Dark Notes(99)

“Ivory.” I wait for her to look at me. “Deb and I have a few things to discuss. Go start the coffee.”

She presses her lips flat, studying Deb from beneath her lashes, then storms off toward the kitchen.

I’m tempted to yank those sexy little shorts down and stripe her f*cking ass.

The moment she disappears around the corner, Deb steps inside and caresses her hands over my pecs. “God, I’ve missed you.”

I clutch her wrist and guide her back, hardening my expression with a look that makes her posture wither.

She twists her arm until I release her, disappointment creasing her face. “Who is she?”

I close the front door. “She is serious.”

“I see that. She’s also a bit territorial, don’t you think? Where’d you find her?”

“Where isn’t important. What matters is she’s not going anywhere.”

She scans my face, and her shoulders slump. “Jesus. You love her?”

Also none of her business. I turn away and head toward the kitchen, expecting her to follow. “Did you get the recording?”

She catches up with me, dips a hand into her purse, and holds up a flash drive.

I take it from her, hoping to hell I’ll never have to use it.

In the kitchen, Ivory bends over my multi-thousand-dollar Astra coffee machine, squinting at all the switches. When she looks up, her attention locks on Deb, and a muscle bounces in her cheek.

She refocuses on me, her finger blindly, sassily, stabbing at buttons. “This thing doesn’t work.”

I feel my grin all the way to my cock. “Did you put the beans in?”

“Beans?” She stares at the funnel on top. “This?”

Adorable. With my hands on her hips, I scoot her to the side.

Deb settles in at the island behind us. “Nice place.”

The confirmation that she’s never been here should soothe some of Ivory’s bratty jealousy. I sneak a peek at her.

Nope. Ivory’s arms return to a crossed position beneath her heaving tits.

Focusing on the coffee, I level the beans in the scoop, discarding the ones that rise above the rim. It’s an impractical habit, one I enjoy for the pure trivia of it.

“Sixty beans?” Ivory asks.

“Yes.” I share a smile with her, marveling at the richness of her mind. “If I fill the scoop right to the rim.”

Deb watches us from the island. “Why sixty?”

Ivory leans against the counter. “Beethoven counted out sixty beans every time he brewed coffee. He claimed that made the perfect cup.” She raises her eyebrow at me. “He was rigidly meticulous.”

She’s trying to insult me, but I know she loves my attention to detail.

“So…Ivory?” Deb perches her chin on her hand. “Are you a musician, like Emeric?”

“Yes.” Ivory smiles, sweetly. “Emeric and I went to Leopold together.”

What is she up to?

Her grin doesn’t look as sweet when she glares in my direction. “He still has a hard time accepting that I graduated with higher honors than he did.”

I bite down on the inside of my cheek. I’m going to welt her so raw she sees triple.

With the coffee brewed and poured, Deb spends the next twenty minutes outlining her adulterous affair with the dean’s husband, Howard Rivard. She’s been f*cking Mr. Rivard for weeks, without his knowledge of the recordings or suspicion of blackmail. It’s more than enough.

Ivory refuses to join us at the island, maintaining her stubborn position against the back counter. During Deb’s accounts, Ivory’s expression morphs between shock and disgust, all while maintaining a heavy glare of antagonism.

Deb seems oblivious, her attention completely focused on me. “For an old guy, he’s really quite virile.” She winks at me. “But he’s got nothing on you, Sir.”

“That’s it.” Ivory charges toward the island and slams a hand on the surface, the other pointing shakily at Deb. “Who is she to you?”

Glancing at my wrist, I realize I’m not wearing my watch. But I know it’s still early. I’ll have plenty of time before her performance to draw out an appropriate punishment.

Pretending to ignore Ivory’s outburst, I stand. “Thank you, Deb, for seeing this through.”

She rises, glancing at Ivory and back to me, her lips turned down. “This is it, then.”

“It is.” There’s only one woman in my future, and she’s due for a spanking. “I’ll walk you out.”

Ivory’s fuming glare follows me into the hall until I turn the corner. I wish Deb well at the door, close it with a relieved sigh of finality, and return to the kitchen.

Ivory paces along the counter, hands balled at her sides. “You’ve had sex with that woman. That much is obvious. But what else is going on? Why does she do things for you?” Her tone rises to a maniacal pitch, her strides quickening as she circles the island. “Oh, right. Because she wants you. She’s so f*cking hot for you I’m surprised she didn’t pull your dick out and suck—”

“Ivory.”

The strike of my voice brings her pacing to a full stop.

Lacing my fingers behind my back, I give her a list of short, specific commands and punctuate it with a stern, “Go.”