Vested Interest Box Set: Books 1-3

by Melanie Moreland

  I gaped at her.

  She slapped her hand over her mouth, her dark eyes large in her face. “I shouldn’t have said that.” She bent close again. “But seriously, has no one ever said it to you?”

  “No!” I snapped. I was sure people had thought it, but no one ever stated it out loud. “They haven’t.”

  “I’m sorry. I spoke without thinking.”

  I picked up my coffee. “I’ll find another place to sit. You can go back to studying.”

  Her hand shot out, grabbing my arm. I looked down at her fingers against the navy fabric of my suit—pale, small, and frail.

  “No, please, I was teasing. I do that when I’m nervous—make jokes and say things without thinking. I’m sorry.”

  I huffed and sat back down, unsure why I did so. She grimaced anxiously and plucked at the sleeve of her sweater.

  “I have a condition,” she announced.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I get cold easily. I have really poor circulation. So, when you’re hot, I’m comfortable. When you’re cold, I’m freezing. That’s why I wear a sweater in the summer, and it’s why I’m sitting at this table. It’s sort of tucked away and the air conditioning doesn’t work well back here, so it’s not as popular.” She grinned, and a deep dimple appeared on her left cheek. “In the winter, it’s reversed, and it’s so hot here no one wants this table, but it’s perfect for me.”

  I realized she was trying to make up for her teasing by sharing something personal, and my annoyance lessened. “Is it serious?” I asked, somehow curious. “Your condition.”

  “No, it’s something I’ve dealt with since I was a child. It’s like a temperature malfunction; more annoying than anything.” She shrugged. “People think I’m overdramatic, but it’s a simple fact of life for me.” She went back to her work.

  I sipped my coffee and finished my scone. It truly was delicious.

  I studied my table companion again while she had her attention on her laptop screen. She was frowning, tapping her chewed pen on her chin, mouthing the words she read. Her brow furrowed and she pulled her sweater tighter. I wondered if there was a way to make her more comfortable. Startled, I shook my head at the strange thoughts. She looked my way, and our gazes locked. The sunlight streaming through the window caught her eyes. The light was bright enough I could see small flecks of gold around her pupils, like bursts of sunshine. Her expression was no longer challenging, but gentle. The need to share something with her filled my thoughts, and I leaned closer.

  “My father was Winston Bentley Ridge the second. I’m the third. I hate the name Winston, so I use Bentley. I know it’s pretentious”—I shrugged—“but I’m told often enough I am as well, so it fits.”

  She smiled at me. A huge smile that showed off her straight, white teeth.

  “So, a pretentious ass then?”

  I gave up trying not to laugh. She was honest to a fault. “You got me.”

  “Rich too, I suppose.”

  “Rolling in it.”

  “Yep, I figured. All rich, pretentious assholes come to Al’s Coffee Shop for the scones.”

  “Of course. They’re amazing. I heard it at the club.”

  I found it odd I was sitting there, joking with a random girl about my life—and, enjoying it. Possibly, it was because she didn’t believe a word I said, even though some of it was true.

  “Where’s your bodyguard?” She lifted her eyebrows dramatically. “Is he waiting for your signal to pounce? Take me out for my insolent behavior?”

  “No, you’re safe. He’s having breakfast down the street. He’ll be along shortly. If I change my mind, though, you’d best run.”

  “Are you serious?” Her mouth was agape.

  “About having a bodyguard? Yes.”

  “Wow. I’ve never met anyone with a bodyguard before today.”

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  She snorted. “Yeah, we all have one. Mine must be having his nails done right now. He likes them short, so they look good when he holds his gun.”

  Once again, I chuckled.

  She glanced at her watch. “Oh shit. I’m late!”

  I watched, amused, as she slammed her laptop shut, gathered up her papers, and shoved it all into the larger rucksack haphazardly, yanking on the zipper to get it closed. It took everything in me not to tell her if she organized things better, her possessions would last longer and be in better shape. The rucksack was falling apart—both of them were. I wondered why she carried so many items that she needed two rucksacks. I reminded myself it was none of my business. Seeing my car pull up outside, I stood.

