Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“Positive,” I assured him. Because the picture Rowe had painted with his words was of something much bigger and wilder than a new living space—it looked like my future. And I couldn’t wait.
Rachel’s call was another sobering reminder that we had stuff to deal with first, though. While she and Rowe videoconferenced at the kitchen table for an hour, speaking in a technical language that would have made way more sense to Silas than it did to me, I made notes and took a few more calls from the attorneys. The patent applications in Austin’s name hadn’t been submitted yet, which meant we could pause them indefinitely. Applying for the patents on Rowe’s behalf would have been my ideal next step, but it wasn’t something I could or would do without his consent.
By the time he wrapped up his call with Rachel, Rowe was red-faced with excitement. “Sterling Chase already uses keystroke tracking, so Rachel had access to the data without having to install it. She was able to pull his recent history, and guess what? Rachel discovered several texts between Austin and Justin.”
He looked down at his hastily scribbled notes on the back of the brown paper takeout bag. “There were three in particular that caught our attention. One arranged an introduction between Justin and someone named Inessa. Not much info to go on for that one, but Rachel said she thought the name was familiar. One was a text exchange where Austin seemed to be congratulating Justin on something called ‘the Odegard matter.’ The third was—”
“Wait,” I said. “Odegard? You’re sure that’s what he said?”
“Yeah.” Rowe typed a few keys on his laptop. “She sent me the logs. It’s… here.” He turned the computer in my direction. “See? ‘Congrats on the Odegard matter. You owe me dinner at Mastros. Name the night.’ Does that mean something to you?”
“Yes,” I said grimly. “It means that all this time, Silas thought Justin used him to steal a client Silas was trying to sign to Sterling Chase. But it looked like Silas wasn’t Justin’s only source of information.” I picked up my phone to text Kenji. “Send those keystroke logs to me?”
Me: Ask the investigator to see if she can find a connection between Austin, Justin, and Odegard.
Kenji: Silas’s Odegard?? WTF??
Me: This is getting dirty. Sending you transcripts from Austin’s computer.
Kenji: On it.
I tossed my phone on the table and rubbed my hands over my face. “Do I even want to know what the third text said?”
Rowe’s forehead crinkled in concern, but he glanced back at his notes.
“The third thing was Austin messaging someone else about Justin. Rachel doesn’t have an ID on the number yet, but the message read, ‘Hardy’s so into the game, he’s legit marrying some chick for her IP.’ Is Justin engaged? Was he… didn’t he… date Silas?”
“Yes. He did.” Adrenaline spiked in my gut. Even though Silas hated Justin now, hearing that Justin had moved on would probably crush him. He’d also want to kill the man for using someone else like this. “Just when I thought I couldn’t loathe that fucker any more than I already do.”
“You should tell Silas. He should hear it from you and not through the gossip mill.”
I nodded. “I’m ninety-nine percent sure Kenji will already be relaying this information to the brotherhood. And we’ll be there for Silas if he needs us.”
“I know you will.” Rowe stood and came around the table to rub my shoulders. “I’m sorry. This whole thing sucks. Money doesn’t buy happiness, huh?”
I snorted tiredly. “Definitely not.”
“But it does buy nice beach houses.” He slid his small frame between the chair and the table, straddling my lap. His grin was pure playful temptation. “Beach houses with a truly excessive number of rooms, many of which haven’t been christened.”
I pulled him closer and slanted my mouth over his before filling my hands with his delectable ass. “We’re gonna have to rectify that right away,” I told him, breaking away only long enough to suck on the long column of his neck. “Starting with this one.”
EIGHTEEN
ROWE
In all the sexual fantasies I’d had about being with a man I cared about, I’d never imagined falling off a chair mid-grind and laughing my way through a dirty sixty-nine with a billionaire on the dining room floor of a multimillion-dollar beach mansion.
But then, I’d never, ever, even in my wildest dreams, imagined Bash.
“Oh fuck, yes, just like that,” he grunted as I practiced my newfound oral skills on him. “I think I’m lying on your shoe.”
I sucked the head of his cock and jacked the shaft with my hand just as he swallowed me to the back of his throat. “Shit, fuck,” I gasped. My knee scraped along the area rug and knocked the leg of the chair behind me, which then bumped the table and sent a pen and notebook tumbling over the edge to land on my shoulder. “Your interior designer should be drawn and quartered. The sisal rug isn’t functional.”