A Man of Wealth (The Kingmakers of Kensington Book 2) Page 4

  “We aren’t going any farther in this vehicle,” I explain as I point to a small parking area. There’s another way into the shipyard, but I want to watch it for a while first. She pulls up and turns off the car.

  “Now what?” she asks.

  “Now we wait.”

  Chapter 6

  Vivienne

  “What are we waiting for?” I prod as I sit, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel.

  “Just wait a minute. We need the next truck to come through and the gate to open. I want to see what’s going on in there before we do anything.”

  My mouth falls open. “Wait? You’re telling me you don’t have access to your father’s shipping yard?”

  He shrugs nonchalantly. His answer is more of a grunt than a word.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  “I don’t have access to any of my father’s properties,” he mutters quietly through gritted teeth.

  Wow. Just wow. I way underestimated the relationship between Conner and Theo Sterling.

  Conner’s phone buzzes and he looks down at it. “Interesting.”

  “Gonna share that with the class?” I ask as I glare at him.

  “Nope.”

  “Fuck off, Sterling, what the hell are you playing at?”

  He turns toward me the best he can with his tall frame in this small interior space. “This just got a lot harder.”

  My mind goes somewhere it shouldn’t. Damn him. Why couldn’t Conner be ugly?

  He raises a suggestive eyebrow and I groan as a smirk spreads across his face.

  “For the love of God, just… Ugh!” I groan as I turn away from him and look out at the river in front of us.

  I feel his hand on my thigh again. I want to jerk away to show him that I mean business, but the way he tightly grips me there has my traitorous body wanting him to do other things to it.

  “What?” I clip as I keep my focus on the water in front of us.

  “Aiden says his intel believes that this drug is coming in a liquid form, which is going to take our search from a needle in a haystack to an asteroid in a galaxy.”

  I finally turn to him. “Could you possibly be more difficult to understand?”

  He points to some refrigerated cargo containers. “We don’t even know how much of it is being brought in on the ship. Do you have any idea how many containers of various liquid materials come through here on a daily basis?”

  I shrug. He knows that I know this because I’ve seen the shipping logs.

  “So, do you see the problem now?” he asks, emphasizing the last word. Is he going to murder me? He could strangle me with his bare hands. I glance down at his hand and swallow. I was so focused on getting my big story break, I acted carelessly. I should have gotten better intel before I even thought about approaching Conner. I just made a rooky mistake. Damn it!

  “I suppose,” I admit begrudgingly.

  “What do you suggest we do, then?” He raises a valid point, and I have no idea what our next step should be.

  “Well, let me think for a minute.” I go back to tapping my finger until his hand releases from my thigh and covers my hand, stilling it.

  I glance over at him. He’s watching me intently. “Has anyone ever told you that you are wound very tight?”

  “More than once,” I retort.

  “Well, then, maybe you should do something about that before you give yourself a coronary.”

  “Maybe you should worry about yourself.”

  He grins. “Don’t worry, I have plenty of ways to relieve stress.”

  I huff and roll my eyes at his childish comment. Men.

  “Jared,” he states.

  “What?” I ask, my brows knitting together in confusion.

  “Jared Pallin, maybe…if we could just get some intel, we could narrow the window down to an arrival date. If I knew the date, it makes our search…plausible,” he muses as he brings his thumb and forefinger up to stroke his beard. My brain fragments, part of it following his chain of logic while the other is mesmerized with his facial hair and wanting to know how scratchy it would feel against the inside of my thighs.

  “We could go to the pharmaceutical association gala…” I offer as I try to remember Jared’s schedule over the next week.

  “When’s the gala?” he asks.

  “This weekend.”

  “Why don’t you just go solo?”

  I look at him and tip my head a bit, as if to say, figure it out, buddy.

  He smacks his forehead. “Let me guess, you can’t get in without me?”

  I nod and smile sheepishly.

