by Liv Morris
When we hit the open air, Hayes extends his arm and stops me before I walk to the car. He’s looking all around, his face as serious as shit. Hell, he’s one scary motherfucker. I suppose that’s a good trait in a bodyguard, but he looks like he eats small children for breakfast.
“Hold up.” He commands and I comply. I’m tall at six foot three, but I’m not about to cross him. “When we are outside, I need you to follow my lead. Actually, it might be good to do so at all times.”
He has no idea how hard it is for me to follow anyone or their orders. Well anyone expect Kathryn. I’d follow that woman and her sweet ass anywhere.
“Okay,” I say through gritted teeth.
Finally, we’re in the company car and heading to my office building in mid-town. I pull out my phone and it’s officially dead now, with nothing registering on the black screen.
“Eddie, do you have a spare charger?” He passes one to the backseat and I swiftly plug in my phone. I’m desperate to see my beauty’s photo while we weave through Manhattan traffic. It takes an excruciating amount of time, but finally my phone comes back to life and her image displays before me, perfectly casual with an alluring smile. The sight of her makes me want to tell Eddie to turn the car around and head back to her place. But once again, I have a billion-dollar business waiting for me, not to mention families across the globe tied to the company’s success. At least I have a portable version of Kathryn with me.
We arrive at my building, and Eddie pulls up to the secured underground entrance. It’s guarded and only accessible after obtaining clearance from the on-site attendant. I’m sure my bodyguard loves the tight security. It’s totally impenetrable as far as Simon’s concerned.
Hayes instructs Eddie where he wants us to be dropped off. I frown thinking Hayes has become my new sidekick. At least I can make him stand outside the doors of my office for some privacy. I don’t do well with anyone breathing down my neck.
I lean my head back as the car descends the ramp into the building’s underground area. I fear it’s going to be a long-ass day since I can’t seem to get Kathryn off my mind. All my thoughts keep meandering back to her.
Hayes and I arrive at my office suite right before ten thirty, and I see Peters perched on Mrs. Carter’s desk. They’re interacting casually, and Peters seems to be very familiar with her as he leans over the desk. I cough as we approach and watch them jump apart at the sound.
Good God, Peters is flirting with her. Could he have the hots for Mrs. Carter? They’re both divorced and alone. I wonder how long this attraction between them has been going on. Maybe I just didn’t notice it before.
“Good morning, Mrs. Carter,” I say congenially while scowling at Peters. He, after all, has hired this ginormous shadow stalking me everywhere and is now making moves on my assistant.
“Peters, come with me.” I raise my arm and motion for him to follow me into my office. “And Goliath, you can wait outside here.”
I swear Hayes smiles at my nickname. “I hope that tag doesn’t offend you.”
“Believe me, sir, I’ve heard worse.” He laughs. Who knew this scary fucker had a sense of humor? Maybe I’ll survive his hovering over me after all.
“Good, as no offense was meant.” I walk with purpose into my office, throwing off my suit coat on a couch. I need to change out of yesterday’s suit immediately.
“Have a seat, Peters, while I change,” I say to him as I walk into the private bedroom I have off my suite. I’ve only used the space to catch up on a few hours sleep when I’ve had to stay and work overnight. My office is off limits to extracurricular activities with women. Well, except for Kathryn, of course.
Yes, I’d break the “no sex at work rule” with her in a heartbeat. As I change, I imagine her arriving at my office in a stylish coat, locking the door behind her, and discarding the coat on the floor as she makes her way to my desk. And of course she has nothing on underneath. I zip up my slacks and laugh at my already growing erection. I hope I’ll see her tonight; otherwise, I’m going to have a struggle on my hands, literally.
Back at my desk, with my work face firmly in place, Peters goes through a litany of security requirements he’s placing on my life. No social activities: too public and accessible. No dining out: too many people for Goliath to watch over.
Until there is confirmation on Simon’s suspected whereabouts, I’m a prisoner with two places as my jail cell. My office and my penthouse.
