Phoenix Even though she’s expecting me, I rap my knuckles on Michaela’s door. She opens it. She looks as fresh as a bouquet. She’s only wearing a touch of makeup, and the large diamond stud earrings I gave her yesterday lighten up her angelic face. “Good morning,” I say. “Good morning.” She lets me in. I close the door behind me. I turn to face her and take her in. “You look absolutely beautiful.” Her sexy body is adorned in a long floral dress with bold printed bright pink flowers against a white background. The spaghetti straps and seductive V neckline accentuates her slender neck and showcases the swell of her luscious tits. Damn. Since she’s not as tall as she was yesterday, I can only assume her heels aren’t skyscrapers. “Thank you. It’s one of the new dresses I bought thanks to your generosity,” she says. “Stop saying that. It’s my pleasure. I benefit from everything you wear as much as you do.” She laughs a little. “You’re so cocky.” I stroke my clean-shaven chin. “We haven’t known each other long, but I’m pretty sure you figured that out when we first met.” She rolls her eyes. “Speaking of which, we’ve known each other for a week. It hit me as I was walking to your room.” “Talk about a whirlwind week,” she says. “From strangers to newlyweds in less than seven days.” “Unbelievable.” “Did you get a good night’s sle ep?” “I did. Hands-down, that is the most comfortable bed ever.” She points to the king-size bed. “It was like sle eping on a cloud.” After what we shared yesterday, not sle eping in the same bed seems ridiculous, but there are enough moving parts to our fake story. Wilder may be in the know about the changes in our arrangement, but Slate and Dad aren’t. “You can’t take the hotelier out of Dad. He doesn’t kid around when it comes
to a good night’s sle ep. All the mattresses in the mansion are the same custom-design signature beds we have at the Pompadour. Guests love them so much, they’re always begging to buy them. It took us a while to make the decision, but in the end, we caved in. For the last two years, we’ve been selling them on our website. You wouldn’t believe how many orders we get each and every week. So much so, we had to hire staff to man a dedicated d epartment.” “You’re kidding?” “I’m not.” “Incredible,” she says. “I guess I don’t have to ask how you sl ept.” “I didn’t have a good night’s sle ep, to be honest.” “How come?” I approach her. “I was forced to sle ep alone.” I lean in and drop a soft kiss on her lips. “I would’ve rather sl ept in the same bed as my wife.” Her cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink. “It would’ve made it a hell of a lot easier for my morning wood.” I grab her by the waist and pull her body against mine, pressing her against my erection. “Phoenix. Your father is somewhere in the house and the staff is buzzing about,” she says. “Not to mention, last night was pretty wild and intense.” She’s right. After a second raunchy round in the garage, st epping back into the mansion would’ve been mission impossible. Lucky for us, Wilder came to the rescue. I texted him to grab a couple plush terrycloth robes embroidered with our family crest from the home spa. The few guests who saw us walking back inside assumed we had gone for a swim. “I’ll behave,” I say. “Ready for breakfast?” “I’m starved.” “I could eat a restaurant out of business. I went for a swim early this morning.” Her eyes widen. “How could you get up to exercise when we went to bed at three o’clock in the morning?” The festivities lasted until the wee hours. “It was either that or jerk off to release the tension. Turns out, after a vigorous swim, I still had to take care of my cock in the shower. I blame not being able to fuck my wife first thing this morning for my predicament.” She brings her hands up and covers her face. “The things that come out of your mouth.” “You asked.” I grab her hands, forcing
them away from her face and bring them to my lips. I drop two soft kisses against them. She laughs. “In any case, on my way back to my room, I stopped by the kitchen for a bottle of water and a banana. The kitchen staff went overboard. Brace yourself for quite the feast.” “I’m looking forward to it.” “We’re gathering in the theater room—it’s a carbon copy of a VIP viewing room you’d expect to find on the executive floor of any notable Hollywood studio. Dad asked Louis to make sure the staff sets up breakfast in there—” “I still can believe your father has a long-time, trusted British majordomo who oversees everything, including managing the household staff.” “Dad would be lost without Louis.” She shakes her head. “You billionaires live large—” She frowns. “What?” “We’re watching a movie while having breakfast?” “No. The room is fully soundproof. Therefore, it ensures complete privacy.” She tilts her head to the side. “Why is that important?” “Dad wants to have a conversation.” “That sounds serious.” “He has a few concerns.” “About what?” “I’ll find out at the same time you do,” I say. “Wilder and Slate will join us. As much as Dad wants your father