Hideaway
Page 15
The lace of one of her black boots dragged on the floor, and although I had no doubt she could look after herself, it was amusing how little she cared about her appearance. So different from the women I’d grown up around, at home and at school.
But my hands knew how beautiful she was. They remembered.
She stopped next to a door labeled Office and waited for me to open it. I reached around and turned the knob, and she entered, walking in and immediately heading toward the far corner at the back of the office. She turned to face me.
I almost laughed. Unlike Rika, Banks immediately went into survival mode in an unsure situation. While in enemy territory, take the vantage point with the fewest variables. Positioned in the corner, she only needed to see what was coming at her, not was what coming from behind. I’d been trying to turn that lesson into instinct with Rika for months.
Closing the door, I moved around the room, taking chairs and placing them at the round table toward the back. One that could hold all five of us.
“I can imagine dealing with some of Torrance’s associates can be difficult for a woman,” I broached. “Is that why you speak through that mouth-breather out there?”
Her eyes drifted to me briefly before turning back to the framed charcoal drawing on the wall, an art piece Rika admired and had put in here, since this office was used by all of us. She said it looked like me. Not sure how. It was a figure without a face, various strokes going outside the lines. Abstract art was a love of my father’s I hadn’t inherited, sadly.
“Did you forget you were the one who told me about The Pope?” I went on, changing the subject.
“I don’t forget anything.”
I stopped, leaning on the back of the chair I’d just moved, studying her. After so many years, that shell was not only still there, but it was a lot thicker now. She’d grown up.
“Do you still think there’s a hidden twelfth floor?”
“I think you’re far too concerned with the secrets you know exist rather than the ones you don’t.”
And then she focused her attention back on the pictures and weapons lining the walls, dismissing me.
What did that mean? What the hell didn’t I know?
“Hey, what’s going on?” Michael walked in, looking sweaty and tossing a towel over a chair. Will and Rika followed him and shut the door behind them. Will was shirtless and breathing hard, probably having just been amping it up in the weight room.
“Gabriel’s assistant,” I said, “has come with a proposition.”
“Hi.” Rika approached her with an outstretched hand. “I’m Erika Fane.”
Banks simply looked at her. Her eyes fell to Rika’s, a hint of disdain on her face before she turned away again, ignoring her.
Rika glanced at me with a question in her eyes, and then she pulled her hand away, taking a seat at the table.
We all followed suit, sitting down.
Banks took something out from inside her jacket and set it on the table, face up. It was a photo. She pushed it slowly across the wooden table toward me, and I studied the small head shot of a young woman I didn’t recognize. Dark blonde hair, blue eyes, angelic face, pretty enough…. Definitely Michael’s type. Her high cheekbones were tinted pink, and her mouth looked like a candy apple. Young and beautiful.
“Who’s this?” I asked as everyone silently inched closer to get a better look at the picture.
“Vanessa Nikova,” Banks replied. “Mr. Torrance’s niece.”
“And?” I sat back in my chair, trying to appear relaxed.
“And this is far more than just trading a hotel for a prodigal son, don’t you think?” She eyed me, a condescending look on her face. “Mr. Torrance wants undoubted assurance that you and your friends will bring no harm to his son or his family. It’s going to require more of an investment than just money.”
She looked down at the picture again. “She’s very beautiful.”
I narrowed my eyes on her. Beautiful? What?
They thought I wanted to buy the hotel, but what did this have to do with the arrangement?
“What are you getting at?” I pressed.
She cocked her head, a coy smile in her eyes. “Something a little more concrete,” she said. “A future. Alliances are still made this way.”
Alliances? I looked at my friends, trying to gauge any understanding of what the fuck she was talking about in their eyes, too, but they seemed just as lost as me.
But as I dropped my gaze to the picture again, it slowly started to hit me. My heart pumped harder, and my fists under my crossed arms clenched.
She wasn’t serious.
“You’re talking about a marriage?” Rika blurted out, glaring at her.
But Banks spoke to me. “She currently lives in London,” she informed me. “She speaks fluent English, French, Spanish, and Russian. She’s well-educated—”
“Get the fuck out.” Michael laughed bitterly.
“And she’s… untouched,” Banks finished as if Michael wasn’t about to explode three feet from her.
I leaned forward, staring at her. Untouched. A virgin.
“You’re joking,” I charged. What century was Gabriel living in? A marriage? This was fucking ludicrous
Hell, no!
But she just cocked her head at me. “The only way we can see that you won’t be tempted to hurt the Torrance family is if you’re invested with the Torrance family,” she explained. “We want an alliance that’s binding.”
