Alphahole (Billionaire Boss Girl Book 3) by Ann Grech

Author:Ann Grech [Grech, Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-18T00:00:00+00:00

Twelve

Zali

My gut twisted as we drove past Benedict’s compound in our Tesla rental, slowing down so we could scope it out. I was in the middle, pressed between Tristan and Flynn, and I normally loved it there, but right now I had a hand pressed low on my belly, trying to stop the cramp.

I couldn’t see much except that the white iron gates were closed. The privacy granted by the gardens surrounding the fence would hide anyone trying to scale it, but it was high enough that it wouldn’t be an easy task.

“Can we get the gate open?” I asked, not particularly wanting to have to Spiderman it in.

“Ry or I will be able to get over it. It’s likely got cameras connected to it, though, so we won’t have the element of surprise if we do,” Ezra answered, his voice contemplative.

The house was hidden behind a lush tropical garden that was junglelike in its density. A smooth concrete drive wound through the property, disappearing around a bend in the dappled sunlight cast by the towering trees. That element of surprise would come in handy if Benedict took off and we had to go searching for him in the jungle. There were too many places he could disappear into and not enough of us to find him easily.

It wasn’t only the land that we had to be concerned about either. The compound took prime position on a picturesque beach. The water was too shallow for a boat of any size to be kept there, but there were plenty of marinas nearby where larger yachts were moored, making for an easy ocean escape should Benedict need it.

We were staying close—two doors up from Benedict’s house to be exact. Our holiday rental was owned by Benedict’s next-door neighbour, but she rented it for short-term accommodation for the rich and famous. The pictures I’d seen so far didn’t do the landscape or the houses justice. I couldn’t wait to see whether ours was the same.

This stretch of coastline wasn’t famous for its tourists if the surprised looks on the locals’ faces at the markets were anything to go by. The quiet fishing village was quaint, and the socio-economic differences between the residents and the billionaires who’d slowly been encroaching on the local beaches obvious. There were more privatized beaches now than public ones from what we could see, longer stretches of sand and hectares of land in lush forest gardens locked behind high fences, like the one Benedict owned.

Ez kept driving, picking up a little bit of speed as he passed Benedict’s neighbour’s house and the one we were staying in before he slowed again, pulling into the slate stone driveway of our temporary home. Like the other houses, lush gardens were planted along the road, creating a privacy barrier and almost entirely blocking out the minimal amount of noise that would be heard along the quiet street.

But once we passed the barrier gardens, the grounds opened up to a breathtaking scene. Palm trees dotted the wide lawns, and sand drifts danced along the drive.

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