Page 45 of Diamonds & Deception

“This thing between you and Lenora serious?” he asks, ignoring my question.

Knowing we’ll never get to the meeting if I don’t lay it all on the table, I give them what they want. “It has potential.”

“Are you on last name status now that you’ve told her who you are and let her have free rein in your penthouse?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes at Nolan. “Jane. Lenora Jane. She’s a food blogger,” I say to Ryder. “And, no, she’s not writing aboutRed.”

Instead of a smart comeback, Ryder tosses the last chunk of his donut back into the box and leans forward on his elbows. “You’re fuckingtheLenora Jane?”

“I didn’t know she was athe.Is she a celebrity in your food world or something? She doesn’t come across that way.”

“Holy fuck.” Ryder stands and links his fingers together behind his neck and paces my office.

I’ve never seen him this fired up before. He’s been reviewed in all sorts of magazines and websites from the area and even from afar, yet Nora has him freaking out.

“You sure the feelings are mutual, man? She’s not the one-man kind of chick.”

“Excuse me?” I growl, not appreciating the insinuation. Nora is not the kind of woman Ryder would date. He likes them fast and furious, with no strings, no sleepovers.

“Hell, man. She’s got a rep.”

“What do you mean?” I don’t like the direction of this conversation. Trey stays quiet and unmoving, which is normal for him.

Nolan sits back and studies Ryder as if he’s unsure where this is going as well. Ryder scratches his fingers across his face and plops back into his seat.

“You been holding back on us? I didn’t think you were the type.”

“Type for what?”

“Kinky shit. BDSM. Threesomes. Lenora’s a freaking sex fiend.”

“Where the fuck did you hear that?”

“Easy.” He holds up his hands in a truce. “Don’t shoot the messenger. She’s kind of a legend in the food world.”

“Talk. Now.” I clench my molars and seethe at him.

Ryder rubs the back of his neck and glances at Nolan and Trey as if looking for support. They’re like two stunned deer stuck in the headlights.

“Maybe now’s not a good time.”

“Tell me what the fuck you think you know about her, Ryder.”

“It’s probably gossip. Fuckhead chefs who are full of shit because she won’t give them a review.” He takes a sip of his coffee, no doubt stalling. “Listen, don’t take this as fact, okay? Rumors, ‘cause I’m sure they are, are that she doesn’t want to mix business with pleasure. It’s why she won’t review anything local. She’s ah... likes sex. She’s into the sex club scene where you have to sign an NDA. Threesomes, foursomes, whips, chains. She has no limits.”

“No. Not Nora.” I push back and pace my office, wishing I kept a bottle of Jameson in my desk drawer.

“Jane’s not even her last name. There are no photos of her, which is kind of the norm with food bloggers. So, it’s probably not even the same chick. Probably some coincidence.”

“Nolan,” I snap. “Get me a picture. Do a background check.”

“On it.” He takes out his laptop and starts typing away. There’s a reason he’s head of security. During his SEAL training, he learned to hack into computer systems and can track a freaking blade of grass growing in an open field.

The room is quiet except for Nolan’s pecking at his laptop. I go over to the windows and stare out at the city. I’m living a life I couldn’t even dream of a decade ago. I thought I had the perfect woman as well.

Maybe she still is. Maybe Ryder’s gossip group of chefs is making up shit because their egos get trashed.

“Lenora Jane Sumner. Graduate of Boston College. Thirty-one years old, originally from Westport, Connecticut.”

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