Page 37 of Searching for Hope

It creaks and Barrett’s head appears. He enters hesitantly until I wave, beckoning him forward.

“Here.” He holds out a file. “This is everything that surveillance turned up.”

“You used Montgomery?”

Barrett nods. “He added five grand to the bill for—” Barrett raises his fingers “—quote, unquote unexpected expenses.”

“Bastard.”

“I tried to negotiate with him but there’s a fucking high demand for his services at the moment so…” Barrett offers a grim smile.

“Anything good?”

He offers his summary of the file. “Fuck all. Never worked a day in his life. Never really studied either. Floated through life on Daddy’s coattails. But the kid stands to make a shit-ton of money once Daddy dies. Until then, there’s nothing he can do but exactly what he’s told. It’s the father that holds the power. He’s the one who runs everything. For the time being, anyway.”

I push my chair back from the desk and stand. “I want more. I want to know who he knows. Who he does business with, who he invites for dinner, who he goes on holiday with and who cleans his fucking pool. I want to know every possible contact of this fuckwit, okay?”

He nods. “Yes, Mr Priest.”

“That’s all I need for now.”

He salutes.

“Stop fucking saluting, Barrett.”

“Yes, sir. Mr Priest, I mean.”

I follow him out the door to head down for dinner. It will be strange sitting next to Berkley and not being able to kiss her, touch her. But I’m not ready for the rest of my family to know. I’m not ready to face the questions, the accusations. Gideon has barely spoken to me since he walked in on us. He’s not one to easily forgive or forget. He holds onto hatred, feeding off it. I don’t mind if he hates me. It’s nothing new. But seeing the way Berkley cowers under his contempt makes me furious. She never asked for any of this. I sought her out and dragged her into this fucked-up mess. It isn’t her fault. Of course, he also doesn’t know I have her father locked in a cell. He still thinks he’s free, escaped from the shackles of his court-mandated punishment.

I’m at the bottom of the stairs when I see her. She’s changed now, back in her usual leggings and loose sweater than hangs off one shoulder. It always drove me insane, the tease of her flesh, and tonight, even more so because I know I could touch her and she wouldn’t stop me. I could run my tongue over her flesh and she’d offer me more.

“Berkley,” I call out, catching her hand just as she’s about to open the door into the dining room.

She turns, her eyes lighting when she sees me.

My stupid heart skips a beat.

There’s a noise behind us and I drop her hand, instead jerking my head to the alcove behind the stairs. She ducks around into the shadows and I follow her. As soon as I approach, her hands wrap around my neck, and she presses her lips to mine. Every cell in my body surges toward her, the feeling of her mouth eliciting sharp pangs of longing.

“Hi,” she says dreamily, her hands still around my neck.

“What did Michael say?”

She pouts. Literally pokes her bottom lip out and looks at me with those huge fucking eyes of hers. A groan escapes before I can catch it.

“Berkley,” I warn.

“What?” She blinks a few times and then laughs. “He was inviting me to a party this weekend.”

“A party?”

“A pool party.”

Jealous rage raises its head. The last place I want Berkley is at a fucking pool party with fucking Michael Gorman. “No,” I say.

A slow smile passes over her. “It would be good for him to trust me again. I think I should go.”

All I can think about is when I saw her in the pool. Even though she wore a reasonably modest bathing suit, it still showed off every swell and curve of her body. And that was just the one she wore while doing lengths. I couldn’t imagine what she might choose to wear to go to a pool party. Michael would get to see her in a way I didn’t want him to.

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