Beckett - Book 1

by Brooks, Gemma

  “Hi,” I said with a kind smile as I tried not to cough. A cloud of cheap cologne radiated off him and his suit screamed off-the-rack.

  “I’m Ronnie,” he said with a smile that revealed an array of oddly shaped and discolored teeth.

  “Hadley,” I replied. Taylor was trying not to laugh as she hid her smile in the opposite direction. I shot her a dirty look.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” he waved his hand up to get the bartender’s attention.

  “No, no,” I said. “That’s okay. I just ordered another one a second ago.”

  “So, uh, what brings you here tonight?” he asked. His hand was gripping the bar behind me as he invaded my personal space.

  “Just out for drinks,” I said. I wasn’t good with playing the game nor did I have any interest in playing it with Ronnie.

  “Oh, yeah?” he asked. His eyes were practically undressing me right there on the spot.

  “Do you live in the city?” I asked. The polite southerner in me never failed to emerge at all the wrong times, and I kicked myself for engaging him in further conversation. I knew full well that he didn’t have a shot in hell with me.

  “Brooklyn,” he said. “I work up the street at a law firm.”

  His cologne was starting to make me nauseous, and I was desperate to get away from him. I shot Taylor a second look, but she was suddenly deep in conversation with someone else. As a realtor, she pretty much knew everyone in the city. I couldn’t take her anywhere without her bumping into someone.

  I looked down at his hand, which was still gripping the edge of the bar. The indentation on his left ring finger told me he was probably some horny, seldom-laid married man looking for a one-night stand in the city.

  “There you are,” a man’s voice called from behind Ronnie. “Excuse me.”

  A firm hand gripped Ronnie’s shoulder and gently pushed him aside. Standing before me was a taller man in a navy suit with perfectly combed, thick, dark hair and a hint of a five o’clock shadow. His piercing blue eyes locked into mine, and I could have sworn my heart skipped a few beats. I racked my brain trying to remember if I was supposed to know him or not. He looked familiar, but in more of a nostalgic sort of way.

  “Sorry I’m late,” the man said as he leaned in and pretended to kiss my cheek, his lips merely grazing my skin. “Work ran late today. As always.”

  He turned to face Ronnie and raised his eyebrows as if to tell him to get lost. A smile crept across my mouth as I got it. He was trying to save me from Ronnie.

  “Oh, uh, sorry, bro,” Ronnie said before scurrying back to his corner in the bar. With that, Ronnie, his cheap suit, and his cloud of cologne were gone.

  “Thank you for that,” I said. The man took a seat in the bar stool next to mine and gave a quick wave to the bartender.

  The slight scent of a sandalwood and citrus scent wafted towards me and took me to another place and time. He ordered his drink, a top-shelf vodka on the rocks, and turned his focus back to me.

  “I’m Beckett,” he said. “Beckett Alexander.”

  “Hadley,” I drawled. “Hadley Tennyson Par-”

  I stopped myself before finishing my old name.

  “You come here often?” he asked.

  “No,” I laughed. “Didn’t this place just open a couple weeks ago?”

  “I can’t keep track,” he said with a chuckle. His lack of an accent told me he was no native. “These bars pop up every five seconds around here. Just wanted to try something new tonight, I guess.”

  The bartender laid down a thick napkin with the bar’s logo on it and sat his icy cold vodka on top. Beckett slid him a twenty and turned back towards me. Just as Taylor promised, the place was starting to fill up with other patrons. I didn’t care though. Beckett was the only person in the entire room.

  I blocked out the background noise, the shuffling of people in and out, and the warm gush of air that would enter each time someone opened the front door. Time stood still in his presence.

  “So, what do you do for a living, Hadley?” he asked as he sipped his drink, keeping his eyes locked into mine.

  I wasn’t prepared for a question like that, and I suppose I should have been. It was a natural thing to ask.

  I opened my mouth and hesitated before speaking. How do you tell someone you were nothing but a rich asshole’s arm candy for the last six years of your life? That you spent your days getting manicures and blowouts and attending lunches with other women who shared the absurdity of your uncommon lifestyle? At the risk of completely turning him off, I decided to speak the truth. “I’m just coming out of a divorce.”

  I cringed and waited for him to walk quickly in the opposite direction, he didn’t even flinch.

  “I didn’t have a job before,” I said. “I’m hoping to get back on my feet and find something soon.”

  “I see.” He glanced down at his drink and took a swig.

  “I have a few ideas,” I said. “I think I want to start my own modeling agency.”

  I was sure I wasn’t helping my cause. Not only had I divulged that I was an unemployed divorcee, but now I was making myself sound shallow. The silence between us in the deafeningly loud bar was almost painful. He was probably trying to think of a polite way to get the hell out of there and away from me.

