Morning after, hard choices, and a dangerous line.
Saturday, September 21st, 7:02 am
I opened my eyes and saw nothing but darkness.
I blinked. Darkness.
Again. Still the same.
I stretched out to my right, searching for anything to tell me where I was. My fingers brushed over nothing but a sea of silk.
Where the hell was I?
What had I been doing?
Brown leather? Soft kisses.
Erin.
My eyes burned as I closed them and pressed my fingers to my lids. A headache flared to life, but for some reason, it felt like it should have been worse. I almost felt normal.
It all started coming back to me: the drinking, the making out, the sex with Erin in my study.
I reached to my left, feeling more silk beneath my fingertips, and then the warmth of skin. Soft. My fingers trailed down the gentle contours of a feminine back lying beside me.
A light, contented hum cut through the darkness, responding to my touch.
I rolled away from the body and stretched, reaching again, trying to find the edge of what was obviously my bed and the nightstand where my phone probably was. Sure enough, my fingers met hard edges and glass. My phone lit up instantly, flooding my vision with a harsh glow.
I blinked rapidly and squinted, trying to tame the sudden brightness. My dull headache protested at the intrusion, but I’d seen enough to know I was in my room and that it was 7:05 in the morning.
Saturday.
I must’ve blacked out and been carried here.
Embarrassment clawed at my mind, and I squeezed my eyes shut, picturing three or four women hauling my drunk ass to bed, and with each passing moment, it only got worse. I suddenly remembered why I’d gotten drunk in the first place.
Hiro Tanaka. Sashiko Tanaka. European banks. Tokyo real estate. Interpol and the SEC. Thousands of lives ruined. Billions lost…
I opened my newsfeed and immediately wished I hadn’t.
“Fuck. Kill me,” I whispered.
‘IMF Emergency Meeting Called—Fears of Currency Manipulation Surface.’
‘Tourism Craters Overnight: European Travel Sector Bleeds $4.3B in 48 Hours.’
‘Cryptocurrency Surges as Fiat Confidence Wavers—‘Digital Gold Rush’ Begins.’
‘Rumors of Insider Immunity: Which Hedge Funds Knew Before the Plunge?’
‘Anonymous Source Says Cyberintelligence Links Back to Japan.’
‘Flash Crash or Financial Warfare? Investigators Probe Source of Friday’s Euro Dump.’
And they just kept coming…
I groaned and dropped my phone on the bed, rolling onto my back to stare at the ceiling.
This was all my fault.
No matter what Erin said—or any of them, for that matter—I was the one calling the shots. I was the one who hadn’t listened when they told me Hiro Tanaka had the experience and the fortitude to pull something like this off.
I was the one who decided not to give Carla or his son back to him. I wanted to use them as leverage—to make Hiro surrender to me. I was tired of letting my pride take the hits. I wanted a goddamn win.
Instead, I’d lost.
And it only cost me several billion dollars and the livelihoods of countless people.
I had to meet his demands.
Didn’t I?
He had won! I couldn’t compete with something like this!
I picked up my phone again, opened it, and navigated to the only number I had for Hiro. He hadn’t answered a single call or replied to a text since the day I turned him down… but his daughter had.
You just destroyed the lives of countless people, I typed, smashing the keys like I was mad at them. I hope you die today. In the most painful way possible, so you can get to hell faster than you already are. In the meantime, you win.
My finger hovered over the send button, hesitating. I didn’t want to admit it to him.
No. It was too late. I needed to give him what he wanted. There was no other choice! Was I supposed to wait for him to nuke a third-world country full of orphans?
But I couldn’t bring myself to hit send.
You win…
I swallowed the lump in my throat and held down the backspace key until that last sentence was gone.
Instead, I typed. You have my attention. Can we talk?
I hit send and backed out. I didn’t even want to see the message get delivered.
That brought me to the ever-increasing list of unread and unanswered texts that had been building since last night. More from Mom, Dad, Dillon, Jonah… None from Natalie, which felt a little off.
The newest one, though, was from Astrid.
Even though I never replied to a single message from her, I always opened them. I couldn’t help myself—every one of them came with a creative selfie, and as crazy as she was, Astrid was a beautiful woman.
The newest image didn’t disappoint.
