Womanizer Heir (The Heirs Book 4)

by Brandy Munroe

  I reached for the remote and looked up at the TV that was blaring a special news report. There on the screen the news anchor was asking the camera man to zoom in on an accident. I tuned up the volume and watched the horrific scene play out.

  A crumpled sports car. Mangled around a tree.

  My subconscious must have been playing tricks with my mind, listening to the newscast while I was half asleep on the couch. That would explain the dream.

  I was about to turn the TV off. I needed a shower to revive me before I headed to the clinic.

  That was when I saw it.

  When I saw him.

  In the corner of the screen was a small picture of someone I used to know.

  I sat and listened with great interest.

  “The car behind me at the scene of what could have been a tragic accident was confirmed to belong to Theophilus Bentley, son of communications tycoon Dominic Bentley.”

  My mind was racing, oh god, Theo, please be ok. I was not sure how much of the broadcast I missed in my tormented haze before the droning voice of the announcer registered.

  “Yes, Kathy, that’s right. Well wishes from fans across the world started coming in when people realized that Theophilus Bentley is none other than the world famous drummer T-Bent from the hard rock band Get Bend. It’s said Mr. Bentley was on his way home after the last concert of their world tour.”

  I watched as the split screen showed an anchorwoman in a studio asking questions to the announcer on the screen.

  “No, Kathy. The whereabouts of which hospital Mr. Bentley had been taken to has not been made public. The family is thanking all of Mr. Bentley’s supporters and fans. They are requesting privacy at this time.”

  I turned the TV off. I needed to get in the shower and get ready for work. I wouldn’t allow myself to go back to the day that changed my life. I needed to move forward.

  I wasted six months after the accident feeling sorry for myself. I was finally pulled out of my depression, with the help of my current friends and mentor Derrick.

  Next came six months of rehabilitation.

  Now with another year under my belt and my demons sequestered, I had a bright future waiting for me.

  With my clinical hours completed, all I had to do was write the test and pass the boards to become a fully licensed physical therapist.

  It wasn’t my original dream, but all my dreams changed that day.

  Sometimes I had a hard time believing how much my life had changed in the last two years. I no longer lived in the sketchy suburbs of New York.

  Settling in the smaller community of Tranquility was easier than I first believed. It was a small town situated between New York and Boston. Far enough to avoid big city problems, but large enough to compete in the international market.

  Tranquility had four points of access. It was on the eastern shore and boasted a large maritime port. The railway ran south of the city through the industrial park. You could literally live on the wrong side of the tracks. A small private airport catered to the rich who had cottages along the ocean. All this combined with a major highway made Tranquility a prime location for international companies.

  Companies like Bentley Communications.

  I’d also learned not to dwell on what could have been and focus on the here and now. And right now, I needed to get my ass in gear and get to work.

  Once I situated myself in my seat on the bus, I put my earphones in and turned on my iPod. It drowned out the random sounds and allowed me to read through my text book.

  Derrick constantly teased me about being over-prepared for the test I needed to pass in order to move forward in the next stage of my career.

  He wasn’t as understanding as I’d hoped about the trouble I had with my short term memory. Another side effect of the accident. I could remember with absolute clarity everything that happened up until the accident.

  It was everything that happened afterwards that caused a challenge. I got into the habit of taking pictures on my phone of new people I’d met that were supposed to be important. I wrote how and why I was supposed to know them.

  Once they were ingrained into my new defective memory, I could delete them from my files.

  The bus ride was a long trek but worth the hour it took me to get to the clinic. My psychologist told me it was not healthy for me to avoid driving. I was still holding on to a deep rooted fear from the accident.

  Maybe one day.

  After seeing Theo’s car wrapped around a tree this morning, today was not that day.

  The clinic where I currently apprenticed was part of a consortium of health care services. It housed a plastic surgery unit, a specialize burn unit, a research lab and the physical therapy unit. That was where I had done my recovery and now my studies.

  It was all thanks to Derrick.

  He started showing up at the recovery hospice I was assigned to once I no longer needed hospitalization. He was the inspiration for my idea of snapping pictures instead of letting myself get frustrated when my memory malfunctioned.

  I tried to do research on the clinic when Derrick offered to get me in as a patient. There was very little I could find on the internet. The only information I got was what Derrick himself told me.

  He persuaded me to let him bring my case to the board and arranged for me to meet with a team for an assessment. He believed that I would meet the criteria for being accepted as a patient. He told me all the expenses would be covered.

  The clinic ran mostly on private donations. Because of the specialized care they provided, research grants were also awarded. I didn’t know what category I fell into.

  All I had to do was allow them to use my information for research and case studies.

  Apparently with the type of injuries I sustained, I made the perfect guinea pig for the field he intended to pursue. I didn’t pry as to what exactly was all entailed in that. I was more than happy to received the type of care that the clinic reserved for the rich and famous.

  Another reason I was sure it was built this far out of the Tranquility. Privacy was a top priority.

  I was surprised when I arrived to find a horde of scantily clad women being held back by security. The signs were get well wishes for T-Bent.

