Feathers and Thorne Series Books 1 - 3: The Complete Collection

Chapter Forty-Five

Isabella

It feels like a week passes at Aunt Anita’s mansion, but in reality, I think I sleep for a day and a half, with Carter keeping his distance for most of that time. He lays with me, kisses me, and caresses me at every chance he can get.

But he hasn’t become sexual since we left the lifestyle club in a hurry.

I don’t want to think it has anything to do with Brooke, but something tells me it does. I catch him staring at her small portrait quite a bit, but he never lets it last long enough for him to notice me watching him.

“We are leaving soon, dove,” Carter hums, passing me in the kitchen as I pick through a tray of fruit that Anita left out for breakfast. “Go ahead and take some of that food with you. We need to get back to the city right away.”

“What’s wrong?” I pant. “Is it Tristan? Did something else happen?”

He fashions on a crooked, modest smile that makes him look younger with fewer worries. “Nothing happened, Bella. We have work to do. You’ve hardly started your job after the fiasco at the mayor’s press conference. You cannot slack on work.”

I groan but know it’s true. I might be working for free, but if I want to eventually cash a lump sum of a paycheck into the bank to pay off my father’s mounting bills, I will have to keep this job.

“I’m ready when you are, Carter.”

The drive back to the city is long, not just because of traffic, but because no matter if Carter smiles and kisses my hand, holding it on his knee as his other hand steers the SUV, I can see an odd change in my new boss.

He hasn’t been the same since we talked about Brooke.

It makes me wish I had never asked about her at all.

It’s a silent trip to Carter’s penthouse, and I gather a few of my things, packing to get back to my apartment like his original deal entailed. When I come out of my room, bag slung over my shoulder, I find a silent, resolute Carter Blackthorne in his bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed.

He looks at the photo that he stuffed in his drawer at one point, but it sits in his grasp now, his elbows resting comfortably on his knees.

The way he admires the photo is the same way I sometimes see him staring at me.

It’s a weird, desperate longing for something, but as usual, he shuts it down after a minute. He tosses the picture aside into the chaos of his bedding and finds me fumbling to slip on my shoes while holding the keys to the car he so graciously gave me.

“Where are you going?”

My brows knit. “You said I have to work today, and those are the days I get to stay at my apartment. I know the mayor’s press conference was scary and all, but I should go home eventually.”

He hesitates, and I watch him want to discredit his own rule about me staying at my apartment on days I have to work for him, but he doesn’t seem like the type to do something like that either.

“Tristan will be in the office today,” he says at last. “Go home and change into something for work. Bring along an evening gown as well and go to the office, so you can work with Tristan today.”

Out of pure curiosity, I ask, “What are you doing today? Will you be at the office?”

“No, dove. I’ll be with Frances today. There’s a gala tonight, a fundraiser for the mayor. I have to be there tonight, and we will also see Donovan Phillips there. I want you to be my date, so I’m going to have a car pick you up at the office tonight, and Tristan can have your car taken back to your apartment.”

I sit back on my heels, taking in so much information at once. “Your date… at a gala?”

“Yes, of course,” he purrs, speaking so smoothly for a man I have watched come close to breaking the last couple of days. “There will be photographers and some very wealthy people there tonight, and I need you to help me raise our dear mayor a lot of money for his campaign.”

“Of course,” I breathe, still somewhat rattled by the ostentatious nature of tonight’s date with Carter. “I’ll see you later then.”

When I turn to leave, Carter pulls me back to his chest, and he locks our lips into a rolling, throaty kiss. I don’t want to break from this perfect position, but I know I must.

I have work to do.

***

I thought Carter would be a tough boss.

Tristan is more obsessive about details than I ever could imagine a man to be.

He doesn’t mention the fact that the last time I saw him, he was lying on Carter’s bathroom floor, bleeding profusely from a bullet wound. I don’t want him to be upset by the topic, so I steer away from it as much as possible.

I organize a few meetings and write everything down in a small planner for Carter to refer to later when he’s back in his office. I even find time to reorganize a lot of his desk that suffered from being tipped over at one point.

I glance around his impersonal office and skim over the books on his shelf, trying to get a better picture of Carter Blackthorne, but that feels like an impossible task.

“I need you back in here,” Tristan calls, leaning on the glass doorway into the office. “Is there something you’re looking for, Isabella?”

I bite my lower lip, feeling somewhat guilty about loitering in Carter’s office. “I was just looking at his things. His office is so… impersonal.”

