Jericho

I rest my head against the club’s soft leather chair and press my phone to my ear.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Knight’s voice is boardroom-meeting stern. The firmness brings out the slight hint of his French accent, making him sound more like me. “You put the paparazzi on Bastian, didn’t you?”

With a triumphant smile, I glance at the newspaper on the glass-top table between me and my best friend Luc, who arrived moments before Knight called.

The damning words on the front-page headline flow into my mind with sinful delight:

Bastian Grayson exposed for his sexual relations with Governor Teddy Jameson’s seventeen-year-old daughter…

Beneath the headline is a clear picture of Bastian, naked in bed, with Lana Jamison at his beach house.

As if to the add dramatic effect, the club lights bounce off the words and the music below on the dance floor changes to the song “Your dirt will come back to screw with you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I feign innocence, but I know it won’t work with Knight. In all my twenty-nine years of my life, it’s never worked, so he already knows I’m guilty as fuck.

When the scandal hit the national news and the evening press earlier, I expected this call from him. He’s my superior in the Grayson empire. And my older brother.

In times like these, because of our one year-age difference, he always thinks he should take the moral high ground with me like some patron saint. Despite the fact that I know he wishes he had the balls to do half the shit I do to men who cross me.

Even if said man is dear old Bastian, our half-brother and arch nemesis, second to our father.

“Jericho, I know it was you.” Knight’s tone is reprimanding, but he should also be aware that I don’t give a fuck.

Yes, of course it was me. The same way business is business, war is war, like any conqueror, I simply removed an obstacle from my path.

My mission is to get my billion-dollar legacy, which includes the CFO position at the Park Avenue branch of Graysons Inc. and thirty percent ownership of the company.

I’m the senior investment analyst and infrastructure architect at Graysons Inc., but as Bastian works in the company’s finance department, my role crossed over with his.

Months ago, he gave me the weapons to remove his ass as my competition when he threatened to ruin Knight’s marriage to his wife, Aurora, and leak dark secrets that could have gotten her father killed. I retaliated by finding dirt on Bastian that fought fire with fire when I came across pictures and a sex tape of him and Lana Jamison.

The deal was we’d keep it quiet if Bastian ceased and desisted any actions he sought to ruin Knight and his family.

Bastian played by the deal, but he didn’t realize I was the devil lying in wait for the right moment to expose him. I don’t believe in swapping evil for evil. It also didn’t sit well with me that Bastian—a grown man of twenty-eight—was fucking around with a young girl of seventeen. I knew that couldn’t have been okay with Knight either.

On the contrary, I had a huge ulterior motive, which was to remove Bastian from my path when the time was right. That time is now.

I guessed that Bastian wasn’t going to stop seeing Lana, and I was right. All I did was wait for the right time and place to tip off the press.

“I did nothing wrong.” I widen my smile. “I wasn’t the idiot who got involved with a minor. Let alone Teddy Jamison’s daughter.”

Luc laughs, and I grin back at him. He continues listening on with keen interest. He’s heard and seen enough to get the gist of what’s happening.

Knight sighs. “This might come back to bite us in the ass. Somehow, someway.”

That comment there is the perfect illustration of the differences between us. People tend to think because we look so similar with the black hair, muscular build, and six-feet-four stature, we have the same temperament, but we don’t.

Knight is as ruthless as I am, but he thinks too much. I, on the other hand, am the rebel. I don’t waste time thinking about shit. I take action and dole out vengeance before a motherfucker can think of screwing with me.

“Dear Knight, I think you’ll find that neither Bastian nor Father can do anything to us. They’ll be more scared than ever because I have the sex tape.”

“I know, but I’m sure you understand my worries. You can never tell what either of them will do, especially if they suspect you.”

“Believe me, they won’t do anything, even if they might suspect I’m involved. The press caught Bastian live and in action in bed with Lana. On this occasion, Bastian dug his own grave, lay in it, then buried himself alive.”

Neither Bastian nor Father are stupid enough to come after me. If they’re dumb enough to try, they know I’ll only come back stronger. And I would. I’m willing to bet Bastian was with Lana before she turned seventeen. In New York, seventeen is the age of consent, which means if I find one little thing that places him with her before her seventeenth birthday, Bastian will go down for statutory rape.

I don’t know what kind of legal punishment he’ll get, but I know her father will raise hell. He won’t allow Bastian to get away with being with his precious daughter. Teddy will undoubtedly ruin him.

“I guess you’re right.” Knight sounds more at ease.

“I am. So, how about you stop worrying, and I see you at work in the morning?”

Knight smirks. “Alright. See you then.”

