Page 130 of Resist

“Perfect timing.”

She smiles, and then I watch and wait for her reaction as she takes a bite of the famed lobster rolls. Her eyes fly up to mine, and a moan sounds off deep in her throat.

“Keep making that sound, Sanders . . . ,” I murmur as memories of last night and that sound come back instantly.

She smiles at me as she wipes her mouth with her napkin, her cheeks flushing pink.

“Archer Collins. Is he of the Collins Distillery Collinses?” I ask.

“The one and only.”

“How do you know him?”

She eyes me and laughs. “He’s gay. You don’t need to get territorial.”

“I’m aware, and I wasn’t.” I lift a brow.

“Archer and I . . .” She sighs and looks around at the tables near us before staring at the food in her hand.

“That bad, huh?” I tease but hate that she’s hesitating.

“Let’s just say he helped me set up my company.” When she lifts her eyes to meet mine, there is nothing but honesty reflected in them.

“He what?”

She laughs. “I know. You wouldn’t think so . . . but we met in Atlantic City. He was there as a salesman for his dad during his dad’s you have to try your hand at real work phase, and we met. Became friends and stayed in touch. When Sam . . . when Sam fell down the rabbit hole and then . . . you know, he was the one I got drunk with and cried to. He was the one who made a comment about a friend he knew who was an escort and made a fortune.”

“No shit?” I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around Party Boy Collins, as he’s affectionately known around town, as being the one who helped Vaughn.

“No shit. Anyway, I told him there was no way I could be an escort, but I sure as hell would run their service. It was a joke. But we were drunk, and so our minds ran with it. After several hours, we had a whole world made up where we owned it and everything worked out in the end. Then a few weeks later, he called me. It was right after I’d had a visit from the social worker, and they’d told me my debt was too extensive to be considered to adopt Lucy. I told them it was in the process of being paid down . . . Archer called and . . .” She shrugs.

“So you’re telling me you created Wicked—” I stop myself from saying the name as I glance around. “You created a company and all of this within the last year?” Is she kidding me?

“Six months.”

“That’s incredible.”

“Not incredible. It was Archer. He knows everyone who’s anyone. All it took was for him to mumble a few recommendations among his circle. Those recommendations turned into word of mouth—some credible, some completely false—and add in the air of mystery, and . . .”

“And then all of a sudden you were being talked about in the most discreet of social circles.”

“Exactly. Plus, from paying attention to things his parents have done over the years, he was able to help me set up offshore accounts, scramble things around so that fingers wouldn’t point back to me if something went south.”

“Protect yourself,” I murmur, the curious part of me wanting to understand all of the inner workings of what she’s created.

“Fingers crossed it works.” She laughs nervously.

“Aren’t you ever afraid that he’ll tell someone?” I ask.

She laughs like she never gives it a thought. “I asked him the same thing when we were thinking this all up. He told me it wasn’t going to be a problem, but just so my mind would be at ease, he had his lawyer draw up a contract. We both signed it.”

“Dare I ask what it says?”

“That if he ever told anyone about the business or me or anything, he’d owe me half of his fortune . . . which at the time was close to five hundred million.”

And that definitely earned him my respect.

I blow out a whistle. “That will keep a tongue from wagging.”