“I don’t care whose it is or who likes what,” Thumper said. “Nobody’s business what goes on in somebody else’s private time. Anyway, you’re not gay unless you’re fuckin’ dudes. Izzy’s no dude.”
Saxon grinned. “Is it yours, Thump? Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
“It’s Izzy’s,” Badger said, clearly annoyed. “It was her idea. And this particular private time is our business. This is the leverage.” He tapped the top of the tablet, which Dom must have paused during Kellen’s outburst. The still image showed Autumn’s boss being thoroughly serviced by Izzy and her impressively sized strap-on.
Cox hated that motherfucker, the guy had imprints of Cox’s ring all over his face he hated him so much, but the idea of this kind of leverage didn’t sit right. Obviously something like this had been the plan from the start, that was why they’d enlisted Izzy’s help, but it still seemed ... well, cheap.
However, it was done, and surely the slick fucker would be horrified for footage like that to make the rounds of his boardrooms, country clubs, penthouses, wherever the rich and famous played. If they needed leverage, they had it.
Something new occurred to Cox: Autumn could use that footage. She could get that grabby son of a bitch to sit on his hands and seal his mouth shut. She could maybe even get more at MWGP—more control, more money, more power, more of whatever she wanted.
“He’s gonna be a problem,” Dom said.
It took Cox a beat to understand Dom meant Kellen, not Autumn’s boss.
“I’ll talk to him,” Badger said.
“I hate that fucker,” Double A repeated. “Can’t believe he’s got a seat at this table.”
“He’s had it years, Dub,” Badger replied with a tone that suggested they’d had this conversation before and he was tired of it. “He can be an ass, but we gave him a patch, and being hard to get along with isn’t grounds for excommunication. Most of us are assholes at least half the time. Kell’s just a full-timer.”
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~oOo~
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Certain Autumn would still be asleep, Cox opened the door to his room slowly, lifting it over the squeaky spot in a hinge. As he eased in, he noted that the light was still low; only the thin light of the trailing edge of dawn peeking through the window blinds.
But Autumn was not asleep. She was awake, and she was mostly dressed.
As he came into the room, she whipped around to face him, and Cox was shocked to see that she’d been crying.
She wasn’t now, now she seemed angry, but her eyes had the unmistakably misty, ruddy cast of recent tears.
“Y’okay?” he asked, wondering what could have happened in the hour he’d been gone. Fuck, had her boss found her? “What happened?”
He took a step toward her, reaching out—but she took a step back.
It was him? What the fuck had he done?
Oh shit. Had he misread last night? Had he done something to hurt or upset her? Obviously he had.
A replay of the night sped through his mind; he scanned it, trying to think where he’d done something shitty without realizing. But all he remembered was wildly intense sex, both of them giving their all the whole time. She’d been into it. Or faking it with the skill of a porn star.
“What happened?” he asked again, because she hadn’t yet answered.
She squared her shoulders and drew herself up as tall as her little spine could go. A tell that she felt the need to muster her strength. She drew one hand through her hair, pulling it all to one side, flipping over the top of her head. A tell that she’d made up her mind about something.
“I’m fine. Just getting dressed. Nothing happened, the night’s just over.”
That was a lie. Though it was also demonstrably true, something in there was false.
“You don’t want to talk?”
She laughed, and the sound was sharp and bitter. “You do?”
He did, actually. He’d expected to slip back into bed with her, lie with her until she woke, maybe suggest breakfast at Marie’s, feel out her appetite for playing some more while she was here. He’d also planned to work how and when—and if—to tell her about what they had on her boss. Probably he should run that by Badger first, but at the moment he wasn’t inclined to take that precaution.