Bet on Me (6 page)

“A genius.”

He scoffed. “I’m no genius.” School had been fine, and he hadn’t had to expend much effort to grasp concepts, but his life had been all about survival back then. That meant most of his time had gone into working and paying bills.

“Sure you are. You’re old, but you’re still pretty young to be in charge of all of this.” Her lips twisted, the cynical expression out of place on such a baby face. “My parents are great, but I don’t really feel like I belong. It’s nice to see that I’m not so unusual. It’s okay to be different if you have someone you can be different with. You know?” She held out her hand. Slowly he extended his own hand and grasped hers. Her grip was firm—for a nine-year-old.

“Thanks for seeing me.”

“It’s been a pleasure, Ellie.” A rush of protectiveness pierced his armor at the feel of the small, breakable bones in her hand. They shook once and then paused, as if they were both pondering what the next move was.

A hug? No. Rejected. He was not a hugger.

After a long moment, her hand slipped out of his. “I hope I get to see you again. But I understand if I won’t.”

He couldn’t guarantee her that she would. If she was legit, a fraternal visit would require him to arrange it with her folks. With his father.

Ha. Ha. No.

Wyatt cleared his suddenly scratchy throat. “Just. Give me a second, okay? I need to go to the bathroom. And we’ll head down to see your mother.” His father’s wife. Allegedly. He swallowed down bile.

“You don’t want to see her,” Ellie guessed. Shrewd kid.

Since he appreciated candidness, he replied truthfully. “No. I don’t.”

She nodded and hitched her backpack higher. “Okay.”

He went inside his attached bathroom and turned the taps on, uncaring that he was dripping water on his suit when he splashed it on his face, struggling to distill the thoughts running through his head.

Calm down. Think. You’re at the table, the cards have been dealt. Who are the players?

His father. His father’s wife. Their child.

Who’s the most important player?

The girl.

He glanced into the mirror, not recognizing the wild-eyed man staring at him, his hair and face wet.

Yes. The girl.

What do we need to know about this player?

First: was her story legit? Easy enough, that part.

Second: did she need him? Did she need help?

The child glowed with health, and she looked well cared for. His clothes had never been as neat and pressed, and her arms were round, like she didn’t know what it was like to scrape together a dinner when all the cupboards were bare and parents were absent.

Still, appearances could be deceiving, and no one knew better than him what kind of father Samuel Caine could be. No one knew better than him how hard it was to hope someone would help, that someone would believe that his parent was abusive even though there was never a mark on his body.

What if this poor kid was being abused, her sharp mind wasted on parents who diminished her?

People could change. People could grow and learn from their mistakes. His current relationship with Tatiana was based on that premise, so he had to believe it. But his father? God.

What will you do with the information you find out about this player?

Help her? Take her? The panic he’d experienced on thinking he was actually her father resurfaced. What the fuck did he know about being part of a family? Nothing. He was only now learning how to be someone’s partner.

Worry about that later. Gather the information first.

He inhaled deeply. Mobilized, he wiped off his face and went back into his office. “Ellie—” He cut himself off, stymied by the silent room.

Frowning, he jerked open his office door to find the waiting room empty of everyone except Esme. “Where is she?”

Esme glanced up in surprise. “She said that you told her to wait in the lobby for you.”

Part of him was annoyed. The other part was impressed.

If this is how she lies now, she’s going to be a monster when she’s a teenager.

“I didn’t.” He strode out the door and downstairs. When he got to the back entrance, he didn’t find Ellie sitting on the bench outside, or a strange woman waiting.

Gather the information.

He yanked out his phone and dialed his security, not bothering with pleasantries when someone picked up. “Check the entrances and tell me if you saw a dark-haired female child leave in the last five minutes. About nine years old.”

He waited impatiently for the guard to run through the footage. The woman finally spoke. “Yes, sir. A young girl exited the back entrance three minutes ago and got inside a Toyota Camry. Do you want me to run the plates?”

Goddamn it. “Yeah. Get back to me.”

