Surrounded by four thousand people, Jack sat alone in the front row of the National Cathedral, sorrowful music saturating the air. The seat beside him was vacant, the aisle on his right. To his left was the vice president of the United States and his wife. The President’s Secret Service thought it was too risky for him to attend, but he and his wife had sent their condolences.
It was only right that POTUS be concerned because the man was up for reelection and Jack’s parents had seen to it that he’d been elected the first time. John Edward Ashworth had been a gray eminence in world politics for four decades. No one got nominated for the highest offices in government without the seal of approval of the Ashworth family. That stamp included the wife passing Suzanne Koch Ashworth’s etiquette and grace standard.
The priest and his entourage moved onto the dais.
Most likely, everyone who filled the sanctuary owed his parents in one way or another. Many had approached him privately over the past five days, since the murder of his parents. So many people wanted to know if he was going to assume the void they’d left.
Fuck. No.
But that was Jack’s secret.
He hated politics. He detested the way his parents had used people, often against each other, playing a real-life game of chess. They had wielded their old wealth, old power, and old attitudes as though they were Emperor and Empress of the world. As the only son of an only son, Jack would end the Ashworth reign.
He was a man of action. That’s what he loved about his job. He gave the word and people died leaving the world a better place.
For nearly fifty years, his parents had used their money and influence to nudge the world in a particular direction. Jack could change the world with a well-placed bullet, his influence immediate.
“All rise.” The priest lifted his arms as everyone stood and turned toward the back of the Cathedral.
His mother’s white pearlized casket preceded his father’s made from dalbergia. Each represented them so well, and should, because they had selected their caskets and had them custom-made years ago when his mother had a breast cancer scare.
The lump she was sure was cancerous turned out to be nothing more than a swollen lymph node caused by a cold. His hypochondriac mother had taken to her bed for weeks, sure she was dying. During her time sequestered in her rooms on the east side of their mansion, she insisted that her husband also prepare for death.
As he watched the two caskets move down the long aisle, he was thankful for their preparation. He had been left with very few decisions. His mother had even prepared the agenda for her funeral. Jack had just included his father with her mandates since his father hadn’t bothered with such trivialities.
His mother would have been disappointed in him, though, because he’d refused to have an open-casket viewing. She wanted her silver hair to glisten—using a specified high-gloss hairspray—on the light blue satin casket lining. Although the gunshot wounds went straight through their hearts, the autopsies weren’t nearly as kind to their bodies.
Jack had insisted on closed caskets.
Over the next hour, he was subjected to endless accolades, which included a personal letter written by the President, read by the Vice President. Several Middle Eastern princes spoke about his parents’ generosity to their countries and his mother’s art donations. What they didn’t mention was the billions of barrels of oil his mother’s family bought and refined before selling it to the Africans in Third World countries who couldn’t afford the price.
After the fourth eulogy, Jack blocked out the blubbering behind the pulpit. He was furious that he’d missed Katlin’s first week back at work while dealing with his parents’ murder. Sure, she was on light-duty, but she was in the building. He’d been personally warned by the Secretary to stay away from Katlin. He was not to have any contact whatsoever with her.
Jack inwardly grinned. If she was in the building, he could see her. He’d be able to watch her. He’d been tapping into the security feed, which covered almost every inch of the building, for years. He knew secrets about the people all over that building. His parents had taught him human manipulation very well. Several of those people were included in the large contingent of Homeland Security employees that sat in the row right behind him.
Katlin wasn’t there, though.
Neither was Nikkole. Earlier in the week, he’d needed stress release, and fucking his Katlin look-alike was the answer. He’d warned the near-perfect stand-in not to attend the funerals. The last thing he needed was her distraction.
Had Katlin shown up on her own, though, it would’ve proven to him that she truly cared about him as a man, not just her boss. But she hadn’t shown.
Six hours later, Jack stepped into his Georgetown home and loosened his tie. He took off his suit jacket, folded it neatly, and placed it over the back of the antique couch. As he headed toward the wet bar in desperate need of his favorite scotch, the doorbell rang.
