Dirty Pleasures

Leaving her alone with Vale went against all my possessive instincts, but I’m finding that I trust her, which is a new development for me. My last marriage, as short as it was, left me with a healthy distrust of women.

I met Shaw when I purchased a chain of luxury resorts off the auction block. It was founded by her grandfather and then run into the ground by her father before she could take control. She was ambitious, driven, and totally and completely pissed that her family legacy was circling the drain.

I tried to fire her, but she refused to leave, saying she’d work for free if I would just let her stay. I caved, and not only a little because her passion for the business was contagious. Shaw was an amazing leader of people. Charismatic, and also absolutely gorgeous.

I opted to take a personal role in the turnaround, and one thing led to another. We were a great team when it came to business, and more than compatible everywhere else. It made sense, or at least it did when Shaw pitched the idea to me like the skilled businesswoman she was. We were married within six months to the day I met her, and in a moment of generosity, I agreed in the prenup that she could keep the resorts if things didn’t work out.

Three months after the wedding, I realized that the resorts were all she really wanted out of the deal. This was the first and only time I met someone who was a cagier negotiator than I was.

She was in love with someone else the entire time, and viewed me as the quickest and easiest way to reclaim her family legacy. The only thing that kept me from being crazy bitter about the way she coldly ended it was that righteous bitch, karma.

Shaw didn’t end up with everything she wanted, because she lost the guy she truly loved. Apparently he wasn’t the type to swallow the idea of his woman marrying another man. I couldn’t blame the guy, and Shaw has since retreated into her hardnosed businesswoman persona, and the fun, playful side I caught glimpses of never emerged again, as far as I know.

Shortly after the divorce, I discovered that the problem with giving a woman a chain of resorts as a divorce settlement was the growing number of women eager to be the next ex-Mrs. Creighton Karas. The line of them grew long and creative, and I didn’t trust a single one.

Marrying Holly was a great way to put a stop to the women desperate for my attention. I’m not proud that entered into my motivations, but I wasn’t going to apologize for anything that got me to this point with this woman.

“Boss?” Marcus prompts, dragging me back to the here and now. “Shit creek?”

“Honestly, I’m not entirely sure. I’m still figuring her out.”

A mix of a grunt and a chuckle comes from the other man in the car, Orrin Steel, a former SEAL who lost mobility in his left thumb and had to leave his team because of it. He opted to bow out of the Navy completely because he refused to ride a desk.

“You’ll be trying to figure her out for the rest of your goddamn life. Women are a mystery best left unsolved,” he adds.

Marcus erupts into laughter, and I’m still trying to decide if Holly’s going to be pissed. The unfamiliar feeling of anxiety creeps in when I recall how she left only a two-word note before she walked out of my New York penthouse.

“You’d better drive faster,” I say.

Holly climbs on the bus less than an hour after I return, but the initial feeling of relief I have at seeing her is wiped away when I take in the stooped set of her shoulders and pale face.

Flipping my laptop shut, I rise. “What’s wrong?”

She skirts around me and sinks into a chair.

“Just a long day,” she says, her tone defeated.

“Holly.” I only say her name, but it carries a wealth of meaning. I know she’s full of shit, and she knows I know she’s full of shit.

“How do you feel about having a meet-the-parents day?”

Her question catches me off guard, especially because her shot at meeting my parents died the day my mother and father were killed in an attack on the African village where they moved us for their missionary work. It was a story I worked incredibly hard to keep out of the media to this day.

“Excuse me?” I ask.

Her eyes flick up at me from beneath dark lashes, and she says, “My mother may be coming to visit.”

From what she’s said about her mother, this new development shocks the shit out of me.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but only because I couldn’t think fast enough to figure a way out of it.”

“Well, that’s honest.”

“It was the call from jail that threw me off my game.”

“Excuse me?” I repeat.

“If you weren’t sure before that you married white trash, you can rest assured that now you won’t have any doubt. My mama was arrested for breaking and entering into my gran’s house back home. Apparently the sheriff didn’t have my number, so when I called the police station, they filled me in.”

Holly’s voice is weary, and she won’t meet my eyes. “They wouldn’t have even arrested her, but my mama broke up the sheriff’s marriage before she left town by crowing about sleeping with him one night when she was drunk. His wife caught wind of it, and didn’t believe him when he swore he hadn’t. She left him, and he’s never forgiven my mama. He also knew, like everyone in town, that Gran left me everything, including the house. So she had no right to be there at all.”

“And that equates to her coming to visit, how?”

“I had to wire them money to bail her out of jail, and she has nowhere to go—that’s why she was breaking into Gran’s. When she asked to come here, I couldn’t find the word no fast enough in my brain. Don’t worry; she’ll last a day or two, hook up with some roadie—”