  “Am I going to get crucified if I roll up with you on my arm?” His question is a fair one.

  I shrug. “Probably not, although it may raise some eyebrows.”

  “Great, just what I need right now, more unwanted attention.”

  I lean back in the seat. “It’s just an idea.”

  “Right, just an idea,” he grumbles as he looks at the shipping yard once more. “Let’s head back. There’s nothing we can do tonight, knowing what we know now.”

  I can’t say he’s wrong. If it’s in a refrigerated container, we could spend all night here and still not find it.

  I sigh and put the car in reverse as I start back toward the road.

  “Disappointed that our adventure didn’t pan out for you?”

  “No, and yes,” I admit as I steer us back to I-95. I glance in my rearview mirror and see a car following us. I turn and it turns. I turn again and it turns. I do this several more times.

  “You just missed the exit,” Conner states as he points toward the sign.

  “We’re being followed,” I explain.

  “Fuck.” He whips out his phone and calls someone, the car’s Bluetooth picks up and I hear a deep, gravelly voice answer.

  “Gallagher.”

  “Bryce, when did your team last sweep my cars?”

  “Last week, why?”

  “Fuck. I think the McLaren is bugged.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  Conner looks behind us and glances back over at me. “Because I’m being followed.”

  “Shit. Hold on.” There’s silence for a moment.

  “Why are you at the port of Baltimore? And where’s my team?”

  “Research. And, I maybe ditched them.”

  I hear some curse words muttered on the other line. “Alright, I just got into the city camera system. It looks like a black sedan with tinted windows. I’m running the plates now.”

  I look over at Conner and mouth, “What?”

  Conner hits mute on the car. “Bryce runs my security. He’s watching us through cameras,” he points to a traffic camera on the road.

  “Fucking big brother-y,” I murmur as I continue to drive. “Where should I go?”

  He unmutes the car and asks Bryce where to go.

  “Get on I-95 at the next intersection,” Bryce commands. “Wait. Who the hell is driving?”

  I grin and wave at a camera on the side of the road.

  Conner shakes his head and runs a hand over his face. “That would be Vivienne Westerly.”

  “I don’t even want to know what you two were doing, do I?”

  “Nope.”

  “Great. Are you on 95 yet?”

  I pull onto the on-ramp and merge into traffic. The car follows us.

  “Yes, we just got on.”

  “Then, floor it and take the far-right lane when you get to the tunnel. The left lanes are blocked after the tunnel with an accident that hasn’t shown up on the navigation systems yet.”

  I floor it and enjoy the revving of the engine as I speed through traffic. The car behind us keeps pace with ours, and I begin moving around cars as Conner braces himself against the passenger door. I grin as I shift and then, at the last minute, jerk the wheel to put us in the far-right lane. A car cuts off the car that’s following us, forcing them to stay in the left lanes.

  I speed through the tunnel and conti
nue around the accident scene at a slower speed before testing out the car once more as I weave in and out of traffic.

  When I get us south of the Baltimore beltway, I ease up on the gas.

  “He’s stuck at the accident scene. You’re clear. You may want to be careful with where you go tonight. I’m not the only one who can hack cameras. I’m sending men over to watch your penthouse and home. I’ll have your other cars swept. Leave the McLaren out when you get home.”

  “Will do.”

  “And stay the fuck out of trouble,” Bryce mutters as he hangs up.

  “He’s a real sweetheart,” I state as I get in the fast lane and head back toward Conner’s house.

  “Why do I feel like this isn’t your first high-speed chase?” Conner asks.

  I laugh as I look over at him. “Let’s just say the one time I snuck out as a teenager, I couldn’t exactly get a speeding ticket or I’d have been screwed, so…no, not my first time. But it is my second time escaping.”

  He shakes his head, and I see him smile as he looks out the passenger window. “Something makes me think that you are going to be a real handful, Vivienne Westerly,” he says to himself.

