“Had you not tried to take the company from him, he’d never have ended up involved with my brother.”
I arch a brow, surprised at how in tune she is with our business dealings, no matter how distorted her facts. “I’m not trying to take it. I’m going to save it. What does your brother have to do with Mike Rogers?”
“I’m not involved in any of this.”
“Oh no? You’ve already blown your chance at playing the ignorant card.”
“I’m not involved in any of this,” she says again, and while her voice is sweet, her track record innocent, she is right here in the middle of her brother’s world, and that’s damning to me.
“Is your brother involved with Mike Rogers?”
“I’m not involved in any of this.”
“You’re sleeping with my brother.”
“Who I care about.”
She says those words fiercely, her eyes flashing. She does care about him. And damn it, that is not good. That is a formula for death if Derek hurts her.
“If you really care about him,” I say, looking for a way out for Derek, “you’d get him out of your family business.”
She leans forward. “So you control everything? That company was Derek’s.”
“Then why did he just hand it to your brother?”
She sits back. “What do you want from me?”
“Ramon visited Emily this morning. I’m simply visiting you.”
“He can get to her and you can get to me,” she supplies.
“That’s right.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Yes,” I say, and when she blanches, I am surprised at how easily that reply came out and how little sympathy I have for her. She’s a Martina. She’s the enemy.
I exit the booth and start walking, never even considering a look back. I reach the door and push it open, stepping outside. A man I know from my research to be Ramon steps in front of me, giving me the attention I wanted, and I don’t back down. I close the small space he’s left between us, stepping toe-to-toe with him, our heights nearly equal, our gazes colliding. “I highly recommend the everything bagel,” I say, so he knows I know who he is. “You should take one to Adrian.”
I step around him and make it all of one step when I hear, “Careful which bear you poke.”
“Careful which lion you scratch, because he might be hungry.” I start walking again and I don’t stop.
Seth pulls to the curb and I round the vehicle, sliding into the passenger side, and we don’t speak until we’re in a parking spot in the garage of the Four Seasons. “This is a dangerous game you’re playing, my friend.”
“One you and your men need to decide if you’re willing to play with me.”
“How far are you willing to go?”
“As far as it takes to protect what’s mine.”
“Do you understand what that could mean with a man like Martina?”
I glance at him. “I do and I will not back down. The question is, are you in or out?”
He studies me, his eyes hardening. “I’m in.”
“And Nick?”
“I’ll talk to him.”
I give him a nod and open the door, ready to go to do battle, no matter who’s with me or not. I meant what I said that Martina had scratched the wrong lion. This one bites.
EMILY
I leave the Bentley for Shane. And since I’m feeling gun-shy about walking again, plus loaded down with my research on the new Brandon beauty and fashion line I’m proposing, I Uber my way to work, with a goal of being at my desk by eight. Once there, and walking into the building, dread fills my belly at the idea of dealing with stockholders over Brandon Senior’s cancer treatment. No. That’s not true. This dread is about my worry that Shane will already be here, perhaps having showered and dressed somewhere else. Maybe every excuse I gave him for being gone last night was my denying that we’re in real trouble. Suddenly not eager to go upstairs, I stop in the coffee shop to grab myself another caffeine boost and Brandon Senior the hot tea he likes, figuring I can warm it in the microwave if he isn’t here yet. I’ve just placed my order when a blond woman grabs my arm.
“Emily.”
I blanch at the realization this is Jessica and her hair has gone from short to long overnight. “Who are you?”
She laughs. “I look different, right?”
“Ah yeah. Where’s my friend and Shane’s spiky-haired assistant?”
She grabs a long lock of golden hair. “Extensions. I needed a new me, and I’ll tell you about that later. Is Shane here?”
“I don’t know.”
Her brow furrows. “You don’t know? Don’t you live together?”
Those knots in my belly get bigger. “He had meetings.”
“Oh okay. Well, pray he’s not in for me. I forgot to turn in a contract for a deal he’s closing for a sponsorship. He’s going to kill me.”
“You forgot something?”
“I’m human. Don’t tell. Grab me a caramel macchiato, will you?”
“Yes. Okay.” She starts to leave, and I grab her arm.
“Stick my briefcase on my desk, will you?” I ask, sliding my bag off my shoulder and handing it to her. “And my purse. I’ll charge the drinks.” I hand her that too but change my mind. “No. I’ll keep it, but text me a call sheet of which Brandon is in, including Derek.”
“Derek?”
“Yes. Derek.”
“I’ll get that piece of gossip later. Gotta go before your Brandon and mine wrings my neck.” She starts backing up. “No foam, but I want whip. No. No. Dieting. No whip. Low-fat or fat-free or whatever you call it.” She turns and then rotates back. “Damn it, I want the whipped cream.” And then she faces forward again and is gone, leaving my mind to go crazy with the places Shane could have been all night and now. I actually find more peace thinking about my missing brother, my murdered stepfather, and the hackers who could appear at any moment and make our lives more complicated. Okay, I don’t find more peace in those things, but they still trump the stories of Martina Senior ordering the beheading of fifty people for crossing him in Mexico, which I’d read about last night.
By the time I have a tray with four drinks in it, I decide I need to just hum that Jason Aldean song I was listening to while running, to shut down my mind for a few short minutes and pull myself together. I step into the elevator and am thankfully alone, so I actually recite the lyrics to the empty car. It’s an absolutely ridiculous idea that does nothing to help me. I need to do something, make a difference somehow, not check out. That’s what I did with Bobby J.
I press my hand to my face. Why does that piece of hell keep popping up in my head? Grimacing, I shake it off and head to the door.
Entering the lobby, I greet the receptionist, who’s on the phone, and then walk to the break room to stick the two teas for Brandon Senior in the fridge to ensure the milk doesn’t spoil. And since I have yet to get that warning text, I go to my desk, shove my purse in a drawer, and dial Jessica, only to have her round the corner. “No one is here. I have to go to legal on the second floor. Walk with me?”
“Yes. Okay.” I grab our drinks and cross to join her, offering her the caramel macchiato.