to join us, it might be tricky to explain to Uncle Ian why he’s not invited to breakfast.” “I thought we pulled it off.” “So did I.” “I’m sorry.” Remorse morphs her beautiful features. “Why are you apologizing?” “I didn’t live up to my end of the bargain. I let you down.” I bring my fingers to her unpainted lips and trace their contour. “You were amazing yesterday. Heck, you even had me fooled, and I was in on it.” “It wasn’t enough.” “Michaela, let’s not jump to conclusions. We’re going to go downstairs together, enjoy a delicious, hearty breakfast and hang out with my father and brothers. Once we know what’s at stake, we’ll face it together. We’re a team, remember?” “We’re a team.” I take her by the hand and lead her to the door. With our fingers interlaced, we trail down the stairs and stride towards the theater room, greeting staff and acc epting congratulations on the way. We’re the poster couple of wedded bliss. Almost. Slate arrives at the
same time we do, a smile tugging his mouth when he sees my wife. “Good morning, Michaela.” He kiss ES her on the cheek. “You look lovely, as usual.” “Thank you and good morning to you, Slate,” she says. “You look well rested,” he says. “I gather you approve of our mattresses.” “That’s putting it lightly. Did you sle ep well?” My brother’s smile slips. “Until six o’clock, yes.” “Oh.” Michaela frowns. “You couldn’t fall back asle ep after waking up?” Slate turns his attention to me, his gaze narrowed. Is that anger I read in his eyes? “What the hell was that about this morning in the pool? I was convinced you were trying to exorcize some kind of demon, or was that your way of purging all the alcohol from your system?” No, it was my attempt to curtail my overwhelming desire for my wife. “And did you have to play music that loud while you were at it?” Okay, the music might’ve been a bit too loud, but he doesn’t have to chew my ass off. “What? I don’t deserve a good morning?” My tone is sarcastic. “Not when you awake me before the fucking roosters,” Slate says. “You didn’t have to sle ep here last night.” I glower at him. “I specifically remember Dad’s invitation extended to my wife and me. You could’ve gone back to your place. Wilder did.” None of the guests stayed at my father’s mansion. He made arrangements at one of our many hotels for all the out-of-town guests. “What crawled up your fucking ass this morning?” The door to the theater room flies open. Dad st eps out. “Boys, you’re grown men.” His furious eyes bounce from me to Slate. “Stop acting like children.” My brother and I simmer down. “Come inside.” Dad gestures. We obey. Wilder is already here. After a round of good mornings, Dad invites us to grab some food. He doesn’t have to ask twice. The five of us make our way to a table weighed down with a scrumptious feast. With generous plates in hand, we all sit at a round table the staff placed in the room. Dad and I flank Michaela. “You two are trending,” Dad says. “I haven’t checked social media yet. After my swim, I jumped on a
conference call with my executive assistant. I had to give my approval on a few things relating to the Paris trip. Since Michaela and I leave tonight, time is of the essence.” He nods. “Did you catch any of the headlines, Michaela?” “No,” she says. “The media can be cruel when it comes to dissecting fashion, especially when it comes to a wedding. I’d rather ke ep my head in the sand for a little longer.” “You don’t have anything to worry about,” Dad says. “The media crowned you, reigning queen.” Michaela blushes. “Are you kidding me?” Dad chuckles. “The publicist texted me to let me know you’ve been voted Most Beautiful Bride of the Year by a number of influential publications.” Michaela’s green eyes widening. “I have?” “Yes.” Dad grabs his phone from the table, unlocks it, and hands it to her. ‘Michaela Knight, now Mrs. Michaela König, sets the standard for years to come when she said “I do” in a show-stopping, elegant white gown designed by Salvatore Venturoli. She wore it and the Swarovski crystal tiara like a queen, a nod to her aristocratic heritage.’ She reads the press coverage out loud. “Gosh, that’s a lot of pressure,” she says, lifting her eyes from the screen as she hands Dad the device. “Not really, since you already hold the title, sis,” Wilder says. We all laugh. “Why did you call this meeting, Dad? What’s up?” I cut to the chase. “Potter,” Dad says, placing his phone on the table. I arch a brow. “We all know he’s annoying as fuck, but what did he do now?” “I wasn’t kidding last night when I said he was a little too obsessed with Michaela––” “Understandably.” Wilder cuts in. “She’s gorgeous.” “That she is.” Dad nods. “I scored a hot wife.” I wink at her. “You guys are going to make me blush,” she says. “You already are, sweetheart,” Dad says. She offers a shy smile. “Back to Potter.” Dad veers the conversation. “At some point in the evening, Niels came up to me frazzled.” Michaela sits a little straighter in her chair. “What happened?” “Niels revealed some disturbing things.” “Like what?”