  “Aren’t you kind of young to be divorced?” he asked. At least he wasn’t leaving. That was a good sign.

  “Long story,” I sighed.

  “He must be kicking himself right now for losing you.” His steel blue eyes burned with an intensity I’d never seen in anyone else before.

  I laughed. “That’s sweet of you to say, but I doubt it.”

  “Well, he must be a royal asshole then,” Beckett said. His jaw clenched as he took another sip of his vodka.

  “That’s putting it nicely.” I sighed and downed the rest of my drink. The night was young. I wanted another reason to keep talking to him, so against my better judgment, I ordered another drink.

  I glanced over at Taylor, hoping she’d noticed that Ronnie from Brooklyn had been replaced with the gorgeous Adonis that sat before me, but she was still engrossed in her conversation.

  “I noticed you don’t have an accent. Not from around here?” I asked.

  “Not at all,” he said. “I moved here from Nebraska a few years ago.”

  “Nebraska?” He didn’t strike me as anyone who’d be hailing from the Midwest. He was so metropolitan and mysterious. “What brought you here?”

  “Work,” he said. “I do a lot of traveling and meeting with people who all want me to invest in their companies. It’s just easier to do it from here.”

  “So are you like some sort of venture capitalist?”

  “I guess you could say that,” he said with a sexy side-smirk. Everything about him was so fluid, so deliberate. And though we were surrounded with a hundred other beautiful people, he made me feel like I was the only girl in the room.

  ***

  I wish I could’ve remembered what was said between that last drink and the moment we’d arrived at the door to my apartment, but it was all one giant blur.

  Beckett’s hand steadied my back as I fumbled to get my key in the lock. As if my fingers didn’t want to do any work, my keys dropped to my feet.

  “I’ve got it,” Beck said as he leaned down and swooped them up. “Let me help you. Which key is it?”

  “That one,” I said as I drunkenly pointed to about five keys at once.

  “Which one?” he asked again.

  I hadn’t been that drunk in ages, and I was quite certain I was making a huge fool of myself. Not to mention the fact that I’d never brought a man home with me before. I felt like a college freshman exercising her newfound freedom now that she was miles away from the controlling ranks of her parents.

  I couldn’t believe Taylor let me go home with a stranger, but then again, Taylor knew once I had my mind made up there was no changing it.

  Beckett tried a few different keys before
the lock clicked and the door flung open.

  “Welcome to my humble abode,” I giggled as I stumbled inside and kicked my Louboutins off into the corner. I always hated losing those five inches. It was like instantaneously shrinking and losing a little bit of sexiness.

  The high-pitched yipping of my Yorkie, Pretzel, filled the space as she came up and batted at my feet with her tiny paws. I scooped her up in my arms, and she licked the side of my cheek.

  Beckett stood in the center of the room with his hands inserted into his pockets as I flung myself back onto the bed, Pretzel squirming in my arms. My once smoothed hair was becoming frizzy and disheveled, and my skintight dress was aching to be pulled off and replaced with silky soft pajamas, but I was too drunk to really even care.

  “Here,” Beckett said as he pulled back the cover on my bed.

  “I’m not sleeping with you,” I slurred. “If that’s what you think is going to happen then you’re mistaken, mister.”

  I laughed, uncontrollably almost, and ran my fingers along the satin sheets.

  “I’m trying to put you to bed not take you to bed,” he said. I couldn’t tell whether or not he was amused.

  “Sure you are,” I drawled. “Can you get my pajamas? They’re in that top drawer over there by the window.”

  He walked over to my dresser and opened the top left drawer. “Here.”

  He handed me a folded camisole and matching pair of silky pajama shorts.

  “Good pick,” I said with a smirk. In my mind it was a sexy smirk, but I couldn’t be sure it was interpreted that way on the receiving end. I flipped the covers up to my neck as I somehow managed to slip my dress off and pull my pajamas on. I was damn near MacGyver.

  “Okay, Hadley,” he said. “Time to go to bed.”

  “You’re leaving?” What was the point of him taking me home if he was just going to tuck me in and leave?

  “You need to sleep this off,” he said. He stood up and walked the handful of feet towards my kitchen where he began opening random cupboards.

  “What are you looking for?” I called out.

  He returned with a bottle of water in one hand and a few ibuprofen tablets in the other. “You’re going to need this tomorrow.”

  “Oh, thank you,” I said. My inebriated state was beginning to wear off into more of a buzz with each passing minute. “You don’t have to take care of me, you know.”

  I’d never had a man take care of me like that before. It was almost unnatural.

  “Stay with me until I fall asleep?” I asked. It was an odd request, I knew, but I didn’t want to be alone that night.

  “Of course,” he said as he perched near the edge of my bed like a true gentleman.

  I closed my eyes and fell asleep breathing in the faint scent of his intoxicating cologne.

