Buch lesen: «Trust In Us»

Chapter 1

“It’d be real nice of you to have this all wrapped up by the time I get back.”

“Now, you know I’m good, boss. But even I won’t boast that I could make that happen in a couple of days.”

Gage Vincent kept his eyes fixed on the open folder, which had been hoarding his attention for the past ten minutes. The response from his assistant commanded a smile that accentuated his words with imminent laughter when he finally spoke.

“Jay wants ten days, I’m giving him ten days,” Gage told the young man who occupied the paper-littered sofa on the other side of the office suite.

Webb Reese’s chuckle was a touch muffled behind the papers he held close to his attractive, heavily bearded face. “You taking a ten-day break? That’ll be a first.”

Gage’s face held a stony yet sly expression.

In a show of defense, Webb raised his hands, sending the papers sprinkling down onto the black suede of the sofa. “Just sayin’,” he sang.

Gage returned his focus to the folder, shut it and gave it a wave in Webb’s direction. “Time to start earning that insane salary I’m paying you.”

Webb’s nod was brief. His earlier playfulness had now adopted a more solemn element. “You’re really leaving it all up to me?”

Gage’s lone dimple made a quick appearance when he smiled that time. “You’ve earned it.” He watched Webb come forward to claim the file.

“This is a big deal, boss.” Webb emphasized the reminder by giving the folder a deliberate shake.

“Sure is.” A thick glossy brow rose with challenging intent and Gage studied his assistant of five years with a look of mock suspicion. “Have you learned nothing from your vast experience in my presence?”

Webb attempted to laugh over the tease but seemed too nervous to do so.

Taking pity, Gage pushed aside the other files that required his attention. He reared back in his desk chair while leveling a deep chocolaty-brown stare at Webb.

“I’m leaving this to you because I trust you to handle it right.” Gage inclined his head slightly when he noticed Webb’s eyes widen. “I have a building full of people who’d be happy to chime in with their two cents, argue against your points of view and suggest I fire you upon my return.”

Webb laughed then.

The “building full of people” Gage had referred to—more specifically, the senior executive staff—were all employed by Vincent Industries and Development, or VID, as it was more affectionately known locally—in and around Charlotte, NC—nationally and internationally.

“I need someone to have my back on this, Webb.” Gage was serious, which was made evident by the intermittent flash of the lighter hues in his rich gaze. “You’re the only one who knows my tastes. You know what offers I think have merit and which ones I think are bullshit. In short, you won’t just accept a bid based on the amount of zeroes it brings with it. You’ll look at the people the bid is attached to, their backgrounds, the people attached to them and their backgrounds.”

Webb’s emerging toothy smile hinted at his appreciation of Gage’s words.

“Are you saying you don’t think your top circle of people will care about those things?” he asked.

“My top circle cares about the money they make me.” Gage reared back again in the desk chair, which coordinated with the sofa and other office furnishings. “That’s one reason they belong to my top circle— because I care about the money they make me.

“But I also care about the pockets that money comes from before it comes to mine,” Gage shared once the round of low laughter between him and Webb subsided. “That care involves certain hands-on work that I won’t be able to be a part of, as I’ll be off somewhere wasting my time.”

Webb’s laughter then sounded abrupt. “Dang, sir, you make it sound like a hassle.”

“A hassle.” Gage focused on a point across his expansive office and appeared to be turning the word over in his mind as he reflected upon the observation. “It’s not exactly a hassle. I just don’t see the positive in bringing together the bridal party before the wedding.” He shrugged, sending a ripple through the crisp fabric of the olive-green shirt he wore.

“You’ve known me and my gang long enough, Webb. My boys and I can find drama where none should ever exist. Mix in the bride and her gang... Well...you get the picture I’m trying to create here....”

“It could still make for less drama,” Webb said, evidently adopting the role of devil’s advocate. “Think of it as a chance to meet and get to know each other on a less stressful level before all the real pre-wedding festivities get under way.”

“Less stressful.” Sighing, Gage massaged his eyes while considering the upcoming bachelor-and-bachelorette getaway that had been suggested by the bride-to-be.

