Chapter Eight

Beckett

 

Breaking the law was never something that bothered me. Laws were put in place to keep order, to maintain balance so that people were not rioting wild in the streets. But there were some wrongs that could not be made right within the law. My parents deaths were one of them. The criminals who knew just enough about the legal system or who had access to mob lawyers found loopholes, well, so did I. I did what I had to do to stop men like that from hurting more people, and I needed to maintain my secret identity to do it. So why was I so conflicted about the woman I kept locked away?

Ella James. I needed to know more about her, I needed to know everything. Maybe if I could gain her trust, she would keep my secret. And if she couldn’t be trusted, maybe I could find something to use against her to keep her quiet.

There was something else that disturbed me about her presence in my home. I lay in bed at night, staring at the wall, knowing that nearby she was mine. Not willingly, but there was a beautiful woman that I had stolen away from the world. I felt the thrill of possession, the desire to own and conquer her. I wanted to claim her in dark, forceful ways that I never let any woman know lurked inside me. But most of all, I felt ashamed. I kept her and dreamt about all the things I would do to her soft body while her poor boyfriend was probably sick with worry about her.

I sat on the couch with my laptop, glass of scotch at my side. I snuck in her room early this morning before she woke up to leave her more water and food, stopping for a few minutes to watch her sleeping. I felt like a monster as I let my eyes travel along the contours of her resting body, the smooth curve of her hips and breasts, her creamy soft skin, until I left the room thoroughly disgusted with myself for even thinking she would let me touch her after what I had done to her.

That was this morning, before the hours ticked past to late afternoon and with the sun hanging low in the sky. I had a bit of time to kill on research before my dinner reservation tonight. I agreed to take the redhead Melanie out, dinner and drinks at an exclusive lounge. As a result of Ella being thrust into my space I had too much pent up sexual energy and I needed an outlet or I was going to explode. But before I could focus on Melanie, I wanted to figure out Ella.

She was a reporter for the Review-Journal and had been on staff for a few months. Their staff directory also listed a Seth who covered sports. I glanced at his profile and realized this must be her boyfriend. He wasn’t a bad looking guy, brown hair and an all-American look to him. Still, she could do better.

Ella’s articles were always well researched, digging deeper than the bare facts to make larger connections to social issues. I had to admire that, the stubborn tenacity that drove her. The last article she filed before I took her was the one about my donation. I opened it up and read it with curiosity. There at the top was the photo she had taken; that moment came rushing back. Ella tripping, me catching her. Holding her for a moment, the weight of her small body against mine and the sweet scent of her hair. As I read her article, I held my glass of scotch a bit tighter and narrowed my eyes.

“In a city where justice can often be bought and sold to the highest bidder, one has to pause at the motivations of noted billionaire Beckett Carter contributing $500,000 to the Las Vegas Police Department in addition to the operating budget funded by the state and taxpayers. Details have not yet emerged how these funds will be used, however, when asked about his motive in light of rising crime in the city despite a fully funded police force, Mr Carter expressed; ‘Crime is like a virus, it’s a constant struggle. Our police service is helping to heal this city from the inside out.’ If Mr. Carter is correct and crime truly is like a virus, leading to the assumption that donations like his are a cure, it might be cautious not to rely on a solution that may have more unintended side-effects than our city can stomach.”

Ella came into my office to get a straightforward quote and be on her way, but what she left with was a piece heavy with insinuation that I had ulterior motives for my donation. She really was a shrewd reporter, and I had no doubt that as soon as I let her leave she was going to expose me in a very public way. I sighed and took a large gulp of my drink, letting it burn on the way down. She may be contained now, but in a few weeks Ella was going to become a giant pain in my ass. I needed something on her. I needed leverage.

Luckily I had bought access to a variety of private databases from medical records to court documents, all useful for when I was researching criminals but now helpful in taking a closer look at Ella. Software protected my IP address keeping my searches undetectable, I could slip in and out of any files I wanted. With a few clicks, I could know everything about her, and the search results didn’t disappoint. As I read more and more, a picture started to take shape. My anger towards her began to cool and fade, turning instead to sympathy. Ella hadn’t had an easy life.

Her parents died in a car crash when she was ten and her older sister Dana was fifteen. They had no other family so they ended up in foster care for three years until Dana was old enough to get a job and take care of both of them. According to police records Dana worked as a high-price escort to support herself and her little sister. When Ella started journalism school, Dana went missing and was never found. No body, no trail, the world just swallowed her up never to be seen or heard from again.

Ella received scholarships for her writing with a focus on women’s issues, and after school came to Las Vegas to work for the local paper covering the crime beat. Las Vegas also seemed to be the last place her sister was seen, which I was sure was no coincidence. Ella didn’t use social media and seemed to lead a very private life, paying rent on a small one room apartment in town. Her emails were mainly focused on work, with the exception of a private detective she had scraped money together to pay to look into her missing sister. He gave her a partial refund after coming up empty handed.

