Honor Bound (3 page)

Now he sat down on the corner of his desk with his arms crossed. “Look, your mother has informed me that I need to humor you right now. You were hurt while you were deployed, and some soldiers have a hard time adjusting to life back in the real world. I get it.”

I knew that he didn’t, but I wanted to hear the rest of his little observation.

“I’m going to let this go on for only so long, Sebastian. You’re a Maxwell. And this,” he gestured to the office at large, “is where we work. It’s where we’ve worked for three generations, and I’ll be damned if you’re going to go off and play at being some sort of servant, while I have to wait for you to come to your senses.”

“I’m not playing at anything. Security is what I do now. Not this.” My words were curt and to the point, but I could see that the old man wasn’t the least bit intimidated or impressed.

“I tolerated your enlisting and becoming a Marine. I was angry at first but then it seemed to impress people when I told them, so it was a good PR move. I lost count of how many times people told me that what you were doing was honorable. But now that you’re home, you can play hero while doing the job that you were born to do. You don’t need to prove anything else. You survived serving in the war, and it’s enough now. You belong here.”

He just didn’t get it. He never had. And I realized right then and there that I could talk until I was blue in the face, and it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference. I was going to have to actually
show
him.

“No.
You
belong here.” I turned to walk out of the office but turned back when he called out my name.

“You have this commitment to Gentry, and I’ll let you have it. But if you walk out that door now without apologizing and committing to a schedule here at the company, you’ll never get another referral from me for your business. If anything, I’ll make sure that no one in this city ever uses your services.”

He stood there, looking smug, and I wanted to run over and choke him until he saw things my way for once. He thought he won. He thought he had me over a barrel. I took a step toward him. And then another.

“If all of your referrals are going to be for babysitting services, then I don’t want your help.” His eyes widened for the merest of seconds—I almost thought I’d imagined it—and then they were merely slits.

Oh, shit.

“I can see that you’re not ready to be reasonable on this just yet. So I guess it’s up to me—yet again.” He walked back around his desk and sat down, reached for his glasses, then his report before looking up at me. “Finish this business with Gentry. And then we’ll talk.”

I wanted to argue. I really did. But I knew that I needed to talk to the guys first. I didn’t want to be the reason for us getting blacklisted even before we had the chance to get our business off the ground.

What the old man was doing was what he did best.

Blackmail. Plain and simple.

When John Maxwell didn’t get his way, he threatened and used intimidation tactics to get his way.

I just never thought he’d stoop so low as to use them on his own son.

I’d know better from now on.

Ali

It was Friday before I could get back to the Gentry house again.

Cheryl had a dozen other events in the works at the moment, and half of them were happening sooner than Gentry’s charity gala. But fortunately there was a ton of work to do on-site to prepare for the gala, and I was the drudge who got to do things like taking measurements and drawing the layout of the event spaces. On Friday, I convinced Cheryl that this needed to be done as my top priority, so I got to go back to the house—this time, by myself.

Gentry wasn’t at home today, which meant his normal entourage wasn’t either. So the only people I needed to avoid were the regular domestic staff, which seemed to consist of a couple of people. A housekeeper let me in and just pointed me in the direction of the ballroom.

This was going to be perfect. I’d have my run of the house without anyone getting in the way or getting suspicious.

Sebastian Maxwell wouldn’t be here either today, which I told myself firmly was a good thing.

I definitely couldn’t think about him any more than I already had, not if I wanted to complete my mission and get justice for my family.

I had to start in the ballroom—which would be the main event space—or it would look strange, even just to the housekeeper. So I rushed through the layout and measurements of that large room and then the terrace and pool area before I could finally let myself explore the rest of the house.

I started in the east wing, where I found a formal dining room, which got just a cursory investigation. Then I entered the library.

The library was one of old-fashioned kind with wood paneling, built-in bookshelves, and big, antique furniture. It looked like it belonged in an English mystery, in which there would naturally be hidden safes or secret tunnels.

It was obviously a public room, though, which meant there was almost no chance of Gentry hiding any incriminating work information in it.

Even so, it would be stupid not to look around, since I was here. I checked the desk drawers and then the historic trunk against the wall. All of them were empty, so evidently this whole room was just for show.

Gentry probably never even bothered to read all the classic books that lined the shelves.

He was no doubt too busy cheating and swindling and destroying people’s lives to sit down and read a book.

