Shayla Black - Their Virgin Secretary

He cuddled her close, loving the feel of her nipples against his chest. He wanted nothing more than to slide inside her again. Leaving the damn bed was the last thing he wanted to do, but work called. If they were going to renovate this big old house and make it a family home again, that was going to take money—lots of it.

On Belle’s other side, Eric stirred and met Tate’s questioning stare. “You going to set up the camera? We’ve only got about twenty minutes before the contractors return. I don’t want to miss a chance to catch whoever is behind this shit.”

The contractors would be here soon, and they only had three hours before their appointment with the medium. He had a plan to figure out who was trying to scare the hell out of Belle and he was eager to get started.

Then, they could focus on finishing the house, passing the Louisiana bar, and taking a long honeymoon, maybe a staycation in their new master bedroom and bath—just him, Belle, and Eric. He’d make the time to explore his new city—and his new wife. They’d spend lazy mornings in bed, learning every inch of Belle’s gorgeous body. In the afternoons, they could hold hands and walk around, taking in all the famous New Orleans charm. Now that he was here with her and settled, it seemed right to make a fresh start at the beginning of their new life.

First, they had to take care of business.

“Yes. I hope we can catch the fucker today.”

“Me, too,” Belle murmured. “Let’s end this because I want to feel safe in here again. I like this room best.”

They’d all taken to sleeping in one of the guest quarters because Belle had bad dreams in the master bedroom. Hopefully the house “cleansing” would help cure her of that so she could feel comfortable enough to move back in here. It was the biggest of the rooms, the only one with a bed they all fit comfortably on. Though they were going to have to expand the closet.

Shit. He didn’t like the thought of more work, but Belle really liked clothes and she would take up most of the space. His princess deserved a grand dressing room.

He kissed her lightly and rolled out of bed, not bothering with his own clothes. He didn’t need them in this room. Once the contractors were gone, he intended to spend a good portion of his time naked—and keep Belle bare as well.

He’d brought up the nanny cam when they’d chased Belle up the stairs. The little teddy bear looked utterly harmless. A tiny camera dotted the bow tie around its neck that would catch the culprit on film. He placed it on the bookshelf next to a picture of Marie Wright and another woman. He glanced at it briefly, but then turned to study the layout of the room so he could position the bear for maximum visual coverage. He needed to capture an image of the sucker’s face.

“Do you have to point that thing at the bed?” Belle asked, resting her head on Eric’s chest.

He couldn’t help but grin. “It’s the best place. Anyone who walks in the room will have to walk by the camera. But beyond the practical, I think we should record our lovemaking. Baby, we could make so much money off a sex tape. You’re so hot. I could call it Nerd Gets His Girl and it would be a best seller. Think of the download potential. We wouldn’t have to work at all. We could just sit back and let the cash roll in.”

“No!” She threw a pillow his way. Tate ducked and the pillow sailed by him, knocking over the nanny cam and the photo beside it. “I’m not making a sex tape.”

He would have to work on her inhibitions because something about watching Belle on film got his motor running. But then, everything she did made him hot. She was it for him.

He reached down and picked up the pillow, tossing it back to his girl. He straightened the nanny cam and made sure it was switched on before picking up the frame. He was damn glad it hadn’t cracked. Belle loved these old pictures of her grandmother. She hadn’t spent time with the woman so Tate rather thought these pictures were Belle’s way of making a connection. He glanced down at the picture in his hands.

Marie Wright was smiling at the camera, her arm around a younger woman. They were both in cocktail dresses and made up like they planned to hit the town. The blonde next to her seemed to be in her mid-twenties. Something about her looked very familiar.

Shocked, Tate stared at the photo, searching his memory. It was right there, on the tip of his tongue. A name. He knew that woman’s name. Why would he know anyone Belle’s grandmother had known?

“What is it? Did I break it?” Belle asked.

“No, it’s just the woman with your grandmother looks familiar.” Where had he seen her before? He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew unequivocally that he’d met the woman.

Eric climbed out of bed, reaching for his pants. “I looked at another picture with her in the shot earlier, the one I set by the copy machine. It was taken in the late seventies, I’d guess. You weren’t even born then. How would you know some psychic woman from New Orleans?”

There was something about the face. He’d seen those eyes somewhere. They were an odd color, almost turquoise. She was pretty, but there was something hard about her that he couldn’t define. She would be in her late fifties today.

The name finally hit him. He’d been watching her picture on the television for weeks. He’d seen her as an older woman, the victim of a vicious murder and a whole lot of gossip.

“Holy shit. This is the madam. This is Karen Ehlers.” So much fell into place. All the pictures Belle had found of her grandmother and the groups of beautiful women. He finally understood how her grandmother had really afforded this place. Marie had been a madam, then when she’d decided to retire, she’d sold the business to Ehlers. He opened his mouth, but Eric, who’d obviously just made the connection too, shook his head, his eyes wide with warning.

He and Eric had been best friends so long they sometimes didn’t have to talk to communicate. That look on Eric’s face was a stop sign. Do not pass go. Do not tell the secret.

Belle had never guessed her grandmother’s past.

Eric had a point. Maybe telling Belle that her grandmother had been a prostitute wasn’t the right move at this juncture. Their fiancée was just settling in and getting comfortable with her past. She was under a lot of stress and anxiety about the house, and now they were getting married. More stress. She didn’t need to know anything except that her grandmother had loved her. He closed his mouth, and Eric gave him a supportive pat on the shoulder.

