Page 66 of The Lies of Bryn van Doren

Lorelai turns to glance at Porter, but Khalohn is quick to demand, “Ignore him. What is it?”

“Had a message in my inbox this morning. Charlie Winslow and his lawyer are willing to move forward with negotiations, but we have to move fast. Pier House is on life support, but there’s enough red tape preventing his sister from getting her hands on it.”

“Okay,” he replies, lifting his eyebrows expectantly. He doesn’t ask why this has brought her to his door. He doesn’t need to, and they both know it.

Lorelai blows out a sigh and then admits, “I need to pull you in. I think the safest way to play this is casual. Another dinner. In the next couple days, if you can manage it.”

Khalohn leans back in his chair, mourning the dropping temperature of his coffee as he deals with the first interruptions of his day. He jerks his chin in acknowledgement and then instructs, “Speak with Maribelle. She’ll set the time and place.”

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan,” she says, sounding relieved.

“Lorelai,” Khalohn stops her before she’s out of sight. “Be prepared to ride along with me to that dinner. I’ll want up to speed along the way.”

“Certainly.”

When she’s gone, Khalohn shifts his attention across the room to Porter. He grins, pointing after Lorelai as he inquires, “Is it her?”

Khalohn fights the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m busy,” he replies. “Just like I was yesterday morning. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a meeting to prepare for. Don’t you have something to do this morning?”

“Money never sleeps, my friend,” he replies with a shrug. He starts to take his leave, turning to walk out the door backwards as he warns, “I’ve got my eye on you, boss man. I’ll call you later. Drinks this week. Unless you’re too…busy.”

He waggles his eyebrows and then he’s gone.

The first thingJessica does when she steps out of the studio Wednesday afternoon is check her phone. With her heart and mind wide open, the way it always is after a couple hours working her body on the dance floor, she doesn’t even try to ward off her disappointment when she doesn’t find a message from Khalohn. She hasn’t seen him since Sunday. Since he’d wired ten grand into her bank account over the course of the previous week, it isn’t money she’s worried about. While her mother’s hospital bills are mounting by the day, they won’t come due until her stay is over. Dropping her phone back inside her purse, Jessica allows herself to embrace what her disappointment really means.

I miss him.

Summer heat still hanging on to the tail end of August, Jessica barely thinks twice about walking the short distance to the Broadway apartment. Her skin, slick and sticky from class, is begging her for a shower. By the time she reaches the lobby of the building, there’s a new trail of sweat tracing a line from the base of her neck down to the small of her back. She hurries to the elevator and watches as the numbers climb while she rides to the top floor. When she lets herself into 601, she remembers the last time she let herselfoutof the loft, and her belly twists in longing. Again, she doesn’t deny herself the feeling. She hopes she’ll have a reason to spend the night in a bed tonight.

Much to Beth’s annoyance, Jessica has refused to spend the previous few nights at home. She doesn’t like sleeping on the pull-out so long as her mother is confined to the hospital. Even still, when she woke up that morning, she knew if she didn’t get out of the room for a while, Beth might use what little strength she’s got to throttle her. Not wanting to miss a dance class anyway, she left with no argument.

After a shower and another glance at her phone, Jessica wonders if she’ll have no choice but to spend the night at home—if for no other reason than to pretend she’s got an employer who makes her work every once in a while. Even though she has permission to sleep in the very space she occupies, to stay for the night without even a single touch from Khalohn would only make her miss him more.

She’s just getting ready to leave the apartment when her phone sounds with an alert. She’s quick to check her message, and she sighs when she spots it’s only a text from Kierra. Raking her fingers through her damp hair, she opens it and finds an invitation.

Loca! Tonight – 7pm. You’re coming. You’re dancing.

All at once, Jessica’s disappointment is dulled at the prospect of spending her evening at one of the hottest clubs in Hell’s Kitchen. A night at Loca always includes amazing Tex Mex, strong margaritas, and men tossing her around the dance floor with their salsa-swaying hips.

Well, the brave ones, at least.

Before she has a chance to type out her reply, another message comes through.

Missed you Sunday at Miah’s. It’ll be a group of us tonight. You won’t regret it…

The five o’clock hour is drawing near, and Jessica can’t think of a reason to say no. Khalohn hasn’t called on her yet, Beth has been begging her to do something besides work and sleep at the hospital, and with two hours before the group gets together, she has time to drop dinner off for her mom before heading home to change into club attire. Her feet carrying her to the door, she gives in and constructs her reply.

I’ll be there.

Lorelai and Khalohnarrive at the steak restaurant, on the edge of Hell’s Kitchen, five minutes before eight. As Khalohn steps out of the Maybach, fastening his suit jacket closed, he reminds his associate, “I’m the closer, not the dealer.”

“Yes, sir.”

She smooths her hands down the front of her skirt, the only sign of her nerves, and then they make their way into the establishment. They’re seated at their reserved table a few minutes before Charles Winslow and his lawyer arrive. As he stands to greet them, Khalohn takes note of the Winslow heir. He’s a tall, lean man, tucked into a suit Khalohn knows is tailored. His dirty blond hair is in need of a trim, and the pale green eyes which meet his are dull, no doubt from countless restless nights. His lawyer, Barry Shephard, is an older man—soft around the middle, hair graying at his temples, the rest of his thinning mane combed over to one side. Khalohn’s been in business long enough to know, if it were up to him, the deal would be closed before second-round drinks. As things stand, he takes his seat with the rest of the table and looks to Lorelai to get the meal started.

Lorelai skips over idle chitchat in favor of rehashing the state of Pier House Resorts. The truth hurts, and Charles proves this to be true when he takes a big gulp of his drink upon its arrival. Soon after their dinner orders are taken, Lorelai outlines the deal she’s been working on for weeks. There’s no question, if Khalohn Morgan steps in, it’ll take over full ownership; but she leaves the option open for a single Winslow to have a spot on the board. Charles and Barry attempt to negotiate. As Khalohn instructed her on the way over, Lorelai doesn’t budge. Khalohn’s halfway through his steak when he cuts in, eliminating any and all nonsense.

“This offer expires in twenty-four hours. After that, I suppose your best option is to see how you fair with your sister at the helm. Sounds like you’ve got a battle on your hands if she makes it through that red tape.”

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