I walked over to the shelves and felt a strange sense of yearning as I scanned the titles. I hadn’t read very many of them. I’d always assumed I would read more classics in college and graduate school, but I’d never gotten that far.

On a silly whim, I pulled a leather-bound copy of Darwin’s
Descent of Man
partway off the shelf at my eye-level. If this really were an English mystery, a hidden door would pop open to reveal a tunnel or secret room.

Nothing happened. Of course.

I walked past the fireplace and pulled out another book—this one a copy of
Villette
, which I had to reach up for. Bronte was no more successful than Darwin at revealing secrets.

Unable to try one more time before I moved on, I leaned over to grab a copy of
Seven Dials Mystery
. If anything levered the hidden door, then Agatha Christie would.

She didn’t. I hadn’t really expected her too, but it was still a little disappointing.

“Sadly, Agatha Christie doesn’t open a secret door.”

The male voice was familiar but so startling that I gasped and straightened up with a jerk.

Naturally, I hit my head on the edge of a shelf, since I popped up so quickly.

“Ouch,” I said, rubbing my head and turning around, knowing exactly who I would see.

And there he was, looking just as handsome and having just as warm a smile on his lips, in his eyes, as he had the other day.

I was uncomfortably aware of the fact that this was twice that he’d caught me with my butt prominently displayed.

“I wasn’t looking for a secret door,” I said, knowing even as I said it that he’d never believe me. What else could I have been doing pulling out three random books in a row for no reason?

His smile broadened, and it was like sunshine breaking from the clouds, transforming his face in a way that took my breath away. “Of course, you weren’t. But, if you were, I’d check Dickens on the right side of the mantle.”

I slanted him a questioning look, but his smile had lessened into a look of encouragement. He didn’t appear to be teasing me, so I walked over to look at the row of beautifully bound Dickens novels. “Which one?”

“
Old Curiosity Shop
.”

I reached up and tilted out the book, feeling a silly sort of thrill that this library did house some sort of secret compartment, room, or tunnel.

Old Curiosity Shop
is a large volume, if you’ve never actually picked it up before. I pulled it out by the top, which was the way hidden doors were always opened in books and movies. Instead of catching some sort of mechanism, the book fell all the way off the shelf and fell with a loud bang to the floor.

I stared down in surprise at the book on the polished wood floor.

After a few seconds, I heard Sebastian chuckling softly behind me, and I realized what happened.

The bastard was teasing me. He thought it was hilarious that I’d fallen for it. He was just having fun with me.

I was such a little idiot.

I whirled around and glared at him, which just made him laugh even more. He walked over so he was standing right next to me, his eyes soft like they’d been the other day.

It was really hard to be mad at a guy who was looking at you like that, but I did my best.

“It’s not funny,” I said, although it was maybe just a little funny. “I thought you were serious.”

“I know you did.” He leaned over and picked up the Dickens novel from the floor and slid it back into the shelf. “It does look like a library that should have secret tunnels—or at least a hidden bar—but no such luck. Gentry doesn’t have that much imagination.”

“Oh.” Something about the way he said it gave me a shiver of hope, since it didn’t sound like he even liked Ken Gentry.

Maybe he wasn’t like his father and grandfather and uncle and all the other Maxwells, who used people for what they needed until they’d used them up.

“What are you doing in here anyway?” he asked, standing just a little closer than polite personal space would call for. He seemed inordinately big and hard, and I was tempted to reach out to touch his shoulder or chest.

Fortunately, I resisted the silly impulse.

“I need to get the layout and measurements so we can finalize our plans. People might wander into this room, and Cheryl is really big on making sure all areas are ready for guests.”

I thought that was a very good excuse and sounded perfectly plausible. I even showed him the sketch pad and measuring tape I held. I was quite pleased with myself, since espionage clearly wasn’t a natural gift of mine.

“I would have thought you’d have a laser measurer,” he said, sounding casual as he glanced down at my paraphernalia. “Cheryl seemed like she’d have top-of-the-line everything.”

He’d taken the right measure of Cheryl in about two minutes. I suddenly wondered what his conclusions had been about me.

“She does have one of those,” I said. “But it’s on the fritz, so I had to use mine. I’m more old-fashioned than she is.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, leaning in a little closer to me until he was definitely in my space. “I kind of figured that.”

His eyes were suddenly hotter than warm, and I held my breath as I gazed up at him. It looked like he was going to kiss me, and I desperately wanted him to.