  I guess it made sense, Theo’s family being who they were. They would have had him brought to a state of the art facility.

  I pulled out my ID and made my way through the lineup of personnel trying to get past the field of fans hoping to relay their heartfelt messages to the one and only T-Bent.

  “Morning, Sabrina.” Jacob waved me past without looking at the lanyard hanging around my neck. I’d been a staple at this facility for the past year and a half — first coming in every day for therapy, then doing my apprenticeship once I decided this was what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I wanted to give to others what Derrick had given me.

  A sense of self. The ability to be self-reliant. The strength to get up everyday and put one foot in front of other. Not simply physical strength, but mentally and spiritually.

  He helped me renew my faith in God. My faith in myself.

  I knew Nicole would have approved of our friendship.

  As I headed towards the therapy unit, I decided to take the scenic route. I had never had the need to wander through the clinic. Today, I had a reason. I wasn’t going to intrude. I only wanted to know if he was ok.

  I knew instantly which room was his. Brad, one the security guards, was manning the hallway outside the door.

  “Hey, Brad,” I called as I approached.

  “Oh come on, Sabrina, not you too?” He seemed unimpressed with my presence.

  “What are you talking about?” I had a pretty good idea what had him aflutter.

  “Why do you think the floor is inundated with staff today? Even the ones who are supposed to be off? Don’t make me have to tell you no. You know I love you but…”

  I cut him off.

  “No, I’m not going to ask you to break any rules for me, Brad
, and let me see him.” I took a sneak peek at our surroundings, verifying no one was eavesdropping before I continued.

  “I know you’re not a doctor, and I don’t want you to get into any trouble, but can you at least tell me if Theo is… ok.” I didn’t want to use word alive. Obviously, if he was here in a room and not on a slab in the morgue, he was alive.

  Brad cocked his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. I knew I put him in a precarious position. I hated using our friendship for my own personal gain, but I needed to know.

  “Theo, hmm, not T-Bent?” He smiled widely, making his dimples pop. Brad had used those dimples to try to impress me when I started coming into the clinic. Unfortunately for him, only one man’s dimples had ever melted my panties.

  And that man was laying in bed ten feet away.

  “Yeah, I knew him when he was just plain Theo, so to answer the question you’re not going to ask, no, I am not a groupie or fan girl trying to steal his shit and sell it on eBay.”

  We both got a good chuckle out of that one.

  He leaned closer to my ear.

  “You didn't hear it from me. Your boy Theo is badly bruised. From what I overheard he’s not critical. Is that enough for you?” He gave me a peck on the cheek and I noticed we were being watched.

  He wanted the nurses to think I came to see him. I was ok with that. I gave him a slight nod of appreciation and hugged him in return.

  It was time I headed to the therapy unit.

  Up to that point we had kept our conversation hushed. I decided to play into his scheme to let the staff think I came searching for him.

  “O’Malley’s, six o’clock,” I loudly announced and tossed him a wink. “I owe you a beer.”

  He didn’t have the chance to answer.

  “Brin, is that you?”

  I froze. Oh shit. He was awake and he’d heard me.

  Suddenly, a pair of dancing grey eyes and a set of dimples were facing me.

  Yup, those dimples still melted my panties.

  How the hell do I get out of talking to him?

  Rock God Heir: Chapter 2

  Theo

  I expected to wake up with the stabbing pain I experienced when I was put in the ambulance. After my initial assessment, the paramedics assured me that they had not observed any life-threatening injuries.

  They asked if I had any allergies before administering pain medication.

  The next thing I remembered was waking up to a room full of doctors and my brother Nate standing in the corner of the room looking like he had not slept in days.

  “How long was I out?” I croaked, my throat feeling raw and dry.

  “You’re awake, good.” I assumed the guy in the white lab coat talking to me was the doctor in charge.

  “How are you feeling, Mr. Bentley?” His morose stare had me wondering if there was something I should be wary of.

  “I feel a little numb, actually. I was expecting to be in more pain.” My brain was fuzzy from what I assumed was something to help me deal with the trauma.

  “The painkillers you received will wear off in a bit. We gave you a mild sedative when you arrived to help you sleep.”

  The doctor pulled a pen light out of his jacket and flashed it in my eyes. “Your family is waiting to see you. Do you want to visit with them before we discuss the depth of your injuries?”

  He was very clinical. So much for bedside manner.

  “Tell me, doc, am I dying?” Nate’s glowering told me he did not find me amusing. “Is that why you're asking? Does my family need to say their last goodbyes?” I meant for it to come out humorous, honestly.

  “No, Mr. Bentley, your injuries are not life threatening,” he deadpanned.

  “Good, then call me, Theo. My father is Mr. Bentley.” I pushed myself into a sitting position against the pillow. “I’m sure my family is worried so yes, I would like to see them, please.” I nodded to Nate standing in the corner.

  “Very well,” the doc nodded. “Call me when you’re ready to discuss the severity of your injuries and your next course of action to start you on your recovery.”

  “Sure thing, doc,” I gave him a two finger salute as he left the room.

