The Rag had even run some report on him that claimed he was the new Howard Hughes. Red Jameson had gone completely insane and was now living on a tropical island under an assumed identity with a new face given to him by a willing plastic surgeon.
The sad part of it was, Nicole thought it possible that the article in The Rag was accurate. For all she knew, Red had made sure that he could never be found and would never enter her life again in any way.
Mostly she told herself it was for the best.
But most of the time, Nicole also knew it was a lie. She missed him and she ached for him in every cell of her body—wept for the loss in deepest part of her soul.
Nicole didn’t care if he was crazy, didn’t care if he was bad news. She just knew that she loved him and he loved her, and hoped maybe someday he’d figure out what something like that was truly worth.
Lately though, Nicole had started to feel like the connection might be lost. Lately, she’d started to wonder if the man she thought she loved even truly existed, or ever had existed.
How ironic it was, then, when she and Danielle were home from the dance club, slightly tipsy, getting ready for some Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and a little bad reality TV before bed—that Nicole’s cell phone rang and she instantly knew it had to do with Red.
The connection that she feared was gone, never to return—was as alive as a downed power line, sparking and dancing on an empty street.
Before she even answered, Nicole knew it would be about Red.
“Hello,” she said into the phone, her heart pounding like mad in her chest.
“Hello Nicole,” came the reply. It wasn’t Red, though. It was the man who’d helped destroy him. The voice belonged to Kane Wright.
“Don’t ever call me again,” she rasped. “I don’t know how you got this number—“
“Let’s dispense with the hysterics,” Kane said gently. “I’m calling because I want to see you and speak to you.”
“I don’t have any interest in that,” she said.
“I’ve gone out of my way not to hurt Red Jameson because of you,” came his response in that slightly accented, cultured voice. “But if you disrespect me, I might decide to completely crush the man instead.”
“Isn’t owning his company enough? What more do you want?”
“I think we both know the answer to that, Nicole.”
She bit her lower lip. “What do you want from me?”
“Just a meeting. Agree to meet with me. You don’t have to do anything else.”
Danielle was watching her with wide, concerned eyes.
“So if I meet with you, you’ll leave Red alone?” she said.
“Please, this isn’t some Hollywood film starring Liam Neeson,” he laughed. “I’m not a movie villain, Nicole. The terms are constantly changing and I make no promises. But if you at least meet with me, there’s a chance for things to work out. And that’s something, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know if it’s worth it.”
“I promise I won’t bite. Give me a few minutes of your precious time, hear what I have to say.”
Nicole swallowed, knowing her answer was probably going to change her life, and possibly Red’s too.
“Yes,” she said.
FOR HIS HONOR (FOR HIS PLEASURE, BOOK 4)
Kane Wright told Nicole to meet him at his club, Venture, located in the Meatpacking District. Danielle wanted to go with her to make sure she was safe, but
Nicole told her to stay home.
“Who will call the cops if both of us go missing?” Nicole asked her. That shut Danielle up temporarily.
But as the taxi had pulled up outside the apartment and Nicole readied herself to leave, Danielle stood in front of the door. “This is a really bad idea. Why are you still fighting for him, Nic?”
Why am I still fighting for Red?
She didn’t bother trying to answer, because there was no answer—at least, nothing that would satisfy Nicole’s overprotective roommate. Nicole was fighting for Red because she had no choice, and because despite everything, she still knew that he loved her and would have done it for her had the situations been reversed.
The taxi ride was long and the neighborhoods got worse and worse as they closed in on the address for the club.
Finally, just when they reached the most run down, desolate spot of all, the cab slowed and the driver announced that they’d arrived.
Standing outside Venture, Nicole was regretting that she didn’t have Danielle by her side. The cab took off before she had a chance to ask the driver to wait a moment until she was safely inside.
The street around her was empty, and she was surrounded by urban decay—buildings that looked unused, crumbling. She thought there were likely several thriving crack houses in the area.
The club itself appeared to be closed, but she could hear the steady thump of industrial music coming from within.