  “I’ll see you out.”

  She waved her hand in front of her face. “Oh Lord, such manners.”

  Smirking, I indicated she should go ahead of me. At the door, I reached around her, letting her out first.

  Outside, Aiden stood by the car, his arms folded over his mammoth chest.

  “Whoa. Is that him?”

  “It is.”

  “Well, you’re safe, I believe.”

  “I think I’m good.”

  She turned, and her hair lifted in the breeze, the color vivid in the sun, a mixture of blonde and brown that swirled around her face. I had the strangest urge to lift my hand and tuck the loose strands behind her ear. Instead, I cleared my throat and stepped back.

  “Thank you for allowing me to share your table, Emmy. Have a good day.”

  A look of disappointment crossed her face, then she nodded.

  “You too, Rigid. I am sorry about tripping you. Try to use your smile a little more, okay?”

  “Ridge. It’s Bentley Ridge.”

  She ignored me. “Can I tell you something, Rigid? My name isn’t Emmy.”

  “It’s not?”

  She leaned up on tiptoes, close to my ear, her small hand resting on my forearm. “No. It’s Winifred.”

  “Winifred?”

  “Yep. Winifred Windfall. That means, really, I’m Freddy Money. So, Bentley Ridge isn’t that bad.”

  I could feel the amusement growing in my chest once more. I felt the brush of her lips against my cheek.

  “Have a good day.”

  She spun on her heel and walked away, peeking over her shoulder with a wave.

  I watched her until she disappeared around the corner, my grin fading as she did.

  Bentley

  “Who was that?”

  I glanced over at Aiden with a shrug. “Some girl I spoke with in the coffee shop.”

  “You spoke with some girl?”

  “We had a conversation, yes.”

  “She’s hot. You get her number?”

  I rolled my eyes. “She’s a university student. I highly doubt she’s interested in spending time with a thirty-two-year-old man.”

  He looked concerned. “She looked older than the normal student. What’s her name?”

  “Emmy . . . I think.”

  “You think?”

  I waved my hand. “Inside joke.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Did you approach her or did she approach you?”

  “For fuck sake, Aiden, don’t start. She isn’t someone out to get me. I was looking for a place to sit, and there was an empty chair at her table. I sat there. We chatted. No big deal.”

  I turned, checked for traffic, and hurried across the street, hoping Greg had finally made it into his office. Aiden was right beside me, mumbling.

  “It’s not like you to chat with someone, that’s all. Or say, ‘inside joke.’ Never mind the fact I saw her kiss your cheek. You don’t let people get close.”

  He was right on all his facts; I couldn’t argue. I rarely went out of my way to talk to a stranger, even pretty ones. I never got close to people because I liked my personal space. But I didn’t want to talk about it. I pulled open the door and strode to the elevator, pushing the button.

  “Give it a rest, dude.”

  He gaped at me. “Did you just call me ‘dude’?”

  I hid my amusement.r />
  He crossed his arms, the material of his shirt stretching across his shoulders. “What’s going on with you, Bent?”

  I ignored him, scrolling through my phone.

  “I wish you’d gotten her name. I could vet her; make sure she’s on the up and up.”

  I huffed in annoyance. “It was a chat in a coffee shop. It was two people sitting at a table, being polite. I’ll probably never see her again, so there is no need to vet her. You are driving me crazy with this shit!”

  “It’s my job.”

  “To protect me or drive me crazy?”

  He grinned. “Both.”

  With a heavy sigh, I walked past him and into Greg’s office. It was too early for his assistant to be at her desk, and since his door was open, I went in, unannounced. He was at his desk, two coffee cups already empty. I swore he lived on the stuff. He stood, reaching to shake my hand. He was tall and heavy-set, with a thick neck and chest, a head of wiry, brown hair brushed high off his forehead, and brown eyes. His face was long with heavy jowls, his expression impassive. He looked older than his years. He never gave anything away, which made him a great lawyer.

