Knocked Up by the C.E.O (Knocked Up)

“Oh my god, did they find the missing information? Could they have figured something out before the people you hired?” She’s up and moving to her bag that’s placed on a chair in the corner of my room, body on full display in her nakedness, and if she weren’t going crazy, I’d be carrying her back to bed.

“I’m not sure, but I’d prefer we did this dressed rather than naked.” She grabs her clothes. Neither of us were planning on leaving the house this weekend. It wasn’t stated, but the fact of the matter is that we’re still keeping this close to the vest, and we’re both burnt out from the work week from hell. Who knows what she packed?

“I’ll do that. You go take care of yourself. I can be presentable in two minutes.” She sashays into the bathroom holding her clothes and toiletry bag.

“We probably have five or so minutes. Don’t hurry too much on their account,” I call out and then head into the master closet while pulling up my attorney’s number. If anyone can be here while charging an ass load of money, it’ll be Dante. That man is a bulldog in and out of the courtroom.

“Good, I’ll have time for coffee, then,” she volley’s back. I don’t respond. I’m getting dressed as we speak and placing a call.

Thirteen

Dylan

Thank goodness I had the forethought to throw a dress into my bag at the last minute. It’s navy blue in color, an easy material that doesn’t get wrinkles no matter how it’s folded and hangs on your body instead of conforming to it. I add my earrings and bracelet, do a quick brush of my teeth, because morning breath and its unpleasantries that come along with it. I’m praying that the reason for the police officers being here is for good news and they just need to know what I found and how it was discovered.

“Coffee?” I ask Wesley as I walk out of the bathroom. I didn’t have time to do my hair, so I just ran my fingers through it and put it in a loose ponytail to the side.

“Sure. Dante McIntire will be joining us. He’s an attorney, and I’d like him to be with us just in case,” he states. Wes is dressed in black button-down, black slacks, and black shoes. I swear my center clenches at the exact time I take him all in.

“Okay.” I don’t say anything else, but by the time I’m taking my second sip of coffee and Wes is grabbing his, the elevator is alerting us that company has arrived.

I watch the entire process from the kitchen, feeling like I’ll be more of an outsider than anything. There are two men, both in dress clothes, so they must be detectives and not work the street. One has his badge on his hip; the other one has his hanging around his neck. The men talk for a few minutes before making their way further inside Wesley’s sleek and modern apartment is a typical bachelor style pad in that there isn’t a throw blanket or pillows anywhere. Heck, there isn’t even a plant.

“Miss. Thorne, I’m Detective Allen, and this is my partner, Detective Goss. We’d like to talk to you for a few minutes.” He shakes my hand, Wes planted firmly at my side.

“Nice to meet you, and of course, I’m an open book.” The other detective stands off to the side in an ‘I’m more muscles than anything’ manner. I’d roll my eyes, but that really wouldn’t be a great first impression.

“That’s good because these might not be easy. Were you aware that there’s a sum of two hundred fifty thousand dollars in your account?” I’m struck silent. I don’t make that kind of money. My family lives well within their means, but that amount of money has never seen my bank account.

“What? Are you positive?” I respond, feeling lightheaded.

“I’m positive. A woman matching your description was caught on surveillance depositing it a few days ago.”

“I think we need to take this to the kitchen table. I’d love to see your proof, and just so you’re aware, my and Miss. Thorne’s attorney will be her momentarily. And if you’re questioning her for an arrest, then you’ll be waiting until Mr. McIntire is here,” Wesley wades in. My hands are trembling, body sweating, and I’m not sure how much longer my legs will hold me up with them feeling like jelly right now.

“That might be a good thing, Mr. Maxwell,” the other detective cuts in. I set my cup of coffee on the counter. The richness sitting heavy in my stomach feels like acid now.

“Let’s look at this so-called evidence you have.” How he can be smooth and collected, I have no idea, not when something like this is coming at him.