“Scarlett!” I yelled, my voice echoing through the quiet house. My quiet house.
Restored to its original beauty, this was the very house I was born in, that I’d inherited once my parents had passed. My brother had no interest in keeping the place, so I’d bought his share.
I
gazed over the antique staircase that wound up to the second floor. This place had class, something so many properties lacked these days. With its polished redwood floors and beautifully high ceilings, you couldn’t help but marvel at the design and the intricate details of the hand-carved cornices and delicate architrave.
I glanced down the hall as Scarlett came running, her bare feet softly thumping against the floor. Her long blonde hair was twisted into a bun, and she wore a short floral sundress that highlighted her long, slim legs.
“Yes?” she said, her breathing labored. My neck stiffened, the burst of color in her cheeks stirring something inside of me. Arousal. I pushed it away and kept my expression emotionless.
“I’ll be out for the next few hours. Please redirect any calls to my cell.” She nodded, and retreated back into the kitchen. I watched her go, my eyes lingering on her ass. “Oh, and Scarlett?” She turned, waiting for me to speak. “I dropped a glass in my study. That will need cleaning up.”
***
I headed outside, pulling on my jacket as I walked to the car. It was a clear, sunny day, but the morning frost was just present enough to put a chill in the air. I opened the door of my Porsche 911 and slid into the driver's seat, the smell of leather and grease engulfing me. God, I loved that smell. I had a passion for cars, and this baby had been my dream for many years—since I was a child. The Porsche had been the only positive thing I had taken out of my relationship with my father. That sounded harsh, but it was the truth.
Nothing had ever been good enough for him or my mother, right up until their death in a car accident six years ago. After years of fighting for their love and approval, it became easier to be the rebel of the family. I lived to break the rules. I was forever pushing boundaries, and the result was that they eventually gave up on me, saying I was a lost cause. Their love and attention was focused on my younger brother, William.
At thirty, he was two years my junior, and different from me in every way. His perfect grades, and long list of extracurricular activates had paid off with a full scholarship to Boston Med. William had been the poster child for everything my parents held dear.
I hadn’t seen or spoken to my brother since their funerals, and that suited me fine.
Life in the Hale household hadn’t exactly been easy for me.
***
I turned the key and the engine revved to life. With a spin of the back wheels, I took off down the street, leaving a trail of smoke behind me. As I tore through the back streets, with little regard for the speed limit, my mind drifted to Beth. Every time she entered my head, my heart began to pound and a layer of perspiration coated my skin. It was like thinking about her gave me a reaction.
Maybe I was allergic to cute little blonde pop stars.
What was this woman doing to me? It'd been a long time since I'd been so invested in another person's well-being. In fact, I couldn't even tell you what this was. Well, I could, but that was something I avoided thinking about whenever possible.
Fucking insane, that's what this was. If you forgot the fact that I was twelve years older than she was, and that she was pretty screwed up at the moment, then sure, maybe this could go somewhere.
Oh wait, that's right—I forgot to consider that I'd been spying on her for the last month. Because that was bound to go down well. I could just see myself working that into the conversation. Then maybe we could sit around and chuckle about the rest of the skeletons in my closet, because if she weren’t scared off already, she sure as fuck would be after that.
Laughing bitterly, I swerved around the corner a little too aggressively. The car spun out of control, almost barreling into a tree. I screeched to a stop, breathing heavily.
“Fuck.” Maybe I needed to get laid. And most definitely not with Beth.
That’s probably all this is: my hormones going crazy because a sexy young woman was paying attention to me.
I could almost convince myself that was true, if it weren’t for the fact that pretty women threw themselves at me all the time. I had no trouble turning any of them down, so why did I find it so hard with Beth?
***
I sat in my car for a minute outside the club. I was trying so hard to rationalize what I was doing with Beth. Or what I wanted to do with her. I had to watch, report and keep her safe.
That was what I was being paid to do.
I wasn’t being paid to flirt with her, or fuck her, or to do anything else, other than keep her out of trouble. I was supposed to keep my distance, and not stir up suspicion.
She’d been out of control in the club that night. I knew the only way to get her home safely was to let her think that she was in control. The whole stunt between her and Scarlett had been my idea. It was either she went home with me, or potentially end up dead in the trunk of some psycho’s car. A bit dramatic maybe, but that’s where she was headed.
How could this possibly end well for me? No matter where this went, if she ever found out the truth, I’d be dead.
Getting out of the car, I slammed the door shut and walked over to the back entrance. From the outside, the place looked like any of the other industrial factories that lined this part of town. Rule one of operating this kind of club: respect the patrons. They wanted to know they could come here and not end up on the front page of Celebrity Times. I kept my clientele small, and so far I’d managed to avoid any major confidentiality breaches.