Dangerous Curves (13 page)

“
Y
ou might
as well tell me,” Dominique said, taking a chair in her father's office.

Abraham leaned back in his chair, an amused smile toying with his lips. “It's about time you showed up.”

“Stop stalling.”

“I'm not doing anything except trying to have a nice conversation with my daughter.”

“You spew so much bull I'm surprised you don't stink.” She folded her arms. “Go on, spill it.”

He lifted his brows. “What?”

“Whatever you're trying to hide.”

He lifted his brows higher. “Who says I'm trying to hide anything?”

“You and Gloria succeeded in making a fool out of me once, I won't give you that opportunity a second time.”

Abraham glanced at his watch. “If you want to have a family squabble, can we schedule it for after business hours?”

“Why does Kevin Jackson make you afraid?”

Abraham shifted his gaze to her. “Did you tell him about us?” His look turned to pity. “Did you pour your little broken heart out to him to try to get back at us?”

Dominique let her arms fall to her side and studied him. “Is that what you wanted?”

“Are you sleeping with him?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Watch yourself, Dad. You don't want me as an enemy.”

Abraham leaned forward, clasping his hands together on the desk. “I have enemies who can slice you into bits, and others who have been eager for my bones since you were still in nappies. You don't scare me.”

“I'll find out who does.”

“Not if you want to protect your mother.”

Dominique's confidence faltered. “Mom can take care of herself,” she said, although the words sounded hollow.

“We're tightly linked, and if anything happens to me, she'll follow. And don't forget that you carry my name and my blood. Are you willing to destroy your life in the process?”

Dominique swallowed, but held his gaze. She couldn't turn away; that would be a sign of weakness he could use. “I won't carry your secrets.”

“You say that now, but you don't even know what they are. We're of one blood, and the more you hurt me the more you hurt yourself.” He sniffed. “I shouldn't be surprised. You don't like yourself very much, do you?”

“I'll find out what you're hiding and uncover every secret—”

“The crash wasn't an accident,” he cut in, his tone flat.

She paused, fear creeping up her skin. “What? You wanted to kill Kevin?”

“No. My dear, the crash was perfect.” Abraham flatted his hands on the desk and leaned back. “Beautiful even. It was the victims who were all wrong. They got into the wrong car.”

Victims? He'd meant someone else to get hurt?
“Who should have gotten in the car? What are you talking about? An assassination attempt?”

Abraham adjusted his tie then smoothed it down. “It's best that you not know.”

“How deep are you in it?”

“Deep enough.”

She swore. Secrets. He was forcing her to keep secrets when she'd vowed not to. “Then why did you want me to go after Kevin?”

“To see what he knew.”

Dominique crossed her legs, studying her father's expression. “You're lying to me, you could have told me this before.”

“I wanted to make sure his memory was really gone.”

“What do you think he knows?”

“Why did you lie to your sister?”

“I didn't lie,” she replied before recognizing his trap. He was putting her on the defense. “Don't you—”

“You could have had him. Both of you discussing your father issues.”

“Why Kevin?”

“I just wanted some dirt, some leverage that's all. To play a psychological game.”

She felt her temper rise, then stopped as a thought hit her.
Father issues?
How had he known about that? She hadn't told anyone, unless. She swore. The SOB had bugged her. She looked down and thought of the necklace her sister had given her to wear. The one she
always
wore. She tore it off and hung it out to him. “Is this what I think it is?”

Her father's expression changed just enough for her to get the answer. “You bastard.”

“If you knew who we were dealing with, you'd understand.”

They'd used her to spy on Kevin, to record their conversations.
You were always able to get people to open up.
Fortunately, Kevin hadn't opened up enough.

“Walk away from this. I know I made you angry, but it's just your pride talking.”

“I think—”

“You don't. That's your problem. Every thought in your head I put there. You're just a tool and if you try to fight me, you'll be a tool for my enemies. Go home and forget any of this happened. It was just mistaken identities that's all. Kevin got in the wrong car and I was trying to cover my tracks. That's all.”

