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“I appreciate that. You know I do. But he makes it hard to be good sometimes. He’s so fucking bad.”
Her expression turns somber. “You have to do what you have to do. He hurts people. He will hurt you. Maybe he did more than hurt Alana’s father. Protect her. Protect you. Protect this company.”
“I will.”
She gives a nod and heads for the door. “Open or shut?” she asks.
“Shut,” I say, and right about the time she seals me in alone, Blake calls.
I sit on the edge of my desk and answer, “Talk to me.”
“Things are in order. Our friend was cooperative, and so were his contacts. Kellan sat in on the conversations. More in person. How long are you going to be there?”
“I have a lot of unattended business,” I say. “I’ll need to be here today and tomorrow, and take work with me tomorrow. I’d like to leave for my Hamptons place late Friday night.”
“I’ll arrange a chopper service. Seven? Eight?”
“Eight. I have no idea what hell will come at me after the board meeting. I made reservations on the ride over here for me and Alana at Kristie’s for eight o’clock. She has work to do, but I suspect she’s going to be coming out of her own skin, trapped in that apartment. She’s going to want to go out.”
“She’s going to have to suck it up. We need her to stay safe. There are too many variables to risk exposure.”
“But things are in action?”
“Yes. Very. And moving quickly, but don’t expect much before tomorrow. That’s strategic.”
We disconnect, and I dive into work, expecting my father to show up at any minute and taunt me over Alana’s kidnapping. He does not. Per Simone, he’s out of the office and has been, as the press has frequented our front door. It’s not a good look for him. It reeks of guilt and cowardice. He’s smarter than that. So much so that when I’m ready to leave the office and I’ve seen nothing of him, it doesn’t feel right. In fact, it feels as if he’s up to no good. But then, isn’t he always? I have a sense of the calm before the storm.
Chapter Forty-One
Damion
Blake warns me about the hell waiting on me before I ever exit the office.
I step onto the sidewalk to cameras flashing, and by the time I’m at the apartment to pick up Alana, they’re waiting on us there, too. I’ve almost talked myself out of this public show until Alana greets me at the door, looking positively stunning in a knee-length, form-flowing red dress, her hair silk splaying around her shoulders, obviously ready for our night out. And holy fuck, she is every wet dream I ever had—quite literally, in this one moment, years of fantasizing about her, years of wanting her. I would not complain if this night ended with her hair splayed on my belly either, my cock as at attention as I am. Not that anything with Alana is just about sex, but holy fuck, I want this woman. I will never stop wanting her.
“Tonight,” she says, wrapping her arms around me, all her sweet, tempting curves pressed close to me, “I want to try the mac n cheese.” And when her lips part in a pretty red smile to match her dress—a genuine smile after all she has been through, and just because we’re together—all I can say is yes. Tonight, she’s getting her macaroni and cheese.
I slide an arm around her waist and fold her tighter into me. “We have company, though.”
She eases back and gives me a furrowed-brow look. “Please tell me it’s not your father.”
“Like that would ever happen. No, baby. The press is everywhere.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good, right? We’ll be printed everywhere tomorrow, and the board will see it before the vote. I kind of love how easy that happened.” She dips her brows all intense and orders, “Now take me to dinner. I’ve been trapped in this damn house all day, and I hear the plan is for me to repeat that the next two days. But word of warning—someone is taking me to the gym tomorrow to pay for tonight’s meal. I talked to Candace. She said I could go over to her place. They have a full gym.”
“You and Candace are getting along well.”
“We are,” she says, a pleased lift to her voice. “She’s the first friend I’ve had in a long time. Since college, when I got picked for the top thirty under thirty and my friend Kristie did not. She hated me for that. I knew that meant she wasn’t a real friend, and I don’t know—her, my parents—it started feeling like we’re all on an island by ourselves, pretending to be otherwise.”
But she was never alone. I always was one phone call away, yearning to be closer. The problem is, she had no idea.
My mind flashes back to the night she’d walked into the party and how she’d rocked my world. I’d watched her shine, even as I’d known her well enough to know she felt she was mud in a crystal blue swimming pool, dirtying things up. That night, I knew I couldn’t let her walk away. I knew I would never let her walk away. It had been the first night I’d touched her—really touched her. The first night I’d considered she could be mine, but my father had figured it out, had his snitches talking, and he’d sent me away the next day.
I’d been too young to fight back.
I’d decided it was for the best.
God, she’d been beautiful that night, as beautiful as a diamond glistening in a perfect light, and as far as I’m concerned, every light is the perfect light for Alana.
