Kaga crosses his arms and stares out the viewing glass. “Rich is intensely jealous of Ian. Believes that Ian is standing in his place in the sun. Whatever Ian has, Rich wants,” he explains. “Ian needs only to show you some attention and Rich will be right over to see if he can peel you away.”
“I don’t get how Rich could possibly lure someone away from Ian,” I grumble.
At this, Kaga shouts out a laugh and drops his arms to his side. “Loyal. I like that. Or deluded.” Sobering, he replies, “Ian wasn’t always this well-situated and Rich comes from an old Dutch family whose roots can be traced back to the Knickerbockers. For some, that’s worth more than all the money in the world.”
“But can’t Ian just ruin him financially? He said that Howe was spending money faster than the Treasury can print it.”
“If Ian ruins Richard financially, all the Howes suffer. Papa Howe believes the mayoral position will right the sinking ship. They’ve poured millions into the campaign and convinced all their wealthy society friends to contribute as well. If Papa Howe doesn’t win, the Howes will have to leave the city. They’ll be disgraced, and it would be easy for Ian to tip that ship over and have it sink like the Titanic.”
“But?” There’s more to this; something Ian doesn’t want to share but Kaga feels compelled to reveal.
He smiles in approval. “But when a ship goes down, a lot of innocents are harmed, and Ian feels strongly only Howe should suffer. Publicizing his indiscretions will humiliate Cecilia, but she’ll divorce him. Once Howe is isolated, Ian can bring all the influence he has to crush Howe. But not until all those bystanders are safe from harm.
In New York society, you can exist if you have either status or money. Lose one and you can still belong. If Howe is ruined financially, it would affect his entire family. They are teetering on the brink of financial insolvency. But if Richard Howe becomes a liability, his family will cut ties with him and he’ll be left without status or money.”
Not yet, Ian had said in the car ride over. He isn’t prepared to take out the bystanders. I could respect that in a weird way.
“Why me? Why not the other women that Malcolm sent?”
“They were too hard. Ian would never have dated them. He’s always had much quieter tastes. Richard would have known right away something was up. But you?” Kaga looks me over. “You’re exactly what Ian’s always wanted.”
I flush profusely at this.
“Ian needs you, and I can tell that asking you to do this for him has been an enormous struggle.”
He needs me.
This thing with Howe isn’t a job; it’s a gift. He’s bought me clothes, upgraded my apartment, and provided for my mother. Not because of any job but because he genuinely cared. And I can do this for him even if he doesn’t want me to.
Straightening my shoulders, I turn to Kaga. “So what do I do?”
With admiration in his eyes, Kaga replies, “Go over to the VIP lounge and have a drink. Rich will inevitably approach as soon as Ian leaves you alone for a moment. Play it by ear from there.”
“How do I act?”
“Be yourself.”
IAN IS STANDING BY THE back door of the club where we first entered.
“He talked you into it?”
I nod.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he warns.
“Like what?”
Turning away, he curses. “I’ve tried to keep the two of you separate in my head. At first, I turned you down because I wanted to sleep with you. Then I convinced myself that I could sleep with you and have you ensnare Howe. Compartmentalize, I told myself.” He shoves an agitated hand through his hair. “Now my Tiny boxes are scattered in every corner of my head. I think of you non-stop. When I get up in the morning, I wonder if you’ll like the smell of the soap I used. When lunch rolls around, I wonder if you’ve eaten enough. By mid-afternoon, I’m so hungry for your body I have to go to the bathroom and stroke myself until I’m spent—only to find that I’m hard thirty minutes later when I think of your pink pu**y convulsing under my tongue. But I wanted to delay making love to you until I was completely sure you were with me—mind, body and soul—because yes, Tiny, you are mine. And this isn’t for show.”
He pushes away from the door and climbs up the stairs. I haven’t moved. I can’t. His words have rendered me motionless. With each step, he’s coming closer to me, until he’s so close I feel like I could count the white dots in his ice-blue tie. His eyes search mine, and in them I see not only lust but tenderness.
His mouth fastens over mine, punctuating his words or perhaps sealing them inside me. Does he know that he makes my heart sing? That the tender look in his eyes completely slays me? His right hand digs into my hair as he uses his left to lift me against him. The hard length of his erection is impossible to miss. I wish I could see him in his office stroking himself. That would be so amazing that I’d probably come from just the show.
His tongue rubs slowly along the side of mine, inviting me to play. Whatever lipstick I once wore is being sucked and licked and bitten off. His kiss is ravenous, and I feel like he’s trying to devour me. Worse, I want him to. I open my mouth as wide as possible to swallow down all the sweetness and passion he’s serving me.
Beneath my questing hands, his body feels like iron. I want to rip off his clothes and impale myself on him right here on the landing. With a last reserve of sense, I pull away from him and rest my head in the hollow of his throat. I hear his rasping breath above me, and underneath my cheek his chest heaves up and down as he tries to gather his own self-control. I allow him to soothe my trembling body with his big hands when I realize the long, sweeping caresses are just as much for his sake as they are for mine.
“Jesus, Tiny,” he groans, dropping his forehead. After a minute he clears his throat and tips my chin up so I can see him. His eyes glitter in the darkness, lit from within. “I’ll find someone else to do the job. Clear the table so there’s just you and me.”
Someone else? He’d have to feign interest in her, bring her out to nightclubs and events. The idea of someone else doing this . . . project with Ian makes me violently jealous. Like, I’d punch her if I saw her with him. “No,” I say forcefully. “You hired me.” I straighten up and push him away. “I’m your girl.”
I am halfway down the second set of stairs when what I said sinks in.