She didn't believe him. Although his words ripped at the very fabric of her soul, wounded her to the core. It would have hurt less if he'd called her stupid, incompetent. But a tool? A useless instrument? That gripped her heart in pain, but she wouldn't focus on his words. That's what he wanted. He wanted to hurt and distract her from the truth. No. He was still hiding something. She didn't believe it was that simple. The wrong car, she could believe. Then why not just settle? Why fight the lawsuit? Why try to get dirt on Kevin?

She drummed her fingers. No. She was asking the wrong questions. It wasn't about her father. It wasn't Kevin who made her father nervous, it was someone else. Someone who'd chosen the wrong victim. Someone who had the power to make her father sweat. That person was the one pulling the strings and she wouldn't be able to get all the answers until she found out who.

She stood. “We'll see.”

“Don't be naïve. Do you really think I've gotten this far by being a choir boy?”

“No, I knew you were ruthless, manipulative and sometimes an ass, but I never thought you'd shake hands with a murderer.”

Abraham shrugged unmoved by the accusation. “No one's died yet.”

“Is your contact planning to keep it that way?”

“That's none of my business. Or yours.” His tone deepened. “Remember what curiosity did to the cat.” He pointed at her. “And you only have one life.”

Dominique just blinked. She didn't nod in agreement or scowl in disgust. She gave him no indication of how his words affected her. Instead she stood and calmly walked out.

Abraham watched her go, then pounded the desk with his fist. Gloria had ruined it. The whole incident was supposed to be settled weeks ago. If he'd pressed Dominique harder, she would have reported back to him with some information he could use to blackmail Jackson. Soon after the accident, he'd tried to find a woman to get close to Jackson, but the man seemed to know who to confide in. He'd even had one skilled lady attend Kevin's party, wearing earrings with a recording device, certain he'd get some pillow talk he could use. But she'd ended up empty. That's when he'd thought of using Dominique.

Dominique had a different charm with men like Jackson. He'd wanted her to be angry at Kevin to see what she'd do. She didn't care how she betrayed him, only that she did. And it would have worked. Kevin had gotten close to her. Through the recordings he could hear Kevin trusting her, but now that was over.

He took a deep breath. He hadn't gotten this far by being swayed by his emotions. Dominique was angry, but that would blind her to the truth. She'd focus on him and miss the big picture, that was always her strongest flaw. A flaw that would work in his favor.

“I told you there was nothing to worry about,” Abraham said to the third occupant of the room who'd been hiding in the closet.

“I don't remember you telling me that,” the man said.

“You heard her and you've listened to the recordings. Jackson doesn't remember anything.”

“Do you think she'll find out you lied about the car?”

“No. You can relax now.”

“Then we have a new problem.”

Abraham stood and poured himself a glass of water. “I don't see it.”

“Because you don't want to. Make sure she doesn't keep digging.”

He took a long swallow then set the glass down. “She won't find anything.”

“Are you positive about that?”

“Yes.”

“Then you don't know your daughter as well as you think.”

R
ating lovers had become
a favorite hobby of hers. She didn't have a sophisticated rating system. She preferred to focus on the basics. Overall performance. Endurance. Creativity. Her latest lover had a cumulative rating of negative three. Fortunately, that wasn't why she was with him.

Carla looked at Berton as he pulled on his trousers. Dominique's ex-boyfriend was well made in every department, but didn't know how to use his equipment to the fullest and she wasn't in the mood to teach him. So far her affair had proved useful, but not enough. She still didn't know what her husband was up to and the fact that he was keeping Berton in the dark worried her. Abraham was talking to someone, but who? She hadn't been able to get anything out of Gloria, who'd tearfully told her that Dominique was mad at her and then explained the reason.

Carla listened without care. Gloria had been able to turn her tears off and on since she was a child, but only Dominique hadn't been able to figure that out. Dominique. Poor thing didn't even realize she was just a chess piece in a game. But Carla would make sure they won. One day she and Dominique would own everything, but not yet. She shifted her gaze to the hotel window where a dying sun swept across the city.

“What's he nervous about?” she asked Berton as he tucked in his shirt.

“The lawsuit, that's the first thing on his mind.”

“Has he heard from Dominique?”

“No, I don't think he expects to.”