“It’s also a time to get to know the bride better,” Webb added while moving to collect the papers that had been strewn around the office during the course of the morning’s meeting.

Resting his head back on the chair, Gage bridged his fingers and factored that element into his thinking. His oldest friend, Jayson Muns, had recently stunned his close group of friends with news of his engagement to Orchid Benjamin. The woman’s background boasted old money. Old as in antebellum old, rare for an African-American family of the South, but it was what it was.

Unfortunately, Jay’s black society princess had a reputation that had been earned on the wilder side. It was a reputation that Jayson seemed totally oblivious to.

“Ten days in the Caribbean...” Webb reminded him. “And I’m betting it won’t be any hardship on the eyes at all to be around Ms. Benjamin and her crew. You can learn a lot about people by the friends they keep.”

Webb continued his tidying—and missed Gage smiling miserably in agreement.

* * *

Myrna Fisher used her free hand to pile her shoulder-length bobbed hair into a loose dark ball atop her head. With that done, she reinserted the outfit just below her chin. She’d folded down the hanger to improve her observation in the full-length mirror.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d swear your ambition was the only thing motivating you to take this trip.” Myrna barely turned her head to throw her voice across her shoulder.

Alythia Duffy snuggled deeper into the tousle of thick pillows along the head of the high-canopied bed. Her bright eyes never left the snow globe as she shifted it upside down, right-side up and back again.

“I don’t know any better,” Alythia conceded, the bulk of her attention on the rush of white confetti drifting down around a miniature replica of the Charlotte skyline.

In playful retaliation, Myrna tossed the outfit she’d been debating over. The garment landed across Aly’s bare feet, which were only partially visible given all the other articles of clothing Myrna had tossed there during her rushed packing job.

“In spite of my cluelessness, ambition isn’t my only reason for going.” Alythia defended herself in a tone harboring a fair share of mock indignance.

“But it is a reason?” Myrna challenged. Silence met her query and she did an about-face toward the canopy, shooting a glare in Alythia’s direction. “This should be the one time we all put business and all of those other obligations aside, you know?”

Undaunted, Alythia propped herself higher against the pillows. “This coming from the woman who missed her own nephew’s high school graduation for a bikini fitting?”

“Oh, please, Aly...how long are y’all gonna give me grief over that?” Myrna began to rifle through the outfits that would make the cut to be packed for the upcoming trip. “The designer was only in town that night and I’d already been paid five large figures for that shoot.”

“Right...” Alythia took care not to mask any of the sarcasm she was aiming for. “A little business won’t hurt anything,” she reasoned.

Myrna’s mouth fell open and for an instant Alythia thought the woman had gone into shock.

“Are you serious right now, Alythia? One of our group is about to take the vows.” Myrna curved a hand between two perky D-cups and put in place her most sincere expression. “Vows, Aly. Do you get how huge this is?”

Oh, I get it, Alythia thought. She got it all too well. No one, from the local media to the woman’s closest friends, had been more surprised when bad girl around town Orchid Benjamin had announced not only an engagement but also an actual wedding date with her on-again, off-again flame, Jayson Muns. Yes, it was huge.

Melancholy took root inside Alythia, souring her interest in the snow globe perched in her lap. “I’m gonna be there with bells on for her, Mur,” she said, returning the bauble to the white marble night table near the bed. She caught the quick look her friend sliced at her through the mirror.

“I’ll be sure to give Orchid all the attention she needs.” Aly debated slipping back into the rose-blush canvas shoes that matched the drop-tail hem top she wore with denim capris. Myrna didn’t appear impressed or trusting of the promise.

Still, the woman shrugged. “At least you’ll be there in body if not entirely in spirit.”

Thankful for the reprieve, Aly resituated her head on the pillows and studied her anxious friend with greater interest. There was a noticeable weariness to Myrna, given her usual and almost annoying state of cheerfulness. After more than a few seconds of observation, she pushed herself up to half sit among the litter of clothes and pillows.

