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Ty pokes at the hot ashes again. “They own half the government and happily trade information with the FBI when it serves them.”
I nod. “Those five seats are the most powerful people in the country, among the most influential in the world.”
She swallows what appears to be a cocktail of fear and awe. “More powerful than the president and our government leaders?”
“They choose the leaders of our country and place them in power, all who remain under their thumb,” I reply, clarifying just how far and wide their supreme influence stretches. “They have the capacity to unleash a smear campaign so damaging that impeachment would be the least of the politician’s worries. They can also erase the ugliest of scandals. And political parties are irrelevant. It’s all who can serve KORT’s needs. They have people everywhere.”
“Puppeteers,” she rasps, barely above a whisper, as though the fire has entranced her.
“Yes,” I say, wondering how this is settling inside her. It’s what she was born for, but not officially bred to become. A nature versus nurture moment.
Her eyes snap to mine. “A cabal. And you work for them? Or with them? Is that who you erase people for?”
I choose to answer the simplest of those three queries. “Our erasing business is independent. We receive jobs from the government, from KORT, from individuals. Very few know who we are. They’re hiring a nameless service.”
She heaves a breath. “People think you’re financial advisers.”
“Those who choose to inquire, yes.”
Very rarely do we need a cover. We don’t associate with those who question what we do, unless we’re infiltrating a group for answers.
“This has something to do with me.” She wiggles in her seat, skimming her fingertips over the hem of her hoodie. “Somehow.”
Liam and Ty both shoot me a sidelong glance while Gage sighs.
I stall for a beat, impressed yet not prepared to go down this road tonight. “What makes you say that, Ives?”
Her eyes float over each of us with a subtle shake of her head. “I was never very good in school. It was taxing to stay focused. Even social settings were challenging. No one befriends the girl who spaces out during an important story. So, my dad worked with me. It’s difficult to explain, but I can understand more from body language than from the words falling from a person’s lips. Sometimes, my brain disconnects from those, tucks them away. But the way a person holds themselves, their stature, the squint of their eyes, the cadence of their voice and breaths. The way you all bounced off one another. This information was important. You wanted me to connect with what you were telling me.”
Jesus Christ.She’s fucking brilliant.
The guys say nothing, waiting for my response. All eyes on me. As well as I know this woman, she still surprises me.
I dust my thumb over my lip, deciding. “It does. You are incredibly perceptive. And intuitive. That was an early installment. The rest will come as we discussed.”
She tightens her jaw, but lounges back into her chair. “That’s fine. It allots me time to compose better questions.”
Again, surprising.
We move into lighter conversation until I see her loosening up. Her eyes fill with heat when she finds me watching her. She nibbles her lower lip, and that is all the invitation needed. I signal subtly to Ty, who eyes Liam and Gage. They all say their good nights to Ivy—a delicate palming of her head, a shoulder squeeze, a kiss in her hair. I’ve trained myself to accept it. She feels at home and cherished here, and although I want to be the only one who offers her that, she needs them like I do. We really are a family now. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep that intact. Things she probably can’t fathom.
Without waiting for them to disappear all the way to the house, I voice my command. “Come here.”
As always, her eyes tell me she’s toying with the idea of defying me, but my girl wants to be dominated. Craves it. So, without protest, she rises and stands before me. I tap my thigh, ordering her to sit. She falls into my lap, her back to my chest. Both my arms wrap around her waist, bunching her oversize sweatshirt.
I undo the button and zipper on her jeans, sliding my hand inside her panties, but before I can praise her readiness for me, she mutters, “What if they come back?”
“They won’t.” My answer is absolute as I spread her arousal over her clit.
She murmurs a faint purr. “Does everyone always do what you tell them to?”
“Yes.” I chuckle. “Except you sometimes.”
“True,” she says, and I hear the bratty, victorious grin. “Why? Why do people listen?”
“I can be persuasive, and most would prefer not to force my …persuasion.”
That sugarcoated honesty has her breath hitching because my naughty wife is probably envisioning all the ways I’ve encouraged her to obey and all the ways we’ve yet to explore. My lips brush across her ear, followed by a gentle nibble.