Of course he does, he's up to something.
“What has he said about her?”

Berton sat on the bed and put on his shoes. “Said?”

“He may be giving her space, but he's still keeping an eye on her.”

“He hasn't said anything to me.”

Carla sighed. Yes, she'd have to move on soon. He was useless if he couldn't supply her with the information she wanted.

B
erton rode
the hotel elevator to the lobby floor, stifling a yawn. God she was a bore. He was getting tired of pretending to be her lapdog, but it got him close to the action. A woman like Carla was a king maker and he planned to be the next one on the throne, but she didn't need to know that. He'd let her think that she was using him, as well as let Cartwright think he would sit idly by and believe his promises. He was nobody's donkey, but the Cartwrights would find that out.

Man, he'd thought his family was messed up, but the Cartwrights made dysfunction look like a compliment. He'd targeted Dominique because she was a good strategy, but when Cartwright approached him with his scheme, he knew there was something more and then Carla had grabbed his ass at a company party, making her intentions known. Dominique had no idea she was just a piece in her parents' weird game.

But he didn't feel sorry for her. She was as cold as ice. He'd gotten freezer burn just trying to get a leg over. Kevin Jackson would find that out. It'd been easy keeping the affair secret; Carla was clearly a pro and had likely taken Dominique's other boyfriends to bed, although he didn't understand what pleasure she got out of doing it. She was fiercely loyal to her daughter in other respects, always talking her up and saying how great she'd be as president, but that was where the devotion ended. She was a cool, calculating woman. He'd enjoy her a lot more if she didn't talk so damn much or ask so many questions, but at least it was a way to keep an eye on her.

She'd get rid of him soon, but he'd come up with information that would make her interested again. He knew how to pull her strings.

H
e was in pain
. No one else could see it from the smile on Kevin's face, but Dominique had become attuned to him. It was the way he leaned against the wall, the way he flexed his hand. She almost regretted allowing him one last party, but she knew stopping him would be impossible. Plus, he'd told her that a party at his house was one of the last things he'd remembered before the accident. A party Cassie and her husband had come to, but they hadn't stayed.

Dominique could understand why they hadn't.

She didn't even know why she'd accepted Kevin's offer to come. She knew it had been a challenge she should have ignored. Partying wasn't her thing and she felt as out of place as a giraffe among flamingos. Most of the guests were women—the ratio seemed to be three to one—and she didn't do chit-chat well. She'd had plans to make a quick exit when she'd spotted Kevin in the hallway with a woman pressed so close to him, if she pressed her body any closer, she'd be behind him. Seeing him in action was always amusing because he handled women well. He'd end conversations without being rude or insulting, flatter without sounding glib or insincere. He had his choice of women, who were putty in his hands. She wondered why he didn't disappear upstairs with one of them. Was it his leg?

She didn't care. What he did was none of her business. She watched the woman run a bright pink fingernail along his jaw.

She realized that seeing him with other women didn't make her feel jealous. He never inspired that in her. He never made her feel ignored or discarded. She could see why he had so many female friends.

Kevin was easy to love. And loving him wouldn't feel like a risk. A woman would be cared for and treasured and not mind that she'd just be one of the many who adored him and wanted him to be happy. Kevin didn't need her. He didn't need anyone. He had all that he needed. Looks, money, attention.

She wanted to walk out the door.

If only it hadn't been for his damn mouth—the way it curved slightly down when he was hurting—she'd be in her bedroom, out of her dress and heels and sitting on her couch with a nice roll of hob nobs, looking through the report from the investigator she'd hired to watch Cassie's family. She wanted to make sure her father wasn't having anyone follow Drake or the kids. So far it seemed his only interest was Kevin. She hadn't told Kevin what she'd learned about him getting into the wrong car or the bugged necklace. She wanted to find out more first. Their search for a fourth passenger had come to a dead end and her father wasn't talking. She and Kevin had spoken to the technician on call that day who'd given Kevin the car, but he didn't remember anyone being with them. She wanted to go home and come up with her next strategy.

Unfortunately, his mouth bothered her.

