Straight to the point. Damn. A not-so-subtle reminder of what I was guessing the PR team didn’t know about, based on their confusion now.

  Understanding brought some color back to Matt’s face. “Oh. I see.” He glanced to me, embarrassment showing, then that cleared too. Resolve had him raising his head farther, and he nodded again. “Okay. Yes.” He said to Martha, “Use me. I can release texts from Amanda and any other sordid detail you’ll need.”

  Martha was looking from Peter to me to Kash and to Matt. Back and forth. Her eyebrows firmly pinched downward. Then she came to a decision, and they smoothed out.

  “Okay,” she said to Kash. “You are not our client. I was not aware. Good that I am now, and our most important priority is shielding Bailey. We can adjust to these parameters and do this. You’ll cooperate?” The last question was to Matt.

  He nodded, his lips thinning once again. “I said I would.” But he wasn’t doing it happily. That was clear.

  Martha turned to her team. “Okay. We can go and start moving on this.” Her gaze fell to Chrissy, and she faltered as her workers began leaving the room. “Unless there’s another matter we haven’t addressed?”

  “There isn’t.” Peter spoke up before my mom could. He had gone back to his computer. “Bailey’s mother is here for her daughter. That is all.”

  It was a nice dismissal, but I was sure there was an added sting being sent in my mother’s direction. Her eyes clouded over, so I was right, but Kash was standing. His hand on my wrist. He was pulling me with him, shaking his head when I looked up at him. He was warning me against getting between the two.

  Matt was trailing behind the PR team, talking to the two girls.

  Martha was moving ahead of us, so once we cleared the doors, we still didn’t say a word. Kash didn’t want my father’s PR team to learn anything more, but we did move to the elevator with them all.

  I glanced back.

  Chrissy was coming down the hallway with Marie, their heads together, talking in quiet tones.

  The elevator opened. Kash waited as most of the publicists got on. Matt looked to remain once it was filled, but Martha stepped back and nodded to him. “You stay. Go with them. I’ll catch the next one.”

  The door closed.

  Marie and Chrissy joined us, and we were all silent. Waiting for another elevator to ping its arrival.

  Once it did, Kash still didn’t go.

  Marie and Chrissy moved around us, pausing as they stepped inside.

  He said to Marie, “Take Bailey’s mother to the estate. We’ll be coming later.”

  Martha was clearly hoping to go with us, but when he gave her a pointed look, she got on. Slapping a hand to hold the doors open, she lowered her voice. “I have been aware of who you are while I’ve worked for Peter Francis. I didn’t know all the details, and I’m impressed with how much you were able to keep quiet. But make no mistake. That time is gone, Mr. Colello. You are firmly, and I believe permanently, in the spotlight—your holdings with Phoenix Tech, who your grandfather is … and I have a feeling you have more you are attempting to hide. But you are not only a national interest but global as well. Governments are going to be interested in you. Do not put off moving on your public perception. You will be shocked how much it will help if we work with the press rather than against them.”

  Those were her parting words before she stepped back.

  The door closed between us and them.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  I assumed we weren’t going with them.

  Kash’s hand was on the back of my shoulders, guiding me into the elevator when it opened again, and as soon as the door shut he was crowding me against the wall. There was a camera in here, but damn. I was not caring. Watching me, almost close enough to kiss, he hovered over me as he pushed the button for us. I thought he’d close the distance, but he didn’t. He was just standing against me, looking into me, and feeling my heartbeat speeding up.

  Not one word was spoken.

  We were there, right there, with each other. Seeing each other. Feeling each other. Our chests were rising, matching, and as soon as that started, I saw him. He was torn. He was tired. He was twisted inside. And seeing that I was seeing him, his hand raised like it always did. He touched my chin, his thumb grazing over my lips. His eyes darkened and he began to bend down, his lips just a trace away from touching mine.

  The door opened, and someone cleared their throat.

