Page 57 of Double Down

Just as the man on the other end picks up, Conrad taps his cell screen and the toy inside me hums to life, pressing vibrations directly against my clit and G-spot.

“Oh, God,” I cry out quietly—and slap my hand over my mouth.

Ink blurs as my pen digs a crescent into the page while the line crackles a hello. Meanwhile, I’m trying to focus and keep the orgasm on the edge of my vision from spilling over.

13

Conrad

“Oh, God,”Phoenix cries, her hand slapping over her mouth as she stares at the phone in horror.

“I have to admit, it’s not the first time I’ve answered to ‘God,’” Atticus says on the other line. Her body eases at his voice. “But it’s not my preferred title from you, kitten.”

“I don’t think she was talking to you,” I say, turning the dial up just to watch her jaw drop, her shoulders round, and the fight ripple through her posture as she tries to control her reaction.

“That’s five, princess,” I add, before turning my attention back to the call. “Did you find anything?”

“Nothing really. Mav’s new office had a bug, but it’s dealt with. My dad’s office had a camera, but I don’t think it was meant for me.”

“Who was it meant for?”

“Judging by the thick layer of dust and the smell of greed and desperation, I’m assuming one of my mother’s PIs put it there tocatch his infidelity so she could cash in on the Vale name without losing half of the fortune.”

I hold back a laugh.

Neither of Atticus’s parents are faithful, and his mother cheats almost as much as his father does. I doubt cheating evidence will help either of them in their never-ending cold-war divorce. No one holds their bullshit against Atticus, but it still drives him batshit.

“Are you staying in your sanctuary or moving to the office?”

“Both,” he sighs. I glance at Phoenix—eyes shut, forehead tight, a single bead of sweat tracing its way down her temple. She’s gripping the edge of the table like it might save her.

“Going to clone yourself and be in two places at once?”

“I fucking wish,” he says, exhaustion roughening the words. “I’ll work numbers in the office. People expect to see me there. And I’ll leave programs running in the sanctuary to hunt our hackers. I know they’re still watching us; I’d rather not make it easy.”

“Makes sense. What do you need?”

“That clone sounds nice,” he jokes. “Until then—did you talk contracts with the cleaning-supply vendor?”

“Yeah. Combining orders won’t save us anything.”

“Who did you talk to?” Phoenix asks, eyes still screwed shut, palm flat on the table, fingertips curled white against the wood.

“Marvin. Why?”

She opens her mouth, closes it again, trembling. I turn off the vibrator, and she collapses into the chair.

“Why, Princess?” I repeat.

“Marvin’s cousin manages the steakhouse and his brother-in-law runs the Bourbon Room.”

“Okay, and?” Atticus bites out, sharper than usual. He needs sleep. Especially if he’s snapping at Phoenix.

“And he adds line items to the bills, then he and the managers split the difference so they all make a little off the top.”

“Are you sure?” Atticus asks. The crisp tick of his keyboard answers for him.

“Yeah. They brag about it. Most of what they pocket ends up back in the casino anyway so I didn’t think about it before now. Carol—the resort’s ordering manager—is thorough. She'd notice. So the last thing Marvin wants is her nose in his business.”