I grab my cup of coffee, sweeten it, and set it on the island counter. I drag a barstool up to the counter and sit down, opening my laptop, to quickly order breakfast. That done, I have three things I want to Google: the Geminis (though I won’t, out of caution), the Martina family, and superstar pitcher Brody Matthews. I start with Adrian Martina, the man behind what might be Brody’s demise, and mine too, for that matter, if I don’t shut him out of Brandon Enterprises.
Twenty minutes later, I have a selection of pastries and egg-filled croissants waiting on Emily, and I’m not pleased with what I learned about Adrian. He’s not the typical gangbanger stereotype you think of in jeans and bandana, with a gun in his back pocket and an impetuous spirit and trigger finger. He went to school in the States. Graduated from Brown University with honors. Dresses better than most of the people in my offices, and has legitimate investments here. And yet, he is regarded as the heir to the Martina cartel, and right arm to his father, the acting kingpin. He’s also thought to have killed at least a dozen people with his own hands. And my brother is fucking his sister.
Scrubbing my freshly shaved jaw, I make another cup of coffee, pull another barstool into the kitchen for Emily, and then reclaim mine. Now it’s time to shift gears to Brody Matthews, and a search brings up several articles that confirm he punched a fan and then disappeared, both things that simply don’t compute with the man I’ve met. I dial Jessica, and she answers without a hello, getting straight to the point. “Oh King. Oh Master, my boss and leader. Why have you called me so early in the morning?” She firms her voice. “Seriously. Since you haven’t called me to bring you breakfast the entire year I’ve worked for you, what’s wrong?”
“I need you to get Brody Matthews’s people on the phone and get me a meeting. Tell them we want to offer him a seven-figure sponsorship for a new yet-to-be-made-public product line.”
“I’d be excited about meeting sir hotness himself, but are you aware that he punched a fan and is now MIA? Not exactly a good image for whatever project you haven’t told me about.”
“I have no intention of signing the man. I just need to talk to him. Make it sound as lucrative as needs be, to get him out of whatever hole he’s in.”
“Oh,” she says. “Then this is trouble.”
“I’m really sick of that damn word, but yes. It is.”
“This has to do with Derek in some way, doesn’t it?”
“Don’t all things have to do with Derek?”
“I’m dialing now. I might be a little late to the office or might not. I reserve that privilege, just in case I need it. I’m going to field the calls before I finish getting ready.”
“Understood.”
We end the call and I look up to find Emily standing in the archway beside the bar, watching me, dressed in an emerald-green blouse and a simple black skirt, her dark hair a silky veil over her shoulders. She is stunning. “Everything okay?” she asks, walking toward me and rounding the counter to stand beside me.
I turn the barstool and walk her into me. “Nothing from Seth yet,” I say, “but he and his men had to sleep.” I lift my coffee in offering, her floral scent teasing my nostrils, and I decide I could wake up to that smell every day pretty damn easily.
She settles on the barstool beside me. “I wish I could think no news is good news,” she says, “but no news is all I’ve had from my brother. And no news is what took me to my stepfather that night he died.”
“Seth will have news,” I promise. “And he’ll have it today.”
“I want answers and they make me nervous at the same time.”
I offer her my coffee and she accepts it, taking a sip, her lips touching where my lips just were, our eyes locking and holding, a new intimacy between us, an understanding that we are more than we were even yesterday.
I cover her hand where it holds the cup and take a drink, the air crackling around us, and she actually sucks in a tiny breath. My lips quirk and I set the mug down on the table. “Hungry?”
“Is that even a question?”
I laugh and motion to the room service plates. “I meant food. For now.”
“I know I was starving, but I don’t think I can eat, after all.”
“You have to eat,” I say, removing the lids to the food.
Her eyes go wide at the sight of the pastries and she sighs. “Okay. I can eat.” She grabs a small plate and I do the same.
We split a croissant, this idea of sharing my life with someone alien, but somehow with Emily it’s right. “That paper my father gave me last night was the deed to the apartment.”
“You got him to sell you the apartment?”
“No. I told him he was giving it to me.”
She gapes. “And he did it?”
“It’s all about knowing how to play his game.”
“Does that mean you want to stay? Or use it for an investment property?”
“Stay. It’s safe here. I know everyone. You’ll be safe here.”
“Don’t stay because of me.”
“We’re staying because it’s smart, but later, if you want to move, we can.”
“Shane,” she says, her voice cracking. “Don’t make decisions for me when I could end up behind bars.”
“Sweetheart, you have me for an attorney and you were afraid for your life. You aren’t going to jail.”
The doorbell rings and I push off the counter. “Seth and Jessica are the only two people who can get up here without notice. I’m betting on Seth.”
“Oh God. What if it’s bad news?”
I cup her face and kiss her. “Deep breath. There is nothing I can’t fix here.”
“Except the Geminis trying to kill us both.”
The bell rings again, and I run my finger over her lips. “Stop looking for the apocalypse.” I kiss her again and head for the door, but I silently relive my concerns over the Geminis threat, hoping for some kind of good news on that front.
I open the door and find Seth standing there, his black suit and tie and neatly trimmed blond hair as perfect as it always is, but his eyes are bloodshot. “I’d say good morning,” I greet him, “but you look like shit. You need to sleep.”
“I’ll sleep when I know where we stand. I need to have Emily look at a couple of photos for me.”
“Is there anything you’re about to say that will scare the shit out of her?”
“If the absence of answers scares her, then yes.”
I step back and silently invite him inside, already heading back to the kitchen. The door shuts behind me and I continue on to find Emily cleaning up our breakfast. I can see her hands trembling. And the only time she should tremble is from pleasure. I close the space between us as she sets our plates in the sink. I step to her side, aware of Seth joining us, and softly say, “He just wants you to look at some photos.”
“No news?” she asks, and turns to face Seth. “Nothing on my brother?”
He steps to the opposite side of the island and Emily does the same, while I move to the end, to have both of them in my sights.
“What I can tell you right now,” Seth replies, “is that there is no police report, missing person’s report, or notable activity of either brother or stepfather with law enforcement. It does appear your stepfather left the country, which he did frequently, so this fits his profile.”
“Only this time he’s dead.”