The Confession (28 page)

I loved teasing him. And now that things were finally going right, I wanted to celebrate. Alec was mine, and I had him before me, wanting me, needing what only I could give him. I'd missed this for too long, and even as I stood now, drinking him in, I knew I would never get enough.

He tried to come around the side of the bed, but I sidestepped toward the headboard, cornering myself against the wall. He laughed, a dark, smooth sound that made my body ache. I switched the small sliver of ice to the other cheek.

“Looks like you're in trouble,” he said, pulling his shirt off over his head. Each section of his abdominals flexed as he lifted his arms, making my fingers itch to touch.

“I don't think so.” I crawled up onto the bed, toward where he stood on the end. My long hair fell over my shoulders, soft against my cheeks. The comforter sank beneath my hands and knees.

“I've got you right where I want you,” I said.

I rose on my knees as I got closer, and slowly unbuckled his belt. The last of the ice melted on my tongue as I tugged his pants down, but before my tongue warmed again, I rolled onto my back and scooted to the edge of the bed. The room turned upside down as my head fell back and my hair stretched to the floor. His defiant cock stretched out over my face, already wet at the tip, and as the hunger rose in me, I reached for him with both hands. Before he could say a word, I had him in my mouth.

With a grunt he jerked forward, pushing himself against my freezing tongue.

“Cold,”
he said. “Ah, Christ, that's cold.”

I couldn't take him deep, but I could lick his smooth, salty head, and cup his balls in my hand. He jerked above me again as I slipped one finger behind them, rubbing that sensitive place beneath his sack that drove him crazy.

His feet adjusted, lowering his body so I could take more of him.

“Dirty girl,” he said. “Suck my dick. Like that.
Fuck.
Just like that.”

I groaned at the harsh rasp in his tone, and the vibrations made him tense. That familiar power dripped through my veins, and the desire to please him turned from a rush to an unquenchable thirst. I kissed him and stroked him with an urgency that had me digging my own heels into the mattress. Feeling him wring every bit of pleasure from my mouth had me hot as fire, and before I knew it, my own hips were churning.

He didn't even need to touch me. I was getting off on sucking his cock.

This deep, carnal knowledge set loose a deeper, more primitive need in me. I wasn't ashamed; there were no limits with us. Nothing was wrong when we were together. He'd told me that once before, but I didn't truly understand it until now.

I loved who I had become with him.

He touched me then. I arched into his fingers, spreading over my ribs, pulling down the cups of my bra to expose my breasts. He wasn't gentle with them. His big hands weighed them, and kneaded them, and then shoved them together with a light slap. The hardened peaks were aching, sending electric currents straight between my legs. Maybe he knew how much I needed his hard caress, because he pinched them both at the same time, and pulled them up toward him, and when I cried out around his cock, he let them fall with a hard bounce.

My teeth scraped down his shaft.

With a tight groan, he fell over me, catching himself before his chest smashed into mine.

“You want to play?” he ground out. “Let's play.”

His change of positions had dislodged his cock from my mouth. I licked the base, and then sucked one of his balls into my mouth. He shuddered.

His hands slid heavily down my hamstrings to my bottom, where he massaged deeply enough to spark the nerves between my legs. Then he reached for the straps of my panties, and slid them over my thighs, stopping just above my knees.

I thought he'd touch me with his fingers. Enter me. Rub my clit. Instead he grabbed my ass, and hoisted my hips up to his waiting mouth.

He devoured me, licking my pussy like he was starved for the taste. He swirled his tongue around my entrance, forged through my lips with his nose, nipped at my inner thighs. I came before he even touched my clit.

My back bowed straight off the bed, pushing me deeper into his mouth, and I sobbed with the impact of that relief as the heat shot through my body. He kept eating at me, his teeth scraping my raw nerves, and when he sucked that small bundle of nerves into his mouth I lost all sense of gravity.

“Enough,” he barked.
“Enough.”

He pulled back from my devious mouth, and my last sight was of his red, veined erection, shining from what I had done to him.

“No.” I reached for him again. I wanted to scald him the way he had scalded me. So that his body could never forget.

“I have to fuck you,” he said, voice tense and desperate. He turned me fast, so that my feet hung off the end of the mattress. My head was spinning from being upside down too long; the room behind kept moving. He grabbed my hips and pulled me to the edge of the bed. My legs were lifted, my ankles placed roughly over his shoulders.

“I have to be inside you,” he said. With one hand on the base, he guided the tip of his cock into my body. I was so sensitive I bit the back of my hand to keep from crying out. He worked his way in, wetting himself on my desire, then pulling out. Another inch in, another inch out. Deeper with each measured stroke, until I was blind with lust.

