Dirty Money

by Michelle Love

  Something about her just feels right!

  Quinn

  The night lights have the properties in the posh Palos Verdes Estates looking like something out of a movie. When the driver pulls up to a gate and enters a code, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. The place is monstrous!

  Dark, almost chocolate colored trim drastically contrasts with the sandy color of the cement walls. It looks like a modern-day castle. Complete with a turret at the far end. A light’s on at the top of it and it goes off as we pull into the winding driveway.

  Everything is cement except for where we entered at. There was a little cactus garden there. Other than that, I’m looking at massive amounts of cement.

  The front door is ornate with a brass knocker right in the middle of it. It looks like a dragon’s head. As the door opens, I see a small, rotund woman, wearing a black and white maid’s uniform and she has a feather duster in her hand.

  An older man hurries out to meet me at the car. My heart lurches as he’s dressed in tan slacks, a white button-down, and brown loafers. His white hair is combed neatly to one side, and his blue eyes have paled with age.

  Is this Christopher Martin?

  As the driver stops, the man opens my door. “Hello, Miss Cantrell. I’m George, Mr. Martin’s butler. He prefers to call me his house man, though.”

  Relief washes over me to find out the old man is not the man who wants me to have his baby. I take his extended hand and allow him to help me out of the car. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, George.” He sees the bag I brought with the cake in it and grabs it up before I can turn back to get it. “Thank you.”

  “Not a problem, Miss Cantrell.” He leads me to the waiting maid and introduces her, “This is Camilla. She’s the head of housekeeping.”

  The older woman extends her hand and I shake it as she says, “The head of housekeeping sounds great. But I’m the only housekeeper. I wouldn’t call myself something any more prestigious than that. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Cantrell.”

  “The only housekeeper?” I ask as that sounds impossible. “In a place this enormous?”

  “Mr. Martin’s an impeccably clean living man. It’s not hard to do. It’s just dusting, mostly,” she says as she wiggles her feather duster at me.

  “I see,” I say as I walk into the foyer. The ceiling goes all the way up to the third floor in the narrow room. “How many people does he have on staff here to take care of the whole place?”

  “Just us,” George tells me, shocking me. “And once a week a service comes to take care of the pool in the back. Other than that, no one else is allowed out here.”

  “Oh,” I say and feel a bit prickly. “Is Mr. Martin an unsocial person?” When the two hold their lips tight, I know I’ve asked a question they’d rather not answer. “Don’t bother answering that. That was impolite of me to ask. So, where is this elusive Mr. Martin?”

  “He’s in the blue room. One of his favorite places to be. There are many aquariums in the room. He finds the fish relaxing,” Camilla says then points at the brown paper bag George is still holding. “Is that the cake you said you were going to bring?”

  “It is,” I say. “If you’ll take me to the kitchen, I’ll plate it up.”

  “Nonsense, I can do that. Dinner’s almost ready. I have some finishing touches to add then I’ll be serving it in the formal dining room as Mr. Martin has directed me to.”

  George hands her the bag and offers me his arm. “And I shall escort you to the master.”

  I giggle with his formality and take his arm. “Please do, sir.”

  Through a maze-like hallway that has many doors coming off it, we go. The twists and turns soon have me lost, and then he stops at a door and gives it two quick knocks. “I have Miss Cantrell for you, sir.”

  Nothing comes for a moment then finally I hear that deep, smooth voice call out from the other side of the door, “Bring her to me.”

  “Kind of silly, isn’t he?” I ask.

  “I wouldn’t know, ma’am. I’ve only seen him a handful of times,” his butler tells me then opens the door.

  The room is lit in pale blue hues as there are five sizable tanks of fish in the room. “Leave us,” I hear Christopher say but I still don’t see him as George closes the door behind him after he gives me a nod.

  My mind is telling me I should be afraid, but my gut is telling me the man who’s hiding isn’t a threat, he’s merely shy. “This place is marvelous, Christopher. Did you build this yourself?”

