Power Players Box Set- The Complete Series Page 8

  Part of me thinks she’d tell me to go for it. Another part of me fears she’d tell me to play it safe and focus on keeping my job at the Billionaire Club—the job she helped me get.

  I wish I could talk to my dad about it. I wish my dad could talk to me about anything.

  I step out of the car and I’m surprised to see the TV light flickering through the curtains in the front window. Jacie usually goes to bed at the same time as my dad. Then, I see it.

  My heart stops as I stare at the Polaroid picture taped over the peephole on the front door. I glance over my shoulder, looking up and down the street, but I don’t see any unusual cars. Taking a deep breath, I pull open the steel security screen door. Either Jacie forgot to lock it or someone picked the lock. More likely it was the latter, which is supposed to spook me. It’s worked.

  My hand trembles as I peel off the tape securing the photo over the peephole. It’s a picture of my father and Jacie lying peacefully asleep. The picture was obviously taken from inside the house. My hand trembles as I turn the photo over in my hand and I see two words scrawled on the back in red marker: 60 DAYS.

  Blood rushes like thunder in my ears as I try to open the door and it’s locked. I fumble with the key, my heart pounding in my skull, spots appearing in front of my eyes as I try unsuccessfully to slip it into the lock. It’s too dark out here. Someone turned off the porch light.

  “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God,” I whisper frantically as I slip my phone out of my pocket and tap the flashlight icon to illuminate the doorknob.

  Finally, I slip the key in and burst through the front door, panting and shaking with adrenaline. Jacie stirs and lifts her head from the pillow where she’s lying on the sofa. I clutch my chest as I let out a deep sigh of relief.

  “Kara, are you okay? You look like something spooked you,” she asks as she sits upright.

  I watch the gentle rise and fall of my father’s chest for a moment before I reply. “I’m fine. I just… I saw a bad car accident happen right in front of me on the way here. I’m just a little shaken up.”

  She glances at the photo in my hand and I quickly tuck it into the back pocket of my jeans. “Do you need something? Some tea or warm milk to settle your nerves?”

  I shake my head as I make my way to the hallway. “I’ll be fine. I just need to get some sleep.” And $140,000 in the next 60 days. That’s all. “Goodnight, Jacie.”

  “Goodnight, hun.”

  9

  Cash

  So, this is what it feels like when I fuck a girl then tell her I’ll call her later. Constantly checking my phone for missed calls and texts, checking to make sure I didn’t accidentally turn off the ringer, contemplating calling her to put myself out of this misery. I’m disappointed in myself. But I guess I can excuse this behavior by simply acknowledging what’s at stake: the possibility of supplying electrical power to hundreds of millions of third world citizens.

  Yep. That totally excuses my chick-like behavior.

  I hand the guy behind the counter at Starbucks a ten-dollar bill for my six-dollar coffee, and I almost tell him to keep the change, but that kind of tip for a barista will probably draw attention to me. And right now I’m trying my hardest to blend in, which is why I’m at a Starbucks instead of a bar, wearing a plain black T-shirt with some jeans, a Colorado Rockies baseball cap, and some cheap sunglasses I borrowed from Hector.

  I sit down at a table near the window and sip my black coffee as I open up my Facebook app to see what’s going on today. Most of my five thousand Facebook friends are people I don’t know, people my old assistant added as a courtesy. But she also created filters for my newsfeed so I only see the status updates of the people who matter to me. I’ve been thinking about friending Kara on Facebook to make our possible pretend relationship look more real, but I still don’t know her last name to look her up. I could easily ask Mick for it, but I don’t want to get her in trouble at work.

  The first status update at the top of my newsfeed is from Alyssa Frey:

  Ugh. I don’t care how hot it is or how many kids you’ve had. No one wants to see pics of your nasty body in a swimsuit. Unfriended!

  Alyssa is my friend John’s ex-girlfriend who I sometimes still party with. I tap her name to go to her profile and unfriend her. Then, I let out a cool, cleansing breath as I sit back in my chair. That felt good.

  In ten minutes of scrolling through my newsfeed, I’ve unfriended more than a hundred people and blocked two who seemed to think their opinions of me were worthy of a status update. I’ve never felt lighter. I’m about to unfriend another girl whose status update says “Some people need to get their shit together and stop texting me. Do you understand the words MOVE ON?” when a text notification comes through.

  Kara:

  We need to talk. Now. Shift starts in thirty minutes.

  I call her right away and she picks up after the first ring. “Are you okay?” I ask, because the tone of her text sounded urgent.

  There’s a bit of rustling on the other end before she replies. “I’m fine. I just didn’t want to call while I was home. It’s been kind of a…weird day.” She pauses to let out a deep sigh. “I’m on my way to work now, so I only have a few minutes to talk.”

  For some reason, I’m getting a strong vibe that she may be married, and that’s why she couldn’t call until she left the house. “Did you think about my proposal?”

  “Yes,” she replies quickly. “I’ll do it. But I have three conditions.”

  I chuckle as I get out of my chair and head outside into the stifling Vegas heat. “What are your conditions this time?”

