The Love Of Money - S01 E212

Story 1 week ago

The Love Of Money - S01 E212

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 212

"Who are you people?" I asked. "Mom, you would've shot me if I'd brought a girl home!"

"I know," she said. "You just snuck out instead. If I'm being honest, Jacob wore us down. With Richie, we decided if he's going to do it anyway, might as well do it in the safety of our home where we can make sure they're safe"

"How progressive of you guys," I said begrudgingly.

"That's what Emily said," Henry chimed in. "Speaking of, tell her we're sad we missed her."

"Did she never show up?" I asked.

"We haven't seen her," Mom said.

"Strange, but you guys can tell her that tomorrow. Still want to do dinner?"

"We'll be there," Dad said.

We said our goodbyes, and they left. I picked up something to sip on from the bar and headed for the ledge, needing a moment to decompress after making the rounds of the partygoers. My parents mentioning Emily reminded me of Natashya's situation, and I concluded that Emily had decided to stay behind to keep her company.

Forget me and what I'd suffered at the hands of those mercenaries. Natashya had been hurt worse than me, and that was a direct result of Ashlee and whoever she was trying to reach.

As the night wore on, I became more convinced that it wasn't her father. I couldn't imagine Roger being so eager to take his daughter home if he'd been ghosting her. It had to be Cartwright, but that wasn't enough. Cartwright had been a goon for my grandpa an enforcer. I didn't think he was the type to put a plan together and use other people. Unless I was reading him completely wrong. Ashlee had been working with someone else to kidnap me.

"You look deep in thought."

I looked to my right and saw a woman leaning with her back against the railing next to me, watching me with brown eyes a shade between honey and wheat. A thick mane of dark blonde hair hung to the tops of her shoulders, held back from her face with a few pins in a simple, hair-down style. She wore a simple, sleeveless, black cocktail dress that went to her knees. The neckline plunged but was narrow enough that I could only see a hint of the slopes of her average-sized breasts. Her lightly tanned skin showed off a few freckles on her chest that begged to be traced with a finger, like playing a game of connect-the-dots. The dress was far from scandalous, but it was definitely tantalizing.

Julia Lyons was one of the most famous reporters for Channel Seven, a New York news station that had grown so famous that it had become nationally acclaimed. The innocuous name 'Channel Seven' had become synonymous with the station throughout most of the nation... kind of like the singer adopting the name 'Pink' The last time we met, she interviewed me about inheriting my grandfather's wealth and gave me her card in case I ever wanted to talk in more detail. I hadn't.

"Just enjoying the view," I said.

"It's a good view." She took a sip of whatever she was drinking and looked back at me, giving me a smile. It was generous, with ample lips and perfect teeth, and brought her high cheekbones into more prominence. She was a talented newscaster and interviewer, but I suspected her looks had just as much to do with her rise to fame on the national stage.

"Do you mind if I ask what happened to you last weekend?" she asked.

I snorted and looked back over the breathtaking New York night skyline. "It's the weekend. Aren't you off the clock?"

"A good journalist never stops working." I noticed her fidget with the ring on her left hand as she said it. She'd come alone. I wondered if there was a story there.

"On the record or off?" I asked.

"I'd prefer on, but if you insist, we can go off."

I thought about it for a few moments and shook my head. "There's a lot of speculation, so might as well set the record straight. It can be on the record."

Julia simply nodded and took another sip of her cocktail.

"What have you heard so far?" I asked.