SWNOVELS When He Desires: Chapter 17
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I mutter a string of curses at the phone as I jam my thumb against the snooze icon.
I’m not a morning person. Never been one. For most of my life, my work happened at night.
Now Sandro and I have meetings starting from eight a.m., sometimes even on a fucking Saturday like today.
We’re pitching a plan for what might be one of the biggest projects we’ve done, and while the architect’s running the show, I’ll be on deck when we start talking numbers. The clients are a pain in the ass who like to hold mind-numbingly long meetings on weekends. Normally, I wouldn’t care but I feel a pang of disappointment about leaving Blake on her own today.
When we bought the firm, we kept most of the existing staff. Handy Heroes had good people, but the owner was running the business into the ground. He barely had enough to cover a month of payroll when we scooped it up.
I wasn’t a total stranger to the business. Back in New York, we controlled a good chunk of the cement industry. If a firm wanted to bid on a project worth more than three million, they had to be approved by us. The owners paid us ten percent of their contracts—or at least the smart ones did.
The dumb ones ended up at the bottom of the Hudson.
But in Darkwater Hollow, Sandro and I operate by the book. No intimidation. No racketeering.
Nothing that might bring any unwanted attention onto us.
No wonder I’ve been so fucking bored.
Not anymore though.
I sit up on the couch with a yawn and run my fingers through my hair. The alarm starts blasting again before I shut it off for good.
At least it hasn’t woken Blake up. As I pass by the bedroom on my way to the guest bathroom, I don’t hear a sound on the other side of the door.
She looked dead on her feet before she went to bed last night. She barely even argued with me when I told her to take my bedroom. The thought of her lying in my bed, in my T-shirt, fills me with satisfaction.
How would she react if I climbed in beside her, dragged her thighs apart, and tasted her until she came apart on my tongue?
I drag a palm over my face. Yeah, we’ve got a long way to go before that happens.
If she thought I was one hundred percent Satan when I first moved in, I’ve probably managed to get that down to seventy-five percent when I convinced her to fake date me.
Maybe even fifty percent after telling her I’ll fix her house.
I have a feeling I’ll have to get it all the way into the tens for her to even consider sleeping with me.
But this whole fake dating idea is brilliant. Sometimes I surprise myself. Now, I have an excuse to take her out on dates and treat her better than that prick ever did. And she’s on the hook for going along with it.
We’ll pretend for a while, but in the meantime, I’ll be wearing her down. Bit by bit, every day. She won’t be able to deny me forever. There’s no woman who’d be able to withstand my charms in this situation. Not a single one. I’ve already won, Blake just doesn’t know it yet.
And when she finally gives in, the real fun will begin. I’ll fuck her so well she’ll want to write a damn book about it so that she can revisit the memories. We’ll get each other out of our systems, I’ll fix up her house, and she’ll go on her merry way.
And then everything will go back to the way it was before.
The way it was before.
Which…sucked.
I frown. I don’t need to think about what happens afterward. That’s a problem for another day.
I run the water and start brushing my teeth. Sandro’s not going to be happy when I ask him to start working on her house along with the other projects we’ve got on our plate. But he’s the one who’s been up my ass about my reputation. He should be pleased I’m doing something about it, right?
My appointment is in Cedar Springs, a neighborhood about a thirty-minute drive from the house. I turn on the radio and start running through the agenda in my head.
A siren cuts through my train of thought. My eyes narrow at the reflection in the rearview mirror.
A cop car.
“What the fuck?” I’m not over the speed limit.
I do what any respectable citizen—aka not a gangster in hiding—would do and pull over.
The cop pulls up behind me.
A guy about the same age as me gets out of the car. He has slicked-back hair and a pair of aviators hooked on his crooked nose. He motions for me to roll down the window, one hand on his gun for no apparent reason.
“License and registration.”
I prop my elbow on the edge of the window. “What’s the problem, Officer?”
“Routine check.” He shows me his open palm. “License and registration.”
My teeth grind together. There’s a gun in my glove compartment, but I keep the registration in the center console.
I hand the ID and the document to the cop, and I stare ahead while he looks them over. The ID’s fake, but it’ll hold up. I’ve got Rafe to thank for that.
“You live at One Landhorne Lane, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Beside the house that caught on fire?”
I cock my head. “Were you there yesterday?”
“No, but some friends of mine were.”
Something about the way he says the word “friends” tips me off.
Is this fucker friends with Blake’s ex?
I give the cop a vicious grin that’s made lesser men shit their pants. His eyes widen, but to his credit, he doesn’t bolt.
“It was a terrible accident,” I say. “Let’s hope there won’t be any more of those.”
He pushes his sunglasses up to his head and frowns. “Rowan Miller. Your ID is from Nevada. What are you doing in Darkwater Hollow?”
“I live here now. Moved recently.”
“What for?”