Dominique walked up to him and whispered in his ear, “Don't fight me on this,” then collapsed against him and said, “Damn, I think I twisted my ankle.” She took off her shoe and winced. “Stupid heels. Could you help me to the couch?” She turned to the woman he'd been flirting with. “Sorry about this.”

“Not as sorry as you will be.” She looped a possessive arm through Kevin's. “I was here first.”

Dominique sighed, she was not in the mood to fight over him. “You can follow us.”

“He's not going anywhere.” The woman tightened her hold and Dominique saw Kevin wince.

This wasn't going to be easy. She looked like the type of woman who was in the mood for a fight, so Dominique knew a belligerent attitude would make things worse. She would go on the offensive. She widened her eyes as if in shock. “Wait. Do you think?” She rested a hand on her chest. “It's nothing like that between us. I'm his cousin.”

“His cousin?”

“No,” Kevin said.

“Yes,” Dominique quickly corrected sending him a daggered look. He stared back without flinching.

“Which one is it?” Pink Nails demanded.

“We're distant cousins.”

“Very distant,” Kevin muttered.

“And my foot really is killing me. I'm not used to these kinds of parties.”

Pink Nails measured her up and down. “Is that why you're dressed like you're going to a funeral or something?”

Dominique kept her smile although the woman had insulted one of her best dresses. “Yes. So could you just give us a couple minutes?”

She looked at Dominique, then Kevin.

Kevin winked at the woman. “We'll finish our discussion later.”

Pink Nails pursed her lips. “Promise?”

He smiled and that was all the assurance she needed. She let his arm go, brushed her lips against his cheek, then sauntered away. Dominique looped her arm through his. “What is wrong with you?” she asked as they walked towards the lounge. He rested heavily against her and she fought not to buckle under his weight. “You nearly ruined it.”

“I don't like pretending we're related.”

It hurt that he disliked her so much, but she kept her voice nonchalant. “I'll think of something else next time. No, wait…there won't be a next time.”

“I don't care as long as you promise to burn that dress after tonight.”

Dominique looked down at herself. “What's wrong with it?”

“Too many things for me to list. It's so bad it's actually making my eyes water.”

She thought she looked lovely. Her mother said it was her killer dress. What was so awful about it? And why did he care anyway? Why did she? “It's my best dress. My mother bought it for me.”

“You mean your grandmother.”

“No,” she said through clenched teeth. “My mother. My very stylish, beautiful mother.”

“Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.” He lowered his arm and whacked her on the bottom. “Don't frown, cousin,” he said in a low voice, smiling at her look of stunned outrage. “You can be annoyed with me. Even angry, but don't frown. It makes me look bad. Women are always happy in my presence.”

Dominique's voice returned to her. “You are a—”

Kevin tapped the corner of her mouth. “If you don't smile, I'll kiss you.”

Dominique plastered a smile on her face. “You still are—”

He patted her hand that was resting on his arm. “Thank you, cousin. I'll tell Aunty to send you another dress. The cut and lines are all wrong in this one. Your figure disappears and the color.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “If I could strip you down, I would.”

“I'm sure you would like to try,” Dominique said in a grim tone.

“To
redress
you,” he clarified. “Although the other idea is tempting,” he said, his low voice turning to velvet.

A delicious shudder heated her body. They were surrounded by people, but he made her feel as if they were alone. The voices around them became a faint hum, the low lights and music fell away. He filled every crevice of her mind, gripping her heart with a longing she desperately wanted to forget. They didn't have a chance. He didn't like her. She'd betrayed him. It could never work. She didn't want to remember what his lips tasted like, the feel of his arms around her, the sight of him naked. She didn't want to care about the soft whisper his shirt made brushing against her sleeve.

She frantically scanned the room and spotted a place to sit. It didn't look comfortable, appearing like an expensive artistic design made for style over function, but she hoped they'd reach it before someone else did.

“What's the sudden rush?” Kevin said, when she sped up.

Dominique kept her eye on the goal. She was going to get him in that chair and then disappear. “I know you're hurting, just bear with me.”

“I'm trying.”

“I wonder if I should get you a cane.”

“Buy me one and you're fired.”

“Oh, I guess bruises are the price I pay for this job.”