She sat on the edge of her bed—the same one I’d last seen her in before leaving Norway. There wasn’t a stitch of clothing on her. Her shoulders were bare, white-blonde hair draping over them and concealing delicate breasts that barely qualified as such. Her long legs were parted, toes touching the floor in such a way that emphasized the gentle slope of her calves. A touch of makeup enhanced her porcelain beauty—a hint of mascara, a kiss of rouge, and just enough blush to give her color.
She had a wicked gleam in her eye and a half-smile that could inspire a straight nun to sin. One hand delicately rested beneath her chin.
Between her legs sat Lara—the young woman who’d massaged me my first night at Astrid’s house. Like her mistress, she wasn’t wearing a scrap of fabric. Unlike her mistress, everything was on full display.
Lara’s breasts hung freely, heavy and ripe, begging to be kissed. Her tender pink nipples were hard, capping areolas slightly wider than a quarter. Her skin was almost as fair as Astrid’s and just as flawless, contrasting beautifully with the raven-black hair twisted into a messy bun.
Her legs were parted, knees half drawn toward her chest. Between her thighs was a dark thatch of hair nestled above faint pink lips that all but disappeared in the way she sat. Maybe it was my imagination, but I could’ve sworn something glistened there.
Her fingers, tipped with blood-red nails, were elegantly long and feminine.
Astrid’s other hand cupped Lara’s chin, guiding her to look up at her mistress. It was a subtle act of gentle domination—something at odds with what I knew Astrid to be. She didn’t believe in subtlety or gentleness at all. Bobbi could attest to that.
Still, Lara’s cornflower-blue eyes stared up at the other woman with absolute adoration.
The caption beneath the image read: You didn’t get a taste last time. Come back and see me, and maybe we can both indulge.
Goddamn, Astrid knew how to take a sexy photo. Did she have a photographer on standby? It wasn’t like she could shoot them herself.
Despite everything, I reached down and squeezed my cock through my underwear. It had grown hard as I stared at the image.
“Marcus?”
I glanced to my left, at the girl sleeping next to me. I’d only gotten a fleeting look at her back earlier and had assumed it was Erin.
It wasn’t.
Rolling over to look at me was Natalie.
“Oh God! Natalie!?”
She arched an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. “Expecting someone else?”
“I... uh...”
Natalie shook her head and chuckled softly. “Relax. I’m just giving you a hard time.” She reached out and stroked my cheek. “How are you?”
“I…”
One moment, I was concerned that Natalie was about to hit me for assuming I had another woman in my bed. Next, she proved to be unbothered by it; instead, she was more concerned and worried about me. It was a kind of whiplash I hadn’t experienced before.
I looked up to meet her gaze—barely visible in the dim light from my phone. “Do you know what happened yesterday?”
She nodded. “Marduke was going crazy. Something to do with the European markets? It’s all they’re talking about in the news, and I’m on-call this weekend. It looks bad. Is this related to why you got wasted last night?”
I nodded. “Yeah.” My throat was dry, and that one word came out thick. I physically had to keep tears in check. “It’s my fault… and you’re right. It’s really bad. There are already lawsuits. Interpol and the SEC are sniffing around.”
“God, Marcus… what happened?”
I shook my head. “It’s a long fucking story.”
Natalie sat up all the way, the sheet slipping from her chest to reveal her perfectly nude body. In the dim light, her heavy breasts hung freely.
She gracefully folded her legs beneath her. “It’s Saturday. I have plenty of time… until they call me, anyway.”
So I told her everything.
If I couldn’t trust Natalie, who could I trust?
I gave her all the gory details—the boardroom meeting, how Carla had outplayed everyone, and how that had sparked Hiro’s fury. I told her about the meeting with Ryo in Norway, set up by Astrid—how he shot us out of the air and sent his goons after me. I told her how I came back to the States with Ryo Tanaka in my pocket… about the meeting with Sachiko Tanaka and the assassin who’d been found while we were trying to talk. I mentioned Rajesh’s visit to the party, and the threats he’d delivered through Hiro.
I didn’t leave anything out… except for all the sex.
It didn’t feel necessary to tell her that I’d had angry sex with Carla after Hiro threatened me for something I hadn’t done. Or that I’d slept with my bodyguard while stranded in the Norwegian forest. And I sure as hell didn’t mention nearly fucking the crazy woman who had almost gotten us all killed.
Maybe I needed one of those anonymous groups for sex addicts.
