Page 21 of One Wild Ride

EIGHT

Alexander

“Congratulations, Mr. Hawthorne,you are the proud owner of the Haute Tower at 26 East Lake Street in Chicago Illinois,” the man in the gray, oversized suit said as he sat across the conference table from me.

I stared at him in disbelief. How did I not know this? My lawyer never said a word to me. When Aria told me last Tuesday I didn’t believe her. I mentioned wanting time to consider her sketches for the mural and told her I would call her when I was ready.

I spent the week since making phone calls and researching what I could. Most everyone gave me the run around when I asked them about the building. I finally told my lawyer he would be fired if he didn’t tell me the truth. He repeated over and over again that he needed to see the lease to verify if anything had been changed.

So, I faxed it to him. When he called back, he told me that nothing had changed and my mother still owned the building but he did notice a small typo that might have thrown me off. Other than that, nothing had changed.

“Are you sure it’s not a typo?” I asked leaning forward, resting my elbows on the smooth wooden table. The windows behind the man were dark and I caught my reflection in the glass. It looked like I hadn’t slept in days. Probably because I hadn’t.

Between my mother giving in so easily with the mural and the lease stating I owned the tower, my world felt upside down. Causing old issues to rear their controlling head. Aria wasn’t far off when she stated I was a crazy recluse.

The door opened and a petite woman with short black hair walked in. She stared at me and something about her seemed familiar. She placed a water bottle in front of me and Mr. Reed.

“Thank you, Grace.” He smiled up at her but her eyes were glued to me.

She scurried out before I could ask if I knew her. I shook my head and turned back to Mr. Reed.

“No, I don’t see any typos. Your name is repeated not just in this paragraph, which states ownership, but in several other points throughout this contract. It’s actually an Emma Hawthorne that leases the penthouse from you.”

My mother.

“How long have I owned it? Can you tell if this is a recent change?”

He brought the paper close to his face and lifted his glasses. “The last change to this lease was dated five years ago. Before that I wouldn’t know and would have to see the previous documents to answer further.”

She lied to me. My mother has been lying all this time. I knew she was cruel and controlling and even manipulated my image to the public, but I thought she was at least honest with me about my inheritance. Based on how little my father wanted to do with me I figured she was right when she said he left me almost nothing.

“If you have no further questions, Mr. Hawthorne, it’s after hours here at Mimir and I would like to go home to my wife for dinner.” Mr. Reed, the property lawyer for the online retail giant, Mimir, pushed the contract back to me as I waved for him to go.

“I’ll let your wife know we are done in here,” he said as he made his way out of the room.

I was still in too much shock to correct his marital views about Aria.

After a few moments, there was movement from the door behind me. “Well, how did it go? Is that your second penis or not?” Aria said as her sweet scent drifted around and she took a seat next to me.

“Huh?” I said as I glanced over to her warm mocha eyes. I think I smiled, too.

Even if the first few times meeting Aria were chaotic, it felt good to finally have someone I could trust to talk to. After she left last week, I picked up her sketch book, the one she scrawled her phone number on, and I picked up my phone. I wanted to hear her voice, tell her everything but one word stopped me.

Crazy.

Those rumors about me being a crazy recluse who pays to hang out with women, it’s all true.

Aria wrinkled her nose causing my smile to widen. “Do you own the building?”

She formed a circle with her hands and moved them up and down like she was giving a hand job to an abnormally large penis, “You know, phallic-shaped buildings. Ohh, yeah, I do love me some building. That’s it, baby, work my building.”

I grabbed her wrists stopping her and glanced around to make sure her friend, Evaleen, the one who let us use Mimir’s lawyer and conference room, didn’t walk in.

“Jesus, Aria. What are you, a teenager?”

“No, I’m twenty-nine but in my heart, I’m a horny eighteen-year-old.” She winked at me.

My cock went hard instantly. The way she was so casual and free with sex and her artistic talent . . . she made me want to do things to her body I only fantasized about. Things that she might not like.

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