by Lulu Pratt
“Are you stealing from me?” He finally asks, but his words are too soft to be true. I can sense he just wants to continue this interaction, and he seems to be the type of person who would react much more hostile if he truly believed I was attempting to take something from him.
“Are you kidding me?” I scoff.
“I’m just saying, why are you upstairs, wandering around a clearly empty wing of my home when you see the party is elsewhere?” He stresses the words my home just like an arrogant man of wealth in LA.
“Do you want to search me?” I challenge, slamming my clutch purse on an end table behind him before holding my arms out to my side.
To my surprise, he decides to take me up on my offer, stepping so close I can see the shine on his mouth after his tongue glides across his lips. I can smell the cologne on him when he moves, a delicious aroma with rosewood undertones. His hands slide from my wrist, up my forearm, and an electric current rushes through me from the connection. His skin is soft, and his hands move with a sense of confidence, just like everything else about him.
There’s not a word between us, but from the way his lips part, as the cool minty breath escapes him, I can tell he’s attracted to me. And if my eyes are as revealing as they usually are, he can tell I’m seconds away from jumping him.
“Are you satisfied?” I smirk, but he doesn’t answer.
Instead, with his eyes locked on mine, he runs the palm of his hand down my chest, splitting my breasts as my body silently pleads with him to go further. My pelvis is tightening with anticipation, while his hand stalls on my belly.
“I think you’re clear,” he whispers, our faces too close for standard tones.
Dropping my arms in disappointment, I smile at him. However, before I can come up with a response, my phone vibrates in my hand, and I glance down to see a text message from Petra.
Come outside now!
“I’ve gotta go!” I blurt out before taking off down the stairs as fast as possible. Petra has been known to get thrown out of events after a couple of drinks, and the last thing I need is for her to forget about me, leaving me stranded.
“What’s your name?” I hear him yell from behind me, but I simply look over my shoulder, taking in his gorgeous face one last time. A look of confusion clouds his blue eyes, and I can’t blame him.
I know I’m darting out of the party like a lunatic, after wandering into the restricted area of his house, but at that moment I’ve got bigger fish to fry.
Just when I make it outside, I see Johnny getting out of Petra’s Mercedes as she anxiously waits to get in. When our eyes lock, she waves me on with a sense of urgency that prompts me to race down the front lawn in my stilettos.
“What the hell happened?” I ask, out of breath as I settle into the passenger seat.
“That party was dead. Let’s go to the club,” Petra sighs while scanning her rearview mirror before taking off down the narrow street.
“Are you serious?” I ask in disbelief. I thought she was in some sort of trouble the way she rushed me, but the truth is I’m more annoyed that I leave that mystery man a second before I had to.
“Trust me. You’ll never see any of them again. The place was filled with pretentious bastards. I wish we’d never gone,” she says with a roll of her eyes, and something tells me it’s deeper than she’s letting on.
Her insecurity about not being in the upper echelons of LA society has led to several embarrassing showdowns for her, and I decide not to press the issue any further in case that happened tonight.
“We’re going to Icon,” Petra announces after a long pause.
The ride is short, but without the usual blaring music it feels awkwardly long. My thoughts drift back to the man at the party, and I find my thighs squeezing together as I recall his hands sliding down my body.
There was something about him that was so enticing. I’ve never felt so captivated in someone’s presence before, but now I can’t shake the feeling. Staring out the window as the bright lights of Hollywood pass, I remind myself that we’re from totally different worlds.
He lives in the Hollywood Hills, for Christ’s sake. Next door to celebrities, overlooking the city from a vantage point people like me could only dream of. He had to be in the entertainment industry with a face like that, but I don’t recognize him.
“We won’t be long in here,” Petra disrupts my thoughts as she pulls to the valet parking stand.
Icon is a large club, which means she knows someone working in every section of the place. After a brief conversation with a guy at the valet stand, we walk to the crowd of girls in skimpy dresses surrounding the bouncer, who is trying his best to not care about all the attention.
“Trevor!” Petra yells, throwing her hands up as the group of girls turn to acknowledge the woman responsible for putting a trace of a smile on the bouncer’s stone face.
“Petra! How are you, gorgeous?” He smirks, reaching down to lift the velvet rope so that we can both walk through. There are snickers of both curiosity and jealousy as we make our way into the club.
“Let’s get drinks,” Petra whispers in my ear as the deafening music kicks in, making it all but impossible for us to communicate any longer. I nod before following her to the bar.
Of course, she knows a few of the bartenders and they clamor to get her what she wants. For all the trouble I give her, I can’t deny how connected she is. She knows everyone, and going out with her is like being with a celebrity.
We knock back our drinks and watch the people on the dance floor.
“I’ll be back,” I hear her whisper, but by the time I turn to ask where she’s going, all I can see is the back of her red dress as she slithers through the thick crowd.
Turning back to the bar, I look at my now empty drink with annoyance. There’s no way I’m waiting for her to return to order another drink from her friends. So, although it’s against her rules, I decide to pay for my cosmo myself.