Natalie listened with the patience of a saint, silent until I was completely done. “So… the man found dead in his hotel earlier this week. He was at your party. How did he die?”
Something about her tone was off as she asked the question.
“We’re not a hundred percent sure,” I said. “But my private investigator thinks Hiro killed him for failing to get me to agree to terms.”
Something in Natalie’s shoulders relaxed, and I realized she’d been holding tension in them.
Realization hit me. “Holy shit! You thought I killed Rajesh.”
“No,” Natalie said quickly, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t think that.” She looked away for a heartbeat. “I mean… at least… I hoped.”
I sighed. I couldn’t really blame her. After all, she knew I’d started my relationship with Bobbi by extorting her, and I’d just told her I was holding Ryo Tanaka hostage. Neither one of those was murder, but I doubted she’d thought I was capable of kidnapping or blackmail before two months ago.
“Yeah,” I said dryly. “I guess murder would kind of be a nonstarter for us.”
Natalie gave me a look that said, Ya think?
“What about everything else?” I asked. “Are those nonstarters too?”
Natalie exhaled and looked at me. “Marcus, if it were anyone else—probably. I think even in most cases, if I found out about some of the things you’d done, I’d probably never speak to you again, but I understand why you’re holding Ryo. That’s easy enough to justify.” She chewed her lip. “Bobbi…” Her voice softened. “If she were any less of a heinous bitch...”
“You don’t… have a problem at all?”
Natalie gave me a dangerous look. “Don’t talk me into having one. It wouldn’t be hard to do.”
I raised my hands in mock surrender.
“So,” she asked, “what are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know,” I said, the dull pain in my head suddenly tripling from the stress. “I texted the Tanakas. I guess I’m just waiting for them to respond.”
“Do you know what you’re going to say?”
“I haven’t decided,” I admitted.
“Don’t you think you’d better do that before you get on the phone with them?”
“Of course,” I said. “I just keep changing my mind every few seconds. I want it to stop. The only way I know how is to hand over Carla and Ryo—and probably cede a lot of assets.”
I rubbed at my temple. “Then a few minutes later, I start thinking I can just hit him back—harder than he hit me. It’s not like I don’t still have resources. I just need to figure out what to do next, and then really take it to them.
“Then I start wondering… do I just keep duking it out with him while the entire world suffers? That sounds like the most asshole thing ever. I don’t think I can do that.”
Natalie stared at me for a long moment, saying nothing. The room was quiet, lit only by the weak glow of my phone.
Finally, she said softly, “Would you be willing to give up almost everything in exchange for making sure no one else got hurt?”
“Probably. I wish I could claim it’s altruism, but it’s not just that. I’m scared, Nat. Look at what he’s already done to get to me. Look how many lives he’s ruined. What else is he willing to do if I keep pushing him?”
Natalie crawled onto her knees, slipping behind me and wrapping her arms around my shoulders. Her warm skin against my back was comforting, and I leaned back into her embrace.
Her generous lips brushed my ear, nurturing and sexy at the same time.
“I know you, Marcus,” she whispered. “You’ll make the right decision. We’ll figure it out.”
“We?” I turned to look at her.
She gave me a small smile and nodded.
“With all this shit I have going on?”
Natalie grinned. “I guess I’m a sucker for red flags.”
“Honestly,” I said, “you sticking around should probably be a red flag.”
Natalie nudged my jaw with a knuckle. “Careful, buster, or I’ll change my mind.”
“Not another word,” I promised.
“One stipulation, though,” Natalie said.
“What is it?”
“Tell me who you expected to be in bed with you.”
We stared at each other for a solid fifteen seconds. Neither of us blinked.
Radical honesty…
“Erin,” I said softly.
She already knew I had other relationships, even if we hadn’t gone into detail. Still, saying it out loud in front of her… it felt strange.
Natalie nodded, her poker face flawless.
“It’s not too late to back out,” I said.
“I want to ask who’s better,” Natalie murmured, tension thick in her voice.
“It doesn’t work like that,” I said. “You’re all different. Unique. Special.”
An unspoken question flickered in her eyes, but she didn’t voice it.
Instead, her hand slid off my shoulder, down my chest, until her fingertips brushed the fabric stretched tight across my prick.
“Is this me?” she asked, voice low and husky.
I decided to let her have the credit. Astrid certainly didn’t deserve it.
“Yeah.”
