Page 13 of The Lies of Bryn van Doren

“This is the address,” Stefano confirms.

“This just got kinky.”

“Come on,” he chuckles. “It’s freezing, and I don’t want to be late.”

With a nod, Jessica allows Stefano to escort her into Clandestine’s Closet. As soon as they pass through the front entrance, her eyes are everywhere, taking in the elaborate space. In spite of the warmth that fills the establishment, as Jessica lets go of Stefano’s arm, she hugs her coat around herself, feeling slightly embarrassed by some of the apparel out on display. While she’s certainly no prude, she’s never found herself in the market for underthings quite as decadent as the items laid out before her. It’s not so much her sexual experience so much as it is her socioeconomic status that makes her feel out of place.

“You okay?” asks Stefano, pulling Jessica from her thoughts.

She looks up at him and offers him another nod.

He dips his chin in response before assuring her, “I’ll be back. I’m going to find Beatrice.”

“Good luck.”

As soon as he walks away, “River” by Bishop Briggs starts to play over the sound system. Jessica looks up at the ceiling, smiling to herself as the beat begins to wash over her. She’s never been one to believe in signs, but she can’t deny a good song. As it continues to play, she allows her eyes to dance around the store once more. Willing herself to relax, she decides to embark on a little exploration of her own.

One song transitions into another as she wanders around the shop. She allows her fingers to glide over the material of the garments she likes, all the while knowing she could never afford to buy any of the items. Even if she could, she’d never attracted the kind of man who would appreciate her delicate tastes. She’s known more fumbled, back room, half-clothed sexual encounters than she’d like to admit. Even so, as she whiles away an hour, she lets herself imagine a time and place where such underthings would befit an evening or two.

She’s making her way down from the second level of the boutique when she spots Stefano as he steps out onto the main floor. She can tell right away he’s looking for her, so she calls out his name in a mock whisper, catching his attention before offering him a wave. The grin that splices his face tells her all she needs to know, and she hurries down the stairs to meet up with him. The instant she’s in reaching distance, Stefano takes her by the hand and begins to drag her out of the store.

“Wait—Huey, slow down,” she laughs, clinging to his arm with her free hand in an attempt to keep her balance. “What happened?”

“Jess,” he mutters, speaking through the biggest smile she’s ever seen on his face. Without slowing his pace, he exclaims, “Fuck Beyoncé. I work for the real Queen Bea.”

Khalohn wipes hisfingers on the napkin in his grasp as he continues to chew the last bite of his meal. After discarding it with the plastic container in which his lunch was delivered, he continues to read over the documents his lawyers sent over earlier that morning. When his cell phone rings a moment later, it takes him a second to shift his attention onto the device before he proceeds to answer.

“Hello?” he mutters in greeting, his mind still torn between the task in front of him and the caller in his ear.

“Boss man, I’ve got news.”

Khalohn can hear Manhattan’s late afternoon traffic playing in the background on the other end of the line, and he’s certain Porter is on the move. He also surmises, given his straight-forward announcement, he’s in between appointments. The only time Khalohn can expect Porter to be direct is when he’s fully immersed in business mode. He’ll never deny how much he appreciates when his broker, not his friend, desires his time. After all, it is their business relationship that made way for their friendship in the first place.

“I’m listening,” Khalohn replies.

“Pier House Resorts—heard of them?”

His attention now completely captivated, Khalohn leans back in his chair, a slight scowl tugging at his brow. His eyes focus out the window across from his desk, but he doesn’t see the view as he mulls over the name Porter just spoke. Khalohn spent many years with his sights set on a number of resorts all over the world. When he began to branch out in an attempt to grow his enterprise and expand his footprint, he found he had little time to keep abreast of vacation homes as much as he used to.

“Sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t say I know anything specific.”

“Chain of hotels along the Gulf. Coincidentally,golfis one of their selling points—that and their spa packages. Don’t have a bunch of details in regard to what’s going on behind the scenes, but saw they took a hefty dip in the stock market this morning. Thought you might like to look into it.”

Khalohn sighs, flicking his wrist as he checks the time. His afternoon is stacked, and he plans on being in meetings until early evening—the first of which is to begin in less than an hour.

Hearing the reluctance in just one breath, Porter chuckles in Khalohn’s ear. “There’s nothing wrong with making a quick buck, especially not with a family-owned business that’s likely in the midst of a scramble, trying to save their asses. You know I wouldn’t bring it to your attention if I didn’t think it worth your while. You’ve got a lot of big deals in the works—deals that takeages—look into this one.”

“Yeah. Thanks for the tip.”

“I am good for something,” he retorts, his smile evident in his tone. “Catch you later.”

Khalohn doesn’t even have to think of a response, Porter quickly disconnecting the call. Before his cell phone hits his desk, he’s got his office phone in his hand.

“Morgan?” Maribelle answers a second later.

“Please get Lorelai in my office. Preferably within the next five minutes.”

“I’ll see what I can do, dear.”

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