criminal.
He was glad that Leo had left to take care of whatever he felt he needed to organize, just in case the three of them needed to make a quick exit from the city. He couldn’t bring himself to share this information. Not yet. But there wouldn’t have been a way to hide the sense of betrayal and horror that he felt at the brazen disregard the old man had clearly felt for the lives of American soldiers. Those AEGIS was theoretically founded to help and support.
God, he was going to be sick.
He’d run other searches in the email, but nothing else had come up. He’d looked for information on Cindy, on his other half-siblings, and on their mothers. Nothing. While the old man had apparently had no problem flaunting his treason on AEGIS’s servers, he’d been more careful when he’d planned to terrorize his various children into living the life Cindy had claimed that he wanted from them.
He clapped the lid of the laptop closed, opened the bottom drawer of his desk, and locked the laptop away. He had to talk to the lawyers. This had to be handled properly, or it could blow up everything about the company. It wasn’t going to be just his personal lawyers, either—this was going to have to go through the corporate attorneys. He’d need to make a presentation. Oh, god, he really was going to be sick.
He closed his eyes for a moment and choked down the sense of churning illness in his stomach. He’d thought—since Zoey had first asked him the question, since that awful meeting with the two Asian businessmen, he’d known that it was a distinct possibility—but to be confronted with the truth, that his father was a traitor to his country, on top of being a complete dirt bag. The knowledge made his entire body ache.
Tomorrow. Nothing was going to change between tonight and tomorrow. First thing tomorrow, he’d make the rounds. Check in with PR, see if there was anything that could be done to kill the story about Claire besides waiting for something more exciting to happen, and the tabloids to sink their teeth into that. Go to the lawyers, let them know what he’d found out, and let them deal with all of it.
Tonight, though. Tonight, he was going to go home. No. First, he was going to pick up some really excellent Chinese food and a bottle of Highland Park Scotch. He’d go home to Zoey. Leo would be there, if not right away, then soon. And he was going to sink into her, fuck her, fuck him, fuck someone until this ache in his chest turned back into a beating heart.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Zoey tried to focus her eyes. It wasn’t working very well. It was as if the whiskey had hit her like a wrecking ball, knocking her back a dozen steps. She was glad she was sitting. “Where did you get this again?”
Alex gave her a wide grin. “It’s from the Scotch Malt Society,” he said, slurring just a little on the syllables. “They have a big thing about only bottling from this one cask that they’ve chosen, all carefully. There are judges.” He peered back at her, gesturing with the glass of amber liquid. “The man at the store explained it all very carefully. I’m sure there were judges.”
Leo stared at the dark liquid with an equally closed off expression. “Whiskey,” he said. His accent was a bit thicker than Zoey had heard before, and a giggle bubbled up within her. “Should have gotten vodka.”
Alex actually rolled his eyes. “You should be more stereotypical, Leo. Seriously, I would like you to try.”
Leo gave another considering look at the drink—then tossed it back while Alex howled in protest. “Come, moya dorogaya . You have two slaves at your feet. Tell us what you want from us.”
Zoey sipped the last of her whiskey—it felt amazing in her mouth, soft and thick and almost like liquid chocolate—and set the glass aside. Alex had come home with a bottle of whiskey so expensive that she’d choked when he’d told her the price, and
He was glad that Leo had left to take care of whatever he felt he needed to organize, just in case the three of them needed to make a quick exit from the city. He couldn’t bring himself to share this information. Not yet. But there wouldn’t have been a way to hide the sense of betrayal and horror that he felt at the brazen disregard the old man had clearly felt for the lives of American soldiers. Those AEGIS was theoretically founded to help and support.
God, he was going to be sick.
He’d run other searches in the email, but nothing else had come up. He’d looked for information on Cindy, on his other half-siblings, and on their mothers. Nothing. While the old man had apparently had no problem flaunting his treason on AEGIS’s servers, he’d been more careful when he’d planned to terrorize his various children into living the life Cindy had claimed that he wanted from them.
He clapped the lid of the laptop closed, opened the bottom drawer of his desk, and locked the laptop away. He had to talk to the lawyers. This had to be handled properly, or it could blow up everything about the company. It wasn’t going to be just his personal lawyers, either—this was going to have to go through the corporate attorneys. He’d need to make a presentation. Oh, god, he really was going to be sick.
He closed his eyes for a moment and choked down the sense of churning illness in his stomach. He’d thought—since Zoey had first asked him the question, since that awful meeting with the two Asian businessmen, he’d known that it was a distinct possibility—but to be confronted with the truth, that his father was a traitor to his country, on top of being a complete dirt bag. The knowledge made his entire body ache.
Tomorrow. Nothing was going to change between tonight and tomorrow. First thing tomorrow, he’d make the rounds. Check in with PR, see if there was anything that could be done to kill the story about Claire besides waiting for something more exciting to happen, and the tabloids to sink their teeth into that. Go to the lawyers, let them know what he’d found out, and let them deal with all of it.
Tonight, though. Tonight, he was going to go home. No. First, he was going to pick up some really excellent Chinese food and a bottle of Highland Park Scotch. He’d go home to Zoey. Leo would be there, if not right away, then soon. And he was going to sink into her, fuck her, fuck him, fuck someone until this ache in his chest turned back into a beating heart.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Zoey tried to focus her eyes. It wasn’t working very well. It was as if the whiskey had hit her like a wrecking ball, knocking her back a dozen steps. She was glad she was sitting. “Where did you get this again?”
Alex gave her a wide grin. “It’s from the Scotch Malt Society,” he said, slurring just a little on the syllables. “They have a big thing about only bottling from this one cask that they’ve chosen, all carefully. There are judges.” He peered back at her, gesturing with the glass of amber liquid. “The man at the store explained it all very carefully. I’m sure there were judges.”
Leo stared at the dark liquid with an equally closed off expression. “Whiskey,” he said. His accent was a bit thicker than Zoey had heard before, and a giggle bubbled up within her. “Should have gotten vodka.”
Alex actually rolled his eyes. “You should be more stereotypical, Leo. Seriously, I would like you to try.”
Leo gave another considering look at the drink—then tossed it back while Alex howled in protest. “Come, moya dorogaya . You have two slaves at your feet. Tell us what you want from us.”
Zoey sipped the last of her whiskey—it felt amazing in her mouth, soft and thick and almost like liquid chocolate—and set the glass aside. Alex had come home with a bottle of whiskey so expensive that she’d choked when he’d told her the price, and
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