Dirty Rich Obsession

by Lisa Renee Jones

  Grayson Bennett’s beachfront property is a complex, sprawling property that somehow manages to be understated with a wood finish and numerous steeple tops. Reid and I start up the front steps, and I’m aware of his hand resting on my back, hyper-aware of his touch, as well as that secret and promise between us. I’m also aware of the confidence that he has in my ability to impress Grayson. That’s pressure, not from him alone, but from myself as well. I want to impress Grayson and I mentally shove aside that call with my father, and all the questions and emotions it clearly has stirred.

  “Just do you,” Reid says, reaching out to ring the bell, only to have the door open before he even presses the button.

  A slender woman in a navy-blue pantsuit, with raven hair and blue eyes, appears in the doorway. “Welcome, Reid and Carrie,” she says. “I’m Leslie, the household manager, which is a fancy way of saying that I’m Grayson’s godmother. I look out for the house while he’s gone, and him while he’s here. As I will the two of you tonight.” She smiles and steps back, waving her hand in our direction. “Come in.”

  This warm greeting has an unexpectedly intimate feeling and I find Leslie quite charming. Reid’s fingers flex on my back, urging me forward first, and I step ahead of him to enter the open-concept foyer distinguished by a table to the right and a chandelier above. The entrance opens wide into a beautiful room with dark gray floors, high ceilings, and dangling elegant lights. And of course, as would be expected, there’s a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, and a fireplace, that together frame a living area that’s a mix of gray and cream furnishings.

  Reid steps to my side, and while he doesn’t touch me this time, I have this sense of possessiveness in him, like he’s ready to stake a claim, a contrast to anything he’s made me feel about this meeting up until this moment. I don’t understand why he would feel this, and perhaps it’s simply protectiveness, but whatever the case, it’s fierce, radiating off him and crashing into me. I want to ask him, to understand, but Leslie is quickly in front of us. “Grayson is on the back patio,” she says, motioning us forward as she leads the way.

  Reid leans in close and whispers his prior words. “Just do you.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to just do you? Are you going to be an asshole?”

  His lips curve and he winks. “You know it, baby.”

  I laugh, and somehow that exchange eases my tension, and his too, I think. We both settle into the challenge before us and start walking, following a path along the edge of the sleekly decorated kitchen of gray marble and the living area, to an exit with a glass door. Beyond it, a cozy, enclosed patio complete with a fireplace and a view of the ocean greets us. Immediately to our left is a square table for four where Grayson sits, his dark hair wavy and thick, his goatee neatly trimmed.

  He stands upon our approach, towering a good bit over six feet tall by my estimates, his attire of black jeans and a simple black T-shirt, as unassuming as everything about this encounter thus far. “Reid,” he greets, and the two men exchange a firm handshake before Grayson’s intense, deep green eyes land heavily on me, an assessment in their depths. “Nice to meet you, Carrie.”

  “Nice to meet you as well,” I say, “and thank you for the invitation to your lovely home.”

  “I’m pleased to have you here,” he says. “And what better way to get to know each other than in private, and outside a formal setting.” He motions to the chair beside him. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  Reid holds out my chair and I sit down before the men join me, Reid to my left, and Grayson to my right. “We have lasagna for dinner,” Leslie announces, joining us. “But I can accommodate any special needs or requests.”

  “Lasagna sounds wonderful,” I say quickly.

  “My first home-cooked meal in years,” Reid adds.

  “That’s too long,” she says, scoffing in disapproval. “And no better meal than Grayson’s mother’s lasagna to fix that problem. Ann might be gone, but she keeps our bellies full.” She glances at Grayson and then quickly changes the topic. “What can I get everyone to drink? We have about every choice you might wish for: wine, brandy, scotch. The list goes on.”

  I glance at Grayson’s glass of wine. “I would say I’ll try what you’re having, but I’m afraid that in an effort to not take advantage of your hospitality, I don’t want to choose something outrageously expensive.”

