Chapter 20
Arya
Michael’s yacht is less huge and ostentatious than I expected, despite his father’s wealth. The deck is just big enough for a large Jacuzzi. The main cabin is the size of a house’s great room. There are four sleeping cabins and a galley below the decks.
Everything is done up in blond wood, with touches of navy, white, and brass. It’s cleaner and more elegant than I expected and a bit more old-fashioned compared to his ultramodern condo. I’m not surprised when I come in and see he already has champagne on ice and a bowl of strawberries ready.
“Now, what did I tell you about starting the party early?” I tease him gently as he leads me in.
“Sorry, sweetheart, but I need a little hedonism right now. It’s been a hell of a day already.” His smile looks a little strained.
“Damn. What happened?” I come in and hang my bag up on a hook across from the door.
“Let’s just say that I have assholes in my family, too.” He sighs when he sees my alarmed look. “My sister. She’s convinced I lost all that money through incompetence if I didn’t steal it outright. And she’s trying to convince my family of the same—and it is just fucking wearing me down.”
“That’s crazy.” I come and sit down on the couch next to him. “Have you ever asked her why in the world she’s doing all of this?”
“When I did, she went off on this rant about how I’m not smarter than her... she’s smarter than me. It was weird, really juvenile. Also, it was a serious case of the Dunning-Kruger effect in action.”
That makes me laugh a little in spite of myself. “Sorry... I’m sorry.” But really, that was pretty funny. “It sounds like she’s got some kind of longstanding grudge about your intelligence and accomplishments compared to hers.”
“Yeah, but the thing is, if she cares so much, how come she’s never even applied herself to anything?”
“I have no idea.” He rakes a hand back through his hair, his mouth a line. “Maybe she’s just that spoiled. Maybe there’s something messed up in her head. But it’s always been this way to at least some degree?”
“When she was five, she flushed my goldfish because she was jealous I could keep mine alive, and she killed hers in less than a month. At eight, she got in trouble for biting one of her tutors and tried to blame me for it. Thirteen? The weed found in her purse? She said I stashed it there. It just... goes on and on.”
“And nobody has ever thought of putting her in therapy?”
“My parents wouldn’t do it back when they could. And, of course, I never had a say.” He gives me a bleak look. “Honestly, she might just manipulate the therapist. She’s not smart, but she’s crafty.”
“Bad combination,” I comment, reaching over to put a hand on his shoulder. I can feel his muscles tense under my hand, and pet him gently through his shirt until he relaxes a little.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “Bad combination.”
There’s grilled salmon to go with our champagne and strawberries. It’s a surprise, competently done on his little galley grill, with a side of chopped salad. “You cooked!” I say with a mix of shock and pride.
“I figured out how to follow a recipe. This was pretty simple. You said you were getting a little tired of takeout, anyway.”
“Yeah, I did. Thanks for this. Dinners at home just aren’t worth the price of admission anymore.” I join him at the table, and he hands me a full plate.
“Oh, boy, do I understand that after lunch today.” He chuckles humorlessly. “Food tastes like cardboard in bad company. It was even burgers. I love burgers.”
“Family drama fucks up many a family meal,” I sigh, then smile. “But I’m flattered that you cooked for me.”
He flashes a grin in return, seeming happy that I like it. Though it’s not hard to like, any more than he is. “Maybe we can start fixing stuff together sometimes. Because I have no idea what I am doing—”
“Um, Michael? Sweetie? Me neither. I’m a programmer, too. My mother and our cook have handled everything since I was born. The only advantage I have on you is that my stack of cookbooks is probably bigger—just from unwanted gifts.” I munch on the surprisingly moist and tasty salmon.
“Huh. Okay.” He thinks about it. “We could learn together?”
“Once we’ve found your thief and found a way to pull even more money—and shut my parents up—I will absolutely learn to cook with you if you want. I just,” I snort and look down unhappily, “can’t really think about that right now.”
He looks at me, and his smile goes sad, then he reaches over and wipes a crumb off my cheek. “Having trouble letting go of everything that is happening?” he asks gently.
“I have to keep my focus,” I protest. “We have to find your perp and get my damn money. I know that the investigation’s getting close to home, but... please.”
I smile at him. “Please, what?”
“Please don’t be adorable and distracting. It’s just as important for you that we—”
“That we find our bad guy. I know, I know. Okay? I understand. I just... want to be with you for a while.”
I blink at him in surprise. There’s something shocking in the sincerity on his face. “What the hell happened at that lunch, Michael?”
