THIRTY-ONE - Alana

THIRTY-ONE

Alana

The lower part of my abdomen has ached all freaking day. Not like, hey, this is sexy, but more like, ugh, I want to throw up, but I don't have the energy. In fact, my entire lower half throbs and I try to ignore it as I sit once again in the quiet basement of my apartment complex, with Ella typing happily away.

It's just the two of us since she lives in this basement. It's too risky for either Merlin or Rosalie to try the hidden entrance with so much security watching the building. I miss seeing Merlin but would rather he stay safe.

I'm sitting in the middle of the room, flipping through data Ella printed out for me regarding Malice Media and garnets. There's nothing here that helps me decipher what is so important about those garnets he traded me for.

I'd love to get something on him. As much as I'd like to defy him, I took a cold shower and then came to work without bringing out my vibrator. Not that I'm afraid. No. Not at all.

My skull even aches. A withheld orgasm really sucks. Shaking my head, I bring myself into the present moment. "What's up between you and Nico?"

Ella looks up. "What?"

"That's a pretty blush," I murmur.

She rolls her eyes. "Fine. Nothing is up. I mean, we ran into each other a couple of weeks ago at a coffee shop and sat for a while. He's handsome and has that intense thing going on."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugs. "You've been pretty busy and also so sad about Greg. I doubt Nico is really interested, so why bring it up?"

"He'd be nuts not to be interested."

Her smile is cute, and I instantly start plotting how to get them in the same room.

She starts typing again. "I love gaining entry to the Aquarius Social servers. Love it."

Now that I'm on the board of directors, I have access in a way that I didn't before, and I've handed it all over to her. She is currently hunting through everybody's corporate records and private emails. "You find anything relating to Greg's death?" I ask.

"Your cousin Quinlan likes to talk dirty," she says, still typing.

I straighten. "What do you mean, he likes to talk dirty?"

"He's got at least three girlfriends and, believe me, he has some creative ideas."

I barely bite back a groan. "He shouldn't be typing that kind of thing in company emails. Lesson one in all business transactions is don't put it in writing. Everybody knows that."

"Yeah. Well, they don't seem to mind. Ooh," she whispers. "A couple of these women should write romances. Oh, hey, one does, Lexi somebody. Ooh, I have to make a mental note to buy some of her books."

"Ella," I say. "Get back on track."

"I can do three things at once," Ella says.

That's actually true. Multitasking is just an urban myth for most people; however, not for Ella. I've seen her do three things equally well at a time. It's impressive. I don't have that gift.

Her fingers slow on the keys. "You haven't posted and asked for stars today. Why? Are you having no emotions?"

I chuckle but the sound is pained. I'm having more emotions than I can decipher, and they all center on Thorn Beathach. I'm pretty sure the summation of the emotions is that I want to kill him. Well, I'm feeling pretty brave and angry right now, but I haven't disobeyed his order. When he issues a threat, he means it.

Heat flies into my face and I ignore it. "Ella, please tell me you found something on my brother's death."

"I have," she muses, slowing her typing even more. "Your father has hired three different private detectives to look into the so-called accident."

I knew it. If there is any question about Greg's death, my father would never let it lie.

"Why isn't he working with the authorities?" Ella asks.

"That's not how the four families operate. Laws and countries and people come and go," I murmur. "The four families are forever."

"You're right. We happen to live here now, but we make up our own laws," Ella says wearily. "I can't believe Thorn might marry one of my stupid stepsisters."

"He's not," I burst out before I can stop myself.

She chuckles. "I thought so. Are you going to fight for your man?"

"He's not mine," I retort quickly.

"Huh," she says, sounding utterly unconvinced. "Okay, so I've hacked into one of the detective agency's servers. The defenses on it are laughable."

I perk up.

She just pauses. Then she pushes away from the computer and turns to face me. "You sure you want to know all of this?"

"Of course I'm sure."

She winces. "All right. Your father didn't bury Greg at the funeral." She speaks slowly as if trying to find a better word each time one comes out of her mouth.

A dull roar echoes in my ears. "Excuse me?" The coffin was closed, but I figured that was just because Greg had been beaten up pretty badly in the accident.

"Yes. Mathias sent Greg's body to a specialized coroner in DC. I can't imagine the strings he had to pull to do that." She shakes her head. "Anyway, this coroner determined . . ." She turns back to read the monitor. "The cause of death was blunt force trauma to the temporal lobe." She squints and leans closer to the screen. "Okay, so the coroner found a contusion on Greg's right temple." She looks over at me as if to gauge my state of mind and I nod. "There's evidence of a depressed skull fracture at the impact site leading to intracranial injury."

I gulp. "What else?"

"Toxicology report shows a blood alcohol level of 1.5. It's not a lot, but it's some," she reads.

"What's the conclusion?" I ask, my chest compressing.

