I could’ve stayed in my house with Sloane forever and been happy, but
unfortunately, I had real-life responsibilities that required my attention.
On Friday, two days after my night with Sloane and one day after I almost made her late to work with a morning quickie (she still hadn’t forgiven me for that), I sat in a glass-and-chrome office atop one of DC’s most coveted addresses.
Icy green eyes regarded me with impersonal scrutiny. “Xavier Castillo.” Alex Volkov’s voice matched the man: cool, distanced, pitiless. “You’re the last person I expected to ask for a meeting.”
Name number two on Kai’s list.
I shrugged. “Things change. People change.”
As CEO of the Archer Group, the country’s largest real estate development company, Alex owned half the real estate in Manhattan— including my dream location for my club. The turn-of-the-century, honest- to-God bank vault was located in the basement of one of Alex’s skyscrapers, and if there were two things my target clientele liked, it was bank vaults and hidden gems.
Alex leaned back and tapped a finger on his desk. He was the only person who hadn’t told me he was sorry for my loss following my father’s death. I appreciated it; I was getting sick of the pity.
“You’re aware of how much that location costs.” It wasn’t a question.
Eight figures.
“Yes. It’s not a problem.” I didn’t have access to my full inheritance yet, but thanks to my last name and Kai’s introduction, I was in the process of securing financing from Davenport Capital, Dominic Davenport’s company. Name number three. I’d sent Alex documented proof prior to our meeting.
“Permits and licenses?”
“Silver & Klein is handling it. They don’t foresee any issues.” The prestigious law firm was based in DC, but it represented corporate clients across the country. Jules Ambrose, Silver & Klein. Name number four.
Alex peppered me with more questions. I answered them gamely, but I knew his decision hinged on one factor—the one I didn’t have in my pocket for this meeting.
“Your pitch is impressive. Your paperwork is in order. But I’ll be honest,” he said after I addressed his concerns about potential competitors on the market. “I don’t buy that you’ve changed so much, so fast. You’ve never owned, started, or operated a business, and you have a well-deserved reputation for reckless partying.”
“I don’t know about reckless…”
“I’m also aware your inheritance hinges on this club,” he continued, ignoring me. “What happens if it doesn’t pass muster during its first evaluation?”
It was a good question, one I tried not to think about too often. The prospect of failing so spectacularly in the public eye was like falling off that bridge in my nightmares: terrifying, out of my control, and damn near inevitable.
“I understand your concerns.” I covered the sudden lurch in my stomach with a confident smile. Fake it till you make it. “But what I did in my past doesn’t define who I am now. Yes, I’ve spent the better part of my twenties
engaging in…other activities besides entrepreneurship, but as the progress I’ve already made proves, I’m serious about this.”
Alex stared at me, unmoved.
Dammit. Talking to the man was like talking to an iceberg—a low-key hostile one.
I searched for an argument that didn’t rehash what he already knew, and my eye caught on the single framed photo adorning his desk. In it, he stood next to a beautiful woman with long black hair and a sunny smile. Each held a baby in their arms; one was swaddled in pink, the other in blue.
Alex wasn’t smiling, exactly, but his face contained more warmth than I’d thought him capable of. He’d been married for a while, but I distinctly remembered a time when the cold, seemingly unfeeling CEO’s relationship with his now wife had made waves.
No one had thought he was capable of falling in love—until he did.
“You say you don’t buy that I’ve changed so much, so fast, but not all change is gradual,” I said slowly, forming my words as I went. “Sometimes, an unexpected event forces us to step up in ways we haven’t before, or we meet someone who changes our outlook. It happens every day. My father’s death was one of those triggers for me.” Sort of. But I wasn’t about to discuss my inheritance or my mother’s letter with a near stranger. “I’m not proud of the time I’ve wasted, but I’m trying to make up for it now.” I met Alex’s gaze with a steady one of my own. “Have you ever done something you regretted? Something you were desperate to fix but relied on someone, somewhere taking a leap of faith on you for it to change?”
He didn’t move, but a tiny glint of emotion flickered in his eyes.
