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ChapterEleven
There’ssomething about Chase Wilson that doesn’t add up.
Why is a guy, who is heir to a once billion-dollar company, now working as a paparazzi? From my quick research, the man is one of Canada’s most eligible bachelors and previously worked for his father’s company, Wilson Enterprises. With model good looks and making millions of dollars, he seemed to have the dream life. But something happened when his father died because it’s now reported that Chase refused to claim his right to the company and instead, left it to his brother, Rhys, who had to quit being a professional hockey player in order to save it.
Why would he not take over the company himself?
Why did the company need saving?
Why become a photographer?
I study him as he takes a seat in front of my desk after we shake hands and exchange greetings. He seems familiar to me, yet I can’t remember when I would’ve met him.
“Have we met before?” I inquire, hoping he remembers if we have.
“Yeah, way back when. Before you became…you” He lifts his chin at me and smirks.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I narrow my eyes at him, not liking his tone and what he’s insinuating.
“Back when you made paid appearances.” His smile is bitter and never reaches his eyes.What the fuck is this guy’s problem?
“Have I done something to offend you, Mr. Wilson?” I ask. Not that I give two shits about this bloke, but his hostility is starting to irritate me.
“Not taking responsibility for your own child offends me,” he responds, his tone dead serious and his eyes never wavering from mine.
“As we said in our joint statement, it’s a misunderstanding that’s being dealt with privately,” I grit out, my jaw clenched in anger at his audacity.
“Right…the bullshit excuse for paying your baby momma off now that the news affects your reputation.”
“I don’t give two shits about my reputation and my private life is none of your goddamn business,” I growl at him. My temper flares as this was not how I planned for this meeting to go.
“If that’s the case, then why am I here, Mr. Harrington?”
“Before I tell you why, I need you to sign an NDA and that once you sign it, you understand that everything discussed is confidential.” I slide across the desk my standard non-disclosure agreement that I make everyone sign. He stares at it, blinks, then looks up at me. Questions are swirling through those hazel eyes of his and I can tell his curiosity is eating at him. He glances back down and starts reading the disclosure. Once I see he’s close to the end, I strategically place a pen near the signature line.
He finishes reading, sits back and folds his arms across his chest. “Why should I agree to this?”
“Because I will pay you six figures for a couple months’ worth of work.”
His eyebrows shoot up and I know he’s interested now. “What kind of work?”
I tap my finger on the form and shake my head. “That doesn’t get revealed until after you sign.”
His eyes bounce between me and the agreement. “Why should I trust you?”
“I could ask you the exact same question. But everything in life is a gamble, even trust.” I lean back in my seat and regard him coolly. “So Mr. Wilson, do you like to gamble?”
Despite him being a prick since the moment he’s stepped foot into my space, I’m impressed that the mere mention of a six-figure payout didn’t make him sign right away. I trust Thomas, so if he’s recommending this guy, there must be something to him regardless of his shitty disposition.
He sits quietly for a minute and seems to have an internal battle with himself over whether to sign. He rubs his hands back and forth against the fabric of his jeans. I’m fascinated that he’s actually debating this. If it was anyone else, the deal would’ve been done. Something else is definitely going on with him and if he signs on, I’ll be hiring Thomas to find out what.
After a couple more minutes of brooding, he grabs the pen, scribbles his signature, and throws the pen down. “No more games. Now what are you hiring me for?”
I tilt my head and give him a perplexed smile at his choice of words. “I’m hiring you to follow Jenna. I need eyes and ears on her at all times. Her whereabouts, who she’s with, etc.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Why? You don’t trust her?”
“I trust her completely. It’s other people I don’t trust.” I rake my hands through my hair, deciding I need to be more upfront with him. “I was unaware I had a child because someone in my close circle lied and kept that news hidden. Therefore, my capability to trust people is limited.”
