Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Dallas
H olding Blair while she slept was becoming a favorite thing of mine; asleep, she was so soft and vulnerable that I still couldn’t compare the two sides of her, the ball-buster that turned out billion-dollar business deals like she breathed air and the tender girl who uttered the softest cries when she orgasmed.
She’d been back in Montana for over two weeks, and while it was an open secret that we were ‘knocking boots’, we didn’t shove it in anyone's face. What we did now was have our romantic activities in her room rather than mine. Marie was up before dawn; she needed her sleep.
Christmas was four days away, and I looked forward to giving her a present. I still didn’t know if I was staying in Montana or heading to Texas.
“Why are you thinking about it so hard?” Blair murmured as she shifted on my chest. “Go back to sleep, Dallas. ”
I chuckled. “What would you do if I told you I was just admiring how sexy you are?”
She peeked one eye open, “Flattery? Last time I checked, you already got lucky.”
“I remember,” I stroked a hand down her spine. “Doesn’t negate the thought, though.”
Blair sighed as she buried her head in the crook of my neck, “I think I liked you better when you were an asshole.”
Easing her off me, I left for the bathroom, used the facilities, washed my hands, and gazed at my reflection in the mirror. The man I saw staring back at me was miles away from the man who had come to this ranch. One was tan and healthier, with a spark in his eyes, while the other had been pale, stressed, and partially dead inside.
I knew which one I wanted to stick around.
Heading back to the room, I saw the first rays of dawn coming in, and I slid back into bed to wrap my arms around her; her breast pressed into my side, comforting and enticing at the same time. I leaned into her ear and whispered, “Who is your Secret Santa?”
“Goose,” she replied, sleepily but sharp enough to deflect my sneaky question. “I gotta tell you, dog toys and treats aren’t as cheap as they used to be.”
Well, I tried.
“Now, go back to sleep,” she ordered.
“Yes, ma’am.”
The town was covered in white this close to Christmas, and the cheer in the air was practically infectious. I had to have a good talk with Blair as the emotion for her, brimming under my breastbone, had to be expressed somehow.
We were back at Hank’s store, picking up some odds and ends. My phone vibrated with a text, one that made me go cross-eyed .
One of you will pay. You will lose her, or she will be forced to lose you.
“What the fuck was this?” I stared at the screen. There was no sending number, so I couldn’t call whatever asshole was behind this and cuss him out.
Blair rounded the corner and approached me, her hands filled with items. Luckily, she didn’t see my confusion. She was instead staring at a row of scarves. “It’s no Burberry, but what do you think about this one?”
The scarf was made of a soft-looking yarn, with fat stripes of silver and green. “I like it. It compliments your eyes.”
“Aw, thanks.” We headed to the checkout counter and got her things in bags before heading into the fluttering snow.
I shoved the phone into my back pocket and decided to ignore it. Maybe it was a text sent to the wrong person, but a niggling feeling inside me told me that was not the case. If this person meant Blair, what did they mean by she would be forced to lose me? Was someone going to put a gun in her hand and aim it at the back of my head?
What did it mean?
“Are you okay?” Blair asked.
“Oh, yeah,” I unlocked the truck, “Just wondering about a few things.”
When we went inside, and felt the warm air, “Blair… what are we?”
She quirked her head, “What do you mean? What are we doing?”
“No, I mean,” I sucked in a breath. “Are we in a relationship? Is it just casual, or is it more? Because I have to tell you something: if I am considering moving to Texas, it will be for you, not for a job. ”
Blair bit her lip, and then held the bag close to her belly. “I—shit?—”
Now, my gut sank to my feet, but I didn’t jump to any conclusions about what she meant by that. I started the truck and headed back to the ranch, taking the time to drive carefully and not skid into a snowbank because of invisible ice.
We were halfway there when Blair said, “I want you to come.”
I kept control of the wheel, “To work near you or?—”
“To be with me,” she said, “I want you with me in Texas, Dallas, but I cannot deny that I’m feeling more for you than I have for any other guy in the last five years. And before you even suggest it, no, it’s not because you're not as rich as the other guys. I couldn’t care less about that. You’re honest, loyal, and decent, not like those smarmy assholes who constantly look out for any way to screw someone over.”