“We don’t know each other well,” I said. “But I promise, if you take this leap of faith on me, I’ll do the location justice. Because it’s not just your name and reputation riding on this—it’s also mine.”
The ensuing silence stretched taut beneath the quiet hum of the heater. It was impossible to read Alex’s face, and just when I thought I couldn’t take
it anymore, his chin dipped a fraction of an inch.
“Bring on a business partner. If I deem them acceptable, the vault is yours.”
My heart soared and crashed in the span of five seconds.
It was a bigger concession than I’d expected from Alex, and it was exactly what I didn’t want to hear.
Vuk wanted the location confirmed before he signed on. Alex wanted Vuk or someone like Vuk attached before he confirmed. It was one hell of a catch-22.
The universe truly loves fucking with me.
“I’m way ahead of you.” I smiled, projecting assuredness I absolutely did not have. “I’m in the process of bringing Vuk Markovic on as a silent partner.”
“Good. Then producing a signed contract with him shouldn’t be a problem.” Alex checked his watch. “I expect the contract before Thanksgiving, Mr. Castillo. I’ve already received multiple offers on the vault, but since I’m intrigued by your proposal, I’ll give you a grace period. My offer expires on November 26 at midnight.”
“Noted.” I did a quick calculation of my odds between Vuk and Alex. I had an infinitesimally better chance of getting Vuk to bend than Alex, if only because he lived in New York and I could badger him more easily. “Thanks for your time. I appreciate it.”
Mental note: Go back to Vuk and figure out how the hell to get him on board. Not necessarily in that order.
I exited Alex’s office, my mind spinning with fragments of ideas and strategies. A flat wall-mounted screen played silently while I waited for the elevator. The big story of the day was the birth of Princess Camilla, Eldorra’s newest royal baby.
I envied her. Babies didn’t have to worry about bars and business. They just cried and slept and ate, and people still loved them.
Once I made it downstairs, I instructed the driver I’d hired for the day to take me to Harper Security headquarters. Every nightclub needed security, and Christian Harper provided the best.
Name number five.
I hoped my meeting with him went better than the one with Alex.
 |
Upside: my meeting with Christian did, in fact, go better than the one with Alex, probably because he got paid whether my club sank or swam. If he didn’t, he’d simply pull his services.
Downside: I had no clue how to get Vuk to sign a binding contract in eighteen days without a location.
I could try to secure another space. I had a list of backups in case the old bank vault fell through, but my gut told me they weren’t the right fit.
People’s first impression of a nightclub was its location. I wasn’t going to water it down and go with any old spot.
After my meeting with Christian, I swung by Silver & Klein’s offices to meet with Jules. She was their youngest senior associate, and she was handling all my legal paperwork, including licenses, permits, and contracts. She assured me she’d have a silent partner contract drawn up and ready to sign by early next week.
Instead of staying the night in DC, I took the train back to New York and spent the weekend devising methods to convince Vuk, ranging from aboveboard to, uh, ethically questionable.
The charges for temporary kidnapping couldn’t be that bad, right? It wasn’t like I was going to keep or kill the guy. He might kill me after, but once I made him a shit ton of money, perhaps he’d forget I hired someone to hold him hostage until he signed on the dotted line. Hypothetically.
The fact I was even considering that course of action, however jokingly, spoke to my desperation.
The weekend’s only bright spot winked into existence on Sunday. I’d convinced Sloane to meet me in Queens for a surprise, and the concrete weighing on my chest eased when I saw her at our designated meeting spot.
Queens was out of the way for both of us, but that was necessary given the circumstances.
She stood near the building entrance, resplendent in a white dress, coat, and boots. Her hair was back up in a bun, but a smile played on her lips as I approached.
“This better be good,” she said. “I’m missing brunch with the girls.”
I gave her a kiss hello, savoring her softness before I pulled back. “Consider this a Story Sunday.” At her questioning brow, I clarified, “A Sunday where you do something so exciting, you’ll have a story to tell at your next brunch.”