“That’s very interesting. I suppose they were neighbors. I bet she had a lot of stories to tell,” Eric said. “Why don’t you put on some pants, buddy?”

He didn’t want to. Eric was just going to have to get used to that because they had a girl now. It was perfectly normal for him to be naked around a girl. Sort of. He did sometimes struggle with social niceties.

Belle took the frame from his hands. Her mouth dropped open as she stared at the picture. “Oh, my god. That is her. That’s the woman they’re talking about on the news.”

Tate shrugged it off. “Looks like your grandmother had some interesting friends.”

And a whole bunch of employees who had specialized in giving dudes head. As family histories went, having a grandmother with a background in prostitution made her unique. He didn’t really see a problem with it, but it might not be something they shared with their kids.

He thought back to the picture in the living room of Marie and all those gorgeous women. Who were prostitutes. When he really thought about it, those women spread joy. They performed a service. They were almost like ambassadors for goodwill.

Belle’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god. They weren’t just neighbors or friends. This explains everything. My father wasn’t mad at my grandmother. He was embarrassed.”

“What do you mean, Belle?” Eric asked benignly.

Tate thought that was a good ploy. Make sure Belle had reached the same conclusion they had before they opened their big mouths.

She ignored them both, shaking her head as she looked at the picture. “Grandma said she sold the business to one of the girls. Obviously, that girl was Karen Ehlers. Oh, my gosh. My grandmother was a madam. She just never stated that in her letters to my dad. She always talked about irritating clients or the ones who were kind to her. My dad grew up in a brothel. Wait. Do you think she just, like, ran the place? Or…?”

Belle looked a little shocked. Tate didn’t want her upset.

“Absolutely,” he and Eric said at the same time.

Belle rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I wasn’t born yesterday. You don’t apply to be the manager of a brothel. You work your way up from the bottom, so to speak. She was a call girl. Clearly, a high-class call girl. Wow. I’m really shocked. Grandma was a bad, bad girl.”

Belle bowed her head and her shoulders shook. Tate lunged at her, certain she was crying. Damn it, he shouldn’t have said anything, just kept his big mouth shut. Belle hadn’t needed this truth about her grandmother. They couldn’t change it, and the knowledge didn’t negate the fact that Marie Wright had adored her family.

She snapped her head up. Tate saw her laughing, her gorgeous body moving with the force of her amusement. God, she looked beautiful. “My grandma was a lady of the night. Holy crap.”

Tate relaxed slightly. “Honey, it’s obvious she loved you.”

Belle met his gaze, her eyes soft. “I know she did. I’ve read her journals. She and my dad were estranged for years, but she loved him too. So very much. I think Grandma did the best she could. From what I can tell, she was an orphan herself. She got pregnant young, and my grandfather didn’t want a family. So he left her alone and pregnant and she wanted to make the best life she could for her kid. And she did. He never went hungry or homeless. In fact, he went to the best schools. I loved my dad, but he was wrong to shut her out. I guess he wanted to distance himself from his upbringing and live a reputable life.”

He pulled her close. “He wanted to do what was best for you, baby.”

She nodded. “I know. But I’ve figured out that what society demands and what my heart needs aren’t at all in synch. I finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up.”

“And what is that?” Eric asked, getting close.

“Happy. I think that might be all that matters. I’m going to marry you both because I love you and you make me happy. I hope our kids don’t react the way my dad did to my grandmother’s choices, but I really think if he’d lived, he would have forgiven her at some point.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “So that explains a whole lot. I need to take a shower before the contractors come back and kick me out of the bathroom. Can someone figure out where Kellan is? I hate the thought of him being out there all alone, especially if he’s drinking.”

Eric nodded. “I’ll find him. Tate can stay here and do the cleansing thing with you. I’ll have a nice long talk with our partner.”

Belle smiled and disappeared into the bathroom.

He held out his hand, shaking Eric’s. “I’m going to set the camera up properly with a motion detector and attach the feed to our phones. We’ll get a text when movement kicks it on. I’ll set it to start running after Belle’s ready.”

“Perfect. I’ll find Kell.”

“Do what you need to in order to get his ass home and some sense into his brain.”

If he couldn’t, Tate knew Belle would always miss Kellan. Hell, he would miss the bastard. There would be a piece of them missing if Kellan wasn’t with them. They would go on without him, but Tate thought they should at least try to talk some sense into him.

“Will do.” Eric sighed and shook his head. “But please put on some pants.”

Tate shrugged, promising nothing.

Eric stared at the bar where he’d tracked Kellan’s cell phone. He was pretty sure the cell would be attached to Kellan since he never went anywhere without it. That made him easy to find.

The bar was a seedy little place a few blocks off the Quarter. Blinking neon lights illuminated the soft evening. It wouldn’t have taken Kellan long to walk here, but he would bet every single step of the way had been hell on his friend. It had taken him away from the place—and the woman—he truly wanted. Eric had to believe that or his plan would be for nothing.

He texted Tate, letting him know he’d made it to the bar. Tate’s deep need to always know where the people he loved were was slightly stalkerish, but it had proven to be helpful on more than one occasion, so Eric vowed to stop ragging on him about it. Tate was serious about his family and their well-being, and he trusted that Eric could bring Kellan home.