  “Number one,” she begins. “We can never be seen together in public until the day of the retreat.”

  I walk through the Starbucks parking lot toward my car, where Hector and Dex are waiting in the front seat. “Uh…okay. That seems reasonable. What else?”

  “Number two: I can back out of this deal anytime before the retreat and you will not tell anyone about our involvement.”

  I smile as I slide into the air-conditioned backseat of the Mercedes. “All right. But that doesn’t include Hector and Dex, right? Because they’re always around. They have to know.”

  She’s silent for a moment as she thinks about this. “I guess they can know, but only them.”

  “Okay, what’s your final condition?” I ask as I hand Hector back his sunglasses.

  “No sex. We have to keep this arrangement strictly professional, so we can both stay focused on the end-game.”

  This time I don’t laugh. “You expect me to agree to that?”

  “Those are my terms. If you can’t agree to all three, then I can’t help you.”

  Why do I have a strong feeling her conditions are meant to reduce the risk of her getting caught cheating? And if she is in a relationship, then that whole spiel about not having had sex since she broke up with her boyfriend six months ago was a lie. Who the fuck is this girl and what the fuck am I getting myself into?

  I’ll find out who she is soon enough. I just have to figure out a way to get her last name without scaring her or sifting through her personal belongings. I’ll have to get her to slip up.

  “You’re on,” I reply confidently. “Come to my penthouse after your shift. We have a lot of work to do. The concierge will escort you up, so you don’t have to be seen with me or my bodyguards.”

  “I’ll be there. But don’t forget rule number three.”

  I laugh as Hector pulls the Mercedes out onto Tropicana Blvd. “Same goes to you, Miss I Can’t Remember How Many Orgasms I Had.”

  I hang up before she can retaliate, then I lean back and close my eyes. I have to remember not to push her boundaries too much on rule number three, otherwise she might enact rule number two, and I can’t have her quitting.

  Kara is perfect for this role. She’s smart, sexy, and strong. Stronger than she thinks she is. She’ll have no problem convincing the board members that she’s the kind of woman who can put me in
my place and make me settle down. Then, when this whole thing is over and the board decides not to fire me, I can fuck her at least one more time before I move on. Easy come—multiple times—easy go.

  Dex calls me from the lobby at 12:38 a.m. to tell me Kara has arrived and the concierge is currently escorting her into the elevator. I quickly end the call and race to the security room in the penthouse. The door in the hallway is labeled ELECTRICAL, and you have to pass through to the back of the electrical-slash-server room to find the door to the security room. It’s a small 8’x12’ room with a wall of monitors streaming security footage, where Hector is currently hanging out with his feet propped up on his desk, watching ESPN Classic on one of the monitors without sound.

  “Hector, I need you and Dex to go somewhere for a while.”

  He lowers his feet from the desk. “Is that chick here? What’s her name?”

  “Her name doesn’t matter. In fact, I’d rather you try to forget her name. Just go have a beer or something, on me,” I say, handing him a $100 bill. “Don’t come back until morning.”

  The left corner of Hector’s mouth pulls up in a knowing grin. “Oh, I see. This one’s gonna be an all-nighter. All right, boss.”

  “No, it’s nothing like that,” I insist and he winks at me as if he understands the need for discretion.

  I sigh as I follow him out of the electrical room. When I open the front door to see him out, Kara is standing there with her hand up ready to ring the doorbell.

  She looks a bit nervous as Hector passes by her on his way to the elevator.

  “Later, boss,” Hector says as he presses the call button.

  “Later, man,” I reply with a nod, then I turn back to Kara and flash her a warm smile. “Good evening, Future Mrs. Westbrook.”

  Her eyes widen and she glances over her shoulder to see if Hector is still there. He smiles and waves at her. She turns back to me, and I can see the fury in her eyes as she shoves her way past me into the penthouse. I wink at Hector as the elevator doors open and he flashes me a thumbs up as he disappears inside.

  I close the front door and nearly jump out of my skin when I turn around and find Kara’s nose right up to mine.

  “Do you think it’s cute to play with my job security? Because I don’t,” she says in a fatal whisper.

  “I’m not playing with your job security. I already told you that Dex and Hector have to know about us. And they’re bound by a rock-solid NDA, which they signed with their firstborn’s blood. I can guarantee you they won’t breathe a single word about what happens here. Okay?”

  She lets out a deep sigh and her shoulders relax. “This whole thing freaks me out,” she says, turning around to head toward the kitchen. “I feel like my face is going to be plastered on the cover of every tabloid soon. I was checking my rearview mirror for paparazzi on the way here.”

  I can’t help but laugh at this, but I immediately stop when she whips her head around and shoots me a deadly look. “Hey, you don’t have to worry about photographers and leeches unless news of our arrangement is leaked. And that’s not going to happen, so there’s no need to worry.” I follow her into the kitchen and reach into the cupboard for a glass to get her some water. “Listen, if it makes you feel better, once your background check goes through, I can program—”

  “Background check! You never said anything about a background check!”