Dad’s eyes bounce around the table, meeting our gaze before speaking. “Potter cornered him and bombarded him with a million questions about the Villiers Grand. Potter had a keen interest in understanding Niels’s motive to sell the hotel to us instead of selling it to High Stone Holding.” My eyebrows shoot to my forehead and my fork freezes halfway to my mouth. “Get this,” Dad says, “Potter stated it would’ve been a more lucrative deal for Niels and for Michaela since High Stone Holding approached him, whereas Niels approached us.” There’s a deafening silence in the room. My brothers and I exchange a knowing look. Potter is plotting against us. That, I’m certain of. What does he have to gain from fucking us over? “Daddy never mentioned anything about being approached by another company,” Michaela says. I’m not surprised he’d ke ep quiet about that encounter. “Isn’t High Stone Holding owed by the Madigans?” “Yes.” Slate answers her question. “They’ve been part of the top three hotelier dynasties for several decades and they’ve been fighting dirty to outrank us from the number two spot for as long.” “And by dirty, Slate means by any means possible,” I say. “Ripley Madigan, the head of the family, is the kind of man who’s willing to prostitute anyone to get what he wants.” Bile rises in my throat at the memory of the six months Marie-Clémence played me for a fool. Michaela frowns. “Niels was surprised by the level of details Potter knew.” Dad ke eps talking. “Did the Madigans approach Daddy or was that Potter taking a wild guess?” “They did,” I say. “Several times and they were waving big money at him, but—” I purse my lips. “But what?” My eyes bounce from Slate’s, to Wilder’s, and to my father’s. “But what?” Michaela places a hand on my forearm. “Tell me.” I push my plate away, my appetite gone. “Tell her,” my father says. “She has a right to know. You’re married now, so she’s safe.” “Okay, this is scaring me,” Michaela says. “What’s going on?” I reach out and smooth the frown line between her eyebrows. My eyes bore into
hers for a prolonged beat. “Tell me, Phoenix.” “The marriage wasn’t optional for your father because he wanted to make sure you didn’t get screwed over. Additionally, in his eyes, the marriage protected your legacy against backlash from the scandal around Thana’s lover.” I pause. “When Ripley Madigan approached your father, he thought he had struck gold. It was the perfect timing, and he figured one of Ripley’s three twenty-something sons could be a decent candidate as a husband.” Another pause. “Those are his legitimate sons. Rumor has it, he has as many as a dozen illegitimate kids. “Ripley refused the option of you marrying one of his sons. He wanted to ke ep you all to himself—” “He’s old enough to be my grandfather.” The note of hysteria in Michaela’s voice is unmistakable. “Ripley is sixty-eight years old,” Dad says. “The difference of age is pr eposterous.” “The man ke eps busy,” I say. “He has four young girlfriends on the side, along with his wife of forty years.” Since the vermin blindsided me a few years ago, I paid astute investigators to dissect his life after the meeting with Niels. They couldn’t dig up all his skeletons—because an unscrupulous guy like Madigan has a boatload of them––but what they r eported back was enough to prevent any nasty surprises before acc epting my now-father-in-law’s proposal. “He has a penchant for selecting virgins, days after they come of age. It’s like he grooms them and stashes them somewhere with the clock ticking, counting down to their eighteenth birthday. He phases them out when they turn twenty-one––” “I’m twenty-three,” she says. “True.” And she’s not even a virgin. “According to your father, Ripley was willing to make an exc eption to his rule because you bring far more to the table than his dumb virgins do,” I say. “Ripley’s words, not mine.” Michaela blinks. “His wife doesn’t care?” “My guess is his wife is willing to turn a blind eye to maintain the lifestyle she’s accustomed to. And here’s the kicker, the girlfriends live together in a neighboring house, so it’s not like Mrs.
