Page 48 of The Devil's Daughter

“You can check my code. Here, I’ll share the file so you can start at the top. Make any adjustments you think are relevant.”

I open the file, but before I dive in, something occurs to me.

“We should ask my father for help. He’s the one who helped Drake destroy his dad. He must know something.”

Baz’s fingers stop tapping at his keyboard and several expressions cross his face before he shakes his head. “Fuck that. I’m not letting thatdesgraciadointo my business ever again, and I know Ben will agree. Also, I’m pretty sure none of us want him finding out about this.” He makes a wide circle with his hand, indicating our whole situation, but I don’t buy it.

Narrowing my eyes, I stand and grab my phone. “Fine. You don’t have to talk to him. I’ll do it.”

He stares at me as I start walking away, and finally rises when he realizes I’m not bluffing. I hiss when the plug in my ass rubs in just therightway. I don’t need to be turned on during this conversation. Scowling at my phone, I realize it’s the burner they gave me and my contacts aren’t on it. I start to dial Maddox, since his is one of the few numbers I know by heart.

“Elle, no!” Baz yells behind me, but I speed up my pace, the friction in my ass eroding my focus, and step into the elevator, the doors closing before he can reach me. He slams his palm on the door.

“Fucking hell, Elle. Don’t call Flores!”

Maddox picks up on the second ring. “Hello?”

I try to get my panting under control before I answer. “Hey, Maddy, it’s Elle.”

“Heya, Bean. How’re things? You hanging in there in that swanky penthouse Papá sent you to?”

“Ah, about that—I’m not there anymore. Something happened, and Drake moved us to his yacht because it’s more secure. It’s a long story, but I need your help. I need to talk to my father.”

I exit the elevator and rush out, aiming for my bedroom. Somewhere in the stern of the ship I hear footsteps banging down a stairwell and a steel door slamming open. I speed up, waiting for my brother to answer, but he’s silent for so long I think the call might’ve dropped.

“Elle! Hang up the goddamn phone!” Baz yells down the long hallway. He starts to run toward me and I sprint to my room, surprised that the plug merely increases my arousal and doesn’t seem to be at risk of sliding out. Once I’m inside, I slam the door and lock it.

“Um, byfatheryou’re referring to…”

“Papá Flores. Yes. Who else? Julian Santos is not, and never was, my dad.”

I walk to the bathroom and contemplate removing the plug, but I’m enjoying it a bit too much, so I opt to keep it in as long as I can today.

“Fair enough. Wish I could disown the motherfucker too. Why do you need to talk to Flores? Does this have anything to do with why you’re calling from a different number?”

“It’s kind of a long story, and I don’t want you to worry …”

“Bean,” Maddox admonishes, “now Iamgoing to worry, especially if you don’t tell me. Does it have anything to do with this gala Stavros invited us to tomorrow night? I’m guessing since he invited our entire family, that means he’s letting you come too. I’m trying not to read anything into the gesture, but I’malsotrying not to be a nosy big brother. I didn’t tell Mason about my suspicion, but he’s probably drawn his own conclusions.”

“Oh god, seriously? Why would either of you be suspicious?”

“The man was clearly checking you out last week when we were at his place. It didn’t cross the line, otherwise I’d have confronted him. But you’ve caught his eye. So yeah, this gesture feels a bit too timely, especially since you’ve been living under his roof for a little while now.”

“I’ve also been living with Baz and Ben, who Sam likes to get into fights with over me, in case you’ve forgotten. Why aren’t you worried about them?”

“Fuck, should I be? Who else is on that yacht with the four of you?”

“Lots of people. Staff…”

Drake said there are a dozen other people living on his yacht, but I’ve barely seen signs of most of them over the past two days. The captain’s quarters are on the bridge deck, so he keeps to himself, but Drake disappeared for a little while last night to go check in with the older man. And I’ve seen the chef when he serves us dinner. I’ve chatted briefly with one of the maids, an amiable middle-aged Greek woman—and the chef’s wife—who seems more than happy to be here.

Drake is evidently an amazing man to work for, which I agree with, aside from his penchant for spying on my work. But now that I know him better, I think I can forgive that impulse.

My brother grunts as if he doesn’t quite believe me, and I worry for a second that he’s going to demand I leave and come live at the Flores estate instead. Or press me for more details about the guys, which I won’t be able to hide because I refuse to lie to my brothers.

He surprises me when he sighs and says, “I trust the twins to keep you safe, and I trustyouto let me know if you ever need out. Now fill me in on what you need from Flores, and I’ll relay the message. Is this the number where he can reach you?”

“Yeah, and I’d honestly rather not tell you all the details. Just tell him we need to talk to him about the favor he did for Drake, to find out if he knows who might be trying to get back at Drake for what happened. Someone with the connections to plant wireless cameras all over Drake’s penthouse.”

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