Chapter 7
Sean
Lilly snatches a chunk of beef between her chopsticks. She chews, swallows, then points one at me. “My sister plus your grandmother equals too much drama. We may need to separate them.”
“Not going to argue.” Standing at the sink, I wipe the black residue from the vintage baseball card’s plastic cover, then set it on a top shelf. “Wonder if Grams remembers giving this to me?”
Lil smiles. “Tell me more about your collection… and for God’s sake, get off that leg.”
“Babe. I took a painkiller. It’s fine.” To make her happy, I ease into a chair, stretching my leg long. “Want me to drop my pants so you can kiss my boo boo?”
“Idiot. Don’t change the subject. Talk. Eat.” Sounding like Grams, Lil scoops rice into a bowl, covering it with spicy chicken and cashews.
As I snap apart my wooden utensils and rub them together, my mind drifts. “It was the start of summer vacation. I was so excited. Mom rented a place near the ocean and promised me two fun-filled weeks, but when her chauffeur picked me up from school, he explained she’d made other plans.”
Lil scoots her chair closer, then rests her hand on mine. “I’m so sorry, babe.”
“Long time ago.” Unwilling to meet her gaze, I stab at my food.
“Still sad.” She cups my cheek, waiting for my eyes to lift. “You should’ve come first.”
As I stare into the depths of her hazel eyes, I fall in love all over again.
“Says the woman whose father killed her mother?” It’s an assholey thing to say, but it’s time to change the subject.
“We were talking about the card, Sean.” Clearly, she’s not going to let this drop.
Given no other choice, I continue. “Mom’s driver dropped me off at Gram’s, who fed me homemade snickerdoodles.
Later that evening, she brought out a cardboard cigar box crammed with tons of cards.
Mostly Mets and Yankees. All season long, before bed, she held one between her fingers, telling me their paths to fame. ”
“You’re so lucky to have such fond memories.” Pensive, her gaze drifts as she helps herself to more food.
My childhood, though fucked up, was never as bad as hers, which is why I avoid this touchy-feely shit. Story hour over, I shift to safer topics, like how Dante and I climbed the Alps in our sneakers.
Finished eating, we laugh and crack open fortune cookies. Crunching the cellophane, I read mine out loud. “Beware of those things you don’t yet understand…. What’s yours?”
“Money is the key to your financial future.” She giggles. “Thanks a lot, Captain Confucius.”
Our laughter fades when she receives a text message.
Jeff: Found a penthouse. Excellent investment. Like you to see it.
“I’m supposed to be the billionaire with funds to invest. Why is he contacting you?” Standing too fast sends a shooting pain to my toes. Fuckin’ stitches.
Snapping covers on our leftovers, I try not to limp as I slide them into the fridge under Buddy’s watchful eyes.
While he bats at the top of my head, Lillian tosses the empty containers into the trash. “Personal assistants handle everything. That would be me.”
My fists clench at the thought of her spending any time in that jerk’s presence. “I don’t like the way he acts around you.”
“It’ll give me a chance to question him. Perhaps he’ll let me see his books.” When she flutters her eyelashes, I growl.
“That’s not all he’ll let you see.” I’ll never understand why women underestimate men like him.
Walking past me, she pats her purse sitting where she dropped it on the countertop. “Don’t worry. If he tries anything, I have my Taser. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll knee his balls so hard, he’ll sing soprano for the rest of his life.”
“God, I love you.” Holding both her wrists, I push her against the fridge, my hard cock raring to go.
As her hungry, spicy lips meet mine, my damn phone rings.
“Ignore it.” She arches into just the right spot.
Groaning at the sweet agony, I glance at the screen. “Can’t. It’s Dante.”
When I look up, the cat launches off the top of my head onto the table.
“Fine. Don’t blame me if your balls turn blue and fall off. Right, Buddy?” She scratches his chin and head while he smirks at me.
Sighing, I kiss the tip of her nose, then swipe across the screen. “Sean here. You’re on speaker. Lil’s with me.”
Our boss says hi, adds some concerned bullshit about my leg, and clears his throat. “Daedalus has been researching Parkhaven’s client list. Last year, Prince Faisal bin Turki Al-Saud was quietly stripped of his inheritance. He has no funds but is shown as investing millions.”
Leaning over my phone, Lillian’s frown deepens. “Money laundering 101. Invent a wealthy stakeholder. Pretend he’s the money man instead of illegal sources.”
“Right,” Dante grunts. “In this case, the three G’s. Girls, guns, and gambling. Parkhaven uses the cash to buy upscale properties. Fix them up. Resell.”
“And once they’re sold, the bank accounts are squeaky clean.” While she talks, Lil pulls out a chair and motions for me to sit.
“I need to see the ledgers.” She plops down next to me. “The real ones, not the ones Jeff shows investors. Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. He sent me a message. Wants to show me his art collection.”
I can’t believe she is testing me in front of our boss. “Not funny, babe.”
“Yeah, it kind of is.” Smiling, she pats the cat, who wears the exact same expression.
“I’m going with her.” No one better argue with me.
“He may suspect something if you do.” Dante makes a valid point, but I’ve met too many snakes like Pearson. I need to be there when he strikes.
“She goes. I go.” My tone says this is non-negotiable.
I know I’ve won when Dante sighs. “Be careful. Pearson could be a pawn… or a knight.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Lillian grabs the phone from my hand. “I’m a fucking queen. Check and mate.”