Her laugh unlocked a rush of dopamine, like a song I’d heard once and loved but never discovered the name of, only to stumble upon it again years later.
“That’s not a thing,” she said, following me inside. “But since we’re here, can you tell me what all the cloak-and-dagger stuff is about? Why are we in Queens on a Sunday morning?”
“You’ll see.” I took her down the hallway toward our reserved room. I’d checked in earlier, and I may have bribed the staff into letting us enter through the back entrance. “How’s Pen?”
Sloane sobered at the mention of her sister. “According to Rhea, she’s recovering quickly from her crash, which is good. And her injuries will heal in time. But…” She sighed. “I’m still worried, especially since Pen tries to brush these things off. She’s afraid it’ll make us coddle her more, which she hates.”
“And you can’t visit her again?”
“She’s been discharged from the hospital, and I can’t visit her at her house without alerting my father and Caroline.” Storm clouds rolled in, turning Sloane’s eyes blue gray. “Part of me is waiting for them to ship her off to a distant cousin in Europe. They’d do that just to spite me and make it harder for me to see her.”
I would say it was hard to imagine a parent doing that to their child, but as someone who’d practically been raised in boarding schools, I knew better.
I stopped in front of our room.
“But they won’t do that until they’re back from DC” I’d picked up some useful intel during my Friday meetings in the city: George and Caroline were both currently in DC for a big fundraiser.
Surprise rippled across Sloane’s face. “How did you know that?”
“I had to confirm their whereabouts before I did this.” I opened the door.
Sloane stepped inside, but she only made it two steps before her jaw dropped. “Pen?”
The brightest, most precious grin lit Pen’s face. “Surprise!”
She sat on the couch with Rhea, a bowl of complimentary snacks on her lap. Her nanny kept glancing at the open door like she expected George Kensington to storm through it at any second, but at least she was here. That was what mattered.
“What are you doing here?” Several long strides took Sloane to her sister. She hugged the tiny blond, her expression stunned. “How did you…?”
“It took some coordinating, but I had a friend pick up Rhea and Pen and drive them here.” The friend had actually been Harper Security personnel who could extract them from their penthouse without alerting the doorman, concierge, or anyone who might snitch on them to the Kensingtons.
We had a backup in case George and Caroline found out about Rhea and Pen leaving—specifically, movie tickets—but the plan was going smoothly, thank God.
“Before you worry, I also checked with Pen’s doctor,” I said, closing the door and taking a spot on the second couch. “He said it was okay for her to come, provided we keep physical exertion to a minimum.”
Sloane glanced at Pen, who affirmed my words with a solemn nod. “What he said.”
Apparently, her crash on Wednesday had been relatively mild. It’d seemed worse than it was due to her accident, and she’d recovered enough to make today feasible.
“Rhea?” Sloane turned her attention to the nanny. “Are you…?”
“I’m okay.” The other woman gave her a weak smile. “Mr. and Mrs.
Kensington bought your excuse about Annie. Thank you for doing that.”
“You don’t have to thank me. You wouldn’t have been in that situation if it weren’t for me, and I should be the one thanking you.” Sloane’s voice caught. “For everything you’ve done for me and Pen over the years.”
Rhea had been nervous about my plan given how close she’d come to being found out. However, she possessed an unwavering sense of loyalty to Pen and Sloane, more than she did to her employers, and she’d eventually agreed.
The look she gave Sloane now was that of family—soft, touched, and full of love.
Then the moment passed, and everyone broke eye contact before the fun outing turned into an emotional spiral.
“So where are we, exactly?” Sloane cleared her throat and took in the room, which was sparse save for the two couches, two tables, a media console, and a giant screen with a bunch of monitors and equipment hooked up to it. A smattering of artwork decorated the walls with primary colors.
“We’re at the best sports simulation center in Queens.” I opened one of the console drawers and took out four controllers. I held on to one and passed the others around. “You said Pen likes soccer, so we’re playing soccer.”
“I don’t like soccer. I love soccer,” Pen corrected. She was already flipping through the different games, searching for the perfect one.