Her generous lips molded to mine as we shared a molten kiss, tongue snaking into my mouth. Our breaths quickened, mingling as I twisted in her arms and wrapped my arms around her waist. We tumbled to the side, our heads landing dangerously close to the edge of the bed without breaking our kiss.
My hands eagerly explored her body, and I realized that she was already completely nude—not even any panties. She gasped into my mouth as I reached behind her, grabbed a handful of her prodigious ass, and gave it a firm squeeze as I pulled her against me. Her arms tightened around my neck.
She broke the kiss, breathing heavily, as I could barely see her eyes searching my face in the near dark.
“Fuck me,” she whispered.
I nodded, hooked my fingers in my underwear, and pulled it down just enough to expose my hard cock.
One graceful leg bent at the knee as Natalie slid her foot up the sheets, granting me access to the treasure between her thighs. I wrapped my fingers around my throbbing girth and directed myself until I felt the head press against something warm and wet. It had been two days since I last touched her like this, but it felt even longer. Perhaps it was because I had wanted her for so long, and being away for any length of time made me ache. Maybe it was that she was so supportive and understanding, even when she shouldn’t have been.
Whatever the reason, as I rolled my hips forward and sank inside of her, it felt like coming home in a very special way. Natalie’s eyes went wide as I invaded her, feeling her wet canal envelope me like a tight glove. Her lips trembled.
Then my phone went dark.
Still clinging to her, I began to work myself in and out. Without being able to see, I kissed whatever my lips brushed against—the side of her nose, her eyelid, her chin, her lips…
She did the same.
Then she slid a hand to my cheek, and even though we couldn’t see each other’s faces anymore, I could feel her gaze boring into me.
“I’ll forgive you this one time, Marcus,” she breathed. “But don’t lie to me again. I want to see the picture after we’re through.”
I pressed my lips to hers and nodded. I didn’t deserve this woman—I didn’t deserve any of them.
***
Saturday, September 21st, 9:55 am
“Keep your eyes on me.”
My gaze snapped back to Tara, trying my best to ignore all the other people in the room.
It was difficult to concentrate when we had an audience—doubly so when that audience was helping you deal with a global catastrophe that you had a hand in creating.
At least Tara was easy to focus on. She stood just out of reach, clad in a dark yellow tank top that molded itself to her body, accentuating the subtle curves of her breasts and showcasing beautiful bronze abs that rippled slightly with every movement. A pair of skimpy nylon shorts sculpted her perfect, sculpted ass and left plenty of tanned, toned thighs visible for my eyes to feast on. Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail; wisps had escaped due to the last twenty minutes of sparring, giving her an alluring, slightly disheveled appearance.
Tara had an impressive physique, sculpted from God’s finest materials, that highlighted both her strength and femininity. Her face was stunning, probably breaking more hearts than I could ever know..
The only problem was—she wasn’t interested in what I had to offer. Someone like Natalie or Erin was more her speed.
God… sometimes life can be totally unfair.
Said the man with the harem.
Something about my posture, or perhaps the way I was staring hungrily at her abs, must’ve given me away. She suddenly lunged at me while I was still half in thought.
Unlike the last four times we sparred, I was ready for her. I sidestepped, missing a knee to my midsection, and dropped my hand just in time to avoid taking a fist to my ribs.
Usually, I would have stepped back to remove myself from any follow-up attacks, but this time I slid my foot between hers, hooked it around one of her ankles, and tried to pull.
Tara managed to recover before stumbling to the ground, turning her recovery into a graceful follow-up attack, delivering a roundhouse kick to my head.
I managed to bring my forearm up just in time to block, flinging the offending foot away from me and then stepping out of her range of attack.
Instead of following me, Tara backed up a couple of feet and said, “Good! That was a first! You’re getting better at countering.” She smiled at me. “You’re improving.”
“Thanks,” I said. I glanced at Natashya, who tossed me a towel. I caught it and scrubbed the sweat off my face. “Given enough time, I’m bound to get at least a little better.”
“Glad you have so much faith in me,” Tara said dryly.
“Honestly, I’m impressed you’ve gotten me this far," I replied. “I was never much of an athlete, and I don’t think my reactions or reflexes will ever be to your level.”
“Wouldn’t think it to look at you,” Tara said, giving me an appreciative once-over—the first time she’d ever approached flirtation with me.