“I love fucking you,” he said, when he was buried to the hilt. “When I'm not fucking you, I'm thinking about fucking you. I'm dreaming about fucking you. I need you so damn much.”

His filthy words were my undoing. I clenched around him, every sensation ricocheting out from that center, spinning me out of control.

“Look at me,” he ordered. I couldn't even see.

“Look at me,”
he snapped again. And when I opened my eyes, he withdrew, and thrust back hard into my body. I gasped for breath, but there was none. Soon he was pounding into me, fast and deep, so deep that my breasts shook and I was forced to grip the comforter just to hold on to something.

He came over me and shoved me up the bed so that his knees were on the mattress.

“Show me,” he said. And I didn't know what he meant until he changed the angle of his hips. When he thrust again, I could feel him in my whole body, straight to my fingertips, straight to my toes. My eyes went wide, my mouth open in a silent cry.

“There it is,” he muttered as I bucked against him.

I clung to his shoulders, nails digging deep as he lost his rhythm, and wrapped his arms around my back for his last frenzied thrusts.

“I love you,” he said, jerking into me once more, then holding on tight as he came.

He collapsed, his head on my shoulder, his chest on mine. I could feel his heart pounding and his warm breath on my ear.

“Baby,” I whispered.

“Mmm?”

“We're going to win.”

I smiled at the ceiling, hair clinging to my sweaty brow, and felt his lips curve up against my neck.

T
wo days later, Jessica Rowe took the stand.

I sat in the second row of the courtroom, behind the prosecutor's bench, next to a thin man with beach-blond hair and a sunburned nose. Alec's lawyer was younger than anyone on Maxim Stein's team—somewhere in his midtwenties, and fresh out of law school. He was accompanied by his petite assistant, a pretty Latina woman with full hips who also happened to be his wife.

He was the third lawyer Alec had hired. The other two had dropped his case when they realized who he was up against.

His name was Jim Rolling, and he looked as awestruck as a twelve-year-old at his first pro baseball game. I tried not to let that fact bother me; a federal prosecutor was the one running the show today anyway. I assessed the man who would be interviewing Jessica as he stood beside the heavy oak table, reviewing a file of information. Silver hair. Rimless glasses. Hungry eyes, like a shark. According to Jim, he'd been with Stein's secretary for two straight days reviewing her statement.

Seated on my other side, Agent Janelle Jamison the dominatrix chewed on a toothpick, carefully assessing Stein's crew. Three men and one woman were gathered around the defense's table, all wearing suits that easily could have cost six months of my income at the salon. Stein had yet to arrive.

“So that's what renting out your private jet will buy,” I said, remembering how Max still managed to afford his high-profile attorneys.

“Don't worry,” said Janelle. “They're still sucking him dry.”

A smirk curved my lips.

I checked the clock at the back of the courtroom. Quarter to nine. Jessica would take the stand in fifteen minutes.

Alec wasn't allowed to be here for this—his testimony needed to be untainted by that of the other witnesses, so he and Jessica had been kept separate. He was nearby in another room waiting for his lawyer. Though he'd tried to convince me to stay back with him, I'd had to come. I needed to hear Jessica lock in Alec's victory.

I needed to face Maxim Stein.

My stomach was in knots. I'd barely managed to eat dinner last night, and had opted for coffee only this morning. For the first time, Alec didn't push me into eating. He'd barely touched his own food.

I reminded myself we would have time later to celebrate.

“There's still a chance to duck out,” said Janelle, without looking over.

“I'm fine.” We both knew it wasn't true. I was going to sweat straight through the white blouse I'd worn if we didn't get this party started soon.

The door to the left of the witness stand opened, and two men in suits appeared, flanked by a woman with a U.S. Marshal badge. The first had shoe-polish black hair and a matching navy suit and tie.

The other was Maxim Stein.

From first glance he didn't look that different than he had months ago when I'd laid my oil-slicked hands on his naked back. His silver hair was neat and trimmed, his clothing impeccable. He wasn't particularly tall—no more than a few inches taller than me. But he walked like he owned the whole goddamn world.

I stared at him, feeling the ice-cold claws of dread sink into my back. Images of my head on his shoulder, of my body strewn across his invaded my vision, and I forced myself to blink them away. I hated him. He disgusted me. I wanted nothing more than for him to rot in some cold jail cell, without ever knowing the soft, kind touch of another human being ever again.

