“It’s not as if he’s going into politics. He won’t care that he’s been filmed putting it to a stripper. He’s from Texas. He’d probably get a medal for demonstrating his red-blooded all-Americanness.”
She suspected Brody would care a whole lot, but not because his thrust-and-spill was on camera. No, he would care because it would look like she’d set him up.
“You’d better think of something, Emma. Pin in the condom—that’s what women still do to trap men, right?”
“I’m not getting knocked up,” she gritted out. “Like I said, he’s harmless. Not even that good in the sack. Even with a hole the size of Texas in the condom, his little swimmers probably wouldn’t make it.” Never mind that one look at his chest, and her uterus screamed to be filled now.
Ray’s laugh was all villainy. “Oh, how the high and mighty have fallen. I think you need to consider your position. Broke, homeless—” At her hitched breath, he continued. “Yeah, you didn’t think I knew about that and guess what else I know. You work for him. You’ve already laid the groundwork here to get him to pay a fortune with your damsel in distress routine. I want something I can use on Kane, or I’ll start dealing with him directly and the video goes public. You’ve got two days.”
He hung up. Emma stared at the phone for untold seconds, her mind seesawing with panic. And a plan that could be encapsulated in one word: run. Grab Kevin, pick up Daisy, and lie low in a swamp in Louisiana or somewhere. Because even if she had the chutzpah to ask Brody to pay off her debt, it wouldn’t be enough for Ray now. The golden egg was too attractive for that prick to pass up.
Damn your pride, girl. What in the hell use was it to her this minute? She should have confided in Brody sooner—about Daisy, the debt, how Ray wanted her to work him for profit. She could see how that conversation would go now.
Well, it’s like this, babe. Telling you I was stripping to help out my drug addict sister was just so embarrassing. Then I didn’t want it to look like I was selling my body for a roof over my head, yanno? But hey, turns out my loan-shark strip-club boss has a video of us doin’ the deed, so maybe you might want to cover my debt after all and throw in a little bonus to keep him from bringing a world of shame down on you and your family. We take Amex and cashier’s checks!
A loud thud dumped her out of that nightmare conversation. Emma froze. What if it was Ray, following up on his videogram in person? She quickly dismissed that thought. Not even Ray could get past the doorman on the first floor.
She crept forward, wishing there were a peephole, but that wasn’t really penthouse-door style.
“Brody, open up,” Olivia called out.
Relief flooded her chest and she pulled open the door. “Hey, Brody’s not here.”
Disappointment clouded Olivia’s pretty features, uncertainty that seemed strange on someone so strikingly confident. “Oh, um…” She turned to leave, then seemed to think better of it and stepped inside. “I was hoping to see him. We were supposed to go to dinner tonight but he bailed and he’s not answering his phone.”
“I think he went out with Flynn, one of his business partners.” Brody had actually texted her to say he’d be late because Flynn needed some guy time. That he had bothered to inform her at all had made her chest glow at the domesticity of it all.
Olivia nodded absently, her vacant gaze sharpening as she arced it over the all-white living room. A couple of colorful throws Emma found in one of the guest rooms made it less “padded cell chic.” With Kevin curled up on the sofa, an open book on corporate restructuring Emma had plucked from the library, and her half-eaten PB&J, the space looked positively lived in.
“The white was doing my head in,” Emma offered into the lengthening silence.
“His ex-fiancée decorated it.”
Oh.
Olivia took a seat near Kevin and gave him a rub. He did his usual who the f*ck
are you hissing thing, but Olivia seemed not to notice.
“He’s like that with everyone at first. He’s only just started to warm up to Brody.” She swallowed her nerves. “Could I get you anything? A drink? A sandwich?” A knife in case your stabby eyes of death don’t cut it?
Olivia shook her head but otherwise remained silent. Did Emma have to do everything herself, including opening the awkward conversation on her intentions toward the poor defenseless billionaire?
“How would you like to do this? Is there a standard spiel you give to unsuitable women for your brother or do you vary it up depending on the recipient?”
Brody’s sister’s eyes flashed, and her mouth quirked slightly in admiration. So like Brody.
“How long have you known my brother?”
“Subtext: Am I here to bilk him out of everything he owns?” Damn, Chardonnay likely knew shit about “subtext.”