  “I had a strong hand in designing it, yes.” I hear his voice move behind the tanks as he talks and turn to where I think he’ll emerge.

  “Well, you are talented. I have to give you credit for how remarkable the place is. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

  A dark shadow moves in between a tank and the wall. “Do you like tropical fish, Quinn?”

  “I do. And these are gorgeous.” I look at a tank full of colorful fish. “I have no idea what any of them are called. You’ll have to school me on that.”

  Warm breath hits the back of my neck, making my body go stiff. I pulled my dark hair up into a loose bun to give myself a laid back, and Earthy kind of appearance. I can feel him, standing behind me. Close enough that I can smell his musky and unique scent. Sandalwood and nutmeg are powerful components in the aroma he’s wearing.

  “That one in front of you is called an Andinoacara rivulatus or a Green Terror in layman’s terms,” his voice is but a whisper, his body is still as he stands just behind me. Then his hand moves over my shoulder, turning me to look at him.

  It’s hard not to quiver as we look one another over. He’s taller than me by a foot. I’d guess he’s six three. Massive muscles bulge under a tight, royal blue T-shirt. A dark hooded jacket is over that, he has the hood up on, keeping his face in the shadows.

  Not finding it fair that he gets to see all of me but I don’t get to see all of him, I boldly push the hood back. I’m struck by his facial features. Piercing eyes, the color of slate, almost glare at me for overstepping my bounds. Dark brows furrow, making severe lines appear on his forehead. Deep frown lines etch semi-circles around his plump lips. They’re a mixture of pink and tan, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that exact shade before. His hair is long and hangs in dark waves. He’s gorgeous!

  Christopher

  Blue eyes peer up at me as I glare down at the small woman. Her thick brown hair is piled up on top of her head. Her creamy skin glows with confidence. Plump, red lips are pursed, ready to say something as I scowl at her for pushing my hood off. “And what made you think you could do such a thing?”

  With a wink, she says, “You could see me, I wanted to see you. And may I say that you should never hide that gorgeous face in the shadows of a hood, Christopher? I mean, you’re exquisite. Why hide?”

  How do I tell her it’s because of how people look at me that has me hiding?

  I shrug and step back. As usual, I’ve moved in much too closely to her. I have no idea of how close or far away to stand from people. It’s had some pretty naughty things happen to me in the past, and others have given me some frank words about being in their space.

  Deciding to change the subject line, I say, “Well, you’re quite a remarkable beauty, yourself.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m cute at best. No need to lie.”

  Reaching out to her, I pull her to me and look down into those languid pools she’s staring up at me with and sigh. “I never lie. You are a real beauty, Quinn.”

  I can feel my pulse getting faster. My stomach is tense, and her body feels so right in my arms. But I’m moving too fast and will scare her away. With an abrupt push, I move her back and turn to walk away.

  “Oh!” she shouts. “Where are you going?”

  “To dinner. You do recall accepting the invitation to a late supper, don’t you?”

  She hurries to my side. “Of course, I do. Don’t leave me behind, though. I’m quite lost in your home.”

  I st
op and look at her with a frown. “If you accept this offer, then this will become your home too. How will you rectify your problem with the size of it?”

  “With time, I’ll learn my way around, I’m sure.” She takes my hand in hers, and I shiver with the sensations that run through me. “For now, though. Please keep me with you. Don’t make me chase after you. You might lose me in these many walls you’ve built.”

  I want to kiss her. That’s all I want to do!

  Swallowing back my desire, I say, “Then hold tight. I don’t wish to lose you just yet.”

  “Nor I you,” she says, making me smile a bit. A thing I don’t often do.

  As we get into the formal dining room, I ring the bell that hangs on the wall to signal the staff I’m ready to eat. The table is long, it seats eighteen people. A spray of white roses lies in the middle of the mahogany table. Two candelabras sit on either side of them.

  Seating her in a chair at the end, I go to take my place at the other end of the long table. When I take my seat, I see her looking a bit astonished. “What?” I ask her.