  He laughs. “I’m actually drinking an excellent hundred-dollar bottle of pinot I found while in Sonoma.” He fills my empty glass with the bottle sitting in the center of the table. “The most expensive wines are like all things in life, not always the best and I have a lot of money because I don’t throw away what I have.” He glances at Reid. “I believe we share this trait.”

  “Indeed,” Reid agrees. “We do, and a few others we might not brag about quite as readily.”

  “Are you an asshole too?” I ask Grayson.

  Grayson laughs. “I can be, but I’m more selective about when and where than Reid.”

  “Would you like a glass of pinot as well, Reid?” Leslie asks, still hovering to await his choice.

  “Scotch on the rocks for me,” Reid replies. “The most expensive option you have. He owes me ten grand.”

  Grayson eyes Leslie. “Bring him the bottle and we’ll call it even.”

  I want to ask about the debt between them, but Leslie disappears inside, while Grayson refocuses on us, already leading us elsewhere, on Reid specifically. “I see she’s not afraid to call you on your shit, Reid.”

  “She most certainly is not,” Reid replies, “but she made that statement loud and clear from the moment I met her.”

  “How did that go?” Grayson asks, looking at me. “He fired your father. That was brutal. You must have hated him.”

  “I was angry,” I agree, feeling honesty to be my best path with Grayson. “I actually hated Reid quite a lot.”

  “And yet, here you are by his side,” he comments, watching me closely.

  “She worked her anger out of her system,” Reid replies for me.

  “And without regret,” I say, glancing in his direction. “You deserved what you got.”

  “Is that right?” Reid challenges, his lips quirking, and that spark between us flares, impossible to hide, impossible to deny, and I’m certain Grayson will notice. Thankfully, Leslie reappears, and I hope breaks up the connection enough to downplay it to Grayson though I know Reid says it doesn’t matter. My gut says it might.

  She sets a bottle of whiskey on the table as well as a glass of ice. Reid glances at the bottle. “That’s five thousand. You still owe me another five.”

  I see another opening to ask about their debt, and when Leslie walks away, I intend to take it, but once again Grayson steals my thunder, and this time in a big way. He leans forward and speaks to Reid. “You’re fucking her. Is that why I’m supposed to believe in her?”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Carrie

  “Apparently you are a bigger asshole than Reid,” I say, reacting to Grayson’s crude question, which he hasn’t even bothered to direct at me, considering it’s about me. “He believes in me because—”

  “She bested me right out of the gate,” Reid finishes for me. “She beat me when no one beats me.”

  Grayson sits back and looks at me. “Now I’m intrigued. How did you best him?”

  “Without blinking,” I say, not about to tell the story. “I beat him and walked away without blinking. He came to me afterward and you’re still an asshole.”

  “How did you best him?” he presses.

  Reid answers. “She bought me at a charity bachelor auction and then cuffed me to a couch in the hotel room and left me there. And, for the record, wholly unsatisfied.”

  I’m stunned that Reid has told this story that most would feel make him look bad. Grayson narrows his eyes at me and I pick up my wine, taking a long swallow before saying, “It’s good. Really good. Dry and woodsy.”

  “You did that?” he asks, i
gnoring my wine commentary.

  “Yes. I did do that.”

  “What did you think you would gain?” he asks.

  “I wanted to remind an asshole that he was human.”

  He laughs. “Priceless.”

  “Exactly,” Reid says, his gaze catching mine. “She is. She’s fearless, but smart.” He looks at Grayson. “And those two traits are hard to find.”

  “As is the ability to put aside ego and get over the cuffs,” I say of Reid, but my focus is on Grayson. “I can’t believe he just told you that story.”

  “The food is here!” Leslie announces, her timing less than perfect, but she’s unstoppable, as is the interruption. Soon we all have plates in front of us, and I cave to the moment, inhaling the spicy scent of the wonderful food. We all take a bite and various satisfied sounds lift around the table. “How spoiled is Grayson to have you here to cook,” I say, dabbing my mouth with a napkin. “This is the kind of special meal that money can’t buy. It’s love. Family. Home.”