It’s then I realize I’m not carrying my leather clutch any longer. My thoughts scramble, trying to retrace my steps. Did I leave it in Petra’s car? The idea is unlikely, but all I can hope for. If not, it’s most likely on the lawn of that mansion, and Lord knows I don’t need another run in with that God of a man.
Shit!
Chapter 3
Logan
“Ava Batcher.”
Her name rolls off my tongue while my fingers move around the edge of her driver’s license. It’s almost as seductive as she was.
In her rush to leave, Ava forgot her little purse, and I couldn’t stop myself from opening it. To my surprise, she barely had anything inside. A driver’s license, lip gloss, some gum and some cash.
Her scent still lingers in the air as I look down the staircase, hoping she might return. I’ve never had a woman less impressed with me, let alone that eager to get away.
I could sense she was attracted to me from the way her breathing picked up every time I got closer. It was obvious she wanted me, but somehow, she found it easy to get away without so much as my name.
I’d spent much of my adult life searching for polite ways to tell women to get the hell out of my house, and now I’m racking my brain for an acceptable way to barge back into Ava’s life without looking like a creep.
Something about her was just so innocent. The way she looked at me, submitting all power and control. She was mine without question. Just recalling the moment we shared makes my cock rise. She was sexy, but not in the typical way girls are.
It had nothing to do with how she dressed, or even what she said, it was just her. Everything about her was alluring, and now I can’t even see myself going back into my own party without her.
The contents of her purse are a clear indication she’s not from my world, because you couldn’t make it an hour in my life with eighty dollars. Where the hell did she plan to go with that? The thought makes me chuckle.
Here I am, alone at the top of my staircase, as hundreds of people party below me
for a charity I’ve agreed to host, while I’m stuck thinking of a cute young girl who decided to wander through my weekend home.
“Logan!” Jenn yelps, screeching around the corner from the level below me. I can see the panic on her face, but my attention instantly shifts to Rodrick who is closely following behind her.
“Mr. Draper, we need to talk,” Rodrick says. He is always serious, but his tone is even more urgent now. My brows furrow watching the two of them, as Jenn looks up the stairs with a worried expression.
“What’s going on?”
Jenn has been my assistant since I was twenty-two, and for the past decade she’s seen me through more scandals than I can count, so I doubt it can be as serious as she thinks.
Struggling to mentally scroll through all the women I’ve been with this month, I wonder who could be making a scene at the party. Jenn works close with every member of my team, but my publicist is the one who usually causes her so much stress.
“Mr. Draper, we need to go to the security room,” Rodrick says, wiping the smirk from my face.
While Jenn handles all the careless backlash the media throws my way for being a bachelor, Rodrick is the head of my security, protecting me from the real threats. Usually cool headed and nonchalant, his flushed face makes my stomach drop.
“Cut the panic. What the fuck is going on?” I demand. My tone causes both of them to pause on the steps as they exchange a look before Rodrick begins.
“There’s been a breach, sir,” Rodrick’s voice is low, embarrassed. And he should be. I pay him enough to make sure I’m secure from these bloodsuckers, even on a party night.
“Where?” I ask through clenched teeth, scowling at each of them from the three stairs that separate us.
“The east wing,” Jenn whispers.
My heart leaps, I am wrestling to remain composed, when all I want to do is yell. The only things in the east wing of this home belong to my late grandmother. It’s practically a storage unit of everything I have of hers. Who on earth would want to steal from an old lady’s things?
“We can discuss it in the office,” Rodrick reasons, his face back to its usual stoic expression.
“Well, we do need a walk through the party at least,” Jenn adds softly.
There’s no way I can refuse to take photos and shake hands at my own event, despite the security breach.
“All right,” I nod before closing the distance between the three of us. Walking to Jenn, she turns just in time for me to give Rodrick an order without her hearing.
“Meet me in the office in thirty minutes,” I order and he nods. “And I need to know everything on her,” I hand him Ava’s license and small purse before following Jenn down the steps.
“Consider it done,” I hear Rodrick say behind me as I straighten my tie before reaching the landing.
The front door is just in sight as guests wander through, their heads swiveling to take in as much of my home in as short a time as possible. Hosting events is a part of the upper class of LA, but it doesn’t mean I enjoy it.
“How long?” I sneer as Jenn scrolls through her phone frantically.
“Just ten minutes, Logan,” she glances up before returning her attention to never-ending emails.
Her ten-minute request quickly turns into twenty, as I shake hands and pose for pictures. Jenn has worked with my publicist and event planner to throw another successful party, but my thoughts are split between Ava and the security breach.
In a way, I don’t want to hear what Rodrick has to say about either. I’d rather pretend that nothing was stolen, and Ava is as innocent as I want to remember. In reality, I know it’s more likely that someone made off with all my grandmother’s jewelry, and Ava is some has-been from the porn industry, sent here to get info on me.
In this life, everyone wants something from me. It’s best when it’s just money, because I’ve got more than enough of that to go around. But sometimes people want more, and that’s when it gets difficult.