  “You wouldn’t be the first man to say that,” I reply under my breath.

  He chuckles. “Now that doesn’t surprise me at all.”

  I give him a saccharine smile. “Whatever do you mean?”

  His laugh intensifies. “I’ll give it to you, you don’t lack personality.”

  “It’s my charm, isn’t it?”

  He shakes his head. “It’s something.”

  “See what you’ve been missing all these years? And to think, you’ve spent all this time hating me.”

  On that comment, his smile fades, and he looks away again. Maybe I pressed the wrong button with that comment?

  He looks back at me with a serious face. “You’re still on my shit list.”

  Shit. He’s not wrong. While our “mortal enemies” status might have ended, it seems it was only downgraded to regular enemies.

  Chapter 7

  Conner

  I look out at the city. This hotel always keeps a room available for my father, who seldom uses it, so I have decided to finally take advantage of something from being his son. I straighten my bow tie as I assess myself in the reflection of the window, the Washington Monument cutting my image in half. Touché, Washington D.C., touché. I turn and head to the bar to wait for Vivienne, who insisted she just meet me here. But for appearances, we have to enter the gala as a couple. I can’t believe I agreed to this. I contemplate my momentary lapse of intelligence as I ride the elevator down to the lobby. Who am I kidding? From the moment she talked me into meeting privately with her, all my judgment flew right out the fucking window.

  I look around as I walk into the bar, but she’s not here yet. So, I take a seat and wait for the bartender. He comes over and begins to ask for my drink order but stops mid-question and looks across the room. His eyes widen a little and then he immediately finishes asking me if I want their signature bacon in my bourbon, to which I say no. He quickly turns and walks away to get my drink. I swivel to see what has him so flustered. As my eyes survey the room, they find the source of his gaze.

  Fucking hell. Vivienne Westerly is gorgeous on a bad day, but this woman before me is a fucking piece of art. She belongs on my wall next to my Picassos and Renoirs. She’s wearing a black cocktail dress that has one strap. It’s tasteful and elegant and accentuates every curve of her frame. Her hair is pulled up into some sort of twisted knot on the top of her head. My dirty mind immediately envisions gripping it as I slam my cock between those red lips of hers. Her makeup looks to be professionally done. I’ve seen former model girlfriends have their makeup artists spend two hours on their faces before we attend events. Yet, somehow, I don’t think Vivienne called a professional. I think Vivienne is a professional. She has on dangling diamond earrings and a matching diamond-studded tennis bracelet. It surprises me that a woman so beautiful decided to become a journalist and not a model or an actress. She could sell a pool to a man who can’t swim with the way she looks right now. And that sharp tongue of hers…let’s just say I’d like to feel it more than I want to hear it right now.

  I try to adjust myself discreetly as I turn to stand and pull out a chair for her.

  “Good evening,” I state as I motion for her to sit.

  She looks me up and down and I don’t miss her lips curving into a smirk. That little siren thinks she’s won this battle. I’ll let her live in her make-believe world…for now.

  “Hi, Brett,” she says with a warm smile to the bartender.

  “You look lovely this evening, Vivienne. The usual?” he asks.

  “Yes, please.” She turns to me, and I cock my head to one side. How does she know everyone in this town? Do they not see through her yet? Do they not see that she’s using them for her gain? My momentary lust turns to anger as I remember the unkind words she wrote about my mother all those years ago. No one should ever speak ill of the dead.

  “What?” she asks, her eyes trained on me as if she can read me. I scoff at that. I’ve worked for years at masking my feelings. No one knows what I’m thinking, ever, and that’s how I like it.

  “Nothing.” I’m saved from further conversation when Brett sets a glass of white wine in front of her.

  “Why always white wine?” I ask, motioning to her glass.

  She raises an eyebrow. “Why always bourbon or whiskey?” she retorts.

  I slowly sip my drink and smirk when I see her gaze drop for a millisecond to watch me swallow it. She’s affected by me, and I can work with that to my advantage.

