Page 8 of A Man of Wealth

He presses his thumb to a cabinet door and it pops open, revealing car keys neatly hung on hooks. He grabs one and hits the unlock button on the fob. He keeps his cars locked in his garage on this property. This man has some serious trust issues.

I glance at the car that just beeped and my jaw drops. He tosses me the fob. Maybe I was wrong about the trust issues.

“You want me to drive that?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

The car in question is a McLaren. It’s sleek and black and worth more money than my crappy one-bedroom condo in D.C.

“You do know how to drive stick, yes?” he asks raising his own eyebrow. What. An. Asshole.

I open the door and get in, running my hand along the steering wheel. This car is going to be fun to drive. I turn on the car. The garage door in front of us opens, although I’m not sure how that was activated as I haven’t even moved the car yet.

“Where exactly are we going?” I inquire as I glance over at him.

He strokes his nicely trimmed beard. “I’ve lost my motherfucking mind, so we’re going to my father’s shipyard.”

“I’m sorry, what? Like, right now?” My grip on the steering wheel tightens as I realize he’s actually going to go with me. This could be my big story break. I’m not sure if I should trust him, yet a part of me does, and I have no idea why.

He smirks and leans forward over the center console. “You wanted to go. I’m taking you. I’ve had a drink and don’t feel like driving, so guess who’s driving us?”

I point to myself.

“Bingo. Maybe you are smarter than I thought.”

I glare at him. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

He shrugs as he leans back in his seat. “I never claimed not to be an asshole, now, did I? I was going to check this out myself, but since you seem to be onto the same fact pattern as I am, I suppose, on this one issue, we can join forces.”

“Oh, we can ‘join forces’?” I raise an eyebrow, and it’s returned with a look of death from Conner. How can a man I loathe be so fucking sexy when he’s pissed? Couldn’t the universe have made him a troll, so I could keep hating him and also not find him attractive?

“What are you waiting for? Tick-tock, Vivienne. My offer expires in a minute unless you get us out of here. And you should hurry, because if you don’t, my security may follow us,” he adds with a wink. Fuck. Now I have to worry about being followed by good guys and bad guys. Just fucking perfect.

“Hold on,” I say, returning his wink with one of my own as I peel out of the garage and down his long driveway.

“Whoa!” he yelps as his hand comes down hard on my thigh and grips it tightly. I let off the gas a little and look over at him. He leaves his hand there for a long moment, and I can’t say I hate it.

“What? If you didn’t want me taking full advantage of driving a car like this, then you should have handed over the keys to the beast you drove to the bar,” I explain as I drive us down his street, slowing so the gate can open once we reach the main road. He slowly peels his fingers off me, and I immediately miss the heat of his hand.

“Do you know where to go?” he asks.

I nod. “At this time of night, it shouldn’t take more than an hour to get there…or less,” I add with a grin as I floor it.

I glance over and find him grinning a little. Boys.

“Care to tell me why you think that my father’s shipping company is somehow involved in alleged crimes?” he asks as I take an on-ramp onto I-95.

“Like I said, I saw some documents.” Is he messing with me? He should know the answer to his own question. I feel like I’m being tested and I don’t fucking like it.

“And is this going to be part of some article published this week inThe Tribune?”

I groan. “No.” I pause because I, unlike some people, don’t lie, well, mostly not. “It may be part of an investigative piece that I publish, eventually, but it’s nowhere near done yet.”

“Good. I’ll help you this once, but you have to promise that anything I say to you is confidential and off the record,” he states. This once? I’m still shocked he’s helping me at all. He must want answers as badly as I do, hell, maybe even more.

I look over at him. “Fine.” I don’t like agreeing to this, but maybe I can get him to come around later. Interviewing Conner Sterling would bring a certain dynamic to my story. Conner is a bit of an enigma, or at least that’s what I’m learning. After this evening, I might just hate him a little less, at least for now.

Chapter5

Conner

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