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Chapter Four

Cohen

I watch as Piers walks out of his office building with Scarlett by his side. He walks close enough to touch her, yet doesn’t. She nearly catches me this time, so I step back into the shadows as she looks around. Smart woman.

My dick stirs to life as I watch her long legs carry her to the car park—legs I’ve recently imagined wrapped around my waist. Not just because she’s sexy as hell, because, fuck is she sexy. But because I know he hasn’t had her yet. I can see it in the way she looks at him. Her body language betrays her. Still, he keeps his distance. And here I thought he was supposed to be brilliant.

Imagine my surprise when I learn his childhood friend is also his partner. I thought for sure there was more there. Turns out, I had it all wrong.

He doesn’t look at her the same way. I almost feel sorry for her. But if there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s never to underestimate a woman. Especially a woman scorned. I wonder if he’s told her about Willow and his son? That they are here in London?

I wanted to take something from him, like he’s taken everything from me. Thanks to a homely receptionist at that attorney’s office, I have all the details to put my plan into action. And a severe case of blue balls. Throw a few compliments her way, and brush her in the right place with my fingertips, and she was spilling all the details of the file. Too bad her coworker came back early from lunch. The guilt on her face let me know I wouldn’t be getting a repeat performance.

Turns out Wendy’s will names Willow Darling as the heir, and her heir, one Phoenix Andrew Nichols was the standing heir in line for her uncle, James Black. But those pesky little stipulations make everything very tricky. I was hoping finding Piers with Scarlett would be enough to send her running back to the states, but only time will tell. Willow was the one I wanted to get close to, but it looks like she won’t be the one needing a shoulder to cry on. This couldn’t have worked out better if I’d planned it myself.

This all started out with a fucked-up love triangle, and it will end with one.

While I’ve been begging for scraps and making my own way, Piers’ has been here, living the life of luxury. He made a name for himself, and I’ve been cursing the name I was given He appears to have it all: the respect of his colleagues, a successful empire, a gorgeous partner, the money, the flat, the cars. And now his long- lost love remerges, with a secret child.

But I know all about secrets. I carry several of my own, plus a few more. For a price, they will stay buried. I tried to do the right thing, live an honorable life, but she never lets me forget.

When the money ended, so did the silence.

As if on cue, my mobile alerts me of an incoming call.

“Yes?” I hiss out in a whisper, looking up to see Scarlett’s car pulling out of the car park.

“What news do you have?” The pause in between her words lets me know she’s exhaling smoke.

“Not much,” I lie, not ready to share what I found. I step out of the shadows and hail a cab.

“Don’t play games, CJ.” My skin crawls with annoyance. I hate being reminded of my heritage.

“I’m not. These things take time,” I remind her.

“Well, tick tock. That’s not something we have time to play around with, is it?” she rasps out as she begins coughing loudly in my ear.

“No,” I reply flatly as the black car approaches.

“Then quit stalling and make a move. Or I’ll come do it myself.” The line goes dead.

Time to move things along. Too bad. I was hoping to take my time with this. With her.

Climbing in the back, I tell the cabbie, “Follow that black Audi.”

The game begins.

I follow her to his place and hold my breath, waiting to see if she goes in. She stops for a moment, and he opens the door and climbs out so quickly, I’m sure she must be going in. But he walks the path to his flat and she zooms back out on the road.

It’s not long before she’s stopping at a nearby pub. She parks in the car park and slowly makes her way to the door. Never taking my eyes off her, I instruct the cabbie to drop me off down the block. Throwing enough bills in the front seat to cover my ride, he gruffly calls out thanks as I climb out and walk to the pub, careful to keep my distance.

Once inside, I take a seat on a barstool with my back to her. This is a real pub, dark and smoky. Its wear shows it’s no fancy ladies’ club, nor a place to sip fruity drinks. This is the pace you come for a proper shot of whiskey or a pint to drown your sorrows in. Or desires.

Keeping my eyes forward, I look in the aged mirror and find her in a corner booth in the back with half a pint already drained next to her.

As the night passes, I sit, sipping my whiskey, and wait. She starts mixing shots with her pints, putting away the alcohol like a pro. Men come and go, hitting on her, and she bats them away like flies, and I can’t help but smile to myself at how she makes them work for it. I find myself wondering if she’d make me work for it. Not many people are immune to my dark charm, but I sense that same wickedness in her. A chill runs through me at the thought of what we’d be like together.

Just as I’m about to call it a night, two men slide into her booth and order more drinks as one digs through her bag and pulls out a wad of cash. The other man scoots closer to her, getting a bit handsy.