Instead of arguing with me, Bentley texted me the address to his penthouse and left it up to me to decide whether I wanted to come over or not. I was hesitant. Because being alone with a man I barely knew was a big no-no. But when it came to Bentley, so many things had me conflicted.
I realized I had forgotten my pocket knife when I got to the elevator. By then, the doors had closed me in, and I was already on my way up. I was sure there was a camera somewhere watching me, so I kept my composure and waited for my stop.
The door chimed and slid open, revealing Bentley standing at his personal bar with no shirt. His body was rippled with muscles and so many tattoos that he looked like a completely different person.
“She came.” He glanced at me while pouring himself a drink. “If I had known you were coming, I would’ve put on a shirt.”
My mouth watered at the sight of him. I had no complaints about him being shirtless. I enjoyed the view.
“This is your home,” I said, walking in nonchalantly. "Quite peculiar, I must say. In a normal penthouse, the elevator leads to a living room, maybe a kitchen. Why an office?”
He downed his shot of brown alcohol on his way over to me. His face contorted a bit at the taste, but even that had no affect on how good looking of a man he was.
“It’s where I spend most of my time,” he said. “No point in getting too comfortable if all you do is work.”
He stood in front of me, flaunting his large pecs, solid arms, and rock hard abs. It was hard to look away from such a gorgeous man. But I was sure he didn’t mind at all. The daring look in his eyes said so.
“Come with me. I’ll show you around.”
I followed him from his luxury home office into a large living room, covered in earthy toned decor. The adjacent kitchen was homey and filled with all the latest gadgets. There was a beautiful staircase that led to a luxurious loft style bedroom, illuminated by soft lights and different shades of green plants.
His home was beautiful. There were large paintings on the concrete walls that looked as though they were handpainted by someone famous. I was surprised to learn that he was the artist. Then again, Bentley was a man of many mysteries, and the rugged style of his penthouse complimented it.
“This is a beautiful home,” I said. “Larger than it needs to be for one person, but very beautiful.”
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Maybe someday, if I get lucky, I’ll have a family to share it with.”
He walked past me with the bottle of alcohol pressed to his lips. He seemed different behind closed doors. Like he was in a state of reflection or wanted something more out of life. I would have never imagined a billionaire to suffer from depression. But the old saying goes: money can’t buy happiness.
“I would have never taken you for an artist,” I said, getting closer to one of the large paintings propped against the wall. “This is really good. What is it?”
After another swig from the bottle, Bentley made his way over to the corner where I stood with the painting. The area was dim and warm and smelled like his cologne. I could tell the last strokes on the painting were fresh because his scent still lingered strong. I silently wished I could bottle up that portion of the air and take it with me.
“It’s my idea of passion.” He pointed out the curvy body of a woman with a man's strong hands caressing her. “You see how his veins bulge as he touches her? That’s the fire inside him that makes him ready to do whatever it takes to save her. When you love someone, your passion for them is fierce and unwavering. As a man, it burns deep and makes you want to explode if that love is ever threatened.”
His explanation was so poetic. The sound of his voice when he told his tale made me believe every word that fell from his lips. It was even easier to believe because he was an artist. I have an insane obsession for men of the arts. Especially if he looked like Bentley.
"Wow, I never met a poetic gangster,” I teased. “I’m really impressed. You could be the next Tupac. Are you sure you’re not really Tupac and just wearing someone else's skin?”
Bentley laughed and laughed at my joke. I had to laugh too because his was infectious. The way his eyes lit up and his cheeks rose to show his fulfillment made me feel accomplished. It was another genuine moment shared between us. One I didn’t expect to walk into, but I’m glad I did.
“Do you want a glass of champagne?” he asked. “I should have asked a long time ago.”
I was hesitant to take a drink that night, but after finding that note, I needed something to take the edge off.
“Sure. I'll have one. As long as you don’t put anything in it.”
“Ahh,” he slowly nodded. “I’ll do you one better.”
He disappeared into the kitchen while I removed my jacket and sat down on the couch. I loved the openness of his living area. It was intimate because of all the paintings, but still spacious enough to make me want to get closer. When he came back from the kitchen, he had an unopened bottle of champagne and a glass in his hand. Then handed it to me.
“I’ll let you do the honors and pour it yourself.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. I didn’t actually expect him to make me open the bottle on my own, but he insisted that I stay safe. After that, he handed me his iPad with his latest security footage to show me that he was home all night. Never left. Not once.
But there was something else.
