Page 83 of The Lies of Bryn van Doren

Ignoring Porter’s comment, Khalohn simply inquires, “What are you doing here?”

“There are so many more pertinent questions than that right now,” scoffs Porter.

The two men stare at one another for a long moment, and then Khalohn heaves a sigh. He knows Porter won’t relent. It’s not in his character. With this in mind, he gives Jessica a squeeze, beckoning her attention. Once he has it, he regretfully suggests, “Maybe you should put some clothes on.”

She nods and then slips out of his hold, hurrying toward the bedroom. He watches her until she’s out of sight, then he shifts his attention back to his uninvited guest, who’s grinning like a fool.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” he teases. “She’s a stunner. Where’d you find her?”

Khalohn ignores his questions, again, and turns to head into the kitchen. As he suspected he would, Porter follows close behind.

“Come on. Give me something. There’s a story here. I mean, what, you took her to bed, decided you didn’t want to see the light of day until you’d had your fill, so you quit the office for the week?”

“Don’t be an asshole,” demands Khalohn as he goes about making a batch of French press coffee.

“Answer my questions, and maybe—”

“Her mother passed,” he interrupts, looking his friend straight in the eye. “She’s going through a tough time.”

“Shit,” mumbles Porter, instantly somber.

The truth earns Khalohn a moment of silence before his broker pipes in again.

“Honestly, though—what’s the deal with you two? You dropped everything, so I’m guessing it’s serious.”

“I haven’tdroppedeverything. And what it is, is none of your business.”

“Five years I’ve known you. Not once have I found a woman in this place. Not once.”

“Read into it what you will,” Khalohn begins to say. At the sound of her light footsteps, he glances toward the stairs and sees Jessica making her way down. He takes her in from top to toe, her toned legs now adorned in a pair of pale pink leggings, the side of her white sports bra visible in the loose fitting, dove gray tank top that drapes from her shoulders. Without taking his eyes away from her, he informs his friend, “You likely won’t be too far from the truth.”

As soon as Jessica reaches the bottom of the stairs, she doesn’t stop until she’s tucked under Khalohn’s arm. After she got dressed, she had half a mind to stay out of sight. Curiosity getting the better of her, she couldn’t help herself. So much of her relationship with Khalohn has been restricted to the bedroom. While the last week has brought about quite a bit of change, she’s not met anyone in his life, aside from Atzel. Wanting to know everything there is to know about the man at her side, she decides to stay close.

“I’m sorry to hear about your mother,” says the stranger, catching Jessica off guard.

She flinches in Khalohn’s hold. He feels it and tightens his arm around her as she replies, “Thank you.”

“Jessica, this is my broker—Porter Hunt. Porter, Jessica.”

His smug smile returns as he replies, “Broker and only friend. He likes to leave that part out.”

“I’m still trying to figure out why you’rehere.”

“You canceled our standing lunch last Friday, you’ve been ducking my calls since—there’s a gala Friday night you agreed to attend, and I’m just wondering if you’ll be there or not. You’re an idiot if you don’t show. Everyone with any power in this city will be there, along with those stupid enough to think they’ve got power, but rich enough to get through the door.”

Khalohn inhales deeply and Jessica looks up at him as her arms move with the puff of his chest. The muscles in his cheek jump as he clenches his jaw closed tight, and she’s fascinated by the sight. So much so, she almost misses his reply.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Suddenly aware of why he might back out of a party he’s already agreed to attend, Jessica inserts herself into the conversation. “If you’re thinking of not going because of me, you should go.”

Dropping his gaze to find hers, he mutters, “I’m thinking of not going because I find these events insufferable.”

“The price you pay for being among the upper echelon of Wall Street’s businessmen,” says Porter. “Look, you deal with a handful of these dinners a year. It’s good for your reputation.”

“Good business is good for my reputation, and I’ve got that in spades.”

Shaking his head in both amusement and annoyance, Porter counters, “You know what I mean. Good business breeds a good reputation; but attending parties with the powerful stimulatesgood business. This is why you keep me around, boss man—because I know what I’m talking about. Because I drag you to these things. Hell,I’mgood for business.”

---