When he’s in all-business mode, it does something to me. It’s almost like I’m seeing him in his most intimate moments. His brows are drawn together, and they have this permanent crease between them as he fumbles with something on his iPad. Every so often, his plump lips move as he mumbles to himself, most likely reading his emails and storing the information.
After nearly catching me in a lie outside of his security hub, then being whisked off to San Francisco on his private jet a few days ago, Baz and I have grown closer. I think, now, I’ve built his trust. Though, that could just be wishful thinking on my end. He has no reason to think my motives for being here are unethical. No malfeasance detected on my end. Other than the fact that I never did give him the name of my fake ex.
What else was I supposed to do? The story I told was a fake one. I didn’t want to risk giving him a fake name, and it ends up being some poor guy Baz did something to that neither of us can take back. Just because I don’t think he’s capable of being dangerous, doesn’t mean he isn’t.
How do I know he won’t try to look for my “ex”? And if he does find a name that matches, will he try to reach out to this person? Harm this person on my behalf? I don’t want to think that highly of myself or toot my own horn, but it’s a possibility. And I can’t take that risk.
“How often do you travel? What with having a chain of Kings Resorts. Is hard splitting your time here in LA and everywhere else you’re needed?”
“Way more than I’d like to. But I’ve gotten used to it. Before, when the chain was first expanding, it took a lot out of me.”
“Not anymore?”
“It still does, but now I look forward to it. I want the Kings Resorts to outlast my lifetime and be able to pass it on to my children. To ensure that, I need everything to run smoothly. That means doing all the heavy lifting now.”
“Wow. So you want a family? Didn’t take you for the type.”
He scoffs. “I’m not.”
Okaaaaay.
“Why resorts? How did you end up … here?” I look around for emphasis.
He smirks. “I dabble in other ventures, not just resorts.”
“Ah, right. The club. Anything else I’m missing here?”
Baz shrugs, still tapping away, working. “Nightclubs, restaurants, resorts. That’s about as far as my reach goes. For now.”
My brows jump. “You’re very confident.”
He shoots me a smirk. “I know what I’m good at.”
“Oh.” I laugh. “I’m sure you do. What are your parents like? Is your father some mogul?”
“You can say that. My mom’s family came from money in Brazil. My grandfather, Tobias Kingston married my mom’s mother, Julia Teixeira. My grandfather owned abunch of land here in the states, so he split his time between his new family in Brazil and his work here in the US. It was sort of like history repeating itself with my mother and my father. They met while he was down in Brazil doing business, still trying to make a name for himself. My mother fell instantly, and well, the rest is pretty much history.
I think my father always felt like he had something to prove to my mother’s family. Especially to my grandfather, Tobias. He was a millionaire, and my dad was just some poor shmuck who was trying to show everyone what he was made of. Hee had to work for all his success. Sometimes, he pushed too hard to prove himself, and when I was younger, I didn’t see it. I always viewed him as a dick for never seeing any of the good I did. But now, I get he was trying to make me work for it. He didn’t hand down a thing to me. I worked at the firm for years until it hit me that I didn’t want to follow in his footsteps. I wanted to surpass him. And I have. The sky’s the limit.”
“Are you close to them? Your parents, I mean?”
“We see each other during the holidays, but we all have our own lives to live and businesses to run. They understand that.”
I shift upright, more intrigued by this man and his past than ever. “You know, you’re as interesting as they come, Mr. King.”
“So I’ve heard,” he quips dryly.
We sit in silence for another stretch of time while he works, and I continue my perusal of him. His tanned skin, fit chest, and the sharp, angular lines of his face. After I brushed my crush on Baz under the rug all those years ago, my sights were always so set on Trent that I never paid much attention to the rest of the guys in the group.
I want to ask him what happened with his old girlfriend, Summer. They were together in high school for years. What happened that last summer in Ferndale? It seems like that’s the catalyst. That’s when everything good in the town went to shit. That summer felt like the beginning of the end.
“What were you like when you were younger?” My voice slices through the silence.
He pulls his eyes away from the screen to glance at me. He pauses for a second, his brows dipping into a frown as he thinks about his past.
“I was idiotic. Just as most teenagers are.”
“Hordes of girlfriends, I presume?”
He chuckles. “You could say that.”
“Hmm.” I shift on my elbows and lick my lips nervously, preparing myself to ask this next question. “Have you always … uh, shared girls with your friends?”
If I weren’t paying close attention, I would’ve missed it. The tightening of his features, and how his body went taut with tension. It seems my line of questioning has struck a nerve.
I haven’t broached the topic of the club and what happened up there. To anyone, it’d be obvious that he and his friends share women. Why else invite that many women and discuss rules so openly? I’ve never had the courage to ask about any of it. Until now.
“You sure your journalism piece isn’t on me?” he taunts, raising a brow. The color drains from my face, and I cough, choking on my lies, trying to shake it off.
“Of course not. I’m just curious. I want to get to know you.”
He seems appeased by my answer, or, at the very least, he’s distracted by his work.
“We don’t always share girls. It was more when we were kids.”
I purse my lips. Duly noted.
“And now?” I ask.
He drops his iPad on the bed and shoots me a look. Obviously, my questions are either annoying him or they’re becoming too invasive.
“Do you want to be shared with my friends?” He no longer looks happy with my curiosity.
“God no!” I blurt.
I realize my missed opportunity as soon as I react. Sharing them would mean getting close to the rest of the guys, but … just the thought of their hands on my body makes my skin crawl. I should feel the same way toward Baz, but I don’t. He’s not like the rest of them, and I need to prove that. If not to myself, then at the very least, I need to prove it to my sister.
When I think back on all the bad that came from our hometown, I can’t remember Sebastian being a part of any of those memories. He was there the night of the bonfire, but that night, he supposedly went home because the next day he was off for the Pierce’s yearly family vacation in Brazil. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. I mean, maybe he wasn’t there when Madison died. Maybe the guys kept it a secret from him for all these years, and he has no idea who they really are. But a small voice in the back of my head that sounds so much like Madison keeps whispering that it’s not true.