"Right, after I finish bangin' her again later, seein' as the last time she didn't say a f.u.c.kin' 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 f.u.c.ked 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 s.e.x club watchin' a guy whip his b.i.t.c.h and work her p.u.s.s.y with his hand. s.h.i.+t 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 f.u.c.kin' 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 p.i.s.sed at Turner telling him something about Olivia f.u.c.king Shade was making him go hard.

Turner wasn't done.

"And if I was acknowledging the existence of this alleged s.e.x club, I'd ask how much VIP members.h.i.+p costs."

"Twenty-five thousand dollars a year."

"f.u.c.k."

"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 a.s.sistant 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 s.e.x club who got up and made my way to him, making it clear what I wanted.

A quick, hard f.u.c.k 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 s.e.x club after getting an o.r.g.a.s.m from a woman he'd never met, Nick Sebring would think he wanted more.

In the light of day, he probably thought differently. And even in the world in which he lived, if he didn't already have a steady woman who I'd a.s.sisted him in cheating on last night, he'd be looking for one who was absolutely not like me.

The woman he would look for would probably be like his brother's woman, Anya. Exceptionally beautiful, warmth radiating out of every pore. A woman who owned and operated a salon and had nothing to do with Knight's business. A woman so far out of our world, the only reason I knew what she looked like was because I saw her in her private section in Knight's nightclub, Slade, when I went there for a drink and to pick someone up to f.u.c.k.

I resolutely turned from my phone to my computer, where my email was on the screen.

I grabbed my mouse and hit refresh even though I'd only sent the email to David ten minutes earlier. A carefully worded request that was really a demand that he send all the accounts and other pertinent reports by noon that day.

Not surprisingly, David had not replied.

My eyes slid to my phone.

This had to stop.

I straightened in my chair, looked back to my computer and got to work.

Three Hours, Fifteen Minutes Later My phone sounded.

My eyes shot to it before I s.n.a.t.c.hed it up.

I stared at the text long enough for the screen to fade to blank.

Hotel Teatro. Six o'clock. I'll text the room number later.

Oh G.o.d, he'd texted.

G.o.d, he wanted to see me again.

I touched my thumb to the b.u.t.ton on the bottom of my phone to engage it. I went to texts.

I was about to reply when I stopped.

Sebring wanted one of two things.

A f.u.c.k from me, this time since we'd have a bed and privacy that f.u.c.k (maybe) lasting longer.

Or, less likely but still an option, he wanted to start something minimally real and somewhat normal.

Outside of what I knew of him, I did not know the man. I knew he looked good, sounded good and felt great.

But I knew nothing else. We hadn't kissed so I didn't even know how he tasted.

What I did know was that no man deserved the kind of ha.s.sle I could bring into his life.

I closed my eyes, feeling that realization settle around my heart so heavy, it felt like it was struggling to beat.

This surprised me since I lived with that sensation every moment of every day of my life. Except for some reason this heavy felt a lot heavier.

I put my phone down and turned my attention back to my computer.

It was half an hour later and I was at the espresso maker across the room finis.h.i.+ng making my second espresso of that morning when I heard the tone from my computer telling me I'd received email.

I went back to my desk and saw an email from David.

No attachments. No accounts. No reports. No files at all.

Simply a one line, two sentence email.

Perhaps we can make a meeting to go over what you need. Next Tuesday at 4:00?

We did not need to make a meeting. And it was Wednesday; the next Tuesday would give him a whole week to hide whatever it was he was intent on hiding and play on his history to recruit my father to shut me down.

I knew it.

So I wasted little time firing back, You may have another hour on your deadline. Please send what I requested by 1:00. If you don't, Gill will be at your office to collect what I requested at 1:30. Thank you.

I sent it.

Ten minutes later, I got a phone call.

It was David.

I ignored it.

At five after one, I started getting the files.

I opened them immediately and began going through them.

Three Hours Later It was fortunate David sent what I requested (except a good sight more than I needed), this keeping my mind off the fact that Sebring wanted me to meet him at Hotel Teatro and that I wanted to meet him at Hotel Teatro very badly even though I would not be doing that.

But, since David sent far more than what I requested (this suggested he was burying me under information so I wouldn't find evidence of wrongdoing), I was very busy.

Therefore I was engrossed in going through the order manifests of one of our legitimate companies when I heard the knock on my door.

My "Come in," was distracted.

I kept my gaze to the computer as I heard the door open and shut.

It took several seconds before I realized someone was in my office but they had not spoken.

I swiveled in my chair to turn my attention to the door.

Tommy was standing there.

Standing there looking at me.

Standing there looking at me with an expression on his face I could read.