Chapter 11
Sean
Even after making love again, sleep does not come easy. There’re too many balls in the air, and not the nondenominational kind. Lillian’s father. My father. A suicidal woman. Parkhaven. Fucking Jeff Pearson. Grams’s latest business adventure.
How long before I drop something important?
When I wake, Lillian’s at the kitchen table, working on the computer.
“Morning, honey.” My lips brush across her cheek. “Find anything new?”
“Not yet. Parkhaven has so many layers of LLCs, untangling them is a bitch.” She stops typing and gulps coffee.
As she turns her face toward me, my chest constricts. How have I not noticed those dark circles under her beautiful hazel eyes?
“Didn’t you sleep?” I tuck a finger beneath her chin. Her gaze searches my face, no doubt finding the same exhaustion reflected there.
“Enough.” She shrugs. “You?”
“Same.” Another lie.
Stepping away, I pop a K-Cup into the Keurig. Leaning closer, I whisper in her ear. “Listen, how about I take you out to dinner tonight? That new place. Street Smart.”
“Ooh.” A grin spreads across her face. “Can we charge the client?”
“Sure. It’s legit. We’re strengthening our cover.”
“Whatever you say.” Snickering, she returns to her work.
Soon, we’re both lost in our screens.
Around eight, she hops into my idling SUV, looking like a supermodel in heels and a skimpy black dress.
She glances up and down the street. “Tomorrow’s alternate-side parking. We’ll lose our place. Maybe we should take an Uber.”
“No problem. I’ll park it in front of my old apartment.” As I pull away from the curb, a blue Honda Civic puts on its blinker, ready to claim our spot.
She frowns. “I thought you were going to sublet it.”
“Haven’t gotten around to it. Not exactly a high priority.”
“Right.” Something in her voice tightens. I’m not sure why, but I don’t want to get into it. Not tonight. I’ll wait until a bourbon takes the edge off the last couple of shitty days.
I must’ve dodged that landmine because her hand slips to my thigh and squeezes. “You really think your father would commit his own mother?”
“I do.” My knuckles whiten around the steering wheel.
“Do we need him? Can’t we find another cover?” As she bites her lower lip, I mull it over, weighing the pros and cons.
“We could, but it would set us back. Parkhaven might use the time to hide behind even more LLCs. It’s not like my father to give a shit one way or another, as long as it’s not costing him. Something’s not adding up.”
As we discuss possibilities, I pull in front of the restaurant.
Careful not to bang the stitches, I ease out of the Subaru.
When my gorgeous fiancée takes my arm, my fucking heart swells.
Tonight, she’s dressed to kill—not literally.
I have no idea how she does it. Some kind of magic.
Smoky eyes. Red lips. Matching nails. Blonde hair twisted into a fancy do.
Curls brushing her sexy neck. Sparkling necklace.
Diamond earrings. And it’s not just the outfit.
It’s her attitude. Everything screams money, privilege, confidence.
“Not a scratch.” Using a tone borrowed from my old man, I hand my keys to the attendant.
For my ears only, Lil mutters, “And don’t blow it up.”
Smirking, she glances up at me. “Too soon?”
We’re still chuckling as the sidewalk noise fades behind us. Inside, the restaurant swallows us whole. The city disappears. No selfies. No loud tables with tourists trying to be seen. Just low light, hushed voices, and the kind of expensive restraint that doesn’t announce itself.
Dark wood. Soft brass. Heavy pressed linen napkins. Glassware that catches the light. A mood designed for people who expect perfection.
Everything here costs. Time. Privacy. Silence.
Our impeccably dressed, twenty-something hostess doesn’t over-smile. She sizes us up, decides we belong, and takes the Benjamin I hold out as if it’s expected.
“Reservation’s under Clark,” I announce, somewhat bored. “We’re a few minutes late. I’m sure it won’t be a problem. Chef’s pleasure. Ask the sommelier to pair our wine.”
“Of course, Mr. Clark. Follow me, please.” She selects two menus before sauntering toward the kitchen.
At the table I requested, I slide Lillian in, then sit with my back to the wall, searching for threats.
Finding none, I smile at my date. “You look… stunning.”
“Thanks. I love this dress. Do you think Dante will let me keep it?”
I grin. “Perks of the job.”
“Sweet.” She reaches down to adjust the strap on her ankle, using the excuse to steal a glance over her shoulder. “I recognize a lot of Wall Street types.”