Madigan is oblivious to her husband’s cheating ways. There’s more. Ripley offers his girlfriends to business partners to seal deals.” Michaela turns as white as a ghost. “His girlfriends are always well taken care of when things go his way, so they’re okay with being prostituted,” I say. “It’s a win-win for everyone in volved.” She gasps. Anger bubbles inside me at the horror reflecting from her eyes. I hate seeing my little dragon this vulnerable. “Ripley is into sordid and demeaning sex.” I ke ep talking. “Your father refused to hand you over to a pervert. Ripley put pressure on him. Niels wouldn’t cave in. He wouldn’t budge from his position. Then, Ripley pulled out the big guns. He started blackmailing your father.” “What?” Michaela’s brows pinch together. “Ripley knew how desperate your father was. He also knew about Thana and her lover—I mean, he knew everything.” “Oh God.” She winces. “Your father couldn’t figure out how Ripley was able to get his hands on that kind of private information,” I say. “Panicked, he came to me. When he explained his situation, I filled him in on Ripley’s sexual deviances. I told him he was right to trust his instincts. He wanted to save you from a grim future with a bad man.” I grab her hands into mine. “He wanted you to marry someone who wouldn’t corrupt you, soil your soul, or take advantage of you. I gave him my word I’d do right by you.” Her eyes well and a tear rolls down her cheek. I wipe it away with my thumb. I cup her face with my hands, leaning close enough to kiss the tip of her nose. “You and me against the world, hellion.” She looks up at me and smiles between her tears. For a long beat, no one speaks. Dad clears his throat. “Going back to Potter.” He breaks the silence. “Most of the information surrounding the deal was never divulged to the board. The four of us made a quick decision on the Villiers Grand, informed Roman, and then presented the deal to them as a fait accompli.” They weren’t pleased and they had objections. A lot of them. It wasn’t a done deal for them. We expected as much. They shut the fuck up when we presented them with our
aggressive one-year expansion plan. “Not only was the purchase of your hotel hush-hush, it was done at lightning speed. So, it bears the question, how did Potter know so much?” “I knew there was a reason I didn’t trust that guy,” Michaela says. “You’re spot on,” Slate says. “He’s been on the board for a long time, but lately, you have to wonder if he’s still on our team.” “It seems his new purpose in life is to hamper our efforts every chance he has,” Wilder says. “It’s like he wants our demise.” My jaw clenches. “Mine, specifically.” Michaela tilts her head to the side. “Can’t you get rid of him?” “It’s not that simple,” Slate says. “That’s too bad,” Michaela says. “If he’s on the board, he should be a friend, not a foe.” I crack a wry smile. “You’d think.” Wilder frowns. “If no one at this table revealed anything to Potter—and I’m certain Roman would never betray us—does it mean we have a leak within the company?” “That’s the billion-dollar question, son,” Dad says. “What did my father tell Potter?” “He didn’t say much because he was afraid to jeopardize our deal,” Dad says. “He played it smart. I told Niels if Potter ever asks any other questions about your hotel, to refer him back to me personally. I’ll deal with him.” Wilder shakes his head. “Did you drill the asshole last night when you went to your office to open that bottle of whiskey?” My brothers cut their time with Potter short, choosing to return to the party instead of being trapped in Dad’s office with a man they loathe. I don’t blame them. “I didn’t,” Dad says. “Why not?” My father turns to Slate and cocks a warning eyebrow. “Don’t you want to know how the hell Potter got his hands on that information?” Undeterred, Slate soldiers on. “Son, you seem to forget who the hell you’re talking to.” Dad points a finger at him. “Watch your tone.” Slate shrinks in size. “Like the game of chess, in business, it’s about outplaying your opponent,” Dad says. “It’s the same in the game of poker. For now, I’m ke eping my cards close to my chest.” “What does that mean?” “Slate, I don’t know what Potter is up to yet—” “Nothing good.”
“I agree with Wilder,” I say. “Everything points to it,” Dad says. “Until I’m dialed in on what he has up his sleeve, it’s best he doesn’t know I’m—we’re—onto him. Understood?” We all nod our agreement. “Let’s all be careful around Potter,” my father says before turning his attention to my wife. “And you, Michaela, whatever you do, avoid him at all costs.” “Okay,” she says, the tremor in her voice audible.