Family Business (Mixing Business with Pleasure Book 3) Read online

  “You are truly brilliant, Nick. People see the savvy but they don't see the utter genius behind it."

  He tried to hide an embarrassed smile. “Kate, I don’t…That’s not…You’re the brilliant one.”

  I rolled my eyes just before launching my arms around his neck and yanking him down into a smoldering kiss. He bumped up against the desk but caught me firmly. His smile was broad and full against my lips. He pulled back just far enough to speak.

  “I thought you had to get all sorts of work done." Every time he let his lips graze mine as he spoke, my skin caught fire. My insides liquefied when he nudged his erection against me. "Not happy about leaving the bed now are you?"

  He laughed as I slumped against him and shook my head against his shoulder. Emotion pooled inside me and sentiment bubbled up in full force.

  “Nick, I want to say something before you leave, okay?”

  He pulled back and the corners of his eyes crinkled. I could tell by the set of his shoulders that he was holding his breath. I tried to smile but tears threatened to choke me instead, making for a confusing and contorted face.

  “You are my other half.” I cleared my throat. “You are the only person I trust with my business, and more importantly, my heart. I know last night was not great but I swear to God or on the moon or on this business, whatever you want, I'm in this.”

  I didn’t even really get the last bit out before he mashed his lips to mine. They were confused, trying to consume mine, and press gently all at the same time. His hands worked against me, trying to pull me closer but cradle me too. There was some sort of rolling wave of tingles resonating through me when he let his tongue wander into my mouth. My hands moved into his hair then traced down along his shoulders in the same sweetly frantic motions.

  My breath caught when he scooped me up and carried me to the couch. Nick kept an arm around me while he shoved cushions to the floor then laid me on the soft gray fabric.

  Nick slid ever so gently over top of me. His hand caressed my thigh and notched behind my knee, barely squeezing as he hitched me up and started a slow roll between my thighs. So many times sex was urgent and rough between us. This had none of that frenzy.

  He slowly kissed down my body, lifting my shirt to expose my belly button, then continued down my stomach. When he finally pulled my top off, goose bumps spread across every exposed inch of me. He moved in closer, finding a way to cover me completely while his lips wandered around, tracing passionate trails.

  Not a single thought crossed my mind except Nicholas Bryant. His taste, his smell, his skin, and his unique brand of adoration filled my senses. My mind was foggy, and all I remember was sensation; skin on skin rather than him actually stripping me naked. There were kisses and hands and stroking as he pressed his perfect naked body up to mine. His arms wrapped around me, cocooning my head as he bit down on my bottom lip and pushed slowly into me.

  6.

  I looked up at the couch for the 800th time and blushed.

  Damned couch.

  That damned couch where my damned sexy boyfriend had his damned way with me.

  And God damn was it good.

  So good in fact, I’d had a hard time refocusing and was still working at 11 p.m.

  Jaime had settled into a seat long ago and had almost finished reading an Ian Flemming novel. In all that time his phone only buzzed twice. The relative peace was almost as distracting as the memories flitting through my mind. I’d started absentmindedly chewing on my cheek in an effort to concentrate, but I had a better chance of actually breaking skin then I did of focusing.

  Jaime’s phone buzzed a third time, and I let out a deep breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. He barely had time to check the screen before I spoke up.

  “Is everything ok? Is Nick ok?”

  “Give me a minute.” His brow furrowed as he read his screen. Almost as quickly as he looked down, Jaime looked up with a warm smile on his face. “Everything is perfectly fine.” “That was just Colton checking in. If you’d like to stay much longer he’ll relieve me.”

  “Oh,” I said and arched back, making a face.

  I was sure Nick would have been harassing one or both of us to get home by now. Apparently, the confusion read loud and clear in the way my face contorted.

  “Mr. Bryant asked once how long we were going to be. When I told him I didn’t know but could ask, he simply told me not to bother you.”

  I started chewing on the inside of my cheek again.

  “Is he mad at me?” He’d gone silent on more than one occasion for that exact reason.

