Page 3

THREE

KENJI

I stepped off the plane into a tropical paradise. Despite the first-class seat and the large amount of work I’d been able to finish overnight, eleven hours of flying had left me feeling stiff and restless. The warm air sliding under my hair and across my skin was a much-needed improvement over the cold, dark city I’d left behind.

The island nation of San Cordova was sunny and breezy. Rolling hills in the near distance were striped with regimented rows of coffee plants, and the mountains beyond were covered in the deep green of tropical trees. Seabirds swooped lazily over the water on the other side of us, and the sun’s reflection danced on the waves.

There was a sense of peace here, completely the opposite of the bustle of the city. As I moved with the other passengers through customs and into the luggage hall of the tiny, open airport, I forced myself to drop my shoulders and leave the stress of New York behind.

I was here to relax. To focus on myself. To be mindful and meditative. To anchor myself for the coming year and reflect on the previous one.

To take stock of where I was in my life, what I wanted, and what changes I needed to make.

I stood up straighter and brushed the wrinkles out of my trousers just as my phone buzzed with a message from one of my bosses in the Brotherhood.

Bash

I know you’re on vacation, but do you know who we use for liability insurance? I can’t find it anywhere.

My blood pressure inched up.

Why? What’s going on?

Bash

Don’t worry about it. Was his name Jim Something? Jed?

I took a deep breath and pulled up the contact for Jessica Covey before sharing it with Bash.

Bash

I was close. Thanks!

I slid the phone back into my pocket and stepped forward to grab my suitcase when the luggage attendant flung it off his metal cart and into the collection area. Several other tourists were doing the same, and I wondered which ones were there for the retreat.

Near the exit doors, an attractive young man in a clean white tank and tan linen pants with leather sandals held up an iPad with the name of the retreat on it.

“Hi, I’m Kenji Toma,” I said, nodding toward his tablet. “I’m one of your arrivals.”

A grin split his warm brown skin as he reached for the handle of my rolling suitcase and handed it off to a man standing slightly behind him who was wearing a uniform branded with the name of the hotel. “Excellent. We’re just waiting for two more, and then we’ll head to the resort. How was your flight?”

We made the necessary small talk as a younger woman and an older man approached to claim the other spots in the transport van. They all continued their friendly chatter as the van bumped along the local streets, passing open-air markets and run-down storefronts interspersed with flashier souvenir shops. It reminded me of a trip to an island in Belize I’d made with the Brotherhood several years ago. They’d spent the week scuba diving and lounging in the sun while I’d taken the opportunity of having them all together to get critical papers signed and nail down business decisions and planning details.

Now, finally, I was set to have a relaxing island vacation of my own.

The warm air floated in the open windows of the van. Once we’d left the small city center, the air carried a slight floral scent mixed with the salty tang of the ocean. Soft steel-drum music playing from the van’s speakers sent a clear message to my body that it was relaxation time.

Unfortunately, I didn’t speak that language. I hadn’t in the years I’d worked for the Brotherhood and, if I was honest, not before that, either. How did you relax when your idea of a good time was achieving goals? I wasn’t sure, but I was here to learn.

My body remained tense for the remainder of the drive along the coast. I gazed out of the window toward the ocean and wondered if Landry had made it back to his place without incident. It had only been six months since he’d been clipped by a car crossing a street on one of his runs, and I worried about him.

Not because I cared about him more than I cared about any of the other members of the Brotherhood I worked for, of course. Because I didn’t. But because I would have a mountain of hospital bills and scheduling changes to manage if…

I closed my eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath, remembering what Chaska said about stress.

“To avoid stress, begin by anchoring yourself in the present moment. Breathe deeply, for every breath is a reminder that you are alive, and life is resilient.”

I inhaled for four long seconds, held it for a beat, and then exhaled slowly before opening my eyes. The waves continued to tumble rhythmically in the distance, a reminder that this world was way bigger than anything I could ever have to be concerned about.

My phone buzzed again. I knew I needed to turn it off, but old habits were hard to break. I’d turn it off when I reached the hotel.

Landry

Did you make it okay?

My heart did a little pirouette. Before I could stop myself, I typed a response.

Aren’t you supposed to be at your shoot?

Landry

Finished already. Slayed, obvi. How’s the weather? According to my app, it’s sunny and warm there.

I took a photo of the sea with the afternoon sun glinting off it and hit Send.

Landry

Well, fuck me.

No thanks.

