“No, Parker.”
He looked quizzically in my direction. “No?”
“I asked to see them. Leave them with me. Let me look at them.” I cocked my head to the side and forced a grin. “I mean, even Stewart let me review my contract before I signed it. Surely, you’ll grant me the same privilege?”
“I would,” he began, “however, we’re dealing with a tight deadline.”
“Oh, I believe I had a tight deadline ten years ago, too. When do you need my answer?”
His brow furrowed as his hand ran through his fine, dark hair. From the light of the windows, I noticed the renegade gray strands. “Now, Victoria, I need it now. This can’t wait.”
I scooped up the folder and handed it to Travis. “I’m sorry, Parker. I believe that as a grieving widow I should be granted some leniency with deadlines. I’ll get back to you after the funeral.”
He gasped at my forwardness and assessed Travis, no doubt deciding if he could retrieve the folder. “Listen, you don’t understand—”
“Thank you, Mr. Craven.” Travis’ voice filled the office. “Mrs. Harrington has just given you her answer. She’ll get back to you after Mr. Harrington’s funeral.”
I pressed my lips together, the tips of which were only slightly turned upward. It took every ounce of my strength not to say, nod if you understand, motherfucker!
Parker took a step backward. “Victoria, I was Stewart’s lead counsel for a reason.” He tilted his head silently toward Travis. “My counsel to you is to be careful whom you believe. You owe it to Stewart and the world that he created for you to know all the facts. Don’t let emotion override good sense.”
Was that the same as saying I was more pussy than brains? I didn’t trust either one of these men. “Goodbye, Parker. At this moment, I don’t intend to let my emotion or good sense make any decisions. Right now, I’m going to concentrate on burying my dead husband.” I sat back down in Stewart’s chair. “Would you like Travis to show you out?”
The two men eyed one another. I was thankful for the marble flooring and ornate rugs. They could more easily be dry-cleaned after their little pissing contest was concluded.
With a slight nod, Parker finally turned and said, “No, thank you, I believe I know the way.”
“I CAN’T RISK being seen at some hotel,” I said into my phone, behind the protection of my closed bedroom door.
“Vik, I need you.” Compassion and desire oozed from Brody’s declaration. “You need me, too. Not just to sort out all this legal shit, but I want to hold you. Shit, Vik, you’ve been through so much. Don’t you just want to lean on someone?”
Did I? Had I ever truly had that?
“Brody, I don’t know what I want. I know I want to hear that the cremation is complete, and I want to get this damn funeral over. I know I need to know what’s in those papers that Parker wanted me to sign.”
“He really expected you to sign them and talk about it later?”
I nodded in the privacy of my suite. “He must think I’m pretty stupid.” They probably all did.
“Vik, I’ll come over there. We can go through the papers together.”
His reassuring confidence was exactly what I needed; however, with my emotions on a roller coaster, I wasn’t sure it was wise. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why? I was there last night. Why would anyone question my presence?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I smirked, letting my mind take a well-needed break from the stress of my reality. “Maybe when the moans and screams start coming from Stewart’s office we’ll raise suspicion?”
“Moans and screams? Fuck! I like the sound of it. Where are we doing it? In the motherfucker’s chair or on his desk?”
My insides tightened as I considered the possibilities. “I think the desk with the fucking blinds open to all of goddamned Miami. We could even spread Parker’s file and papers over the top. I like the idea of soaking the pages until the print is no longer legible. I mean, that would null and void anything in there, wouldn’t it?”
“Jesus fucking Christ! You’re killing me here! I want to help you and hold you, and you’re making me blow a fucking wad. I’m going to need to change slacks if you don’t stop.”
My cheeks rose into a welcome grin. “You know what you’re doing to me?” I ask.
“What? Tell me.”
“You’re making me smile. Despite all this shit and one fucking bombshell after another, you’re making me smile.”
“Is that all I’m doing?”
“No,” I reluctantly admitted. “No, that’s not all. I want to do what we just said. I want to have you take me all over this damn apartment, but right now I need to understand what Travis and Parker are trying to do, what Stewart was trying to do.”
“What Stewart was trying to do?” Brody repeated cynically.
I closed my eyes and listened.
“Well, let me help you. Let’s start with the fact that he was a controlling warped son-of-a-bitch, who had a damn fifteen-page contract that spelled out specific sex acts you would agree to perform. He let you sign that contract without informing you of what it truly entailed. Then, while he was at death’s door, he tried to pass that contract to Travis Daniels, a lowlife, two-bit racketeer who’s worked with him for the past fifteen years.”
