15 Bronson

“Mr. Bronson will be down shortly.” I hear Rand speaking downstairs to whom I’m assuming is Nicole.

I don’t hear a reply but step forward from my home office and step into the hallway upstairs. Rand takes a few steps and greets me in the middle. I’m far enough away that Nicole cannot see me, but close enough that I can see the back of her hair as she looks around my living quarters.

“Sir?” Looking over at Rand and his confused glare I stand straighter, unaware that he was speaking to me.

“What was that?”

“I said she’s here sir.”

“Yes, I see that. How did she take it.” I state, my eyes going back down to where she is continuing to look though my books along my bookcase on the wall beside the fireplace.

“She’s a firecracker, didn’t trust me one bit, even came up with some plan and made herself look like a true homeless person in order to win me over. She’s been conning people a while, that much I can tell.”

I say nothing, just stare down the stairs that lead me to Miss Myers.

“Sir.” Looking back over at Rand, I notice his eyes narrow done the stairs with dread. “Please be careful. She’s smart, untrustworthy, but something made her get inside our SUV, and I don’t think it was plain curiosity.”

Nodding my head, I turn back to the stairs and slowly make my way down them. It’s late, nearly ten o’clock, but I suddenly feel wide awake, more alert than I have ever been before.”

My feet hit the final step, a loud echo of my foot hitting the wood flooring alerts Nicole that I am behind her. Her head swivels around, making her eyes immediately connect with mine. Her eyes widen, and look me up and down, the same way she did when I first saw her Saturday night at the charity event.

“So, you do exist.” She states flatly, but I see past her sarcasm, past her guarded heart. She’s vulnerable, on uneven grounding, and Rand is right, she is here for a reason.

“I do.”

“And why exactly did you need me hear? You could have just had your goon deliver a message.”

“And what message do you assume I would deliver?” I ask, then make my way to the kitchen. I need alcohol and I need it now. Something about her is causing me to feel less of myself and I need grounding.

I return with two tumblers of bourbon, I hand her one at which she does not drink from then move further into the study and take a seat at one of the armchairs beside the fireplace indicating with my hand for her to do the same. After what seems like forever, Nicole takes her seat, her glass remains untouched in her hands.

“Well?”

“You wanted me to explain why I am who I am, why I do the things that I do. You don’t want to go to the cops about me.” She stares at me then cocks her head to the right while smirking all the same. “Or you would have done that already. So, tell me, what exactly do you want from me Bronson Fortworth?”

A trap. That’s what her voice suddenly turning soft and subdued means. She wishes for me to flat out say why she is here inside my home. She needs me to explain to her exactly what my plans are for her, but the truth is, I don’t have a single clue why she is here. I have no reasoning for bringing her here other than my sudden obsession.

“The truth?” She shrugs her shoulders and finally takes a sip of her drink. If it’s too strong, she doesn’t show it, her face just remains stoic, beautiful. “I don’t know. I have no idea why I wanted you here. I supposed I could say I wanted to meet the person that saved my life, to thank you and to perhaps, if you’re interested, to offer you something in return.”

“Offer me what?” Her voice is serious once again, the playful sarcastic side vanishes as she sits up straight and abandons her drink. She’s defense, and I haven’t decided if she has every right to be or not.

“An opportunity.” She lifts an eyebrow and I smirk. How strange this moment is, and yet, I don’t think I would change it for anything. “I want you to move in with me.”