Intense: A Dark Billionaire Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  Feelings are involved now, though. I can’t say what they are or what they mean, but they’re there and I can’t stop them.

  The day wears on and soon it’s around five. Normally, Jenkins is very prompt with my dinner, but today something is different. He brings it at five on the dot, which is way too early for me, but I haven’t really complained. Today though, it’s five thirty and there’s still nothing.

  I shrug and figure maybe he’s finally figuring out that five is too early for a healthy young lady like myself.

  Around five forty-five, Jenkins appears knocking at the door. He hustles the dinner cart inside, looking stressed and worried. I stand up and head toward him.

  “Evening,” he says. “Your dinner is served.”

  “Wait,” I say as he turns to leave. “Is everything okay?”

  He cocks his head at me. “I think you know all about that already,” he says with such vile scorn that it really surprises me.

  “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

  “Your little Syndicate is downstairs talking with Mr. Locks right now. And you pretend like you don’t know. I know you text them every day.” He makes a face like he smells shit.

  But my head is spinning too much to pay attention to that. “Wait, The Syndicate is talking with him?” I ask. “Why would that happen?”

  He narrows his eyes. “You don’t know?”

  “I have no clue.” I step toward him. “You have to let me down there. I have to see Ethan.”

  He considers for a moment then shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Absolutely not. You’ve been enough trouble already.”

  “Jenkins, please,” I plead. “I can’t stay up here. I didn’t know they were coming and that can’t be good. Let me down there.”

  “No,” he says, and turns to leave again.

  I leap forward and take his hand. He rears back, shocked, his face a mask of disgust and outrage.

  “Please,” I say again. “You have to let me go down.”

  “No, and kindly never touch me again.” He turns and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  I stare at the shut door, shocked and terrified.

  The Syndicate said they’d never make contact with Ethan unless they absolutely had to. That was only meant to be a last and worst-case scenario. They’re supposed to discreetly check up on me and act invisible.

  But if they’re here, something is wrong, something is very wrong. I can’t just stay in this room. I have to go down there.

  I take a deep breath and then open the door, heading out into the hall. I march toward the stairs and head down, not slowing, and not taking no for an answer.

  I’ll have a say in this, whatever it is. I can’t let this real thing slip through my fingers, not now, not when it’s so close.

  21

  Ethan

  Lucille from The Syndicate sits across from me on the sofa, her back very straight. She sips from the cup of tea that Jenkins brought us on a tray.

  Jenkins disappeared soon after I came back. I had to remind him to take dinner up to Aria, mostly just to get him out of the room. I don’t want him listening in on this conversation.

  “I’m sorry to come here like this, Mr. Locks,” she says.

  “Please, call me Ethan.” I frown at her. “I assume there’s a problem.”

  She nods slowly. “There is a problem, Ethan. I’m very sorry about all this.”

  “I don’t know what you’re apologizing for yet.”

  She looks a little uncomfortable, but she’s hiding it well. Clearly she’s used to dealing with this sort of thing, but whatever she has to say she doesn’t like.

  “It’s an, ah, unusual situation,” she says. “We don’t typically sell the girls for more than a couple weeks. One month is a long time.”

  I shrug. “You agreed at the time.”

  “You offered a lot of money.”

  “And you took my money.” I lean toward her. “Are you regretting it?”

  “Yes, we are,” she says. “Truth is, we shouldn’t have sold you Aria for a month. You’re a new client. There’s normally some kind of short-term trial period.”

  I cross my arms and watch her for a moment, trying to read her. She looks back impassively, and I get the sense that she’s not telling me the full truth. They didn’t have any issue selling me Aria at the time when I offered them a lot of money. And there haven’t been any problems up to this point.

  “Have I mistreated her?” I ask. “Has she complained?”

  “No,” Lucille says, shaking her head. “Not at all.”

  “Then you’ll excuse me if I’m trying to figure out what the hell you’re doing here.”

  She looks a little surprised at my forceful tone, which was the point. I want to throw her off balance, make her actually tell me what’s going on here.

  “We want her back, Ethan,” she says. “We’re willing to refund most of your money as compensation.”

  “Fuck the money,” I say.

  She frowns but continues. “Aria will be treated well, of course. She’ll get her payment. Maybe not as much as she would have, but still a generous amount. And we’re willing to offer you another girl to finish out your month-long contract at a very agreeable discount.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “So you’re willing to give me another girl, but I can’t have Aria?”

  “That’s right,” she says. “Aria is new as well. She wasn’t prepared for this level of contract.”

  “Aria is fine,” I say. “There’s no reason for you to take her back. We’ll finish the contract as we agreed.”

  “I’m sorry, Ethan. But I’m not allowed to do that.”

  “Listen, Lucille. I don’t know why you’re here. You’re giving me these vague excuses, and none of it adds up. You’re clearly lying, or at least you’re keeping something from me. So until you tell me why I should give her up, we’re done here.”

  I move to stand and she sighs, holding up one hand, her eyes closed. I can tell she’s pained. She’s probably not supposed to tell me the real reason why The Syndicate wants Aria back.