“I told you the basics. There was no special new component to it. It was just the same crap, but more of it. Escalated. My sister’s driving me completely up the wall with her weird rumors and crazy accusations, my parents are going along with it, and my family loves gossip. I know nobody in my family, but my sister is that much of an asshole. I know I’m luckier than you are, but I’m still not that lucky.”
He looks down, and I move my chair over so we’re sitting on the same side of the table. I put my hand on his shoulder and say, “Hey. Hey, look... I get it, okay? It’s... not a contest. It’s never been about who has it worse between us.”
Sitting here right now, it hits me that my plan has gone completely off the rails. I only agreed to this half-baked scheme to get the information I needed and a chance to completely wreck Michael’s life as revenge. But now... all of that’s done. I know it’s done.
He’s gotten too far under my skin. I actually care about him now. And just like me, he has come here to be with me and get away from his family.
Fuck. What do I do now?
We eat in silence for a while. Finally, he says, “Thank you. I’m glad you get it.”
“Oh, yeah, I get it. I understand now when you mentioned wanting to punch my dad.” Is that too much to admit? I glance at him, wondering if I overstepped at a sensitive moment.
He scoffs. “You’re going to girl-fight my sister?” He eyes me, and I see the amusement on his lean face.
I blink a few times. “I mean... if she doesn’t shut up and act right, I’ll certainly be tempted...”
He chuckles and gets his smile back on his face. “I get it. I mean, probably not a good idea to do it, but I have to admit... the mental image kinda makes me smile. She’s the sort who cries when she breaks a nail.”
“I am... definitely not. Nothing against super feminine women, but I never saw the point of a manicure so expensive it leaves you in tears when it gets ruined.”
That makes him squint thoughtfully between bites of salmon and salad. “I wouldn’t call her super feminine. She’s just super vain. Not the same thing.”
“All crazy for spending Daddy’s money, huh?”
“Absolutely. And she’s got a crazy grudge against me. I can’t even fully explain why, either. It’s just always been that way.” He finishes his salmon and picks at his salad like he isn’t sure why he put leaves on his plate.
I chuckle. “Are you one of those guys who never eats vegetables unless they’re mixed in with other stuff you actually like?”
“Nah, I just apparently suck at making vinaigrette.” He laughs it off.
An hour later, I’m full, slightly drunk from the champagne, and thinking less and less about my messed up family. We have his laptop open in front of us and are going through the last of the security videos. I catch myself staring at one guy on the tapes who doesn’t fit with everyone else.
He’s medium height, neither skinny nor fat, with a bland, unkempt look that reminds me of the kind of guys who pack gaming stores and conventions. I can practically tell how he smells just from his appearance. I remember seeing him before from the tapes, but for some reason, he didn’t jump out at me the way he does now.
“Who is this guy?” I ask, wondering why he’s caught my attention so completely.
“My sister’s weed connection, I’m almost certain. The guy’s been hanging around off and on for a couple of weeks. She says he’s fixing her computer, but that’s bullshit. When she breaks things, she just gets my parents to buy her another.”
“Weird.” But is it relevant?
No way of knowing. But even as we move on, I can’t stop thinking about the guy and how out of place he looks.
Another hour, and we are done looking through the videos, with nothing to show except for one nagging feeling about one guy that I can’t even back up with facts. It pisses me off. I really just want to have all this over with, have it behind us, bad guys punished, money gotten, parents satisfied.
But there’s still a lot of work and some luck between here and there.
“I want to look closer at this ‘weed connection’ of your sister’s. Who the hell is he? Where did he come from? What is his actual relationship with your sister?” I say it carefully, worried that Michael is going to get defensive of his family again.
And he does. “I don’t think my sister’s wrapped up in any of this. She’s not the one. She’s not even smart enough to pull off something like stealing from me.”
“Maybe she isn’t, but maybe he is,” I urge, as his mouth works and he looks away from me. Fuck, not this again. “Look, you keep talking about how she’s dumber than a box of hammers. Maybe he’s manipulating her.”
He looks up at me, some of the anger and defensiveness fading from his face. “Manipulating her?”
But then, he shakes his head. “No, she’s... look, I told you she’s vain as hell. Vain people are also shallow as hell, for the most part. I don’t think this guy could manipulate her very easily. He’s a schlub. A hot guy could manipulate her easily.”
“Well, it was a thought.” I’m backpedaling more than I should. It’s stupid how defensive he gets about his family and how he does it in the weirdest ways. “It seems like we should finish a look into his background just for thoroughness.”