A photo of Landry’s devastatingly beautiful face popped up in the window. He was wearing a teasing, knowing grin that completely called bullshit on my response.

And he was right. If there was one thing about Landry I couldn’t deny liking , it was his talent in bed. I’d let him fuck me pretty much whenever and wherever he wanted. And I had . Frequently, despite my better judgment.

I stared at the photo and drew my finger over a flyaway wisp of blond hair caught by the wind.

“That your man?” the lively woman next to me asked, startling me into nearly dropping my phone.

I quickly clicked my screen off and cleared my throat. “Oh, er. No? No. I work for him. At work.”

She looked at me knowingly. “If I worked with someone that good-looking, I’d never get anything done. He looks like a famous actor or something.”

I didn’t explain that she probably subconsciously recognized him from something. Landry got that a lot, people knowing they knew him “from somewhere” but not being able to put their finger on it.

“He’s actually a cocky asshole,” I muttered. “Sometimes the most annoying things come in lovely packaging.”

Her smile faded until her eyes lit up. “Oh my gosh. You’re so right. I once got a wall mirror from a home decor store, and it came with this super-sick custom box with a magnetic flap closure. Inside was just the fastener to hang the mirror on the wall. Here I thought there’d been a gift with purchase.”

“No,” I said, hiding a smile. “Just a basic screw with a beautiful presentation.”

She tried to think of other examples, mentioning the collectible glass jar she’d bought Nutella in at Christmas and the pink tissue paper and satin ribbon that her everyday sports bra had been wrapped in at the shops.

“But back to this guy in your phone. What do you do for him?”

I clicked my screen on and glanced down at the photo. Just seeing Landry’s face, the pert nose and piercing eyes, did something to me. Orgasm, mostly , I thought.

I bit my lip and tried to stay focused. “I’m an executive assistant. He’s one of my bosses.”

The woman, who’d introduced herself as Lindsey, bounced her eyebrows. “Are the others that pretty?”

I sighed. “I mean, kind of.”

“So, like, you make them coffee and do their… accounting and stuff?”

“I do whatever needs to be done,” I said. “Scheduling, negotiations, project management, communications and correspondence, crisis management, you name it, I’m probably in charge of it.”

She turned in her seat to face me as if settling in for a salacious story. “Oooh. What kind of crisis management? Anything good?”

I thought of some of the doozies. Handling a man who’d fraudulently claimed to be the owner of Bash’s company. Untangling Silas from an accidental Vegas marriage to a stranger. Navigating Dev’s sudden fatherhood to a baby he didn’t know he had. And finally, dealing with multiple threats against Zane’s life while he was on a world tour.

“No,” I said, hearing my voice squeak a little. “Mostly regular stuff. Now that you mention it, I do grab a lot of coffee.”

She gave a dreamy sigh. “I wouldn’t mind fetching coffee for that one.”

“What do you do?” I asked out of politeness.

“I’m a lifestyle influencer.”

There were many, many ways of responding to this, but in the end, I said, “How interesting. Do you enjoy it?”

By the time we’d pulled into the resort’s porte cochere, I regretted asking. Lindsey seemed interested in creating social media content while she was at the retreat, which was an interesting choice for a follower of Chaska Inira.

One of my favorite Chaska quotes, which I kept in a widget on my tablet as a helpful reminder, read: True presence is found in the quiet between thoughts . In the spaces where we are not distracted by the pull of distant voices, we learn to enjoy the simple act of being, without the urge to seek what’s elsewhere.

Seemed Lindsey hadn’t gotten to that module of Chaska’s mindfulness course yet.

I glanced down at my phone. Landry’s bright eyes and pouty lips stared back at me mockingly, and my stomach twisted with want.

I turned the phone off with a sigh. It was possible I could use a refresher on that “seeking what’s elsewhere” business myself.

But that was one of the reasons I was here at the retreat. Obviously, I was eager to study mindfulness with a master, but I was also eager to get a little distance from Landry. Remaining in an enemies-with-benefits situation with him wasn’t going to get me to my goals.

I was here to focus on my goals.

As we entered the large, open-air lobby with views of the ocean out the opposite side, I spotted tasteful signage for the retreat. One of the signs read: “Step Away to Step Within: To fully embrace the peace of this retreat, we invite you to turn off your devices and tune in to the rhythm of the present moment. Let the world outside rest while you journey inward. Your mind, heart, and spirit deserve this time of undivided attention.”

