The Alpha Billionaire Club Trilogy (31 page)

H
e didn’t rise
when we entered, but held out a hand in welcome waving us toward his end of the table where two places had been set, one on either side of him. Though I didn’t want to separate from Sam, it didn’t seem wise to make a fuss. Squeezing his hand, I pulled my arm free and walked down the opposite side of the table to our host. When I reached Tsepov, I held out my hand.

I expected him to shake it. Instead he brought it to his lips and kissed the backs of my fingers. I fought the urge to shudder. He wasn’t unattractive. Actually, he was far more attractive than I’d expected. I couldn’t tell since he hadn’t stood, but he looked tall. Maybe Sam’s height. Leaner than Sam, his shoulders not quite as broad, with an elegant build that matched the perfect bone structure of his face. He was older, maybe Daniel’s age, and he wore it well, the white at his temples contrasting with his thick dark hair, giving him a dashing look. Despite all of that, even if I hadn’t known who he was, I would have shied away.

He wore menace like a cloak over his well tailored suit. Nothing like Axel, who I’d always thought a little scary. With Axel there was a certainty, underneath it all, that he was a good man. You might not always like what he did, but he wore his ethics like a suit of armor. Sergey Tsepov was nothing like that. Beneath his charm he was ice cold. This was a man who would do what he had to, or what he wanted to, no matter the cost. This was not a man I wanted to cross.

“Please, sit,” he said, indicating our places with a dictator’s benevolence. “Thank you for coming at such short notice.”

I sat. Sam took his seat across from me, his eyes on mine both cautioning and concerned. I didn’t need the warning to be careful. I was done with being reckless. And even if I got another wild hair, I wouldn’t be doing anything stupid in front of Tsepov. At least, not if I could help it. I sensed Tsepov was waiting for me to speak, but since I had no idea what to say, I kept my mouth shut. After waiting a beat, he stepped into the silence.

“So you are Chloe Henson.” I nodded, though it seemed unnecessary. His eyes crawled over me, polite and assessing. Beneath the surface something predatory lurked, cataloging every weakness to use to his advantage. “Your brother spoke of you. He had much to say, mostly complaints, but it is clear he loves you. It is always the way of the young to complain, is it not? We do our best for them and they see only restriction and limits. So rarely do they appreciate how they need these limits.”

Again, I nodded. It hurt to hear that Nolan had complained about me, but I wasn’t surprised. I wondered if Tsepov had a child of his own who complained about his parental concern. Oddly I felt a moment of kinship with him. I knew Nolan loved me. And I also knew I drove him nuts with my mothering. Though, if he hated it that much, he was always welcome to save up some money and get his own place. Since he’d never bothered to move out, he couldn’t find me as burdensome as he said he did.

“What can we do for you?” Sam asked, his tone firm but respectful. Tsepov moved his attention from me and I relaxed a little.

“You are Ms. Henson’s employer? Sam Logan, owner and CEO of Desert Vistas Development. I believe we almost did business together at one time.”

“Yes,” Sam said. “Chloe works for me. We also have a personal relationship.”

“Which explains much about your interest in her brother’s troubles,” Tsepov said.

“We haven’t been able to find out much about Nolan,” I said, the tension between Sam and Tsepov making me nervous.

“Then we share a problem. Tell me what you know,” Tsepov said, his words a polite demand, but a demand none the less. I looked at Sam and he sent me a tiny nod.

“We heard that he lost money at poker and is in debt to you. That he’s been working for you, using his skills on the computer. And that you asked him to do a job, he disappeared, and the last person who saw him is dead.”

“Then sadly, you know only a little less than I do myself.”

Tsepov looked up as two waiters entered the room carrying covered plates. A third followed behind, holding a tray with delicate cups and saucers, along with a sterling silver coffee pot. Conversation halted as they served us. If I’d had any appetite I would have been thrilled by the meal before me. Eggs Benedict, covered in rich, lemony hollandaise, thick cut bacon, and a precise circle of crispy home fries.

“Eat,” Tsepov ordered with a wave of his hand. I added cream and sugar to my coffee and drank before lifting my fork and stabbing a piece of potato.

“You have Axel Sinclair looking for Nolan,” Tsepov stated flatly. Sam nodded. “I do not like Axel Sinclair nosing around my business. Call him off.”

“Our only concern is locating Chloe’s brother,” Sam said, his eyes hard. “We have no interest in your business.”

“Nolan is my business.” Tsepov sliced into his eggs with a quick slash of his knife. The golden yolk running across his plate should have been appetizing, but his aggression turned my stomach. The ice beneath his friendly demeanor made it too easy to imagine him slicing into a human as casually as he cut into his eggs.

“Surely you can see how he is also Chloe’s business,” Sam said and took a bite of his eggs. Tsepov turned his attention back to me.

“I appreciate loyalty. Your care for your brother is commendable. If he has remained loyal to me, he will be taken care of and those who have troubled him will be punished.”