He closed his eyes hoping that it wasn’t Nikkole. Although it had been an extremely stressful day, he didn’t want her company. He poured himself a drink. Maybe if he ignored the bell, whoever was on the other side would simply go away.
At the third ring, Jack gave up and checked the peephole.
Fuck. The homicide detectives were back.
“Detective Schultz, Detective Weber, it’s been a long and stressful day. What do you need from me?”
“We were hoping you might be able to help us identify some of the people at the funeral.” Schultz waved a stack of pictures.
“Jesus Christ. There were four thousand people there. Those were my parents’ friends, not mine.”
“Could you just take a few minutes and look through these faces?” Detective Weber seemed to be the nicer of the two. “Something might click that could give us a new lead in the case.”
With a heavy sigh, Jack opened the door wide and gestured for them to come in. He indicated the uncomfortable 16th-century furniture. He shuffled through the stack, sneering at several of his father’s former fuck babes.
“You recognized someone.” Weber held out his hand for the picture.
Jack pulled three from the stack he’d just perused. “I’m quite sure my father had affairs with all three of these women, but they’re old news. I hadn’t had drinks with him in nearly a month, so I hadn’t been subjected to his bragging lately.”
Weber’s eyes widened at the young beauties. “All three? When?”
“Two, maybe three months ago.” Jack glanced up at the detectives. “He was easily bored. I don’t believe he’s kept a steady mistress for years. When I was young, he often had one or two women he’d visit regularly. They were well-kept. He provided them with an apartment, a driver, and credit cards. He also had other women for a night here and there.”
“Did your mother know about these affairs?” Schultz asked.
Jack burst out laughing. “Hell, she encouraged it. If he was getting laid elsewhere, he wasn’t bothering her. Besides, she had her own stable of men.”
Weber shook his head. “I just don’t understand rich people. My wife would cut off my balls if I even looked twice at a woman.”
Jack nodded. “You’re right, the problem is you don’t understand rich people. My parents were never in love, as I take it you are with your wife. The Ashworth name goes back to the founders of this country, and beyond. My ancestors helped fund the revolution. My father marrying Suzanne Cook was no coincidence. Her parents were equally as wealthy as my father’s. Together, they were an unrivaled power couple.”
“So, you’re saying your parents had an arranged marriage?” Weber shook his head, again. “That’s hard to believe in this day and age.”
Jack’s grin was sarcastic. “They made it work, at least once. I’m living proof of that.”
“Just to clarify, you have no other living siblings?” Schultz asked, pen poised over his small notebook.
“No.” He debated telling them his father’s secret, then decided, what the hell. “After I was born, my mother informed my father that she was never going to go through childbirth again. He needed to make do with one heir. There would never be a spare. He was also welcome to fuck anyone he wanted but she would remain his wife, mother of his only child. The next day, my father went out and got a vasectomy and my mother moved into the east wing of the house. My entire life they had separate bedrooms. They also led separate lives privately. Publicly was a completely different story. They both had multiple affairs over the years, so if you’re looking for a jilted lover, that’s going to be a long list.”
Detective Weber rubbed his hands over his face. “Thanks for letting us be there for the reading of the will the other day. Your mother would’ve been proud of their funeral.”
“I couldn’t disobey my mother’s wishes in death any more than I could during her life,” Jack admitted.
“So, Mr. Ashworth, what are you going to do with all those billions?” Detective Schultz held his gaze. “Quit your job and buy a Caribbean island?”
“I enjoy my job. What I do is important and I’m uniquely qualified for it.” Jack knew he sounded snobbish but he didn’t care. “I was born wealthy and decided to serve my country as a foreign service officer before moving to Homeland Security. My parents were never happy with my decision. I didn’t care then, and I don’t care now.”
Jack had enough. He stood. “Gentlemen, it’s been a long day. I intend to return to work tomorrow, which starts very early in the morning.” He moved toward the front door. “Next time, please call me first before coming over. I can assure you, if I’m entertaining, I won’t answer the door.” On that cue, he swung the front door open.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Ashworth. Next time, we’ll call.” Schultz waved as he trotted down the steps.
“Thanks for the insight.” Under his breath, Weber added, “Rich people are really fucked-up.”
