by C. E. Hansen
“Thanks, Captain.” Carrie put her cell back into her jacket pocket and crossed to where Dean squatted. “What d’ya got?”
“Her shoes look odd,” he abruptly stated, looking up at Carrie.
“How?”
“They’re twisted and lifted. Like some fucker was trying to steal her boots.”
“Hey. Hey,” Carrie yelled toward the CSI. “Bag and label the boots an’ get ‘em printed.”
A young guy whom Carrie had never seen before walked over to the van pulling his gloves back on. He opened a box containing a roll of large zip top bags. He grabbed two and shoved another into his jacket pocket. He walked back to where the two detectives stood and opening the large bag, carefully pulled the woman’s boots off her feet and placed them into two separate bags. His gaze lingered extra-long on the body of the girl. He took out a sharpie and wrote the case number, the date, time, Jane Doe. He took both bags back to the evidence van and placed the boots in the box with the other evidence taken from the scene then returned.
“Need anything else, Detectives?” He obviously needed to feel necessary.
“Not at the moment,” Carrie responded. “Hey, who the fuck are you?”
“Tom. Tom O’Brien,” the newbie answered, nervous but looking to impress the detectives.
“Well, Tom, we will let you know when we need you.” She paused and looked at her partner, smirking. “It may be a long night, Tom. Go and get yourself coffee.”
Chapter 15
I rearranged my appointments the next day and had Karen open the shop, allowing me to spend the whole morning with Cole. I made us both breakfast; my specialty, eggs Benedict, with home fries, fresh orange and cranberry juice, and, of course, coffee. I made our plates, bringing them into the living room, where we both sat in front of the TV, Cole in black silk pajama pants I bought him yesterday, and me in the matching top, cartoons played in the background.
I tried to wear my happy face on the outside while my heart was breaking inside. I would miss this man who lit my body on fire. I wasn’t sure if I would see him again, and if so, when. We spent the few hours we had together rolling around, tangling the sheets.
Cole received a phone call in the late morning from his pilot with the flight plan filed for their trip back home, back to Colorado. I held onto him for a long time before he left to go back to his hotel to pack, angry at myself for looking so needy. I walked him to the elevator wrapped in my silk robe. He kissed me long and hard, holding me close to him.
“I’ll be back soon. I have things I need to take care of, things to catching up on.” He kissed me softly then turned to step into the waiting elevator. I watched the doors slowly close. Hot tears slid down my cheeks. A sob escaped my chest, and I was grateful the doors had closed before Cole witnessed my raw emotions.
I slowly walked back to my apartment and bent to pick up the newspaper left by the building staff. After walking in, I make sure to lock the door behind me then poured another cup of coffee and sat down at the table. I opened the newspaper, flipping to page six to read the society gossip. My mother was not mentioned, for a change. I got bored quickly and closed the paper. I drained my cup and was about to pour another when I the headline screamed from the front page.
“WOMAN FOUND BRUTALLY MURDERED IN CENTRAL PARK.”
Dear Lord.
She was murdered literally minutes from here. I quickly pushed the paper away as if that would distance me from the heinous act.
I selfishly became more concerned about the emptiness of my apartment. Without Cole my home didn’t feel as warm. Needing a shoulder to cry on, I grabbed my cell and called Michelle. I filled her in on the wonderful time I had with Cole, how perfect everything was. I left out the part that I might be falling for him, but Michelle knew me better than I knew myself. She laughed it off, but I could hear the hesitation in her voice. I was grateful for the diversion as she ranted about her night with Jeff. That took my mind off my loneliness for a while.
I was back at work the following day, going over paperwork I’d neglected. I opened my laptop and fired up QuickBooks.
Time to put my head back in the game.
As I finished payroll the door opened. I looked up and saw Karen standing in front of my desk holding a gorgeous bouquet of stunning white roses. I knew who sent them before opening the card. A tightening in my chest radiated to my core thinking about him. I pulled the card and read it. Missing you. Cole. I raised the card to my mouth and lightly kissed it as though that act could bring him back. Glowing with the memories of our two days together, tears trailed down my face, dropping onto the invoices on my desk.
