Rendezvous (7 page)

“Lost angels should know better than to venture into dark corners all alone. You never know naughty little creature could be hiding in wait,” I say trying to sound scolding.

Her reply catches me off guard, the words hitting me like an aphrodisiac. “What if this angel is looking to tarnish her halo?”

Turning her around in my arms, I have to see her. Her eyes are hooded as she looks up at me. I need to feel her so badly. Lifting my hand, I brush the hair away from her face so I can see all of it. “I don’t know if your halo can be tarnished, but I’m sure I can fuck you hard enough to knock it off.”

The giggle that escapes her is downright sexy. I stare down at her mouth as she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth before responding. “Are you attempting to seduce me Mr. Reece?”

My name rolling off her tongue is pushing at my limits, and has my dick trying to burst through my pants. “Do I really need to seduce you Bentley?” I say, whispering in her ear, my warm breath causing shivers to snake down her spine.

“Fuck me, Tristan.” Her words are a sensual groan as they leave her mouth. I’m not sure if it’s her way of saying no to my question, or a plea for my cock.

Before I can think of anything else to say, I am pushing her through the bathroom door. As soon as we are both inside the room, I have her wrapped around me. I need to feel her, to bury myself so deep inside of her that she will feel me for weeks. She reaches into my pants and grasps my cock. At the same time, someone starts knocking on the door. I feel her giggle against my skin as I tell whoever is on the other side to go piss somewhere else. Just as I’m about to bury my dick deep inside of her, the knocking grows louder and my eyes shoot open.
Fuck me
. I know I need to get my ass moving, but damn if I didn’t want to stay there with her. Instead I haul ass and head over to the door.

Cage is standing there looking at me like I have lost my mind. Looking back at the clock, I see it blinking 8:05. Shit! I fucking overslept. Not bothering to check my appearance, I grab the key card and shut the door behind me. That little fantasy has me all fucked up. I swear if I don’t get Bentley back soon, I’ll lose my fucking mind.

Bentley

It takes me three damn days to travel across the country. Not because it should take that long, but apparently Mother Nature is feeling slightly bitchy and has decided to dump a wrath of freezing hell onto the better part of the country. This is why I prefer to live where it’s fucking warm. I hate the cold and I hate snow no matter how pretty it looks. I’m not fooled by the state of bliss it creates. That shit is cold and messy and it’s a fucking bitch to drive through.

Whoever believes that Cali is nothing but sunshine and fair weather has obviously never been to the northern part of the state. It has shitty weather just like every other part of the country.

Pulling into the long drive, I scope out the building in front of me and second guess if I have the right place. Who the hell would need a house this big if they live alone? This place is the size of a museum. Double checking that I have the right address, I drive up the round driveway and park in front of the building. It’s the right address, though it’s probably the most intimidating mansion I’ve ever seen.

On both sides of the steps there are twin gargoyles leering out into the vast white that covers the lawn. I quickly jaunt up the steps and click the door knocker twice. I can hear the sound echoing through the foyer and it leaves me feeling hollow. The sound is as empty as I feel inside.

The door opens a minute later and a woman who reminds me of Mrs. Pott’s from Beauty and the Beast greets me. “May I help you?” she says with a warm friendly smile.

“Hi...umm...I’m Bentley Celeste,” I stumble over my words as I try to figure out exactly what I’m supposed to say.
Hi there, I own this place now so if you don’t mind please move out of my way.
No I’d come off as a mean bitch.
Hi I’m Bentley, my father owns this house, or well he did until three days ago.
Nope...still sounds snobbish. “I uh, I think this is my father’s house. Well was his house. Might still be, I’m not really sure. Since I think he’s still in a coma, Marco Linzetti?” I say, stumble through the words.

“Welcome home, Bentley. Mr. Linzetti spoke of you often. It broke his heart that you couldn’t be here with him, but that nasty witch of a woman made good on her promise too many times that she’d hurt you if he even tried to see you. Of course he’d have done anything he could have if it meant she didn’t touch you again. It cost him his beloved Wendy.  Well no matter, you’re here now. And bust my buckle; you’re a spitting image of him. Just as pretty as all of those pictures he keeps. I do wish he was here with us, but Mr. Linzetti was moved to a private facility for care. His personal physician said we weren’t equipped to handle his treatment here. He had been feeling sick for quite some time, though the doctors couldn’t find a single reason for his declining health. Of course, if you ask me, I think it’s all the business with that wretched woman. He was always receiving reports about you, and when he heard you’d been abducted… well...let’s just say this isn’t the first time his heart has given out. Though come to think of it, he had just received news about her the day he had his heart attack. It’s such a shame for you to be here now, and him in such a terrible state. No mind though, he’ll be waking up soon enough, and I’m sure everything will be right as rain when he sees you there.”

