Page 108 of Worth Every Penny

NICO

Several hours later, and I’m still feeling like shit. I rock back in my chair, hands behind my head. I’ve been salvaging deals left and right. Nothing has been going well, and I’m sure it’s because the news about the Knightsbridge spa project knocked me off kilter. And then that bloody call with Martin Brooks planted a seed of anxiety that’s plagued me all day.

I’m watertight. I know that. Martin has nothing on me or Jack. Or even Gerard Lansen, God rest his soul.

But what if Martin tells Kate what happened? He could reveal her father’s crimes. But that’s not my most pressing concern. I’m worried what Kate will do when she finds out I’ve been lying to her. That Jack and I have hidden it from her all this time…

My mind skirts back to that first meeting in the spa of the Hawkston Elite, when Kate wouldn’t stay to have lunch with me. How furious she’d been that we hadn’t told her about the sale.

You and Jack kept secrets from me. You treated me like a kid who can’t handle the big business.

Isn’t that exactly what we’ve been doing?

And of course, it’s not just her finding out. It’s what might happen if the story gets out. I paid everyone off, so the press didn’t get hold of it and drag the Lansen name through the mud.

Martin got his money; enough to retire into a life of luxury. But he lost his company. That was the deal. I repaid everything Gerard had taken from him, allowing Jack to buy Martin out for more than market value. It was a deal Martin couldn’t say no to.

So what the hell is he playing at?

I didn’t want to play dirty back then… at least not truly dirty. Money was as much of a weapon as I needed to sort things out, but if Martin really is a threat, I’ll have to take more drastic action. Clearly, cash isn’t enough of a motivator for him anymore.

I pour myself a scotch and sit at my desk, savouring the taste, feeling the burn as it slides down my throat. It’s nearly sunset, and knowing I’ll see Kate soon has my pulse hammering in my neck.

Fucking her takes my mind off everything else. When she’s with me, I’m present. I’m not worrying. When I’m fucking Kate, I’m not analyzing whatever else we’re doing. Or whatever else is going on in my life. It’s like the world is a storm and she’s the lighthouse.

I finish the last of my scotch, enjoying the way the alcohol seeps into my bloodstream, slowing the pace of my mind, my body.

It stabilizes me, calms me, but not enough.

KATE

It’s just past 9 pm when I knock on Nico’s office door.

“Yes,” he calls.

God, his voice. That one word—yes—has arousal spiking through me. My heart is racing. I’m so turned on that I’m not sure how I’m still standing upright.

I smooth down my skirt, pop an extra button on my shirt, and open the door.

Nico is sitting behind the desk, reclining in his chair, an empty glass—probably scotch—in one hand. There’s an edge to him tonight; I feel it immediately. He doesn’t look at me, but drains the last tiny drop from his glass and puts it on the desk. Only then does he acknowledge me.

His gaze is so predatory, so heated, that warmth rises within me, braising my skin from the inside.

I’m speechless, and Nico doesn’t seem ready to volunteer anything either. Behind him, the sunset blazes across London. The sky lit up like a bonfire. It’s spectacular, filling the room with a warm glow. I assume this is why he wanted me to come up here now, but to be honest I couldn’t give a crap about the ball of fire in the sky, when Nico is right there, so much closer and far, far hotter.

“It’s stunning,” I say, more to fill the silence than anything else, although it’s not untrue.

A small smile lifts his lips, quietly satisfied, as if the sunset is his gift to me and he’s pleased it pleases me. My heart warms at the thought.

He holds eye contact, but his smile fades and he makes no move to get up from his desk or to greet me properly. Nerves writhe in my belly as I wait for him to tell me what we’re doing here.

He raises the empty glass one more time, tips it up and holds it to his lips, waiting for that last singular drop to roll onto his tongue. Then he licks his lips, such a sensual, slow licking that fire rolls up my body from my toes to the crown of my head.

He puts the glass down, taking his time to get to his feet. I’m about to step towards him when he speaks. “Don’t move.”

I glance around the room, unsure.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

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