I was starting to lose my edge, my control. I promised myself after Craig never again, and here I was opening myself to a whole new world of hurt.
I did an internet search, “Cole Grayson, Denver Colorado.” The search provided pages and pages of articles and pictures.
Grayson Industries, Inc.—Investment properties. A highly successful property acquisitions firm, located in downtown Denver, with offices in San Francisco, Chicago and Palm Springs. Cole Grayson, CEO, 29-year-old billionaire...WOW.
I found many negative articles about Grayson Industries, Inc. and its CEO regarding the hostile nature of the acquisitions of companies in financial difficulty. “Ruthless” was used more than a few times. I knew he had a need for power and control, but I would never have pegged him as coldblooded.
I also found articles regarding his philanthropic work...that looked promising. I scrolled down article looking to see if I knew anyone who associated with him or his company. Then I saw the pictures. Dozens of pictures—all with him sporting a gorgeous woman on his arm. Big surprise there. I’m sure he’s used to snapping his fingers, and like that, a willing partner would appear.
The one picture that caught my eye was of him with an absolutely stunning brunette. She had gold, almond shaped eyes. She was tall, slender but curvy. She had her arm hooked possessively into his, looking very much like the cat that caught the canary. The green monster popped her ugly head out.
I scrolled further down to see Cole pictured with that same woman; this time he was wearing a tuxedo, his hand on her lower back, and she wore a stunning gold sparkling gown that matched the color of her eyes. Nice choice, bitch. There was that ugly monster again. This time she gut punched me from the inside. Ugh.
The caption underneath made the monster totally take over. “Billionaire Cole Grayson and his lovely fiancée, socialite Lauren Buckley, attending the benefit for the Denver Center of Performing Arts. The event was held at the Governor’s Residence at Boettcher Mansion…” I looked at the elegant long manicured fingers holding the clutch and saw the diamond on her finger. What the hell? The date of the event was just four months ago. I started searching her name. Sure enough plenty of articles mentioned the engagement and none stated it was over. DAMN HIM.
My heart sank. It was like a physical blow. I shut the laptop and looked for my cell on the desk. I was going to call him but I held off; I needed to think this through. What was I going to ask him? Was I just a quick fuck? Classy, Grace. Grow up. Men do to women what you do to men. Turn around is fair play. Get over yourself, and go find your pride. Stop gushing over this guy. He may beautiful, but you are in a city crawling with gorgeous men all vying to please you, so snap the hell out of it.
I copied and pasted the article, picture and all, and emailed it to Cole. In the subject line I wrote, “Had a great time. It was fun. Don’t worry…I have no intention of telling LB. No response required.”
I pushed send. It was childish I know. I should have just called and asked him straight out why he didn’t tell me. He was gone for just three days and I was feeling used.
I heard a buzzing sound. I looked down to find my cell phone ringing. Cole. That was fast. Guess I got his attention. I pushed the decline button on my cell and lifted the cordless from its base and dialed Michelle. “We are going out tonight, Shelle. I won’t be an asshole sitting around waiting for
an explanation. Fuck this shit.” I told her to call Gwen and Sophia.
I pictured Michelle rolling her eyes. “Sounds good to me. It’s Wednesday. Let’s go to Quest and then Slow Pete’s”.
“Oooh, a woman after my own heart.” I will get this guy out of my head. “I’ll have the car pick you up at eight; be ready.” I thought for a second then added, “Wear the blue dress I got you, you’ll look hot in that.”
“Will do.”
We ended up have a wonderful time that night. It was fun to have the girls together again. It was also a miracle we were all in a good mood, and no one was catty. The dinner was excellent, the club was totally rocking. My feet were so tired from all the dancing I walked into the building barefoot, carrying my shoes, and gave Michelle a hug goodnight. I fell asleep that night totally exhausted.