I spared her a look, “I think you just called me husband material somewhere in there.”
“Did I?” Blair smiled tentatively, “I hadn’t realized.”
When we got to the ranch, I shut the truck off, reached over to her, cupping the back of her neck, and pulled her in for a soft kiss. “You’re something else, you know.”
“I know,” she replied. “And I am glad you figured that out now.”
Laughing, I got out and headed inside, trying not to laugh at how gingerly she walked over the snow. When we got inside, we separated to change our clothes and rejoined in the kitchen for warm coffee, tea, and whatever we could munch on.
My phone sat on the table while I fixed my coffee, and once again, it buzzed with a text. Grimacing, I flipped it over and saw the words again.
One of you will pay. You will lose her, or she will be forced to lose you.
So, there was no question about this; this message was for me.
“…What’s going on?” Blair asked.
Silently, I slid the phone to her, and she read it, her face going flinty. “What the hell is this?”
“That’s what I want to know,” I rubbed my face. “There is no number, so I cannot call this asshole back. But I don’t get it. What does it mean?”
Her phone rang, and she looked down at it and then at me. “Can your cell record?”
I scrolled through and got to the voice recorder app I had used in office meetings many times. I had it ready for when the person called again. I didn’t know why I expected some robot voice or voice modifier like in some horror flick— but no, whoever came through the phone spoke clearly.
“I have two choices for you, sister,” the voice said, and I knew it was her asshole brother. “You made me lose the Ricola investment, so I think it is only fair that you lose something of yours. This Dallas Donovan you’ve been canoodling with has a brother who owes a good deal of money to the bank. I know the owner of that bank, Westfork Financial, and if I have a good reason to tell him to hike the interest rate up or repossess the ranch, I am sure he will do it.”
“You’re threatening me?” Blair asked. “Do you know how blackmail works, Wentworth?”
“I have more leverage on you than on him,” Wentworth said. “If you stay in this disgusting relationship, his brother loses because of him, and he is going to lose big. I can promise you that.”
“So, you’re threatening me because you’re feeling hurt,” she said calmly.
“You made me lose one of the most fortuitous deals of the century!” Wentworth hissed. “You don’t think I’d be pissed off?”
“And what if I tell Dad about this?” she asked.
“It will be your word against mine,” he said, “There is no way to prove this. You’re better off anyway. You can't be serious about dating that hick.”
Her smile was sinister, “We’ll talk when I come for Christmas Eve dinner, Wentworth. Maybe you’ll get your way.”
She hung up, and I saved the voice recording; Blair reached for her tea and dumped it into a travel mug. “Get a change of clothes, Dallas. We’re going to Atlanta.”
I balked when I saw the mansion arching above me. I knew Blair came from money, but seeing it with my own eyes was something else. I was in dark jeans and a white button-down with silver cufflinks.
“Don’t be afraid,” Blair said, “Just ignore the glitz and glamour, and you’ll be fine. We’ll say our piece, nail Wentworth’s ass to the wall, and go back home.”
“Did he think he could get away with this?” I asked as we drove into the winding driveway. “And why do you have dinner on Christmas Eve and not on the day itself?”
“We are usually out on Christmas Day, visiting hospitals, donating toys, and making a public donation to the cancer and women’s wards,” Blair said. “Those donations are an accumulated mass of donations, though, not ours.”
“Of course,” I snorted.
It was about four in the afternoon, and I knew the pre- dinner drinks and appetizers were already circling the large dining room. I knew we had no intention of staying and eating, though.
After handing the car off to a valet, Blair led the way inside the most luxurious building I had ever been in; I guess the upper one percent did have vastly different lives.
An honest-to-God butler, clad in all black, bow tie, cummerbund and all, bowed to Blair and said, “Welcome home, Miss Blair.”
“Thank you, Stevens,” she said. “This is Dallas. He will be with me tonight.”
“Welcome, sir,” he added with a nod. “Please, follow me to the dining room.”