  CHAPTER 2

  “It’s about freaking time,” Taylor said as she stood in the lobby of an apartment building on the upper west side. We were shopping for my new place that Saturday morning, and Taylor was determined to get me into a particular building that just so happened to be next to hers.

  “Sorry,” I groaned. My head throbbed, and I refused to take off the oversized sunglasses that covered my bloodshot eyes. “It’s a miracle I showed up today, so just be happy I’m even here.”

  “What? Did Mr. Blue Suit keep you up all night?” Taylor winked at me as we strode to the elevator.

  “What? No,” I huffed. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “So he just took you home and then left?” Taylor was confused. She pulled the listing information up on her phone and pressed the button for the third floor.

  “Pretty much,” I said, leaving it at that.

  “That’s weird,” she said. “That’s not normal. He’s not normal. There’s something wrong with him.”

  I laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s a gentleman that’s all.”

  “Those don’t exist anymore,” Taylor said. “Hate to break it to you.”

  “Hate to break it to you, but maybe you’re wrong about something for once,” I snipped. We’d always had a playful banter. Taylor knew me well before I’d met Simon. She knew me before I graced the cover of Hamptons magazine and had snippets written about me on Page Six. She always kept it real with me and that’s why we were best friends.

  “You’re going to die when you see this place,” she said as she retrieved the key from the lockbox on the door handle. “I’m telling you, look no further. This is it.”

  The wide door swung open to reveal a light and airy apartment with floor to ceiling windows.

  “It’s not quite the city view you were wanting,” she said. “Those views are a little, um, out of your price range right now. But if you want a nice floor plan with decent space and modern fixtures, this is it. This fits your budget. And there hasn’t been a unit for sale in this building in, like, five years.”

  Everything from the hand scraped walnut floors to the white cabinetries, silver hardware, and Carrera marble counters screamed my name. It was exactly what I wanted for our penthouse once upon a time: simple, modern, and elegant. Simon had promised me I could lead the remodeling project, but he ended up vetoing all of my design decisions and hiring out a professional who turned our place into something reminiscent of a modern art museum. Everything was white, cool and plastic.

  “I love it, Tay,” I said as I ran my fingers along the island counter. “It feels like home already.”

  “I know you so well,” Taylor said as she patted herself on the back. “Thanks for not making us look at a hundred places.”

  “Thanks for knowing what I want,” I replied.

  “Do you even want to see the rest?” she asked. “The master bath is to die for, Hadley.”

  Her nude heels clicked on the wood floor as she headed down a hallway on the left, and I followed close behind.

  “You’re not going to find tall ceilings like this in a mid-building unit anywhere else in Manhattan,” she said. “Not at this price point.”

  “I know, I know,” I said as I walked around the space that would soon become my sanctuary. “You’ve already sold me on it.”

  The bathroom was a bit small, especially compared to the acreage that made up my penthouse bathroom, but it was every bit as luxurious. The Roman soaking tub, tiled shower, marble floors, and crystal chandelier were nothing short of perfection.

  “When can I move in?” I asked. The entire unit was empty. “Can I move in tomorrow?”

  Taylor laughed. “Doesn’t work that way. We have to make an offer. It has to get accepted. You have inspections…”

  “We’re making a full-price offer,” I said. “I don’t have time to play games. I know what I want and this is it.”

  I took a deep breath and took in one last view of my surroundings. The next time I set foot in there, I wanted to own the damn place.

  “When do you get your settlement from Simon?” she asked. “If you have the cash, we might be able to do a ten day close.”

  “That’s another thing,” I sighed. “He’s dragging his feet on that. Hopefully soon though. I’ve got Maura on it.”

  Taylor headed towards the door and I reluctantly followed. I didn’t want to leave. Not yet.

  “I’ll be back soon,” I whispered, jokingly, to the apartment.

  I waited in the hall as Taylor messed with the lockbox and secured the place up.

  “I love it to much, Tay,” I sighed and longingly looked at the beautiful white, wooden door with the ornate gold knocker.

  We strutted back down the hallway and towards the elevator where Taylor hit the call button.

  “We can go back to my office and write up the offer,” she said as she checked her phone. “I’ve got an appointment later this afternoon with another client, but we should have time to get everything in motion for you.”

  Taylor Young was one of the youngest, up and coming and highly sought-after realtors in all of Manhattan. Other realtors hated her for her overnight succ
ess. She’d come in hungry and wasted no time building a brand for herself. She was good at what she did and word got around. Her entire business was built on referrals, and she had to turn down new clients all the time because she couldn’t keep up with the demand. I was lucky she squeezed me in when she did. I couldn’t stand living in that little studio any longer than I had to.

  The elevator dinged, and I took a step forward in anticipation of the doors opening. I was prepared to go back to Taylor’s office and write up an offer, but nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see.