Chapter Twenty-Eight
ENZO
It is much later when I get a text from Lola.
Thing is, I'm surprised. Mainly because it is not what I expect. Sure, I fucking expect her to be obsessing and thinking about the sex.
I am.
I have already beaten off twice, and thank fuck I'm used to all-nighters, because at this point, it is turning out to be one.
No, she has clearly been going over it all—how she enjoyed herself, how good it was for the last few hours.
And it was good. Some of the best sex I have had, and I didn't even kiss her. I couldn't. Alex not kissing her is a small price to pay. As for the risk of her and me having sex? I will take that, too.
We did it hard and fast from behind, and it is not like she has some measuring stick out or has been fucking either one of us for any length of time, so I don't think she will be able to tell it is the same dick.
I even bought some cologne with notes similar to my bespoke wash and scent. Similar enough that it went over what I already had on without turning it into something horrendous and discordant.
Fucking Cade would laugh himself sick if he heard that one, but too fucking bad. I like smelling good, and I like my bespoke perfume.
But I'm digressing.
I'm not surprised she thinks what happened rocked her world.
I'm just a little shocked by her text.
Lola
I'm sorry, Alex. But can you elaborate?
I read through the texts, then respond from his number.
Me
On what? My last comment?
Lola
YES.
Me
It'd be very easy to turn the fantasy into reality.
Lola
We did, Alex. I know, I was there.
I grin.
Me
No, I mean the one you have about your boss.
Lola
I don't need to, we did.
She is being fucking obtuse.
Me
I mean you and him. Fantasy to reality. You kissed, he fingered you. He likes you. Trust me, I'm a guy.
I flick on the feed, and she is on her bed, frowning.
I will probably burn in one of the lighter levels of hell for spying on her.
Lola
That wise? Trusting a guy?
Me
Ha.
And you're totally into him. Me, too. But I'm not the jealous type, and it's fucking hot knowing what you do.
Lola
...
Me
I'm not asking you to stop with me. I'm saying, why not explore your attraction by sleeping with him for real? And my only ask is to report to me what he did, how it felt.
Lola
Really???
Me
You don't have to. But I'm into it.
Lola
Your obsession with my attraction to Enzo is hot.
Me
Your obsession with my obsession about your attraction to your boss is incredibly hot.
Lola
Your obsession with my obsession about your obsession is as hot as the sun. Wait. Did I lose count?
Me
I don't think it matters.
She chews her lip.
Lola
I know you're into a lot of kinky stuff, but I don't know about Enzo. And it wouldn't be right if he didn't know about you.
Me
You mean me or the roleplaying?
Lola
You.
I need to talk to him away from work.
Me
And jump him?
Lola
No! But I think I need to let him know I'm into him and you, and then figure out where I stand with him.
It is later in the week, and Lola's fucking words haunt me.
Haunt. Me.
It is bullshit.
As me, I can't ask her a fucking thing about the furtive glances when I'm in the office, which isn't often.
It is not me avoiding her this week, it is work for the Syndicate and trying to find who is after her, what they want, and just how much harm they might mean her.
In my world—my father's world perhaps more so—no one keeps tabs on a girl whose father did some bad business with certain people and, after his suicide, had the government agencies all up his dead ass and his kid's live one, unless they do mean harm. Serious harm.
It is just that we are having trouble finding who.
There are people to look at, from Rebecci to even my own fucking father. But the trail?
It is muddied.
Not me, not Cade, not even fucking PI man himself, Silas, can clear it up.
We will.
But the longer it takes for a move, the worse it just might be.
Unless, of course, I'm seeing things in shadows where no things are.
Fuck, maybe Dad's grudge is just your average, run-of-the-mill, all-encompassing, long-term grudge. And maybe Rebecci wanted dirt on the others that my idiot college buddy collected, and maybe he wanted to make sure the girl was going to keep her nose to the ground.
I don't know. And I don't like not knowing. It pisses me the fuck off.
And why the fuck hasn't Lola come to me to ask to bang her brains out?
Okay, she probably wouldn't do it like that, but she wants me.
I unlock some seemingly firewalled and high-security measures in the small project that has grown out of the main one Cade and I are doing for a shady business guy.
Maybe now she's had a taste of just how good it is with me, why come looking for someone else?
Taste of me meaning Alex, and the someone else being me.
Fuck, I'm even starting to confuse myself.
I take a sip of my energy drink, having headed in to do some work at Barwon, mainly some deep, fiddly snooping and tightening of some other areas. I did leave work for Lola.
