It’s too harsh against my heated skin. He might’ve not touched me in a sexual way, but my body has already gotten the signals. My nipples are hard and pointy, and my core keeps freaking pulsing.
Stop it, damn you.
As he dries me, Jonathan takes his time running the towel against my aching nipples. I nearly topple over as I swallow the moans trying to slip through.
The spark in his eyes suggests he knows exactly what he’s doing to me and is doing it on purpose.
“You’ll talk, Aurora. If I have to use your body against you, I will.”
9
Jonathan
If you want something done, you should get your hands dirty.
I don’t do that — usually. I have no problem crushing people with lawful methods. I even like seeing them struggle to turn the law to their favour and fail.
The law stands with the strongest. And in this world, that’s me.
However, when lawful methods don’t work, it’s time to go to the other side of the wall.
Harris has been coming up blank with the identity of Aurora’s attacker, even by using the intel given to him by our top-notch security company.
Since the law-abiding security team didn’t bring anything, I find myself at the Rhodes estate.
The duke of the house, Tristan Rhodes, has agreed to my offer, as he should, considering I gave him a discount I wouldn’t present to anyone else. His family is returning to business in the near future and he needs any push he can get in the right direction.
I’m willing to enter a profitable partnership with him for what he’ll give me in return.
As Moses drives down the long, undulated road, Harris watches out the window, his calculative gaze lingering on the countless security guards stationed in each corner covering almost every surface of the property. Their grim faces and the metal glinting from their sides hint at the damage they can cause if they choose to attack.
“This is like a crime lord’s house, not a duke’s.” Harris faces me, his tablet lying on his lap for the first time in…well, ever. “Maybe we should consider other ways.”
“Its similarity with a crime lord’s residence is what makes it useful. I will not waste more time.”
The man who fucking stabbed Aurora will be brought to his knees in front of her sooner rather than later.
Harris scrolls through his tablet. “Okay, let’s go through the information we have one more time. Tristan and his cousin, Aaron Rhodes, are the only remaining members of the once-powerful Rhodes family. They spent most of their childhood and teenage years in a boarding school after a fire that wiped out the rest of their family, but there are rumours.”
“That they were betrayed and the fire was instigated. That information is going viral in the aristocratic community. Many say that Tristan and Aaron are back for revenge.”
“Correct, but I’ve been doing some more digging and…” He lifts his head and readjusts his glasses with his index and middle finger. “It’s rumoured that they’re trained in combat, which shouldn’t be the case since they’ve never been in the military.”
“Perfect. That means Tristan knows the people I need and won’t waste my time.”
“It means they’re dangerous, sir. Doing business with them is one thing, but getting involved in their secret lives is an entirely different territory.”
“If it gets me what I want, I don’t mind.”
“How about your principle of not taking risky decisions?”
“Risky decisions need to be made sometimes for better opportunities. Besides, Tristan is a businessman before anything else. He knows how to speak the language of profit.”
The car comes to a halt, and I step out, buttoning my jacket.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been here, but I usually come to the Rhodes estate with either guests or Ethan’s unwelcome presence to conclude business deals.
A security man motions at me to go into the northern wing. There are four wings in the estate, and Tristan always welcomes his guests in this one.
The other wings sit majestically in the distance — eastern, western, and southern — forming a massive rectangular shape. Despite the effort Tristan and Aaron have spent in turning this place into what resembles a palace, there’s a certain haunting quality to the Rhodes estate.
It’s probably because of the fire and the number of people who lost their lives in it.
It reeks of death; I can smell it no matter how many flowers and perfumes are used to mask it.
A statue of a knight on a black horse sits majestically in the middle of the reception hall. Another statue, a black jaguar with blue gems as eyes, stares down his nose at me.
That’s another weird quirk of the Rhodes’. They actually raise live jaguars as pets.
I follow the security man up the sweeping marble stairs until we reach Tristan’s office. He stops, straightening as if he needs to be presentable for the task, before he knocks on the door.
“Come in,” Tristan’s levelled voice reaches us from the inside.
The buff man opens the door and nods at me to go in. As soon as I enter, the door closes. I have no doubt the security team member will stay in front of the office in case I pose a threat to his employer.
Not that I would. He’s an ally, and I take good care of my allies.
Tristan isn’t behind his large desk. He’s casually sitting in the lounge area, reading from a newspaper. He’s wearing a dark blue striped suit. Italian. Interesting. Nobles usually prefer English cut suits, but Tristan is an exception to his title in many ways.
He and his cousin have black hair and dark eyes that differentiates them in a crowd. Although Tristan is in his mid-thirties, he has the mind of someone much older. The most fascinating part is that he doesn’t like to show it — almost as if he’s living a secret life, as Harris suggested.
Upon my arrival, he neatly folds the newspaper and slides it onto the table, showcasing his family crest ring that rests on his index finger. Taking his time, he stands up and buttons his jacket. “Jonathan, welcome.”
I take his hand in a firm handshake. “Your Grace.”
“We’re past the titles’ nonsense. Tristan is enough.” He motions at the chesterfield sofa across from him. “Please.”
I unbutton my jacket and sit down, acutely noticing that the contact he said would be waiting for me isn’t here.
“Do you want anything to drink?”
My gaze discreetly takes in my surroundings, so I commemorate details in case there’s a need for an escape plan. I might consider Tristan an ally, but I never allow myself to get too comfortable. “I’ll take cognac on ice.”
“Excellent choice.” He strides across to his minibar and pours us both a drink. And while I know he prefers scotch, he returns with two cognacs.
That’s a good tactic to show how open-minded he is, and to put me at ease in return. Only, I never leave myself unprotected.
He pauses near the open balcony that’s directly opposite me before he settles across from me. Well, well…
“Have I shown up early?” I take a sip of my drink.
“No, not at all. Perfect timing as usual, Jonathan.” Cradling the drink in his hand, he leans his elbows on his knees. “I just thought we could talk about your needs before I put you in contact with my man.”