Page 6 of Dirty Arrangement

“Those hookups never went all the way.” Now why the hell did I have to point that out? It’s none of this bastard’s business. I clear my throat, putting on a straight face. “But the question is–how the fuck do you know what happened at my hotel?”

“Maybe I was a guest there.” He twirls the glass in his hand as he speaks. The corner of my mouth lifts, satisfied that I recognize at least one of his strategies. He hasn’t taken a single sip of his drink since we sat down, while I’ve taken three if only to justify the color in my cheeks.

Besides, by the look of him, the guy really isn’t a drinker. He’s too athletic for that, yet he doesn’t look like the steroid-fed gym junkie either. The power of his body, his exquisite build, they come from excelling at a sport. Something that enlarges the shoulders and trims the waist, that muscles the thighs and makes the ass look like it’s made of concrete. It takes effort not to ask what the hell he did to look like this.

“No, you weren’t. I would know since the hotel is mine.” And I would sure as fuck have remembered him.

His grin widens. “I have eyes and ears in all the places that matter. It’s as if I were there in person.”

My lips thin. That must be how he knew about the bar hookups–through his spies. And I only realize that now, taken as I’ve been with his looks. After all, security lets everyone into the hotel bar if they aren’t carrying a weapon or wires–we scan them at the entrance. He must also know that none of those pick-ups ever ended with a fuck. That I always landed drunk and alone in my bed, having cried my eyes out on the shoulder of some stranger frustrated that he didn’t get laid that night. Fuck, I don’t know what’s more pathetic, him knowing the truth, or him believing I’m a slut with a drinking problem.

I tilt my head to the side, mirroring him.

“Since you know it all, why am I here?”

He drags his eyes away from me for the first time, directing them to the window. The way those blue irises catch the light is out of this fucking world.

“Let’s see, there are three possible reasons at the top of my list. First, you were curious to put a face to my name, but that’s wishful thinking on my part, yes?” He gives me a beat to respond, but the moment I open my mouth, he cuts me off. “Second, you’d like me to help you find out what happened to your husband. But that doesn’t hold either, does it? In the end, you don’t give a damn about him. You never did.” Is it just me, or was there just a little bit of venom in that last statement? “Third–and most pertinent, if you ask me–is that you’re swamped with death threats. With Joseph missing, all kinds of nasty people are trying to take over his empire. With you being a woman, the competition thinks you’re easy to take down. So you decided you needed help. And who better to partner with, if not with the man your husband feared most–and who he was in direct competition with.”

He turns his face to me, while I try to keep a poker mask on.

“You know, I used to wonder what you and Joseph had in common,” I say calmly. “I mean, he runs a large drug network and you control much of the pharma industry, but that’s where the similarities end–or are supposed to, with him being in essence just a thug, and you a refined genius.” I pause for a beat. “But then, while I was busy digging up dirt on my still-husband, I came across some interesting things.” I rest the glass of scotch on my knee, my eyes pinning him down like daggers as I speak out the next words. “You seek to replace the common drugs on the streets with your own highly engineered ones. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

He holds my stare as silence falls over his large office. I become increasingly aware of Priest still hanging out by the desk, of his attention fixed on us. I wonder what his job is with Zayne, because I doubt he’s either his spiritual father or his bodyguard. There’s something menacing about the pretty boy that puts him on an equal footing with Zayne.

“Are you trying to intimidate me with the knowledge you have about my dealings, Mrs. Carter?” Zayne eventually says. His voice is still a silky caress, but one that could morph into a whip at any second. His eyes slide down my frame. “And here I was, thinking you would use some of your feminine charms in order to coax me into becoming your ally.”

“Now that you mention it, I might as well.” My voice lowers a few tones, becoming more husky and inviting. All my senses scream that I’m doing something terribly stupid right now, but I can’t help it.

I undo the buttons of my coat, flipping the sides open to reveal the skimpy black satin dress. It might be just in my head, a trick that my racing pulse is playing on me, but I think his throat tensed a little.

“Shall I take this as an offer, Mrs. Carter?”

“First of all, I’d appreciate it if you stopped calling me that. Considering all the information you already have on me, I would expect that you already know I planned on leaving Joseph before his disappearance.”

He tsks, twirling the glass in his hand a little faster, even though the rest of him remains calm.

“Indeed. One could argue that you had good reasons to disappear him yourself. After all, you’re a resourceful woman. You just talked yourself past security that even the greatest con artists would have trouble breaching. Getting rid of an unwanted husband shouldn’t be hard for someone of your skill and competence.”

The compliment sends heat to my cheeks, but I manage to mask my reaction.

“I suppose one could make that argument. But not you. You know better. After all, you kept track even of my failed hookup attempts. You’re a know-it-all god of sorts.”

The twinkle in his eye sends my heart jolting into my throat.

“Fair enough. So, for the sake of clarity, I’m going to ask you again.” He uncrosses his legs and leans forward. When his eyes move down my body again, they’re no longer just mildly curious or intrigued. It seems like he’s x-raying me, shamelessly exploring what I might look like naked. “Is this an offer?”

My entire body heats up, control slipping out of my hands. Now how the fuck do I reply to that?

***

Zayne

FOR THE FIRST TIME since she stepped into my office, Sirenna Carter seems lost for words. She opens her red-painted mouth to reply, then closes it again, looking around as if for an escape.

But it’s too late for that.

I’ve got her right where I wanted her.

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