Page 1 of Nothing to Deny

ONE

“THIS IS CRAZY,” Freya Dere said.

Without any hesitation, her cousin, Holly, tugged her along the sidewalk and through the glass doors of a building right in the heart of the city.

How could it be so central? So unashamed?

No, Freya, not the right mindset. She didn’t judge, as such, it was just a surprise the agency wasn’t in some seedy corner of town. Hidden, not so… public. Was Squires in the directory? Surely not.

Calm. Different businesses rented out floor space. No one would know what went on in every corner, would they? God, what was she doing? Their intention was to do something illegal. Illegal!

What the hell was wrong with her? Most people worried about falling victim to peer pressure when they were teens. She was most definitely not a teen, so why, at her age, was she embarking on a criminal career for the first time? Family, that’s why. Oh, family.

Looked like she was about to get an answer to her question. Holly stopped to check the building directory. Her? No, she couldn’t look. Plausible deniability. Seeing was believing… and culpability. This was taking too long. They were loitering where people could see them. Hadn’t her cousin claimed to know where she was going? Why the stop?

“You know what would be crazy?” Holly asked. “Us, putting up with Kelly’s nonsense without backup.”

She and her cousins were raised close. Relatively close. Close… ish. Okay, maybe not so close. Still, they kept in touch,not a lot of families even did that. Holly and Kelly Piven were the daughters of Gerry and Brenda Piven. The two sisters had a brother as well, Alan, and the three siblings grew up in a picture-perfect life with their parents.

To be fair, hers hadn’t been far from perfect either. Except, obviously, the glaring blight on her upbringing: the loss of her parents. Okay, admittedly, most wouldn’t call that perfect. Their deaths left her under the care of her paternal grandfather, Truman Dere, a man richer than God and more ruthless than Lucifer. So other people said. That hadn’t been her experience, but as his only living blood relative, her position was unique.

Her grandfather should be the last man on her mind while waiting for an elevator to a place he’d despise her visiting.

The metal doors whooshed open and whoa, boy… this was happening, it was actually happening… New year, new adventure. Was that the idea?

Holly grabbed her hand to pull her into the carriage and stabbed a button, wearing a gleeful grin.

“An escort agency,” she muttered, watching the numbers light as they ascended. “This is a bad idea.”

Holly huffed. “Seriously, Frey, I mean, seriously? You’ve heard Kelly, right? Heard how she’s so loved up, so adored, so perfect? Aren’t you sick of it?”

“Hearing how amazing Nickson is twenty-four, seven? Yes, I am sick of that. Very sick of it. But I am also tired of listening to how amazing your fictitious boyfriend is.”

Holly had reason to be upset about the state of her love life. When the woman started talking about new boyfriend, “Paul,” Freya assumed things were looking up. That false picture lasted right up until she learned “Paul” was nothing but a figment of Holly’s imagination. What a tangled web…

“This is going to make it all okay,” Holly said, looping an arm through hers and lifting her chin. “Loretta recommended this place. Loretta knows everything.”

Loretta being Holly’s boss. The two had been friends for years. To say that Holly idolized the older woman would be an understatement. For the most part, the relationship was healthy… not that she knew a lot about it. What she did know? Loretta was more daring than anyone in their family. And right then, Loretta could be their undoing.

They arrived on the agency’s floor. Still reluctant, her heavy feet would only move with Holly’s effort dragging her out. The beautiful lobby looked more like an expensive apartment than an office. Good, okay, the environment put her at ease.

Wait, was that good?

No orgies or mandatory nudity, those were good. Couches, warm colors, perfect lighting, it seduced her like a sailor to a siren, probably exactly the decorator’s aim.

Freya dug her heels in and stopped, backing them up to the wall. “Please, Hol, you know I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” Holly said, letting go of her arm to cup both hands around her face. “You are allowed to have fun, Frey. You’re even allowed to have sex.”

According to who? Not her grandfather.

“Truman will build me a dungeon,” she said, certain in the widening of her eyes. “An actual dungeon, if he finds out about this.”

“You thought he’d cut you off when you went out on your own,” Holly said. “You said he wouldn’t like you getting an apartment or building the foundation.”

Like it or not, her grandfather hadn’t stood in the way of her creating Children’s Connection, ChilConn, her now-thriving charity. Truman Dere excelled at supporting her… usually.

“This isn’t exactly the same thing.”

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