The sound of Helen clearing her throat interrupted me before I had the chance to respond.
“I think that means we’re done for the day,” I said, dreading the idea of ending our session, because it meant I had to face reality. Hearing how badly I’d fucked up the world with my feud wasn’t my idea of a great way to spend a Saturday.
“Sounds good,” Tara said.
She looked like she wanted to say something else, and that feeling was reinforced when she glanced at Erin, then at the rest of the women in the room, and finally back at me. The meaning was clear — I want to talk to you, but not with so many others around.
I nodded, and she seemed to understand that I knew she had something important to say. Had it been any other time, I would’ve cleared out the room just to hear her out. Erin had been working on my personal trainer for a long time, wearing her down. Considering her subtle attempt at flirting, I couldn’t help but wonder if her efforts were starting to pay off.
But not today.
“Tomorrow morning?”
Tara glanced in Erin’s direction again, then nodded. “Tomorrow morning. Leg day.”
“You really had to go make my day worse, didn’t you?”
Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked toward Helen. “What do you have for me?”
“How did Tara make your day worse?” Helen asked.
“Now I have to worry about tomorrow being leg day,” I said. “As if today didn’t already suck.”
“You hate leg day that much?”
“Everybody hates leg day that much,” Natashya said, smirking.
“Seriously, Helen,” I said. “What have you got?”
“Don’t worry about the suits right now,” Helen said.
“What do you mean? They’re just going away?”
“She means,” Erin said, falling in beside us as we left the gym, “that you have plenty to worry about without adding lawsuits to the list. Let Helen and Karl worry about that.”
“Okay… then what do I need to worry about?” I felt the pit in my stomach gnawing at me.
“Well, first of all, you need to worry about your public image,” Erin said. “That, and the business decisions you need to make.”
“It’s bad, isn’t it? The public perception?” I’d been afraid of this.
Erin nodded. “I won’t sugarcoat it for you — it’s awful. I mean, there were always people out there who were jealous of you. You’re the everyman who got lucky. Now, not only did you get the fantasy, but you’re the bad guy who’s stepping on everyone else’s reality.”
“The charity stuff—”
“Doesn’t mean much,” Erin cut in.
“That’s not true,” Helen countered. “Several organizations are backing Marcus. Almost any veteran you talk to holds him in very high esteem, and that translates into a lot of support. At the end of the day, regardless of how our country has treated them, veterans hold a lot of sway in public discourse.”
That made me feel marginally better. Not that I was doing the charity work just for PR purposes, but it was helpful in a time like this.
“Is there any way we can do more right now?”
Erin shook her head. “Charity’s working on a strategy, but funding is limited. Never thought I’d hear myself say that while working for you.”
Erin’s words from last night suddenly came to mind for the first time since I’d woken up. I’d asked her if she would still be with me even if I lost all my money. Her response?
I don’t know…
Those words would be haunting me for a while.
“Any idea what you’re going to do about Hiro?”
…the million-dollar question. If only I knew.
“I have no fucking idea,” I said. “Half of me thinks I should just give him what he wants.”
“You can’t do that,” Helen said.
I grabbed her arm and stopped in my tracks. She did the same and turned to look at me. Beneath that icy exterior, there was a flicker of deference — something new swimming just beneath the surface.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the world is falling apart. While I might have some support in America, I don’t have nearly that in the rest of the world, and their opinion matters too.”
“I’m aware that the rest of the world exists, Marcus,” Helen said. “But you have to understand… if Hiro smells blood in the water, he will take everything.”
“There’s already blood in the water!”
Erin’s phone rang. Neither one of us even flinched.
“Hello?” Erin said, answering.
Helen sighed. “Marcus, it’s your decision, but I can’t emphasize this strongly enough — Hiro Tanaka is a predator. Don’t ignore me on this.”
“Sachiko—”
Helen cut me off. “—is also a predator.”
“She seems reasonable, Helen.”
Helen looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “She was raised by Hiro Tanaka.”
“She was groomed by Hiro Tanaka,” I retorted.
“Same thing,” Helen said.
“Marcus?” Erin said, cutting both of us off. She sounded genuinely spooked.
That got my attention. Erin rarely ever sounded anything other than confident.
She stood there with her phone pressed to her chest, the color drained from her face.
My heart skipped a beat. “What is it?”
“It’s a detective from the New York Police Department. He wants to speak with you.”