“Great. You did great. Do you want to go see Rodrick now?” Jenn says lowly, gripping my forearm.
“Does he know who it was?” I question her nonchalantly, so that anyone looking on or taking pictures will think I’m asking her what time it is.
“Not sure,” she answers with a smile, playing along with my tone.
“All right, text me if you need me,” I tell her before walking off.
The lights and noise fade as I make my way to the private area of the home. I can hear the security team in their office before I turn the corner to their hallway. Rodrick is lecturing them about the breach, but it’s nothing compared to what they’re about to get from me.
“So, who’s getting fired today?” I yell entering their quarters. Small monitors playing live footage from over two dozen vantage points cover the walls, as the team all look at me with fear in their eyes.
“Mr. Draper,” Rodrick acknowledges my presence, while stepping back to make room for me to enter the office.
“Honestly, I think I’d better understand this on a regular night. You know, who would be expecting that? But during a party? Are you not supposed to be fucking prepared? Who dropped the ball?”
“Mr. Draper,” Rodrick tries to calm me.
“No, Rodrick. I want to know which one of your men was assigned to the east wing,” I look at the men once again.
“I was,” a thin guy stands up from a chair near the far corner. He looks to be no older than twenty.
“Oh yeah? And what happened? I don’t see any bruises on you,” I raise my hands in confusion as he crumbles before my eyes, his shoulders slumping and his posture sinking.
“I got a call on the radio to come to the front door,” he raises his hands, pleading for me to believe him, but I don’t.
“Who called him?” I question the entire room, just to prove the obvious. No one called him and there was no reason for him to leave his post.
“Mr. Draper, there’s a missing walkie from our equipment,” Rodrick adds quietly behind me.
“Cool. You should figure that out,” I look back before returning my attention to the skinny man before me, “And you, umm, what’s your name?” I ask.
“Me? Oh, Carter,” he looks up, mustering all the bravery he can manage,
“Carter? Okay. Carter, you’re fired. Everyone get out. I need to talk to Rodrick.”
The men all seem eager to leave, except for Carter. He looks stuck in space as his eyes redden and glass over. I don’t care. He can play his whole skit out, I know he was working with someone to take advantage of me, like every other slimy leech. I pay an entire security team for what? To get robbed? Hell no.
“Here you are,” Rodrick says when we’re finally alone, extending his hand to give me a manila folder.
Taking a deep breath, I prepare to see the person brave enough to steal from me, but the wind catches in my throat when I see Ava’s beautiful face staring back at me. It’s the file on her I asked Rodrick to retrieve.
“It was… she didn’t…” I find it impossible to even speak the full sentence, but I need to know she had nothing to do with the burglary.
“Oh, no sir. She never even made it to the east wing. She barely saw any parts of the house according to the footage,” he assures me. “She actually spent most of her time here looking at your artwork.”
My hands turn the pages of the report, as my eyes widen in disbelief. She is as innocent as I suspected. She’s apparently a life coach, with her own practice in West Hollywood. I can’t help but shake my head when I see she’s from just outside Bakersfield. It doesn’t get more out of the loop than that.
“What about the theft?” I ask, clapping the folder closed. I can research Ava later, but for now, I need to know what was taken from me.
“Well, we’re trying to make sure we’ve recovered everything now, before reporting prematurely,” Rodrick stalls.
“What’s missing?”
“A brooch, sir,” he answers lowly.
Thos
e were her favorite accessories. My grandmother would wear them every day, and knowing someone had the audacity to steal one from her, regardless if she’s no longer here to protect herself, makes my stomach turn.
“I want to know who did this within forty-eight hours, Rodrick, and I want them prosecuted to the highest degree,” I spit the words out, disgusted the breach in security.
“Yes, sir,” he answers as I walk out of his office.
“And I want the brooch back,” I grunt over my shoulder before slamming his office door closed behind me.
Chapter 4
Ava
“How do you see yourself actualizing that, Amy?” I push my client to dig a bit deeper about her goals to become a published writer.
“I keep getting sidetracked,” she sighs in exasperation, running her fingers through her blonde bangs.
“Well, let’s break it down into small steps,” I motion to the notebook she brings to every session.
Together, over the course of the next forty minutes, we create a plan for Amy to write her first novel in the next six months. The look of accomplishment on her face is all I need to make my day better, and it’s been a rough one.
As she packs her things, I close my notes, tucking them into my desk drawer before walking Amy to the lobby, assuring her we will pick up back right where we’ve left off at her next session.
A deep sigh of relief causes me to lean against my office door once I return. My day has been anything but smooth, and I’m looking forward to a night out with Petra to relax and blow off steam.
I’ve gone over the story a million times in my head, and there’s no way I could have left my purse anywhere at that mansion party, although I’d love a reason to bump into that handsome man again. Our interaction has replayed in my mind more times than I can count, especially as I was laying in bed last night, but I’ve continued to shut it down, hoping not to overcomplicate things.
My phone dings, disturbing my thoughts, and I return to my desk to check the message.
