Chapter Ten
It was just after eight when Bret fished out his cell phone from the pocket of his Armani terrycloth robe and thumbed through his contacts for Harry’s number. A cup of tea steamed on the table alongside his chair, and he reached over and grabbed it. Bret took a sip and stared out the window over the roofs and lights of Beacon Hill. Across the street from his penthouse, a small park lay shrouded in darkness on the moonless night.
A low buzz on his phone cut him off before he’d been able to press the call button. He looked at the screen, and a thin smile pulled at his lips as he set the tea down then answered it.
“Hey, Boss. I see you called me earlier. I was working on another job, so I was sorta indisposed,” Harry said.
“The bitch is in some fucking hick town in Colorado,” Bret replied.
“How’d you find that out?”
“Her mother told me. She wants her and the brat home for Christmas.”
Harry’s deep chuckle rumbled through the phone. “And she thinks you’re going to play romantic and bring her home for a damn Hallmark holiday.”
Bret brushed off a piece of lint from his navy blue robe. “Yes … something like that.”
“Which town?”
Bret walked over to the computer monitor and squinted. “Pinewood Springs. It looks like it’s not too far from Aspen. I might be able to salvage this fucking trip after all.”
“Did you get the name of the hotel?”
A frown creased his forehead, and he narrowed his eyes. “Apparently some guy is helping her and Timmy out. From what Mary told me, they’re staying with him. It seems like they got caught in that blizzard that was on the news.”
“How’d she get there? I’ve checked all buses, trains, planes, and rental agencies,” Harry said.
“It sounds like she used my money to buy a second hand … RV.” His nose wrinkled in disgust. “You can’t make a silk bag out of a pig’s ear.” Since he’d married Savannah, his mother had said that often enough to him. He slinked down into the cushy chair by the window and crossed his legs. You were so fucking right, Mother.
“How do you want me to handle this? I can bring them both back,” Harry said.
“I’ll have to go with you. I need to talk with her and clear up some things.” Bret leaned back and closed his eyes. This is a major pain in my ass. I have parties to go to and a few sweeties to fuck. “I’ve got some obligations. Why don’t you head over there and get a feel of what the situation is. I’ll join you in a week or so.”
“Sure thing, Boss. I just gotta wrap up this case, but I should be ready to go in a couple of days. Will that work?”
“It will. This is between you and me. There’s no need to tell my father or mother that we know where they are.”
“I understand. I’ll touch base with you in a couple of days.”
Bret put the phone back into his pocket and stretched out his legs. Harry’s dad had been on the Carlton family’s payroll for as long as Bret could remember. When the old man had keeled over while banging one of the strippers from Dirty Dan’s, Harry had stepped in and taken over the business. Bret used him often—mainly to dig up dirt on competitors, board members, and anyone else who could become troublesome.
His phone pinged and he dug it out again and opened the text. He licked his lips several times as he stared at Denise’s fingers inside her shaved pussy. His newest toy was turning out to be quite the adventurous vixen.
Denise: Wanna play, Daddy?
“Fuck, yeah,” he muttered under his breath.
Bret: What do u have in mind?
Denise: Besides riding ur face & sucking u dry … a lot of things.
Bret: If u fuck me good, I’ll take u to Aspen with me.
Denise: Ohhh, Daddy!
He laughed. There was definitely something to be said about young college students who didn’t have any money—it didn’t take much to excite them.
Bret: I’ll send a car to pick u up. Wear lingerie & put ur butt plug in.
Denise: The one with the shiny pink jewel?
Bret: Yeah. I like u in pink.
Denise: I’ve got a pretty pink pussy.
He chuckled.
Bret: Just the way I like it. Put ur plug in now. I want you nice and stretched.
Denise: OK, Daddy. I better go.
Bret tapped in the number for the Ritz Carlton and reserved the suite. Next, he contacted Emerson, his right-hand man, informing him that something had come up and he’d be late, and to push the following day’s meeting from the morning to the afternoon. As Bret passed the dresser, his gaze landed on their marriage portrait. He stopped and picked it up. “We were so happy back then,” he said in a low voice, his thumb grazing the side of Savannah’s face. “We had a good thing going, so why’d you have to fuck us up? Wasn’t I enough for you?” As far as Bret was concerned, the day Savannah had announced she was pregnant was the end of their marriage, so all bets were off. He was faithful for the two years they’d dated and, for the most part, during the six years they were married before she fucked everything up. “I loved you more than any woman I’ve ever known, but you blew it, baby. You broke up this marriage, not me.”
For several minutes, he stared at Savannah’s shining blue eyes, her bright smile, and her feminine curves, and then he placed the framed photograph face down on the dresser and made his way to the bathroom to get ready for a night with his twenty-year-old plaything.