“Um, I can go with Lisa.”
“She lives in Brooklyn, so she’ll meet us there.”
Darn. “Sure. All right.”
“We’re going early. Seven AM.”
“Not a problem.”
His smile made that lean, aristocratic face even more gorgeous. “See you tomorrow.”
I hurried to the elevator, power walked across the lobby, then raced to the Busy Bean.
I pulled out my phone and tapped in a message.
I’m here.
People were coming and going from the coffee shop, and the baristas looked run off their feet. No one looked like a criminal mastermind.
They never did.
Some of the people I’d seen break the law were just greedy or desperate people who’d made bad choices. But others had normal faces hiding rotten hearts.
A woman with dyed black hair stopped beside me. Her eyes were blue, but they looked blank, cold.
“Be ready. You’ll receive an envelope in the next few days. For now, leave this for the target to find.”
She handed me a small note, then the woman was gone.
I dragged in a breath and headed back to the office.
Once I was inside the elevator, I opened the note.
Secrets never stay in the shadows.
My gut cramped. What trouble was Liam Kensington in?
Secrets Never Stay in the Shadows
Liam
Liam dodged the hit, ducked his attacker’s arm, and landed his own hard punch to the man’s side.
His attacker grunted and staggered.
“Jesus, Kensington, what’s with you today?” Mav grunted.
“He’s kicking your ass, Mav,” Zane called out across the indoor gym.
“He wants it more,” another deep voice, one lined with grit, said.
Straightening, Liam glanced at Zane and their trainer, Simeon. The older man was lean, a little mean, and had no qualms about putting the three of them through their paces.
He taught them Krav Maga, and regularly kicked all their asses. He claimed he’d been in the Israeli military, but Zane swore he was an ex-Mossad spy.
Mav grabbed his water bottle from the corner of the mats and chugged. Liam nabbed his towel and wiped his face.
“He seemed off last night at dinner, too.” Mav scowled.
“Dinner was excellent, though,” Zane said. “Monroe likes to bake, but she isn’t fond of cooking. She loved your Beef Wellington, Liam.”
Surprisingly, Monroe was fitting into their trio easily.
Zane was lucky. He’d found a woman who was down-to-earth, gorgeous, smart, and fun. And most importantly real.
“My father is getting married again,” Liam said.
“Hell,” Mav grunted.
Liam shrugged. “I looked up my new stepmother-to-be. She’s twenty-five.”
“God.” Zane shook his head. “Sorry, Liam.”
“But no doubt my father is in New York for more than just introducing his fiancée to his son,” Liam said.
“Money,” Mav grumbled, his voice holding an edge.
“My father will leave New York eventually.” Liam wiped the back of his neck. “He always does. And I’ll wait to see both his wedding and divorce in the society pages.”
Zane gripped Liam’s shoulder and squeezed.
“Let’s get together Friday night,” Mav said. “I got my hands on a bottle of thirty-seven-year-old Lagavulin, and it has our names on it.”
“Sounds great.” Liam glanced at his Patek Philippe. “Shit, I need to shower and get to the office. I have an early off-site meeting.” He smiled, thinking of tangling with Penn again. Without the Saint Bernard involved, this time.
“What’s that smile?” Zane studied him like he was a hot, billion-dollar deal.
“What smile?” Liam grabbed his workout bag. “Thanks, Simeon.”
The older man grunted. “That smile says woman.”
“I have a site visit,” Liam said.
“Woman,” Simeon insisted.
Liam waved and disappeared into the locker room before he got interrogated.
He was highly conscious of the fact that Penn was an employee, which made her off-limits. He’d watched his father sleep through half of his own company, and it was a line Liam didn’t cross.
No matter how intriguing he found the lovely, confident Penn.
He showered and dressed in his bespoke Henry Poole suit, and drove his Aston Martin DB11 to the office. He parked in the garage and took the executive elevator to his office.
He loved being in the office early or late at night—when it was quiet, no one else was around.
He scanned the tiles and glass, the vase of fresh flowers on the reception desk. His name etched on the wall.
Kensington Group was his. He’d built it from the ground up. He was the one who’d taken the risks, worked endless all-nighters, and bled for it. No doubt he’d been privileged—one thing his father had given him was a good education, but after college, Rupert had tried to bring Liam to heel.
Liam had actually wanted to join the British Army. Rupert had wanted him to take over the family business in London. And run everything his father’s way. Rupert was fond of handshake deals and business that didn’t sit well with Liam.
Thanks to his father’s interference—he’d been buddies with a few generals—the Army wasn’t an option. He’d decided to start his own company from the ground up in order to stick it to his father.
Liam was bloody proud of everything he’d forged on his own—every brick, beam, and wall.
He sat behind his desk and sorted through some messages that Eleanor had left for him.
“Hello, there,” a throaty, female voice drawled.
Liam looked up, frowned.
A tall woman leaned in his doorway. She wore a long, fur coat, and had a cloud of styled black hair, and wide, almond-shaped eyes.
It took him a second to place her. To be fair, he’d only met her once in person, and he was used to seeing her in her underwear plastered on billboards.
Geneva Sorensen.
She was the model of the moment—taking New York by storm. She’d worn some infamous dress to the Met Gala, and was headlining Fashion Week.
They’d met at a party a few weeks back, and she’d put both her phone number and her hotel key card in his pocket.
He hadn’t been tempted to use either. A few months ago, she’d been seen partying with his father on a yacht in the South of France.
“Geneva.”
“Liam.” She tossed her head back in a move that had to be practiced. “You never called.”
“How did you get up here?”
“The guard downstairs recognized me.” Her perfect lips formed a smile. “I told him we were special friends.”
Liam made a note to talk to the head of security. “Well, I’m afraid I’m on my way out—”
She strode in, and her coat shifted, giving him a view of her long, leggy body clad only in bronze lingerie.
Ah, hell. She was gorgeous, of course, and he supposed he should be worried that he barely felt more than a blip of interest.
“Geneva, this is my place of business. I’ve a full day ahead—”
“We can have so much fun together.” Her voice was a sexy purr. “Cancel your meetings.”