  It’s probably something embarrassing. The fact that Lucille is here at all is a breach of their decorum. They’re normally incredibly discreet and professional and apparently pride themselves on their efficiency. But sending Lucille here to gather up Aria and to break their contract seems like it’s very out of their character.

  “Please, I’ll explain.” She looks at me with a frown on her face. “Please, sit.”

  I slowly sit back down and lean toward her, elbows on my knees. “Go ahead,” I say.

  “It’s her father,” Lucille admits with a sigh. “He found her. We’re not really sure how, but he’s a rich and powerful man in this city. He’s coming after us and we find it’s best if we simply return the girl to her home and move on.”

  “Best for whom?” I ask, anger welling up inside of me.

  “Best for everyone.”

  “Not for her. Not for me.”

  “Please, see reason here. The Syndicate can’t risk exposure. It would be... catastrophic. For everyone involved.”

  Veiled threats and ass covering, that’s all she’s here to do. The bastards want to steal Aria away from me and to return her to her bastard father, the very man that she ran away from in the first place. I can’t imagine that her father actually wants her back, whoever he is.

  There’s something else here, a piece of this puzzle that I can’t see. I don’t know what’s being held back, but I can sense it, just there, just out of my grasp.

  “What’s his name?” I ask Lucille.

  She pauses. “Who?”

  “Her father. Who is he?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  I feel a stab run down my veins. It’s a flash of insight that I only understand at a gut level. The idea isn’t even conscious yet, but I feel my blood turn to ice in my veins. Cold terror runs through me.

  He’s a powerful man... the kind of
man that would come after her if it suits him, not because he wants to... and her last name. I think back to that conversation that night.

  My face drains of color. Lucille looks concerned. “Ethan? Mr. Locks? Are you okay?”

  I grab my cup of tea and drink it down. It’s not strong enough, though. I stand and quickly walk into the kitchen where I pour myself a double whisky and slam it back.

  Lucille follows me, concern clear on her face. “It’s not that bad,” she says. “The Syndicate doesn’t blame you. And her father says he’ll back down if she’s returned.”

  “What’s his name?” I ask her again.

  Taylor. Her last name is Taylor.

  “I can’t say it. Please, don’t ask me again.”

  She was born rich. Her father was an asshole.

  “Say it,” I whisper. “Say his name.” I feel like I’m breaking into a thousand pieces, some angry, some confused, some willing to destroy everything to get what I want.

  “His name is Taylor,” she says. “Richard Taylor.”

  I feel it like a knife to my gut.

  I can’t process this. I can barely think.

  A new voice cuts into my mind

  “Ethan?”

  I look up slowly. Aria is standing in the living room a few feet from Lucille.

  “What’s going on?” Aria asks.

  Jenkins comes in from the back room suddenly, breathless. “I’m sorry, sir. I told her to stay in her room.” He walks quickly toward her.

  “Stop,” I say to Jenkins. “Please leave.”

  He pauses, looks at me, and then nods. He disappears back into the other room.

  Lucille turns toward Aria. “Honey. I’m with The Syndicate. I was sent here to take you home.”

  “Why?” she asks. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No,” she says gently. “You did nothing wrong. Something came up though. And we need to bring you back.”

  “But I don’t want to go,” she says. “I want to finish my contract.” She looks at me, pleading, and I don’t understand.

  “You’ll still have to come with me,” Lucille says.

  “NO.”

  The two women look at me, clearly surprised. I practically shouted it and I look down at the glass in my hand. My knuckles are white.

  “Aria,” I say, getting some control. “Please go back upstairs.”

  “But—“ She starts, but I cut her off.

  “Go,” I say. “Now.”

  She hesitates then turns and quickly walks away. She disappears up the staircase and out of sight.

  Lucille looks back to me. “Mr. Locks, we need her. I can’t leave until she’s ready to go.”

  “Get out,” I say quietly to her.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Get out of my house.” I feel like I’m regaining some control now, though my edges are all frayed.

  “I can’t do that. I don’t think you understand.”

  “I understand,” I growl at her. I walk from behind the counter and move toward her. She backs up, fear on her face at whatever she sees in my expression.

  “You want to give her back to that fucking monster. And the worst part is, he doesn’t give a fuck about her. It’s just one more slap in my face.”

  She tries to protest, but I hold up a hand. She continues to back down the hallway and toward the door.

  “No, don’t argue with me. Richard Taylor is a piece of shit, and he won’t take this away from me. You can go back and tell your Syndicate to go fuck themselves. Aria is mine, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  She stops in front of the door and stares at me, regaining some composure. “You’re making a mistake,” she says.

  “Get out,” I repeat. “You can have her back when our contract is finished.”

  “Very well.” Lucille turns, opens the door, and then leaves.

  I walk back into the kitchen, feeling numb. I pour myself another drink and sip it, standing in front of the sink.

  The world feels like it’s filtering in through a very small keyhole. Dimly I’m aware of things, but they flit and shake through my consciousness, though nothing sticks.