He gestures in that fake, nonchalant way I hate. “Okay, yeah, you’ve got a point, spend time on it if you want—”
“Michael... if I do that, will you actually be willing to look at what I find for you?” I ask quietly.
He bristles, his eyes flashing slightly. “What does that mean? Of course, I’ll want to know if he’s the guy.”
“Even if it implicates your sister?”
I keep my voice as gentle as I can, as kind as I can, but his obvious discomfort makes my heart sink. He’s still having problems with the whole idea of an internal betrayal, even though his sister has always been a raging asshole. It’s driving me up the wall.
But maybe nothing but hard evidence is going to change his mind.
“Yes,” he says finally, looking resolute. “He might not have manipulated her, but he could have outright lied.”
Or Maria could be manipulating the guy on the video, I want to suggest. But I know he’s not ready to hear that. And it’s frustrating the hell out of me.
“Michael,” I say finally, “I believe you want to believe that. But what if—”
“Look.” He is starting to sound irritated. “Like I said, have a look at the guy, try and actually find anything substantial on him if you feel like it. I just think it will end up a dead end.”
“Michael—”
“Arya, please,” he breaks in. “Please, don’t do that. Don’t accuse my sister of anything. Don’t leave me feeling caught between two people I... I care about.”
I stop dead, blinking. What did he just say?
“Michael, I’m not accusing your sister of anything unless the evidence proves she’s involved. You’re not caught between us. The truth is going to be what it’s going to be, and we’ll just have to deal with it.”
He takes a shivery breath. “I feel caught between you and my family. If they knew we’re together, or even working together... let alone getting close to accusing one of us of doing this...”
“I know, I get it. It really wouldn’t go over well. I understand that, and I hate it. I’ve been thinking about how my family would react, but in my case... I... I can do no right with them anyway. Maybe it’s time I did something that they really don’t approve of so I can at least make a clean break.”
I have a huge lump in my throat as I admit this.
He reaches over and brushes the fingers of one hand down my hair gently, his eyes softer than I am used to. “I thought we agreed we could just cross the bridge about our parents’ reactions when we came to it,” he says gently.
“What I’m saying is, why can’t we just do the same when we find out who the suspect is?”
He pauses, his hand still on my hair, and then pulls away a little as he thinks about this. “I guess I have to, or none of this is ever getting done.”
That’s a start. It’s all I can expect. I lean my head on his shoulder and sigh with relief.
After a few heartbeats, his hand comes down and cups my face, and I look up at him, and he kisses me. It’s warm and slow, and it creeps up on me until suddenly, we’re out of our chairs and in each other’s arms, starved for each other after only two days.
We don’t make it to bed. We barely manage the couch. Before I know it, I’m panting under him with my skirt up to my waist, one shoe off, and my blouse unbuttoned. He’s shoved my bra aside and is sucking urgently at my breast while his hands burrow under my skirt.
I hear my voice coming out in little yelps of pleasure and need. One of my hands is in his hair while the other braces me against the arm of the couch. He’s pulling my panties down off my hips, down to my knees. I kick off my other shoe and help him pull it off.
I hear the tear of a condom wrapper and some impatient fumbling. His breath is coming in harsh pants through his nose. His mouth switches to my other breast, and I arch and squirm under him while he crouches between my thighs.
He slides up my body, leaving my nipples aching and tingling from his attention. But then, the velvety head of his cock is rubbing against my pussy lips, pushing in.
He pushes in hard, and I shout, “Yes!” before I can stop myself, and he groans through his teeth in reply. My legs wrap around him, and he starts pounding into me, just the right side of too rough, our hips clapping together and sending jolts of delight through me.
I won’t last long. It’s not that kind of sex. Every thrust pushes me another half inch closer to the edge. I can hear my voice starting to rise and my cries starting to sound desperate. I’m begging him not to stop...
He groans loudly, his back arches, and he shudders so hard that it sets me off by itself. I clench around him, sobbing with delight, so completely into it that I hear myself screaming, but I don’t even care.
He settles over me and lays his head on my shoulder, and I wrap my arms around him and close my eyes.
I don’t know where my loyalties lie anymore. I don’t know if the fight to get that money back is worth it beyond having it. If his family or my family will ever just let us live as we are. I don’t even know if what Michael and I have is something that has a chance of lasting. However, as I feel him get up to get rid of the rubber, all I can think of is wanting him back in my arms again.
Have I lost the game here? Or have I won something I never expected?