  “Kate?” Jaime looked up from his book, his warm smile had shifted to quizzical, complete with arched eyebrow. “Why on earth would he be upset with you? In my opinion, you let him off a little too easy this time.” He chuckled softly.

  “He usually hounds one or both of us at this hour.”

  Jaime understood that it just didn’t feel right. “I believe he’s trying out this novel thing called patience.” His shoulders shook from his husky laugh.

  “Huh.” Patience was so unexpected, I honestly couldn’t think of anything to say.

  “When you came back, Kate, something shifted. I have every faith that he’ll do whatever he can keep you. Including show some restraint.”

  I nodded again, still at a complete loss for words.

  “If it makes you feel better, there’s probably a punching bag or Hong Kong executive that’s taking the brunt of it.” Jaime capped off his statement with a roll of his eyes and even though it wasn’t funny, a loud “Ha!” escaped my lips.

  The truth behind Jaime’s words was what finally made me give up. I wasn’t here to punish Nick or anyone else for that matter. Jaime smiled even wider when I asked him to call the car service then packed my things.

  As predicted, Nick was shouting into the phone at some poor soul when I walked into the apartment. In Cantonese, no less. I leaned against the office doorframe for a few minutes, watching him pace around the room like a baited animal, muscles flexing and coiling under the fine fabric of his clothes. When he started gesturing wildly with his free hand, I pushed away from the dark paneling and walked toward him.

  He sensed me and lifted his arm so I could slink in underneath when I got close enough. All his rigid tension melted as I wove my hands around his waist. Even the tone of his voice changed; I shook my head at the response. The moment his tirade stopped, he leaned down to kiss my forehead where it was tucked beneath his chin. His fingers started circling along my ribs, and a shiver ran up my spine at his touch.

  “I’m glad you’re home,” he said against my skin. I wasn’t sure when he’d hung up the phone.

  “Me too.” I nestled in under the crook of his jaw.

  He held me like that until his phone started buzzing again. He simply reached into his pocket to silence the BlackBerry.

  “Baby, is everything okay?” I pulled back so I could see his eyes when he answered.

  “Same shit.” They were mostly gray but a little bit of blue danced around his irises.

  “We never got a chance to discuss the list of issues you rattled off at me. What did Victor’s note say?” I tensed in anticipation of an answering onslaught.

  “To watch out. That I’d pay for what I did but he swore to God, it wasn’t his doing,” he answered without hesitation.

  I choked back the bile that bubbled up to my throat. “What’s he getting at?”

  “I wish I knew. He’s making it sound like he’s a player in someone else’s game.”

  “Could it be…” I let my voice trail off, not even wanting to say Christopher’s name. The way Nick’s eyes went flat, I was glad I hadn’t.

  “I hope…God…I don’t know.” His voice choked off. “I mean…”

  “What?” I barely breathed.

  “It would be weird. They don’t know each other. They have no reason to, but…”

  “But?” I murmured.

  “I can’t find him.” I couldn’t tell if it w
as fear or anger that tinged Nick’s growl when he referred to Christopher. “Anyway you’ll let him go for the moment?” he asked, softly.

  “Sure.” Nick had shared openly at my request; I’d stop at his. I looked for a change of subject, catching Christmas lights hanging on a distant window. “Hey, do we have any plans for Christmas? Laura will be in Portland.”

  “I hadn’t really thought about it.” He sighed. “I doubt you’ll be surprised but I don’t really do Christmas.”

  “Oh, Nick, I…”

  “It’s okay, Sweets.” Nick’s finger came to my chin and pulled my eyes up to his. “It was partially because of my step father, but also because I don’t usually have time.”

  “You don’t have time for Christmas?”

  “Julien buys my gifts and has them delivered. I take the day off and buy a particularly rare, exceptionally delicious scotch and try to relax. I don’t often succeed.”

  “No decorations, no movies or carols or cookies?”

  “No.” He smiled. “You make time for all that?”