“And if he’s made a mistake?” I asked, a tremor in my voice. Tsepov’s gaze turned to cold steel.

“There is no room for mistakes. And no second chances.” He ate with single-minded attention for several minutes. The conversation clearly at a halt, Sam and I did the same. When Tsepov put down his silverware and picked up his coffee, he resumed speaking as if there had been no break. “Has Sinclair determined the nature of Nolan’s last job?”

“None of the specifics,” Sam said shaking his head. “Only enough to know that the rumor is Nolan succeeded in acquiring the information that you wanted, but that he has not delivered it. To anyone.”

“And have you heard any talk about his intentions?” Tsepov asked in a silkily dangerous tone.

“Some. The consensus seems to be that he is loyal,” Sam said, “or not stupid enough to betray you. We haven’t been able to find anyone who can confirm that he’s made an offer to deliver the information to anyone else. Our best guess is that he is hiding out and for some reason is unable to get to you.”

Tsepov looked to the door which remained closed, his eyes shuttered, impossible to read. “You are implying I have a weakness in my organization,” he said, finally.

“I’m only telling you what we’ve heard. As you know, there are two options. Nolan has decided to betray you and is looking for another buyer. Or Nolan’s loyal but unable to complete his assignment.”

“And what do you think?” Tsepov asked, pinning me with his stare. I tensed under his focused gaze.

“I think that there’s a lot about my brother I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I don’t believe he’s betrayed you.”

“Sentiment?” Tsepov asked, shaking his head, already dismissing my answer.

“No,” I said. “Logic. There are a lot of people looking for Nolan. If he was attempting to broker some kind of deal, word would’ve gotten out. Instead there’s only speculation and more questions. That makes me think he’s keeping his head down until whatever has him scared goes away. Nolan’s always been like that. He doesn’t like confrontation. If things get difficult, he runs away.”

Tsepov looked away again, seemingly lost in thought. I wasn’t foolish enough to comment that all signs pointed to someone in his own organization as the problem. Only someone close to Tsepov would be able to intercept Nolan and his attempts to get the information to his boss. Tsepov was smart enough to have figured that out, and I wasn’t going to be the one to throw it in his face.

“I will allow you to continue to use Sinclair’s services in pursuit of Nolan, out of respect for Ms. Henson’s familial responsibility. If that interference causes me trouble in the future, I will hold you both responsible. Is that understood?” Tsepov asked, folding his hands on the table before him.

“It is,” Sam said.

“I suggest,” Tsepov went on, “That Mr. Sinclair find Nolan before I do. And if Nolan has made any regrettable decisions, you change his mind.”

“We will,” Sam said.

At this, Tsepov’s eyes landed on me one last time. “Ms. Henson, a piece of advice. A woman such as yourself must be careful. You have been exposed to men who will not take care with you. Do you understand?” I nodded, my throat dry. “Mr. Logan has taken responsibility for you. Allow him to do this. Allow him to keep you out of trouble. Until this regrettable situation, Nolan was a valued employee. My hope is that once he is located he will continue to be my valued employee. It is out of regard for that relationship that I tell you this; Let your man look for your brother. Until Nolan is back in my fold, I cannot extend myself to protect you. Don’t make it necessary for me to wish that I had.”

I nodded again, not quite sure exactly what he’d meant, but scared all the same. Sam pushed back his chair and rose. I did the same.

“Thank you for making the time to see us,” Sam said. Tsepov nodded his head and said,

“Find him before I do, Mr. Logan.”

M
y knees were shaking
as we left the restaurant, my heart pounding so hard the sound filled my ears. Although Tsepov hadn’t been anything but gracious, I had the feeling that we had just escaped a deadly threat.

We got in the truck and buckled in. Sam didn’t speak, just put the car in gear and then took my hand in his. I wondered if he was as rattled as I was. Based on the hard set of his jaw, and the tight clasp of his hand, I thought he might be.

“When we find your brother,” Sam said through gritted teeth, “I’m going to kill him.”

“Sam!” I said in protest.

“Do you think I’m kidding?” Sam looked at me his eyes blazing with anger and something else that could have been fear. “We just a breakfast with a Russian mob boss who told you to let me keep you out of trouble because you were attracting the wrong attention. And the only reason we were there at all, or that any dangerous attention is on you, is because of your brother. Did you miss the part where Tsepov said that Nolan would continue to work for him?”

I hadn’t missed that. And I was guessing you didn’t just quit your job when you worked for someone like Sergey Tsepov.

“I know this is all Nolan’s fault. I’m not defending him. But I can’t turn my back on my brother. He’s my only family.”

“He’s going to get you killed.”

“I hope not,” I said, trying for a joke. The murderous look Sam gave me said I hadn’t been funny. “Sorry,” I said. “But can we argue about what to do with Nolan
after
we find him?”

“Why not?” Sam asked his tone inappropriately amused. “If we don’t find him, or the wrong people find him first, they’ll kill him and save me the trouble.”

