Rosebud sat across the table, staring at Dan. She could tell he knew she was staring, because he kept grinning as he handed over sheet after sheet of official company biography. “And Jim Evans—he’s my chief engineer. They’ll all be coming up together in two weeks—the day after the hearing, actually. If Jim gets done with his current project, he might make it in earlier, but I can’t guarantee that.”
A small part of her was immensely relieved that he really was flying up his own team. She had been worried silly that Dan had just been whispering sweet nothings in her ear because he wanted to get her into a compromising position. But he was nothing if not serious about it—and he had the itineraries to prove it. “They aren’t going to be staying with you, are they?”
“I don’t think Cecil is open to that option,” he replied, answering the correct question. But then his face got dark—the same look he’d gotten when he’d asked her about Thrasher. He flipped a piece of paper over and began scribbling.
He doesn’t like you. Dan’s handwriting was borderline atrocious, but she could still make it out.
Big shock there. Aunt Emily’s not a big fan of you, either, she wrote back.
Dan sighed, like he’d been hoping for a better outcome. I kind of hate this sneaking around thing, he wrote back.
Me, too. But I don’t know how to get around it.
He looked at her, and she saw something in his eyes that wasn’t like and wasn’t even lust. She’d never seen that look before—on anyone—and the intensity of it gave her goose bumps. “What?”
I’m working on it, he wrote. Be careful.
I will, she promised.
Careful was harder than it sounded. For one thing, Rosebud and Aunt Emily weren’t exactly on speaking terms, which made dinner every night awkward. All that awkwardness spilled over to the office. Judy could tell something was wrong, and began acting like it was her job on the line.
For another thing, every day Rosebud saw Dan made it that much harder to keep her hands off him. They both knew that there could be no touching and certainly no kissing anywhere they might get caught. No temptation allowed, period.
But Dan had the nerve to let his stubble get a little closer to a full beard, until just the sight of his face made her ache in good ways. She had wild fantasies about stripping for him at the office and doing all sorts of crazy things on the conference table—even on the wobbly chair. All the unresolved tension nearly gave her a tummy ache.
Careful also required that they take long and winding routes to the cabin both weekends—so long that, by the time they got there, it took everything she had not to rip his shirt off.
But once they were at the cabin, careful was the last thing on their minds. She had been afraid that there was no way the sex could top the excitement of that first weekend, but Dan took great pleasure in proving her wrong. The first time he went down on her, scraping his near-beard over her breasts, down her belly and between her thighs, she screamed so loudly that she lost her voice.
The first time he took her from behind and reached down between her legs from the front until he found her throbbing little spot, she came so hard that she accidentally knocked him off the mattress and onto the floor. But instead of being mad at her, he just rolled her onto her back and promised she wouldn’t get away the next time.
The first time he gathered her into his arms after another explosive orgasm and said, “I think I’m falling for you, Rosebud,” he brought her to tears—tears he kissed away.
“I think I’m falling for you, too.” Which was, of course, a gross understatement of the situation. Rosebud didn’t think—she knew she was falling in love with Dan. She was already in love with him.
“Just Dan and Rosebud,” he said, sounding happy and solemn at the same time as the crickets chirped away outside. The world—their world—was calm and peaceful. “That’s what I want. Just Dan and Rosebud.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “That’s what I want, too.”
But they both knew it wasn’t that simple.
“Dan coming in today?” Judy asked as the coffee perked.
Rosebud worked at keeping her face still, although she knew it was pointless. Dan—and her relationship with him—was sort of an open secret by now. No one could prove anything, but lots of people had noticed how much time the two of them had spent in the conference room in the past two and a half weeks. “I’m not sure,” she said, trying to be convincing. “I don’t know if I’ll have time for him. The court date is tomorrow, after all.” Judy was not convinced, to say the least. Rosebud sighed. “Let me know if he shows up, okay?”
“Of course,” Judy replied with a wink.
Great, Rosebud thought. So much for being careful.
Tomorrow was the big day, although it was just another battle in the war. She was doing the final check on all her ducks. Each row had to be perfect. Dan had told her that if she got the preliminary injunction, the odds were decent that he could get control of the project by the time the order expired. Rosebud was itching to tell someone about their plan, but unfortunately, the plan included telling no one. Neither she nor Dan could afford to have their positions compromised. Things had to go off smoothly or they wouldn’t go off at all.
She dove into her briefs, only vaguely aware that it was well past Dan’s normal arrival time. He’d said he might have things to do—after all, his team was coming in this weekend—so she refused to spend much time thinking about it.
It wasn’t until Judy knocked on her door that she realized it was half past ten. “Is he here?” she asked as she dug for her lipstick.
“No.” The sheer terror in Judy’s voice snapped Rosebud’s head up. Judy was as pale as was physically possible. If Rosebud wasn’t mistaken, the woman was on the verge of passing out.
“Who is it?” Her voice rang tinny in her own ears. Something was wrong.
“It’s Cecil Armstrong.”