I could barely breathe. I mean, I couldn’t say she was wrong, I guess. Marriages in certain families could be much more about keeping wealth and alliances secure rather than anything else, but there was no way I was doing something like that.
“For this, you will have complete autonomy over her inheritance,” she told me, “including the properties which her parents left her when they passed away several years ago.” She paused, drawing out the last bit. “And you’ll have The Pope. Free of charge. As a wedding present.”
Will sat with his arms folded over his chest, watching the scene with mild amusement, while Rika looked at me, troubled. Her entire body was stiff, and she cast a hard look at Banks out of the corner of her eye.
“He’s not marrying Damon’s cousin, okay?” Michael stood up, looking like he was done talking. “This is fucking bullshit. We don’t need the hotel. We’ll…find what we need on our own.” He gave me a knowing look, indicating our search for Damon.
Will grabbed the picture off the table and joked, “Well, I’ll marry her.”
But Michael ignored him, prodding me. “Kai? Tell her to fuck off and leave.”
But I held her dark gaze, seeing the corner of her mouth turn up just slightly, unable to hide her enjoyment at this.
“Kai?” Rika prompted when I didn’t answer Michael.
I took a deep breath and sat back in my chair, clearing my throat. “Guys, leave us alone for a minute, okay?”
“Kai?” Michael said again.
I looked up at him, trying to appear at ease. “A few minutes, okay?”
My friends all hesitated, looking between the girl and me and clearly not wanting to leave me alone with her. It was a credit to her, I suppose. That they thought she was that dangerous.
They left the room and closed the door behind them, and I picked up the photograph, holding it up. “You think you can show me a picture and that alone is supposed to tell me that’s the woman who should have my children?”
She shrugged. “She’s young, healthy…. What more do you need to know? She’ll please you.”
I laughed quietly. Jesus Christ. “It takes a lot to please me,” I taunted. “Remember?”
Her small smirk fell, and she straightened in her chair.
I flicked the picture back at her, sending it flying across the table. “Tell him to go fuck himself. It’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard of?”
And this time, she did smile as she picked up the photo in front of her and slid it back inside her jacket.
“What are you smiling at?”
“I told him you wouldn’t agree.”
“You think I should?” I countered. “You think this isn’t just some horrific way for Gabriel to bring me under his control? It’s ridiculous.” I licked my dry lips. “And I’m surprised he’d want a half-Jap polluting the family blood anyway. Seems unlike him.”
But my hands knew how beautiful she was. They remembered.
She stopped next to a door labeled Office and waited for me to open it. I reached around and turned the knob, and she entered, walking in and immediately heading toward the far corner at the back of the office. She turned to face me.
I almost laughed. Unlike Rika, Banks immediately went into survival mode in an unsure situation. While in enemy territory, take the vantage point with the fewest variables. Positioned in the corner, she only needed to see what was coming at her, not was what coming from behind. I’d been trying to turn that lesson into instinct with Rika for months.
Closing the door, I moved around the room, taking chairs and placing them at the round table toward the back. One that could hold all five of us.
“I can imagine dealing with some of Torrance’s associates can be difficult for a woman,” I broached. “Is that why you speak through that mouth-breather out there?”
Her eyes drifted to me briefly before turning back to the framed charcoal drawing on the wall, an art piece Rika admired and had put in here, since this office was used by all of us. She said it looked like me. Not sure how. It was a figure without a face, various strokes going outside the lines. Abstract art was a love of my father’s I hadn’t inherited, sadly.
“Did you forget you were the one who told me about The Pope?” I went on, changing the subject.
“I don’t forget anything.”
I stopped, leaning on the back of the chair I’d just moved, studying her. After so many years, that shell was not only still there, but it was a lot thicker now. She’d grown up.
“Do you still think there’s a hidden twelfth floor?”
“I think you’re far too concerned with the secrets you know exist rather than the ones you don’t.”
And then she focused her attention back on the pictures and weapons lining the walls, dismissing me.
What did that mean? What the hell didn’t I know?
“Hey, what’s going on?” Michael walked in, looking sweaty and tossing a towel over a chair. Will and Rika followed him and shut the door behind them. Will was shirtless and breathing hard, probably having just been amping it up in the weight room.
“Gabriel’s assistant,” I said, “has come with a proposition.”
“Hi.” Rika approached her with an outstretched hand. “I’m Erika Fane.”
Banks simply looked at her. Her eyes fell to Rika’s, a hint of disdain on her face before she turned away again, ignoring her.
Rika glanced at me with a question in her eyes, and then she pulled her hand away, taking a seat at the table.
We all followed suit, sitting down.
