Hard Rules (Dirty Money #1)(70)

It’s at that moment that we halt in front of Jessica, her attention settling on me. “Hello, Emily.”

“Hi, Jessica,” I say, giving an awkward wave. “Sorry I didn’t tell you, but it just wasn’t the right time.”

“I’m using her to get information,” Shane says. “Hiding in plain sight. Understood?”

“To protect her,” Jessica concludes, her gaze flickering between the two of us. “Understood. You could have told me right out of the gate.”

“We’re telling you now,” Shane says. “And Derek and my mother know.”

“And your father?”

“Assume he does,” Shane states, and obviously done with the topic, adds, “Let’s get this viewing done and over with.”

“All right then,” she says. “But before I introduce you to Frank, our Realtor today, you should know I’d describe him as ‘difficult.’”

“My money isn’t,” Shane replies.

“Well then,” she replies, “it seems that in your present mood, Frank doesn’t stand a chance.” She steps backward and leads us in his direction.

Frank, a fifty-something man with glasses and a pretentious attitude he doesn’t need words to reinforce, greets us with handshakes, and quickly directs us to an elevator bank. Once inside, Shane stands behind me, one possessive hand on my shoulder. “This property will go fast,” Frank states, standing near Shane. “How motivated are you to make a quick decision?”

“If I’m motivated,” Shane says dryly, “you’ll know.”

Frank doesn’t get the message to stand down, pressing onward. “I should tell you that I already have several interested parties.”

“If I’m motivated,” Shane repeats. “You’ll know.”

Frank shuts up at that point and the rest of the ride to the penthouse is silent. The car stops on our level, and frank leads us to the one and only door on the floor, while Shane urges me inside the apartment for the first look. Upon entering, the wooden floor is dark, almost black, a striking difference to what Shane has now. Traveling a short hallway with stucco walls, I exit the other side to find myself in a half-moon-shaped room wrapped in windows. The view of downtown and the Rocky Mountains, is so stunning, I barely glance at the black leather furnishings framing a fireplace running to the ceiling.

“What do you think?” Shane asks, stepping to my side.

I turn to face him. “So far, it’s not that different from what you have now, though I haven’t actually looked around it completely.”

“You’re right. It’s got the same look and feel, down to the balcony off the living area.” His hands settle on his hips. “The difference is that there I’m by the office.”

“That has pros and cons,” I say. “And your father sure won’t be renting a room here.”

“My father,” he says, his look thoughtful, his fingers stroking the dark, sexy roughness of the stubble on his jaw, which he didn’t shave this morning. “Won’t be renting a room there either.”

“I thought you said he was already?”

“I did.”

Before I can ask what he means, Jessica appears between us, linking her arms with ours. “Let’s look at the rest of the place,” she urges. “Through the archway directly in front of us is a gorgeous gray stone kitchen and a sunken library.” We start moving in that direction. “There’s also an office and a bedroom, while the upstairs is expansive.”

For the next ten minutes we do a walk-through of the remainder of the apartment, including the rooms Jessica has indicated, along with a media room, and the second level, where we find a ridiculous number of bathrooms and bedrooms. Through it all, Shane is reserved, removed even, barely commenting on anything. Finally, we reach the master bedroom, which is another half-moon-shaped room, with a massive four-poster bed in the center, and another balcony to the right. Shane gives it a thirty-second inspection, says nothing, and then crosses the room to the balcony, which he opens and steps outside.

Jessica lets out a frustrated sound and I turn to find her facing me. “I know you two started seeing each other before you showed up at Brandon Enterprises,” she says. “What I don’t know is how well you know him, so let me point out the obvious to me. While other people throw things and curse when they’re angry, this is how Shane does pissed off. The quieter he is, the worse his anger. So what happened and with who?”

Her observations resonate as correct, and since Shane trusts her, I decide to answer. “Something Seth found out and shared right before we got here. I don’t know anything more.”

“If Seth’s involved, it’s bad.”

“Jessica,” Frank shouts from the stairwell.

She grimaces. “I’ll hold off Franky boy out there and give you two some time.”

I nod and she heads for the hallway, while I quickly join Shane on the balcony, seeing nothing but his back, his shoulders bunched under his T-shirt, and his gaze cast over the city.

“What can I say or do?” I ask, joining him, facing his direction, one of my hands closing around the steel railing.

He faces me, and his expression is all hard lines and shadows. “What can you do?”