Rosebud’s blood ran middle-of-January cold. After all this time, that man had the nerve to show up? What the hell was he doing here? Where was Dan? Snap out of it, she ordered herself. Now was not the time to panic. “What does he want?”
“He wants to talk to you. And he’s got another man with him. Not Dan.”
“Did you get a name?”
“I think he said Shane Thrasher, but…” Judy waved her hands, which only seemed to spread a sense of panic around the room like an aerosol can. “He’s got a gun. I can tell—I’ve seen those cop shows. Under his jacket.”
“Oh, hell.” Shane Thrasher. “Okay. Don’t panic.” Like that was even an option right now. Rosebud wasn’t even sure her heart was still pumping. “Can you get them some coffee?”
Judy looked like she wanted to cry.
“Don’t worry about it,” Rosebud said before the waterworks started. “Just get Joe. I don’t care if you have to drag his butt out of bed—I want him to get that gun out of this building, okay?”
“Okay,” Judy said and all but sprinted to her phone.
Rosebud wasn’t much better. She grabbed her phone so fast she dropped it. “Come on,” she said as Dan’s number rang in her ear. “Pick up.”
He didn’t. The call went straight to voice mail. The panic in her belly ratcheted up a notch. Where the hell was he?
“Dan? It’s Rosebud. Your uncle and Shane Thrasher are sitting in my conference room, and I don’t know where you are. If you could…” Could what? Get the cavalry and ride to the rescue? Bust in here with both barrels blazing? “If you could just let me know if you know what’s going on, I’d really appreciate it. I—” Her mouth snapped shut, biting the love you in half. No weakness. No confession. “Uh, I’ll talk to you later, right? Bye.”
She forced herself to go through her normal pre-meeting routine. Braided hair—check. Lipstick—check. Files in order—check. But there was no convincing herself. Nothing about this unscheduled meeting was normal, and that unavoidable fact had her stomach churning so fast she was nauseous.
After all this time, Cecil Armstrong had come to see her. There was always a chance he’d come in peace, she thought as she buttoned up her suit jacket. Or maybe he was here to give up. Surrender would be nice.
Her pep talk failed to make her peppy.
“Rosie?” Joe White Thunder popped his head in the door. She jumped so hard that she almost knocked her chair over. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, thank God.” Joe was here. The whole world hadn’t gone completely mad. “Cecil Armstrong is in the conference room with his head of security, a man named Shane Thrasher. Judy said she saw Thrasher’s gun. I need you to make sure he gets it the hell out of here.”
Joe stared at her for a long second in what could only be shock before he squared his shoulders. “I’ll take care of him,” he said, looking twenty years younger in an instant and sounding every inch the Lakota warrior.
Rosebud’s heart was pounding so hard she was sure her whole body was visibly shaking. She did not want to go in that room before she knew where Dan was, but the longer she put it off, the more nervous she would become. She had to get this over with quick.
She stood with her hand on the doorknob, trying to get her body to respond to her orders. Joe put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a strong squeeze. “You can do this, Rosie,” he whispered.
“Right.” She still wasn’t sure what this was, but she could do it. Taking a last breath of Cecil-free air, she opened the door to the conference room. Into the abyss, she thought.
Cecil Armstrong stood over the wobbly chair with a man who had to be Shane Thrasher on his hands and knees, looking at the undercarriage of the wounded seat. A small sense of victory calmed her nerves. She still had the upper hand.
Armstrong looked much like he did in the photos she’d found of him, but in person he seemed more shriveled, more…yellow. Sallow, she thought, remembering the name for it, like he never saw the sun. In her mind’s eye, she had always thought of him as this huge mountain of an obstacle she had to conquer, but in person he was a good eight inches shorter than Dan. Just an old, shriveled-up man, she thought. The realization gave her strength. He had no power over her, none at all. She was not afraid, and she was not going down without a fight. It didn’t matter that Dan wasn’t here. She was confident that he had a good reason for not answering the phone. He probably didn’t even know Cecil was here. She and Dan had a plan, and she was going to stick with that plan, come hell or high water.
“Mr. Armstrong, what a surprise.” At least her voice was listening to her orders. It came out strong and confident. She turned to Thrasher, who was now standing. “And Mr…. Thrasher, is it?”
Thrasher’s eyes slid over her with cold familiarity. He smirked without saying anything, and Rosebud saw a muscle above his eye twitch. Forget middle-of-January cold. Her blood was running Arctic-circle icy.
“Miss Donnelly, at last we meet.” Armstrong’s smile was wide—and dangerous, like a shark circling. He looked at Joe with utter contempt. “I assure you, Miss Donnelly, this is strictly a business call. I only have business with you.”
He could bring his muscle, but she couldn’t have Joe in the room? To hell with that. But Rosebud refused to get even one feather ruffled by this man. “Mr. Thrasher, we have a strict policy on firearms in the building. Mr. White Thunder will be happy to escort you to your vehicle, where you can lock your firearm in your trunk.”
Thrasher did that mercenary smirk again, but he held up his hands in a motion of surrender. “Sure thing.” He turned to Armstrong. “You don’t need me here for this part, do you?”
