Chapter One
The world, it wasn't black and white.
It wasn't a clean dichotomy of good and evil, right and wrong.
It was shades upon shades of gray, and I owned that gray.
And it was that gray which left me with little more reaction than an exasperated sigh when I found my girlfriend on her knees in my Capitol Riverfront apartment, sucking off my biggest competitor in the private military and security contracting industry.
One red-soled shoe was on the hardwood floor beside her, the other nearby, tangled in the straps of her Gucci purse. Her white-blonde hair had none of its usual precise styling, and that was all the proof I needed that she was working hard on the job at hand.
Most people would condemn Jocelyn. They'd call her a cheating whore. An evil bitch. A lying slut who couldn't keep her whoring and slutting out of my living room.
But me?
I didn't care enough to form an opinion. If I couldn't find the energy to care, then I couldn't exactly condemn her either. And there it was: the gray.
There was neither right nor wrong. No angels, no demons.
"Don't mind me," I said, slamming the door behind me.
"Kaisall," he—Toby Renner—boomed. He gestured to me in greeting as if this situation was both normal and appropriate for collegial conversation. It was neither. "What a pleasant surprise. Good to see you again, young man."
That anyone could articulate words beyondyes,more,God, anddon't stopwhile on the receiving end of that kind of gratification was a crime. Either the offerings weren't good, or the goods weren't worth the offering.
And he was sure to tack on theyoung manquip. It wasn't about age but superiority. Renner stole it any way he could, even with his white briefs and khakis around his knees. His black polo shirt—emblazoned with his firm's ever-present and fully obnoxious spider logo—was stretched taut against his chest and arms, at least a size too small. It was all part of his gimmick, the shticky way he asserted his dominance without much to back it up.
I fucking hated the guy.
"As you were, sailor," I said, gritting my teeth.
Despite the shtick, Renner was one of the big dogs. He'd been in business since washing out of SEAL training—not everyone had the balls to make it through—but made a name on his ability to surround himself with the right people. He'd picked up major contracts during the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and beat me out for major protection details. He wasn't especially good at anything, but he gave plenty of people the impression that he was.
Based on the show in front of me, his dick followed that strategy, too.
I dropped my luggage from the past week's trip to the Middle East in the foyer without sparing another glimpse at Renner's pale ass and strode into my bedroom. Or, as much striding as a guy with titanium plates and rods in his leg could manage without affecting a pirate-styled limp.
There was no way in Satan's cozy hell that I'd limp in front of either of those cocksuckers right now.
Jocelyn was the kind of woman who dug in by inches. She started out as an entertaining fix-up who gradually claimed spots in every corner of my life until she was introducing herself as my fiancée. There'd been no ring, no bended knee, no popped question. By my math, that did not an engagement make, but she liked thesoundof fiancée better, and I just didn't give a good shit. That, and she was talking about selling her Arlington, Virginia townhouse because she'd invited herself to move in while I was in South Korea last month. I'd already asked her to pump the brakes on that one.
She could be my fake fiancée to her heart's content, but I drew the line at cohabitation. No sleepovers here. I wasn't interested in that shit.
It wasn't like I'd been leading poor little Joss along either. I was loud and clear about my disinterest in anything involving the termsserious,long term, orrelationship. None of that worked for me, and she'd insisted she was down for the same program.
Obviously, she wasnotdown for that program.
But I hadn't been able to find the time to break things off with her. It was a dick move for me to have kept it going a minute longer than necessary, but she'd deserved better than an email or text. That, and I was somewhat certain she'd set fire to my suits if I dumped her while I was out of the country.
I was throwing clothes into a bag when Jocelyn poked her head inside. "About that—"
"Don't really want to hear the details, Joss," I said, grabbing a handful of boxers from the drawer. I'd never given any thought to another man's underwear, but right now I was really fucking pleased that Renner and I were on opposite sides of the boxers vs. briefs divide. "I only ask that you keep the semen off the rugs. That shit stains."
"Let me explain. It's not what you think," she said, sitting on the corner of my bed. Her lipstick was smudged and her mascara had run, but there wasn't an ounce of remorse in her expression. She was wearing one of those blouses, the kind that was nearly see-through and somehow office appropriate. She was like that, always playing her own shades of gray.
Working for the pharma lobby would do that to you.
"I'm not thinking about it at all," I said, shoving more clothes into the bag. I had no idea what I was packing, and it didn't matter. This only served as an outlet for my annoyance. "But it's time for you and Renner to get on out of here, yeah?"
