Chapter 62

Ainsley Davenport had learned to treat her boss and occasional lover Nick Coyle with cautious respect. Such a posture had not come naturally to her. Nick was barely eighteen and such a relentlessly good person that he should have been easy to manipulate and take advantage of. And Ainsley had made it through life up to the point of meeting Nick by treating all of her bosses and most of the people around her with the kind of detached contempt that came from nearly always being the smartest person in the room.

When she allowed herself to think about how she’d wound up in her current situation vis-a-vis Nick, she came to the conclusion that Nick hadn’t outsmarted her. He was smart, certainly - but lacked Ainsley’s education or cunning. He might be cleverer than her. He and his friends seemed to value cleverness above nearly all other virtues while Ainsley saw it as a fairly minor tool in a social toolbox she’d spent her life filling. But, cleverness hadn’t won the day between them either.

How Nick had outmaneuvered her was in the abundance and placement of his allies - specifically Simon Anderson. Simon possessed a keen intellect and didn’t bother to hide it, but Ainsley had made the mistake of thinking that it was a cold, reptilian thing that was particularly poorly attuned to observing human behavior. She’d failed to notice that Simon’s frequently imperfect humanity was largely a construct based almost entirely on observation.

Since she’d made a hard pivot from using Nick to serve her own advancement to serving Nick’s interests as the best way to advance, Ainsley had watched Nick’s network grow and get stronger. Undoubtedly, his face-first approach to making alliances was gathering a nest of vipers under the woodpile, but it was also gaining him some stalwart defenders against attempts to take advantage of his good nature.

Foremost among these was Tanvi Agnihotri. The more time Ainsley spent with Tanvi, the more she respected the young Indian woman as a kindred spirit; tempered in different fires, but with the same kind of intelligence and ambition as herself. Ainsley thought that, had she been born under circumstances where service were an obvious path to power, she would have made a top-notch SSCS agent herself.

Similarly formidable was Pilar Rodriguez-Stone. Pilar might not be as smart as Ainsley, but she was smart enough to not bake her own self-destruction into her plans and possibly even more ambitious than Ainsley herself. That last bit was worrisome. It was possible to be too ambitious and let the gleam on the brass ring blind you to long-term danger. But her symbiosis with Nick could save her from a lot of mistakes.

Other allies might be easy to dismiss except that Nick had a habit of building them up to be formidable as well. Max, Lev, Arwen, Inez, Jazz, and now Guy and Sarah ... Ainsley had watched each of their social networks form around them like crystals in a liquid. This weekend was already accelerating that process, weaving them into the fabric of the Stone family.

Some small part of Ainsley still wondered if Nick wasn’t just playing a really long game that would end with him ruthlessly controlling the whole Stone family with an iron fist. But, it was never more than a small thread to be picked at in idle times. Strategically, she’d committed to a contrary notion - that Nick was fundamentally who he presented himself to be and that any ruthlessness he might acquire would come by misadventure and at the cost of his own happiness. Because Ainsley had genuinely thrown her lot in with Nick’s and because her own success depended in no small part on Nick being that good-natured, sweet, empathic person for as long as possible, she was on a constant lookout for signs that he might be slipping into the same amoral utilitarianism that Ainsley lived in so comfortably. If Nick didn’t remain a much better person than Ainsley herself, she was doomed.

As they left Shiloh and her husband in the little cafe, Nick turned to Zola. “Take the car. Get back to the hotel. Thank you for being available to help handle this.”

Zola gave him a quick hug. “Glad to help. Where are you headed?”

“Back to the Loft. I’m going to try to get a few more hours of sleep before I have to get up for the matinee. Ask Monroe and Dietrich if they’ll host lunch, please. If they won’t, rouse my seneschal and tell him it’s his job. That’ll teach him to ask for a title.” Nick turned to go.

Ainsley wondered if she should hug Nick more often. He seemed to like it and Zola made a habit of it, but she rejected the idea. Both she and Nick benefitted from the appearance of professional separation between them, even in front of people who knew they were lovers. She said, “I should get some sleep, too. I was up late meeting your cousins.”

“Join me?” Nick asked as they waited to cross the street.

“To ... sleep?” Ainsley asked.