Armstrong gave the wobbly chair a little shake. The chair wailed in protest, which made Armstrong smile. Rosebud swore she saw a few extra rows of teeth in there. “I think I can manage this just fine.”
Manage what? Rosebud would give her left foot to know what the hell this little visit was about. Still, she held her position until Joe and Thrasher were out of the room. “How can I help you today, Mr. Armstrong?”
Still standing, Armstrong opened his briefcase and took out a large manila envelope. “Miss Donnelly, I’m sure you can appreciate that your little legal maneuvers have cost my company a rather large sum of money.”
She immediately felt a little better. This territory was more familiar. “Mr. Armstrong, I’m sure you can appreciate that your little dam will cost my entire tribe a place to live.”
“That’s unfortunate,” he said in the same tone of voice one might use to describe three-day-old roadkill. On the one hand, he was creeping her out. On the other hand, she was glad to see her impression of the man had not been wrong. He was a blight upon the land.
He tapped the envelope on the table. “All the same, I’d like to formally ask you, for the last time, to drop all your lawsuits against my company.”
Rosebud’s attention zeroed in on that envelope. If her blood got any colder, it would freeze solid. Where the hell was Dan? “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mr. Armstrong.”
Armstrong tilted his head to one side and appraised her. She was not afraid, she repeated to herself.
“Dan mentioned you were a real looker, but I don’t think that does you justice.”
The clap of fear she felt might as well have been thunder. But she could handle this. She had to. “I’m flattered.”
Armstrong gave her another dangerous smile. “I have something I want you to see.” He slid the envelope over the table.
Instinctively, she knew she didn’t want to know what was in there, because whatever it was, it was the end of the world as she knew it. She refused. She wouldn’t take it.
Some circuit in her brain must have tripped in the thunder-clap, because unexpectedly, she saw her hands reach down and pick up the envelope. No! her brain screamed. Don’t open it!
But her body wasn’t listening. Mentally frozen in a state of horror, she saw her hands undo the clasp on the envelope and slide out a short stack of photos.
Of her.
Naked.
With Dan.
A searing pain cut across her forehead, for a second, and all she could think was that she was back in the bar with someone ready to scalp her. Her hand moved up to her forehead and then down to her eyes, but she saw no blood.
“I should think you’d be very flattered,” Armstrong was saying. “Some of those are quite good shots. You photograph well. Have you considered a career in modeling?”
The pain got sharper, but her hands kept flipping the pages over and over. Her, stripping off Dan’s pants in front of the fire. Her, wiggling out of her jeans. Her, straddling Dan.
Dan, pulling her legs wide apart. Dan, sucking on her nipple. Dan, clearly sliding into her.
“Oh, that’s my favorite.” Armstrong was still talking, but his voice seemed farther away. “Enough to make me wish I was a younger man. Would have loved to have had a run at you in my prime.”
She wanted to throw up. She wanted to scream, to fight back, to show this man what a true Lakota woman could do. But she was frozen solid, her body operating mechanically without her express permission.
All she could do was count. Thirteen in all. Thirteen photos of her having sex with Dan.
“There’s a jump drive in there, as well.” Armstrong’s voice seemed to float to her from somewhere in another state. “With the video version on it.”
Operating on automatic, her hands tipped the envelope up, and out spilled a small black stick drive. Her, naked, having sex with Dan—screaming. Crying. Being reduced to a babbling idiot, because that’s what she’d been—the world’s biggest idiot to ever trust a white man. To trust an Armstrong.
And Cecil Armstrong had the pictures to prove just how much of an idiot she’d been. She’d believed Dan when he said he would protect her, when he told her they were safely hidden at the cabin. Lies. All lies. He wasn’t even answering her calls now. For all she knew, he was already back in Texas. Maybe he’d already called that Tiffany. Maybe Rosebud had never meant anything to him beyond a means to an end—the end of everything.
“What do you want?” Somehow, she was able to talk.
His voice still seemed far away, but that shark smile was close enough to bite her. “What I want is very simple, Miss Donnelly. I want all past, current and future legal proceedings against Armstrong Holdings dropped. And I’ll tell you what else—I’ll tell you what I don’t want. I don’t want to see you in court tomorrow. In fact,” he went on, like this whole conversation was the most natural thing in the world, “if you show up, a website named RosebudDonnellyHasSex.com will go live from a remote location. Someone already had the domain name RosebudDoesDan.com,” he said with a chuckle.
Scalped alive, that’s what this felt like, but instead of taking her hair, he was taking her soul. She’d let herself get conned into falling in love and conned right out of her home, her life.
Her hands were flipping through the photos again, and her eyes couldn’t look away. Dan’s face was hard to make out because his head was buried in her breasts in most of the shots, but Armstrong was right. She photographed well. Everybody would see. Everybody would know about her betrayal.
“You’ve got until tomorrow to think about it. And you can keep those for your scrapbook. I have others.” She heard the briefcase shut. “Miss Donnelly, it’s been a pleasure.” She felt a hand stroke her arm. “A real pleasure.”
From the other side of the ocean, the door shut. And Rosebud lost the world.