As we entered the vast dining room, a faceted chandelier hung above elegantly clad women and men sporting a fortune in jewelry at their throats and ears, meandering around, chatting, and drinking champagne.
A few of them eyed Blair as she meandered through the crowd, her silver gown hugging all the right places, but I knew she was not there to mingle. She headed to a man standing in the alcoves of the room, sipping a glass of scotch, and a woman came to his side; by the half-and-half resemblances, I figured they were her parents.
“Dad, Mom,” she said. “Do you have a minute? We’re not here to stay long.”
Her father frowned, his eyes flickering between me and his daughter. “I would say yes, but things are about to proceed, dear. Do you mind introducing me to your friend?”
“His name is Dallas Donovan, and I am working with him on a business deal,” she said. “Believe me, this discussion will not take long. I need you to get Wentworth and Mister Randall Crumley to join us. I’ll explain when we get to your study. ”
Her mother frowned, “Must you do this now, dear? Can it wait?”
“With all due respect, ma’am, no, it cannot wait,” I said respectfully. “Believe me, we would not be here at this pivotal moment if it weren't critical.”
Her father’s shoulders sagged an inch. “I suppose we must. The guests won’t mind a few more minutes to linger and drink Sauvignon Blanc. Why do you need the banker?”
“You’ll see when we get to your study,” Blair replied.
After the man of the house instructed the butler to find his son and the banker and send them to his office, we crossed the room to a discreetly hidden elevator and rode up two or three stories to a corridor as elegant as the rest of the house was.
We headed down to a room that screamed hand-crafted European furniture, and I pulled out a chair for Blair; her mother smiled in approval.
Thankfully, we didn’t have to wait too long before the two men entered the room; I spotted this Wentworth in seconds; he had the same coloring as Blair but wore it with a smug superiority that chafed against my skin.
He jerked in his step at seeing me but slapped a broad smile on his face. “Blair, welcome back. To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“We came to ask you about the threat you issued to Dallas' brother’s ranch,” she said, “That someone was going to lose either way.”
“What are you talking about?” Wentworth asked nonchalantly.
“The threat about either Blair leaving our relationship or you’ll ask your banker friend here to hike up the interest on a non-existent loan or repossess the ranch,” I said again. “Surely you haven’t forgotten about it? It was a day ago. ”
“I’ve done no such thing,” he bluffed.
I had to give this guy his cojones; he could bluff his ass off like a professional poker player. Blair took out my cell and accessed the recording while she pulled a file from her purse and slid a document over to her dad. It was a paper from the bank showing that the loan Warrick took years ago had been paid off.
Meanwhile, with the recording playing, Mrs. Cullen got paler and paler to the point where I got off my spot against the wall, ready to catch her. Wentworth, however, still had the poker face on, but his pulse was pounding like a drum.
When the recording ended, her father said, “Wentworth, care to explain that?”
“It’s a fake,” he said calmly. “AI or some deep fake or something.”
Blair cocked her head. “So, I’d clone my voice to make you look bad? Stop with the bullshit, Wentworth, you are a thin-skinned slimeball. Mister Randall Crumley, would you have heeded his request?”
“What? No,” the man shook his head. “He might have been able to con a lower-level banker, but not me.”
“Regardless,” Mister Cullen snapped, “I do not take lightly to threats, Wentworth, and even less so on the flimsy basis that you’ve been slighted. If she had taken this to the police, I would not have fought it. How selfish and spiteful are you, Wentworth? Effective immediately, you will be suspended from your position and have no access to any file or account we have in play.”
“For how long?”
“Until I say so,” the man said. “Blair, I am starting to see what you’ve been telling me for years. I am sorry you had to go through this.”
She stood. “Our time here is done, Dad. ”
“Please stay a moment, Blair,” her mother said. “Even for half an hour? I would like to get to know your new beau.”
She was a real Southern lady, wasn’t she? Who else used the word beau? I shared a look with Blair, and she lifted a single shoulder, “I suppose. We got what we came here for anyway.”
“Wonderful,” the lady smiled, “Now, let's go to the dining room.”