Nick nodded. “The sun’s already up. If I take a pill, I’ll be groggy as fuck for Hamilton and I really do want to enjoy it. Sleeping next to someone I trust is the next best soporific for me.”

“Okay,” Ainsley found herself tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear like a nervous high school girl. She’d slept with Nick before, but never just slept with him and it seemed oddly important.

Nick caught, but misunderstood her change of mood. As they crossed Broadway, he said. “Don’t worry, counsellor. I haven’t started trusting you completely. I just mean that I trust you to be there when I wake up ... because I own your soul.”

Ainsley laughed and impulsively hooked her hand into Nick’s elbow. “Of all the parts of me you could own, why would you pick the least interesting one?”

Nick smirked. “Pretty sure I own the rest of you, too. That was the one I thought it polite to mention.”

Ainsley was a fiercely independent woman, but Nick’s words thrilled her all the same. “Talking like that, are you sure it’s sleep you have in mind?”

“Yes,” said Nick firmly. “I’m barely upright and I have a full day of dealing with the Stones ahead of me. If you can’t behave yourself, let me know now and I’ll take my chances with the pills.”

There was rebuke in Nick’s words, but he didn’t pull away. Ainsley said, “Sorry, I’ll be good.”

Nick sighed. “I know I don’t give you as much attention as an actual boyfriend would...”

“Actually, I spend more time with you than I did with any boyfriend...”

“Fine, I don’t fuck you as much as an actual boyfriend would, then,” Nick clarified.

Ainsley winced. When Nick was tired, he could be much more direct and abrupt on sensitive matters. She said, “I knew what I was getting into, Nick. The alternative for me isn’t getting a boyfriend. It’s focusing entirely on my work and trying to ignore that I’m functionally celibate.”

As they were waiting to cross Lafayette Street Nick said, “I really do enjoy our time together - not just the sex.”

Considering that Ainsley spent most of their time together in blatant acts of lawyerness, that statement represented a huge amount of progress in their relationship. Rather than point this out, Ainsley settled on a simple, “So do I.”

Nick disengaged his arm from hers to enter the front door of the Loft and pass through the security checkpoint. Upstairs, the living area was as quiet as Ainsley could ever remember seeing it. The apartments and rooms were probably packed with overnight guests, but no one seemed to be up for breakfast yet. Only a pair of maids moved among the furniture.

In Nick’s bedroom as he started to undress, Ainsley followed suit, specifically waiting until she had her jacket off, her hair down, and blouse half-unbuttoned before asking, “What did you mean by mentioning the possibility of prosecuting Malcolm’s crimes to Kaius and Shiloh?” She wanted him to understand the question came from his friend Ainsley, not just his lawyer.

Nick unbuckled his belt. “That ... was my tired mouth running places I didn’t mean for it to go. It’s just that people are so afraid of Malcolm and Threnody and ... well, me ... and what are we really going to do? What could Malcolm really do to his brother and Shiloh if he set his mind to it?”

Ainsley considered the enormous number of things that a man with money and allies could do to someone who had neither. She was overwhelmed by possibilities. As Nick moved to lay his shirt down, she took it from him and laid it on a chair. “You know how you want Art Black to end his life dead in a ditch?”

“A figurative ditch,” Nick reminded her.

Ainsley wasn’t so sure that Nick had been speaking figuratively at the time he made that pronouncement, but this was hardly the time to mention that. She turned away from Nick. “Unzip me please and ... imagine if you’d meant a literal ditch and, instead of eventually, you’d wanted it to happen within a year. Now, give yourself a hundred million dollar budget. Could you do it without breaking any laws?”

Nick unzipped Ainsley’s skirt for her. “Probably, but Art’s rich. A man standing on a high ledge has a much easier time falling to his death than a man already standing at ground level.”

It was a perspective Ainsley hadn’t considered. She wriggled out of her skirt and tried another tack. “Okay, maybe Art’s a bad example. Think about Hank Bispo.”

Nick sat and pulled off his pants. “Who?”

“Anne’s husband. With a relatively minor flexing of your resources, you hugely improved her life, but at the same time, you took away a man’s wife and children,” Ainsley stripped off her bra and wrapped herself in Nick’s recently worn shirt.

Nick frowned. “I can’t say I feel particularly bad about that ... and you’re welcome to borrow a clean shirt if you like.”