I started to reach out for the phone, but Helen beat me to it and took it from Erin. “I’ll take it.”
“Helen?”
She gave me an imploring look. “As your lawyer, I’d advise letting me take this call.”
Helen never sounded like that. I glanced between the two women, and then I put the pieces together, realizing what the call was about. I decided to trust my lawyer.
***
Saturday, September 21st, 2:13pm
It was early afternoon as Helen and I sat in my office. Neither of us talked as we waited — the only sound in the room was the slow, steady tick of the grandfather clock that graced one of the walls.
The study smelled of books, wood, and leather. It felt as tense as a rubber band ready to snap.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. “He’s late.”
“It’s typical,” Helen said, seemingly unbothered. “It’s meant to put us on the back foot.”
“Why did we agree to meet with him so soon? He offered to meet on Monday.”
“To put him on the back foot,” Helen said. “By meeting with him today, we’re telling him that we have nothing to hide.”
Considering who I was keeping as an unwilling guest in my building, I begged to differ but kept that thought to myself.
The door opened, and Erin peered in through the opening. “Mr. Upton? Detective Reynolds is here to see you.”
“Yeah… show him in.”
I started to stand, but Helen caught my eye and subtly shook her head. I settled back in my seat.
A few moments later, Erin stepped into the room, followed by a short man. He was five foot four, with a shock of thin, dirty-blond hair that seemed to have a life of its own. His weathered face had fine lines, like an old, worn dollar bill — weariness etched into each one.
But he was sharp. I could tell that immediately. His bright green eyes traveled around the room as he walked toward us. He looked carefree, his hands shoved into his pockets as if he were simply here for a friendly visit — nothing more.
The posture didn’t fool me. I could practically see him taking mental notes and cataloguing everything.
Reaching Helen, he held out his hand. My lawyer stood and shook it.
“Detective Reynolds,” Helen said warmly.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” Reynolds said.
He leaned over my desk, extending his hand. I half-rose as we shook. It was over almost before it began, and I sat back down.
I gestured to another chair in front of my desk. “Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything? Water?”
“No, thank you,” he said, taking the offered seat. “I just have a few questions. I won’t be long.”
“Very well.” I glanced at Erin. “Thank you, Erin. That’ll be all for now.”
“Yes, sir,” my assistant said, and shut the door as she left.
Reynolds watched her go, then looked back at Helen. Then me. “Very nice place you have here.”
I glanced at Helen, and she gave me the faintest of nods.
Detective Reynolds had called earlier that morning to see if I had a little time for a chat, stating that he had a few questions regarding the death of Rajesh Desai. Helen and Erin had already expressed concern that this could happen… that I might be targeted as a suspect because I was one of the last ones to talk to Desai before he died.
While it was something I was concerned about, though… I held out hope that it was just a routine questioning.
Helen claimed something like that would have happened sooner.
She immediately went into lawyer mode, advising me on what to do and say, including meeting with the detective as soon as possible. She advised me not to say anything to him at all without her approval.
In this instance… she was the boss.
I looked back at Reynolds. “Thanks.”
I wanted to say something witty or charming, but to be honest, now that we were having the meeting, I was terrified that anything I said would be the wrong thing. I was lucky that I could even think.
Helen could tell I was in no shape for small talk. “What is this about, Detective Reynolds?”
The detective blinked at Helen. “I’m sorry… I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”
“Unfortunately, you have,” Helen said. “I’m sure you’ve seen the news.”
“I did see something about it this morning,” the detective said, offering a disarming smile. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy… like the type I could grab a beer with, which I’m sure is exactly what he wanted. “I’m sure you have your hands full with the clean-up, so I’ll get right to it and get out of your hair.”
He looked at me. “I’ve heard reports that Rajesh Desai paid you a visit just before he died.”
“Our understanding is that Rajesh Desai died sometime in the early morning,” Helen said.
Reynolds tilted his head thoughtfully. “That’s true.”
“Mr. Desai left my client’s home between ten and eleven that Friday night.”
This was the first time I’d seen Helen in this sort of environment — going full lawyer. It was impressive in a thank-God-you’re-keeping-me-out-of-the-clutches-of-the-cops kind of way.
Reynolds didn’t seem too bothered by Helen’s correction. He turned his attention back to me. “Is it true that you and Mr. Desai had some sort of falling out before he left your home?”