  “It is,” Leslie says, glowing with the compliment. “I keep hoping Grayson will marry and build those things for himself, but he’s all business.”

  “I wish the same for you, Leslie,” Grayson says, “and perhaps if you’d stop worrying about me, you’d find them.”

  She purses her lips. “Another argument for another day.” She waves her hands at us. “Enjoy,” she says, and then walks away.

  I lift my fork again and I find Grayson’s attention on me. “What do you know of family and love?” he asks.

  “My father and I have our version,” I say easily. “His place is home to me.”

  “And yet you’re dating Reid, the man who took his company.”

  “He made bad decisions, Grayson. I knew he was making them. I couldn’t stop it from happening.”

  “Tell me about it,” he says, lifting his fork.

  Reid’s phone rings and he grabs it from his jacket and grimaces. “I have to take this.” He doesn’t apologize to Grayson. He simply states a fact and looks at me. “The DA. I’ll be right back.” He stands up and walks away, entering the house, but not before I hear, “The ink’s dry, Mr. District Attorney, but if you’re calling to offer an added cash bonus to the families of the victims, we’ll take it.” And just like that, he’s inside the house, and I’m alone with Grayson, and the impact of that vulnerability isn’t as forceful as I expect. He’s really an easy personality, his intensity more in his cunning than his force.

  “He negotiated the settlement for the families of that serial killer that was in the city,” I say. “He donated his fees.”

  He arches a brow. “Did he?”

  “He did.”

  He changes the subject. “What does your father think about what you’re doing with West Enterprises?”

  “He knows this is important to me.”

  “And will he reinsert himself into the business?” he asks.

  “No. He’s moved on and I want it that way.”

  “And he’s okay with you taking over his creation?” he presses. “That seems like it would be hard for him.”

  “Yes. It will be, but for now, he doesn’t think it’s real. He thinks Reid is scamming me.”

  He doesn’t blink. “Does he know you’re seeing Reid personally?”

  “No,” I say and this time I don’t blink. “And I’d rather he not, which is an easy achievement since he’s presently chasing a land deal in Montana.”

  “Montana?”

  “Yes. Montana, and no, I would not be taking your money to Montana.”

  Grayson glances at Reid through the window, shares a look with him, and then refocuses on me. “Do you think Reid is scamming you?”

  “No,” I say without hesitation.

  “Do you want to know what I think?” he asks.

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Why does that feel like a trick question?” I ask because it does. And if it’s not a trick, it’s a test that I do not want to fail, and yet, I do want to know his answer. Perhaps too much.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Carrie

  I don’t know why I want this man’s opinion of Reid. I don’t, actually. He momentarily drew me into the web he cast, and I know why. It’s not his charm, good looks, money or power. It’s not about him at all. It’s about Reid, all Reid. I’m falling hard for him. I feel vulnerable where he’s concerned, exposed, but that’s on me, that’s personal. This conversation is not, nor was my decision to stay on board at the company under Reid’s supervision, personal. And so I set the personal aside, and focus on what matters here and now.

  “To suggest that Reid is scamming me is suggesting a lack of confidence in my skills and leadership,” I say. “Those things are not lacking. You have to decide if you’re willing to gamble on me, I understand, but ask me questions about those things, not about my agreement with Reid.”

  “He needs you to get me. Did you know that?”

  “I do,” I say. “He told me you don’t like his past history with Jean Claude.”

  Surprise flickers in his eyes. “Did he now?”

  “He did.”

  “Are you comfortable with that association?”

  “I am. He’s not. He told me about his past with Jean Claude and his shift from then to now.”

  “You believe that shift is real?”