Ainsley made a point of holding the garment in question to her nose. “I’d prefer this if you don’t mind. And I’m not bringing up Hank to make you feel bad. Just ... think about what you could have done to him if you felt like he genuinely deserved to suffer.”

“He did genuinely deserve to suffer, just not...” Nick yawned. “Not unnecessarily. Still, I take your point, I think.”

“Most people have a handful of things that make their life worth living. Find out what they are. Pay someone to take them away. Repeat every time they find a new equilibrium. Eventually, they’ll get miserable enough to stop trying to keep themself alive.” Ainsley buttoned up her borrowed shirt, reached underneath, and extracted her panties.

Nick frowned at her as he lay back on the bed. “I’m not sure I’m ruthless enough to do that.”

Ainsley climbed into bed next to him, snuggling in as his arms went around her. “You’re not and you shouldn’t aspire to be. But, you have people who love you enough to do it for you if it needs to be done.”

Pilar Rodriguez-Stone woke to sunlight streaming in the penthouse’s wide bay window, her limbs intertwined with her cousin Sarah’s, blonde and black hair cascading around them, their curves neatly fitted together. Behind Sarah, her husband slept with one arm around her and anchored on Pilar’s hip. She lay like that for a long time, not entirely awake or asleep.

Since she and Nick had come back from Australia, threesomes were a nearly nightly occurrence for Pilar, but before last night, they’d all been her, Nick, and another woman. On a couple of occasions, it had been her, Nick, and more than one other woman. Pilar loved the person she was around Nick and most nights, she felt like a radiant sex goddess. But last night, after she and Guy had joined Nick and Sarah in this bed, it had been something entirely more primal. Having two men claim her at once, surrounding her in a cage of flesh and muscle had made her lose herself completely for a while. She’d lost track of time and the identities of the people around her and pretty much everything except the pleasure that was searing itself into every inch of her body. Today, she felt perfectly wrung out - like a big cat who’d been soaked to the skin in warm water, stretched out as far as her spine would go, and left in the sun to dry.

Sarah opened her eyes and smiled broadly. “I could get used to waking up like this.”

Pilar laughed joyously. “I heartily recommend it. How are you feeling?”

“Sore ... stretched ... wonderful.” Sarah extended her limbs, elongating her spine between Pilar and Guy and eliciting a warning grumble from her husband. “What time is it?”

“Just after ten,” said Pilar. “We really need to get ready.”

“The play’s not until two,” grumbled Guy.

Sarah rolled her eyes. Pilar laughed and kissed her before twisting to rise. “I know there are at least three showers in this penthouse, I’m going to stake out the one in the guest room next door.”

Guy rolled away from the two women and wrapped himself around a pillow. “Give me like another hour, please ... maybe two.”

“Lazy bastard,” Sarah muttered good-naturedly as she rolled to get up as well. “Unbelievable.”

“‘M’exhausted,” muttered Guy. “All your fault, both of you.”

Pilar stood, waited for Sarah to rise from the bed, and drew her in close with one arm before kissing her on the neck through her hair. “Are you ready for today?”

Sarah hugged her around the waist. “You mean the part where we all pretend Nick is mad at you?”

“That, but just in general too.” Pilar let herself relax against the taller woman. “That was a long night. How do you feel?”

Sarah smirked down at her, her eyes sparkling. “Right now, I feel like everybody in the world except for the four of us is doing the whole sex thing wrong.”

Pilar laughed and hugged her. Recent conversations with Emily had reminded her how big and frightening a transition it could be to leave monogamy behind, but Sarah certainly didn’t seem to be harboring any doubts on that front. “I have to get ready for my day of glorious exile.”

“How are you feeling about that?” Sarah asked. “I think I would pee myself if Nick was mad at me.”

“Still trying to get my head around how I would react if Nick and I were suddenly on the outs.” Pilar drew in one last lungfull of Sarah’s scent. “However afraid I might be, I don’t think I’d let anyone see it ... and I certainly wouldn’t take it lying down.”

In the shower, Pilar kicked the idea around. She’d never learned to be an actress, but this wasn’t exactly acting. She was still Pilar Rodriguez-Stone. Whatever happened in her life, she wouldn’t just passively accept it. She would work to fix it and, whether that worked or not, get the best deal for herself that she could.