“What is it?” Alythia’s demand was present in her amethyst eyes. The orbs contrasted beautifully against the dewy caramel of her skin.

“Don’t pay me no mind, girl.” She gave an airy wave. “This bridey stuff is already taking its zany effect on my mood.”

“I don’t buy it.” Alythia raised her hand when Myrna opened her mouth to argue. “I already saw the expression, so spill it.”

“I’m just being stupid.”

“Okay...” Alythia’s drawling reply noted that she wasn’t about to argue her friend’s insight.

Myrna’s smile was more genuine despite the slight strain she couldn’t quite shadow. She tossed a blouse at Alythia’s face.

“Aly?”

“Yeah?”

Myrna moved the clothes to be packed, clearing a spot to sit on the armchair. “What do you think about Orchid’s engagement?” she queried in a tiny voice, as though someone might overhear them even though they were completely alone in the monster penthouse apartment Myrna kept in downtown Charlotte.

“Why?” Again, Aly pushed herself up a smidge higher on the bed. When Myrna just watched her, she shrugged. “I mean, I’m happy....” She shook her head, certain that there was more to the question.

“I’m happy, too.” Myrna scooted to the edge of the chair. “But don’t you think it’s all a little too-too soon?”

“You’re asking this?” Alythia’s words were half matter-of-fact and half playful.

Myrna Fisher was one of the most sought-after lingerie models in the country. The fact that she was black made the accomplishment even more noteworthy. Still, for all Myrna’s savvy allure, her weakness was for relationships. It was well known that the lovely model didn’t go long without a man on her arm. The woman so adored relationships that she had a tendency to become suffocating—a thing most men didn’t handle well, regardless of the woman’s beauty.

Moreover, it did Myrna’s reputation no favors to end things with one adoring suitor only to have another one before the close of the following week.

Appearing somewhat offended by Alythia’s response, Myrna pushed off the chair and returned to holding outfit possibilities before herself in the mirror. “Unlike our friend, at least I don’t pick up random guys to take home.”

Alythia kept her eyes downcast, allowing wavy jaw-length tresses to shield her expression from Myrna’s sight. Myrna’s usual defense was one of many. To her, partners were significant others. No one seemed to have the heart to tell Myrna those “others” were significant only in her mind.

“People can change, Mur.”

“Sure they can, but do people change that much in the span of two weeks?”

“What do you know?” Alythia tilted her head in an attempt to spy Myrna’s actual face rather than its reflection in the mirror.

Myrna was cagey, pretending to be involved in her outfits. “There’s nothing that I can prove.” She suddenly whirled around to point a finger in Alythia’s direction. “And I’m not jealous.”

Aly didn’t think it was wise just then to challenge the vehement declaration as a lie in spite of what she saw lurking in Myrna’s brown eyes.

Alythia Duffy and her close circle of acquaintances had been friends since middle school. They’d been through tense times but always stuck up for each other and defended each other whether or not that defense was warranted.

Though with age came a certain clarity, Alythia thought to herself. There were times when one had to see another for what he or she really was. By all accounts, Orchid Benjamin’s reputation had been tarnished by one sexual disgrace after another since high school.

“I just don’t know if getting married is the best idea for her, that’s all,” Myrna continued.

Alythia, who was now seated in the middle of the bed with her legs folded beneath her, tuned back into Myrna’s diatribe. “Are you suggesting that we say something to change her mind about going through with the wedding?”

The question tugged Myrna’s rapt attention off the mirror and the gossamer lounge dress she was debating over. Again she looked to Alythia and gave a smug gaze. “I’ll reserve judgment till I get a bead on the happy couple during our fun-filled getaway.”

* * *

Gage Vincent was well respected; his reputation was well earned from his fellow industrial entrepreneurs. That respect turned into merited admiration with a hint of envy when the discussion fixed on his stunning success with the opposite sex. It was regarded with an abundance of love when his close circle of friends was in the vicinity.