I ran my hand over my face then through my hair, feeling conflicted. As a reporter who could blow apart the life I had built for myself, she was my enemy. But as a person living in this unfair world, bearing the scars of a hard life, I could understand her struggle to find things that were wrong and make them right. She used her words, I used bullets and fists, but when you stripped all of that away we wanted the exact same thing. And dammit, a part of me wanted her even more for it. Her phone buzzed and I picked it up, noticing two missed texts from Seth.

You’re taking off and blowing me off? This was supposed to be our first date Ella, what changed your mind?

Ella call me when you’re back. I want to talk.

I cocked my head to the side. First date? So this wasn’t her boyfriend, Ella had lied to me. Between this and the article she wrote about me, there was nothing that convinced me she should be trusted. She was tricky, and if I let my guard down that woman was going to take full advantage. I’d have to be an idiot to believe anything she said. I tipped back my glass and drained the last bit of scotch, getting to my feet and heading for the door. There was only one woman I should be thinking about right now, and that was my date for the night.

***

I was sitting at the bar, fresh scotch in a glass, scanning the room. Melanie was late, about ten minutes. One of the games women play, never be early or right on time to not seem too eager. I could play along, being alone never bothered me. I was here with her to be seen, to maintain my reputation as the billionaire playboy, and if I was in the mood later maybe I’d fuck her. I was wound so tight the release would probably do me good.

A manicured hand landed on my shoulder and I turned to my side to see Melanie wearing a tight red strapless dress that showed off her figure, a pendant necklace dangling low and drawing the eye to her full breasts.

“Hey stranger,” she said softly then leaned forward to kiss me on the cheek.

“You look amazing,” I told her.

Melanie smiled and I gestured to the waiter we were ready. I walked to our table and she followed me. I pulled out her chair and she lowered herself gracefully, then I took the seat across from her.

“Champagne?”

She nodded, and the waiter left to get us a bottle. If our last date was any indication, Melanie got horny when she drank. Suits me just fine.

“I was worried you weren’t going to call me again,” she smiled at me from across the table.

“Now why would you think that?”

“Because you’re always out with different women Beckett Carter. You seem to be always looking for a good time, nothing more.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Is there a problem with that?”

Melanie shook her head slowly.

“Good.” The waiter returned and popped the cork, pouring us each a glass of champagne and placing the bottle in a bucket of ice. “We’re both here, let’s enjoy ourselves tonight and not worry about anything beyond that.”

I picked up my menu and scanned the list as she did the same. I tried to keep my mind firmly rooted here, in this dimly lit lounge where slow sensual music played over the speakers and the well-dressed patrons talked in low voices as we drank our overpriced drinks and ate our overpriced food. Melanie made small talk and I nodded or offered a word here and there to keep the conversation going, but she did most of the talking and I didn’t mind in the least. My body was here, but I kept thinking of Ella. Of the woman trapped and locked away in my penthouse. Watching the door, pacing the room and waiting. Just waiting.

“That was delicious,” Melanie sighed as they cleared away our plates. I blinked, snapped out of my train of thought. “You know,” she purred. “We could always get dessert to go, take it back to your place. Or mine.”

I waved over the waiter and held out my card.

“Not tonight Melanie.”

She sat straighter, surprised and clearly disappointed.

“Why not?” Under the table she slowly ran her leg against mine. “I promise you, it will be fun.”

I paused, my libido and conscience wrestling inside me. Ella really was disrupting my life, and now she was so distracting I was turning down a sure thing. I looked at Melanie. “I have something I need to do. Another night.”

She dropped back in her chair, her lips twisted, and nodded. I paid the bill and escorted her out into a taxi, then got into a taxi headed home. I drummed my fingers restlessly against the seat the entire drive, alcohol and something else running through my veins. Something dark, something with the desire to grab and take. I didn’t know what I would do when I saw Ella, but I wanted to see her. Maybe seeing her would be enough to get this out of my system.

I tossed cash at the driver and rushed for the elevator, up to my penthouse. I pulled off my tie and loosened my collar, pacing the room like an animal restless for a hunt. I had never felt this way about a woman and I was scared of how far I might go. How far I wanted to go. Could I even seduce a woman I was holding captive? I knew I had charms, but Ella was royally pissed off at me, and with good reason. I picked up a bottle of wine and two glasses from the kitchen, a peace offering, then walked through the library into my secret space and up to her door. I knocked, waited a moment, then opened it. She was sitting up on the bed, a book on her lap. Dressed in my clothes I had left for her, her hair long and loose, I hadn’t imagined it. She really was just as beautiful as I thought she was.