  What is real? How can I ever see the truth now? So much is tangled up in this. Could this have been Richard’s plan from the start?

  Who is Aria Taylor?

  I don’t know what’s the truth and what’s a lie as I feel myself perched on the edge of something. The only things keeping me from tipping over is anger.

  Anger threatens to rip everything else apart. I won’t let Richard win, that fucking bastard. He won’t get the best of me. I won’t let a man like that win.

  I don’t know who she is, but Aria doesn’t deserve it.

  I clench my glass and knock the drink back, mind buzzing.

  22

  Aria

  He doesn’t come that night or the next day. I’m not really surprised, but I don’t understand what happened back there.

  When I walked into the room, he looked at me like I was a total stranger. Like I was a ghost, bursting out of a closet. He was spooked at first.

  And then he was angry. I don’t understand why The Syndicate wanted to take me back. That woman didn’t explain, only said that something came up, whatever that means. But clearly Ethan wasn’t happy about it, whatever it was.

  He refused to let them take me. That makes me happy, a strange sort of happiness. He defied The Syndicate, a very powerful group of people, just to keep me. That has to mean something real is happening between us.

  But the way he looked at me... it sends shivers down my spine. I don’t understand it. What did that woman say to him that made him look at me with suspicion?

  When Jenkins brings my breakfast, he doesn’t say a word to me. I try and ask him questions, but he simply acts like I don’t exist. And when he leaves, I hear a click at the door, and it takes me a few seconds to realize that he locked me in.

  I sit out on the balcony, eating breakfast and trying to figure out what I’m going to do. I can escape any time I want, since it wouldn’t be too hard to climb down the balcony and get to the sidewalk. But I don’t want to leave.

  I want to know why he looked so disgusted with me. Maybe I can explain. Obviously it has to do with why that Syndicate woman was coming to take me back, but beyond that, I can only guess.

  And so I spend the day in anxious worry. I guess that I’m being held captive, since the door is locked, but I don’t feel trapped. I know I can get away any time I want. I just don’t understand why Ethan would want to lock me in here when he knows that I won’t leave if he doesn’t want me to.

  The day drags past. Jenkins brings lunch as usual and again doesn’t say a word to me. He locks the door on his way out, leaving me there to stew in my uncertainty.

  I almost want to cause another scene. Ethan shouldn’t leave me here alone without talking to me, especially after what happened last night. He has to know that I’m worried as hell and afraid that something horrible just happened.

  Instead, I get nothing. The hours wear past until finally, it’s dinnertime, but nothing comes. Five in the afternoon turns to six in the evening, and finally it’s half past seven before I hear the lock at the door finally click open.

  I stand, dimly planning on yelling at Jenkins, but he’s not the one that walks into my room.

  It’s Ethan. He pushes a meal cart and stops, wearing his usual suit. He looks at me for a second with a strange look on his face.

  “Ethan,” I say, stepping toward him.

  “Let’s eat inside tonight,” he says, and starts to set the table.

  I frown, wanting to throw myself at him, but I can sense his discomfort. Instead, I help him put the food out. When we’re finished setting up, we both sit down. He pours himself a drink and then hands me a glass of wine.

  “About last night,” I say, but he stops me with a shake of his head.

  “Let’s eat.”

  I frown and bite my lip then nod. I’m frustrated, but I’ll
play along. I don’t want to spook him or anger him any more. I eat, and the food is good, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.

  I can’t keep hanging on the edge of my seat like this. Ethan doesn’t seem particularly interested in broaching the subject. I watch him, barely picking at my food. He looks exhausted, like he didn’t sleep last night, and he eats like he hasn’t touched food in days. He doesn’t even glance at me once.

  Finally, we both finish. He leans back in his seat and sips his whisky, watching me for a second.

  “I’m going to ask you something,” he says. “If you lie to me, I’ll know.”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you,” I say. “Ethan, what’s going on? What happened?”

  “Did Richard Taylor send you here?”

  I sit back, stunned. “My father?” I ask, genuinely surprised.

  He nods. “Answer the question, Aria.”

  “No,” I say softly. “I haven’t spoken with him in years.”

  He watches me for a second, his face tense, before finally relaxing a little bit. He sighs and leans back in his chair. “You’re telling the truth,” he says.

  “I swear. He didn’t send me here.” I shake my head. “I don’t want anything to do with him.”

  “He knows you’re with me,” Ethan says, and I feel a jolt of panic in my core.

  “How?” I ask softly.

  “He’s been watching me for a while now.”

  I narrow my eyes, confusion washing over me. “What are you talking about, Ethan?”

  “Your father is Richard Taylor, real estate magnate. And I’ve been working on a deal with him to buy one of his buildings for nearly four months now.”

  I suck in a breath, surprised as hell, but I shouldn’t be. This is just my luck. This is just how things work for me. My luck is horrible and never lasts no matter how much I think things are going to turn around.

  It’s not that impossible. My father is one of the richest and most powerful men in the city, or at least he used to be. I’ve heard that he’s a shadow of his former self, riddled with debt and liens on his assets, but that wouldn’t stop him.