  “Well, I try but I guess Laura always did most of the work. Or towed me home to Oregon with her.” I shrugged remembering how she’d recruited her ex-boyfriend to get a twelve-foot live tree into their seventh floor apartment last year—he’d had to hire four movers—but we caroled drunk beneath it while I burned cookies.

  “I’ll see if I can arrange for something.” He was businesslike but his face had lightened. I pulled his body back flush with mine and let my lips graze along his neck and jaw where I could reach.

  That was the last moment I stood still with Nick for almost two weeks. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the only time he’d been overly sweet though. We fell into a new pattern that made our relationship seem completely normal.

  I hated it.

  Nick was usually gone or already shouting Cantonese on a conference call by the time I woke. I was at the office late enough for Colton to relieve Jaime most nights. When I dragged my weary ass home, there was only a fifty-fifty chance Nick was there to meet me. When he was, he wordlessly took me to bed and lavished attention on my clit until I pierced the quiet of our apartment with the shrieks of a joint rattling orgasm.

  At Nick’s command, Jaime provided me daily updates on the problematic men in our lives. He also accommodated my every request to run, albeit usually with beefed up security.

  I’d been gifted with Nick’s take on Christmas decorations—chic and simple modern decorations to compliment the architecture and interior design of our immaculate penthouse. Normally chic sleek silver and simple shimmering white were the epitome of my aesthetic but there was no red or green, nothing homey or comforting. All my childhood decorations were still tucked in boxes at Laura’s.

  It felt wrong.

  Matter of fact, it all felt wrong. There was zero conflict between Nick and I. He was exercising patience and understanding in everything, and it didn’t sit well. It was obvious he was trying—hell, it was obvious he was succeeding at being a better boyfriend. But in the end, I questioned whether that made things any better between us.

  Even the sex was focused fully on me. I couldn’t recall whether he’d come since Thanksgiving. He'd pulled out all the tricks my body responded to and had me coming hard and fast daily. But all without his cock inside me. We certainly hadn't done anything kinky. I couldn’t recall if we’d lasted more than 30 minutes…

  Is he masturbating in the shower?

  I would have been. The thought was downright depressing.

  The more I dwelled on the dynamic, the further I spiraled. Was this what a life together would be like? Once our major conflicts were resolved, were we this boring? Could I be satisfied with that sort of relationship? Could he? Neither of us signed up for white picket fences.

  I got myself so worked up that I convinced myself I couldn't feel the electricity between us anymore. And, of all the ways I thought I might lose Nicholas Bryant, morphing into beige and growing tired of us hadn’t one of them.

  I was panicking—regularly—and rather than hyperventilate like a normal person, my temper flared. Spectacularly. Every employee at Vesper had cowered on the other side of my desk at one point or another. Nick and Jaime had both gotten their fair share of pinched looks and icy growls as well.

  I shot Jaime one such look when he cleared his throat around 4:30 p.m. the day of our Hong Kong flight. His subtle hint was the first thing that pulled me from the contact sheets marketing had sent over two hours ago.

  “One minute, Jaime. I have to get Callista on board with the campaign and her PR firm behind Vesper before I leave.”

  He made an excessively sour grimace at my request, but let me yank out my BlackBerry nonetheless. As always, Callista tried to steamroll me for Bryant related-details the second she answered. When we started bickering, Jaime wordlessly began gathering the items I normally did, effectively packing my bag.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him hand my belongings off to Gemma, then circle back to collect me. When I held up my pointer finger asking for another minute he simply used my outstretch wrist to pull me up out of my chair and toward the elevator.

  4:47 p.m. Motherfucker.

  I was running over fifteen minutes late. The old Bryant would have flipped, this new, patient Bryant would probably apologize to me for some imagined slight. Nauseated at the idea of a simpering conversation, I let Jaime corral me. I even walked quickly to the waiting Bentley.

  When Callista tried to circle back to personal PR issues, horns started blaring in painfully slow traffic. My shoulders inched up to my ears, and my free hand balled against the leather beneath me. My temper was moments away from erupting in a way that threatened to shatter me.