“Much like him,” Tristan exhales with a knowing nod. “He likes things to be simple. It’s how he runs his businesses and his personal life.”

“Simple isn’t a word I would use to describe him,” I admit.

“You don’t know him like I do.”

There’s a weird sense of possessiveness that comes over Tristan. He doesn’t particularly like me; I think he’s made that clear in our brief, albeit obscure, interactions in the past. I wouldn’t expect him to tell me anything about Carter that I want to know, even about Brooke, so I don’t bother asking him.

He leads the way back to his office nearby and hands me a binder full of miscellaneous packets and other work notes. He collapses into his office chair and scans the sight of me for a moment.

I rather like my white pencil skirt and loose, silky red top. I put on one of the new outfits Carter bought me, and I look expensive and regal for once. If my father could see me and understand how this is a step up from my usual clothes, then I think he would be proud of me too.

“You have to drop that binder off on location at a new project of ours,” Tristan hums. “I need it done now. The construction workers might have left by now, so just slip it under the rug of the work trailer and then meet Carter at the gala tonight.”

I can’t help but look out of the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that peer outside. The sun is already setting over Manhattan. “Carter said he would come to get me tonight from the office.”

“Yes, but Carter isn’t here right now, and these papers need to get to that property. If they start building tomorrow morning using the old guidelines, it will fuck up the entire project, and we will have to pay millions to have it fixed. I can assume you know that Carter wouldn’t be happy with that.”

I hesitate but ultimately agree. “Okay. I’ll go drop them off. If he comes to the office later, will you—”

“I’ll let him know you’re on an important task,” he groans, exasperated with my presence by now. “So go ahead, Isabella. Drop off that binder, and then go ahead to the gala. The address to the worksite is on the front page inside.”

I hurry to the parking garage and open the binder, reading through the miscellaneous forms and project proposals. I know the address well, reading it in horror right where Tristan said it would be.

It goes to Jacob Lacey’s office on the job site where I used to work.

I consider going upstairs and asking why he would send me on this task, but he has already saved me from Jacob before. I doubt he would send me out there knowingly in the face of danger. For all I know, maybe Jacob doesn’t work there anymore, and he moved his office away.

The thought of facing Tristan after his last fit about punishing my old boss, I would rather drop this binder off and then hurry over to the gala to meet Carter.

I enjoy driving through the city in peace, and I navigate the docks with ease. I would walk to and from work here every day, even on weekends, if Jacob requested it. I realize how spoiled I am now to have a car to cut the trip down to a mere few seconds as opposed to an hour or two.

The job site is dark, and the exterior lights are the only things on at this hour. The moon is my only companion as I drop the binder off like Tristan told me. I stand straight, admiring my old office nearby and remembering just how devalued I was at this undignified job.

The door slams open suddenly. A furious and familiar figure stands in the doorway.

I stare up at my old boss, my worst adversary drinking down the sight of me, along with a bottle he fists in one hand. He grabs the binder from the ground and flicks it open, taking a long gulp of his whiskey while he reads it over.

He drunkenly chuckles to himself. “Is this a joke?”

I swallow hard, taking a cautious, long step back. He tracks it instantly. “I don’t… I don’t know what it is, Jacob. I was just instructed to bring it here.”

He throws it forward, the binder smacking me in the jaw. It falls heavily to the ground while a few sheets rip out and flutter to the ground at the will of the wind.

He takes a long, gulping swig of alcohol and sneers. “It’s a void contract, bitch. That’s what. Your new boyfriend seems to have found his money launderer elsewhere.”

“Donovan Phillips,” I breathe, piecing the deal together.

Jacob raises his brow, coming down the steps and moving forward, no matter how much I attempt to move backward. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“No-nothing.”

“Did you just say that Donovan Phillips is your boyfriend’s new little money runner?”

“Jacob, I shouldn’t have even come out—”

He swings his free hand forward, his knuckles meeting my cheek in a sure, sturdy slap. I choke, stumbling in my heels and keeping a hot hand over the mark he surely just made against my cheek.

“You think I’m going to let you go after he stepped on my business deals? He intervened in my gun-running business, and now this? He turns my own fucking ally against me and takes the money he owes me and gives it to him! Then to send you out here, he is just rubbing it all in my face some more!”

I flinch, trying to keep out of his range of motion again. He pulls back his jacket and takes another daunting sip of liquor. My eyes dart to the gun he has tucked into his waistband.

“You’re not going anywhere tonight, whore.”