I listen to her go on about my father while still standing in the doorway. I wonder how long she has been with him that she seems to know so much about our past. I imagine quite a while if she’s familiar with his deceased wife. It's then that the thought hits me: I’ll be not only staying in a stranger’s home, but a stranger who lost his wife because of me. The thought unsettles me, but before I can back out, the woman catches my attention again.

"Oh my goodness, listen to me… I’ve been yakking your ear off and you haven’t even made it into the foyer yet. Come inside dear. You must be freezing out there. I’m awfully sorry for the lax state that the place is in, but Mr. Linzetti never resides at this residence. He has a much smaller home that he prefers. He never has the heart to sell it though. He bought it shortly after the first time he saw you. He wanted a house big enough that it would echo with your laughter. That never happened though. After he lost Wendy, he couldn’t seem to make it a home. He doesn't have the heart to sell it though either. So instead, this house is used for when he entertains guests or has a one of his holiday parties.”

Looking around, I can’t understand why anyone would live here. Don’t get me wrong, the place is gorgeous, but it really is a museum. There are pieces of fine art and sculptures everywhere. Everything is intricately detailed. There are no photos at all. Nothing personal. As we tour the downstairs, I listen as she explains where everything is located. Feeling overwhelmed, I stop her as we reach the enormous kitchen.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. You said he doesn’t usually reside here. Then why am I here? I don’t see even the slightest bit of anything personal here at all. This place looks like a living museum, with bedrooms so people can visit. I don’t get why I wasn’t directed to where he actually lives.”

With another smile and a nod she replies, “I understand. You may call me Mrs. Anders, though I’ve not been married a great many years. I still hold my love for my Henry. Mr. Linzetti wanted you to have a fresh start. He didn’t want you bogged down with memories that weren’t your own. He arranged with his lawyer that any property he has be cleaned out of any personal effects, although this house hasn’t had a personal touch in… I dare say...twenty-four years. He moved out shortly after Wendy’s death and moved all of his memories with him. It’s usually just myself and a few others who are here, although none of us are live-in help. Of course, if you’ll be needing live-in help I can have that arranged.”

“No thank you, Mrs. Anders. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I don’t need anyone to do it for me. I’ll still keep you and the others on for whatever it is that you do though. I’m not looking to cause any kind of hardships.”

“Of course dear. Maddie usually comes in the mornings and evenings to cook. Though I never much saw the need, since she’s only cooked for the staff other than on special occasions, but your father wanted to make sure her skills are kept in good use. I’ll let her know that you are here. She’ll be ecstatic to have someone new to test her culinary skills on. Jameson usually deals with the grounds keeping as well as anything that needs to be fixed inside. Emilia comes twice a week to tidy up, and she’ll keep everything ship-shape. As for myself, I’m here on a daily basis to make sure everything continues running smoothly. Your father already arranged for his employees' holiday bonuses. They tend to be given a few days before Christmas, although that’s up to you now. I ordered a Christmas tree to be delivered tomorrow, but if you don’t plan to celebrate the holiday, I can always have it cancelled.”

“No! Not at all, it would be nice to be around people for the holidays. I usually spend them alone, at least Christmas itself. I don’t want to see anyone working that day though. I expect whomever to be with their families, but a tree will be nice. Does Marco have decorations somewhere? I think it would be nice to invite everyone over to trim the tree and then pass out their bonuses. That way they have a little time to shop if needed.”

“Oh, how fun! That sounds like an excellent idea, Miss. I’ll call Jameson to have him bring the decorations down from the attic right away and schedule a gathering for the employees.”

Finishing the tour with Mrs. Anders, I learn that the house has fourteen bedrooms, twenty bathrooms, an indoor pool, a mini movie theatre, an industrial size kitchen with top grade appliances, a full garden, a home gym and spa, and a room with a completely glass ceiling used for stargazing. I’m informed the latter was installed several years ago for me, because of my love of stars. It even housed a state of the art telescope.