“Hi,” I told her as I stepped forward and held up the wine. “You’ve been alone all day, I thought you might want some company.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, can they?” she replied and narrowed her eyes at me.

“No, I guess they can’t.”

She scanned me. “You look dressed up.”

I poured us each a glass of wine and held one out to her. She hesitated a moment, then accepted it.

“I had a date,” I admitted. “But I felt guilty, you were here alone.”

“You should feel guilty,” she muttered, then took a sip. “This is good. I guess when you’re being held captive by a billionaire, you’re not drinking the cheap stuff.”

I sat on the end of the bed, giving her space.

“What would you have done in my situation, honestly? You know who I am. You’re a reporter. My privacy is at stake right now, and if you expose me, I’ll never get to finish what I started.”

“And what exactly is it that you started?”

“The Venetti crime family. I’m going to take them down.”

Her eyes flashed, there was an intelligence to her that I found appealing. Like she was piecing something together. “This is all because of your parents, isn’t it?”

I stared at her, buying time as I took a drink from my glass. How did she know that? In answer to the question I hadn’t even asked yet, Ella stood up, knelt down and pulled something from beneath the bed. My mother’s jewelry box. My articles. How did I forget that they were here, or that she would find them?

“Whatever you do Beckett, it won’t bring them back,” she said softly. “Let me go, and forget all of this.” I suddenly felt so exposed, she was laying all my scars bare. All the pieces of myself I never let anyone see.

“Is that why you’ve been trying to find your sister all these years?” I shot back. “Hiring investigators? Moving to Vegas? Going undercover as a hooker and almost getting yourself killed before I showed up?”

Her eyes went wide.

“How do you know that?”

I shrugged and drank my wine.

“You’re not the only one who can do research, Ella.”

She stood up, marched in front of me and balled her fists at her side in rage.

“You have absolutely no right to dig into my private life!”

“And you think you have a right to my life, my secrets? By the way, I read that article you wrote about me. Nice job, real professional. I give you an interview and in return I get a smear piece. You’re a real piece of work Ella,” I sneered. Shit. This wasn’t going the way I hoped it would.

She laughed, crossing her arms.

“You’re one to talk. At least I don’t pretend I’m someone I’m not, wearing a mask and beating people to a pulp.”

I stood up, we were face to face, inches from each other. She didn’t back down, she stayed rooted right where she was standing. She was not easily intimidated, but she was still infuriating.

“What makes you think I’m pretending when I’m the Phantom? Maybe that’s who I really am, and Beckett Carter is the illusion.”

“You have to let me go eventually, and when you do Beckett, I’m - I’m going to-”

“You’re going to do what Ella?” I cocked my eyebrow. “You’re going to send your boyfriend after me? The guy you haven’t even gone on one date with?”

She gasped then hit me with her small fists.

“Stop going through my phone Beckett!” she shrieked.

I grabbed her arms and held them firmly at her sides while she struggled against me. Holding her, it was there again. That electricity between us. She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling as she glared at me. I wanted nothing more than to throw her down on the bed, rip off her clothes and claim her body. I wanted to ruin her, I wanted to ruin both of us. I knew my attraction to her was dangerous, that she could destroy me, but I couldn’t help it.

“You’re snooping in my life, I get to snoop in yours. Fair is fair. I’m not keeping you here long, after I do what I have to do you can get back to Seth and screw each other’s brains out.”

“I haven’t slept with him,” she shot back.

“Well, you have all the time in the world,” I shrugged.

She laughed. “Not all of us are obsessed with sex, out with someone new every night, like you are Beckett.”

This woman really was a piece of work. What was her problem? I rolled my eyes.

“Oh right, little miss uptight. What are you, a virgin?”

I gave a low chuckle but Ella looked away and her cheeks went a shade paler. I froze then stared at her, searching her eyes for a sign I was mistaken.

“Ella… are you a virgin?”

“That’s none of your damn business,” she shot back, squirming out of my grip then she walked past me to the other end of the room and stared at the wall with her arms crossed. I stood there, completely dumbfounded. The silence stretched out between us, in stark contrast to the raised voices as we yelled at each other just moments ago. She was untouched, she was innocent, and everything I wanted to do to her was wrong. It was evil. I couldn’t lay a finger on her. I turned and placed my hand on the doorframe, looking over my shoulder at her.

“I’m sorry that this happened. I’m sorry I had to take you, and I promise you Ella, soon you’ll be free and you can say whatever you want about me.”

I walked out and locked the door behind me, feeling like more of a monster than I had before. She was a princess, beautiful and pure, locked in a tower. Which made me the evil dragon keeping her trapped, all fire and brimstone, more animal than man.