  He swore under his breath, moving with his hand behind my back, and we pushed past a small group of onlookers. Eyes were wide as they put two and two together. I was assuming Kash wasn’t a regular fixture at the building. I was wondering if my father was, because we weren’t at the headquarters, just one of his buildings downtown.

  He guided me outside, where a car was waiting for us. So were the press. Cameras started going off as we climbed inside. People were asking Kash questions. A few were sent my way, but the publicist was right. Everyone was enamored with Kash.

  He leaned forward, telling the driver, “My place.” Then he was sitting back, capturing my hand and threading our fingers. He held on to me as if he needed my touch to just be. My heart was in my throat, feeling all of that and letting it roll over me. I was just embracing it, until our driver pulled into the basement parking garage and we were getting back out.

  “Kash,” I started, as soon as we got to his place, but he wasn’t having it.

  He caught me up, lifting me in the air, and I was carried to his bedroom.

  I felt his urgency.

  He stripped me bare, laying me down, and then he worshipped me.

  He needed this. I felt it in every inch of my being.

  He needed to love me, to make me come—over and over again, if I was basing this off past nights—and then, only then, would he allow himself release. And as he took the rest of his clothes off, every inch of him taut and hard and just a masterpiece for me to appreciate, he came back to me, and I was right.

  He took his time, making me cry out and plead and scream. He waited until my voice was hoarse, until I was begging for him to enter me, and only then did he pull on a condom and sheath himself inside of me.

  Long. Deep. He pushed in, held, and his eyes holding mine, he began to move.

  Thrusting.

  Slow.

  So fucking controlled.

  I was going with him. I was trying to make him lose control, but he was locked in some form of restraint that I couldn’t penetrate. I tried. I kissed him. I raked my nails down his back, his chest. As he pulled out, I reached for him, but he only caught my hand and pinned it back beside my head. He pushed back in, still so goddamn fucking slow, stretching me, making me feel every single inch of him, before he pulled back out, then in.

  “Kash. Please.”

  He bent his head down, his forehead resting on my shoulder, and a deep groan escaped him. He pushed harder, deeper, and then something snapped.

  He moved faster. More forcefully.

  It was building. Rising inside of me, mixing with a deeper emotion, twining together, and as he pushed, grinding to the hilt and his hand coming to my clit, I cried out.

  Gripping my hip tight, he turned his head into my neck.

  A growl ripped from him and I felt his body jerking, falling down onto me, as we both climaxed, our bodies trembling.

  “Fuck,” he bit out, catching my body as he slipped out.

  He tucked and rolled us both so I was half sprawled over him.

  He didn’t talk, just nuzzled into my neck, until he lifted me so I was lying completely on top of him. His arms tightened around me, helping me turn so I was facing him. My breasts were on his chest. Hips to hips. I felt him starting to stir, but he didn’t do anything else. His eyes were closed, head bent into my shoulder and neck, and he skimmed his lips there.

  “Fuck, Bailey.” A soft groan from him. His head rested against his headboard, just barely meeting there, and he opened his eyes to see me.

  Anguish looked back at me.

  My breath paused.

  Alarm raced through me, and I raised myself up, a hand pushing off from his chest. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He blinked, and when he looked at me again, the anguish was gone. He was focused solely and completely on me. He almost looked drugged, a contentment swimming deep in those cognac eyes.

  “Hey.” I pressed my hand against the side of his face. “What’s wrong? You need to tell me.”

  He didn’t speak for a moment, turning his head. Cupping the back of mine, he raised himself up until his mouth was on mine.

  He didn’t tell me.

  He didn’t say anything the rest of the night, instead rolling me back underneath him, and it wasn’t long before he was sliding inside once again.

  We stayed in the rest of the day, that night, and for the next few days as well. Just him and me.

  It felt perfect. But it wasn’t.

  Kash wasn’t letting me in.