The next morning when I was in my office I searched the internet and viola. It worked like a charm; the paparazzi were there with us last night in numbers, as I knew they would be, since I called my old publicist and told her to have a couple of cameras handy. Let him see me in the news tripping the light fantistique with gorgeous men. At least I never pretended to be something I’m not.
Chapter 16
Cole was pacing the floor in his office, his shoes a steady tempo of staccato alternating with muffled steps as he first crossed the floor then vintage area rugs. His monitors strategically placed on the walls flashed stock quotes and news channels. Three doors down the hall, in his opulent conference room, sat the sellers of 412 2 Avenue, New York City. He had flown the group as his guests for a weekend in Colorado, wined and dined them. They were presently sitting in there waiting to reject his first offer. Cole knew how the game was played. Real Estate Acquisitions were his forte. It was how he built his empire.
The sellers would patiently wait for him to raise his offer and reject that as well. Cole stared mindlessly out the window, looking down on the City of Denver as the work day was begun. He crossed to his desk and sat down. He began drumming his fingers on the desk. Instead of strategizing the pending acquisition, he sat like a forlorn lovesick teenager, unsettled by an email he received three days ago from Grace.
He laughed to himself, shaking his head. This feeling, this agitation, was new to him, his lack of self-control infuriating. He typically enjoyed women, enjoyed being in their company, enjoyed their bodies. Cole prided himself on his attentiveness. Always courteous and kind, seeing to their needs. He was unable to give any more of himself. He was shut down emotionally. Cole had no intention of settling down or raising a family, it was not in his DNA. It would be unfair to lead a woman on, so he dispelled them of any notions of a future with him right away; he would never lie to them.
Then why in God’s name was he feeling this tension?
Grace. It was plain, obvious even. She was different, unlike any other woman he’d ever met. Aside from her astounding beauty and drop dead body that never quit, something there confused him. At times he would look at her and for the briefest moment, a look would cross her face. Clearly, she was as damaged as he was. She was also reluctant to enter into any relationship. It stunned him how easy it was to be with her, how comfortable, and that was something he’d never experienced before. If he were honest with himself, he would admit to feeling unsettled when he wasn’t with her.
The thought of another man putting his hand on her angered him beyond explanation. Somehow, for reasons unknown to him, with her everything was different. She reminded him of himself in so many ways it both scared and excited him. He wanted to be with her, on all levels. Hitting the desk with both hands he quickly stood up. Right now he knew one thing. He had to get his head in the game to close on the New York City property. Business first. There would be time later to think about his relationship. Time later to set things right with Grace. He’d make her understand his relationship with Lauren was over and done with. Fact was there never was any relationship.
Needing to pressure the sellers, Cole was about to make them an offer they would not want to refuse. The newly constructed building was perfect for his needs, but other interested parties abounded. It didn’t hurt he’d be near Grace. ENOUGH!
The sellers were seated in the conference room. He knew they were impressed with Cole the man; now he would impress them even more with his money. A sense of urgency overwrote his good sense. Cole abruptly walked into the conference room. The group of three men and two women, Knickerbocker Properties, Inc., co-owners of 412 2 Avenue, looked up when Cole entered the room. They were chomping at the bit to hear the offer they had no intention of taking. The game was about to begin; they’d string him along, wait him out, playing one interested party against the other to their own financial benefit. They smelled blood and were in a position of power knowing Grayson Industries wanted their property.
Cole took his seat, looking each person directly in the eye. He made his proposal.
“Well, gentlemen”—he turned his head—“ladies, I gave you my best offer. It’s on the table. I obtained all the necessary information I need, and you’ve have all the information you will be getting from me. The ball is in your court. I will leave you in the capable hands of my staff to finalize the details if you decide to take my offer.” Cole stood and confidently turned to his assistant. “Sandra, take over. I’ve got a phone call I need to make.”