We hang up, and I focus on Luc. He straightens, moves a lock of his dark hair away from his eye, and lifts his chin toward the newspaper.

“I won’t bother to ask you to elaborate.” He gives me a cunning grin.

“It’s better if you don’t.” I sit forward and slide the newspaper to the side to give us room. “That’s one more secret to shove under the rug.”

He chuckles. “Well, let’s leave it there. Knowing you, it’s probably fucked-up shit that will get me in trouble.”

“Indeed.”

Luc has been Knight and my best friend since we were kids. Knight and I lived in France until our early teens when we moved to New York to live with our grandparents. Before the move, Luc was the friend we’d see first thing when we visited in the summer breaks.

Luc is the same age as Knight, so he did most of his schooling with him, including going to Princeton. However, the two of us share a special villainous bond I don’t have with Knight.

Luc plays professional ice hockey now for the Hawks, New York’s NHL team. Although they’re in the middle of the hockey season, he made time to help me with my latest venture. He’s the only person I can trust with the details of the plan to get my inheritance. I usually tell Knight everything, but this is one time when I can’t. And won’t.

I trust Knight with my life, but sometimes, he lives too far up my grandfather’s ass. For the next part of my grand plan, I need the kind of secrecy you take to your grave.

“Well, on to more important items to discuss.” Luc pulls out a document from the folder he’s carrying. “I have some seriously hot women for you to interview.”

On hearing that, I smile and slide my phone back into my pocket. “Show me.”

He chuckles. “I have a list of ten potential women I think will be a great match for you.”

He sets the document on the table and opens the file to the first page, showing headshots of ten beautiful women who are most definitely my type.

I nod with satisfaction and flick through the pages, liking what I’m seeing from one page to the next.

Luc and I decided to meet here at Club Edge because it’s more discreet than our usual hangout. It’s a high-end gentleman’s club on the other side of town where the patrons who frequent the place are willing to spend a fortune just to get a lap dance.

Usually, we come for the strippers, but tonight, Luc is here to help me with the hardest part of my plan to get my legacy—finding a wife.

Except what I need is a fake wife. A woman I’ll hire to play out the rest of this game with me.

Ten months ago, my grandfather announced his retirement from Grayson Inc. and decided to split the company into two separate entities.

Knight fulfilled his task to become the CEO. Now I’m doing my part. To do so, my grandfather stipulated—with no exceptions—that I needed to get married.

Find a wife and fix what he thinks is a playboy image after my own little brush with the paparazzi, then I’d get the position I’ve come to crave.

It’s ironic given the fact that at one time in my life, I wanted nothing more than to create my own path and turn my back on the Grayson name.

Luc is here because I’m running out of time. I initially had three months, but now I barely have eight weeks to find a wife. Then I have to be married to my said wife for six months before I’m handed the CFO position. The cherry on top of the shit is if I get divorced before one year of marriage, I forfeit the entire offer.

My grandfather is hell bent on me finding real love and settling down the way Knight did. That’s the reason for all the rules and the time scale. I’m happy Knight found love, but I’m not about that life.

My grandfather believes I’m currently dating with a view to marriage, but I’m doing things my way and just enough to tick all the boxes to make everything look legit.

The lucky woman I choose will enter a contractual relationship with me and receive a million dollars up front for the job. At the end of our marriage, she’ll receive another million.

“Are they to your liking?” Luc asks, raising a hope-filled brow.

“Chef’s kiss.” I smirk, raising my fingers briefly to my lips. “You did good, Luc.”

“Perfect. They’ve all signed NDAs, and I’ve spoken to them at length, making them aware of what you need and the time scale.”

“Thanks, man. I owe you one.”

“No worries, bro.”

Luc has done way better than I did. I think the gravity of the situation made me too anxious to get my head together. I kept finding fault with every potential woman I could think of. Then I realized none of them would be trustworthy enough not to try and screw me over.

Since the women Luc knows are slightly better than the company I keep, I knew he’d come through for me.

Mischief brightens his eyes, and he flicks the pages to a dark-haired beauty with striking blue eyes. Her name is Celeste.

“You might want to start with her. The gorgeous Megan Fox look-alike. She’s twenty-five, a personal trainer with a great pair of tits and a perfect ass. You can’t go wrong.”

I agree, but more than anything, as beautiful and perfect as she is, I feel nothing. I have no heart. That part of me is dead inside.

“Sure, I’ll start with her.”

“Cool. I’ll set up a date with her first, then each of the girls every day for the next week. I’m in Tampa all of next week for a few games, so maybe you’ll make your choice by then, and we can move on to the next stage.”