“My apologies.” I suppressed a smile. Her sassiness reminded me of a certain other blond. “Who’s your favorite player?”
“Asher Donovan,” she answered without hesitation.
Typical. Girls of every age loved him, even if they weren’t into soccer the way Pen was, but I’d give credit where credit was due—the dude was talented.
It was just annoying as fuck that someone who looked like a Greek god could also play that well and, based on the few interactions I’d had with him, be that nice. It was even more annoying that he was Sloane’s client.
Whatever. As long as he wasn’t her favorite, I didn’t care. Much.
After I playfully riled Pen up a bit by informing her that Vincent DuBois was, in fact, more talented than Asher, we settled on a Euro Cup simulation. Sloane and Rhea dropped out halfway through, leaving me and Pen to battle it out for victory.
I didn’t consider myself a kid person. I liked them fine, but I couldn’t relate to people more than half my age.
However, Pen was awesome. She was more mature than half the grown- ups I knew, and she was a kick-ass player. She scored three goals on me in the first half, when I wasn’t even letting her win on purpose.
For a kid who looked so sweet, she was also pretty damn scary, as I soon found out the hard way.
When Sloane excused herself to use the restroom, Pen paused the game, turned to me, and asked with absolutely no preamble, “So. What’s going on
with you and my sister?”
I almost choked on my Coke while Rhea tried and failed to hide a smirk.
“We’re hanging out,” I said vaguely. I wasn’t sure how much detail I should share with a nine-year-old about my love life, but I had a feeling I should err on the side of caution.
“No, we’re hanging out.” Pen gestured between us. “You and Sloane are doing more.”
Jesus Christ.
I glanced at the door, willing Sloane to walk through it and put me out of my misery.
No such luck.
“We’re dating,” I clarified. I hoped like hell Pen wasn’t going to ask me what doing more entailed. I wasn’t going to touch that conversation with a fifty-foot pole.
“For how long?”
“Officially? A little over a week, but—” “Are you seeing other people?” “No.”
“Are you in love with her?”
“I…” A bead of sweat trickled down my back. I couldn’t believe I was getting interrogated by someone who came up to my hip. “I care about her a lot.”
I care about her more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. But I didn’t know if it was love. I’d never been in love, so I didn’t know what it felt like, but I should recognize it when it showed up, right?
A surge of anticipation leaked into my bloodstream, tempered by uncertainty.
“That wasn’t my question.” Pen pierced me with deceptively innocent- looking blue eyes. Behind her, Rhea’s shoulders shook with mirth. She wasn’t even bothering to hide her laughter anymore. “Sloane has never even
mentioned her ex-boyfriends, much less let me hang out with them, so she must really like you.” A jab to my chest killed the jolt of electricity her words elicited.
She must really like you.
“Don’t hurt her,” Pen warned, her little face fierce. “If you do, I’ll sic Mary on you.”
“I would never hurt her,” I said, and I meant it. The thought alone made my heart clench. After a short pause, I added, “Who’s Mary?”
“Show him, Rhea.”
Rhea, still laughing, pulled up something on her phone and handed it to
me.
A Victorian doll stared up at me from the screen with unblinking blue
eyes. She had black hair, a frilly white dress, and a smile made of pure evil.
It was the creepiest fucking toy I’d ever seen.
“My mother got her at an antiques shop,” Pen said. “She belonged to an English aristocrat’s daughter who was murdered by an unknown killer. Legend has it the girl’s spirit lives on in her favorite doll.”
“About ten years ago, someone tried to steal her from her old owner because she’s so valuable, but they died of mysterious stab wounds in their sleep,” Rhea added.
I couldn’t tell if she was joking.
Also, what the fuck? Who bought their daughter a possessed killer doll? Then again, I wouldn’t put it past Caroline Kensington. “Ah.” I shoved the phone back into Rhea’s hand before Murderous Mary climbed out of the screen and stabbed me. “No need to call in Mary. I’m not a doll person, and like I said…”
My tone gentled, turning serious. “I would never hurt Sloane. She means…” The world. “Too much to me.”