The Sellers stared at him, unable to believe what they heard. Cole looked once again at them, a trace of a smile curling his lips.
“So that we are clear, this is my only and final offer.” He stood and walked out of the conference room.
“Yes, Mr. Grayson,” Sandra replied after him. She turned her attention to her co-workers and the Sellers. “All right, let’s see if we can finish this up and get to that amazing-looking lunch.”
The group turned their attention to Sandra, speechless—they all nodded. They had received an offer that far exceeded the value of the property, and they simultaneously released a huff of pent up air. The tension lifted, and the spokesman for the group announced they were ready and would indeed be signing the offer. Sandra smiled.
Now, that was something you didn’t see every day. Cole turned down the hall toward his office. He sat at his desk and tapped the keyboard; the screen snapped to life. Cole opened the internet browser and typed “Grace Preston,” the beautiful golden goddess with an appetite for sex matched only by his own. She drove him mad with want for her. He felt her absence, especially at night. The two nights she’d slept in his arms, his nightmares had abated. Of course, it was a pleasure having her gorgeous body molded to his when he awoke. The monitors flashed on, images of Grace covering each inch.
Pictures of her and her friends partying and dancing three nights ago fed his agitation. There were men, a lot of men, crowding her. Surrounding her. The gold dress she wore revealed too much cleavage, hugging her body in all the right places. The places he didn’t want anyone but himself seeing. Her shoes screamed fuck me. Cole felt he was about to lose his mind. His hands opened and closed with his frustration. He hardened looking at her pictures.
This is ridiculous. I’m a grown man.
He his chest burned as he moved the mouse quickly over the images. One picture opened on top of the previous and continued to until his screen was blanketed with pictures of Grace, smiling, dancing, flirting. Cole had to get back to New York. What he was feeling was something he had never experienced before. It pained him to realize he was the worst thing for her now; he had far too many demons, but something about being with her caused his demons to retreat.
He had just rationalized his decision.
He tapped a few strokes on the keyboard and several articles along with pictures came to life. “Ultra beautiful Grace Preston steps out onto the red carpet for MOMA benefit.” “Ex-model Grace Preston gracing the Ronald McDonald House benefit at the Waldorf Astoria.” He closed his laptop and pushed a button on his phone. Jenna spoke.
“Yes, Mr. Grayson?”
“Jenna, come in here please
.”
“Yes, Mr. Grayson.” Jenna, Cole’s secretary, quickly walked to the door and after lightly tapping entered.
“Jenna, call Captain Richards. Have him file a flight plan to New York City. I’d like to take off within the hour,” Cole said without looking up from his desk. He gathered his papers and the large folder with the pertinent information for the New York City building acquisition, and shoved them into his briefcase. “Also, call ahead to the Asbury and advise them of my arrival. I’ll be there for four nights.”
“Yes, Mr. Grayson.”
Jenna walked back to her desk and called Captain Richards, then the Asbury as Cole instructed.
Sandra popped her head into his office. “It’s done, and done. They all signed off. I’ll scan and email you a complete copy of all signed documents.”
“Thank you, Sandra.”
Sandra laughed and shook her head, backing out.
Cole called Grace, this time leaving a message when she didn’t answer.
“I’ll be arriving in New York in approximately three hours, ten your time. You got my attention, Grace. Now I want yours.” Cole paused. “I need to see you. I’ll be at the Asbury.”
He took the elevator to his apartment located on the top floor of the Grayson Industries Building. The elevator door closed behind him as he crossed the massive living room and walked down the hall to his bedroom. He grabbed the leather duffle out of his closet and packed a few items. Then walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He packed his toiletry bag, leaving it on the counter. After brushing his teeth, he walked into the shower.
He put on a pair of worn jeans and selected a white denim shirt. Grabbing his duffle, he shoved his toiletry bag inside and put on his jacket. Walking back into the living room he looked up to see Dannie, his housekeeper, standing in the kitchen.