“We already know that, Nick. Vincent rules that warehouse with an iron fist, but he tried to form a stable of girls six years ago and Georgia lost her mind. With two women set to inherit that dried-up dynasty, whores are not on their agenda. With them not even allowing whores, neither of the sisters knew he was involved in human trafficking. Think that’s the only thing that would have the Shade sisters breaking ties with their old man.”
That also made him uneasy. The fact that Olivia was his entry to tearing down Vincent Shade’s world. To gaining access to Gill Harkin and blowing a hole in his head just like that man had done to Hettie. To dismantling everything Shade.
Which meant both sisters would lose everything when neither of them had been involved with what had happened to Hettie.
But they lived that life. They stood by their father’s side. They did their jobs.
Sometimes you got away with dealing day to day with the devil.
Sometimes you got burned.
“Nick,” Turner called when Nick said nothing.
“Nature takes its course, I’ll walk away. But the time is ripe, Eric. So I’ll work my plan until that happens or until I get what I need. It’s in motion now. There’s no other option.”
“Please be safe,” Turner replied. “At least Georgia Shade has blood pumping in her veins. She likes a good fuck a lot more often than her sister. She likes a good time too. She’s got a life and she lives it. But outside of what Vincent tried to do to resurrect their operations six years ago, it’s widely considered Olivia Shade is the quiet brains behind their ventures and if it wasn’t for her, that family would have disappeared from the scene years ago.”
“I did gather this intel before I started this gig,” Nick pointed out.
He listened to Turner sigh.
“We done?” Nick asked.
“You get anything useful about that dead soldier, would make some folks happy in the DPD they got an even anorexic lead.”
“Right, after I finish bangin’ her again later, seein’ as the last time she didn’t say a fuckin’ word to me, I’ll ask if she feels like turnin’ rat and givin’ me somethin’ so the cops can nail someone in her crew, or out of it, for making a dead soldier.”
“You fucked a woman who didn’t say a word to you?” Turner asked.
“Yep,” Nick answered.
“And you got her number?”
“Yeah.”
Turner sounded more than mildly curious when he asked, “How does that work?”
“We were at a sex club watchin’ a guy whip his bitch and work her * with his hand. Shit happened and I had her against the wall. After, I told her I wasn’t done with her. She wrote her number on my palm. That’s how it worked.”
“Jesus, made of stone or not, Olivia Shade is fuckin’ gorgeous so I’m gettin’ hard just thinkin’ about her writing her number on my palm. Seein’ as I’m at work, not even gonna think about the other.”
And Nick was not going to think about why he immediately and unfathomably felt pissed at Turner telling him something about Olivia fucking Shade was making him go hard.
Turner wasn’t done.
“And if I was acknowledging the existence of this alleged sex club, I’d ask how much VIP membership costs.”
“Twenty-five thousand dollars a year.”
“Fuck.”
“Lucky you know the owner.”
“No I don’t.”
That made Nick chuckle.
“Stay sharp,” Turner ordered.
“Later,” Nick returned.
They disengaged.
Nick tossed his phone to the counter and moved through his place to his bathroom to take a shower.
He was at his desk in his office three and a half hours later when he texted her.
Hotel Teatro. Six o’clock. I’ll text the room number later.
He did not identify himself.
She made him wait.
In fact, she didn’t reply until he’d sent his assistant to check in, got the room number and texted it to her.
Which was at four fifteen.
And when she did, she only texted, 6:00.
That was it.
A cool customer.
But absolutely not made of stone.
Chapter Five
Funny
Olivia
8:15 a.m. – Nine Hours Earlier
Sitting at my desk, I wasn’t working at my computer.
I was staring at my cell phone.
This was stupid.
Insane, really.
But I was and I was doing it in hopes he’d call or at least text.
As I’d been doing since I got home last night, late, wanting him to say something, start something, give me a reason to explain why I believed, why I responded to him the way I’d done.
This was insane too and not simply because, to start something, something minimally real, something somewhat normal, would be dangerous but also because I’d been the woman sitting next to him at a sex club who got up and made my way to him, making it clear what I wanted.
A quick, hard fuck with a stranger.
Did something real or normal start like that?
I had no idea.
I just doubted it did.
But I was wanting it, hoping for it, glancing then staring then glaring at my phone like I could make magic happen and get it.
And I needed to stop doing that.
Perhaps in the heat of the moment in an intimately lit sex club after getting an orgasm from a woman he’d never met, Nick Sebring would think he wanted more.