I agree to Peters terms and happily wish him farewell as he leaves. No doubt stopping at Mrs. Carter’s desk on the way out.
Scores of issues were sent to me via email. I work through lunch trying to put out fire after fire. Mrs. Carter has to walk to the deli across the street for my favorite pastrami sandwich. Goliath said no deliveries were allowed. She was nice and included him in the order. I suppose it’s better to feed the beast.
Lost in a problem overseas at one of our software manufacturing plants in China, I’m startled when Mrs. Carter buzzes me over the intercom.
“Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Kingsley, but Mr. Peters is on the phone for you. He says it’s important.” I sigh deeply and reach for the button on the phone so I can answer her.
“Thanks.” My answer is short, as I was knee deep in the problem and hate being disturbed.
“What’s up, Peters?”
“The police detective needs to move his appointment with you back until the end of the day. Around five thirty or so. Will that be a problem?” he says like I have a choice. Personally, I’ve always deferred to those wearing a badge, and I’m not about to cross them now.
“Yes. Let my attorneys know.”
“Will do. I’m at your apartment and working on the security here. I think I’m on the management’s shit list.” He laughs, and I find no humor in his reaction. I’m of a mind to slam the damn phone down in his ear.
“Do what you must.” I end the call and get back to work after emailing Mrs. Carter about the change. I ask her to pass the information on to Hayes, too.
The afternoon hours breeze by as I work. At five, I come up for a little air and give Kathryn a quick call before the detective arrives. I want, no strike that—I need to hear her voice. It’s amazing how much this woman has gotten under my skin in just three days. However, the last few days have felt more like a month in time with so many fucked-up things being thrown at me.
“Hello?” She answers my call, but I hear hesitancy in her voice.
“Hey, beautiful. It’s Adam.”
“Oh, I didn’t know who it was. How’s your day been? Slain any giants today?”
“Haven’t slain any giants, but I do have one as a bodyguard. Dude’s probably six eight and three hundred pounds. Scary mother.”
She’s laughing and giggling at me. I smile at the sweet sound. It’s one of my favorite things about her.
“Well, I’m glad you’ve got protection. I don’t want anything happening to you.” I do love hearing that she may care for me and want me around for a while.
“Is that so?”
“Yes, I have plans for you,” she responds seductively, making me wonder what she has in mind.
“I like the sound of that.” My mind wanders back to this morning. I close my eyes and see her riding atop me again, ecstasy on her beautiful face. “Hopefully, I can see you tonight. I have to get my bodyguard settled into my place after I leave work.”
“I’m meeting a friend for happy hour and should be finished by seven.”
“Is this friend someone I know?” I ask for details in a roundabout way, hoping she will tell me this friend isn’t male. I hate feeling jealous, but shit I’m jealous as hell thinking I might have to share her with another man.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I can see her smirk over the phone. “It’s an old friend from my childhood. He’s flown in from San Francisco.”
My blood begins to boil as I rise out of my chair to stand. I begin pacing the floor behind my desk. I don’t want her meeting any man, old f
riend or not. But what can I say, I don’t have a claim on her yet, but I sure fucking want one.
“So this friend, an old flame?” I can’t help myself and ask for more details on this man and what he is or was to her.
She’s giggling into the phone. “More like my gay best friend.”
Oh, that’s a big relief, and I have to laugh at myself. The whole boyfriend thing is a new experience for me. And so far, I’m failing miserably at it.
“Is it bad that I’m happy he’s not interested in you that way?”
“No, it’s rather sweet. And I don’t think I’d like you having drinks with a woman tonight, either.” She seems a bit terse, but as silly as it sounds, I’m thrilled she would be jealous, too.
The intercom buzzes on my desk. I know what it means. I have to go and prepare for the detective’s questioning.
“Hold on, beautiful,” I say while covering the receiver and pushing the intercom button.
“Yes, Mrs. Carter?”
“Sir, Mr. MacDonald’s here.”
“Okay, send him in.”
I return to Kathryn. “I have to go, but keep tonight open for me. Please?”
