Intense: A Dark Billionaire Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  I didn’t miss the look. She bit her lower lip slightly as she looked at my wet body, barely concealed by the towel I had slung low around my hips.

  “How’s the website?” I asked her.

  “Uh, it’s fine,” she said quickly, looking back at her computer.

  I laughed as I walked into the back room and got dressed.

  “Time for another stakeout?” Laney asked me as I parked the car across the street from the apartment building. My stomach was growling, and I had just spent the last half hour in the photography store getting our pictures blown up while Laney pestered me with questions.

  “Yeah, more or less.” I bit into my bagel and chewed.

  “What are we watching for?”

  “Landlord again.”

  “What’s he look like?”

  “Man. Older. Fat.”

  “How old? What color hair?”

  I swallowed my bagel and cocked my head at her. “You’re full of questions.”

  That annoyed her. “If I’m going to be sitting here, I might as well make myself useful.”

  I looked at her for a second and grinned. “Okay then.” I fished my phone out of my pocket, unlocked the screen, and pulled up a picture. I held it out for her.

  She took the phone and looked at it. “This is him?”

  “Yep.” I reached down to the side of my seat and pushed it back, almost to reclining.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I’m still hungover. You take first watch.”

  “Are you serious?”

  I peeked at her from behind half-closed lids. “You want to help?”

  “I do, but, I don’t know.”

  “Binoculars are in the glove. If you see him, wake me up.”

  “Easton.” I could feel her nervousness, but I didn’t say anything. “Fine, whatever,” she mumbled.

  I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. I kept my eyes shut and tried to sleep, but I knew sleep wasn’t going to come.

  Normally, sleep meant nightmares. And I wasn’t in the mood for sharing that part of me with Laney, or with anyone for that matter. What had happened was still too fresh in my mind, still too raw and powerful to try and explain to someone.

  Laney switched on the radio. I listened to the oldies station and tried to rest. My headache had receded to the point of a slight, dull throb, which meant I could actually handle being a normal person for the day.

  Suddenly, after what felt like two minutes, Laney was sharking my arm. “Easton, wake up!”

  “What? I’m awake.”

  “Look.”

  I sat up, swinging my seat back into position. I took the binoculars from her.

  “Second car back.”

  I looked through and spotted him: our fat asshole landlord. He was climbing into the back of a beat-up station wagon.

  “Hold on,” I said, and started the engine.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Following him.”

  I pulled out into traffic and watched as the asshole pulled a U-turn. I made a left at the light and sped up. I caught sight of his car ahead and fell into traffic behind him, keeping my distance.

  “So, like, two cars back?” Laney asked.

  “More or less.”

  She was quiet for a minute as we followed him. “Your mom told me you were really good.”

  I glanced at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “At being in the FBI. You were part of some special task force?”

  I nodded, keeping my eyes on the road.

  “What was it?”

  “Not in the mood to talk.”

  “You know, this would be a lot easier if you lightened up a little bit.”

  I sighed, shaking my head. She had a point, but I wasn’t in the mood. “It was to catch serial killers.”

  “What?”

  “The task force. We were the FBI’s special serial killer task force. I was brought on as a special investigator and profiler.”

  “Wow,” she said. “That sounds pretty amazing.”

  “It was.” At first, at least, I thought, but I held my tongue.

  “So did you, you know, catch any?”

  I paused. “Yeah,” I said softly. “One.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Look, let’s concentrate on this, okay?”

  She must have sensed something in my tone, because she let it drop. I was annoyed with myself for talking about it, and even more annoyed that I was so incapable of having a normal conversation about an important part of my life.

  I concentrated on my driving and Laney lapsed into silence, probably absorbed in what was happening. We followed the asshole landlord for a few miles through an increasingly suburban area. The houses were larger and spaced farther apart, and I guessed we had left Mishawaka and were probably in a neighboring town.

  Finally, the guy pulled into a subdivision. I followed, directly behind him but at a remove. He drove slowly until he pulled into a driveway, and I drove past it, noting the number.

  “Is that his house?” Laney asked.

  “Probably.”

  “We should toilet paper it.”

  I glanced at her and she grinned at me. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, that would show him.”

  “No, but it would be fun.”

  “You’re probably right.” Smiling, I pulled the car over about a block from the asshole’s house.

  “What now?”

  “I think it’s Showtime.” I opened the door and climbed out. Laney followed. “Ready for this?” I asked her.

  “No, not really.”

  “Good.” I began to walk toward the guy’s house.

  Laney fell into step beside me. We had gone over what was going to happen, more or less, but she didn’t really know what she was in for, not really. And frankly, neither did I. Every person reacted differently to a shakedown, and I’d seen it all, from begging to violence. I was hoping I got something in between.

  We walked up the drive of his house. It was a quiet, normal-looking rancher with blue shutters and wide windows. The curtains were pulled shut, and there weren’t any obvious lights on. It was daytime, though, so it was hard to tell if anyone else was home.

  I stopped at the door and glanced at Laney, “You can leave if you’re not up for this.”