As if he could feel my stare, Stein turned. His eyes found mine immediately, as if he'd known I would be sitting here. It was then that I saw the extra wrinkles on his face, and the way his chest didn't quite fill out the front of his pricey suit jacket. He was pale, as if he hadn't been out of the house in months.

We both knew that wasn't true.

I glared at him, and his brows lifted, a subtle surprise. And then he smiled.

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered.

“Smile back,” said Janelle, so quietly I barely heard.

It took some effort, but I grinned at him. It was the look I was going to give him when they slapped handcuffs around his wrists and carted him away. And at the sight of it, his own smile warped into a cringe, and he turned to face his lawyer.

I sat straighter. Prouder. I hadn't crumbled when he'd walked into the room. I'd stayed strong, even if that strength was fueled by anger. It felt like a victory. The first, in a very long line.

The judge came in shortly thereafter. She was a serious woman, humbling in her black robes and with her stark white hair. Her eyebrows remained flat as she took her raised seat behind the bald eagle seal of the federal district court, as if nothing could surprise her.

It took twenty minutes of proceedings before the prosecutor called Jessica into the courtroom, and by that time I'd chewed my nails down to the quick.

Maxim Stein's secretary entered from the back of the room, escorted by another marshal. She wore a black pencil skirt and a soft blue blouse, but walked with her head down and her shoulders bowed. Once I'd thought of her as an ice queen, now she looked like a poor, beaten animal. Her eyes and nose were already red, as if she'd been crying.

The lingering fear that she might not be strong enough to do what needed to be done wormed its way back into the forefront of my brain. A lot was riding on this. Part of me wished I could give her a pep talk. Take her for a manicure. Do
something
. But from here on out, this was all out of my hands.

She was sworn in. She agreed to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, so help her God.

She swore it.

Janelle glared at me when my heels tapped audibly against the tile floor.

The prosecutor rose. He asked her easy opening questions; if she knew the man seated with the defense attorneys, how long she had worked for Maxim Stein, the kinds of basic secretarial things her job entailed.

He asked her if, in her long twenty-four years of employment, Maxim Stein had ever made her feel unsafe.

There was an objection from the defense.

He asked if Maxim Stein had ever asked her to do anything illegal.

Another objection.

He asked if she had ever witnessed Maxim Stein engage in activities she knew to be wrong.

She began to cry.

“I was wrong to run,” she said.

The defense didn't even have time to object.

“Take your time,” said the prosecutor.

She pulled a worn Kleenex from her sleeve as the court stenographer tapped on her keyboard.

“This is a mess,” she said finally, staring at the floor in front of the witness stand. “Mr. Stein's a good man. He's sometimes overly aggressive and single-minded when it comes to his business ventures, but he's not a criminal.”

“Ms. Rowe . . .” The prosecutor hesitated. “You understand that you're under oath?”

“I understand,” said Jessica.

“This isn't what we discussed.”

“I tried to tell you.”

The prosecutor returned to the bench to flip through his notes. His cheeks were stained red, and that cutthroat look in his eye had faded to something much less confident.

I shifted in my chair.

The prosecutor read from his notes.

“Yesterday, under oath, you told me that the defendant, Maxim Stein, told you that he was going to steal the Green Fusion engine design from Charlotte MacAfee. Do you remember saying this?”

“Yes, but . . .”

“But what?” interrupted the prosecutor.

“But I was afraid!” cried Jessica. She dabbed her eyes with her tissue. “I agreed with you because I thought I'd be in even more trouble if I didn't.”

Maxim's attorneys whispered to each other. I couldn't still my heels from bouncing on the floor.

The prosecutor turned to the judge.

“Your Honor, this wasn't the same story I heard yesterday.”

Her silver brows arched.

“It wasn't him,” Jessica said, and looked Maxim right in the eye. “I'm sorry, Mr. Stein. I was afraid. I should have been here for you.”

Voices began to rise, from around me, from the jury. The judge hit her gavel against her desk to call order.

“What the holy hell is happening?” I muttered to Janelle.

Janelle's mouth was open. Her eyes wide.

“Ms. Rowe, did you not say—” The prosecutor was silenced as his witness talked over him, gaining speed, like her words were water rushing from a broken pipe.

“Mr. Stein employed a young man many years ago to work for him. He was troubled, into drugs and who knows what else. A poor home life, I think.”

“Keep to the questions, Ms. Rowe,” warned the judge.

If I'd had a red flag, I would have been waving it now. I had a bad feeling about where this was going.

“Ms. Rowe, your testimony—”

“Alec Flynn was like a son to Mr. Stein. And Alec betrayed him.”

