“Lauren, what’s all this nonsense? I’ve gotten two calls already this morning about Ricky?” I walked into the lobby of my office and glared at my assistant.
“Yes sir.” She nodded quickly. “Apparently he partied a little too hard last night and missed practice this morning.”
“Bloody hell…” I growled under my breath. “Send someone to his house to get his ass in gear.”
“Yes sir.” Lauren reached for the phone.
Ricky Bonds was my biggest client and the one who brought in the most money. He was the quarterback for the Los Angeles Bashers, and he was supposed to be on the field practicing with the rest of the football team—not sleeping off a fucking hangover. Luckily, he was too good for the team to let him go, but Coach Thornton’s patience was wearing thin. Ricky wasn’t going to lead the team to their second Super Bowl appearance if he didn’t show up for practice—and he should have been there early considering that he fumbled the ball the last time he touched it, which cost his team the game.
A few more plays like that and they won’t care how good he is—he’ll be riding the fucking bench.
One hour later
“He’s on his way to practice.” Lauren walked to the doorway of my office and peeked her head in.
“Good.” I leaned back in my chair. “Any other issues we need to deal with?”
“No, but you’ve got a few meetings this afternoon.” She held up the tablet that was always in her left hand. “Nothing major, just routine stuff.”
“That’s fine.” I turned towards my computer.
“Oh, how are things going with your new roommate?” Lauren lowered her tablet and chuckled. “I still can’t believe you let an eighteen-year-old girl invade your Fortress of Solitude.”
“No problems so far.” I shrugged. “She moved in yesterday. The rest of her stuff arrives tomorrow. I guess she’s doing—whatever kids her age do. Studying for school or doing homework.”
“I doubt that.” Lauren grinned. “Classes haven’t even started yet. I bet she’s already broken something or found out where you hide the key to the liquor cabinet—she probably found that the minute you left this morning.”
“It’s—not locked.” I raised my eyebrows slightly. “Nah, her mother said she’s a good kid. I don’t think I have anything to worry about.”
“Oh boy…” Lauren looked down and started laughing. “You’re in so much trouble.”
“Don’t you have some work to do?” I narrowed my eyes and growled under my breath.
“Yes sir.” She turned and walked back to her desk, but I could still hear her laughing.
I really hope she isn’t right.
I was more than happy to help when I got the call from Chrissy’s mother. I really didn’t even think twice about it. Chrissy’s father, Samuel Banks, was my mentor and my best friend when he was alive. Truthfully, he was the only real friend I ever had, and I would have done anything to help his family. I had offered multiple times over the years, but Candice Banks was a proud woman. She refused to take a handout, even when she needed it. She even returned the money I tried to send her anonymously—I guess she knew I was the only one who would have sent it. Being able to finally help was enough for me to open the doors to my Fortress of Solitude, as Lauren put it. I could handle an eighteen-year-old girl—surely.
Later that day
I tried to reassure myself that everything was going to be fine when I got home, but Lauren’s warning stuck with me, so I decided to leave the office after my last meeting was done. I was a little concerned that Chrissy hadn’t hit the red button at all during the day. I figured she would at least ask for some lunch. There was a chance she decided to drive into town to pick up something, but that meant she was using one of my cars—which, also filled me with worry. It would be easier just to make sure the house was still standing, the cars didn’t have any dents, and Chrissy wasn’t passed out on the couch with an empty bottle of liquor beside her.
Damn it, Lauren. I convinced myself this wasn’t a big deal and now my head is going crazy with every worst-case scenario possible.
“Chrissy, are you here?” I walked through the front door and closed it behind me.
There was no response, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t somewhere in the house. I checked the garage and saw the cars were all there. The security panel indicated that the garage had stayed closed between the time I left and when I came home. I checked the kitchen and saw a few breadcrumbs on the counter. That solved the lunch mystery. She must have made something for herself—and left a mess. I wiped them off and walked into the living room. No sign of her—and the liquor cabinet looked like it hadn’t been disturbed—not that I would have really noticed since I didn’t drink much.
What would I be doing if I was her—ah, the pool perhaps?
I decided to check the pool before I went to the room with the security cameras. If she was in the house, that would have been the quickest way to find her, but my initial instinct was right. She was doing laps in the indoor pool. I was going to just leave her there, but she spotted me before I had a chance. She quickly swam to the edge of the pool and started to climb out. My eyes—well, they nearly bulged out of my head. Chrissy might have been an eighteen-year-old girl, but there was nothing teenage about that body. She was pretty—I obviously noticed that when she arrived, but there was a big difference between noticing she was a cute girl in a t-shirt and jeans—and realizing she was fucking gorgeous in nothing but a bikini.
Okay, mind out of the gutter. That’s Sam’s kid.
“Hey!” She grabbed a towel—and thankfully covered up the breasts that were almost impossible to look away from. “I didn’t think you would be home this early.”
“It was a slow day.” I shrugged and walked down to the concrete that surrounded the pool. “I see that you’ve made yourself at home.”