  “Just knock,” she said.

  I stared at her for another second. She looked resolutely ahead, face serious and impassive, and I was impressed. Most normal people would be freaking out about banging on some guy’s door and shoving threatening pictures in his face, but Laney didn’t seem upset.

  If anything, she seemed focused and intent. Maybe Susan was right after all. Maybe Laney wasn’t just some spoiled college girl.

  I knocked and then rang the bell. After a few seconds, the inner door pulled open, and there he was.

  “Yes?” he said. “Can I help you?”

  “Sir,” I said quickly, “my name is Adam Greenspan and I’m from the Federal Bureau of Rental Properties and Temporary Housing. This is my assistant, Mrs. Arnsdot. May we have a moment of your time?”

  He instantly looked suspicious, but he didn’t slam the door. “Never heard of you,” he said.

  “Sir, we’re a small bureau. But I understand that you rent out multiple properties in the area. Am I correct?”

  He nodded. “Yes. That’s right.”

  “I’m following up on some complaints we’ve received lately. I was hoping we could resolve these issues here and now and avoid any, uh, lengthy discussions.”

  He stared at us. “Do you have any identification?”

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out my old FBI badge. I had doctored it a bit with some stick-on paper to make it look less like a bureau badge. I flashed it to him and put it away.

  He frowned at us and looked at Laney. She looked back at him and smiled slightly.

  “Okay,” he said. “Come on in.”

  He opened the outer door and we walked insid
e. Laney followed close behind.

  Inside, the place smelled like smoke. The walls were yellowed and the ceilings were low. There wasn’t much light and the carpets looked old as hell. We followed him into a living room. There was a single couch dominating the space in front of an entertainment system with a large flat screen TV. Football highlights were playing on mute.

  He cleared off a spot for us on two chairs and sat down on the couch, pulling out a cigarette. “Mind if I smoke?” he asked.

  “It’s your house.” I pulled out my folder. “Okay, Mister Gibson.” We shook hands.

  “What’s this all about?” he asked, lighting his cigarette.

  “Like I said, we had some complaints.” I pulled out the photographs we had done earlier that day.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “Well, this looks like a mountain of garbage on your roof.”

  I held up the image, smiling serenely.

  His eyes bugged out of his skull, and he nearly dropped his cigarette.

  “That’s not mine,” he said quickly.

  “We both know it is,” I said a little quieter. I pulled out another image of the rat and held it up. He was practically quaking. I pulled out a few more images, of the broken laundry machines and such. Finally, I held the images out for him to take, and he actually took them.

  “Well, Mister Gibson, as you can see, these complaints are serious. This is your property, is it not?”

  He nodded, dumbstruck.

  I leaned forward. “Listen, Chuck. I can call you Chuck, right?”

  He nodded again.

  “Chuck, between me and you, this stuff is routine. I mean, these people could fix this stuff themselves if they wanted to, right?”

  He nodded a third time and took a drag of his cigarette.

  “But you know, it’s my job to follow up on this sort of thing. The boss would have my ass otherwise.” I paused and made a show of smiling kindly. “So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to fix all this, uh, unfortunate side effect of running a high-residence building. You’re going to fix it tomorrow.” I paused and raised an eyebrow. “Then I’m going to follow up. Everything will look fine, lovely, no problems. I’ll write a positive report, and this all goes away.”

  He looked at Laney. “What was your name again?” he asked.

  “Don’t look at her,” I said forcefully. His gaze snapped back to mine, surprised. I softened my voice. “She’s just here to observe. This is between us, Chuck.”

  “You want me to fix this stuff,” he said dumbly.

  “Yes. Tomorrow.”

  “I can’t. That’s impossible.”

  “Chuck.” I leaned back in my chair, shaking my head. “You’re a man of means. You can handle it.”

  “I’m telling you, this stuff will take weeks to sort out.”

  “Chuck, do you like owning a building?”

  “Of course. What does—”

  “Then do what I’m telling you to do.”

  He stared at me, shocked.

  For my part, I was having so much fun. I loved playing a role, loved lying to this guy, loved pushing him around. He was a scumbag and an asshole, and I loved playing on his emotions. I wanted to punish him, and the punishment was so much sweeter when it was slow.

  “I can’t,” he said simply.

  “Listen to me, you fat, stupid, disgusting oaf,” I said. “You will fix this fucking horrendous garbage, and you will fix it tomorrow. If you don’t, I will take away your building.” I stood up.

  “You can’t talk to me that way!” There were equal amounts of rage and confusion playing on his face.

  “Yes, I can, because you are at my mercy. Mrs. Arnsdot?” Laney stood up.

  “I’ll tell your supervisor!”

  “Please, do that. Then they’ll come and do their inspection. Which is exactly what you don’t want.” When he didn’t respond, I turned to Laney. “Mrs. Arnsdot, please make a note to compliment Chuck here on how polite and helpful he has been in your report.”

  “Yes, Mr. Greenspan,” Laney said.

  I wanted to kiss her. It was so perfect.