Kevin looked instantly chagrined. He loosened his grip. “Damn, sorry. I didn't realize I—”

“You're pushing your body past its limit,” she said, for the first time wishing his house wasn't so big. Her intended object felt miles away.

“I just need to sit down.”

“Why didn't you tell her that?” Dominique asked, more frustrated by the distance of the seat than with him. “She'd lie down next to you if you wanted her to.”

“Jealous?”

“What?” She sounded more bitter than she wanted to. “Of something that could never be?”

Kevin opened his mouth to respond, but two attractive women in form-fitting dresses interrupted him. “Oh Kevin, we—”

“Sorry,” Dominique said, faking a grimace. “But he's helping me to the couch. I twisted my ankle.” She exaggerated a limp and led them over to the available seat. He sank into it with visible relief, but one of the women dressed in orange took the extra space beside him.

“I really need that seat,” Dominique said.

The woman looked up at Dominique in challenge. “What are you going to do, sit on me?”

It was a tempting thought. The cute little stick of a girl could be snapped in two.

Kevin patted his lap. “Wouldn't you prefer to sit on me?”

The woman eagerly did so, but instead of sitting on the one leg he directed her to, she sat on both. He briefly closed his eyes and tightened his jaw. Dominique gritted her teeth. He was trying to be Mr. Smooth and hurting himself in the process. She resisted the urge to yank the woman off of his lap. Instead, she grabbed a glass from a passing waiter and poured it in the woman's lap.

The woman jumped up outraged. “You fat bitch!”

Dominique sat down next to Kevin. “I know.”

The woman glared at her, then stormed off. Her friend sent Dominique a nasty look before she followed behind her friend.

“You didn't have to do that,” Kevin said.

“Stop being a martyr. Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head when she sat on you.”

“It was from a moment of ecstasy.”

Dominique couldn't stop a smile. “You were in agony.”

“Same thing.”

She shifted in her seat. “These chairs are as uncomfortable as I thought they would be.”

“You pretend that they're not.”

She turned sharply to him. Was he pretending right now? She thought of the nights when he had to pop his white pills. “Are you feeling better? Do you need a drink?” She placed the back of her hand against his neck. “At least you're not sweating.”

Kevin brushed her hand away. “Stop fussing over me. You're determined to ruin my image tonight, aren't you?”

She let her hand fall to her lap and gripped it in a fist. He was right. He had an image to maintain and it wouldn't be with someone like her. She should leave him alone. That's what she wanted to do anyway. “You're right. I'm sorry. I'll—”

He tapped the corner of her mouth. “Watch that frown or I'll have to kiss you.” He glanced towards the entrance of the lounge. “And I won't care who…” His words fell away. He softly swore.

She turned to see what had caught his attention and saw the skinny stick marching towards them with Pink Nails following. Both looked to be on the warpath.

Kevin held up his hands. “Ladies, I—”

“You lied to me,” Pink Nails said, her gaze pinned on Dominique. “You're not his cousin, are you?”

“Yes, I am and I'm sorry about your dress,” Dominique said, looking at Skinny Stick. She stood up, but remembered too late that a movement like that could be seen as aggressive. She saw the woman's gaze narrow and knew she was in trouble. She didn't even see Pink Nails raise her fist, but she felt the punch. It hit her across her face with such force that she stumbled back, tripped over her own feet and hit the ground hard.

She didn't know why she looked over at Kevin first. She saw him surge to his feet—too quickly—and cringe, but this time she wondered if it was from pain or embarrassment.
You're determined to ruin my image tonight, aren't you?
She was doing him more harm than good. She shouldn't have tried to help him; she didn't have his finesse with people. She only knew how to make enemies.

Dominique surged to her feet, wiping the blood from her nose. “Good one. You caught me by surprise,” she said, then punched Pink Nails in the gut. The woman doubled over and dropped to her knees in pain. “Now let's see if you can catch me,” Dominique whispered in her ear. She sent Skinny Stick a savage look. “You can have him, but stay off his lap,” she said. She didn't look at Kevin, although she could feel his eyes on her. Instead she took off her shoes and ran out of the room.