Red flag. Red flag. Wave, wave, wave.

“Jessica.”
The prosecutor rushed toward her, hands raised as if trying to calm her down. “Your Honor, the witness is contradicting everything she said yesterday under oath.”

“No,” Jessica said stridently. “It's the truth. He blackmailed Mr. Stein in order to get control of Force. I ran because I was afraid of what he could do, what Alec Flynn was capable of.”

“Stick to the questions, Ms. Rowe, or I'll have you removed,” said the judge sternly.

“Your Honor,” said the prosecutor. “We need a recess to reassess the situation, as you can see . . .”

It felt as if someone had just pulled the rug out from beneath me. Everyone seemed to be speaking at once, but all I heard was Jessica Rowe's voice.

“He convinced a young woman, Ms. Anna Rossi, to help him. Anna was employed as Mr. Stein's masseuse and had access to his home office. I think she meant to steal the blueprints he'd been trying to procure from the Green Fusion company. I'm sorry, Mr. Stein. I'm so sorry.”

My ears started buzzing. My fingers felt numb. This wasn't happening.

The prosecutor had been trying to talk over her, but finally gave up.

“Your Honor, Ms. Rossi . . . she's present in the courtroom. If she's to be called as a witness, she'll need to be excused.”

Janelle stood, her hand squeezing my shoulder like a vice.

“You need to leave,” she said, her voice flat.

“Get this witness out of here,” said the judge. The gavel hit the desk with a sharp clap. “This court is in recess until eight a.m. tomorrow morning. Counsel, I'll see you in my chambers.
No
w
.”

*   *   *

I was still in shock as Janelle led me from the courtroom down the wide hallway to a private room. My heels clicked too loudly against the marble floors. Neither of us said a word.

When she opened the door, Alec was already standing. Pacing, from the looks of it. His tie hung in a loose knot around his open collar, and his suit jacket had been laid across the back of one of the chairs that lined the far wall. His hair was a sexy mess. Had I not been reeling, I would have smiled, and remembered the last time he'd rolled out of bed that way, but instead it hit me like a blow to the gut.

Jessica Rowe's testimony was threatening to take Alec away from me.

“What happened.” His words were barely a question. He could see the apprehension on my face.

Without answering, I turned to Janelle.

“It's bullshit,” I said. “Maxim Stein got to her. I thought you were watching her!”

“We were,” snapped Janelle, shutting the door behind her. The three of us faced off, corners of a triangle, each an arm's length away. “Stein never came within a hundred feet of her, I promise you.”

“Then he must have called her.
Something
.”

Janelle gave me a withering look. “We monitored her phone. She never called anyone. I need to meet with my team. Stay here.”

“Wait.” I reached for her as she turned toward the door. “What happens now? What does this mean?”

“What
happened
?” Alec asked again.

I didn't want to tell him. If there was a way not to, I would have.

“It means my case is royally screwed,” said Janelle, shaking free of my hand on her shoulder.

Immediately I remembered why I didn't like her.

“Your
case
?” My voice was rising. “This is his
life
we're talking about.”

She left the room, the door slamming behind her.

Alec grabbed my wrist and spun me toward him.

“Talk. Now.”

Facing him, held in that familiar, heated glare, I nearly buckled. I felt like I'd been the one to fail him.

“She lied,” I said.

Voice trembling, I told him everything that had happened, right from the moment Maxim Stein had walked into the courtroom. When his face fell, and his hair swung in front of his eyes, I wrapped my arms around him and held him as tightly as I could.

I wasn't ready to let him go. I would
never
be ready.

Hope wasn't lost. Surely the prosecutor would find a way to poke holes in Jessica's testimony, make the jury see how clouded her judgment had become in the face of fear. He had the FBI behind him for God's sake.

Alec's lawyer walked in not long after, accompanied by his wife, who gave me a sympathetic pat on the arm. His face was still flushed, though he didn't look nearly as confused as he had in the courtroom.

“I assume Anna filled you in,” he said. We'd met a couple of times over the last two days in preparation for Alec's testimony. I hadn't been included of course, but Alec had been reluctant to let me leave his sight.

“What's next, Jim?” asked Alec. I could feel the invisible walls he was drawing around himself. I remembered them all too well from the first time I'd met him, when he'd been hiding the truth.

I reached for his hand, and squeezed it tightly.

“The secretary takes the stand again tomorrow morning. The prosecutor will have another shot at her, then the defense gets their questions. I've got to tell you, what happened in there wasn't what I expected.”