Pen’s frown remained for another beat before it melted into something more vulnerable. “Good,” she said, her voice small. “Because she’s been
hurt enough already.”
I hadn’t planned on getting punched in the gut by a nine-year-old today, but Pen’s aim was even better than her virtual soccer skills.
A burn spread from my gut to my chest, for Sloane and Pen. Both of them deserved better than what they got from the people who supposedly loved them.
“What did I miss?” Sloane’s voice punctured our bubble. I’d been so caught up in my thoughts, I hadn’t heard her return.
“Nothing,” Pen and I chorused.
“We were just taking a break,” I added.
“Because I was kicking his a—his butt.” Pen giggled when I sent a mock glare her way. “It’s okay. You’re the Vincent to my Asher. I’m just better than you.”
“Okay, that’s it.” I rolled my sleeves up. “No more going easy on you.
Now it’s really on.”
We traded insults and banter as the second half ticked down. I was too into the game to pay attention to much else, but once or twice, I caught Sloane staring at us with a strange expression. She averted her gaze every time I turned in her direction, but not before I picked up on the suspicious brightness in her eyes.
The four of us stayed at the simulation center for another half hour before Pen’s energy visibly flagged. She didn’t want to leave, but I could tell the day’s activities had taken their toll on her. I promised we’d come back in the future, and by the time the Harper Security guy picked her and Rhea up, Pen could barely keep her eyes open.
She did, however, muster enough energy to hug both me and Sloane goodbye. I never thought I’d get so attached to someone I’d just met, but a ferocious wave of protectiveness swept over me as I returned her hug.
Thank God she had Rhea and Sloane because the rest of Pen’s family could go straight to hell for ignoring her.
Sloane murmured something to Pen, who nodded, her chin wobbling, before she followed Rhea into the car.
“Thank you,” Sloane said as we watched their car disappear down the street. “That was…You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.” My mouth flicked up in a smile. “Though I might’ve changed my mind had I known how badly she’d kick my ass.”
Pen had won the game, seven to three.
Sloane’s small laugh lightened the heaviness following Pen’s departure. “Also, before you heap too much praise on me, I have a confession to
make,” I said, earning a questioning arch of her brow. “I…” I don’t want this day to end. I don’t want you to leave. I don’t think there’ll ever be a day when I want you to leave. “I made us dinner reservations at a restaurant nearby. They’re not until seven, so I guess we’ll have to spend the rest of the day in this area.”
“We do, do we?”
“I’m afraid so. We’ll have to entertain ourselves before I ply you with so many carbs, you’ll dream of pizza and noodles.”
Amusement glinted in her eyes. “I can live with that. I’ve had worse dreams.”
“Good.” I laced my fingers through hers and led her toward the main street. “Seb told me about this great ice cream place we have to try.”
“Seb?”
“Sebastian Laurent. He’s like a walking food guide.”
He was name number six on Kai’s list, but I already knew him, so it’d been an easy ask to have his team design and execute the Vault’s menu.
“Right.” Sloane’s palm was warm against mine. The breeze carried her scent into my lungs, and I instinctively squeezed her hand in response.
Sometimes, things got awkward after sex, but not for us. If it hadn’t been for Wednesday night, I might’ve not taken the leap and organized
today’s outing with Pen. Something between us had shifted that night, and I wasn’t talking about the sex.
Are you in love with her?
Pen’s question echoed in my head. It lingered for a beat before it dissolved into the memory of Sloane sleeping in my arms. She’d curled into me, her body pressing against mine, her face free of any waking worries. I’d forced myself to stay awake just a bit longer so I could listen to her breathing.
I didn’t know why, but it brought me the most overwhelming sense of peace and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
A loud rustle yanked me back to the present. It was the type only a large animal could make, but when I searched the overgrown bushes surrounding the simulation center, I didn’t see anything.
Huh. Weird.
I shook my head, blinking away phantom sounds and the ghosts of Wednesday night. What would a large animal be doing in the middle of Queens anyway?
Whatever it was, I must’ve imagined it.