Banks took something out from inside her jacket and set it on the table, face up. It was a photo. She pushed it slowly across the wooden table toward me, and I studied the small head shot of a young woman I didn’t recognize. Dark blonde hair, blue eyes, angelic face, pretty enough…. Definitely Michael’s type. Her high cheekbones were tinted pink, and her mouth looked like a candy apple. Young and beautiful.
“Who’s this?” I asked as everyone silently inched closer to get a better look at the picture.
“Vanessa Nikova,” Banks replied. “Mr. Torrance’s niece.”
“And?” I sat back in my chair, trying to appear relaxed.
“And this is far more than just trading a hotel for a prodigal son, don’t you think?” She eyed me, a condescending look on her face. “Mr. Torrance wants undoubted assurance that you and your friends will bring no harm to his son or his family. It’s going to require more of an investment than just money.”
She looked down at the picture again. “She’s very beautiful.”
I narrowed my eyes on her. Beautiful? What?
They thought I wanted to buy the hotel, but what did this have to do with the arrangement?
“What are you getting at?” I pressed.
She cocked her head, a coy smile in her eyes. “Something a little more concrete,” she said. “A future. Alliances are still made this way.”
Alliances? I looked at my friends, trying to gauge any understanding of what the fuck she was talking about in their eyes, too, but they seemed just as lost as me.
But as I dropped my gaze to the picture again, it slowly started to hit me. My heart pumped harder, and my fists under my crossed arms clenched.
She wasn’t serious.
“You’re talking about a marriage?” Rika blurted out, glaring at her.
But Banks spoke to me. “She currently lives in London,” she informed me. “She speaks fluent English, French, Spanish, and Russian. She’s well-educated—”
“Get the fuck out.” Michael laughed bitterly.
“And she’s… untouched,” Banks finished as if Michael wasn’t about to explode three feet from her.
I leaned forward, staring at her. Untouched. A virgin.
“You’re joking,” I charged. What century was Gabriel living in? A marriage? This was fucking ludicrous
Hell, no!
But she just cocked her head at me. “The only way we can see that you won’t be tempted to hurt the Torrance family is if you’re invested with the Torrance family,” she explained. “We want an alliance that’s binding.”
I could barely breathe. I mean, I couldn’t say she was wrong, I guess. Marriages in certain families could be much more about keeping wealth and alliances secure rather than anything else, but there was no way I was doing something like that.
“For this, you will have complete autonomy over her inheritance,” she told me, “including the properties which her parents left her when they passed away several years ago.” She paused, drawing out the last bit. “And you’ll have The Pope. Free of charge. As a wedding present.”
Will sat with his arms folded over his chest, watching the scene with mild amusement, while Rika looked at me, troubled. Her entire body was stiff, and she cast a hard look at Banks out of the corner of her eye.
“He’s not marrying Damon’s cousin, okay?” Michael stood up, looking like he was done talking. “This is fucking bullshit. We don’t need the hotel. We’ll…find what we need on our own.” He gave me a knowing look, indicating our search for Damon.
Will grabbed the picture off the table and joked, “Well, I’ll marry her.”
But Michael ignored him, prodding me. “Kai? Tell her to fuck off and leave.”
But I held her dark gaze, seeing the corner of her mouth turn up just slightly, unable to hide her enjoyment at this.
“Kai?” Rika prompted when I didn’t answer Michael.
I took a deep breath and sat back in my chair, clearing my throat. “Guys, leave us alone for a minute, okay?”
“Kai?” Michael said again.
I looked up at him, trying to appear at ease. “A few minutes, okay?”
My friends all hesitated, looking between the girl and me and clearly not wanting to leave me alone with her. It was a credit to her, I suppose. That they thought she was that dangerous.
They left the room and closed the door behind them, and I picked up the photograph, holding it up. “You think you can show me a picture and that alone is supposed to tell me that’s the woman who should have my children?”
She shrugged. “She’s young, healthy…. What more do you need to know? She’ll please you.”
I laughed quietly. Jesus Christ. “It takes a lot to please me,” I taunted. “Remember?”
Her small smirk fell, and she straightened in her chair.
I flicked the picture back at her, sending it flying across the table. “Tell him to go fuck himself. It’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard of?”
And this time, she did smile as she picked up the photo in front of her and slid it back inside her jacket.
“What are you smiling at?”
“I told him you wouldn’t agree.”
“You think I should?” I countered. “You think this isn’t just some horrific way for Gabriel to bring me under his control? It’s ridiculous.” I licked my dry lips. “And I’m surprised he’d want a half-Jap polluting the family blood anyway. Seems unlike him.”