He dialed his private investigator on his way back to his office. The man picked up as he walked past Esme and shut his office door.

The PI had a small, exclusive operation, and Wyatt used him mainly because he was certain Jared wouldn’t spill his client’s secrets even if his skin was being peeled off his body. “Mr. Caine.”

“Jared. I need you to find out everything you can about a young girl.” He glanced around, though he was ensured privacy in his office. “Elizabeth Caine. Nine years old.”

“Date of birth?”

“I don’t know. Parents are allegedly Carol and…” he forced the words out, “…Samuel Caine. They supposedly lived in Tucson.”

Jared paused. “Any relation?”

“Samuel Caine is my father.” Dispassionately, Wyatt rattled off the man’s date of birth and social security number. He’d had the number memorized by the time he was twelve because he’d needed it to handle their various household finances when his father was unable to.

If Jared was surprised by the news that his biggest client even had family, he didn’t betray it. “Very well. Everything?”

Wyatt dropped into his chair. “Everything. I want to know where the girl goes to school, her medical records, her shoe size. I want every piece of information on the parents as well.”

“Not a problem.”

“As soon as possible.”

“I can get you anything that’s public records immediately. Confirmation that those records are accurate and any more information may require mobilizing someone in Tucson, so it may take a day or two.”

“As soon as possible,” Wyatt repeated, and hung up.

He placed his phone carefully on his desk and steepled his hands. Now what?

Now you wait for information. Once you have information, you can move.

His phone buzzed. He peered at it. Tatiana.
Feel up to playing with me tonight? We leave at eight, sharp.

He stared at the text for a long moment. Wyatt was well aware of what he should do. A proper boyfriend would call Tatiana or head upstairs right now and tell her everything that had happened. Let her soothe him. Let her handle all of those bubbling emotions he was so inept at processing.

Only…they wouldn’t just talk about today’s bizarre encounter. He’d have to open his veins. Whine about his childhood. Lay all of his weaknesses out in front of her, regardless of whether the kid’s story checked out.

He squeezed his eyes shut. The past year, he’d been consumed with wooing her. Getting her to trust him. Care for him. He needed her in his life, and never before had a goal been so important. Never had a goal seemed so challenging.

Adult Wyatt had to be enough for Adult Tatiana.

He opened his eyes, staring bleakly. He wasn’t enough. He had told her that. Her family had told her that. She didn’t believe them, for whatever reason.

Lucky for him. But it meant he couldn’t reveal his foibles now. Not his childhood scars. Not his fear he would never be able to be a part of a functional family. Not yet. Not until she was in too deep.

It was a manipulative tactic, but he was a manipulative man. Wyatt swallowed, his self-loathing tasting like ashes.

She’s going to be pissed.
His difficulty expressing himself had been a major problem when they were kids, and he’d promised he would do better.

Though, to be fair, what was there to tell? He wouldn’t hide a sister from Tatiana, but Jared hadn’t yet confirmed the kid was related to him. Even a birth certificate wouldn’t prove anything until Jared could verify it was the real deal. That could easily take until tomorrow.

He drew the frigidness around him, settling it over his emotions. Business as usual today. First order of business was ensuring he was distracted this evening as well.

He picked up the phone.
Sounds perfect. Can’t wait.

She should have brought her sketchbook with her, Tatiana decided. It was her distraction of choice when she had to wait somewhere. And it was better than her usual haphazard M.O. of scribbling on whatever surface was at hand.

She frowned at the doodle she’d made on the napkin. The design had been in her head all day, nagging and poking at her while she’d hunched over a desk and set stones.

Damn it. Even haphazardly sketched on a napkin precariously balanced on one leg, the ring was perfect. It would be exquisite if she cast it.

With a small growl, she seized the paper. Her fingers only made one crease before she changed her grip and tenderly folded it. She stuck it and her slim pen back into her purse and drummed her fingers on the leather of the seat in the limo.

She had expected Wyatt to come upstairs to shower and eat first, but he had left her a message a couple of hours ago telling her he had gotten tied up and would meet her at the car. He had sounded sufficiently distracted, so she assumed it was something big.