“I felt like it. It’s a free country, Officer. Sure seems like a lot of questions for a routine traffic stop.”
He drags his tongue over his teeth. “You need to get a state license if you live here now. I’m going to have to write you a fine.”
“Go right ahead,” I drawl.
He goes back to his car to write me a fucking ticket while I text Sandro I’m running late.
When he comes back, he hands me the ticket. “We’re a tight-knit community here, Mr. Miller, and we protect our own. You might do well to remember that.”
I give him and his cryptic message a two-finger salute. “Thanks for that. You have a good day now.”
The fucker watches me drive off, a scowl on his face.
So Blake’s ex has some bite to go along with all that bark. Too bad for him that his cop buddies won’t find anything if they run Rowan Miller through the system.
If they looked up Nero De Luca on the other hand… Ex-consigliere of one of the most powerful families in the Cosa Nostra. Nicknamed Angel of Death.
If Brett saw my rap sheet, he’d bolt out of this town with his tail tucked between his legs.
Sandro and the architect are waiting for me with the client when I arrive. We spend more than three hours going over our proposal, break for lunch, and then get back to it.
It’s not until we wrap it up in the late afternoon that I finally get Sandro alone.
“Let’s grab a beer. I’ve got something to talk to you about.”
“All good?”
“Yeah.” I stop by my truck and swipe my knuckle under my nose. “Had an interesting incident this morning. Tell you about it at The Junction?” It’s a local bar that doesn’t get busy until after dinner, so it’ll be quiet enough for us to have a conversation without being overheard.
Sandro gives me a curious look as he unlocks his car. “Sounds good. Meet you there.”
Fifteen minutes later, we’re sitting in a booth, beers in hand. Sandro got a Blue Moon, and I’ve got my usual Guinness. The owner, Denny, is behind the bar watching a replay of the game from this weekend on a flatscreen hanging in the corner.
Sandro takes a sip. “Long day, but I think it went really well. They loved the plan we presented.”
“Yeah? The husband kept looking at me weird.”
“Like I told you, the men of this town are wary of you.”
“You’ll be happy to know I’ve found a way to put their worries to rest.”
Sandro’s brow arches up. “Oh yeah?”
“I’m off the market. Blake and I are dating.”
He rears back. “Come again?”
“She needs a place to stay, and I need a girlfriend. We made a deal.”
My crisp explanation seems to make Sandro even more confused. “Hold on, so she’s your fake girlfriend? Or is it for real?”
“Fake.”
He looks shocked. You’d think by now he’d expect things like this from me.
Sandro drags a palm over his cheek. “Dude, if she ever finds out you started that fire…”
“She’s never going to find out.” How could she? “I’ll start taking her out next week, and it won’t take long for the whole town to know we’re together. It’s brilliant, isn’t it?”
“I mean, yeah, I guess it could work…”
“We’re going to fix up her house, by the way. I told her you’ll be over soon to take a look at everything.”
He drags his palm down his face. “Sure. Great. As if I don’t have other things on my plate. But I don’t get it. If we fix her place, won’t she just try to sell it again and leave?”
“I don’t need to fake date her for long. Just a few months to smooth things over and have the people in this town move on to some other scandal.” A few months will also be enough for me to get Blake into my bed so I can get my fill of her.
At least I hope it will be enough. A woman’s never managed to keep my interest for more than that.
But what if she does?
“All right, I’ll go there next week.” Sandro sighs into his glass. “So what happened to you this morning?”
“I got stopped by a fucking cop.”
Concern flickers over Sandro’s expression. “Why?”
“Blake’s ex set him on me.”
“Blake’s ex?”
“Yeah, you know the douchebag who owns the bar she works at? He’s also the mayor’s son.”
The concern deepens. “Dude, you sure you picked the right woman to be your fake girlfriend?”
“I’m not worried about it. I just thought you should know.”
“Well, I am worried. I mean, it seems like you’re diving headfirst into a whole lot of trouble. He’s setting the cops on you? What if he starts sniffing around some more?”
“You really think this fucker who probably hasn’t stepped foot outside of Missouri his whole life is going to figure out who I am?” I scoff. “Please. He’s not a real threat.”
“You need to be careful.” Sandro shakes his head. “Letting her stay with you is not a good idea, man. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“She’s staying with me. End of fucking discussion.”
“Her ex might be nothing, but his dad—“
“His dad personally delivered an invite to his Christmas Charity Auction to me. He’s not looking for a fight. He’s happy I invested in his town. I’ll go to the auction, meet him, break bread, and put any doubts his son might have planted to rest.”
Sandro stares at me for a few long seconds. “You know no matter what happens between you two, you can never tell her who you are, right?”
“You think I’m an idiot? Of course I’m not going to tell her anything.” I have to lie to Blake the way I have to lie to everyone.
It’s never bothered me before, but now, as I say the words, a hollow feeling settles in my chest.