Right. It was time. I was well aware of my phone addiction, and I’d gone to great lengths to prepare for my monthlong absence from my job and my commitments by training an assistant and preparing my army of support staff. It would be fine. The world—and the Brotherhood—could survive without me.

I couldn’t imagine someone like Lindsey would respect the strong suggestion to pack away all electronic devices, but I reminded myself that was none of my business.

When I pulled out my phone to power it down, the image of Landry’s face flirted back up at me from the screen.

I didn’t want my last message to be such a rude dismissal, even though I’d been joking.

I’m turning off my phone. Please take care of yourself. And… don’t do anything stupid.

I took one last look at the photo before turning the device off and storing it in the pocket of my suitcase so I wouldn’t keep reaching for it out of habit.

Then, I stepped up to the reception desk to begin my “journey inward.” The sign was right. My mind, heart, and spirit deserved this time of undivided attention.

Fuck undivided attention. I’d only made it two weeks before I was going out of my mind from all of this undivided attention and fucking meditation.

I’d tried my hardest to let go, to teach myself that my own mind-body connection was what mattered and that the connection to others was secondary. But I craved connection to my life, to my family, to the Brotherhood, to… well, to anything that wasn’t cold-pressed juice “rich with antioxidants,” mindful reflection, and picture-perfect serenity.

“Kenji! I thought you were at a monastery in Borneo,” my grandmother said with a laugh when she picked up the phone.

I smiled. “Wrong continent, Baa Baa. You’re probably thinking of Mom and Dad. Aren’t they cruising around Southeast Asia until April?”

“So they’re the ones in Borneo?” Another peal of laughter was followed by a tsk ing sigh. “Who can keep up? For two people who never took a vacation their whole lives, they sure get around. And so do you, come to think of it.”

She wasn’t wrong. After decades of frugality and scrimping to make ends meet, my parents had finally retired five years ago, and my father had been determined to enjoy every single day of his retirement. They’d been cruising nearly continuously since then and loved every minute of it.

I couldn’t talk, since I traveled constantly while working for the Brotherhood.

“I’m at a retreat off the coast of Ecuador,” I reminded her. “In a tiny island country called San Cordova. And it’s a luxury resort for Westerners, complete with Wi-Fi and coffee pods in the room?—”

“Oh, that’s right! You were supposed to be silent for a month.”

I let out a breath. “Not silent , but…”

“Not working on your computer?” she teased. I could hear the smile in her voice.

“No.”

“And so.”

It was so like her, that expression. I grinned. “And so. I realized I missed my Baa Baa. How are things in Boca?”

Instead of interrogating me, she went on to give me all the hot goss from her retirement community. It reminded me of the way she used to catch me up on her soap operas when I had to go back to school in the fall after watching them with her all summer long. And the stories were just as outlandish.

I leaned back in the hammock on my terrace and let the familiar cadence of her voice wash over me. When her update finally wound down, there was comfortable silence for a beat.

“You know,” she began gently. “I’ve been reading that book you gave me at Christmas. I read a very interesting part the other day. Let me find it… ah, here it is. Mindfulness is a powerful tool, but it is not the only tool. Sometimes, the heart calls for connection. ”

“You made that up,” I said with a surprised laugh. While it was true I’d included a book of Chaska’s wisdom in her holiday gift package, I knew without a shadow of a doubt she wouldn’t have cracked it open and actually read it.

“It sounds like him, though, doesn’t it?” she snickered. “And maybe it’s something he’d say. He’s there with you. You could ask him.”

I let out a breath and lowered my voice in case anyone’s terrace was too close to mine. “He’s here, but he’s not…” I tried to think of a respectful way of saying it. “He’s a bit impressed with himself.”

The man was as magnetic in person as I’d envisioned, but he was also, surprisingly, a conspicuous consumer. “He wears a Prada cross-body bag,” I admitted in a whisper.

The sound of her tittering laughter made me laugh, too.

“Oh, honeybunch,” she said affectionately. “Not all life lessons are easy ones.”

“What lesson am I supposed to learn from this? Because the only one that keeps coming to mind is that I’m an unrepentant workaholic. I tried repenting, but it didn’t take. I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Did it ever occur to you that Chaska himself might be enjoying life in moderation rather than attempting extremes? No vow of silence. No vow of poverty. Simply… taking time out to reflect and be intentional. Perhaps you can take a lesson from him and check your email periodically. In moderation.”

