"Look at me, Kia," he snarled.

She turned back to him. "We have nothing to discuss, Mr. Stanton. Please let me by."

Reining in her own anger wasn't easy. For two years he had caused her no end of grief. He had managed to interfere with several of the charitable projects she still chaired through her father's company, where he still had a job. He continually played the abused partner to her parents and managed to draw some sympathy from them.

"You're whoring yourself for them." Anger stamped his features. "He wouldn't agree to be a third two years ago; do you think he's doing it now for any reason other than the friendship of that bastard Khalid?"

Shock ripped a gash through her soul as he spat the words at her. Good Lord, surely he hadn't asked Chase… Not that. But she knew he would have. That he had. And Chase had never said a word.

"Stay away from me, Drew!" She stepped up to him, snapping the order into his face, baring her teeth as rage began to tear through her. "Stay away from me or I'll have a restraining order placed against you. I won't tell you a second time."

She pushed past him as he suddenly stepped back, surprising her. She swept through the doors, hailing a cab that just happened to be passing and stepping into it quickly. She was shaking, furious.

He had asked Chase to be his third, and Chase had never told her? She wanted to cover her face in mortification. Whether because he had asked, or because Chase had turned him down, she couldn't decide.

She felt humiliated to the very core of her being and prayed now that she didn't see Chase anytime soon. God, how messed up could her life get?

Khalid stepped up to Drew Stanton slowly from where he had stood in an alcove, his gaze unblinking, his expression still and calm; he made certain of it.

The smaller man paled, rather as he had done the night he had attempted to rape his wife and found the point of Khalid's dagger against his throat.

Khalid had agreed to be his third once. Once, because Drew's wife had that latent, unawakened sensuality that always attracted Khalid.

If he'd wondered about Drew giving him the key to the apartment and the time to arrive, then Khalid hadn't questioned it. Each member of Ian Sinclair's men's club had his own way of handling such affairs, just as Khalid did.

When he arrived, Kia had appeared lost in the pleasure her husband had been giving her. As Khalid joined, it hadn't taken long to learn that pleasure was drunkenness, and when she realized another man had touched her, hysteria had filled her.

He couldn't blame her. He thanked God daily that Stanton had heeded the point of Khalid's dagger and never revealed who his third was that night.

"I wasn't bothering her." Drew dampened his lips nervously as his back came against the wall.

Khalid stopped.

"I can have you killed slowly," he whispered to him then. "Stolen from your bed, taken to a desert that will never know your name, and tortured until you beg for hell. Do you want this, little man?" he insulted him.

Drew paled alarmingly.

"You have harmed her enough," Khalid stated.

"She's my wife."

Khalid smiled slowly. "You wish to see hell?"

Drew shook his head quickly.

"Then heed my warning. Heed it well. Because we both know, worm, I would have no problem cutting your balls off and feeding them to my pets. Don't we?"

He didn't wait for a response. He moved to the doors instead and left the restaurant as his limo pulled up to the curb.

Sliding into the back he looked into the rearview mirror where his chauffeur watched him.

"Ms. Rutherford's apartment building, Abdul. It seems I have some business there."

Abdul nodded and the limo slid smoothly from the curb. Perhaps, Khalid thought, he should have just killed Drew Stanton when he had the proper excuse. Now that messy conscience of his would just bother Khalid.

For a day or two.

Chapter 8

Chase slammed the file drawer closed, ignoring his twin's amusement, before he paced back to his desk and sat down heavily. He opened the next file, but damned if he could see a word he was reading. All he could think about was Kia. That damned stoic, somber look on her face the last time he'd seen her. Her gaze had been quiet; there hadn't even been anger there, just this prideful acceptance that he wasn't going to stay.

"You know, Marcy Stephens bragged quite horribly about the nights you and Cameron spent in her bed. She swears Cameron was the one who escaped moments after his release and you were the one who petted her through the night. She must have managed to get the two of you mixed up."

His jaw clenched as he remembered the quiet accusation in her voice. He had stayed and held the others through the night, so why couldn't he hold her?

Because he was a damned fool, that was exactly why. Because Kia was like a train wreck waiting to happen to his heart. He couldn't stay the hell away from her, but that didn't mean he had to make things worse by allowing feelings to develop.

Keep it on the physical level, he told himself. Keep emotion out of it and neither of them was going to get hurt.

So why the hell did he feel like the biggest bastard walking because he hadn't called her? Because she hadn't been at that damned dinner the night before he spent the night with her. Because he hadn't asked her to join him and his friends later in the week.

Because he knew he wanted her with him, and he couldn't make himself make the call.

As he sat there mentally kicking himself, the door opened and Ian walked in. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it as Chase lifted his head and glared back.

Ian frowned.

"I'm certain I should blame you for this," he said casually. "I'll find a way to prove it's your fault, Chase."

Chase closed the file and folded his hands on top of it, looking back at his employer with an attempt at politeness.

"What did he do this time?" Cameron asked Ian almost gleefully. "Do we get to flog him?"

"Grow up," Chase snapped back at Cameron.

