Incentive (Infidelity Universe)

He stares at the ground, slips the key into his pocket, and nods. “I don’t know how to thank you, Decker.”

“Get your son back, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I clap him on the back and walk toward the parking lot. Reese falls in step beside me, hands clasped behind him, and I welcome his silence.

We climb into the SUV and head back to the Upper East Side before he asks, “What’s his story?”

“His wife cheated on him, wiped out his bank account, and took his kid. The little money he earns is wrapped up in a hellacious custody battle. A battle he’ll never win if he doesn’t have a place to live.”

“Damn.” He watches the traffic flickering by, head tilted against the window. “Who knew you were a softy?”

“If I was a softy, I would’ve let him move in with me months ago. Sharing a studio apartment with another guy exceeds my generosity.”

“That would exceed anyone’s generosity.”

I’ve felt bad about Dan’s situation for a long time. Giving him a place to live is a huge weight off my shoulders.

Pay it forward. I smile at Evan’s motto. Maybe he’s on to something.

When we reach the penthouse, I make my way toward the master suite.

“Your room is back there.” Reese chases after me. “Where are you going?”

“Goodnight, Reese.” I approach the closed door.

With a soundless twist of the handle, I confirm it’s locked. From my wallet, I remove the credit-card-sized lock pick set.

“What’re you doing?” Reese whispers behind me.

I slide one of the picks into the keyhole, and it unlocks with a click.

“Why are you carrying a lock pick set in your wallet?” He glares at me.

I’ve had it since I owned my store fronts. Didn’t want to chance getting locked out.

“I wouldn’t go in there,” Reese says. “This is a bad idea.”

I open the door and shut it behind me, locking Reese out. As my eyes adjust to the shadows, I trace the path of moonlight from the windows to the bed and find Laynee kneeling on the mattress.

“Don’t come any closer.” With her arms stretched out in front of her, she points a handgun at my chest.

Startled, I plant my feet on the floor, hands at my sides, and narrow my eyes. I can’t tell if she’s bluffing. Is the weapon even loaded?

Her finger moves to the trigger, and my pulse quickens.

“Lower the gun, Laynee.” I keep my voice quiet yet stern. “Odds are you’ll send a bullet through the wall and hit your assistant in the next room.”

“I learned how to shoot on the set of Angel of Fear. Did you see that movie? That wasn’t special effects. I’m a damn good shot.”

I believe her, and fuck if my cock doesn’t harden. Seeing her in cotton panties, a tiny tank-top, and confidently aiming a gun sets my body on fire. I want her more than I’ve wanted anyone or anything in a long fucking time.

“I take it your conversation with Infidelity didn’t go well.” I resist the urge to adjust my boner.

“I’m stuck with you, but the agreement doesn’t require you to be in my bed. We’ll stick to the script.” She shifts toward the end of the mattress on her knees, training the gun on my torso. “You’ll be my boyfriend in public only. No sex. No touching when the cameras aren’t around.”

“Do you believe your own bullshit?” I laugh. “No sex for a year? Do I look like a goddamn monk?”

She sucks in a sharp breath. “You signed an agreement to be monogamous.”

“Monogamous. Not celibate.” I take a cautious step toward her. “I enjoy sex, Laynee. I intend to enjoy it every day and in every way with my companion.”

“Not another step.” She stiffens her arms, the gun steady in her hands.

“Shooting me might get you out of the agreement, but the best publicist in the business can’t explain away a dead body in your hotel room.”

“Don’t do this.” The plea cracking her voice feels like a fist in my chest.

“All right.” Backing down goes against every aggressive cell in my body, but I’m pushing too hard, too soon. “I’ll give you tonight to—”

“You don’t get to—”

“—sleep alone. In Savannah, we do this my way.”

I slip out of the room, without giving her a chance to argue. Bracing my arms on the door frame, I listen for her muffled footsteps on the other side. When the lock clicks, I turn toward the sitting room.

As expected, Reese perches on the couch, wearing a smug expression. “Told you not to go in there.”

“She travels with ten bodyguards. Why does she need a gun?”

“Makes her feel safer.” He stands and heads down the hall toward the kitchen.

“Safe from what?” I follow on his heels, my mind racing in a million directions. “Does she have a stalker?”

“Several.” He opens the fridge and pulls out a dark beer. “Want one?”