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Holy fuck.
I’m not into sweet shit, but this is next-level orgasmic food sensation, and I want more.
I eye her again. Her expression is so fucking naked and vulnerable that I put the cake down to focus on unraveling her a little more.
“Or close enough.” I cross the room with my drink and sit on one of the sofas. “Daddy kept you in in an ivory tower, didn’t he? Probably hoping a Prince Charming with buckets of money would come along and pop the question, giving you the charmed life you were groomed for. Too bad I’ve ruined you for him.”
She glares and dangles her glass in front of me. “I should throw this right in your pompous-ass face.”
“Because you want me to tie you down again? Beat that pretty ass and then fuck it?”
“Screw you.”
“That’s the idea, Scarlett.” I rub a hand down my thigh. “Look, you know what I am. I’m powerful, and that’s worth a lot. I’m letting people see us together, both the polite society and the not-at-all polite people who break laws and necks.”
“Like you. Freaking murderer.”
“They’re not going to be scared of the fucking Easter Bunny, baby.” I take a swallow of my drink as she finally sinks into the seat opposite me, on the other side of the coffee table. “And being scared of me and what I can do to them and their businesses works well for my purposes. But I don’t think you want to be stuck with me forever.”
I pause. But bless her sweet little heart, she bites back the bitter vitriol I’d bet my left nut is brewing and bubbling in her.
“And there’ll come a time whoever made the threats will surface again to risk actually doing something. Not to you but…”
She lets out a shaky breath. “My family.”
“Exactly. Help me help them, like I’ve already said. Your father claims he doesn’t have enemies, right?”
“He runs a business, doesn’t go around stealing businesses or trying to rip people off. He keeps everything low-key and doesn’t pry. He turns people away when they’re too busy. And those people mostly come back because they’re loyal, repeat customers, I guess.” She shrugs. “No enemies. I’m sure I’d know.”
Would she? But that really isn’t where my interest lies. “We need to see the client list.”
“There’s no way. Uncle Grant won’t?—”
“Scarlett, you need to help me get it.” The idea’s growing more delicious in my head by the moment. It’s an act of betrayal I’m asking of her. I’m just phrasing it like she’s helping them, and she’s good enough, loyal enough, innocent enough not to see the truth.
“Even if I wanted to try, I can’t access the locked systems. I don’t know if it’d be stored there or somewhere else. And the little I’ve seen of client information… on the invoices or the filing of emails… is all coded with numbers. Like I said, completely secure.”
“So you do sort the information?”
“Not exactly. Everything I see is scrubbed of anything that points to a specific client. And then they get categorized on the home computer system according to the codes set up. It’s all automated.”
“Tell me the codes.”
She’s quiet for a second, contemplating what she should do next. But fear must win out because my girl gives me exactly what I asked her for. And she basically just told me she’ll give me everything if I ask the right questions in the right ways. “Sesame for general emails. And then the number one for client invoices that I send out. But like I said, there’s nothing that will lead to a specific client. There’s no way for me to decipher any of it.”
I can use that as a working place to begin. We have some old stolen invoices and emails, and I’ll go over those and see where they might fit. Reconcile them against whatever I can find in the system once I get access.
Right now, none of it makes sense, but it will once I piece everything together and find the missing link. They’re burying details for a reason, and it’s only a matter of time before I figure out why.
“Go to bed. I have things to do.” I down my drink and smirk at her. “If you’re good, I’ll fuck you in the morning.”
Because I just can’t help myself.
It’s almost three a.m. when I get to Queens.
The car I’m driving is an average, secondhand Honda Accord. Nothing about it stands out. I made a call to the cleaner and she’ll take care of the guy’s body we left back in Brooklyn earlier.
With a heavy sigh, I slouch back against the cracked leather driver’s seat and peer through binoculars.