  “I think my recent transition from following my father to becoming my own person makes me understand it well. So, yes. I believe that shift in Reid is real.” I think of his mother’s letter to his sister. “For reasons beyond what I’m willing to share with you. Why does Reid’s past with Jean Claude matter this much to you? Reid is good at what he does.”

  “Agreed, but how he gets there matters to me because he takes me with him if I’m in business with him.”

  “As he does me. If I felt he cheated my father, or anyone else, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “There are many that feel differently about Reid.”

  “Are you going to tell me that you’ve become this wealthy without pissing off one single person? Is there no one out there that would say you betrayed them to succeed?”

  His eyes sharpen, darken. “Who have you betrayed?”

  “Myself.”

  He arches a brow again. “Meaning what?”

  “I knew when my father was making bad decisions, but I let him convince me I was wrong and he was right. I didn’t stay true to my instincts.”

  “And that should instill confidence in me why?” he asks.

  “I’m honest. I don’t make excuses. My gut feelings are right.”

  “And you consider Reid honest?”

  I don’t like the way he keeps pushing against Reid. “What do you want to say to me?”

  “The two of you are not alike.”

  “If we were then you’d only need one of us, but you don’t know me.”

  “I know enough,” he says.

  “Enough to do business with me?” I ask, taking an opportunity where I find it.

  His lips quirk. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You should do business with me.”

  “Yes, you should,” Reid says, crossing the patio to reclaim his seat. “Why aren’t we eating?”

  “Why indeed?” Grayson asks, picking up his fork he’d abandoned, as had I, during our talk. “We should eat and enjoy the company.”

  “Everything okay?” I ask of Reid’s call.

  “All is well,” he says, and there is a hint of warmth in his eyes at my question, an intimacy between us that I no longer try to hide from Grayson. He knows we’re together. I’ll own it. We will own it.

  We all dig into our food and the mood shifts. Grayson seems to settle into our company and conversation, these two powerful, handsome, confident, and yes, arrogant, men talking stocks and the financial market, which isn’t my cup of tea, but they make it interesting. They make me want to know more. These two savvy minds often collide in debate, and in the process, both men intrigue me. The topics vary only slightly, but
they stay focused on financial gains, and I use this time to try to size up Grayson who is thoughtful in his communication rather than dogmatic, asking questions, listening. I have a sense that there is a cunning hardness beneath his surface, but he tames it, using it when and how he sees fit while Reid remains himself: direct, hard, cautious, but informative. I like this about Reid.

  Much later, we’ve finished our meal, and have moved to a circular lounge area around the fire, our glasses graciously refilled by Leslie, and the conversation remains casual. Grayson actually tells us the history of the mansion, which he inherited from his father, right along with the law firm his father founded. “And your mother?” I ask. “Was she involved in the firm?”

  “No,” he says. “She was a teacher, and an angel on earth gone too soon. She left me five years before my father.”

  Left him.

  I cling to those words that feel more like they belong to my story, as my mother did, in fact, leave, thinking they tell a story that helps me work with him. I’m about to dig for more information, but he’s now refocused on Reid. “How’s your father? He had a stroke a while back, correct?”

  Reid’s expression is implacable, but I can feel the shift in his mood, the tension radiating off of him. “He did,” Reid confirms, “and he’s no less a bastard now than he was before if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “It does take a real bastard to work with Jean Claude,” Grayson replies dryly.

  “Are you referencing me or my father?” Reid asks.

  “You raided right along with them,” Grayson reminds him, apparently unwilling to let go of the Jean Claude situation.

  “I trained beneath my father,” Reid says, and as if he heard my earlier conversation with Grayson, he adds, “I cultivated my own self and I get it. He hits all the wrong nerves with you, but I’m not him.”

  “He breaks people.”

  “He makes money,” Reid says.

  “He made you a lot of money.”

  “And now,” Reid says, “thanks to that money, I have the ability to make cautious, thoughtful choices about what I do and with who.”

  “And Carrie is one of those choices?”