An Inconvenient Affair (The Alpha Brotherhood #1)(23)
Author: Catherine Mann

“What do you mean?”

“Trying to scare me off by saying startling things.”

His eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer predatorily. “Does that mean you want to try and make a baby?”

She cradled his face in her hands, calling his bluff and standing him down, toe to toe. “You’re totally outrageous.”

“And you’re outrageously hot.” He rocked his hips against hers. “So let’s have lots of very well-protected sex together.”

She brushed her thumb over his mouth even though the gesture cost her. Big-time. Her body was on fire. “Abstinence is the best protection of all.”

“Killjoy.” He nipped the sensitive pad of her thumb before stepping back. “I’ll go downstairs and leave you to your rest then. Order anything you want from room service. Everything you’ll need is in your room. Enjoy a bubble bath. God knows, I’ll be enjoying thinking of you in one.”

He scooped up the bottle of Chivas on his way out of the suite.

Great. She’d won. And never had she felt more completely awake in her life.

* * *

He sure as hell wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight, not with Hillary sleeping nearby.

Without question, he intended to make love to her. But not tonight. He had business to take care of, ensuring he covered their trail and that she was safely tucked away. Then, he would be free to seduce every beautiful inch of her taste by taste, touch by touch, without worry that some criminal would come looking for her.

First, he needed to find Conrad Hughes.

Luckily, the leather pouch included a key card to Conrad’s private quarters. At last count, Conrad owned seven, but the one in his casino was his favorite and his primary residence since he’d split with his wife.

The second the elevator doors parted, Conrad was there, waiting. Of course he’d seen Troy coming. Nothing happened in this place without the owner knowing.

“Hello, brother.” Conrad waved him inside, brandy snifter in hand. “Welcome to my little slice of heaven.”

Conrad Hughes, Mr. Wall Street, and Troy’s first friend at the military reform school, led him into the ultimate man cave, full of massive leather furniture and a gigantic television screen hidden behind an oil painting. There was a sense of high-end style like the rest of the place, but without the feminine frills.

Apparently, Conrad had stripped those away when he and his wife separated.

Troy held up the Chivas. “I brought refreshments.”

“But you didn’t bring your lady friend. I’m disappointed not to meet her.”

“She’s changing after our trip.” Images of her in the spa tub were a helluva lot more intoxicating than anything in the top-shelf bottle he carried. “I figured this would be a good chance to speak with you on my own. Check in, catch up and whatnot.”

They had a long history together—two of the three founding members of The Alpha Brotherhood.

Conrad had been a step away from juvie when they’d met in reform school. His crime? Manipulating the stock market, crashing businesses with strategic infusions of cash in competing companies, manipulating the rise and fall of share prices. He would have been hung out to dry by the court and the press, except someone stumbled on the fact that every targeted company had been guilty of using child laborers in sweatshops overseas.

Once the press got hold of that part of his case, he’d been lauded as a white knight. The judge had offered a deal similar to Troy’s. Through the colonel’s mentorship, they’d learned to channel their passionate beliefs about right and wrong. Now they had the chance to right wrongs within the parameters of the law.

Their friendship had lasted seventeen years. Troy trusted this man without question. And now was one of those times he would have to call upon his help.

His wiry, lanky buddy had turned into someone who looked more like a pro athlete these days than a pencil-pushing businessman. The women had always gone wild over Conrad’s broody act—but he’d only ever fallen for one woman.

Conrad had gone darker these days, edging closer to the sarcastic bastard he’d been in the old days. A sarcastic bastard with dark circles under his eyes and a dining tray full of half-eaten food. His friend looked like he’d been to hell and back very recently.

Troy sprawled in a massive leather wingback chair across from Conrad. “I need to tuck Hillary away for a week or so, but I don’t want anyone looking for us.”

“Is this Salvatore-related or just a need for personal time with a lady friend?”

Conrad was one of the few people on the earth he could be completely honest with. “Started as the first, became both.”

“Fine, I can handle things from this end.”

Troy trusted Conrad to do what was asked, but he wasn’t quite as clear on Conrad’s methods, and these days, Troy was more careful about life. Right now more than ever, he couldn’t afford to let his impulsive nature take over. Control was paramount.

“Want to share how you intend to do that?”

“Because you’re worried I can’t handle it? I’m hurt, brother, truly wounded.” Conrad drained his drink and poured another.

“Because I want to learn from the master.”

“Nice salve to my ego.” He smirked. “But I get it. A woman’s involved. You can’t just leave it all to trust. I can cover for you.”

He thumbed on the wide-screen TV and a video of Hillary with Troy at the slot machine played. “I assume this little snippet here was a public display for gossipmongers and the press or you would have used my secure, private entrance.”

“Of course it was.” He and Conrad had secret access to each other’s homes around the world at any time. Yes, he had wanted people to see him with Hillary here, and he should have realized Conrad would have already intuited his plan. “Kudos to your security people for capturing my good side.”

“My casino staff aims to please.” Conrad cleared the screen. “I’ll loop some reels on the security tapes of you, play with the technology so it looks like you’re wearing different clothes on different days. My secretary will submit some photos to society pages. The world will think you’re here kicking up your heels like a carefree playboy with his next conquest.”

“Thanks.” He stifled a wince at the word conquest. Somehow Hillary had become…more. “I appreciate your help.”

“Your plane trip here will cement the story. It would help if you forwarded me some photos from the different airports.”