  FORTY-NINE

  I don’t want to say we all hid after that, but we did.

  We stayed out of the spotlight. Gone were his trips to try to find out what my kidnappers were doing, or what his grandfather was planning. Once it came out who Kash was related to, where he was, and that there was a clock running on him taking over his shares in Phoenix Tech, the buck stopped there. Something was coming. No one knew what it was, but everyone felt it, and because of that, we were tense.

  I mean, everyone was pretending we weren’t, but we were.

  Kash and I stayed at his place until press found out where he lived, and after that, even though we could go in and out with relative privacy because of his basement parking lot, there was a trapped feeling that came with them knowing what building we were in. He’d gotten a few calls from the lobby about people trying to come in under the guise of delivering flowers or gifts. Kash told me he’d never dealt with that anyway, so the fact that he was getting calls said a lot. If he got any delivery before, whatever it was had been signed for by the front desk and placed aside until he retrieved it in his own time.

  Management had also called to let him know that his neighbors were starting to complain.

  Kash’s response was, “Deal with it, or I’ll buy the entire building and kick them out.” The calls stopped after that, and really, were his neighbors actually going to move out? This would all die down. Eventually.

  Right?

  Kash didn’t want to wait. After a few neighbors had started to try to meet, chat, or “socialize” with him as we crossed the lobby, or when one of the guys approached me when I was using the exercise bike in the gym—

  Yes, let’s all fall over in shock. I worked out. Once.

  I felt fate was telling me to get my ass in running readiness.

  It didn’t last.

  Back to the guy, though, because it wasn’t that we were being rude. At first, I liked some of the neighbors trying to reach out and be friendly. I did; Kash didn’t. He wasn’t like that, anyway. He didn’t need to make friends. In that respect, I was the more outgoing one. And it’d been a nice change from the earlier complaints. But this guy had been too much. He was hitting on me the second he saw me, propositioning me so I could feel what a real stud felt like.

  My relationship with exercising had been quick and brief. Just like how that guy got handled.

  A quiet phone call occurred, after I told Kash about the guy, and the next morning I saw him carrying boxes to a moving van.

  Kash got the guy evicted.

  And that was also the time we went to the Chesapeake and stayed at his villa. I’d talked to my mom on the phone, so I wasn’t altogether surprised when we got there and found her, fitting in like she’d never not been there.

  Matt was staying in his old bedroom, which was in its own section of the mausoleum.

  Seraphina and Cyclone were ecstatic. They now had Marie, Theresa, and Chrissy and Matt full time there. Kash and I were back, and they were over the moon.

  Cyclone wanted to celebrate by having a bowling party, so we had pizza and bowled that night. We used their private bowling lanes on the estate, which was connected to the bar.

  Somehow, that translated into a party, and a few of Matt’s friends came over.

  So that night I got the pleasure of meeting Fleur, Victoria, and the third friend all over again. They were a lot nicer now, knowing who I was in relation to Matt. All except Victoria. She was frigid, but I hadn’t expected otherwise. She came in with her nose wrinkled up, seeing Kash next to me, and her attitude only got worse. It might have affected another person, but not me. I was glad she kept her distance. The other guys in Matt’s group, not so much. They came over, treating me and Kash like we were long-lost friends.

  Chester. Tony. I learned the blond guy was named Guy. It was a family name for him, too. He was officially Guy IV. And of the males, after Matthew, he was the friendliest. Or maybe he was the most easygoing. That was a better word to describe him. He didn’t seem affected that I was Matthew’s sister, or intimidated by Kash.

  He was the first to come over, slap Kash on the back, and ask him for a loan.

  That was followed with a wink, but it broke the ice. Everyone in this group already knew who Kash was, but now that it was out, they weren’t sure how to treat him. They came in cautious, but when Kash rejected Guy based on his credit, everyone relaxed.

  Well, for them they relaxed.

