her eyes focused through the window. “You’d better go then,” she said crisply.
“You’re in a hurry to get rid of me.”
“What? Did you think we’d get lunch together?”
“Not lunch. Maybe a quickie in the bathroom?”
Her dark eyes flashed. “Get out.”
I laughed, and before she could spin and go, I leaned in quickly enough to whisper, “You’re thinking about it right now, aren’t you?”
Her cheeks flushed pink. “I’m not fucking you.”
“I never said anything about fucking,” I murmured. “But I’d be happy to let you ride my face in a bathroom stall anytime you want, ma’am.”
Her mouth popped open. I wasn’t sure where that had come from. I was supposed to be her business rival. Here I was, practically begging her for an orgasm—hers, not mine—and it was getting embarrassing. I was letting her get the upper hand, and I couldn’t do that.
I slung my helmet over my shoulder, walking backwards to the door. “You’ll fuck me,” I said. “Just you wait.”
She was speechless, so I left her there, perfect mouth hanging open, staring at me from her ivory tower as I crossed the parking lot and swung onto my Kawasaki.