She tilts her head. "Cause of death attributed to complications from blunt force trauma to the temple leading to significant intracranial injury. Most likely not from a car rolling over a cliff."

I can't breathe. "Not?"

"The coroner doesn't say for sure." She scrolls to another screen. "But she does say that the impact is small and definite. It's defined in the skull."

"But she can't tell what caused the injury?" I ask.

"That's all there is," Ella says. "At the bottom of this sheet there's a note that a phone call will take place to discuss the findings." She sits back. "The phone call would've happened two weeks ago."

The ache in my stomach turns to strong cramps. I can't believe this. "What else do you have?"

"I'm still looking," she says. "I'll break into the records of the other two private detectives, but it looks like your father is careful to conduct most business either face-to-face or over, I'm sure, very secure phone lines. I don't know that we're going to find much in these servers."

I rub my left temple. Why hasn't my father told me any of this? "Is that it?" I ask, trying to sound in control of myself.

A small smile plays on her pink lips. "I did hack Nico pretty easily."

"You didn't hack him. I gave you the keys to the entire system."

"Well, I guess that's true."

Enough. "Find anything good?"

"Yeah. He has reached out to several private detectives as well, but I don't see anything interesting that he hasn't already told you."

I like that Nico is up front with me. My father could take lessons from him. "What about Quinlan?" I ask. "I mean besides the dirty talk."

"Nothing," she says. "He does have a lot of pictures on his terminal, of family, pictures that go way back."

"Really?" I ask, standing.

"Yeah." She brings them up.

I smile when I see all the people, many I recognize, at a lake cabin. "Wow, that must be some sort of family reunion."

"Is that you?" She points to a baby held in my mother's arms.

"It is me." My hair was a wild mess even then. I look around. "Wow. We really did get together a lot."

Quinlan has an arm over my mom's shoulders. He mentioned they were close. He and Nico appear muddy with a football on the ground between them.

I smile and wish I could remember the good times. "They look happy. If I was around two, then they would've been maybe twelve or so. Is that Scarlett?" I lean in. She's pretty in a white dress, and yet it's obvious she's about to go for the football.

Ella stares at the picture. "Is it weird having more people on the board of directors?"

"Yes," I say. "But it might be good, since we're family." I pause as I think through her family drama. I know she misses her deceased father every day, and since her stepmother has discarded her, family is a four-letter word for her. "Oh wait, I didn't mean . . ."

She waves a hand in the air. "Don't worry about it. I don't consider Sylveria or the sniping sisters family."

"I can't believe they stole all of the company from you," I mutter.

"Someday I'll own the whole thing," she says.

I nod. "I agree and I'm going to help you."

She flattens her hands on her jean-clad thighs. "For now, let's figure out who killed your brother. Do you want to order pizza? It's way past dinnertime."

I glance at my watch. "I can't. I have a late dinner date."

She turns around and stares at me, her eyes wide behind the thick glasses. "You're going out with Thorn?"

"No, I'm going out with Cal Sokolov. I think I can talk him into some sort of arrangement between the families that will benefit both companies." My father has insisted, and I did promise to try.

"Does Thorn know?" she asks.

I lift my chin. "No. He's not in charge of my life." My phone buzzes and I lift it to my ear. "Hello."

"Hi." Just the sound of Thorn's voice sends shards of recognition through my entire body. While it was slumbering before, now it's wide-awake.

"What do you want?" I ask, sounding like a churlish teenager.

"I want to know if you've been a good girl. Have you touched yourself?" His voice is the rasping of sandpaper across old wood.

My clit tingles. "None of your business."

"We both know that isn't true."

Tension grips my nipples and they sharpen. "I'm busy, Thorn."

"Watch it, baby. I owe you three more withholds, and you want some space between them."

I can't help but rub my thighs together. The man is killing me. Plus, I have to go home and get ready for my date with Cal—something I'm not going to share with Thorn. "Fine. Bless your heart. It's so nice to hear from you, Mr. Beathach. What can I possibly do to make your life easier?"

His chuckle nearly sends me into an orgasm. "You're attending that stupid charity tech ball with me. Get a dress, and I'll pay for it."

I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks as I blush. "That is not how you ask a woman on a date."

"I'm not asking."

"You're actually going to a public event," I say slowly.

His sigh is loud enough that I almost feel the air against my skin. "According to my brother, it's necessary at this point."

"You need user interactions to gain more energy," I say smugly.

"Apparently." He doesn't sound amused.

The idea of seeing him at a masquerade ball is way too enticing. "Since you didn't ask, I don't have to give an answer. However, I am attending, so I might see you there."

"That will be fine. But remember whose date you are." He clicks off.

"Huh." I look at the phone.

Ella chuckles. "You were saying that Thorn is not in charge of your life."

"He's not." I shove the phone in my handbag. Of course, he's right. My orgasms, for the moment, seem to be controlled by him.

Jackass.