Dirty Little Promise (Forbidden Desires #2)

Again, it was a video. This time a woman with enormous coiffed hair glowered at the camera as she screeched, her nostrils flared. A photo of Stella was embedded on the screen beside her.

“What sort of morality are we allowing into our city? This company—Forbidden Desires—claims that they’re an upscale escort service for wealthy men in need of dates, but let’s call a spade a spade, huh? This is legalized prostitution right here in Boston, and nobody is doing anything about it. And, if we look at the evidence, who knows what else they could be doing? We don’t know where the drugs came from that were in the senator’s possession. This Forbidden Desires place could be an underground drug ring, for all we know.”

I clicked off the phone and shoved it back in my pocket. I’d seen everything I needed to.

With news like this, we had to get ahead of the story—and fast. Which meant, as the face of the company, I had to get back to Boston and deal with the groundswell of outrage that was probably already threatening to beat down our doors.

In a daze, I made my way to the pool and spotted Emma with oversized movie-star-style sunglasses covering the majority of her face as she read a book with some guy with rippling muscles on the cover. She didn’t notice me until I was standing over her, covering her in my shadow.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, a concerned frown knitting her brows. “I thought you were going to be golfing all day.”

“I was going to, but something’s happened. We need to go back to Boston. Right now.”

“Is everything okay?” Her eyes went wide and her cheeks paled. “Are your brothers—”

“Everyone is safe and healthy, but there’s a business emergency. We’re going up to the room to pack. Let’s go.”

Without another word of protest, Emma gathered her things and followed me to the suite as I dialed the pilot to inform the jet crew to prep for the flight. When the arrangements were made, I shot a quick message to Quinn to let him know I was on my way, then considered doing the same for Cooper.

Why hadn’t he messaged me about this? Avoiding me over Emma was one thing, but this was serious business.

Shaking my head, I shoved my phone back in my pocket and opened the suite door to let Emma inside.

“I’m still mostly packed,” she said.

“Me too. The crew should be ready in twenty minutes.” I messaged my driver, then called the front desk to pick up our bags.

“Are you hungry?” I asked her. “Do you need anything to eat before we go?”

Emma shook her head. “No. Look, I know you’re in the middle of something major, but I just want to know what’s happening. I’m scared.”

She was pacing in front of the windows, and I felt like shit for making her panic.

“Right.” I speared a hand through my hair. “Of course, you would be. I’m sorry. I’m just in crisis mode. Please sit down.”

Quickly, I told her about the news story and then about the more colorful media commentary on the event.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“Something like this must have happened before, though, right? I mean, you can’t micromanage everyone you hire.” Emma frowned and shook her head.

“But we can do thorough background checks,” I said. “We never let in girls with drug problems. Not after . . .”

I stopped myself, but the look in Emma’s eyes let me know she understood.

“Anyway, we drug test everyone. She must have gotten through the cracks, or else this was a first and she went along to try to fit in.”

“It could have been worse,” Emma reminded me. “Someone could’ve died or there could’ve been a car accident. This is bad, I know. But . . .”

I nodded and stroked her hair, feeling slightly better at her words. “I know. It could have been worse.”

My phone buzzed, letting me know our driver was outside just as the bellhop arrived to take our bags. I motioned to them and tipped the guy handsomely before ushering Emma from the room and heading for the elevators again. Already, my head was swimming with a million media tactics, ways to get out in front of this thing and show the world that we were a decent, legitimate business.

“It might just be a matter of letting the news cycle find something else juicer and hoping people forget,” Emma offered as the sleek elevator dropped toward the first level.

“Maybe,” I said, placing my hand against her spine, but I didn’t think so.

A company like ours had always been a risk, but my brothers and I had relied on both the discretion of our clients, and our girls and our books being squeaky clean to prove ourselves. But now that we were out in the public, especially tied to drugs? Wealthy men wouldn’t want their names linked with our company.

Emma’s voice broke through my thoughts. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

We made our way to the car, readying ourselves for another stress-filled flight. Luckily, Emma seemed to understand. After we boarded the plane and took off, she didn’t bother to comment or ask more questions. She merely took out her phone and distracted herself, probably reading stories about the incident to better understand the severity of the situation.

In truth, I should have been doing the same thing. I should have been scouring the Internet, looking for all mentions of the company to see exactly what I was dealing with, but I was in too much shock to bother. The ripple effect of a story like this might dog us for the rest of our days. A black mark this big? We might have to fold if we couldn’t scrub it out.

I thought of Alyssa and Sonja, and the rest of the girls we employed. This was sending all their lives into chaos, not just mine.

But then, as panic started to overtake me, Emma’s voice would fill my head again. “You’ll figure it out.”

Offering me a sad smile, she rose from her seat and stood behind me, pressing her fingers to my temples and stroking lightly.

Her faith in me was staggering. Offering her comfort, even though we didn’t know quite where we stood yet as a couple? That meant the world to me.

I would figure this out. I wouldn’t just cave because things had taken a wrong turn. That’s not how this company had been built. There were too many people counting on me.

• • •

When we finally landed, I instructed my driver to take Emma to her brownstone.

She scooted to the edge of the limo seat, then glanced at me, her mouth quirked into a sad half smile. “I really think you’re going to get ahead of this. You’re brilliant. You just need some time to think. Take as much time as you need, but call me and tell me what’s going on, okay?”

I nodded as she stepped from the car and clicked the door shut behind her, leaving me to forge into the heart of downtown and face this thing head-on.

As I expected, a small crowd of busybodies already stood outside the building alongside reporters clamoring desperately for a comment. I ignored them all as I pushed through the rotating glass doors and headed for my floor, knowing Quinn and a task force of publicists would likely be waiting for me upstairs.

Deep in thought, I made my way to my office, ignoring the searching glances of Sonja and Alyssa, and found exactly what I’d been expecting. Quinn was sitting at my desk, talking quickly and quietly with Fiona, the publicist we kept on retainer for these sorts of eventualities.

What I hadn’t expected, however, was the man sitting across from Quinn, listening intently to whatever they were saying.