It was strange exploring this house and seeing so many things I am familiar with. He didn’t just decorate this house with fine art; he decorated it with my favorite artists. I was right; it is a museum. He must have had people watching me my entire life, reporting back with their findings on what interested me and then he bought those things.

This man who I didn’t even know existed obviously cares more about me than any of the people that claimed me as family. When I first learned of his existence four days ago, I wanted to hate him. I wanted to despise him for leaving me with that monster. Yet here I am feeling overwhelmed with the knowledge that all my life this man has loved me from a distance. He bought this house in hopes that one day the halls would be filled with the laughter of the large family he so desired. He spent decades waiting for a dream that he may never see realized.

Something inside of me longs to know this man. I want to know what it is that I was cheated out of. After settling into the beautiful room that Mrs. Anders set up as mine, I place my gun case under my bed and head back downstairs. I find her and another woman I suspect to be Maddie in the kitchen. After brief introductions I ask where I can find Marco. I am told that I won’t be able to visit this evening, but am given directions on where to head in the morning. After light conversation and a delicious meal, I excused myself to retire for the evening.

I smile at the familiarity that even the sheets remind me of my home. It’s like they were told exactly what to shop for before I came. It’s nice and in a way reassuring. I don’t feel like I am in some strange mansion; I feel like I am home, and that is a very comforting reassurance.

Chapter 8

Tristan

I am sitting in the diner for the third day in a row. My anxiety is getting the best of me. I am worried Darla has already bailed. What if she already found a marker to take the contract on Bentley? What if we already missed her and she is heading for Bentley herself? What if that agency jumped the gun and picked her up early? All of these 'what ifs' are running through my fucking mind and eating me alive when I feel a hard kick to my shin. Popping my head up, I am about to bitch Cage out when I notice he isn’t looking at me, but staring behind me. I lean forward and speak, barely whispering, to make sure no one else hears.

“Is it her?”

He does a curt nod. “She’s heading to the table behind us. Start small, don’t just jump in about Bentley.”

We start chatting about normal shit. We talk about some fake jobs, the gym, family that no longer exists. Eventually Cage turns the conversation in the direction it needs to be.

“So I have the cabin all ready. Are you sure you want to take Bentley up to the mountains for Christmas though?” he asks. Two more small kicks tell me the name has Darla perking up.

“Yeah, I think it will be nice. I know she’s not a huge fan of the snow but how can she not love being all cozy in a cabin, cuddled up next to the fireplace, drinking her hot chocolate? It’ll be perfect. Maybe even the right time to ask her that question I’ve been meaning to.”

I know that last tidbit will make Darla delirious, the idea of her daughter accepting my proposal, then her taking everything from her. I figure that might be the deciding factor in whether or not she follows me up to the cabin.

Cage gives me another tap, letting me know I have Darla’s full interest, then he continues the ruse. “Well, we can head up to the cabin tonight so you can learn the way without getting lost. The driver will bring Bentley there directly in the morning so it would be good if you’re already there. The place is fully stocked with anything you might need. Though if you’re heading up tonight, you’ll have to leave soon. There’s a storm that’s supposed to be coming in this evening.”

“What about Bentley? Will she be able to get through?” I ask feigning concern.

“Yup, she’s coming up the other side of the mountain, so she’ll be fine. But you could easily lose your way if you get caught in the storm.”

We talk some more about where the cabin is located, and how it’s about an hour up the mountain, but easy to get to if you follow the roads. He practically maps it out for her, making sure she hears every direction.

We head out a short while later, checking out of the hotel, and watching for any signs we’re being followed. I have him duck down in the car so it looks like I’m going up the mountain alone. We are prepared for this trip, buying clothes that can withstand being outside in minus fifty below. I don’t think she would come up tonight, but we have hunting traps set just in case.

There are deer stands set up in the trees about forty feet from the cabin. Cage and I make ourselves comfortable, before taking to our perches. We are both dressed in arctic camo for the weather change and night vision goggles. Over two hours pass before we hear an engine cut. She tries to silently shut the door, but fails in the stillness of the night.