Still…Tatiana checked her watch. Fifteen minutes late? For Wyatt, that was a lifetime.

The door opened, and she straightened as Wyatt slid in to sit next to her. “Hey, you—oh.”

His lips came down hard on hers, the kiss desperate and more than a little wild. One hand slid behind her head, holding her still for him. His tongue thrust inside, taking her mouth as easily as he took her body.

It was a different kiss than the one she had received when he’d pushed into the ladies’ room last night. That had been deliberate seductive aggression. This was out of control. One thing Wyatt rarely was.

“Wow.” She gave a breathless laugh when they parted. “Miss me?”

He didn’t respond, only leaning his forehead against hers, his hot breath gusting over her lips. His lashes were long arcs on his cheeks. She cradled his cheeks and tilted him away, noting the deep furrow between his eyebrows, the lines bracketing his mouth. “Hey. Are you okay?”

He inhaled and opened his eyes. They were glassy for a second, but his lashes swept down, concealing them. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Sorry I’m late. Long day.”

She studied him for a minute. Tension strummed through him, so obvious she would have had to be blind not to notice. Blind, or not in love with him. “Would you rather go home? We can watch a movie—”

“No,” he replied quickly. “No. That is, I wanted to see what you had planned tonight.” His smile was forced, not fooling her. “Sounded intriguing.”

“Wyatt—”

“Stop.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Please. Don’t ask me anything. I need… I want…”

Need me. Want me.
Gripped with the desire to soothe whatever had left him so disturbed, she ran her thumb over his cheek. “Tell me.”

He caught her finger and bit down on the pad of it. “On your knees.”

Wyatt half-expected Tatiana to raise an eyebrow and make a saucy quip at his guttural command. He didn’t know if he could take that right now.

He had kept himself together all day, and other than Esme, he was certain he had fooled everyone he came into contact with. They might have thought he was more brusque and preoccupied than usual, but no one would consider he was distressed about personal matters. Because he didn’t have a personal life.

Except Tatiana.

One glimpse of her blonde head and he’d lost his control. He had to bury himself in her taste, wrap it around him, a layer of heat to keep him from freezing to death. A quick blast and he could return to normal.

She didn’t move for a second, considering him, and he almost howled.
Please don’t ask, don’t talk, help me get it together…

Slowly she cast a glance at the divider up between them and the driver and slipped to her knees. She wore a dress of some frothy pink material which made her look like a sweet piece of cotton candy. When he got his tongue on her, she would melt like spun sugar. He swallowed, the taste of her nipples and pussy burned into his memory.

She ran her palms up his thighs and pressed, until she had made a place for herself. Her nails scratched him through the material of his pants.

Tatiana dropped a kiss on his inner thigh. “Are you sure everything’s okay?” Another kiss, closer to his hardening cock.

“It will be,” he managed.

Her lips skated up his leg. Her lips covering her teeth, she mouthed the head of his cock through his slacks and underwear. She compressed her lips, and he grunted at the pressure. Never enough.

His fingers flew to the fastening of his pants, but she was already there. “Let me,” she murmured.

He couldn’t deny her. Not now. Not ever.

He hissed in a breath when she pulled out his semi-erect dick from the tangle of pants and boxer briefs. She nuzzled it against her cheek, her expression dreamy. With one finger, she stroked the tip of it, teasing the sensitive head. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the leather headrest, ready to let her sweet mouth take him away.

The phone in his jacket pocket rang, and his eyes sprang open.

“Who is it?” she whispered, as if the other person could hear.

“No one important.” No one who couldn't wait.

“Find out.” She ran the tip of her nail down his cock.

He shuddered. “What?”

“Find out.”

He didn’t want to find out. Jared had assembled some documents for him to view, but he hadn’t wanted to so much as look at them until the other man could verify their authenticity. What if he had managed to do that already?

The ring came again, shrill. Tatiana sat back on her knees. He cast her an annoyed glance, but he pulled out his phone and glanced at the display. Relief. Not Jared. “IT,” he said tersely.