Jack closed the door and turned the deadbolt. “Detective, you have no idea.” He poured himself three fingers of his favorite libation and went to the sitting room off his bedroom. He collapsed in his recliner, propping his feet up.
Excitement about seeing Katlin the next day, vicariously watching her work, filled his mind…and his dreams.
The first thing Jack did when he sat down at his desk was to log into his most-secret part of the system. Then, he hunted until he found Katlin. They had her working in the audio-video department. They kept the rooms down there darkened but her face was illuminated with the light of her computer screen. She looked at the reel.
How perfect. Katlin was his angel.
When he started to get hard, he stroked himself, his hand hidden under his desk. He was about to step into his private bathroom and take care of his erection when the intercom buzzer jolted him out of his fantasy.
“Mr. Ashworth, Agent Chernakov is here as requested.”
Jack smiled. Perfect timing. “Send her in.”
Nikkole closed the door behind her and Jack pushed the button on his desk to lock it.
“I have something to talk to you about, but first, I need you.” When he stood, her eyes fell directly to his cock.
She smiled and licked her lips. “It would be my pleasure to help you in your time of need.” Her smile said yes, whatever you want.
He debated as she approached him. Did he want her on her knees, or bent over the desk? He glanced at Katlin, sitting in the dark, watching a video.
“Desk.”
Nikkole stopped a few feet from him. “How about both?”
Oh, Christ. “Even better.”
She dropped to her knees and all he saw was the top of her blond hair. Jack closed his eyes as she took him into her mouth. He ran his fingers through her silken strands, holding her head as she took him deep. He wanted to come inside her sweet tight channel, not her mouth.
When he pulled out, she knew exactly what to do. She hiked up her skirt and leaned over the desk while he pulled on a condom. With her face down, blond hair splayed over his desk hiding her face, he almost came the minute he entered her.
With her hand trapped under her body, Nikkole worked her clit until she convulsed around his cock, milking every last drop out of him.
He left her to right herself as he disposed of the condom in his private bathroom. He returned to his desk and pulled out a legal document.
“I told you that I had something more special for you than joining the Black Swan team.” He tapped the papers. “As you know, my parents passed away. I am the only Ashworth heir…right now. Nikkole, I would like you to have my baby.”
The woman exploded from the chair, sprinted around his desk, and threw herself into his lap. She had her arms around his neck kissing his face.
“Oh, Jack. Of course I’ll marry you. We’ll have as many kids as you want. I’ll sign any kind of a prenuptial agreement you want.”
Standing, he set Nikkole several feet away from him. “You misunderstand. I want you to have my baby. That’s all.” He tapped the paperwork. “This is a standard surrogate contract. All your medical bills dealing with the baby will be covered. I’ll provide you with a house or condo, your choice, and cover all your living expenses until the baby is born. You may continue working as long as it doesn’t endanger the baby, or quit as soon as you sign the contract. You need to understand this clearly—you can never tell anyone, ever, that the baby is mine. You’ll be paid one hundred thousand dollars, which is twice the standard rate. Do you have any questions?”
“I wouldn’t take your money. I’d want my baby. We would share him, or her, but I wouldn’t let you just take our child.” Nikkole sounded firm on this point but she didn’t understand.
“The baby wouldn’t be any part yours. I have fertilized embryos that would be implanted into you via in vitro fertilization.” He tapped the papers again. “All I’m asking of you is to carry my child through to birth. I want to rent your womb for forty weeks. You’ll be well-compensated. I’ll take my child at birth and you’ll never have to be bothered with it again.”
Nikkole’s gaze was unreadable.
“Why don’t you take this contract and review it? There are certain areas I’m willing to negotiate. The fact that the baby is mine, and only mine, at birth, isn’t one of them.” He picked up the contract and slid it into a brown envelope then handed it to her. “I’ll give you twenty-four hours.” He reconsidered. “No, make it forty-eight. When you’re ready, I can have my attorney come here and finalize all the documents.”
She snatched the packet from his hand. “I’ll think about it and let you know.”
Jack pushed the unlock button as she approached the door.
That went well, he thought as he sat down and pulled up the camera on Katlin. She would insist on being the mother to their baby, Jack was sure of it.