Cuffed by His Charm (Dirty Little Secrets 4)

“We’re here.”

At Levi’s voice, I glance out the window as he pulls to a stop, and I find a high-rise reminding me of Holt Enterprises, Micah’s billion-dollar real estate company. Black glass and steel lead up to the sky, and it’s clear enough from the well-dressed people moving in and out of the revolving door that the companies in this skyscraper do well.

“Are we ready?” Ryder asks.

I nod. “Let’s finally put this bullshit to bed.” I open the door and step out into the bright, sunny day, followed by three of the most powerful men in San Francisco. Just as I’m about to enter, Micah stops me.

“Give us one minute,” he says to Darius and Ryder.

Both nod and are inside the building a second later, and Micah turns to me.

His expression is serious, voice even more so. “Regardless that at first you likely hurt McKenna, you fought like hell to prove yourself to her. You did more than I think any one of us would have done in your situation.” He pauses and cups my shoulder. “If McKenna can’t see that, Gabe, she doesn’t deserve you.”

The air between us feels weighted with the years of friendship we’ve shared. We’ve gone from wild years in our twenties to now simpler times in our thirties. To Micah, I’m brutally honest. “Deserve me or not, she’s the one I want,” I tell him, and because there’s nothing more to say, I turn away and enter the building.

Micah follows me inside, keeping his eyes fixated ahead of him. We’re focused on what we need to do and why we’re here. I stay in behind him, with Darius and Ryder flanking me, knowing Micah will take over for now, because when it comes to getting upstairs, he’s our way inside.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Holt,” the security guard at the front desk says, obviously well aware that Micah owns the building.

“Good afternoon,” Micah says with a genuine smile. “I’m taking these gentlemen up for a look around the new office space upstairs. Do you need them to sign in?”

The guard scans our faces and laughs softly. “No, sir, I’ll take care of all of that.”

“Thank you,” is Micah’s reply.

Within seconds we’ve passed through security and are entering the elevator at the back of the main lobby. Silence is thick and heavy between us, a world of tension that’s been building for months seeping into the air around us. When the elevator chimes open, Micah’s out as fast as he entered, striding toward the reception desk with us in tow. The closer we get, the wider the eyes of the woman behind the counter get.

When Micah reaches the desk, he arches a brow. “Miss, do you know who I am?”

“Y-yes,” the young woman says. “Ah . . . y-yes, Mr. Holt, what can I do for you?”

“Since you know who I am, I’m sure you’ll understand that I would be greatly annoyed if I have to wait,” he adds. “Point me in the direction of Penelope Burke’s office.”

“Um…” She blinks twice. “Third office on the left.” She points down the hallway.

Micah’s down that hallway a second later, and we’re right there with him as he steps into Penelope’s office. “We need to talk,” he says to her while she sits behind her metal desk in a black chair, a stunning view of the Financial District skyline behind her. “Where’s the meeting room?”

On any other day, I’d say she was cute with her big hazel eyes, round face, and a thick head of strawberry-blond curls, but today isn’t that day.

She visibly swallows, taking in the men crowding her office. And that stunned surprise is exactly why we’re here together, and why we didn’t arrange for this meeting ahead of time. We need her caught off guard. We need to intimidate. And doing it this way means no one could warn Penelope we’re here. She couldn’t run and hide, and as much as I don’t want to be here today, I’ve been waiting months for this sweet moment.

“Now,” Micah snarls, lip curled.

She quickly recovers, washing any emotion off her face, and rises. “Please follow me.”

Once she leads us farther down the hallway, we enter the meeting room on the left. I have to give it to her, she doesn’t even flinch when she watches us sit around the meeting room table. She shuts the door behind her and strides in without a hint of arrogance or nervousness. This twenty-something woman knows how to play the game.

“So,” she says, stopping at the end of the table, resting her hands against the back of the chair, “what exactly can I do for you?”

I reach into my pocket and hand her the affidavit that Ross Sterling drafted for me, and I give her the time to read it before adding, “As you can see, this is a copy of an affidavit signed by Evan Archer, where he admits that you knew that he was illegally bugging my pub, recording our conversations, and printing those findings in your magazine.” There’s a lot more I want to say to her, but I stick to the facts.

Her eyes slowly lift, and even then, there isn’t even a flicker of concern in her expression. “I take it that since the police aren’t here yet you don’t plan on pressing charges?”

Smart as shit, I’d give her that. “Do not mistake my generosity for weakness,” I tell her sternly, arching a brow her. “If you print anything further about any of us”—I gesture at the men around me—“you will regret it.”

She draws in a deep breath, glances at the paper once more, then faces me. “Well, it was a good run while it lasted.”

Micah growls, “Coldhearted bi—”