Gage had known his riotous crew since the days of their rough-and-tumble boyhoods. College and grad school had split the foursome for several years but the bonds hadn’t been broken. The four often traded war stories over drinks, dinner, games of cards or games of a more athletic variety.

While not linked by business, Jayson Muns, Zeke Shepard and Dane Spears were quite appreciative of the fact that Gage’s business saved them the expense of having to purchase their own modes of air travel.

* * *

Orchid Benjamin wasn’t overly impressed. The private aircraft had bold silver streaks trekking both sides of the fuselage to meet at the fin to form the letters VID. Not that the plane wasn’t dumbfoundingly impressive and then some, Orchid thought. What gnawed at her was that her fiancé hadn’t had the good taste and judgment to purchase one of his own.

“I mean, what are we gonna do on future trips?” Orchid asked the woman who had exited the limo behind her. “I know he doesn’t expect me to fly commercial.” She shivered as though the idea were too awful to dwell upon.

“He probably didn’t see the need, Ork.” Myrna pulled sunglasses from her head and perched them across the bridge of her nose. “What for? When his best friend has three of them?”

The rationale apparently pacified Orchid enough. She ran across the tarmac to greet her intended with a throaty—and, in Myrna’s opinion, theatrical—kiss.

Two men stood a few feet away from the affectionate couple. Myrna immediately cast them as friends of the groom. As the other men in her line of sight were in some variation of uniforms, it was a logical guess. From the way they stood back on long legs, hand over mouths, heads inclined toward each other, it also wasn’t hard to guess the topic of their private chatter.

Myrna had been part of enough staged photo settings to have a fairly passable grasp on reading body language. Yep, she thought, Ork’s rep had surely preceded her on the trip. The surge of an approaching engine caught her ear and Myrna let go of a bit more of her apprehension. She released a purely girlish shriek and hurried over to greet the fourth member of their circle.

“How’d you guys manage to swing leaving town without the entire local media descending?” Jeena Stewart placed a hand across her brow while observing the jet in the distance.

“They say Gage Vincent can swing anything.” Myrna dropped a kiss on Jeena’s cheek when they pulled out of their embrace. “Guess that includes leaving town without the whole world knowing about it.”

Jeena nodded, sudden weariness drawing her face into a tight honey-toned mask. “I wish returning my phone calls were one of those things that he could swing.”

Myrna masked her smile, knowing Jeena would take it as an insult. Word was—and speculation ran high toward that word being fact—that Jeena Stewart owed her fortune to the world’s oldest profession. There was nothing anyone could prove, however. Part of the reason for unsubstantiation lay in the fact that Jeena could claim clients for her so-called dating service at local and national government levels, or so it was rumored. Additionally, the woman ran her business like a...well...like a business, with salary and benefits for employees—female and male.

Myrna thought it was all absurd, hence her suppressed, knowing smile. “Guess we’re about ready to take off.” She noted the limo driver passing off her luggage to a member of the baggage staff. “Of course, we’re still one short.” She spared another glance across the tarmac.

Jeena rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”

* * *

“Ah...dammit,” Alythia said in disgust.

She had hoped taking her car, as opposed to hiring a driver, might play into her excuse of bad traffic, which would have resulted in her missing out on the luxurious flight.

But to her dismay, she arrived at the airstrip to find the plane still waiting. A chorus of birds were chirping somewhere amid the late-morning air as if they meant to welcome her to fun and excitement. Alythia appreciated the welcome but all the while considered circling back to the interstate in hopes of getting caught up in a traffic jam—a tad unlikely at that time of day, but who knew? It all could work in her favor and she might get—

“Can I help you with those?”

Alythia turned, her jaw dropping while her eyes zoned out in a show of surprise.

“Lucky.” She breathed the completion of her thought aloud.

She wasn’t sure if the man who stood within touching distance had sparked such a reaction because of his height. She stood just shy of five-ten in her bare feet, but this guy had to be six-two at least. Sure, it could’ve been the height or the muscular build—more lean than massive. Alythia was more inclined to wager on the man’s remaining attributes.