Ian snorted. "Courtney went shopping today."

Chase grunted at that. "It's not my fault she goes shopping."

"No, but it's entirely your fault, I'm quiet certain of it, that she called me and asked me to please tell you to check your e-mail. Now, my wife is plotting, planning, and conniving, and I'm going to blame you."

Chase felt his balls tighten in fear. Anytime Courtney plotted, planned, or connived, a man needed to be terrified.

He turned to his computer, pulled up the e-mail, and clicked on her message.

This is what she bought at our shopping trip. Won't she look just luscious? And there was an attachment.

Chase clicked the attachment as though it were viral. It opened, the thumbnail pictures causing his heart to begin beating a harsh tattoo as Cameron and Ian moved behind him.

The lingerie was so sinful he was going to explode. Red and black, virginal white, and a deep sapphire blue. Camisettes and camisoles, bustiers and corsets and panties so delicate he swore he could feel a fine film of sweat on his brow as he saw the pictures someone had taken with her cell phone.

And her expression as she chose the items. A little distant, a sensual smile tipping her lips, as though she were imagining what her lover would think.

He clicked off the file quickly.

"Get off!" He snarled back at his brother and employer as he wiped the sweat from his brow and forced himself to remain in his chair rather than rushing to her apartment and begging her, pleading on bent knee, to allow him to see her in each damned article.

"Damn, I hope Jaci was paying attention to what she bought." Cameron sighed. "Better yet, I hope not. I'm too young for a stroke."

A stroke was the least of Chase's worries now.

He lifted his gaze to Ian. "Inform Courtney, please, that was uncalled for." She was conniving against him. He'd known she'd end up doing it, just not this quickly.

Ian grinned. "Yes, I assumed this was your fault. What did you do? Forget the Rutherford girl's birthday? Some kind of personal anniversary?"

Chase almost paled. No, Kia would have never told those women he refused to spend the night with her. But she might have denied a relationship. Because there was no relationship.

"I am not involved in a relationship with her." The words torn from his lips, forced past them.

Ian's brow lifted. He swore Cameron was choking with laughter behind him.

"You don't say," Ian drawled, black brows lifting in his darkly tanned face.

"That's exactly what I said," he growled.

Ian glanced to Cameron. "He's a bit touchy on the subject, isn't he?"

"A bit." Cameron still sounded choked.

Chase was ready to turn and smack the air back in his brother's lungs when his cell phone rang. Picking it up from the desk, he tensed and cursed.

The number for the junior investigator they had watching Kia for any signs that Drew was harassing her showed up on the display.

"Falladay," he answered.

"Mr. Falladay, Mr. Stanton caught Ms. Rutherford in the lobby of a restaurant I followed her to. They had a confrontation. I was able to pick up bits and pieces of it but she left rather upset. I've followed her back to her apartment and Mr. Stanton is now lingering in the lobby there."

"What did you hear?"

The investigator paused.

"Out with it," he snapped.

"Sir, Mr. Stanton informed Ms. Rutherford he requested you as a third one night, and you refused the offer."

Chase froze. He could feel the fury rising inside him now, a bleak, dark wave of sheer rage and knowledge.

"Fuck him." He came out of his chair, ignoring Cameron's and Ian's gazes, sharpening in concern. "Stay on him. I'm heading to the apartment building now."

"Yes, sir."

Chase disconnected the call, shoved the phone into the holster at his belt, then lifted his gaze to Ian.

"Stanton's out of control," he snapped. "I want something done with him."

Ian glanced at Cameron, then back to Chase. "You haven't declared her—"

"We made her a fucking promise," he said. "You contact the committee, Ian. I made her a promise and they backed me on it. They backed me on having the investigator check out the problem, and the problem is there. I want it handled."

Ian's eyes narrowed on him. "Within the bounds of your promise." He nodded slowly. "We'll discuss it when you return."

Chase wasn't listening. He slammed out of the office and moved quickly along the hallways to the front door. His car was waiting in the driveway where he had parked it earlier, the keys hanging in the ignition.

He tore out of the estate in a squeal of rubber and a snarl of fury.

Fucking Stanton, he was going to end up having to kill him at this rate. He was to stay away from Kia. Period. If his fist hadn't made that plain enough two years ago, then Chase figured a bit heavier of a blow might get the point across. Several of them perhaps.

Kia could feel the anger, resentment, and the overwhelming embarrassment rising inside her as she slammed the door to her apartment and tossed the bags that had been waiting for her with the apartment manager to the couch.

They tipped, they spilled, and she didn't give a damn. She had to dash away the furious tears beginning to drip from her eyes.

This was why she had stayed out of society. Because the barbs, the cutting remarks, and the pure cruelties that abounded sliced into her in ways she had no idea how to combat.

And Drew had struck the most telling blow since the night he had told her she wasn't woman enough for him. Hell, that had been even before he had brought his damned third in on her.

Chase had rejected her?

The fact that it wouldn't have mattered who Drew brought in that night was beside the point. The fact that had it been Chase she would have died of mortification was beside the point as well.