Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
“Hey,” he greeted me.
“Hey, yourself.” I sank onto the sofa with a sigh of relief. “You didn’t call me last week, I was getting worried.”
“You know I don’t like you to pay for these stupid calls,” he grumbled. “And I write you letters, isn’t that enough?”
“I suppose.” I tugged at a loose thread on my sweater. “But I’m working full time now, Brayden. So you can call me anytime you want.”
“I saw in your letter,” he replied. “How do you like the job?”
I chewed on my lip and tried to find the right words. “It’s good. I’m an intern for now, but it keeps me busy. And a roof over my head, which is good.”
“What’s the name of the company?” he asked. “I don’t think you mentioned it.”
I winced at his question. I hated lying to my brother.
“Well, it’s a bunch of companies,” I mumbled. “I’m… uh, I work for an agency. You know, like a contractor. But they really liked me, so…”
I was babbling. And it was going to make Brayden suspicious, so I changed the subject quick.
“Anyway, hey have you heard from Norma? I haven’t talked to her in a while either.”
“No,” Brayden responded. “I’ve tried calling her a couple of times, but she never answers.”
The line was silent for a moment while be both let those words sink in. We knew why, of course. Though I knew better than Brayden did. I wasn’t about to tell him she was probably lying in a pool of her own vomit somewhere with a needle in her arm. Before he went to prison, she was just an alcoholic with an affinity for pain killers. Now it was a whole different ballgame.
“I’m sure I’ll get a hold of her soon,” Brayden assured me.
I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, but there was something else I wanted to ask him. Something I knew for certain would make him suspicious, but it couldn’t be helped.
“Hey, do you remember the night before you went away when you had all those people over?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Remember that guy, the one you got angry at me for talking to?”
I couldn’t tell him his real name since I’d hounded Brayden for months and he never told me.
“What about him?” his voice was pure ice. “Have you run into him or something?”
“No, nothing like that,” I assured him. “I just remembered it the other day when I was looking at photos. You never did tell me what that was about.”
“It isn’t your concern,” he said flatly. “And I want to know why you’re bringing him up.”
“I just told you.”
“He lives in Chicago, so you shouldn’t ever see him. Or hear from him. But if you do… stay the hell away from him. I mean it, Brighton.”
“Okay, I got it,” I grumbled.
Why did he think Ryland lived in Chicago?
“Listen, I have to go,” he said. “But I’ll call you next week okay?”
“Alright Brayden, I love you.”
“Love you too, sis. Take care.”
***
By the time Thursday rolled around, I was a loose cannon. I’d spent the entirety of the week googling random bits of information about Ryland Bennett during my breaks, and I was starting to think I had a problem.
Why was I so curious about this man? There were so many unanswered questions. Like how he fit into Brayden’s life, or how he was a billionaire and I didn’t even know it. How the universe had conspired to bring me to the very company he founded and the city that he lived in. Of course, these weren’t exactly office appropriate questions, so I had to resort to google.
According to public record, he used his inheritance to fund the startup of the Bennett Corporation four years ago, and since then he’d never looked back. Every article I found about him was business related, with some generic biographies thrown in. There was no mention of him in Chicago at all, so I didn’t understand why Brayden thought he lived there. The articles said he was a California native and that his uncle was another notable real estate tycoon. There was also a mention that the billionaire was fiercely protective of his privacy, and the rest of his life was a complete mystery. Of course, it only made me more curious.
After the incident at the bar, I hadn’t seen Tom come back to work, and I could only assume Ryland had fired him. I asked Nicole about it, but she said she didn’t know. I didn’t really believe that because she was very reluctant to talk about the situation at all. There had been no mention of what she’d said that night at the bar, but I noticed that things between her and Matt were even more strained than usual. Neither one of them were speaking much at all, and I was starting to get paranoid about the whole thing.