  “Greg.”

  “Bentley. Sorry about the delay. Faulty battery, it seems. I had it replaced last week, and the one they put in was defective.”

  “I assume they will be replacing it.”

  “Oh, yes. And then some.”

  Knowing Greg, “and then some,” meant a lot of free mechanical work for his car. He was a master of manipulating situations to go in his favor. His negotiation skills were infamous.

  We got down to business, going through some new deals I was structuring. He made notes, offered suggestions and opinions. Aiden was silent, but I knew he was absorbing the entire conversation. He had a knack for remembering details. I pushed the last of the paperwork Greg’s way. “I don’t like the wording in these two documents. It’s too vague.”

  “I thought so, as well. I’ll get it changed.”

  He pushed another file my way. “I took the liberty of changing some wording in this one. The non-compete wasn’t detailed enough.”

  I scanned the document and signed it. “Good catch.”

  “It’s my job,” he stated dryly. “You should know by now I have high standards.”

  “And rates. Your bills rival every other expense in my company.”

  “You get what you pay for. I’m sure you agree I’m worth it.”

  Before I could respond, Greg’s assistant arrived, bringing him in another black coffee and a plate of dry, whole-wheat toast. She brought me in a mug of coffee and a bottle of water for Aiden. She had been with Greg since he opened his business. He still addressed her as Mrs. Johnson. I did, as well. Greg didn’t believe in treating employees as anything other than that. Employees. He didn’t particularly approve of my less structured way of dealing with my staff, and he disapproved of working with “friends.”

  I took a long sip of the hot brew, leaning back in my chair.

  “What’s the word on the Lancaster deal?”

  Greg swallowed the last of his toast and drained his coffee. “Dead end.”

  “How is that possible?”

  He shook his head. “Whoever bought those two parcels of land doesn’t want to be known, Bentley. There are so many numbered corporations; I can’t track down who really owns them. I’m not even sure if they’re the same person. The red tape is endless.”

  I stood, pacing the room. “I still don’t know how they bought them right out from under me.”

  He shrugged. “It was a closed bid. They bid higher.”

  “I overbid. I was certain I’d get them. You were, also.”

  “I thought you would. They obviously wanted them, and you were outbid.”

  I fisted my hands, flexing my fingers, tightening them, trying to relax. “But why? I own all the land between them. They’re small pieces. It hardly seems worth the effort.”

  “And they’re standing in the way of you building your vision. I think they’ll come to you with an offer soon enough. I assume they’ll be looking for a lot of cash.”

  “Right. The parcel of land I want is still going up for sale in September? The large one?”

  “Yes. Bids are due mid-month. The decision will be announced in October.”

  “I want it.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “Once I have that piece, I can build, even if they don’t sell.”

  “Not to the same specs.”

  “Close enough. Once I start, they’ll sell.”

  “Unless you’re outbid.”

  “Don’t let that happen, Greg.”

  “Again, it’s a closed bid, Bentley. I’ll put in the offer you want, but I have no control over the other bids.”

  Shoving my hands into my pockets, I stared out the window as I rolled the small beads hidden in the folds of the material. The action always calmed me.

  I had bought some land a few years prior, with a vague idea in mind. As it grew and developed, I realized I needed to purchase more of the area. Slowly, I accrued additional land in the neighborhood. Then, it was as if I became cursed. I got into a bidding war for a large piece, which went up for sale last year, and it cost me way more than I wanted. When the two parcels of land that sandwiched the middle piece became available, I overbid, determined to get them so I could move ahead with my dream of revamping the neighborhood. Upscale homes, expensive boutiques, restaurants, and clubs. Furious didn’t describe my state of mind when I lost the parcels of land to an unknown entity, and all efforts to reach out and purchase them had proven fruitless. Greg was like a dog with a bone, but even he and all his resources couldn’t find the identity of the purchaser. It was frustrating.