  Nate stepped out with the doctor, I watched my family enter: Mom, followed by my little sister Anita, my sister-in-law Carrie, and then Nate again.

  I wasn’t surprised to not see my father come through the door. Hell, I was shocked to see that Nate took time away from his precious company to stand around while I slept.

  Like the doc said, my injuries were not life threatening. I would have expected him to leave the minute he knew I wasn't on death’s door.

  My sister’s eyes were red and swollen from crying. I hated seeing my sister upset. My mother was stoic and solid. If she was upset, she’d never let it show. Neither would Carrie or Nate. No, my sister and I were the ones in our family who wore our hearts on our sleeves.

  “I’m happy to see you’re awake,” my mother commented. She leaned over the bed and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead like she used to when I was a kid.

  I knew my mother could be reserved. I also knew she loved me.

  I might have been twenty-eight years old, but I was still her baby boy. She often accused me of having Peter Pan syndrome and never wanting to grow up.

  She might be right.

  “How long have I been out, the doctor never told me?” I wondered how long it had been since I saw my life flash before my eyes until I woke up, realizing it was not over yet.

  “Not long,” Nate answered. “The accident happened around midnight and the response time was quick.” He looked at his Rolex, “It’s almost seven now.”

  “Shit, I’ve been out all day?” Mild sedative my ass.

  “No idiot,” Anita sniffled, “it’s seven am. You’ve only been out a few hours.”

  “A few hours?”

  I was relieved. If I had only been out such a short time, then the doctor must be right. My injuries were not significant and I would back up to snuff in no time.

  Nate checked his watch again. “I’m going to go home and shower then head into work. I’ll stop by tonight, if you want?” He looked over at me.

  I tried to decipher if he wanted me to confirm I would like his company or deny his request, letting him off the hook of having to entertain me. I knew he would much rather be at home entertaining his wife.

  Since I was a selfish bastard I smirked, “Yeah, stop by, I would really appreciate that, Nate.”

  He took Carrie’s hand and pulled her out into the hallway. She returned a few seconds later with a slight smile on her face.

  Anita leaned over and kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear. “I’m really happy you’re going to be ok, T. You’re the only one who understands me.”

  I took her hand and gave it a light squeeze. “And you’re the only one who understands me,” I answered her.

  It was our secret promise long ago. I promised I would always take her side, even if I believed she was wrong. When she was old enough to understand what that promise meant, she made the same one to me.

  “Now, when can I get sprung from this prison?” I was feeling restless laying in this bed. I wanted to go home and recuperate on my terms.

  “Not so fast,” Carrie interjected. “Let’s call the doctor in and discuss what our next steps should be.”

  Good ole Carrie. The peacemaker of the family and one hell of a lawyer. Nate was a lucky bastard. I hope he realized that and treated Carrie like a princess. I’d always given him a hard time about not being so uptight and showing a little more PDA.

  Mom gestured to Anita that they should get going. I agreed. There was no sense in everyone sitting around waiting for the doctor. I was confident he was going to discharge me, anyway. I didn’t feel any residual pain from the accident.

  Of course, that was probably because of the meds.

  I expected to be a little sore tomorrow from bruising and such. It was nothing I couldn’t handle.

&
nbsp; Carrie went out into the hallway and returned with the doctor not long after.

  She sat by my side and took my hand. “I’d like to stay, if that’s ok?” she asked.

  If the doctor felt I needed family support, something told me I was not going to be thrilled with his assessment of the situation.

  “Mr. Bentley,” he began.

  “Theo,” I reminded him.

  “Theo, you were very lucky that the injuries you sustained were not as severe as they could have been, given they had to cut you out with the jaws of life.” He flipped his chart and continued.

  “The impact was forceful enough to cause the seat belt to break. Your left shoulder took the majority of the hit once the airbags deployed.”

  He pulled out some x-rays and hung them on a lighted stand. He circled an area on the screen with some magic pen.

  “This is my area of concern. As you can see, there is extreme tearing of the tissue around the muscle.”

  He circled another area on the x-ray.

  “I’m also concerned about stretched ligaments and deep muscle damage.”

  I was left stunned. The doctor’s words replayed over and over in my head. Extreme tearing. Pulled ligaments. Deep muscle damage.

  “The best treatment at this time would be surgery to repair the worst of the damage. I would recommend physical therapy immediately.” He looked at me, waiting for confirmation I understood what he explaining.

  He cleared his throat. “Theo, the best case scenario is after extensive physical therapy you should regain eighty percent mobility in your left shoulder.”

  “Worst case scenario, doc.” He looked at Carrie which irritated me. “No point in sugar coating it now. What happens if when you get in there and the damage is bad?”

  “If we are unable to repair the damage,” he hesitated. “Even with physical therapy, you’re looking at fifty percent mobility.”

  If I thought his bedside manner was lacking before, his next statement really put him in the bastard category.

  “Even if everything goes off without complications, there’s a very good chance you will never be able to play the drums professionally. The repetitiveness would re-injure the weakened area and cause permanent damage, even paralysis.”