Whoever he was, he had the most remarkable shade of skin, an unblemished tone of black coffee. The richness was offset by a long, steady brown gaze enhanced by overt gold flecks. His hair was straight textured and close-cropped. Thanks to the morning’s powerful sunrays, Alythia could tell that his hair was of the same deep brown as his eyes.

He was smiling and the curve of a beckoning sculpted mouth was made more attractive by the singular dimple accompanying it. Still, that stare of his was impossible to ignore and difficult to perceive as anything other than intensely observant. His gaze also lent a well-blended mixture of heat and cool to his smile.

“Are you okay?”

She heard him speaking to her, his smile carrying more heat when he leaned close to ask how she was. He extended a hand as if he meant to cup her elbow but barely let his thumb graze the bend of her arm.

Alythia ordered—no, begged—the sudden and completely uncharacteristic desire to moan to cease and desist with the pressure it applied to her larynx.

“I, um— I’m good,” she managed, and then followed up the lie with a laugh. “I was good before I got here and saw that my ride was kind enough not to leave without me.”

He roared into laughter, the sound causing Alythia to jump at the full honesty of it. Despite the contagious effect of the reaction, she winced when he looked her way.

“Sorry, I know I sound ungrateful,” she said.

Curiosity intermingled with his amusement. “Why do you think you’re ungrateful?”

“Most people dream of visiting the Caribbean.” She looked toward the jet once more. “Of those who have actually had those dreams come true, few get there on a private plane.”

“Um, could I take that stuff for you?” he inquired of her bags again before the dumbfounded amusement on his face started to make her feel uneasy.

“Sorry. Um...” Aly began to relinquish her bags. “Thanks for your help— Oh, wait.”

Easing the strap of a tan duffel over his shoulder, he watched her fumble through a plump midsize purse.

“Dammit...I knew I had a five or ten in here....”

“Hey.” He cupped her elbow that time. “There’s no need to tip me.”

Alythia blinked toward the plane. “I’m pretty sure you guys are way behind schedule because of me.”

“We’ll get there.” He voiced the soft reassurance while applying a light massage to the elbow he cupped. “They aren’t gonna leave without you.” He winced a little against the sun in his eyes when he glanced at the plane. “This is a vacation. No clocks. Say it. ‘No clocks.’”

“No clocks.” Alythia nodded in a hypnotic manner while repeating the phrase that sounded like heaven. “No clocks.” She gave in to a smile that demanded to be seen.

Clarity surged in the liquid chocolate of Gage Vincent’s stare and he realized that the woman standing before him had no idea that the plane was his or who he was for that matter.

He dipped his head to peer into Alythia’s eyes and observed her that way for several seconds. He nodded, evidently satisfied that her outlook was improving and more than a little captivated by the stunning shade of her gaze. He then took four of her five bags, effortlessly hoisting the straps across his shoulders and angling one at his neck.

Alythia held on to an overnight case—the smallest of the five. Her smile brightened in approval of the button-down shirt he wore. The short sleeves revealed the flex and ripple of well-toned muscle accentuated by the flawless café noir of his skin.

“Shall we?” He motioned her ahead with the hand secured about the handle of a boxy brown-and-beige case.

“Do you think your boss will be a jerk about me holding up the party?” Alythia asked once they were crossing the tarmac toward the waiting plane.

“You’re good.” He paused. “The man’s a sucker for women. Especially women who look like you.”

“Thank you.” Her words were delivered coolly enough even though his remark had threatened to halt her stride. “Um...will you be on the flight or...?”

“You’ll see me around.” He halted at the foot of the mobile stairway.

“Thank you.” Aly made no secret of the fact that she was attempting to memorize his face before she headed on up the steps leading into the plane.

Gage’s smile went from friendly to smoldering within seconds of Alythia’s exit. He thought her legs seemed to go on forever beneath the airy white skirt that flared above her knees. She wore an emerald racer-back tank that matched strappy sandals that added emphasis on trim ankles and shapely calves. Not until one of the actual baggage handlers interrupted his survey to ask for the cases did Gage look away.