Lifting my goggles, I scope the area to see where she is. Her feet crunch against the snow and I watch as she heads to exactly where I need her. She came alone, which isn’t a shocker. It turns out the man she was with is married, which again is no huge surprise. I hold my breath as I watch her close in on where one of the traps is located. I brace myself as she walks a few more feet. There is a loud snap followed by an ear piercing scream that tells me we’ve caught her.

We both get down and circle around to reach her. Neither of us knows if she is packing and we aren’t up for getting shot. Using the goggles, I find her kneeling on the ground trying desperately to get the trap open.

Several feet away from her is a gun. She is too distracted to hear either of us approach. Picking her gun up, I tossed it over to Cage, who disassembles it and tosses the pieces in different directions. The movement catches Darla’s attention and she scoots up, only to be jolted by the trap, and falls back to the ground screaming.

It’s easy to subdue her from that point, though she tries to scratch and even bite Cage as he ties her hands behind her back. I release her ankle from the trap, knowing she can’t run even if she wants to. The trap has snapped straight through the bone.

I shove a gag in her mouth before Cage drags her into the cabin. Just because no one is within earshot distance to hear her scream, doesn’t mean I am up for hearing it myself. I don’t think Cage wants to hear the bitch either, nor do I want to hear her begging and pleading to be let go.

After getting her in the house, Cage holds her squirming body down while I bind her to a chair. There is satisfaction in knowing the torment this bitch put Bentley through will soon be coming to an end. And even more so knowing it will be coming from me, and that Bentley will never have to be in the position to pull the trigger on her own mother, no matter how much she deserves it.

After a few words with Cage and a promise not to fucking kill her before he gets back, he hops into his truck and pulls away. The person delivering my package will be here a day early, which means I still have two full days with this psycho bitch to plan out every detail of her demise.

Jacob

Tristan gave me a few leads on Bentley, but they all came back as dead ends. I called that buddy of hers, Dante, but he had no idea what she was referring to. It is like a fucking riddle. How could no one know where it all began? Better yet...where what began?

I feel like shit not being able to give him much of a progress report, but when I speak to him, he seems less than concerned. Not that he doesn’t give a shit about finding her, just that with Darla safe and secure he’s not too worried about her safety.  He’s sure eventually she’ll resurface, but I’m not so certain.

After hashing out a plan of attack in her relocation, Tristan reassures me that it’s okay. So I decide to go home for a while. I have a place just a few miles away from my family and it will be nice to see my parents and sister. I make a vow to myself that after the holidays, I’ll start my search again. If she somehow pops back up on the grid in the next two weeks, then I’ll play it by ear. Otherwise, I’m going to spend some needed downtime with the people I love.

Bentley

Stepping inside of the private hospital is surreal. It looks like a fancy spa, not a place where people are sick and either waiting to get better or die. A nurse shows me to my father’s room and lets me know she’ll have the doctor in to see me shortly.

I sit down and face a man I’ve only ever seen in pictures. If he hadn’t been famous, I’d likely never know his name. Though if it hadn’t been famous, I doubt my mother would have chosen him. I feel a small twinge of pain in my chest when I look at all of the tubes and needles sticking out of him. Having spent my fair share of time in emergency rooms, I’ve grown accustomed to needles. Yet it still bothers me when I see them in others.

I pull a chair up next to him and take a seat. Mrs. Anders said he is improving. Not only is he breathing on his own, but that there are movements and reactions to voices around him. I doubt he would react to my voice though since we’ve never spoken. I can’t understand why the man lying in front of me is willing to sign over everything he owns to someone he doesn’t even know. If he wanted a family so badly, why didn’t he just adopt? Why hold onto a novel idea of a daughter he might never have met?

I want to ask him all of these questions. I want to know what he is holding out for. I need him to wake up, to know this man. I have to know why he loves me even though he doesn’t know me. I have so many 'whys,' and just can’t fathom someone going through such an extent for a stranger… blood or not. I just can’t comprehend that kind of devotion.

I hadn’t realized I started talking aloud; I guess I just need to get these questions off of my chest. There is this aching inside of me at the thought that I might never to get know this man. I feel cheated, like he should have fought harder. I know the truth though; had he fought back against my mother, he, I or both of us would be dead.  I’m lost in my own head when a voice coming from behind me startles me.