  But then my phone vibrated and buzzed beneath my ear. Then again. And again. Soon they rolled in almost on top of one another, each text message resonating like a tiny expletive. When Jaime started receiving a similar flurry of buzzes and his face contorted, I guessed exactly who they were from. And what they were saying. A little over two weeks ago, they’d been commonplace. My blood boiled and, as sick and twisted as it may have been, it surged excitement rather than fury through my veins.

  Perhaps he still has a backbone.

  The more buzzes that resonated beneath my ear, the more I wanted to hang up on Callista, call Nick and yell, “We’re on our fucking way!” then hang up just to fan the flames. It was masochistic but something about bickering felt right.

  I resisted the urge and was still mid-conversation when we pulled up to the heliport. Nick paced in front of the helicopter with Colton. The storm in his eyes told me far more than any of the texts would have. I was in even more trouble than I’d guessed. Not a single hint of the cool, calm, collected Nick from the last two weeks was on the tarmac.

  As soon as I walked up, Nick lunged for my phone. Mercifully his fingers missed tangling into my hair as he snatched my cell from my ear and barked, "Ms. Elliott is running late. She’ll contact you later.” He hung up as forcefully as possible then pocketed my phone just in time for me to screech and shove him. He stutter-stepped and my back bristled when he steadied himself and glared at me.

  "That was important!”

  "Being on time is important,” he shot back.

  My heart thudded as he took one powerful stride toward me, curled his fingertips around my arm, and pulled me toward the helicopter. My phone ring was barely audible from his pocket over the whir of the blades. I scrambled to reach for it.

  “You should be glad I decided to come in the first place.” I was shouting but it had nothing to do with the cacophony of mechanical noise.

  "If you were going to make me late and embarrass me in front of potential associates, perhaps you shouldn't have!" He managed to keep me away from my cell and get me up into the helicopter.

  The door shut behind us but it did little to dampen the noise. I put extra volume into my voice to shout, "Screw you” as I crossed my arms and turned away from him, refusing to take the headphones he
held out for me.

  “Kate, put these on," he snarled, "before you make things worse." I kept my arms crossed and my eyes fixed out on the water surrounding the pier. Without warning, the giant headphones scraped down my ears, stinging and shoving my sunglasses into my lap.

  Without thinking, I turned and slapped him hard and fast across the face. He looked so stunned I almost backpedaled to apologize. But then his whole face pinched. He took my phone out, fiddled momentarily at the side then snatched the sim card and handed me the empty, dead case of a phone. I contemplated chucking it out of the rising helicopter or smacking him again. Or throwing the phone then slapping him.

  True to form, Jaime’s eyebrows almost climbed off his forehead before he picked somewhere else to look.

  After a few strained minutes we touched down at Teeterboro, and the helicopter blades came to a stop in front of a hanger. Even though we were fighting, Bryant reached his hand back to help me down. I pursed my lips then purposely ignored it, reaching for Jaime’s unsuspecting shoulder instead. When my hand clutched his suit, Jaime turned to help me down. Nick eyed us both then stormed off, his blazer whipping behind him in the wind. I kept a hold of Jaime's arm as I click-clacked across the tarmac after Nick.

  "We were late." Jaime leaned in, murmuring, trying to ease the tension before a 24-hour flight.

  "He's being a dick."

  Jaime tried to stifle a laugh at my retort. He almost succeeded but I still caught a small scoff.

  The plane was decorated in the same beautiful pale fabrics and dark woods that were a trademark of Bryant spaces. Warm, recessed lighting filled the seating area making the plush couch and recliner-style seats infinitely more inviting. A few pillows and soft furry blankets accented the various seating options. Nick had chosen an individual seat with a narrow tabletop in front of it. There was a single seat next to it that had newspaper scattered over its cushions. When I walked up, he shuffled to collect the papers.

  I eyed the seat, then him, trying to decide where on the temper tantrum scale I actually was. He refused to meet my eyes, instead making an overly dramatic gesture telling me to sit.