  “Well, you had to expect that. If I don’t do it, my father will, and you’d rather I do it than him. Trust me.”

  She bites her lip as she stands in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the glazed concrete floor. “What kind of background check?” she says, her gaze still focused somewhere near my feet. “I don’t have a criminal history. You can check that out. And I’ve never been in a car accident or gotten a speeding ticket. You can check my driving record.”

  I take a tentative step toward her and slowly reach up to raise her chin. “Then, you have nothing to worry about. In fact, as a show of faith, I’ll program your fingerprint into the system now, so you don’t have to bother with the concierge next time. You can just come right on up. Okay?”

  She swallows hard then nods. “Okay.”

  I lead her into the security room and she still looks very tense as I record her fingerprint in the security software. She hesitates a moment when I ask for her last name, but after she says it aloud she seems to relax. I don’t think she realizes I’m only giving her a temporary guest pass, which will expire after one week. That’s about how long it will take to perform a thorough background investigation. If everything checks out, and I don’t find out she’s on the run from the authorities for murdering her last three husbands, I’ll extend her guest pass until after the corporate retreat.

  Once we’re back in the kitchen, she seems a bit more relaxed, but I decide to grab her a beer instead of water, just to continue the trend.

  She takes the beer without question and sits down on a stool at the breakfast bar. “Okay, where do we begin,” she says, looking up at me as I take the stool next to her.

  I chug half my beer and set it down on the counter before I respond. “I was thinking we should start with how we met.”

  “Well, Victor and Wyatt saw us meet in the Billionaire Club on Saturday night. Doesn’t that kind of ruin the plan of creating a fictional on-again off-again relationship?”

  I shrug. “Maybe we like to role-play. Maybe we were just pretending to meet for the first time.”

  “Great. So, now I’m into bad boy billionaires and roleplaying?” she says, then takes another sip of her beer.

  “What’s wrong with bad boy billionaires? And roleplaying, for that matter?”

  She shakes her head. “Should I be taking notes?” she asks, as she mimes writing on a notepad. “Cash likes roleplaying and bad boys.”

  “Very funny,” I say. “We really need to get this straight. I think we should say we met at a club on the Strip, just because it’s always best to make a lie as close to the truth as possible.”

  “But I hate clubs.” She reaches out and pokes me in the chest. “And you should know that if we’re getting married.”

  I glance down at my chest, then my gaze rises slowly until I’m looking her in the eye. “Do not poke me, young lady, unless you want to get wrestled to the ground.”

  She tilts her head and flashes me a smug grin. “Is that a threat or an offer? We mustn’t forget rule number three.”

  I press my lips together and shake my head. “You think it’s funny to taunt me and throw your little no-sex rule around at the same time?” I stand up from the stool and step forward until I’m standing between her legs. “Because I can dish it out just as well as you can.” I lean in close and she swallows hard as my mouth comes within a hair’s breadth of hers. “I will have your heart pounding, your tight little ass squirming in your wet panties, begging me to touch you… kiss you… lick you… fuck you…” I step back and smile at the way her chest is heaving with anticipation. “But I’m all about following the rules now. After all, that’s why you’re here. So, if you want to change your mind on rule number three, I will gladly fuck you until you can’t sit right for a week. But until then, don’t poke the beast. Got it?”

  10

  Kara

  The look on his face sends a chill through me. He’s fucking me with his eyes. The pulsing ache between my legs says I should throw rule number three out the window. But the warning signs in my head are telling me there is danger if I go down that road. Too much fucking equals too many opportunities to mistake this for something other than a business arrangement. I can’t allow that.

  “Rule number three stays, or I leave. It’s as simple as that,” I reply, crossing one leg over the other so he can’t get that close again.

  He smiles as he places his hands together in front of his chest and bows his head. “Rule number three is my new religion.”

  I roll my eyes as he takes a seat on the stool next to me again. “Does that make me the god of your
religion since I wrote the commandments?”

  He chuckles. “I’m willing to concede a certain level of control to these three rules, but you won’t reach God-level until I’m ready to worship you. I don’t think we’re there yet, sweetheart.”

  I nod. “Point taken. And I appreciate your bluntness. It will make this arrangement easier.”

  He shakes his head as he lifts the bottle of beer to his lips, takes a long draw, and sets it down gently before he turns to me. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  I swallow hard as I try to imagine what he could possibly want to ask me at this stage. “You can ask me anything you want, but I can’t guarantee I’ll answer.”

  “Fair enough,” he replies as he twists around in the stool so he can lean back with his elbows resting on the breakfast bar. “Until just now, I thought there was a good chance you were married, but now I realize you were telling the truth when you said you haven’t been with anyone in six months.”

  “Is that a question?”

  “No. My question is: How many times have you been with a man who proposed marriage?”

  I laugh. “How many times? That’s presumptuous. How do you know anyone’s ever proposed to me?”

  He shakes his head and casts me a sideways glance. “Don’t toy with me, Kara. I know your type. You’re afraid of letting anyone in because you’re afraid anyone who gets close enough to see the real you will realize they don’t like what they see. So, how many times?”