  “Any other threats?” Greg inquired to Aiden.

  “A couple. Very few people know of Bent’s plans for the area, but they seem to be fully aware.”

  “A leak, perhaps? Computer hacking?”

  “We’ve checked and double-checked. We’ve added security, changed passwords, encryption, and protocols. We have even cut back on the number of people with access to information. It’s down to a handful.”

  “Is it worth it, Bentley? Is this project that important? You usually walk away when a deal isn’t working and move onto something new.”

  I spun around, facing him. “I’ve been working on this for a long time. I want to see it through.”

  “Someone is threatening your life.”

  I waved my hand. “It’s not the first time. It’s a couple of anonymous, vague notes.”

  “And pictures of you that mysteriously appear.”

  I had to admit those were troublesome, but I shrugged. “They want me to back off. They see what I do—the huge potential in a once overlooked area of the city. If I step back, they’ll move in and do exactly what I am going to do, making themselves a fortune.”

  “There are other projects. Other ways to make money.”

  “I’m not letting some coward hide behind miles of paperwork and numbered companies, and scare me off. No one is going to kill me over a land deal.”

  “Stranger things have been known to happen,” Aiden interjected. “You’re not taking this seriously enough.”

  “And you’re taking it way too seriously. We’ve dealt with this in the past.”

  “I don’t like it. This situation feels different.”

  Greg reclined in his chair, contemplative. “I agree with Aiden, it does.”

  I looked between them. “Well, I never thought I would see the day the two of you agreed on something.”

  “Think about it, Bentley. I heard of some other parcels of land coming up for sale. Take on a different project.”

  I shook my head, stubborn and defiant. I hated manipulation, especially by a faceless enemy.

  Greg shrugged. “Okay, fine. I’ll keep digging.”

  “Good.”

  I shook his hand. “Keep me posted.”

  My day was a busy one, and I went from meeting to m
eeting, finally ending up back in my office late in the afternoon.

  It was strange how every time my mind was free, memories of the morning filtered through. The sound of Emmy’s voice. The way her eyes flashed with wit. The dimple that appeared when she smiled in a certain way. For some reason, I wanted her to smile at me. I wanted to hear her laugh. I even liked the gentle way she teased me about my life. In the short time I had sat with her, she made me feel . . . lighter. As crazy as it seemed, I wanted the chance to see her again.

  My phone rang, and I picked it up.

  “Ridge.”

  “It’s Greg. I have those documents redone. I’ll have them sent over tomorrow, and you can sign them. I’ll have the courier wait, and he can bring them back to me.”

  “Great.” I paused, as an inane idea formed. “Wait, I’ll come to you, and sign them there.”

  He sounded surprised. “Are you sure?”

  “I’ll be over same time as this morning.”

  “Do you have other meetings this end of town?”

  “Yes. See you tomorrow.”

  I hung up, and turned my chair around, studying the bustling city outside my office window. I didn’t have a meeting. I had no business in that area of the city tomorrow or the rest of the week.

  Except . . . I fancied a scone.

  Perhaps, if I were lucky, a smile from the girl who made it.

  Bentley

  The next morning, I was inexplicably nervous. I picked out my favorite suit—dark gray with pinstripes—and added a brilliant blue tie. I studied my face in the mirror. I certainly wasn’t model material, but I’d been told I was handsome. My hair was thick, a sandy brown in color, curly and unruly. I had to use product to keep it in place. I only allowed a slight wave at the top where it was a touch longer. I was tall, and because of the workouts I did with Aiden, my shoulders broad and my waist narrow. My eyes were a bright blue—something I inherited from my mother, and my brains from my intelligent father. My personality came from my upbringing. Quiet. Staid. Always able to control my emotions.

  Boring, Aiden would tell me.

  I withheld my plans from Aiden today. I knew he’d be pissed, but I’d deal with him later. I slipped into the car, holding my paper. Frank raised one eyebrow in a silent question.