Maybe I should’ve yelled at Sam for being so flippant about Nolan’s chances. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. He was right. Ending up with the terrifying man we’d just left was looking like Nolan’s best case scenario. I wasn’t sure what to do about that. I suspected there was nothing I
could
do about it.

To save my sanity, I decided to focus on work. I hadn’t been in the office at all the day before, and my desk would likely be a disaster. I was right, it was. One of my most essential functions at Desert Vistas Development was to form a wall between Sam and everyone else. Without me as a go-between, people would be in and out of his office all the time and he wouldn’t get anything done. Part of it was his own fault for being so hands on with the company, but he’d built it from a single trailer on a tiny project into the thriving business it was today. While he’d learned to delegate, he couldn’t help paying attention to all the small details.

Everyone ignored my inbox. They piled notes, files, all sorts of things on my desk, asking me to put them in front of Sam. After I made us coffee, I began to sort through the mess. I hadn’t been at it more than a few minutes when my speakerphone beeped and I heard Sam’s voice say, “Chloe? Would you come in here for a minute please?”

I got up and went into his office, bringing in notepad and a pen with me. I’d barely cleared the door, when his hand closed over my wrist and he yanked me through, shutting and locking it behind me. I looked up at him in surprise, opening my mouth to protest. I didn’t get very far.

Before I could think of what to say, he was kissing me, his arms holding me tight his tongue stroking mine in fierce possession. By the time he let me go, my knees were weak, and I sagged against him.

“Sam,” I whispered into his shirt. “We can’t do this at the office.” He nuzzled the top of my head with his chin.

“I know. I know,” he said. “Just this once. Maybe twice.”

I pulled back and swatted his chest. “Sam, I’m serious. I love you, but I don’t want to get a reputation as the secretary who’s sleeping with the boss. Okay?”

“Okay. Really, okay. I get it, and I don’t want anyone to think that about you, either. At least not the way you mean. I’ll learn to control myself, somehow.”

I straightened my jacket and brushed my hands over my hips smoothing the skirt. The suit was beautifully tailored and looked great on me, but it made me look like an elegant and stylish librarian. Not someone who would inspire sudden fits of passion in the office. It gave me a thrill to know I’d done that anyway, just by being me. Trying to focus on the business at hand, I picked up the notebook and pen from where I’d dropped them on the floor and said, “Did you need me for any actual work?”

“Yes, I did.”

Pointedly, I opened the office door and left it that way before I took a seat on the other side of Sam’s desk and waited, my pen poised over the notebook. It was almost an hour before I left his office with another huge to-do list on top of the one I had from earlier in the week, none of which could be addressed until I dealt with the mess still covering my desk. This was why I never took vacations.

Normally, I was the one who reminded Sam about lunch, but I was neck deep in work and after our late breakfast, lunch slipped my mind. Sam called me at my desk and asked me to put in an order for something. I called out for delivery, already knowing what he’d want. I worked for a little longer, my desk finally organized once more and almost three quarters of the way through my original to do list. I looked up from my work at the sound of feet on the hardwood floor, expecting to see our lunch delivery.

Instead, it was Jack from our legal department. He held a thick copy of what looked like the set of contracts we’d reviewed earlier in the week. Glancing between me and the closed door to Sam’s office he said, “Is he in a meeting? Or do you think I could stick my head in for a minute?”

“I think it’s probably fine, Jack. He’s just about to break for lunch anyway,” I said smiling up at him. Looking at the contracts in his hand I asked, “Do you need copies of those to leave with him?”

Jack held them out to me. “Do you mind? The copier down in legal is jammed, and I didn’t want to wait.”

I shook my head, saying, “No problem.” Taking the contracts from Jack, I crossed the room to put them on the copier, hitting the buttons to make a second set. “You can go on in, Jack. I’ll bring these in a second.”

I expected Jack to let himself into Sam’s office, but instead he stood there, watching me at the copier. Looking back over my shoulder as the copier shuffled and flashed, I caught Jack’s eye and raised my eyebrows. He cleared his throat and took a step closer, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I’ll wait,” he said, clearing his throat again. Then, after a minute of awkward silence, he said, “You look different, Chloe. I mean, you look good.”

“Thanks, Jack,” I said, a little confused. I thought I looked nice in my new clothes, but it wasn’t like Jack to say anything.

“Would you go out to dinner with me?” He straightened his shoulders and met my eyes when I turned to look at him. I opened my mouth to answer, then snapped it shut at the sight of Sam standing in the open doorway, his blue eyes narrowed tightly on Jack.

“No,” Sam said, clearly aggravated. “She would not like to have dinner with you. She’s having dinner with me. Tonight. And every other night.”

I glared at Sam. That was not subtle. And that was definitely not keeping our relationship quiet. I ground my teeth, taking the finished copies and handing them to Jack with an apologetic look. Anything I said at this point would only make it worse, so I kept my mouth shut as Sam said to Jack,

“In my office.”

The door shut behind them and I sighed, sitting down and resting my forehead on my desk. When had my life gotten so complicated?