The idea of checking my email gave my heart a little jolt of excitement. “You think?”

“We all have our security blankets,” she teased. “Maybe for you, it’s not a Prada bag but your spreadsheets.”

After ending the call with Baa Baa, I moved back into the room and allowed myself to start up my laptop and check my email. Unfortunately, a type A workaholic had put someone else in charge of the damned thing for the month, and everything seemed to be in order. There were absolutely no fires to put out.

The idea that someone else had been able to take over for me without turning everything into a chaotic nightmare was… depressing as fuck.

I clicked through the tidy folders until I froze on the one named Landry. Inside were several emails from Lamar Duane, Landry’s agent. On most of them, I was only copied on the email. Landry had insisted his agent keep me in the loop since I maintained a master calendar for him and managed his travel arrangements.

But one of the emails had been sent directly to me and didn’t even copy Landry.

Why is he doing this, Kenji? Did something happen? I thought I’d have at least a few more years with him before he decided to pursue a different career.

I read the email two more times and then went back to read the others in the Landry folder. They were emails about his retirement from modeling. About decisions not to renew various contracts, to pull out of whatever projects he could pull out of, and to determine whether or not to announce his retirement or simply fade away.

I scrambled for my phone and powered it on to send him a text.

What the fuck? You’re retiring?

It was late, but New York was only an hour later than San Cordova. I waited for a response.

Landry

It’s four in the morning. And why do you have your phone on?

Four? It was only 11:00 p.m. in New York.

Answer my question.

My phone rang, the shrill blare of “I Don’t Need a Man” by Pussycat Dolls in the quiet room scaring the hell out of me.

I quickly pressed the button to answer it. “Tell me you’re not quitting as some kind of… grand gesture,” I began.

When his familiar voice came over the line, my eyes began to sting. Maybe I was allergic to long-distance phone calls all of a sudden. “Not everything is about you, Kenji.”

Great. Now, my pride was stinging, too. “No, I know. That’s not what I meant. I just… what’s going on? Where are you?” I asked, scrambling for his calendar to see if I’d overlooked a European job that would have put him in a different time zone.

“England. My father isn’t doing well.”

His voice was rough from sleep, but I could also hear the strain in it. Since I’d rarely heard of him visiting his father, I realized something must be very wrong for him to be there.

“Are you needed at home? To take care of him?”

The subject of Landry’s family was a touchy one, and he rarely talked about them to me or even anyone in the Brotherhood. We knew he had dual citizenship, due to having an American mother, and that she’d died after a serious illness while he’d been in high school. We also knew he was an only child.

But that was all we knew.

The Brotherhood seemed to think Landry’s reluctance to discuss his early life was because he’d grown up poor—maybe even as poor as Zane had—but privately, I wasn’t so sure. There was a quiet but arrogant confidence about Landry that reminded me of people with old money— big money, the kind that came with power—which made me wonder whether there had been some kind of drama he didn’t want to share. Had his parents been into something shady? Had one of them done time for something he didn’t want us to find out about?

Possibly, I’d watched too many of Baa Baa’s soap operas.

In any case, it was clear I’d never know the truth. Anytime I asked in even the most casual way, Landry would shut me down with a firm “Let’s not talk about that, hmm?” or distract me with his talented lips and tongue until I couldn’t remember my own past, let alone his. All of which just went to prove that Landry might trust me to manage his billion-dollar investments and legal matters, as I did for the rest of the Brotherhood, and to keep a handle on his modeling career… but when it came to his family matters, I didn’t have the right security clearance to know a damn thing.

Which was one of many reasons Landry Davis annoyed the fuck out of me. He claimed to want a serious relationship with me, yet he was the one putting up giant barbed-wire roadblocks to keep me at arm’s length.

No one owed anyone else all the gory details of their past. I believed that. But at a certain point, his omissions had started to feel like a lie. And if Landry couldn’t be honest with me, any hope of a serious relationship was dead in the water.

“No, my father…” Landry began, stopping himself before continuing. “He’ll be alright.”

I held back a sigh. “Is he sick? Is it temporary? Maybe you could hire him some help and make sure he’s getting medical care?—”

“No. He has help and doctors and everything. It’s just… I feel pressure to be here.”

There was a thread of stress in his voice that made me wonder if this issue with his father had led to his sudden retirement from modeling.

“Are you… are you planning on moving back to England? Helping him more permanently?”