“It’s healthy to talk to him, although I’m not sure scolding him is the right course of action.”

I wipe a tear away from my eye that had welled up while I was ranting and raving. “Sorry I didn’t mean to. I just have so many questions, so many things I need answers to,” I say before turning around to face him.

I would be lying if I said this man isn’t gorgeous. He’s smiling and his eyes shine like emeralds. If I’d never met Tristan, this man, being so close to me, would have my heart beating twice as fast as normal. The thing is that I’m not the same woman I was before, and seeing him eyeing me only makes me long even more for someone I can’t let myself want.

“Are you Dr. Finn?” I ask.

“I am. Can I ask who you are?”

“I’m sorry,” I say, casting my head down and shaking it slightly, mentally scolding myself for my bad mannerisms. “I’m Bentley Celeste. Marco is my father.”

“I see. Well that explains the erratic behavior. Although I wasn’t aware he had any next of kin. No one was marked in his file.”

“Well I guess that makes sense since I wasn’t aware of our relationship until just a few days ago. I was informed his care is already financially handled, but I would like to look into having him moved. That is if it’s something that won’t hinder his progress. Has there been any progress?” I question, my words coming out at a quick pace, making it difficult to comprehend.

He gives a small laugh and I ease up a bit. Motioning to the chair, I take a seat and turn to where he has seated himself and prepare myself for the worst.

“Your father is showing drastic improvement. In fact, just watching him while you spoke shows improvements. There was eye movement at the sound of your voice, so he must recognize it.”

I shake my head in disagreement. “That isn’t possible. We’ve never met. I’ve never spoken to him before so there’s no way for him to know my voice.”

“I understand, but he recognized you. So he must know your voice from somewhere. We’ve run a vast amount of testing, and honestly there isn’t any real reason why he hasn’t woken back up. His test results show no substantial damage from his heart attack. He did have a lack of oxygen for a few moments before the EMTs were able to get his heart beating again, but his MRIs and CT scans are normal. Your father could wake at any time. He can be moved, though I don’t recommend it as he would still need to be monitored and you’d need a great deal of medical equipment.”

“I see,” I reply. “Well is there anything that can be done to aid him in waking?”

“Right now it’s just a waiting game. Of course I’d be happy to give you any updates on his progress, day or night, if you want to leave your number with me,” he suggests.

I’m not really comfortable with giving this man my number, but he is my father’s private physician and the one person who would know of any changes to my father’s health. I convince myself that he’s a professional and won’t use it for any other reason than my father’s health. After a quick mental debate, I relent and give him my cell number before giving my father’s hand a squeeze and leaving. I hate the uneasy feeling I’m left with as I walk out of the facility. I don’t look back to justify my fears, but my skins crawls with the sensation one gets when being watched.

Heading back to the house, I can’t help feeling like that was a waste of time. Despite the doctor saying he is making progress, I keep wondering if they are milking his treatment for all its worth. I decide to ask Mrs. Anders about it when I get back. Pulling into the drive, there is a car already in front of the house. The sound of voices instantly puts me on edge as I walk inside. I call out to Mrs. Anders who immediately rushes into the foyer.

“Miss. Bentley. I wasn’t expecting you back so soon dear. Is everything okay?”

I feel like I should be asking her that question since she looks like she’s just seen a ghost. “I’m fine Mrs. Anders. The doctor said Marco is making progress and can wake at any time. That’s actually why I came home. I wanted to speak with you about him. Who’s here, Mrs. Anders? There is a car in the drive and I heard another voice.”

“That would be me,” a tall woman with dark features says as she walks into the room.

“And you would be?” I ask.

“Sylvia, Marco’s niece, and who are you?”

“Bentley, Marco’s daughter. Can I ask what you’re doing in my home?” I question, while taking a defensive stand. I feel like I should be welcoming her, and yet instead I find myself wanting to kick her ass out the door.

“Your home? This house belongs to my uncle. You have no business claiming it,” she replies with more attitude than I am in the mood to deal with right now.

“Your uncle gave me power of attorney over him. He also had papers drawn up; signing over his belongs to me because of his declining health. Those papers have already been signed, sealed and delivered. They are binding and since I’m his only living heir, yes it belongs to me and no court of law is going to dispute a legally binding contract. So again, what are you doing here in my home?”