By the time she stepped out of the shower, she had a roadmap planned out. It fit how she would actually act and gave her a chance to remind all gathered that she wasn’t just the beautiful woman who had ensnared Nick Coyle, but a powerful player in her own right. She got on the hotel phone and called the primary SSCS contact point for the party. When the agent answered, she said, “This is Pilar. I’m in the penthouse at the Millenium. I need someone to collect my things from my rooms downstairs and bring them to me. I also need the black Oscar de la Renta wrap dress from my closet at the Loft and someone to get me up to date on the situation with Shiloh and Kaius and to brief me on what we know about the situation in Shreveport in general.”

She was still in the early phases of her beauty routine, applying moisturizer to her whole body when a light tap came on the bedroom door. She called out, “Come in.”

Tanvi didn’t comment on the figure that Pilar cut, standing naked in the center of the floor-to-ceiling window and surveying the city, but the short pause before she started speaking was homage enough.

“I have agents collecting your things from downstairs and your dress from the Loft. I’ll be handling whatever briefing you need,” Tanvi moved to the room’s desk, sat, and crossed her legs.

Pilar came over to sit on the bed and face Nick’s amanuensis. “Aren’t you supposed to be coordinating this whole shindig?”

“I have very capable lieutenants, all trained in large-scale event management. This is both specialized and higher priority than keeping hotels from gouging us too much on short-notice reservations,” said Tanvi.

“Sounds like the party’s been too successful?” Pilar asked.

“We’ve adjusted our readiness numbers. Apart from some minor inconveniences, I don’t think anyone will notice that we didn’t plan for two thousand Stones to show up in the city all at once when only a few hundred RSVPed,” said Tanvi.

Pilar whistled in admiration. “I won’t keep you then. Start with Shiloh and Kaius. Nick left early this morning to deal with them.”

“They’ve both accepted Nick’s offer of employment without modification and promise to be ready to leave for Hamilton by one,” said Tanvi.

“I need them ready by noon,” said Pilar.

“I’ll let them know. Should I provide them with assistance in getting ready if they need it?” Tanvi asked.

Pilar considered the question. On one level, Shiloh and Kaius were meant to be trophies, paraded through the city to show that Nick wasn’t letting Malcolm take advantage of him, but they were going to be around for at least a year and it wasn’t in Nick’s nature to punish them for something they’d done under even soft duress. And even if she wasn’t sure about her future with Nick, she wouldn’t be looking to thwart his plans. “Whatever they need. Tell me what we know about George and Lara Laird.”

Tanvi did, starting with George’s marriage to Tanya Fontenot-Stone more than twenty years ago, their two sons, her death, and his subsequent remarriage to Lara Bourgeois then backtracking up her history growing up in a little Louisiana swamp town as best friends with Shiloh, the trouble they’d gotten into, and their overlapping relationships with Kaius. Both women were ambitious social climbers who’d started out poor and pretty. Pilar could see making allies of both of them, but they would require very different approaches. Lara had embraced an alliance with Malcolm while Shiloh seemed to have done what she could to blunt her proximity to that odious man.

Tanvi turned from the social to the professional. George Laird had taken over the family business when his father retired and seemed to have a particular gift for finding exactly the right skilled craftsmen for any job. He was well loved, particularly by the people who worked for him. By all indications, George treated his workers more than fairly and shielded them from Malcolm’s worst instincts even while being his largest subcontractor and crucial to his hold on the Shreveport building trades.

As Tanvi filled in details they’d learned by swarming Shreveport with agents last night, Pilar started to put her plan together. George Laird sounded like a good man who loved his wife, but could he be oblivious to her machinations? Likely the truth was more complicated than that. Either way, a man who was known to be good to his workers was vulnerable to the appearance of disloyalty to anyone.

Tanvi had been going through a list of people who’d given the field agents information last night and what they’d said. Nearly all of it was scuttlebutt that would require further investigation to verify, but it painted a picture of a man with a very brittle hold on his empire, maintaining it by fear and bluster. Malcolm seemed more interested in wielding power than in actually making money.