  “Are we to conversate being this far apart?” She looks at me with bewilderment on her beautiful face.

  To be perfectly honest, I didn’t take that into consideration. So, I get up and go back to her and take her hand. “Come with me.” I lead her to the other end where I sit and place her in the chair just to the right of me. “Is this better, Quinn?”

  “Yes, it is.” She smiles at me as I take my place again. Her hand touches my leg, making me look at it.

  Perhaps we’re too close. I look back at her and find such a delightful expression on her face. “I don’t suppose you have many guests come to visit with you.”

  I’ve had none since I moved in. But I don’t want her to know that. Not yet, anyway. “Let’s just stop beating around the bush. I want to know why a woman as beautiful as you are, wants to have a child with a stranger.”

  “And I’d like to know why a gorgeous, wealthy man like you wants that as well.” She looks at me as she props her elbows on the table and laces her long, slender fingers then rests her chin on them, waiting for my answer.

  Well, she can wait. She won’t be getting one!

  The door opens and in comes George and Camilla with the roll-away tray with our food. A gin and tonic has been made, and Camilla places it in front of my guest. “For you, ma’am.”

  “Thank you, Camilla,” Quinn says, sweetly then takes a sip of the tall drink and nods. “This is splendid.”

  George smiles as he says, “I made it for you, ma’am. I’m glad you like it.”

  She nods at him and gives him a dazzling smile. “And thank you for making it.”

  I can see she’s genuine. Nothing seems fake about her. Yet.

  The silver trays of food are placed in front of us, and the bottle of red wine I wanted is put in front of me along with a glass that George fills up. Suddenly, I feel too pampered and shout, “I’ve got it from here. Leave us!”

  My staff scampers away as I turn my head to find a frown on Quinn’s face. “Christopher! There are better ways to let people know you no longer need or want their help. Shouting isn’t a nice thing to do. Not ever!”

  “Sorry,” I mumble. Then fidget for a moment then remember that this is my damn house and eye her. “No, I’m not sorry. Look, this is me. This is who I am…”

  She butts in as she says, “Then perhaps you should think a lot more seriously about having a baby. I can tell you now that shouting will lead to a baby or child crying and then you really have problems.”

  I stop and think about what she’s saying and know she’s right. “Sorry.” I leave it at that. No reason to say anything else.

  She turns her attention to the food. “The meal looks delicious. Let’s dig in, shall we?”

  I like the way she thinks and pick up my knife and fork and get to eating the first meal I’ve shared with anyone in years and years. Our forks scrape the plates as we cut our meat. The sound of us chewing is all I can hear, and I think about what I could do to take away some of this racket.

  Putting down her utensils, Quinn pulls her cell phone out of her handbag and puts on some soft music then sets it on the table. “Do you mind this?”

  I shake my head and start to eat again. With the sound of the music, the noises we’re making fade to the background, and I feel more relaxed. “So, you’re from London, you said?”

  “I am,” she says with a nod. “I come from healthy stock. Not one case of cancer, heart disease, or any other major health problems are in my family history. We Cantrell’s all live to be well over ninety-years-old. You can trust in my genetic makeup.”

  “I wish I could say the same.” I take another bite as I wonder about my genetic makeup.

  When her hand touches the top of mine, I look at it. Heat moves like a river through me. My mouth is watering, and I can’t think. So, I move my hand to pick up a roll and take a bite of it.

  “Would you like to tell me about it?” she asks.

  “I don’t know who my parents are. I was placed in an orphanage when I was a baby. I never was adopted. I have no idea what kind of genetic problems I’d pass down to a kid.” I watch her eyes grow glossy. She’s feeling sorry for me, and I hate that. “Myself, though. Well, I’m as healthy as they come. I work out five hours every single day. I eat healthy most of the time. My alcohol consumption is limited as well. It’s been years since I’ve had so much as the sniffles.” Then I think about why that is and add, “But I think that’s mostly because I rarely go out in public.”

