Unfinished Business by Samantha M. Derr

Author:Samantha M. Derr [(Editor), Samantha M. Derr]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: LGBTQ, Romance, Anthology, Paranormal
Publisher: Less Than Three Press, LLC
Published: 2016-10-12T00:00:00+00:00

The Thrill of the ChasE

Cassandra Pierce

OnE

Geordie had done work for well-to-do gentlemen before, including high-ranking politicians and even a blue-blooded college vice-president. His current client's abode, though, took the proverbial seven-tiered designer cake. This guy had sprung for it all: gated entry, uniformed guard who checked for Geordie's name on an appointment list, penthouse, and a glass elevator that seemed to float through the sky, leaving the grime-encrusted streets to the peasants far below. Geordie was glad he'd had the presence of mind to wear his best suit to the interview, though his client probably owned boxer shorts that cost more than his entire outfit put together. He supposed the guy's name, Orville Pennington III, should have tipped him off about what he'd be dealing with. Who else but the spoiled rich had Roman numerals after a five-syllable name, anyway?

A handsome, broad-shouldered guy with a military-style buzz cut but dressed like he was heading for the gym let him in. Geordie wasn't sure if he was The Great Orville's butler, bodyguard, or some combination of both. Whatever he was, Geordie figured that with calf muscles like the ones filling out his yoga pants, the guy could kick some serious ass. Speaking of that, his ass wasn't too bad, either.

"I'm Geordie Chase," he said when the guy just stood in the doorway, looking him up and down. "Mr. Pennington's expecting me."

"I know that. The gate guard already called your name up."

Geordie tried not to feel foolish, even though the guy obviously considered him a simpleton. He was practically rolling his eyes. "Okay. That's cool. Nice to know he's on the ball."

"I'm Rex. His bodyguard." Rex issued the information seemingly as a warning rather than an introduction, but at least he stepped back enough so Geordie could enter. "This way."

Geordie glided through a virtual showroom filled with white leather furniture, spotlessly clean silver rugs, art that looked like it came from a museum, and even stained-glass windows overlooking the city. Through a glass door, a rooftop pool sparkled with bright blue water. The place looked like a movie set created to house some fastidious Bond supervillain.

Without a word, Rex led him down a short hall and into an office space that smelled like citrus aftershave. A gleaming mahogany desk with a high-backed leather chair took up more space than Geordie's entire office had. Small mesh baskets and wooden cubbies held pens, papers, and gold paperclips sorted by size.

"Geordie Chase, Mr. P." Finally, Rex spoke up. At first, Geordie couldn't tell whom he was talking to. Then he saw Orville Pennington III standing in the corner with his arms crossed, taking in a jaw-dropping view of the harbor while a huge maroon drape half-obscured him.

He was a trim man of medium height, probably about sixty, with stiff white hair cut in a generically conservative style. Shallow lines framed his mouth and gave him a vaguely puppet-like look—but it was the look of a scheming, malevolent puppet from a freaky late-night movie, rather than a jovial one from a kids' show.

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