Chapter Three – Kayla #2
Plus, with the way he was talking about the man who lives in this house—Bradford Bentley, I guess. Has the same name as his father, which is weird, but maybe that’s a thing rich people do—I assume Hayden doesn’t like him.
You don’t have to like someone to work for them.
In the end, I don’t say anything else. I get out of the truck and head to the front door, where I ring the doorbell. Behind me, I hear Hayden get out and rummage around the bed of his truck for something, and I try not to pay attention to him or any of the things he told me.
I have to meet Bradford for myself and make my own judgment.
I wait a few moments, maybe even a full minute, and no one comes to answer the door. I try the doorbell again, but nothing comes of it. Just for curiosity’s sake, I try the door handle and I find the large front door is unlocked.
Hmm. It’s rude to stroll into someone’s house, but walking inside would be better than standing out here all day.
If he’s as bad as Hayden says, then I can expect an asshole of a boss.
After meeting his dad, I can see where he would get it from; that rich, haughty attitude that implies they know everything and you know nothing has to be inherited.
I push inside the house, and as I do so, I say, “Hello? Is anyone there?” Gently, I close the door behind me, leaving Hayden outside and therefore giving myself only one thing to worry about: Bradford.
The house is ginormous. It could take forever to find him in here, but I suppose I need to start looking.
Slowly, I wander through the nearby area of the house. The air is a little stale, like the windows haven’t been opened in a while. Still smells better than the apartment I share with Jeremy, but that’s not really saying much.
I check out a room with lots of seating and a giant liquor cabinet, then I find a lounge with a big stone fireplace.
Nothing but nothing. I wander the main hall and wind up in the kitchen area—the biggest kitchen I’ve ever seen.
An island with a beautiful stone countertop that’s bigger than the entire kitchen in our studio apartment.
Seriously, this place is insane, and seeing as how this mansion was just about as big as the rest on this street, I imagine the other homes are grand in much the same way.
What does one do with this much extra space?
A fantastically huge dining room that’s pretty much a hall on its own. A living room area that contains a set of double doors that lead out to the stone patio outside and the immaculate garden beyond, not to mention loads of grass—all of which are apparently now Hayden’s responsibility.
This is crazy to me. I knew I’d feel a bit of culture shock walking into a rich person’s home, but I never imagined it’d look like this. Or make me feel so damn small.
Seriously, I feel like a speck of dust.
I wander into a hallway and come across a study or two. One room has built-in bookcases and books to the ceiling. I’m about to keep investigating this house in my search for Bradford when I duck my head out of the library room and almost run smack-dab into the man himself.
I assume it’s him, anyway.
His reflexes are fast; he’s able to avoid the collision by taking a firm step backward. “Sorry,” I hurriedly say. “I was—” My explanation gets caught in my throat as I bend my head backwards and gaze up at the alpha openly glaring at me.
Not just an alpha. An über, like his father, meaning he’s bigger, stronger, and all around more impressive than your typical alpha.
Well over six feet tall, Bradford Bentley is his father’s son all right, minus twenty or so years.
I’d put him in his forties somewhere. He has the same bold, square jaw as his father, and has that same clean-shaven look.
Unlike his father, his hair is a pure yellow, trimmed short on the sides and just a bit longer on top, meticulously coiffed back.
His eyes are pitch-black, so dark you can’t tell where the pupils begin.
He wears a crisp black suit, even though he’s apparently house-bound.
Instinctively, I breathe him in through my nose, smelling his musky clove scent. He wears a frown on his face; I’d bet anything that’s his typical expression.
He doesn’t look like someone who smiles often, or, you know, ever. Stern and angry is probably his go-to.
“You must be who my father hired to babysit me,” he says with a huff.
Those dark eyes of his take me in, all of me.
My short stature, my clothes, everything about me.
“You’re awfully small for a beta. I can see why my father liked you.
” He doesn’t say anything else; he moves around me and heads deeper into the hall, turning into a room I haven’t yet checked.
Well, that wasn’t how I imagined our introduction would go. What am I supposed to do besides follow him and officially introduce myself?
I go to do just that, and I wind up in what must be his office. Bradford is already sitting behind a beautiful mahogany desk, pretending to be interested in a stack of papers before him. Now that he’s not frowning at me, he looks… bored. Maybe even emotionless.
Huh. I don’t know how to peg this guy just yet.
I stand before his desk and fiddle with my hands, feeling quite awkward. A few moments later, I step closer to the desk and offer him my hand to shake. That’s what normal people do when they’re first introduced, right? Hmm. Then again, I don’t think his father and I shook hands at the interview.
“I’m Mackayla Prim. Kayla is fine.” When I add that last part, those black eyes of his are slow to lift and stare daggers at me. Just like that, his emotionless exterior is gone.
“I don’t care what your name is,” he says under his breath. “You’re here because I literally have no choice in the matter. So do, or don’t do, whatever you want. I don’t give a shit.” He shakes his head and mutters, “I’m done giving a shit.” He obviously does not go to shake my outstretched hand.