“The marriage.” Every time I say that word, I feel hollow inside.

“Yeah. The marriage.”

I hate that I’m at the mercy of my grandfather, but if it’s one thing I know about him, the great Bradford Grayson, it’s that you either play by his rules or lose by your own.

I have the greatest respect and love for my grandfather. For how he took care of Knight and me, and for how he built the Grayson empire to what it is today.

Grayson Inc. is a world-renowned multibillion-dollar international company that is second to none in the real estate and property development market.

It was built on the back of Grayson men, but my grandfather started it all, and he wants his legacy to continue in the way he wants, so I’m either in or out.

Being out is not an option for me. A new path was paved for me the day Grandfather decided to split the company. From that day onward, I saw no other way, so here I am—planning to get married.

“Have you thought about how this is going to really work?” Luc gives me a skeptical stare. “What if your grandfather finds out you’re doing this?”

“He won’t.” Even I know I sound overly confident. No one should be like that because nothing is ever guaranteed. Especially when you have to rely on other people to accomplish your goals. In my case, I’ll have to exercise some element of trust for the woman I choose to be my wife. That already rubs me the wrong way, but this has to work. “I can’t let him find out, so that’s not an option.”

“Well, I’m routing for you, and I’m here if you need me.” Although he still looks skeptical, he nods and raises his glass of scotch to make a toast. “To success.”

I lift mine, too, and clink my glass with his. “Success for both of us.”

This is an important year for him, too. Last year, he led his team to victory, and they won the world championships. This years’ goal is to defend their title.

“Cheers to success for us both.” He smiles with appreciation.

We drink, and the music changes again, growing a fraction louder to signal the start of the main show.

We’re sitting in the VIP section, which is two floors above the main floor. Up here the music is usually low so you can carry a conversation without interruption, but when the main show begins, the volume is the same as it is everywhere else for the first five minutes.

The lights dim, and a spotlight lights up the large stage between the two smaller ones by the bar with strippers wearing nothing but barely-there thongs and feathered boas.

I was told the owners of the place used to be Cirque du Soleil stars and have an eccentric taste for mixing dark sexual fantasies with art. Months ago, when I was here, they had a Vegas-style burlesque show. Tonight, it looks like they might be doing something different.

The curtains open, revealing streams of long, red, silky material flowing from the ceiling to the floor. Like a flower in bloom, the middle opens, revealing a fiery-red-haired aerial dancer who loops the material around her body so she can somersault into some unreal split position.

Her long hair is up in a ponytail, but it flows down her body, blending with the red material. The nude-colored, sleeveless leotard covering her toned body and perky tits leaves very little to the imagination. The only color on her is the red from the material and that hair, along with a dusting of glitter that sparkles as she moves. She looks beautiful and graceful. Like she drifted out of a dream.

I never watch anything like this anymore. It’s unbecoming of the person I am now who’s mainly known for my net worth from Graysons Inc. and position on the Forbes Billionaire list.

“Wow, they really went all out tonight,” Luc says, staring at the girl as if she’s an exotic meal waiting for him to feast on.

“Yeah, they did.” I have some more of my drink.

I’m about to look away so I can get back to the document of potential wives, but something about the girl catches my eye. It’s the way she moves.

I can’t see her face from where I am, but there something… familiar about her.

Something that lures me to continue staring the way I used to in another life when my heart wasn’t so cold, and I knew a dancer with similar auburn hair I used to call mine.

The crowd goes wild as she flips her lithe body into another round of somersaults, then makes it look like she’s going to fall to the ground. But she doesn’t. Instead, she lands into another split in the air.

An aerial hoop floats down toward her, and she steps onto it.

When she floats up and the hoop moves over to us, I see her face, and all the blood in my body slams into the pit of my stomach, as if a brick wall has been shoved inside me. My lungs freeze at the same time I’m wrapped in an Arctic storm of confusion, but realistically, there’s nothing to be confused about.

This woman looked familiar to me because she is.

I know her. The same way a person knows their name or the back of their hand.

At one point in my life, I used to know every inch of her, too.

The last time we were this close, she was just a girl.

My girl.

The girl who was forbidden to me.

River…

River St. James.

That’s her name.

She sees me, too, and the expression on her beautiful face I haven’t seen in eight years must mirror the shock paralyzing me.

“Oh my God,” Luc mutters under his breath. I don’t have to look at him to know he recognizes her, too. Back in high school, he was the only one who knew about us.

I never even told Knight about the girl I loved and lost on purpose.

Lost on purpose because of what I did…

The last time we were this close, I broke her heart.

Now here she is.

Dancing in a strip club.