When she got to the end, Tanvi said, “That’s all I can tell you now. Nick has asked me to withhold some details from everyone but him while he decides how to deal with them.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to withhold them from me,” Pilar’s luggage from downstairs had arrived. She dug through her makeup case for a wide-toothed comb.

“I can check with him to see if that’s what he meant, but he’s set a very high threshold on what we should wake him for before it’s time to leave for the play.” Tanvi rose from her chair and gestured towards the comb. “Can I help with that?”

Pilar knew how busy Nick’s assistant was today. If Tanvi was offering such personal service in the middle of it all, she must have a good reason.

Pilar sat on the bed and offered the comb to Tanvi who sat behind her and started to comb out her still-damp hair. For a long minute, neither woman said anything. Tanvi broke the silence by asking, “You’ve formulated a strategy for today?”

“I have.” Pilar leaned back, accepting the intimacy of the moment even as she waited to see its purpose.

Tanvi continued to methodically separate out parts of Pilar’s hair and comb them smooth, sometimes gripping the strands near the scalp to prevent tugging. “If Nick were genuinely unhappy with you, I might not be available to help you with any of this.”

“No one doubts your loyalty to Nick, Tanvi,” Pilar promised her.

“I would think not.” Tanvi continued combing. “You’re helping Nick build a powerful network of loyalties and strengthen old ones.”

Pilar didn’t miss the implication that she’d inserted herself into all of Nick’s alliances and, as a result, set herself up with more power to hurt him than anyone else. She said, “Every link I help Nick forge binds me to him, too. Even pretending to be on the outs with him is pretty terrifying.”

Tanvi gathered Pilar’s hair in one hand, drew her head back a little, and kissed the crook of her neck. “You make a very compelling case for Nick’s allies to be just as loyal to you as they are to him.”

The kiss was a small shock to Pilar’s system, a bolt of lighting down her spine and up again, and the first time Pilar could remember Tanvi initiating any sort of contact between them even though they’d been together several times now, both with and without Nick. The message was clear: Nick was a nice guy, almost certainly too nice for his own good, but he had allies who could be much less nice if they felt like Nick was being taken advantage of.

Pilar nodded slowly, “I understand that you’re an extension of Nick’s will. Not wanting to lose what you and I have is one more reason I will always be loyal to him, no matter how our relationships change in the future.”

Tanvi resumed combing out Pilar’s hair. “Your new seat for Hamilton is in the second row next to your cousin Inez.”

Pilar could take the placement to mean that she was as little out of favor as it was possible to be, moving back only one row, or it could be meant as a reminder that there were other beautiful Latinas in the family who could take her place at Nick’s side at a moment’s notice. She wasn’t sure why Tanvi had chosen this moment to issue her warning. It might have been brewing for a while or it might be deliberately to help her get into character as a woman on thin ice with Nick. Whatever it was meant for, it had certainly accomplished the latter. She asked, “Who’s taking my original seat?”

“Nick will be front-row center with Verity on his right, Sarah Masterson-Stone on his left, Guy on her left. Right of Verity will be Shiloh and Kaius. His grandparents will move over one seat to make room for them,” said Tanvi.

Putting Kaius front and center was an unsubtle and vulgar display of power, perfect for dealing with a man like Malcolm on whom subtlety was wasted. To make the impression she wanted, Pilar would have to up her game today. She told Tanvi what she planned and what she would need. Tanvi listened and promised to have everything in order.

Then, with Pilar’s hair combed out and her plan in place, Tanvi rose from the bed. “I should be getting back to the operations center. Just because things aren’t on fire doesn’t mean they’re going smoothly.”

Pilar rose from the bed, “Tanvi?”

When Nick’s assistant turned to face her, Pilar stepped in close, wrapped her arm around Tanvi’s waist, and kissed her. The way their relationship had started might seem coincidental to more important concerns, but Pilar felt a strong and genuine affinity for Nick’s assistant. “You’re important to me, you know?”

Tanvi’s smile went from professional to something both shyer and more genuine, “Show me once this weekend is over, please.”

Pilar hugged her more tightly, then released her with a nod. As frightening as finding herself on the wrong side of things with Nick might be, getting on Tanvi’s bad side was terrifying and reminded her of the stakes that both she and Malcolm were playing for even if Malcolm didn’t really appreciate that fact yet.