I drop my hand to my side. That awkward feeling sure isn’t going away. Hayden definitely hit the nail on the head when it comes to this guy. The last thing he radiates is nice energy. And when those black eyes of his are on you? They make you want to shrink up into a ball of nothing and disappear.
“I’m supposed to write you a summary of what I get done each day,” he says.
“Like I’m a child that needs constant supervision—supervision my father does not want to deal with himself.
” His fingers tap the papers on his desk.
He no longer looks straight at me, instead staring off at the corner of the room, like I’m not even there.
“How insulting, but I suppose I get what I deserve for doing what I did.”
“What did you do?”
That hard stare of his snaps back in my direction. “You mean to say you took this job without knowing the full picture?” He scoffs. “Not surprising. I’m sure my father is paying you extremely well.”
Last night, my brother was too busy talking about his plan for me and this position.
Plus with how early I had to wake up to make it to the bus and have plenty of time left over to walk here…
we simply ran out of time. In hindsight, I should have investigated him more before blindly accepting the job.
“Very well. If you really want to know,” Bradford goes on as he leans back in his leather chair. “The entire reason you’re here, the reason I can’t leave this godforsaken house, is the monitor wrapped around my left ankle.”
I figured it was some sort of house arrest situation, but that doesn’t tell me what he did to earn that ankle monitor.
Since he comes from a family with money, it could be anything.
Something that would normally land a poor person in prison, a rich jerk could hire the best lawyers around and get off with a slap on the wrist.
Or an ankle monitor.
I stand there, waiting to hear the rest of the story. I’d be lying if I say I’m not nervous to hear it. With the ankle monitor on him, it means the local law enforcement will check in on him. I’m safe here… aren’t I?
He continues, “And the reason I have this ankle monitor cuffed around me like a shackle is because I made the mistake of not fully looking into a situation before I acted.” He grinds his jaw. “I had the omega mate of one of my rivals kidnapped and brought to me, along with his beta nephew.”
My eyes widen at his confession. The way he said it, so off-handedly, as if he was mentioning a bad sports bet or something else, is kind of insane.
Kidnapping? Kidnapping two people? It’s a miracle he’s not in prison.
No wonder his father wants to keep an eye on him but is too pissed off to do it himself.
“I was never planning on hurting them. I simply wanted Gideon to sign over Chase Jewels.” Bradford shakes his head and sighs.
“As soon as he agreed to sign over the company to me, I would have returned them promptly. What I did not realize was that Gideon had made a friend. The man was always like me in that respect: a shut-in, a loner. That friend worked for Alabaster Security and the rest is history.”
My mouth is suddenly dry. I need water. I need something.
Water’s my go-to, since it’s zero calorie.
Even so, I find myself asking, “Why did you want Chase Jewels so badly?” Chase Jewels is another high-end company who releases items I’ll never hope to afford, even if I keep this job longer than two weeks.
But Chase Jewels is, well, jewelry and such, while Alpha Life is clothing, so I don’t get it.
“Not me. My father. My father has always wanted to buy out Chase Jewels, and after a lifetime of disappointing him, I thought I finally had the trump card it would take to get Gideon to sell.” Bradford smirks at that, although he doesn’t smirk at me.
Once again, he stares off into space, like he sees right through me.
“And now I will be paying for this mistake every day.”
Knowing he resorted to kidnapping is… not a comforting thought, but it’s not like I have anywhere to go, other chances like this. Nope. Unfortunately, I’m stuck here for now.
“Your presence here is yet another reminder of my failure. I mean, look at you.” That far-off look on his face disappears as he glares at me once more.
“The most unimpressive, unassuming beta with probably not a lick of experience. My father chose you because someone like you would be the most insulting.”
I should be mad at everything he’s saying. If I had any pride, I’d storm out and quit this job right now, but pride is something that was taken out of me young. I’m not proud. I’m just… me, and in this situation, I’m pretty much as helpless as the über alpha across from me.
So, after his little explanation, all I can say is, “I’m sorry.”
Apparently, out of all of the things I could’ve said, an apology was not something he anticipated. His blond brows furrow as he glares at me. “You’re… sorry?” I can’t tell if he thinks I’m trying to pull a fast one over on him or he’s just confused.
“Yeah,” I say with a shrug, “I am. I can understand feeling like you have to do whatever you have to to keep the ones around you happy. I only met your father briefly, but he didn’t seem like the kind of man anyone ever says no to or dares to disappoint.”
No, in fact, I bet it was difficult for Bradford to grow up with a father like that.
“And yet I’ve been his eternal disappointment since the day I was born,” he mutters.
I take another small step toward the desk. “I don’t want to step on your toes, or your father’s. I don’t want to get in the way. It’s true I don’t have much experience in a position like this, but I’m going to do my best. What, um… what would you like me to do?”
What is my first important task for the disgraced Bradford Bentley? Fetching him a fresh cup of a coffee.