  Victoria was still pissy. Chester was still dirty. Tony leered, and Matthew had a restless edge to him, but that was just them.

  It wasn’t the first night Matt had his friends over, but over the next month, it wasn’t a common event. They came over twice more, mostly to commiserate with Matthew after he did a new interview, fulfilling the publicist’s plans.

  We got an update from Martha, and according to her, it was working … regarding me.

  Because I had completely left the spotlight and there were no sightings of me, I had fallen off the society pages and gossip sites. There’d been a few exposé pieces about me. They attempted to interview people from my past, but I looked and was glad hardly anyone from my local town was quoted. That said something. They were keeping quiet.

  Martha was quick to inform us that this didn’t mean they forgot who I was, just that Matthew’s affair and the police charges brought against Drew Bonham were getting more press.

  She didn’t say anything about Kash. The furtive glances she gave him said enough. And after a search online (which I had also taken a break from), I saw my guess was right.

  He was still everywhere, but now the story was being moved to other sites, such as the financial pages, in addition to the normal gossip sites. The articles talked about how his new presence at Phoenix Tech would affect its stock and whether there would be a battle between Peter Francis and Calhoun Bastian, who reportedly had started buying shares in competing tech companies.

  Interesting.

  And alarming.

  Kash saw me reading one of these stories, came over, shut my laptop, and picked me up. He was doing his whole thing of not talking by doing other things with me. It was working. I wasn’t putting up much of a fight, but the time would come.

  Until then, I let him carry me to bed.

  The next morning he asked me not to worry about “that stuff.”

  Stuff. That’s what he called it.

  I was gearing up for a battle one time, when he dipped his head down to my shoulder, his hand skimming over my body, and settled on top of me. Feeling the worry and exhaustion from him, I bit my tongue. Literally. He didn’t want me worrying because that’s all he was doing.

  I did what I could, which wasn’t much.

  I enjoyed my time with Kash through August. I enjoyed having my mother there. I wasn’t understanding the dynamics between her, Peter, and Quinn, but I wasn’t looking to cause a problem. I liked having her there. And I soaked up all the time I could with my siblings.

  I continued work on my security system, and I searched Calhoun Bastian.

  It was one of those nights when everyone was at the pool. A movie screen had been pulled out and positioned with a projector. They were planning to have a drive-in sort of experience, but lounging on inner tubes in the pool. Pizza, soda—and some healthy options were provided, because Quinn was supposed to be there, too.

  I’d been swimming earlier, but excused myself. A whole buzz of hostility and forced politeness was in the air, and the longer Quinn stuck around, the more it grew. I felt bad because she was Seraphina and Cyclone’s mother. They wanted her there, but my mother was there because of me, and so a whole layer of guilt coated over me, weighing me down.

  I brought my computer out to a lounge chair behind Kash’s villa. I was on the chair, my laptop between my legs, and I could still hear their laughter from the pool area.

  And because I couldn’t help myself, I was doing my usual digging around for any information I could find on Calhoun Bastian. If Kash was going to take him on, which everyone felt was coming, I wanted to give him as much ammunition as possible.

  “He knows, you know.”

  Oh, snap.

  I straightened upright in my seat, and I looked around to Kash’s patio door, which was open. Peter Francis was standing there, his hands in his pockets, his button-down shirt untucked from his pants, and his hair rumpled. He looked like he’d had a hard day at the office. His tie was gone, and he had the five o’clock shadow working on his jaw.

  I could tell. A long-lost daughter just could.

  A shiver went down my spine, one of those again, and I knew.

  This was the talk. The talk.

  Or I was assuming, since the first time we’d been alone had nothing to do with personal stuff between father and daughter.

  I was ready. I was more than ready. This should have been done long before now.

  Then he said, “You’re not helping Kash.”

  He got me with that? He wasn’t fighting fair.

  “What do you mean?”

  Head down. Voice hoarse. I could do this. I could handle him. Just been years in the making, right?