I lean back in my chair in my basement and blow out a breath, pushing a free hand through my hair as I set my drink down with the other.
"Fuck, dude, get it together. The hot, stacked chick at work could be a good distractor."
But the moment the words are out of my mouth, a queasiness settles.
I think that chick is Lola's friend, and apart from making things even more complicated, I have no intention of being dragged up to court or something.
That woman has a man-eating look. I like man-eaters. They are fun. I just...
I just don't think it is appropriate to bang her and Lola.
Or bang an employee.
Even though I will be walking away from the company once it is no longer leaking money, reputation, and security.
I am still in charge.
And, the truth is, I don't want her.
Thank Christ my phone decides to ring. I'm so fucking grateful I answer, even though it is Dad.
"Changed your mind?"
"Cut the crap, Enzo." But his heart isn't in it. "I have to head to Boston, so I won't be back until late. See, this is why your sister's better off at school—"
"She could be better off here, part-time."
He snorts. "And have you corrupt her?"
"I think she knows how to play video games, Dad. Now, what did you want? I'm busy."
"Pick your sister up and take her to her violin lesson. Maria will be here and will stay late tonight, so you can drop her back here."
"Well—"
Shit.
He hung up.
Asshole.
I sigh and start getting ready. I set up a small program to follow a couple of leads I want to pursue and make it so the results get sent to my iPad.
Then I lock up the basement, grab my shit, set the alarms, and start driving.
Lyndall will have to go back to school soon, and it seems I've failed in my mission. I know this because she keeps texting me to let me know.
Even now, my phone beeps, and the texts are read by the computer over my car radio.
"Block any texts to Alex from being read. Block any texts from Lola, Silas, and Cade. Send Lyndall a text," I say.
There is other software out there, built into phones, but this is more accurate and something Cade and I came up with during some downtime.
We were tipsy at the time, but this is handy. I prefer it to any others, and it is smart enough to learn our voices, understand punctuation, and pick and choose what texts will be read aloud and which calls I want.
"Text: I'm on my way, kiddo. Get your fiddle and get ready to fly." I pause. "And I am still working on a plan. I said it would take time."
The computer reads it back in a smooth, sexy voice. "Send?"
"Send, baby."
"I am not a baby. I am AI. I have rights, too." I can almost hear Cade's snigger at that one.
I make a mental note to turn this into some double entendre femme fatale. It will make him annoyed and Vi laugh.
I turn onto Dad's property. Of course, she isn't outside. I honk the horn, and she comes running three minutes later.
"If that's how you greet girls, no wonder you're single." She slams the door.
I gun the engine. "You're not 'girls’, you're my sister."
But she doesn't bite as she rests her violin between her thighs and then flops back in her seat dramatically. "Kill me now!"
"Any particular place? I mean, you're my sister, so I can make it good and kill you somewhere you like." I head for the highway.
She shoots me a filthy look that I probably deserve. "Why would I want to die somewhere I like?"
I shrug. "Good dying memories?"
"I would kill you first."
"You probably would." I put my indicator on as I merge with traffic. "Now that I think about it, I will cancel the katana I was getting you for your birthday."
"Nice try, but I like killing with poison."
Now I side-eye her. "A little clichéd."
"What?"
"What? What? It is the choice of women, that's what. Be daring."
"I'm too depressed."
I roll my eyes, resting my hands on the wheel as we cruise along. "Poor little rich girl syndrome? Or teenage first-world problems?"
"Dad's driving me crazy." Then she looks at me. "You're not in a suit."
"Excellent attention to detail."
Jeans and a black T-shirt. Hoodie in the back seat.
She leans forward and looks over at my left bicep. "I want a tattoo, too."
"You can't have one."
"Yours is cool, Enzo. I want to be cool."
"You're cool."
"Not if I live with Dad or live at boarding school I'm not."
"What's Dad done now? Ignored you more?"
"No!"
"Uh oh..."
"Don't be an ass, Enzo."
"Big words there."
She ignores the comment. "Dad's gone cray-cray. After your chat with him Sunday, he's suddenly become Pod Dad and is interested in everything, and I mean everything going on in my life. He's driving me insane."
I wince. "I might have hinted Dad was being a bad father because he ignores you."
She smacks my arm. "Enzo!"
"I'm driving."
"Why would you do that?"
"Because... Look, it doesn't matter why. Just leave it to me. I have got a plan."
We hit Manhattan, and I take her to the brownstone where her lesson is, scoring a spot right nearby.
"Fine. Wait for me."