Rodger’s car was on the footage. There was a dark figure standing beside it, but I couldn’t tell if it was him. Whoever it was just stood there, glaring in the direction of the lobby doors.Why would Rodger be tailing Bentley?My instincts made me think he was secretly trying to steal my story and apply for the anchor position himself. He didn’t even seem interested in Ivy’s case, so it was strange. Then suddenly, an even stranger thought popped into my head. What if Rodger is working for Bentley!?"Did I leave at all?”Bentley’s voice snapped me back to reality. It was silky and smooth, but still deep and strong. By then, the bubbles from the champagne had made their way into my bloodstream and made me feel just as nice.“Not yet,” I tried to hide my smile. “You are so arrogant, you know?”“I’m arrogant?” He laughed like an almighty king, and I was his peasant. “I don’t think I am. Confident, maybe.”I looked over to him, canvassing his art work as if he were looking for any imperfec
Being in Bentley’s presence gave me a feeling I had never felt before. So, I agreed to one last drink if he agreed to tell me what he knew about Ivy. He insisted he didn't know anything about her, but I knew different. I knew that his company had asked to buy her plant shop a week before she was killed. What I didn't know was why he wanted to hide it.“Tell me about this job of yours,” he said as he refilled our glasses. “Are you on the news or documentaries? Or are you just the information mule?”“Eh,” I wavered. “A little of both. My goal is to become an anchor and eventually start hosting my very own true crime special.”“Ahh, so that’s why you’re working on this story.”“Not entirely. Ivy was an old friend of mine, and we look out for our own around here.”My tone was stern. I wanted to make a statement without having to spell it out to him, and he caught my drift. The police in Westlake weren’t always reliable, and he knew why. His family knew why. We all knew why.“Do you really
“Don’t you touch that door.”I removed my seatbelt as the car came to a halt in my driveway. Bentley gave me a stern look that set me on edge again, but then I realized he was on his way to my side of the car.“A lady never opens her own door.”I held onto his hand and eased my way out. Still a little embarrassed for getting too ahead of myself, I took the walk of shame to my front door. Bentley stayed right behind me, making sure I made every step and didn’t trip over so much as a pebble. It was romantic. Thoughtful. Sweet. Until it wasn’t.“What the hell?” I frowned. “I could have sworn I locked this.”I pushed open my half-shut front door and reached for the lamp. Afraid of what I might find, I kept my eyes on Bentley, who looked more concerned than I felt. Because I was still tipsy, I couldn’t remember if I had left my door open in a hurry or if someone had gone in while I was out. When Bentey realized my dilemma, he jumped straight into action.“I take it you didn’t leave this op
The intense static of my police scanner startled me awake. It was after midnight when the alert came through. An unidentified woman was found slain outside of Club Lure, one of the hottest nightclubs in Westlake, Texas. As an investigative journalist, this was a major event for me. I knew that if I could crack the case before anyone else, it would improve my chances of landing an anchor position with Westlake News.In a hurry, I threw on my torn jeans, my favorite band's graphic t-shirt, and jean jacket. Grabbed the keys to my 2017 Kia sedan and rushed to the scene. As expected, there was a crowd of people already there, being chaotic and cluttering the way of the police.I forced my way through the crowd with my recorder in hand. I hoped I’d be able to catch the name of the victim or any details to help the case, but no one talked about the specifics. No one even knew there was any conflict going on until they were told to exit the building.“I need everyone to stand behind the yello
I had a restless night before making it to the office the next morning. I tossed and turned, thinking about Ivy. I thought about Bentley and his invite. The gold trimmed flyer he gave me had an address to a large mansion and pictures of high fashion celebrities that I didn’t think I would fit in with.I planned to go shopping after I left the office. Because if I wanted to get close to him, I had to look like I belonged with him. At least, that was the way he made me feel.“The office is buzzing this morning. What’s going on?”Rodger entered my office without knocking. As he always did. For some reason, he thought he and I were a lot closer than we were. I knew he held out hope that I would give him a chance to be my man, but Rodger wasn’t the kind of guy I looked for. After having my heart broken and my trust betrayed, I was convinced that I would never date again.“Ivy Smith’s body was found outside of club Lure last night. Everyone’s trying to get a headstart on the story since tha
My sit down with the Smith’s lasted about two hours. I asked a lot of questions and really pounded them hard for answers. They told me what they could about Ivy’s mystery man, but nothing grabbed my attention right away.When I left, I was a wreck. I felt guilty, sad. Angry. It was still pretty early in the evening, so instead of going home to wallow in my emotions, I called Bentley. To my surprise, he answered my call on the first ring. I was sure that a busy man like him would be on a flight for a one-day business trip. But he was waiting on me to call.“I’m surprised you called,” he said.“Yeah, so am I, actually.” I wanted to be light and airy, but I felt weighed down and full of grief. “I’m on my way to the mall, if you wanna meet me there. I don’t know exactly what we’re meeting for if you can’t help with Ivy’s case, but that’s where I’ll be.”“Say less. I’ll meet you there.”What am I doing? I questioned. This is a dangerous man. Handosme, yeah. But still dangerous. I don't eve
When I looked in his direction, he was nodding, almost as if he had gone through something similar. Some of the rumors said that he was born into a family who had strict mafia ties, and looking at him, I believed it. No matter how charming, handsome, and down to earth he was, there was something about him that confirmed the speculations.We ended up going to Legrand, one of the most upscale designer malls in Westlake. I had never been shopping at Legrand. I’d only driven by and wished that I could afford to shop there. My surprise must have been written all over my face because before we exited the vehicle, Bentley asked if I had ever been.“In my dreams, yeah,” I chuckled. “I’d have to become anchor at the biggest news station known to man to be able to afford anything here.”Shit! I thought. Now he knows I’m not just Ivy’s friend, but I’m also a reporter. I wanted to keep my ties to anything newsworthy hidden because I needed to present as a regular. I didn’t want Bentley getting su
Saturday evening rolled in, and I stood in my mirror, preparing for what felt like the biggest night of my life. I was wearing an elegant cream colored strapless gown, the highest pair of heels I ever dared to walk in, and sported a small clutch that Bentley picked out to carry my recorder.I felt beautiful. But I was scared and nervous because Rodger’s warning sat in the back of my mind. As I got ready to walk into the lion's den full of hungry billionaire’s and their prey, I prayed it wouldn’t be the biggest mistake of my life.“Name?” A large bouncer standing at the door with a clipboard and checklist asked.“J-Justine,” I stammered. “Justine Sky.”The amazon of a man gave me a cold look from head to toe before saying, “Mr. Thomas’ VIP. He’s waiting for you inside.”He removed the velvet rope from its golden post and stepped aside to let me in. My heart thudded in my chest as I walked the red carpet of the entrance. Although I was invited by the host himself, I still felt out of pl