“Same goes for you.”
I end the call with a shit-eating grin on my face. MacDonald enters my office and looks at me in surprise; maybe shock is a better term, as I’m not my normal impassive self today.
“Who blew sunshine up your ass, Adam? You have a smile as big as Texas on your face. What gives?” MacDonald appears stunned to see me in such a jovial mood. I should deflect my Kathryn-induced high, but I have no desire to even attempt it. This is one high I don’t want to come down from.
Chapter 18
NYPD Detectives Harold Baker and Jason Simpson sit across from my attorneys and me at the wooden conference table in my office. The room is completely silent except for Baker rustling through the folders in his hand. He’s scattering paper left and right in front of him. He sets downs an 8x10 printed photo, and even though the image is upside down, I instantly make out who it is: Simon. The dark hair and tight smile are a dead giveaway. The same photo was used on the news last night.
Was it only last night? So much has happened in my life, the days feel more like weeks.
Baker shifts in his seat, preparing to speak. It appears he’s the lead detective as Simpson assists him while they prep for the interview. I turn to MacDonald and Marcus Rhodes, my newly hired personal attorney, with a cocked brow and see that they, too, are amused with the display of disorganization from the detectives.
“My apologies, gentlemen.” Baker looks up from his paper shuffling to address us. I can tell he’s a bit flustered, though I have no idea what would cause such confusion.
“We’ve had some loose ends to tie up in this case. All of them surrounding motive.”
Motive? The word sparks my interest, and I lean forward, hoping Baker will disclose more to us.
“Mr. Kingsley, I know you’re a busy man.” I watch as he scans around my large office suite. I know it seems opulent, and likely double the size of the average apartment in Manhattan, but I make no excuses for its grandeur. I’ve worked impossibly hard over the last ten years, and my office’s size and scope reflect my success. “So I won’t keep you long. After all, it’s late in the day on a Friday, and a young man like yourself has to have plans for the night. Perhaps a lady friend waiting for you?”
A man like yourself? A lady friend? What the fuck does he mean by that? I don’t care for the tone of this interview already, and the smirk on the detective’s face is getting under my skin. I find no humor in the circumstances surrounding Simon’s threat on my life and nearly ending Tom’s. The detective should conduct himself more professionally. What have I done to deserve this type of treatment? Shouldn’t he be on my side?
“Detective, I am a busy man, and any remarks about my social life are not helping us find my former partner any faster. The way I live my life is not the issue here.” Baker smirks at me even more, if that’s possible. I can’t figure out why this man is showing such contempt for me. “But please continue, you have my undivided attention.”
With a smug expression on his face, Baker folds his hands on the table while giving me a shrewd look. I wish he’d just get on with the interview and skip the dramatics.
“As I said, we, Detective Henley and myself, have been working on a possible motive today. We conducted a thorough search of Mr. Edwards’ apartment. Quite a grand place, by the way, but he didn’t leave much of a trail for us. He took all of his computer equipment, but we found this in his office. Actually, it’s a photo of the evidence we found there.”
Evidence? Baker produces a sheet of paper out of the pile in front of him. He looks it over carefully and passes it to me across the table. I reach my hand out as the paper glides toward me.
Righting it, I see a photo of myself. It’s my official photo given to media outlets. I’m posing formally with my arms crossed over my chest. The picture was taken in my office with me standing behind my desk. It was meant to make me look commanding, but what’s drawn on my face takes any of that thought away. An unmistakable bull’s-eye is printed over my face, marking me like a target from a firing range. To say this photo is unsettling would be an understatement; it clearly shows Simon’s hatred for me.
“We know he was fired from your company two days ago, or left to pursue other interests. I believe that’s the more corporate way of putting it.” He stops and laughs at himself. The other detective joins in with a slight chuckle. It’s a dueling pair of comedians.
“Get on with it, gentlemen.” I say as these two are really starting to piss me off. I can feel my temper starting to flare.