He looked quizzically in my direction. “No?”
“I asked to see them. Leave them with me. Let me look at them.” I cocked my head to the side and forced a grin. “I mean, even Stewart let me review my contract before I signed it. Surely, you’ll grant me the same privilege?”
“I would,” he began, “however, we’re dealing with a tight deadline.”
“Oh, I believe I had a tight deadline ten years ago, too. When do you need my answer?”
His brow furrowed as his hand ran through his fine, dark hair. From the light of the windows, I noticed the renegade gray strands. “Now, Victoria, I need it now. This can’t wait.”
I scooped up the folder and handed it to Travis. “I’m sorry, Parker. I believe that as a grieving widow I should be granted some leniency with deadlines. I’ll get back to you after the funeral.”
He gasped at my forwardness and assessed Travis, no doubt deciding if he could retrieve the folder. “Listen, you don’t understand—”
“Thank you, Mr. Craven.” Travis’ voice filled the office. “Mrs. Harrington has just given you her answer. She’ll get back to you after Mr. Harrington’s funeral.”
I pressed my lips together, the tips of which were only slightly turned upward. It took every ounce of my strength not to say, nod if you understand, motherfucker!
Parker took a step backward. “Victoria, I was Stewart’s lead counsel for a reason.” He tilted his head silently toward Travis. “My counsel to you is to be careful whom you believe. You owe it to Stewart and the world that he created for you to know all the facts. Don’t let emotion override good sense.”
Was that the same as saying I was more pussy than brains? I didn’t trust either one of these men. “Goodbye, Parker. At this moment, I don’t intend to let my emotion or good sense make any decisions. Right now, I’m going to concentrate on burying my dead husband.” I sat back down in Stewart’s chair. “Would you like Travis to show you out?”
The two men eyed one another. I was thankful for the marble flooring and ornate rugs. They could more easily be dry-cleaned after their little pissing contest was concluded.
With a slight nod, Parker finally turned and said, “No, thank you, I believe I know the way.”
“I CAN’T RISK being seen at some hotel,” I said into my phone, behind the protection of my closed bedroom door.
“Vik, I need you.” Compassion and desire oozed from Brody’s declaration. “You need me, too. Not just to sort out all this legal shit, but I want to hold you. Shit, Vik, you’ve been through so much. Don’t you just want to lean on someone?”
Did I? Had I ever truly had that?
“Brody, I don’t know what I want. I know I want to hear that the cremation is complete, and I want to get this damn funeral over. I know I need to know what’s in those papers that Parker wanted me to sign.”
“He really expected you to sign them and talk about it later?”
I nodded in the privacy of my suite. “He must think I’m pretty stupid.” They probably all did.
“Vik, I’ll come over there. We can go through the papers together.”
His reassuring confidence was exactly what I needed; however, with my emotions on a roller coaster, I wasn’t sure it was wise. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why? I was there last night. Why would anyone question my presence?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I smirked, letting my mind take a well-needed break from the stress of my reality. “Maybe when the moans and screams start coming from Stewart’s office we’ll raise suspicion?”
“Moans and screams? Fuck! I like the sound of it. Where are we doing it? In the motherfucker’s chair or on his desk?”
My insides tightened as I considered the possibilities. “I think the desk with the fucking blinds open to all of goddamned Miami. We could even spread Parker’s file and papers over the top. I like the idea of soaking the pages until the print is no longer legible. I mean, that would null and void anything in there, wouldn’t it?”
“Jesus fucking Christ! You’re killing me here! I want to help you and hold you, and you’re making me blow a fucking wad. I’m going to need to change slacks if you don’t stop.”
My cheeks rose into a welcome grin. “You know what you’re doing to me?” I ask.
“What? Tell me.”
“You’re making me smile. Despite all this shit and one fucking bombshell after another, you’re making me smile.”
“Is that all I’m doing?”
“No,” I reluctantly admitted. “No, that’s not all. I want to do what we just said. I want to have you take me all over this damn apartment, but right now I need to understand what Travis and Parker are trying to do, what Stewart was trying to do.”
“What Stewart was trying to do?” Brody repeated cynically.
I closed my eyes and listened.
“Well, let me help you. Let’s start with the fact that he was a controlling warped son-of-a-bitch, who had a damn fifteen-page contract that spelled out specific sex acts you would agree to perform. He let you sign that contract without informing you of what it truly entailed. Then, while he was at death’s door, he tried to pass that contract to Travis Daniels, a lowlife, two-bit racketeer who’s worked with him for the past fifteen years.”