  “You can’t do this,” the asshole said.

  “Tomorrow,” I replied, and then I nodded to Laney. She walked out and I followed.

  Then we were out the front door, down the front walk, and moving fast back toward the car.

  I felt elated, excited, energetic. I laughed out loud as we climbed back into the car, cackling.

  “Did you see his face?” I asked. “What a fucking idiot!”

  Laney shook her head, grinning ear to ear. “That was insane. Why did we pretend to be government people?”

  “Always works better than just straight-up threats. He’ll figure out that there’s no bureau of rentals or whatever, and he’ll be even more freaked.”

  “What if he doesn’t do anything?”

  “Then I’ll go back alone and say a few more convincing things.” I started the engine. “But we don’t have to worry bout that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s going to do it. I’ve done this a few times now, and I can tell.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  I grinned at her. “Yeah, probably. But you were great, Mrs. Arnsdot.”

  “What’s with that name?”

  “Who knows. But he was looking at you like he wanted to rip your clothes off.”

  She blushed. “No, he wasn’t.”

  “Sure he was. He’s a fucking creep.” I leaned closer to her, smirking. “But you do look fucking sexy as hell, especially when you’re lying straight-faced to a prick.”

  She blushed even more. “Okay, that’s enough. Let’s get out of here.”

  “You got it, Mrs. Arnsdot.” I pulled out and drove back toward the office.

  I felt great. I always felt this good after something like that, but it was different. Somehow, having Laney around made me more confident, like I wanted to impress her or some shit.

  But that wasn’t me. I wasn’t the type to show off for a woman. I had never needed to before, and I sure as shit didn’t need to now.

  Still, that knowing smile she gave me, the way she blushed when I talked dirty, it all drove me wild. My heart was pounding, and I wanted nothing more than to pull over and fuck Laney until she screamed my name right in the back of my car.

  Instead, I took her to Starbucks and bought us both coffee. I’d fuck her brains out later.

  5

  Laney

  “Senior Easton, thank you so much!”

  I watched as Easton practically squirmed in Mrs. Suarez’s embrace.

  “Just did my job,” he mumbled.

  She hugged him tighter. “You saved us. You saved all of us.”

  I grinned at him and he mouthed get her off me. I just shook my head and crossed my arms, loving his discomfort.

  But he did deserve the praise. After our little visit to the Biggest Asshole Landlord Ever, we staked out the apartment building for a few more days. Sure enough, we watched as groups of workers came and went, making repairs and cleaning the place up.

  A few days later, we snuck back inside and went up to the roof. The trash pile was miraculously gone.

  I never did completely understand the logic behind what Easton had done. I got the threat, but I wasn’t sure why we couldn’t just come out and make it ourselves instead of playing pretend. He said that we would never have gotten into the guy’s front door, let alone made him listen, if we were just being ourselves.

  So whatever magic Easton had, it seemed to work. I was pretty skeptical of the whole thing, although it was pretty exciting. He had been cool and calm and serious, and even a little protective. I didn’t need him to hover over me, but I did feel a little start in my stomach whenever he looked at me.

  “Please, if there is anything you ever need, you come to me,” Mrs. Suarez said, letting him go.

  “You already paid. That’s enough.”

  Mrs. Suarez went to hug him again,
but he deftly stepped out of the way. She said something in Spanish and he replied in Spanish. They had a quick conversation, only half of which made any sense to me, and then finally Mrs. Suarez left the office.

  I laughed at him, shaking my head. “What was that last part about?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” he grunted, sitting down behind his desk.

  “Come on, tell me.”

  “She was offering me a daughter.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  “To marry, I guess.” He smirked at me. “I’m thinking about taking her up on it.”

  “Go ahead. Are they cute?”

  He shrugged. “Depends. Are donkeys cute?”

  I laughed and leaned up against the filing cabinet. “Not in the way I’m thinking, they aren’t.”

  “Well there you go.”

  “You did a good thing, you know.”

  He paused. “I got paid. I did a job. That’s it.”

  “Still. Those people really needed it.”

  “Doesn’t matter to me. If they can pay, I’ll help.”

  I sighed. “Are you really so callous?”

  “Not much moves this heart, sis. The only thing that excites me anymore is that very shapely ass of yours.”

  “You’re so flattering,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “How about we celebrate this good thing I did,” he said, motioning for me to come over. “Maybe right here on the top of my desk.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to talk to an employee that way.”

  “No, definitely not. But I love the way you blush when I do. And I bet you’re soaking wet thinking about me fucking you until you scream my name.”

  “Definitely not supposed to say that,” I mumbled, trying not to blush. As much as I hated to admit it, he had a knack for getting under my skin.

  Worse, he had a knack for getting me riled up and soaked. I glanced at his strong arms and bit my bottom lip, looking away quickly. He caught my glance, though, and stood up, coming nearer.

  “I’m not supposed to tell my stepsister that I want to feel her lips wrapped around my hard cock either, but I’m doing that.” He stopped near me.

  “Keep it up,” I said, “and I’ll tell on you.”