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By the time they slid opposite of one another into the Naugahyde seats that were patched in numerous places with duct tape to hold together rips and tears, Remy’s annoyance was clearly obvious because, from across the scarred wooden table, Tempest grinned at him.
“Wow, that scowl on your face is something else,” she said, amusement threading through the feigned awe in her voice. “I think it’s cute, but don’t worry, to anyone else, it’s as intimidating as hell.”
Her teasing comment alleviated the tension in his body and made him relax and inwardly smile. “I’ll give you cute,” he refuted on a low, playful growl that stayed between them. “By laying you across my knee and putting my handprint on your ass so you won’t forget that you’re mine.” He hadn’t meant to sound like such a possessive caveman, but clearly Tempest brought out that side of him.
And she liked it, too, judging by the telling flush that swept across her cheeks as she leaned across the table toward him. “I hope that’s a promise, Mr. Lowell, because I think I’d really enjoy getting a spanking from you.”
His palm tingled at the erotic images already filling his head—with Tempest bent over his lap and his hand marking her soft flesh as she cried out in pleasure—and his dick wasn’t far behind. Jesus, he’d fucked her less than an hour ago. He should have been sexually content, but Tempest and her suggestive, unabashed comments had him on the verge of dragging her out of this place to have his way with her again.
Stifling a groan, he shifted restlessly on his side of the booth, while Tempest set aside her menu without even looking at what the place offered, then clasped her hands in front of her on the table.
“You already know what you’re having?” he asked her curiously.
She nodded. “I’ll have whatever you’re having. You can order me the same thing.”
She was completely serious. Not even knowing what he liked or what he’d pick—hell,
he could have opted for liver and onions for all she knew. She was bold and adventurous and game for anything. It was one of the many things he enjoyed about her.
This time, he didn’t question her choice or even follow that up with an are you sure? When their waitress arrived at their table with a fresh bowl of peanuts and asked if they were ready to order, he told the girl what they wanted.
“We’ll each take one of your Fat Burgers and whatever Guinness you have on tap.”
“Sounds good,” she said, then collected their menus and left their table.
“I can’t wait to see what a Fat Burger is,” Tempest said, actually sounding excited about the pub’s specialty as she cracked open a peanut shell, ate the nut inside, then didn’t hesitate to toss the hulls onto the concrete floor like everyone else in the joint as she glanced around the pub. “I like this place. It has character.”
“Almost too much character,” he said with a laugh, though he couldn’t deny being surprised at how at ease Tempest was in this environment, considering her family’s wealth and how she lived.
Which made him think of her brother, Maddux, and the shocking news that he’d been shot shortly after the fairy-tale ball. Not fatally, thank God, and while Remy had reached out to Maddux a few days after it happened to express his concern and to make sure his friend was okay, he didn’t know any details. At the time on the phone, Maddux had told him that they’d have to grab a drink because it was a long story, but their schedules hadn’t aligned. And Remy had heard that Maddux was now living with a woman, and that was obviously occupying the other man’s time, too.
He waited until their waitress delivered their glasses of beer before cracking open a peanut and broaching the subject with Tempest. “So, how is Maddux doing after being shot? I spoke to him briefly just after it occurred but not since.”
“He’s doing well.” She took a drink of her beer and used her tongue to lick the bit of foam off her upper lip. “It gave us all a good scare at the time, but he’s already back to work. A bullet is not going to keep my brother down.” She grinned.
He smiled back. “Do you mind me asking what happened to cause him to get shot?”
“It’s a crazy story, actually.” She fiddled with a peanut shell before flicking it onto the floor, her demeanor changing. “And a complicated one. I’m not sure where to start.”
“How about from the beginning?” he teased.
She hesitated a few beats before replying. “Okay. The beginning of the story takes us back fourteen years to when my parents were murdered by a ruthless man and his sidekick who worked for the Mafia.”
Stunned disbelief rippled through Remy as he stared at Tempest and the serious look on her face, along with the pained glimmer in her eyes. He’d had no idea that her parents were dead, or rather, murdered. It wasn’t something that had ever come up in conversation with Maddux, and why would it? Remy had always just assumed her parents lived somewhere else, retired and living the good life in a warm climate.
“Jesus, Tempest. I’m so sorry.” The words felt inadequate for what she and her brothers had lost.
“I know all you see is the massive security tech empire Maddux has built and all the wealth that goes with it, but we didn’t grow up that way. Not even close,” she said softly. “My parents owned a small restaurant and ran it themselves, but money was always tight and we lived modestly. It didn’t help that a man by the name of Theodore Cole and his goon, Gavin, kept extorting payments from them. My mom and dad were scared enough of what might happen to them or us if they didn’t comply that they managed to scrape together the payments he demanded . . . until they had no extra money left to give without losing our house and their restaurant, which was their livelihood.”
Another wave of shock poured through him, but he remained quiet as she took another drink of her beer, then dropped her hands to her lap, rubbing her palms along her thighs anxiously—and the confident Tempest he knew was not an anxious, fidgety woman, so he knew whatever was coming next was difficult for her to tell.
She exhaled a deep breath and met his gaze from across the table. “At that point, Theodore threatened my parents and told them that if they didn’t come up with the money, they weren’t going to like the consequences, but they just didn’t have the cash. Shortly after that, a grease fire was deliberately set in the restaurant kitchen. My mother was in the office doing paperwork and got trapped by the spreading fire and died. My father, who tried to rescue her, ended up having a cardiac arrest and dying that same day. Maddux was there the night it happened but couldn’t do a damn thing to save either one of them.”
Her pain was palpable, and seeing her so vulnerable softened something in the vicinity of Remy’s heart that had been stone-cold since his nasty divorce. “How old were you when it happened?”
“Twelve,” she said softly, absently rubbing away the condensation on her glass of beer with her fingers.
Without thinking, only knowing he wanted to offer her some kind of comfort, he reached across the table, slipped his hand into hers, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “That had to have been really tough to deal with.”
