Chapter Four

The Worth's Mansion

The hallway smelt of freshly baked pastries. The alluring aroma filled Brent's nose; an easy way to know he was now in his home. He could hear the chattering of his family and some extra voices, would be some visitors. He could hear the excitement in their voices and his heart broke when he remembered he would be a reason for them to feel unhappy.

He took a deep breath and walked into the living room.

His father, Bradley Kenilworth noticed his entrance.

"Hey, son____you are here". He put out his hand and Brent took and his father drew him closer in a brief hug. "How are you doing Dad"?

"Great! Good as new". His mum called out to him from where she sat, opening her arms to receive her beloved son. Brent walked over to her and sat beside her before falling into her fragile arms. He planted kisses all over her face and she giggled.

"I missed you Mama_____i didn't know I would be gone for this long".

"I missed you too Brent. How are you?"

Brent nodded while responding casually. "Fine Ma. Just fine".

His mother looked up at him with pity in her eyes. She could see through his charade and was unhappy. He was still battling with the pain of losing his Caramel.

Bradley gave a sign to his son to come closer and tried to introduce him to the guest.

"This is my son, Brent; the heir to my empire. In a short while, he will resume managerial tasks that relate to my company".

"Nice to meet you Brent", one of the guests said and others followed up with their compliments.

Brent nodded toward them and sat down on the couch next to his father's. Then he saw a lady seated beside one of the guests, Sir McKenzie Scott; his father's best friend. She wore a red pair with long adorable braids. He knew her. They had spent the night together in Los Angeles a few months ago. He was certain she was the one. He struggled to remember her name.

Sir McKenzie caught sight of Brent looking at Whitney, his niece, with what he misunderstood as admiration, and smiled and called out to Brent.

"...She is Whitney, my late brother's only child. Work brought her to Los Altos Hills, so I told her to stay with me". 

"Oh,____ great. Nice to meet you Whitney'' Brent said searching for an expression on her face.

Whitney followed his expression and did the same with her face looking glazed. She muttered a "Thank you and same here" without looking up at him.

Brent could spot her discomfort and chose to torture her further.

"What do you do"? He asked her with a tone of sarcasm.

Whitney cleared her throat about to speak but her uncle McKenzie took over and excitedly replied:

"She is a big shot in the FDI(Federal Department of Intelligence)". He was proud of her achievements.

"Oh,_____ wowww. You know we never asked. That's an interesting job", Bradley said.

"You're doing well for yourself dear" Phoebe(Brent's mum added). 

"Thank you all. I appreciate your compliments. I am not sure how much more I can take", she replied with a weak smile, readjusting on her couch. She was truly uncomfortable.

"Yeah____ I forgot to add, she is a sucker at taking compliments. She gets edgy whenever we or anyone goes on and on about how great she is doing ", Sir McKenzie explained.

"Awww… that is not entirely bad if you ask me. I like a lady who depicts humility, especially for a son like Brent____".

"D-A-D…?" Brent bemoaned, his face squeezed in a frown. "I am not up for any lady affairs at the moment."

"You can't be serious Brent! Stop getting ahead of yourself in these matters " Mr. Bradley scolded.

"I am sure he does not mean any word he just said. He must mean it as a joke" his mother chimed in with a fading smile.

"Can a young, handsome fellow such as you be able to resist women's affairs"? McKenzie asked with laughter. Everyone joined in the laughter including Brent.

Brent glanced over at the living room to Whitney. He could recognize her. She was the mystery lady from one of his nights in Los Angeles.

He fixed his gaze on her hoping she would finally lift her eyes and she did. Their eyes locked in a recognition stare. His thoughts wandered to the night they met. She claimed to be lodged in a hotel with her boring lover and needed some moment to herself; 'something wild for tonight ' she whispered to his ears by the pool.

He remembered considering her enigmatic and wondering how a lady could be so overly expressive about her wanton desires and yet she is not a whore. They had started off touching sensitive places on their bodies at the pool and finally holding off till they got into his room. He was about to tear off her little piece of clothing when she suggested they spend a few minutes getting to know each other over a bottle of wine.

He had the room service send in wine and after a few glasses, the world became blank. All he could remember was waking up the next morning on the floor, half-naked.

Her disappearance was mind-boggling. He frantically ran through his stuff, checking for any missing items. He even went to the hotel lobby to make a report and when he was asked her name, it dawned on him that he never got the name.

He concluded she was probably on a mission and he was her target.

So, staring at the same lady, right in front of him now, he would not let her go easily. She had a lot of explanations to do and he could not wait for so long.

"Dinner is served" exclaimed Phoebe. The guests rose and strode to the dining, each assuming a comfortable spot. At that moment, Bradley took the spot beside Whitney hoping to torture her to get the truth out of her.

Whitney expected that and she was ready for him "I promise you, it is not what you think", she whispered, her voice smacked by shock.

"Really? What do I even think? That you disappeared without a word after probably drugging my drink"? 

She was becoming uncomfortable and adjusted several times on her seat.

"Did you drug my drink that night, Whitney "? He asked emphatically and his tone gradually drifted from curious to angry.

"Maybe a little…." her voice drifted. She was too dazed and her perplexity was etched on her face. If she had known he was the same man, she would never have shown up at this dinner.

"A little"? Brent retorted, "Just little enough to knock me out for almost twenty-four hours and leave me numb. Why did you do it"?

He stared at her quizzically while she tried her best to keep her face down while she ate and wore a fake smile; a charade to make others believe they were getting along.

"I demand answers or____".

"Cut me a slack, Mr. Brent. I am not proud of my actions but you cannot push me to say what I wouldn't ". He was surprised at the sudden switch; just a while ago, she was sullen and suddenly she had this tormenting look of confidence.

"So, you are not going to tell me why you put some drugs in my drink? Did you forget you are a federal officer who stands to lose a lot if I spilled the tea"?

"Seriously? Are you that petty Brent"?

"Wait a minute! Petty isn't me trying to find out why a lady walks up to me and suddenly disappears on me after making me unconscious. She doesn't steal a dime, she took nothing yet she drugged me".

He was becoming tense and so was she.

"Look, Brent, I was doing my job okay… you just have to let it slide".

Brent became even more confused, his perplexity etched on his face. 

"Your job? How am I a part of your job"?

She was becoming impatient with his persistent interrogations.

The other guests spotted how they were conversing and Mr. Bradley chided in calling Brent a go-getter.

"He knows exactly how to get it done, couldn't let the evening pass before attempting" Sir McKenzie added.

"I am right here Dad," Brent whispered.

"We know"! Mr. Bradley exclaimed and everyone laughed at how quickly his response came.

While they chatted about several things, Brent turned back to Whitney with a stern look and a husky voice he said:

"Look Lady, I do not know what games you are playing with me or my family but I demand now that you tell me exactly what it is you are up to. I will make this messy if you do not".

Whitney could see his seriousness. She took a deep breath and gave him the most shocking news of his life.

"You are the prime suspect in a murder case"