Then I ducked my head and tried to get my mind to work again. I’d just met this guy. Guys didn’t up and kiss you after talking to you for less than fifteen minutes. And, even if they did, I could definitely not kiss
this
guy. He was a Maxwell, and he’d had his life handed to him on a silver platter, while his family took everything away from my family.

“So were you going to measure the books?” he asked, his voice a little huskier than before.

“What?”

“You said you were here to take measurements, so I was wondering if you were going to measure the books.”

“Oh. No.” I stared down at the tape measure in my hand. “I just got distracted, since it looked so much like one of those old libraries.”

He chuckled again, softer this time. “So you
were
looking for secret doors?”

I couldn’t help it. I had to look back up at him. Then I couldn’t look away from his beautiful green eyes, which seemed to be full of admiration, interest, and humor. “Maybe a little,” I admitted.

“That’s what I thought.”

I have no idea how long I would have stood there like a statue, staring up at him, swaying slightly, waiting for something to happen.

My phone rang then, though, and I jerked in surprise before I reached to answer it.

It was Cheryl, who had about ten questions and twenty-five suggestions for me to do while I was at the house—all of them vague and mostly unhelpful. I waved in Sebastian’s direction when he started to leave the room, trying to feel relieved that he was gone.

I didn’t feel relieved, though. I felt disappointment.

I really needed to get it together and remember priorities.

***

An hour later, I’d done all of the real work I’d come here to do, but I wanted to make sure to scout out the home office while I was here.

I knew Gentry had to have an office in the house. And that would be the most likely location for any incriminating information I could find.

So I left the east wing and wandered into the west wing, holding the sketch of the layout of the house I’d been creating and trying to look like I was doing what I was supposed to do.

No one was around. I hadn’t seen Sebastian since the library, so I assumed he had left. He wouldn’t have any reason to hang around here all morning, when Gentry wasn’t even in residence.

I was planning to be careful, though. No sense to rush headlong into potential danger, just because the coast looked clear.

I found a few guest bedrooms until I got to the back of the wing, where I discovered a workout room and, across the hall, a door that opened into what was clearly an office. There was a big walnut desk, computer, printer, and other office equipment, and a huge walnut credenza with what looked like file drawers.

Perfect.

I closed the door behind me and went to the desk, but there were no notes of any kind on the desktop, and the top drawers just held pens and paper and assorted supplies.

The bottom two drawers were locked.

The computer was turned off, of course, so I went to the credenza. The file drawers were all locked too.

I checked out the locks, as if I could somehow figure out how to pick them.

This was purely wishful thinking because I was about as clueless about lock-picking as you can be.

At least I knew where the office was, though, and what was in it, so I could make a plan for getting into it later on, after I had time to do some thinking.

Satisfied I’d at least taken a step in the right direction, I was heading for the door when I saw it start to open.

I had about three seconds to act, and I did the only thing that crossed my mind. I extended my tape measure partway and bent over, acting like I was just rolling it back up as the door opened all the way.

“What are you doing in here?” Sebastian asked as I stood up and looked back at him, trying to put on a look of casual interest, as if I wasn’t worried at all about his arrival here.

I’d known it would be Sebastian. Who else would appear without warning, just where I didn’t want him?

“I told you. I’m supposed to take measurements and the layout of the whole house.” I showed him my sketch pad again, as if that would be evidence enough.

“But guests won’t be back here.” He didn’t look angry, but there wasn’t a smile in his eyes, the way there had been on the other two times I’d seen him. “This is a private office.”

For some stupid reason, I missed that smile in his eyes.

“I know.” I tried for a slightly resigned tone. “But Cheryl wants the plan of the entire house, whether we’ll be using it for the event or not. I hope that’s okay.” I widened my eyes. “Should I not be back here?”

“Probably not.” The smile sparked in his eyes again, and he put a hand on my back to lead me out of the room. “Just make things up on the plans for the private areas. She’ll never know if they’re accurate or not.”

I giggled at his dry tone, and it wasn’t entirely for the pretense.

I’d never expected a Maxwell to be so warm and funny and almost sweet.

I wondered if it was real or not. It
felt
real, but that didn’t mean it was.

“So you’re a Maxwell?” I asked, as we walked down the hall together. I figured, if I’d met him innocently, it would have been something I might have asked anyway. “I mean, one of
the
Maxwells?”