“My client and Mr. Desai had a simple disagreement… nothing more.”
“Do you mind me asking what the disagreement was about?”
“Out of concern for legal matters,” Helen said, “I’m afraid we can’t divulge the details of that discussion.”
The detective looked confused. “Legal matters?”
“My client signs a lot of nondisclosure agreements,” Helen said matter-of-factly. “We haven’t had the chance to go over everything that was discussed to ensure that revealing any information wouldn’t violate one of those agreements. Until we can confirm that, we’re limited on what we can share. I’m sure you understand.”
I was impressed by the way Helen made it sound as if Rajesh and I had discussed a confidential business arrangement without explicitly saying so. Her ability to weave a false narrative without uttering a single lie was nothing short of incredible.
“Hmm.” Reynolds didn’t seem convinced by Helen’s reason.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on me. “Mr. Upton, do you know if anyone had any reason to murder Rajesh Desai?”
Hiro Tanaka. Hiro Tanaka. Hiro Tanaka.
What would happen if I told him to go look at Hiro Tanaka?
How bad would that move be?
I glanced at Helen. The look in her eyes suggested that if I said anything, she’d murder me herself. Collar or not, I believed her.
“Didn’t Rajesh Desai commit suicide?” Helen asked.
“No,” Reynolds said, without taking his eyes off me. “He was murdered, and your client was one of the last people to see him alive. We’re also aware that the two of them had quite the falling out.”
And I wanted to know who the fuck he’d heard that from. As far as I knew, everyone at the party had been trustworthy. Perhaps Rose or one of the others might have said something to someone unwittingly, but I didn’t think anyone there would purposefully say anything that might harm me.
More than likely, he’d gotten this information from Tanaka.
“Mr Upton,” the detective said, “Is there a reason your lawyer is present with you today? I just came here to ask a few questions.”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what to fucking say—’Sorry, pal. I’m at war with a Japanese mob boss, and I’m holding his kid in a homemade prison and his wife in a sex dungeon,’ didn’t seem to cut it.
“It’s my client’s right to have representation—”
“Dude. Have you seen the news?” I cut in.
“I have.”
“Everybody’s after me right now. Of course, I’m gonna lawyer up. She’s going everywhere with me. She’s checking the stall before I go to the bathroom. My security’s doing the same.”
Reynolds sat back in his seat, folding his hands and putting them in his lap. “So, you don’t know anyone who might have held some kind of grudge against him? An old business partner? Anything?”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” I said.
He took a deep breath and then exhaled. “Mr. Upton, do you know what thalloryne dimethaline is?”
I shook my head.
“It’s a slow-moving toxin that’s basically a death sentence for anyone who ingests it… almost impossible to detect, if you don’t know what you’re looking for.”
He shot me a meaningful look. “We only have a handful of cases where it’s been confirmed to be the means of death.”
“What does that have to do with Rajesh?” I asked.
“We have evidence that it might be what killed him,” Reynolds said. “Him and Colin Gerrard.”
My blood ran cold. I was acutely aware that I needed to focus on the here and now, but I couldn’t help myself. So far, the only reason I believed that my grandpa had been murdered was Chloe’s suspicion. No one else had been able to confirm anything. As far as anyone knew, the police certainly didn’t have any evidence that Colin Gerrard had been murdered.
Where had Reynolds gotten that information from? My grandfather’s killer?
An even scarier question—was the detective working for the NYPD, or was he working for someone else?
Was I witnessing Hiro Tanaka’s attempt to lay the blame for Rajesh’s murder on me?
I tried my best to keep all my feelings off my face, but I don’t think I was all that successful.
Something in the way Reynolds looked at me told me I hadn’t been that convincing. “Well, that’s about all the questions I have for now.”
The sudden rapidness with which he left shocked me, but before I could ask any questions, Helen stepped in.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t be of more help,” Helen said, texting someone as we both stood along with him.
He held out his hand to shake Helen’s hand. “Me too, but if something else comes to mind, please don’t hesitate to reach out.”
He shook Helen’s hand, and then mine. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.”
“You know where to find us,” Helen said.
On the heels of Helen’s words, Erin opened the door and escorted Reynolds out of my study. He left in the same way he came in… carefree and at ease. He hesitated near one of the bookshelves to glance at what was on them—then looked back at me. “Good luck with your troubles.”
