4

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.

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.”