Alone, Pilar armored herself in carefully-chosen clothing and makeup, loosely bound her hair with a pair of decorative chopsticks, and practiced the smile that promised much, but guaranteed nothing. As she did, the first text from Lara came in. Pilar ignored it, muted her phone, and headed out.

The car she’d asked Tanvi to reserve for her use was waiting to take her to the hotel where George and Lara were staying. Safa, the pretty Tunisian SSCS agent Pilar had last seen in Milan fell into step with her as she emerged from the hotel. As they sat in the back seat of the limo, Pilar said, “SSCS must be casting a wide net to staff this party.”

“We certainly seem to be. I requested any opportunity to work with Nick if I was available, but thought I’d missed my chance on this one. I just got off a plane from Jayanesia,” said Safa.

“How much do you know about what we’re doing this morning?” Pilar asked.

“Only that I’m to make myself available to you and provide you with any services and resources not explicitly reserved for the client,” said Safa.

“All right.” Pilar made a mental note to remember that Safa wasn’t in on the charade they were performing and would probably assume her exile was real. She decided to work with that. “We’re on a tight schedule. Familiarize yourself with George and Lara Laird. If they’re not waiting outside when we pull up, I’ll need you to go inside and get them moving. They’ve cost me enough already. I can’t afford to be sitting out in the car waiting for them.”

Safa had her tablet out and was soon reviewing a screen with headshots of George and Lara on it. Pilar sat in silence for a few blocks before asking, “Did you know they’re not actually Stones?”

“I ... don’t believe I ever heard of them before now. I’ve worked mostly in Europe. We don’t have a lot of connections to Shreveport,” said Safa.

Pilar nodded and looked out the window until they were pulling up in front of a Hilton close to the Holland Tunnel entrance. Safa climbed out of the car and went inside. Pilar checked her watch. It took just under five minutes for George and Lara to emerge with Safa trailing behind. Lara was dressed for the theater, but her makeup perfunctory. George was dressed for dinner in a blue suit with no tie. Both looked rushed and flustered, which had rather been Pilar’s goal in suddenly demanding they both be ready to get picked up more than an hour before Lara thought she needed to be anywhere.

She’d also made sure they didn’t know where the demand was coming from, having SSCS deliver it without attribution. They could have refused to comply, of course. They were still just guests, but they wouldn’t have gotten very far with Malcolm if they’d been inclined to balk at doing what rich men’s intermediaries told them.

When they climbed into the car and saw Pilar, Lara put on her best game face, “Cousin Pilar, I wasn’t expecting to get to see you until dinner at least.”

Pilar scowled at the pretense of small-talk and at being called “cousin” by this woman. Instead of answering, she asked, “Why are you staying so far out? If you were any farther away, you would be in New Jersey.”

George and Lara gave each other a look. Pilar knew why they’d stayed here: because they wouldn’t run into any other Stones when they didn’t expect to and every encounter might get reported back to Malcolm and seen as disloyal. But admitting something like that would definitely be both disloyal and more self-aware than Pilar gave either of them credit for.

“I’ve stayed there when I traveled to New York for work,” said George finally.

Safa had gotten in next to Pilar and the car was moving towards its next destination. That meant Pilar was on a clock, but she refused to be rushed, instead staring at the two of them while they tried not to look nervous. Finally, she said, “That must have been some time ago. You haven’t had much business outside of Louisiana in years.”

“Actually, I have a crew working in Texas right now,” George corrected her. “But, it has been some time since I’ve looked for work in New York. I think I was last here for a builder’s convention several years ago.”

Pilar considered them both, allowing herself to appear bored and annoyed. “So, this business you came to New York to discuss, it must be down in your neck of the woods ... which would be refreshing because every time my father and I have made overtures to work down there, we’ve gotten shut down cold.”

“Well...” George drew the word out in a what-can-you-do sort of way. “I don’t think we have any specific business down in our parts to discuss.”

Pilar rolled her eyes. “Texas, then? You need some help with that big Texas job you just brought up?”

George’s face darkened. “Now, listen...”

Lara laid a hand on her husband’s arm. “Pilar, what’s this about?”

Pilar scowled at her. “This is about you two coming up with something between you that makes it worth my bringing you up here. You said you had business to discuss, Lara. What was it?”