“No, god no. No . I’m just here for another few days, then I’m headed to Majestic for Lellie’s birthday.”

“You’re avoiding my original question,” I pointed out. “What brought up the idea of retirement?”

I heard the rustle of bedsheets and imagined bare-chested, messy-haired Landry in bed. “You’re alone, right?” I blurted before he could say anything.

There was silence on the other end. “Not exactly…”

I sucked in a breath. “Oh.” My stomach soured, and my heart contracted. I swallowed . Oh.

“As for retirement, I just decided I’m done starving and dehydrating myself for money. I don’t need the money, and I’m past the point of feeling like the ego stroke makes up for it. Besides, it’s time. I don’t want to start getting polite rejections as the industry begins to prefer the younger guys.”

I bit back a scoff at the idea he was anything other than in the highest demand. Landry Davis was considered one of the most beautiful men in the world, and that wasn’t about to change when he got a few more years under his belt.

“I can’t say I’m disappointed to hear it,” I admitted. “The schedule was killing you. Not to mention the physical demand it’s been taking on your body.”

He let out a sleepy laugh. “There are physical demands on my body I’m more interested in these days than the ones from modeling.”

His innuendo reminded me he wasn’t alone. “Right. Well… I should let you get back to… whoever.”

“Are you jealous?” he asked incredulously. “ You ? The man who all but begged me to go fuck someone else when he left?”

“I did not,” I snapped. “I only wanted to make it clear that you didn’t have to do without simply because I?—”

The rhythmic buzz of a cat’s purr came over the line. I waited a beat to make sure I was hearing what I thought I was hearing.

“Is that… is that a cat?”

“Kenji Toma, may I introduce you to the ever-faithful yet ever-finicky Lady Bayliss of Kent. Otherwise known as Turkey.”

I was stunned speechless. “A cat? You have a cat?”

“My father has a cat. Well, more accurately, his… helper, Nan, has a cat. But she tends to defect to my room whenever I’m visiting. What can I say? I’m a joy to sleep with. At least someone thinks so.”

He made it sound like he visited fairly regularly, which made me wonder if he’d managed to stop in on his way to and from European jobs and I just hadn’t known. I wanted to ask him about it, but I was more interested in determining if the cat was the only thing keeping him warm at night.

“So… when you said you weren’t there alone…”

“I’m snuggled up with Turkey.”

The swell of relief I felt was borderline disgusting and humiliating. I swallowed. “Right. Well, I should let you go regardless. Why did my text wake you up? Don’t you mute your phone at night?”

Landry hesitated. “Certain contacts are allowed to break through.”

I was secretly touched by this. Until the asshole opened his mouth again. “You know, in case I’m arrested and need someone to bail me out.”

It wasn’t funny because it had actually happened. More than once.

“Maybe if you made an effort not to get arrested, you wouldn’t need to receive my calls in the middle of the night.”

“True. I wouldn’t need to. But Kenji?”

“What?”

“I’d still want to. Good night.”

I stared at the phone as he ended the call. Within moments, a photo flashed up in our text window.

A sleepy Landry was full-spooning a beautiful gray-and-white cat. The man had a shit-eating grin on his face, but all I could focus on were his hands, casually stroking the cat.

His fingers were long and strong, familiar. Those hands had touched me absolutely everywhere. Had spent hours as devoted servants to my pleasure. Had teased and tormented me until I broke, crying out for release.

Those long fingers had been inside of me, probing, pressing, stretching. They’d tangled in my hair and teased my skin with the barest of caresses.

I stared at them, remembering.

Landry Davis was an incredible lover. In bed, he was kind and generous, attentive and aware. He was hyperfocused and dedicated. He was loving and committed.

But the second we got dressed and back to our real lives, he shifted seamlessly into the flippant, unserious playboy narcissist who treated his past like a state secret.

Which was the real Landry?

Even after all these years, I didn’t know.

At Christmas in Majestic, he’d seemed crushed after he’d made the play for something more than enemies with benefits and I’d politely declined. I’d assumed, for good reason, that his disappointment came from childish annoyance that I’d said no to him. That he hadn’t won .

Now, I wondered whether I’d read the situation wrong. Whether there had been actual feelings involved?—

But it didn’t matter. At least, it shouldn’t. Until Landry Davis figured out who he was and began trusting me with the truth of his past, any chance at a deeper connection was never going to happen.

I shut down my laptop and turned off my phone again.

Which was how I missed the first news alerts.