Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
To protect her. To protect a lot of people.
Chapter fifteen
Despite Alana’s objections, I arrange a private car for her personal use starting with her ride to work this morning. “That’s not necessary,” she argues, her nipples puckering beneath the silk of her robe, her long, wet hair draping her delicate shoulders.
“It is necessary. You’re a star now. There will undoubtedly be a few out-of-control fans which requires proper precautions to ensure your safety,” I tighten the strings on her robe to close the gap before we both end up naked again. “I’ll see you soon and talk to you sooner.”
She pushes to her toes and wraps her arms around my neck, a smile on her sexy little mouth. “I like this new reality where the words ‘I see you soon’ means hours not years.”
My hand slides up over her back, molding her close, the warmth of her body seeping through my palms. “Me too, baby,” I say, my voice softening with the words. “Me too. It’s long past due.” I catch a strand of her hair in my fingers. “And I like how wet you are all the time.”
She laughs. “The wrong kind of wet.”
“I’ll fix that later,” I promise, kissing her firmly on the mouth. “I’ll update you later. I’ll lock up as I leave.” I set her away from me and exit the bathroom, but I can feel her eyes on me as I cross the living room. At the door, I turn back and wink at her before I exit to the hallway, pausing for just a moment to savor how damn good it feels to have Alana in my life. And how right it feels to have her in my apartment, and my personal space. It’s as if every other woman was a visitor and she’s come home.
To me.
Where she always belonged.
Five minutes later, I’m in the rear of a hired SUV, where I arrange the car service for Alana and text her the details. My driver is headed toward Alexander’s office, Alexander being a close friend and my attorney. He’s also the attorney who created that binding agreement the stockholders signed, and he’s apparently being bombarded with calls over it this morning. I myself have had four calls from board members, and per Alexander’s guidance, I’ve declined them all when I’d prefer to answer and tell them to fuck off. The agreements are signed. Unlike my father, I don’t play games. If they back out of their contractual obligation, I’ll sue them. They now have to decide if they prefer that public and financial disgrace to whatever my father has promised to bring upon them. If they’re all stupid enough to sign on with me when they’re indebted to him, effectively splitting their loyalties, then they’re the wrong people for the board anyway, and losing them will be a win.
I’m solid. I’ve covered my ass. They won’t talk me into letting them out of the agreement.
If Alexander prefers to deliver the pain, I’ll give him that gift.
The one text that has my attention is my father’s “fixer,” Caleb, which reads short and simple: Call me.
I don’t know if it’s the ex-CIA agent in him that makes him a man of few words or if he was just born that way, but it’s the only way to work for my father, which he still does, way too often. But Caleb is loyal to only a paycheck, and maybe me. Maybe. He’s the reason I knew Alana’s father had foolishly set his sights on my father and was about to end up dead. But I’ve also told him to back off and get out before I destroy my father, and him with him, but I’m not sure a man who loves money as much as Caleb does can help but play both sides of a large bill.
Either way, my priorities are in order. Caleb has to wait. My first phone call is to my assistant Naomi, who used to be my mother’s assistant, which makes her loyal to me and disloyal to my father, which is exactly how I like it. “Damion,” she greets. “How did your meeting go last night?”
“My father showed up.”
“Oh crap. How bad?”
Crap is her version of fuck, and she doesn’t approve of my version, which is just plain fuck. “Pain in the ass bad, but—”
“You expected him.”
“I expected something.” I shift the topic to the point of the call. “I need to arrange a mover to pick up Alana’s things as soon as she’s done filming her season. They can pack for her, too.”
“Forgive me if I don’t understand the words coming out of your mouth. Alana, as in the TV star you grew up with and your mother always believed you were in love with.”
“Yes. Her.”
“Does your mother know?”
“She will when we hang up and you call her.”