Crash & Carnage by Emma Slate
Chapter 2
I frowned, not understanding the nature of their conversation. Knowing I couldn’t keep hiding behind the potted plant, I made my presence known by returning to the table. I looked at my brother whose face was flushed, a picture of guilt.
“What’s going on?” I ventured to ask.
“You should sit,” Andrew said.
His tone and command made me balk. “What am I really doing here, Andrew? This isn’t about helping you woo a new client, is it?”
Andrew’s gaze dropped to the white tablecloth, but he wouldn’t answer me, so I looked at Flynn Campbell. For some reason, I trusted him to give me an honest answer. His stare was unwavering.
I slowly sank down into my chair. And waited.
Flynn looked at Andrew in disgust. “I’m not doing this with you here. She deserves more. More from you.”
Andrew tossed back the last of his drink and stood from the table. “I’m sorry, Barrett,” he muttered before he left me alone with Flynn.
“What’s going on?” I repeated.
Flynn’s face was hard, unyielding. “We’re getting out of here.” Standing up, he reached into his trouser pocket for his wallet. He threw down some bills, more than enough to cover the drinks, grabbed my hand, and tugged me out of my seat. He barreled through the restaurant, servers jumping out of his way since it didn’t appear as if he was going to stop. I could barely keep up with his long strides, but something told me not to ask him to slow down.
When we got out of the restaurant, Flynn ushered me toward an idling black Rolls-Royce. I swallowed nervously, suddenly aware that Flynn possessed an obscene amount of wealth.
“Get in,” he commanded, opening the passenger door for me.
Despite our palpable chemistry, Flynn was a stranger. And I hesitated.
“Barrett,” he rumbled.
“I don’t even know you,” I hissed, mindful of the many pedestrians on the sidewalk. But this was New York, and even if I screamed, I doubted anyone would come to my aid.
Flynn reached up to cup the back of my neck, getting low and close to my face. “Get in,” he said again. It was still a command, but his voice had softened, and it made me shiver despite the warmth of the summer night.
I climbed inside the luxurious car and Flynn followed, scooting close, so his trouser-clad leg brushed my black dress. He shut the door and said to the driver, “To The Rex.”
“The hotel?” I asked.
Flynn nodded.
“Is that where you’re staying while you’re in town?”
A glimmer of amusement flashed in his eyes. “I own The Rex.”
My head spun with the knowledge that Flynn Campbell owned one of the most elite and expensive hotels in the city.
“You’re not a businessman in from Scotland?” I asked with a frown.
“Is that what your brother told you?”
“Well, no. But he let me think you were a potential new client. He asked me to come along because—”
“You’re beautiful and you know your Scottish history. He thought that would mean something to me.”
I nodded and Flynn barked out a laugh. “Ah, hen, your brother is a manipulative bastard.”
Ignoring his statement, I turned my head to look out the window. Manhattan sped by, but I saw none of the glittering excitement that belonged to the city.
“You don’t get along with your brother, do you?” he asked.
I shook my head but still refused to look at him.
“Then why did you come to dinner tonight? Why do him such a favor?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I do.”
I didn’t want to tell Flynn I’d fallen for my brother’s calculating tricks. “It’s none of your business,” I bristled.
Another crack of laughter, but he said nothing, and we fell into silence.
The Rex Hotel was on 79th and 5th across from Central Park. Because we were already on the Upper East Side and traffic was surprisingly minimal, it took almost no time to get there.
The car pulled up to the curb and Flynn got out first, offering me a hand. I hesitated only a moment, knowing there was no way out of whatever I had landed in.
Flynn escorted me into his hotel. When we were inside, he pulled me closer, his palm riding the small of my back. I felt the warmth of him through my dress and had to stop myself from moving closer. As we walked through the lobby, my breath caught in the back of my throat. The decor was all dark wood, brass accents, and sensual lighting. Very old world. I was hit with a wave of nostalgia for a time I’d never known.
“Oh.” I let out a breath. I looked around before my gaze landed on Flynn.
He stared down at me and waited, his blue eyes intense.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
“You’ve never been here before?”
I shook my head. We passed by the row of elevators, and I almost asked where we were going when Flynn rounded the corner.
“Private elevator,” he explained.
The elevator was similar in decor to the lobby, but the floor was a plush red brocade carpet instead of white marble. It should’ve been cheesy, but it wasn’t. Instead, it reeked of class and money. Flynn inserted his key and pushed the PH button. He didn’t reach for my hand again, but he stood close enough that his suit jacket brushed my arm.
The doors opened, revealing a vast suite with large glass windows and white walls. The sitting room was complete with a bar and an expensive gray L-shaped couch facing the dark-wood entertainment center, and the kitchen was outfitted with all the newest stainless-steel appliances.
I marveled at the decadence. “Do you live here?”
He nodded, walking toward the bar. Without looking at me, he asked, “Drink?”
“Will I need it?”
“Aye.”
Instead of being afraid of the truth, I was suddenly grateful for Flynn’s candor.
“Scotch.”
I watched a smile flit across his face as he fixed us two glasses of scotch. He stalked toward me like a sleek predator, handing me my drink. We clinked our glasses together.
“Slàinte mhath,” I murmured and took a healthy swallow.
Flynn’s eyes gleamed with something I couldn’t discern. Approval, maybe?
He gestured to the couch, and I took a seat. Flynn sat in the chair that faced me. Leaning forward, he stared into his drink and then finally lifted his gaze to meet mine.
“Your brother has gotten himself into some trouble,” he began.
“What kind of trouble?”
“Three hundred thousand dollars’ worth of trouble.”
I inhaled sharply. “He owes you money?” I guessed.
“Aye.”
“How? Were you in business together?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t understand. How can he owe you so much money?”
“It’s not important.”
“It’s not? It’s not like you guys had a friendly bet on a football game. That is some serious cash.”
He sighed. “Finish your drink.”
“But I don’t want—”
“Finish it,” he commanded, his voice low.
I did as bid, setting the empty glass down on the table. We’d never gotten around to dinner, and a warm ball of liquor resided deep in my belly.
“Your brother made me an offer,” Flynn said. “Your services in lieu of the debt.”
I blinked. “Sorry. The scotch must be doing something to my brain. Services?”
His jaw clenched and he nodded.
“What kind of services?” I demanded, suddenly understanding what I’d overheard at the restaurant. “You’re not interested in my history knowledge, are you?”
I stood up and began to pace across the living room floor. I whirled on Flynn, who had stood too, but was watching me with an indiscernible look on his face.
“You agreed,” I said in realization. “At the restaurant. Andrew asked if you guys had a deal.” My eyes narrowed. “What kind of man agrees to that sort of thing?”
In two quick strides, Flynn was in front of me, looming and fierce. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“So what is this? I work off my brother’s debt in the bedroom? Is that what you were hoping? Keep me chained and bound and—”
Flynn gripped my upper arms, dragging me close to him so we were nearly nose-to-nose despite the fact that he was several inches taller than me. “If I wanted a woman, I wouldn’t have to pay for it.”
“Then what could you possibly want me for?” I asked, still in shock.
Flynn released me, setting me back down on the floor. I nearly stumbled in my heels, but I caught myself.
He gestured to the couch. “Sit down. And I’ll explain.”
One-Click Sins of a King and keep reading!