Page 95 of The Lies of Bryn van Doren

She licks her lips before tugging the bottom one between her teeth. He thinks he sees a hint of a smile at his comment before she says, “I don’t want to stay here for nothing.”

“Jess, I’m not—”

“I’m not a freeloader. You know that. And this place? If I move in here and don’t pay rent, it won’t feel any different than it did before—but thingsaredifferent.”

“I know they are.”

“So you know there’s nodealhere. It’s just us. And you’ve claimed yourself a woman who wants to stand on her own two feet. Youhaveto let me stand on my own two feet.”

Khalohn is speechless for a second, too distracted by the raw desire which fills his chest. It presses against his ribs, as if it’s uncontainable, and he wonders how it’s possible he found someone so genuine and integrous—a woman so beautiful, both inside and out, that her value is immeasurable.

When he was younger and nothing but a student, he stood on his potential. That was the promise he made to Hollie; if she was to rely on anything, he had his love and his work ethic to offer. When that ended, when he was no longer enough, he kept his head down and his sights focused. For years now, when women look at him—it’s not his potential they see. It’s the cut of his suit. The designer of his watch. The make and model of his vehicle. It’s why he was so drawn to Clandestine’s. Underground, none of that mattered. His desirability was built on a reputation of a different sort.

Then he met Jessica. When he looks at her, he sees a woman who looks at him and sees a man. It’s that simple. It’s that pure. It’s an unmatchable quality he wouldn’t trade for anything.

He drops his fork and reaches for the bottom of her chair. She lets out a started cry as he yanks her toward him, putting her in kissing distance. Her lips still parted in surprise, he doesn’t hesitate to slip the tip of his tongue into her mouth for a taste.

He lingers only a short while before he pulls away slightly and catches her eyes with his own. “The apartment is yours, free of charge, until you’ve got a job that enables you to stand on you own. When you do, we’ll renegotiate. Agreed?”

This time, it’s Jessica who stares at Khalohn before she reaches up to hold the side of his face and leans in to steal a kiss. Only, shedoeslinger—to which he has no objections.

“Got a minute?”Adams asks when Khalohn picks up his call.

It’s five minutes before ten, nearly twenty-six hours since he last heard from his PI. Khalohn’s on his way into a conference room for a meeting, but he stops shy of the doorway and turns his back to the glass wall.

“Yes.”

“As soon as I end this call, everything I’ve got will hit your inbox. And what I’ve got is a loaded gun.”

“Well?” mutters Khalohn impatiently.

“Blow.”

His brow dipping in a deep scowl, Khalohn hisses, “Excuse me?”

“Yeah. I’d say I’m good, but I think luck was on my side this time. She’s adept at hiding her extracurricular activities. Just so happens I caught her with her dealer late last night. Took me a bit to piece it all together, and there may still be a few holes in my theory, but it’s the best I can do in twenty-four.”

Adams frees a sigh and then explains, “Her trust is just about gone. Looked back at her family tree, and I don’t have to know how much she had access to when she was granted control at twenty-one to know it should have been enough funds to last a lot longer than seven years.

“She’s been living off the shares she’s got in Pier House Resorts along with some miscellaneous income I can’t trace. Between maintaining the reputation of her last name and her constant flow of snow, she’s doling out a lot of dough. More than she’s got coming in with no real job. Add to that the outrageous amount she seems to be feeding her lawyers recently, and she’s just about dry.”

Khalohn reaches up and grabs hold of the back of his neck, staring down at his shoes as he surmises, “What you’re saying is, the minute Khalohn Morgan acquires Pier House Resorts, the equity she has now—which is currently shit, given the state of the business—will be cashed out, effectively putting an end to her only traceable income.”

“That about sums it up.”

That’s why she’s fighting so hard. Without the family business, she’s out of money—and with no money, she’s nothing more than a hooker with a drug problem.

“You’ll send this over?” Khalohn asks, returning to his office.

“On its way.”

“Include your invoice,” he instructs before he disconnects. As soon as he’s in earshot of Maribelle, he says, “I need lunch reservations for three. I also need you to get in contact with Charles Winslow. Tell him to meet me. Inform him it’s an urgent matter and he should come with his lawyer.”

“Anything else?” she asks, making quick note of his request.

“Yes. As soon as I step into my next meeting, I’m going to forward you an email. It should have an invoice from Brett Adams; see to it he gets paid. As for the rest, print it—two copies. One for me, one for Lorelai.”

“Instructions for Lorelai?”

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