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“I can,” I say, pulling her to me, “but I won’t.”
“Promise.”
“I promise, unless he makes it impossible to resist.”
“Nick.”
“Sweetheart, I’m not violent, but I am brutal. Come get naked with me and I’ll show you.”
“How did you just make that sound sexy?”
“Must be love, sweetheart,” I say, “and now, I’m going to do things to you that you won’t forget for the rest of the day. Andthatis a promise.” I scoop her up and start walking toward my bedroom and my bed, where she belongs. And I’m going to make sure she knows it.
…
I arrive at work with a box of donuts, which I set on Rita’s desk, earning me a smile. “You remembered.”
“I did,” I say. “Because you, Rita, are like Glinda the Good Witch, who’s a really good bitch to everyone but me, whenyou are well-fed. I like you well-fed.” I head to my office. “Whatever I’m doing today, when that property assessment arrives, get it to me.” My mind turns to my personal banker. “What time will Charles be here?”
“Four o’clock,” she says. “And North is on standby for the emergency filing the minute you say go. It’s prepped and on your desk. He, on the other hand, is sleeping in his office. He’s sick. The kind of sick that makes being sick look good.”
“Fuck. Send him home.”
“I tried. He refused.”
I walk back to her desk, pick up her phone, and dial his office. “North?”
“Yes?” He starts coughing.
“Get the fuck out of my office before you make me sick.” I hang up, and Rita opens the donut box, pointing to a certain donut. “Your favorite.”
I turn away and walk into my office. About the time I reach my desk, my cellphone buzzes with a text, and I have to sit down when I see it. “Holy Mother of Jesus,” I murmur at the sight of Faith’s uncle, naked, tied up, and with a woman—I think she’s a woman—but whatever the case, he or she is spanking him. Rita’s voice lifts from the lobby, and suddenly Beck is walking into my office without knocking. My intercom buzzes. “I told him to wait,” Rita says. “He’s impossible.”
“Yes, he is,” I say. “But it’s fine. I’ll deal with him.”
Beck’s lips twist sardonically with my comment, and he shuts the door, his dark hair extra spiky today. His T-shirt—an image of a middle finger with “fuck you” printed above it—is somehow appropriate, considering that photo he just sent me. He crosses my office and sits down on the arm of a visitor’s chair—always a rebel, even in the smallest of ways. “You got my good morning calling card, I assume?”
“I did.” I lean back in my chair. “Did he?”
“Not yet,” he says, “and here are my thoughts. We both know that you already decided you’re making your deal with your bank and hers. If her bank simply thought they could cash in on the winery, it’s over. If there’s more to it, it’s not, and we have two sources of potential trouble: someone at the bank and the naked, perversely kinky uncle.” He holds up his hands. “Married uncle. We both know you’ll use your extremely large bank account to influence her bank.Iwill handle the naked married uncle.”
“I didn’t hire you to fly blind and tape on Band-Aids, Beck.”
“We both like trouble,” he says. “Maybe there isn’t trouble to be found. Until we get the autopsy report, we don’t know, and unless you want to wait on that report, this is where we’re at.”
“Are the cameras in place at her house and the winery?” I ask, concerned about Faith’s safety.
“Yes, and we’re watching her so closely that I can practically tell you what color Faith’s panties are.” He holds up his hands again. “Don’t worry. I’ll ask if I’m curious. I’m curious. What color—”
“Get the fuck out.”
He laughs and heads for the door. The minute he’s out of my office, Rita is inside. “Seems a good bribe works wonders. We have the winery’s new evaluation.”
“How much?” I ask.
“Forty million,” she says. “Five million more than Faith’s note with the bank.”
“Fuck me in a good way. Get Charles—”
