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“Ah, the big city.”
I couldn’t tell if she was being nostalgic or sarcastic. Probably a bit of both.
She motioned to the forest beyond the terrace. “But I’m perfectly fine here with nature,”—she motioned toward the interior—“the comfort of my large home and my staffs.”
I thought perhaps I had misheard. Did she just say ‘staffs’ in the plural? But I glanced at the others, and both Ken and Christian seemed to have a slight look of confusion on their faces, too.
“We thought about going onto the terrace last night,” said Ben. “But we noticed what looked like a security system. We didn’t want to set off an alarm.”
“The system will only go off if you try to break in,” said Sasha. “You’re welcome to go onto the terrace. I recommend it. Good for gazing at the stars.”
When Stevie and Jim came with our food, they were helped by a third man, hyper-blond, with a boy-next-door or captain-of-the-football-team vibe to him. By reflex, I stole a glance at Ben. He didn’t seem too bothered by the competition.
Sasha introduced him as Harry. They served us then joined us at the table, though they sat a bit off to the side and said very little.
I did the math in my head: Harry, Jim, and Stevie, plus the four men who’d greeted us last night. “How many men did she have working for her?” I asked myself. “And do they all need to look like male models?”
After breakfast, Sasha told us that we, the men in the group, would be left to our own devices. She needed to steal Bonita for a while. She and Bonita had much they needed to discuss.
“Perhaps we could go for a walk through the forest,” said Christian. He looked at Sasha. “Is it safe?”
She twisted her voluptuous red lips into a wry smile. “A man big and strong such as yourself, I don’t think you’re likely to come across any danger you can’t handle.”
Christian literally blushed. I made a mental note to rib him about that later.
“And what’s that?” asked Ken. He pointed at something in the forest, but I was seated too far away to see what. “Your neighbor?”
Whatever he’d pointed at, it visibly upset Sasha. “I’m afraid so,” she said. And not the friendly kind.”
“Oh, he said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“But we’ve installed security,” Harry chimed in. He glanced at Sasha, smiled, and nodded. “So there’s nothing to worry about.”
“I wish that were true,” she said.
“Are they that bad?” Bonita asked.
Instead of answering, Sasha motioned to Harry.
“Are you familiar with Fay Energy?” he asked Bonita.
“Yes, I know about Fay Energy. I know about Angelica Fay. I know about the rumors she started and the allegations that cost Solar Snow a huge contract. Why?”
“Well,” said Harry, “that home was built just last year. We believe they are spies for Fay Energy.”
“We know they are spies,” Sasha corrected.
Harry put up his hands, palms out. “My mistake. We know they are spies working with Fay Energy.”
“Wow.” Bonita’s jaw dropped.
“We don’t have proof,” said Stevie. “At least none we could use in court. Not yet. But we’re working on it.”
“But don’t let that stop you from exploring the woods,” said Sasha. She stood from the table. She faced Harry, Jim, and Stevie. “Gentlemen, that was delicious. Thank you.”
“We learned from the best,” said Harry, and he gave Sasha a wink.
She extended a hand for Bonita, which Bonita took, then she said to us, “Now if you’ll excuse us. The ladies have important matters to discuss.”
9
Bonita
Sasha led me from room to room of her palatial estate. We talked openly as if we’d known each other our whole lives. Instantly, I could tell she was a confident woman, in command, too confident for pretense. I found myself admiring her, wanting to be like her in a way. I even noticed my posture and my gate change to be more like hers: head up, shoulders and hips swaying lightly as she’d glide across the room, fingers gently touching the table lamps and statuettes as she passed them.
“So, is it Noah or Ben?” she asked with a playful look on her face. “Or perhaps Landon or Christian?”
I smiled. “You cut right to the chase, don’t you?”
“Oh, the chase is fun,” she said. “But I much prefer getting caught.”
I laughed. “Actually, I don’t know yet. I mean…” I couldn’t finish my sentence. I didn’t know what I meant: too many competing emotions for me to make sense of them all.
“And what about you?” I asked. “So many gorgeous men around, Seth, Harry, Graham. It must be hard to choose.”
“Who says we have to choose?” She stopped just as we’d entered the long corridor with the seven doors on the left and the double doors centered on the right.
I opened my mouth to respond but realized I had no response to give. Why do we have to choose?