As soon as the door closed, I leaned over my desk and put my head in my hands.
“Erin checked on him. He’s NYPD, but he may be working for Tanaka,” Helen said.
“Yeah,” I said.
“And even if he isn’t working for Tanaka, he thinks you did it,” Helen said, her voice low.
“Yeah.”
“If he’s legitimate, do you know what kind of proof he has?”
“How should I know!?” My hand slammed onto my desk.
“Marcus, I’m just—”
“We know what this is,” I growled.
“Marcus, we need to know for sure. Can you try calling—”
I laughed bitterly. “Don’t you think that’s what I’ve been trying to do?” I picked up my phone and showed Helen the unanswered texts.
Then I turned around and hurled my phone against the study window, watching it bounce off the bulletproof glass and clatter to the floor. Half the screen flickered and then went dark.
“Fuck!”
I slammed my fist on the desk, knuckles exploding in pain. Was Hiro committed to seeing me torn down? Was I past the point of no return? Go directly to jail. Do not pass Go.
I needed to talk to them… to tell them to call the whole thing off. I didn’t want this… I never wanted this—any of it.
And I needed him to know that. I needed him to see that he didn’t have to keep doing this. No one else needed to get hurt. I was willing to work with him.
Fuck the Marcus of a week ago who mouthed off to that old Asian asshole, thinking he was so smart.
But I had been smart. I had his son. I had the leverage. Hiro Tanaka didn’t think much of his heir, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see Ryo die. I thought I’d had him…
“He doesn’t think you have the fortitude to fight back,” Helen said softly.
So… what? He was just going to watch me bleed out while he kept kicking me? I didn’t have the will to fight, so he was just going to ruin me and take everything. All because I wouldn’t fight back and risk causing any more damage.
Tanaka was a petty guy. What would happen when I was in jail… or dead? Would he leave everyone else alone?
There was a good chance he wouldn’t… not after taking his wife and son.
Helen was right. Tanaka was a predator, and predators only understood one thing.
“Fuck it,” I snarled. “I’m not going down for a murder he committed.”
I stalked past Helen toward the door.
“Marcus? Where are you going?”
“Stay here,” I barked.
“Marc—”
The door slammed shut before she could say anything else. I stalked past Erin, returning after depositing Detective Reynolds.
“Marcus?”
I didn’t say anything.
I passed Natashya and Emily on the couch in the living room.
“Marcus?” Emily said as I waited by the elevator. “Natashya said that there was a detective here.”
The elevator doors opened, and I stepped in. As the doors began to close, a hand slapped on them, and Chloe stepped into the elevator. “I can’t let you leave the building.”
“I’m not leaving the building.”
“Where are we going?”
“Three floors down.”
The doors slid shut, cutting off another question from Emily.
Chloe rode the three floors down with me—stoic as always.
Within a few minutes, we arrived at the door to Ryo Tanaka’s room, and I beat on it repeatedly, intent on keeping it up until someone answered.
“Hey! Let me in!”
A few moments later, the door opened, and some guy I didn’t know blinked at me. He must have recognized me, because he immediately opened the door and stepped aside.
I stalked through the kitchen and into the living room, ignoring the men assigned to watch the younger Tanaka.
Ryo wasn’t at the table where I usually saw him.
I stormed into his bedroom and found him playing on his phone. He squawked as I snatched the phone out of his hands and tossed it over my shoulder. Judging by the sound, it must have fallen behind the dresser or something.
“Hey! What the—”
I drove my fist into the side of his face with a left hook, sending him sprawling face down across his bed. Blood spotted his comforter.
“Chloe,” I barked. “Get out your knife.”
My bodyguard didn’t hesitate to pull her pocket knife out; the accompanying click as she unfolded it sounded much louder than usual.
“What are we doing, Marcus?” She asked.
I spotted a couple of Psalter’s goons peering into the room.
“You two! Get in here and hold him down.”
They did so without question, one grabbing the young Tanaka and planting a knee in his back while the other straddled his thighs.
Ryo began screaming and gurgling incoherently.
“He won’t answer my calls?” I grabbed Ryo’s wrist and twisted it until he started screaming louder, tucking his arm under mine so he couldn’t move it. His fingers wriggled maddingly. I glanced at Chloe. “Pick one. Let’s see what his dad does when we send him a message he can’t ignore.”