  “Because it tastes like wealth. And as you know, I don’t ‘always’ order them,” I reply coolly.

  She narrows her eyes.

  “What? You don’t agree?” I ask as I hold my tumbler.

  She shrugs and drinks her wine. I watch her lips on the glass and am treated to the red print they leave. Shit, that red print would look so much fucking better on my dick.

  She sets her drink down and turns a little in my direction. “I think that you drink bourbon because you like the taste of misogynistic power,” she says, her eyes still narrowed.

  I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from laughing at her absurd statement. She has no idea who I really am, and her statement just made that completely clear.

  “Wow. That’s a big word for such a little lady,” I reply with a sugary grin. This smile is the one thing I inherited from my asshole of a father. His British sarcasm is so dry most Americans don’t even realize when he’s made a joke.

  “Well, I hope my big word wasn’t too much for your giant brain to handle. I wouldn’t want to be the straw that broke it,” she quips with an equally sugary smile.

  Maybe she is smarter than I give her credit for.

  We finish our drinks in silence. My phone buzzes, and I look down to see a text from Sebastian. “Jared just arrived.”

  “That’s our cue,” I state as I rise and hold out my arm for her.

  She looks at it for a long moment before accepting it, her fingers barely touching my sleeve. The ice queen is back. I straighten my shoulders, rising to my full height. I’ve long learned that standing six feet and five inches tall has its advantages. Being a mountain among hills has its perks.

  I spot Jared immediately upon walking into the ballroom. The shady little fuck is already saddling up to the bar for his free drink, a shitty lukewarm beer from what I can tell.

  I feel Vivienne’s grip tighten on my arm. I glance down and watch as she swallows and then pushes her chest forward. Jesus, she shouldn’t do that, now all the men are going to be looking directly at her amazing rack. Some beastly part of me wants to cover her with both hands, blocking those tits from everyone’s view except my own.

  “I got this,” she states as she releases my arm and struts across the room. I can’t help noticing a dozen men gawk at her as she passes them on her way to the bar
. She doesn’t even realize what she does, or does she? Fuck, this woman is complicated. It makes me want to bend her over my knee and spank the living hell out of her, and it also makes me want to drive my hard cock deep into her pussy. I close my eyes for a brief second to stop myself from thinking thoughts that I have no business thinking. I wouldn’t want to fuck Vivienne if she was the last woman on the planet. Not even if she apologized for what she said about my mother.

  I channel that rage and slowly walk to a bar on the opposite side of the room where Sebastian is holding court with several of our brothers. Alexis is at his side, and from the way his arm is wrapped around her waist, she’s not going anywhere without him.

  He nods as I approach. Declan and Paul are chatting about their latest vehicle purchases. Aaron is on the fringe of our group chatting with a senator. Declan introduces me to a colleague that walks up to us. It’s the usual small talk banter that occurs at such events before everyone has a few drinks in them and gets down to actual conversation, which is almost always trading tit for tat and making promises that they’ll never keep.

  Declan notices that I’m distracted and as his colleague turns to Sebastian, he leans in toward me. “Everything, alright?”

  I nod. “Yeah, just making sure my date doesn’t get accosted by a pharmaceutical sleezeball.”

  Declan chuckles and follows my gaze. “I thought we hated Vivienne?”

  I shrug. “We do. But she’s helping me with something.”

  “Oh?”

  I turn to him. “Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure, I still hate her.”

  He nods and sips his drink as Sebastian asks him about his recent yacht purchase. With everyone distracted again, I use my height advantage to watch Vivienne over top of a senator’s head. She’s leaning against the bar, talking animatedly to Jared who is having an entire conversation with her breasts. I find my hand clenching around my drink as I envision Jared’s neck there. I take a deep breath as I bring the glass to my mouth, trying to distract myself from feeling like a protective beast toward a woman who should be burned at the stake.