Page 39 of Secret Admirer
Will nodded and walked out of the conference room toward the hall.
Bart handed the contract to his lawyers and headed downstairs to where his driver waited.
Thoughts of Rebecca intruded--he would take her somewhere nice to celebrate the contract.
His driver dropped Bart and Will off at a lab he’d rented for Will near the University of Miami. He gave the young guy a tour and at the end, Will rubbed his hands together. “This is exciting.”
"I couldn't agree more." Bart walked him toward a laptop and opened a program with the Morgan name on it. “Whatever else you might need, can be ordered through this program. I'll be in touch soon--you will have an assistant to handle paperwork so you can focus on your studies. I’ll ensure he or she is a good editor for when you submit to the research journals.”
“Perfect. Goodbye, Mr. Morgan.” Will stared around the lab like he’d just walked into paradise.
Bart understood that feeling because that was how he felt around Rebecca.
He left Will in the lab and returned to his driver. The driver held his door for him and Bart asked, “Where did Rebecca have you drop her off?”
“She took a hired car.” His driver closed the door.
Bart’s skin tingled. This wasn’t good--maybe he hadn't been clear to her about her safety now that she was with him. He waited till the driver took his seat and asked, “She didn’t ask you?”
The driver turned the car on and said, “No, but I can bring you to where she went, sir.”
“Excellent.” Bart settled into his seat.
He checked his tablet for news and updates. His lawyers had filed the contract so everything was now official with Will. But then the driver took a broken side street that made the car jiggle. He put his tablet down. If this car didn't have excellent struts, he’d feel every bounce. The driver stopped in front of a garage with a line of cars waiting for work. His brow furrowed as he looked around but didn't see Rebecca. “Where are we?”
“James’ Garage.” The driver's voice held no inflection.
Every cell in his body grew alert and adrenaline pushed through his veins. Rebecca’s last name. Bart peered out the tinted window and saw Rebecca step into the garage from the office and hug an older man holding a wrench above a car with an open hood. Then they both leaned over the engine and Rebecca reached into the engine like she knew what she was going. He’d asked what she did for a living, and she'd avoided the question. That in itself was a falsehood. She’d lied about what she did. His entire body clenched. “Take me back to the hotel.”
“As you wish, sir.” The driver headed down the bumpy road.
Bart’s stomach twisted as he tried to make sense of what he'd just seen.
Why hadn’t she told him? What was she hiding? Why?
Was it because he was a Morgan, and she had grown up poor? Had she targeted him to gain his fortune? In his quest to not be his father, had he found a woman so different that he'd pushed himself too far? But why had she not told him the truth when he'd asked?
The Rebecca he liked was forthright about everything and had confidence in her handshake--yet she'd refused to answer what should have been a simple question.
So what else had she lied about?
And why had he thought she was the type that wouldn’t lie to him?
His instinct was right that everyone always did. The driver returned him to the hotel and he signed the contract for the house. He'd wanted to share it with Rebecca. He headed to the bar on the first floor and bought himself a bottle of red wine for the room.
He sat on the balcony overlooking the ocean and let the sun and humidity warm his skin and hopefully relax his tight shoulders.
He sipped the wine--never drinking too much--yet questions continued to spin in his head.
Until the door creeped open in the room behind him.
He turned toward the sound. Rebecca shuffled in wearing a red dress he’d bought her--at the garage, she'd worn jeans. He made a noise so she turned toward him, and he pushed the seat next to him in invitation.
She joined him on the balcony and he poured her a glass while she sat down beside him. He handed it to her and the tension he’d felt in the car returned instantly while he asked, “Rebecca, how was your father?”
She sipped her wine and leaned back in her chair like she had nothing to worry about as she said, “He was happy to see me.”
He inched toward the edge of his seat and studied her when he asked, “Did you tell him where you’re staying or who you're dating?”