I kiss her hand. “Perfect. Everyone should know the prodigal son has returned.”
“And did you order the fatted calf?” Her giggle goes straight to my cock.
God, I love her sense of humor.
No stranger to expensive restaurants, she breaks off a small piece of bread, butters it without leaving a crumb, then brings it to her red lips.
I lean back, admiring her every move. “Do you ever miss your father’s money?”
“Only as I balance our checkbook.” She grins, cupping my cheek when I scowl. “Oh, you were being serious?”
She flicks her long nails toward the room. “We have plenty. This… This is so superfluous. What we do is so much more important.”
She lifts her crystal stemware to her lips, takes a sip, then meets my eyes over the rim. “Can I ask you a question about Roger?”
“You can ask.” Not sure I’ll answer.
Her red lips purse. “I know he ignored you growing up, but why the Marines? Surely, after paying for all your prep schools, he would’ve sent you to an Ivy League school.”
Sighing, I lean back in my chair. “My decision. Rebellion, I suppose. I wanted to show him I didn’t need him or his money.
I stole a car. Got caught. Refused to let him bail me out.
The judge gave me a choice: service or jail time.
Grams sent a Marine friend to talk to me. What he said made a lot of sense.”
“And when you got out? Why forensic accounting?”
“Honestly? At the time, it seemed like a safe bet. There’ll always be a job for those who follow the money.”
We halt our conversation when the gloved sommelier approaches. He holds the label toward me, waiting for my nod. Once he uncorks the bottle and pours, I swirl the wine beneath my nose. Not done playing the snob, I take a sip, swirling the liquid around in my mouth before swallowing.
“It’ll do.” My tone says the opposite.
A bit taken aback, he pours for Lillian, who takes a quick gulp, gives it a thoughtful nod, then waves him away. “Yes, yes. Fine, fine. Thank you.”
Salads delivered, the first glass of wine empty, Lil smiles. “Is it too late to break up the third-floor dynamic duo?”
“Grams and Becks? Easier to break up Batman and Robin.” My eyes soften on her. “Have I mentioned lately how much I love you?”
“Maybe, but never enough. I love you, too. You weren’t really jealous of Jeff Pearson, were you?”
“Jealous? No. More like cautious. There’s something oily behind his facade. Parkhaven is a dirty circus act, and he’s the ringmaster. I don’t want you anywhere near him.”
“But it’s why Dante hired me.”
“No babe, he hired you to be my assistant.” The minute I utter those words, I realize my mistake.
“Dante expected me to be arm candy? Are you fucking serious?” Face red, voice up an octave, she stands.
“No. Sit. Of course not. No one has your money laundering smarts.” Sighing, I take both her hands in mine. “I just don’t want a repeat of Mexico.”
“Me neither.” Adjusting her dress, she slips back into her seat. “Isn’t that why we agreed to work for Dante? We’re going to remove my father from our lives forever. A few risks are worth the reward.”
No. They’re not. Biting my tongue, I sip my wine. On this, we’ll have to agree to disagree. Nothing is worth risking her life.
Soon, our meals arrive. The filet mignon is so damn delicious, we eat in silence.
Eventually, she lays her knife across her plate and gestures with her fork. “Tell me more about your friend.”
“What do you want to know?” I scan the room out of habit. Still finding no threats, I return my attention to the woman I love.
Picking up her napkin, she dabs the corners of her sexy red lips, then captures my gaze. “Well, he’s our age. How did he come to own a huge organization of former government operatives?”
Her question catches me off guard. Apparently, Parkhaven isn’t the only organization she’s been researching.
I tell her what she’s no doubt found online. “His grandfather started the company. When he retired, Dante’s father, a four-star general, took over. A couple of years ago, his old man passed, and he inherited the business.”
“Hmm.” She taps a nail against the linen tablecloth. “And how did you guys meet?”
“We came up together. Served together. We were both trying to prove ourselves to demanding fathers. Mine was absent. His was in his face. After our first deployment, I left to pursue college. He did a second tour, and a third. We kept in touch. Thank God we did. No one else could’ve procured a helicopter fast enough to pull us from the jungle. ”
“You saved me.” Her voice lowers to a whisper.
“We saved each other.” Reaching across the table, I take her hand.
As I kiss her knuckles, tears slip down her cheeks. “I love you, Sean Clark.”
She could say it a million times a day, and I would never tire of hearing it.
“Love you, too, Lil.”