  “And why is that?” she asks as she gently taps the red, linen napkin to her lips.

  Drawing my attention to her luscious lips that I’d like so very much to kiss, I can only answer with, “Huh?”

  She takes my chin in her delicate hand. “Christopher, why is it that you don’t go out in public?”

  “If I knew, I’d let you know. I just don’t like to, is all. I can use the computer or my cell to order what I want or need. Oh, I’ve already furnished the nursery. Would you like to see it? And I’ve baby-proofed almost all of the house too. I’m getting prepared already.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve already done that,” she says with wide eyes. “That’s jumping the gun, don’t you think?”

  “You certainly have an opinion on everything, don’t you?” I bark at her as she’s confusing me as to who’s in charge here. It’s me!

  “Does that bother you?” she asks and leaves me at a loss for words.

  Does it?

  “I’m just not used to people. So, let me do this thing right. I want to ask you some questions, and you tell me no lies. Okay?”

  She nods. “I see no reason to lie to you. I only want this if I think it’s best for us both.”

  “Question number one. Are you ready to have a baby? And why?”

  Her blank expression has my insides twisting. If she doesn’t answer this one right, then we have no more to talk about. And I’m finding that a bit scary for some reason.

  Quinn

  I don’t know quite what to say to Christopher’s question. How can I tell him that when I saw his little Tweet that I got an odd feeling?

  So, I clear my throat and say, “I am ready to have a baby. The reason is that I think it’ll help me out in many ways. First, I’d like someone to give my love to. I’ve been a solitary individual most of my life. I can get along well with others, mind you, but I’ve chosen to spend most of my time alone. Learning how to act and write and other solitary things. A baby should draw me out more. And the thought of making a baby with someone kind of like myself sounds fascinating.”

  I can see by how his pupils enlarge that he liked my answer. Then he asks, “And what about being intimate with a complete stranger? Does that not bother you at all? Are you promiscuous by nature?”

  “Not at all,” I answer and know why he’d ask such a thing. This is an abrupt move into sex.

  “Okay, let me be honest with you. I saw your
tweet, and something flashed inside of me. It was like I was meant to answer your ad, and I was intended to be the mother of your child.” I sit back and watch his reaction to what I’ve said. I know it sounds insane and I know he might toss me out now.

  “When I heard your voice over the phone, I had a similar reaction. You know what. I think I’ve found the one to do this with. Following a visit to my physician and having tests done to make sure you’re disease free and fertile, I’d like to make this happen. And I’d like you to move in as soon as we have the results and the contract signed.”

  My heart starts banging in my chest, and I find my mouth opening and words spilling out before my brain can stop them, “Can we kiss and see if that feels right? Before I go through everything else, can we do that and see if we have a spark.”

  He gets up and comes to me, picking me up in his arms. Becoming aware of nothing but how handsome he is and how right his arms feel as he holds me, has my knees going weak.

  Moving so slowly, it seems as if he’s hardly moving at all, he comes to me, his lips finally touch mine which are quivering in anticipation. Heat zips through me as our mouths open and our tongues dance. It’s so damn easy!

  The way his hands move up from my waist to the back of my neck has me leaning into him even more as he gently grasps my neck, moving my head a bit to one side and deepening the kiss. The kiss that’s growing with desire and passion.

  Before I know it, he has me against the wall. Our bodies are flush with one another. His broad chest is smashing my breasts. His manhood is swelling and pulsing against my sex.

  His silky waves of hair feel amazing as I tangle my hands in them. And then suddenly he ends the kiss, stepping back so quickly that I nearly fall as I was leaning against him. “What?”

  “It’s just, it’s just that you…” he stumbles back a few more steps. “You just make me feel…”

  He’s sweating, shaking, and I feel terrible for him. “I think you’re panicking, Chris. We don’t have to do any more. I can see we’ll have no problem creating chemistry to get the job done.” I giggle a little as he falls into a chair.