The Wrong Type of Seduction

36 Matt’s Deepest Suspicion

ORIGINAL CONTENT OF D.C. BLU. DO NOT COPY AND/OR REDISTRIBUTE WITHOUT THE AUTHOR’S PERMISSION. PLAGIARISM IS CRUEL. PLEASE BE RESPECTFUL.

36: Matt’s Deepest Suspicion


“Matt! How could you not tell me about the gala?” The slavic accent accused. “I would have been there!”

“Sorry, Mr. Voronin,” Matt said into his phone walking back into the music auditorium after his meeting with Pete. “I wasn’t thinking you’d want to come to something so informal.”

“Anything with you playing in it will be spectacular! Don’t spare me details my son! You tell me about each and every performance. I must make them all! I must!” If Voronin wasn’t an old guy, Matt would call him a fanboy.

“If you can get a flight in, I’ll be performing tomorrow,” Matt said while nodding his head at the ticket taker who let him keep walking.

“Dammit. My darling wife has me going to some fucking…I don’t even care what it is. I think it has something to do with my son…or daughter…um…”

Matt chuckled. “I got a message from your daughter last week inviting me to a ball.”

“That’s it! A damn ball. I don’t ballroom dance. That’s for old folk.”

“Right.”

“I’m not old.”

“I didn’t say you were, sir.”

“Of course not, because you are my good child. With good manners. Despite me and Bailey not seeing eye to eye on a few things…” Everything. “He raised you well. I should pay him to teach my other ungrateful children those manners.”

“You do realize Bailey would be nicer to you if you stopped claiming to be my father and stop trying to steal me from him,” Matt said as he walked backstage past the building security who waved him through without checking his ID.

“I can appreciate you better than that meathead.”

“And he’s still pissed that you sent me Vodka for my birthday.”

Voronin said something in Russian before he shouted,“You’re nineteen! What’s his problem?”

“Legal age here is twenty-one, remember?”

“Fucking stupid rule. And I only sent the Vodka because you turned down the car.”

“A car wouldn’t do me much good here in the city. It’d just stay parked in the garage.”

“Ah! Then next birthday I’ll get you a helicopter.”

“Mr. Voronin, if I need a helicopter I could ask Mr. Walthour.”

“Fuck him. Call me. Call me! I’d be a much better patron. In fact, I’m sending money.”

“Write it out to the charity.”

“Fine… But I want a video of your performance. Or audio. Both.”

Matt chuckled. “Alright.”

“Now tell me about Alyssa Swan. Why did you not tell me you were hot for the biggest name in entertainment?”

“Because I’m not!”

“Ooooo, sore spot?”

“Very. It’s all rumor. She’s after me for some damn reason and I’m working to get rid of her before she tries to ruin my rep.”

There was a pause before Voronin asked, “Need help?”

Oh, hell no! He’d rather Tyler do it. “Um…probably not a good idea if you get involved. Mr. Walthour’s already not pleased about our relationship.”

“He’s such a limp dick. You let me know if you need help and I’ll handle it. Easy peasy.” There was some Russian exchange on the other end of the line before Voronin said, “My wife is calling me… Send me a video! And don’t forget you promised to play for me.”

“I’d never forget.”

“That’s my child!” He announced before he hung up. Matt only chuckled weaving through the backstage traffic to find Val.

When he found her, she was near the stage with a group of people. Matt watched quietly as she organized behind the scenes while acts and talents performed onstage. The place was packed with people. She was amazing, managing everyone easily as if they were water and she the pipes containing them, directing the flow.

By the end of the night, he saw the fatigue in her, so he called her a cab and took her back to his place. Of course she didn’t object, too tired to even let him seduce her.

He washed her and put her into his bed, tucking her in next to him. Watching her sleep, he held her wondering what he could do to help her. What could he do to keep that son of a demon ex-husband away from her?

His fingers smoothed over her forehead, brushing her wavy mahogany hair from her face. She was his. She bared her bruised soul to him, probably making this titan of a woman feel more vulnerable than she ever had. But he’d protect her and her secrets… And seduce her. And make her accept his family. Or they would crash and burn together, whichever came first.

He fell asleep with her cuddled close, only to wake hearing her voice.

“No, no. Don’t worry. It’s fine. Domenic hasn’t shown up yet.” She must have just woken up because her voice sounded groggy. “No. No, don’t send him… Okay, I’ll make arrangements. And you be careful. Don’t forget to tell Christophe… Thank you.”

When she hung up, he lay listening for her on the other side of his bedroom door. What was going on? And why the hell did her voice sound so strange when she said the name Christophe?

He closed his eyes when she came back into the room. Slowly, she got back into bed and snuggled up to him. He held back his smile, enjoying that she wanted to be back in his arms, instead of taking off, running from him.

Matt was drifting back to sleep when a thought struck him. Five years ago, his father, may his soul burn for eternity, was killed by a sniper right in front of his brother’s eyes. No one had a clue who did it or why. Walthour hadn’t found any clues or culprits. All they had were suspects, all of which hated his father. But none took ownership of the man’s death. Probably because they didn’t want to get on Walthour’s bad side. His father had been the head of Walthour’s security firm. And when the fucker died, that company nearly tanked, making Walthour lose millions in money and assets. Though the company was back up and running now, it wasn’t at one hundred percent yet, and there still was no trace of the killer.

Just like the Ricci Curse.

Though she never said she was trained to handle a gun, that didn’t mean she hadn’t been. It just meant she omitted it. And he wasn’t foolish enough to believe she had told him everything. Val might have revealed more to him that she ever did to anyone, but a woman as strong as her didn’t just spill all her secrets. So the question remained, had she been the one to kill his father? Or did she know who did since she commanded other assassins? And why did that make him want to turn her over and bury his cock in that sweet ass?

Hell, everything about her made him want to fuck her forever. And he would…it just took a little more cunning.

ORIGINAL CONTENT OF D.C. BLU. DO NOT COPY AND/OR REDISTRIBUTE WITHOUT THE AUTHOR’S PERMISSION. PLAGIARISM IS CRUEL. PLEASE BE RESPECTFUL.

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