“Or course, initially we believed he acted out of revenge for your company firing him. However, we interviewed his ex-fiancée today, and a new development took us down another road, so to speak.”
“What kind of development?” Why do I feel like Baker wants a pound of flesh from me? I’m the injured—or least the endangered—party in this matter. The road he’s leading me down makes me wonder what he found out from the ex-fiancée. My side of the table remains silent for now.
“Here’s a photo of Marta Llewellyn, Mr. Edwards’ ex-fiancée
.” Again we do the shuffle and pass with the photo. I take the photo in my hand and see a stunning woman. Straight blond hair hanging down to her breasts. The dress she’s wearing is cut dangerously low, exposing what appear to be a pair of large surgically enhanced breasts. Glancing back up to her face, her brown eyes have a scheming nature to them. After dealing with so many women, I’ve learned to be leery of that look, as it usually spells trouble.
“I’ve never met Ms. Llewellyn,” I remark after viewing the photo and sitting it aside. “What does she have to do with Simon going crazy?”
“Are you sure you’ve never met her?” Baker asks with a definite gotcha attitude, like he’s trying to outsmart me. This man totally has it out for me. There is no disguising it now. I glance at my attorneys, who both have puzzled looks on their faces.
“No, I’ve never met her before,” I say emphatically.
“You have a home in the Hamptons, correct?” Baker already knows the answer to his question; it’s public information. Any detective worth his salt would know this fact.
“You know I do,” I say with in a snap back at Baker. I feel the hand of Rhodes, my attorney, on my arm, giving me a subtle but unmistakable hint to keep my shit together. I turn to Rhodes and convey a look meant to tell him I’ll control my temper.
“Well, Ms. Llewellyn remembers meeting you. About a year ago, last June, to be more precise. There was a Parrish Art Museum benefit at a large estate in the Hamptons that you both attended. I’ve confirmed with the museum’s benefit committee that both of you were in attendance at the event.”
“I said I have no recollection of ever meeting her. I may have been there; I’m a major contributor to Parrish. I also have a house in the Hamptons. During the season, I’m out at there
often. I usually attend two similar events per weekend.”
“She had this photo of the two of you.” Baker quickly hands me another photo. I gaze at the image, still not familiar with the woman. Rhodes seizes the photo from me.
“Detective Baker, I think you’ve made your point clear on the facts of my client and this woman being at the same event. Could you please get to the point of this discussion?” Rhodes speaks with an air of superiority and confidence.
“The long and the short of it?” Baker looks at us from his side of the table, his shoulders pushed back, his back ramrod straight. “Your client, Mr. Kingsley, allegedly took this woman home for the night, or I should say for an hour or so, after the event. Then he proceeded to, as Ms. Llewellyn explained it, ‘fuck her brains out in his study’.”
What the hell? I recall fucking many women in my study in the Hamptons last summer, but not a single face or body stands out to me. So what the detective is proclaiming could be true.
“Ms. Llewellyn said she believes Mr. Kingsley and she had some kind connection that night. One that was never fully explored since she left shortly after the act, due to Mr. Kingsley needing to take a conference call.” Baker is definitely mocking me and poking fun at my excuse to get the woman out of my house. “Supposedly, she snapped these photos of your bathroom before your driver took her home.”
Rhodes takes the photo from Baker and places it on the table in front of me. I see my guest bathroom, the one closest to my study. The details are still hazy, but there’s no denying it now. I nod to Rhodes in confirmation that it is indeed as the detective says.
Baker rubs his fingers across his chin. His attitude toward me remains condescending, but under the circumstances, what is my defense? “Ms. Llewellyn appears to have been hell-bent on meeting Mr. Kingsley again. So much so that she lured Mr. Edwards into a relationship in hopes of getting close to Mr. Kingsley.”
“She appears to be obsessed with Mr. Kingsley. When a dinner date with Mr. Kingsley, her then-fiancée, Edwards, and herself didn’t happen, she’d had enough and broke off the engagement. Vowing to meet Mr. Kingsley some other way.”