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Bentley Abbott left New York six years ago and, from what we know, he’s never been back. Is there a story there we’ve been missing all along? Quite possibly given that finance mogul Morgan Abbott never speaks of his first heir. Yet, their daughter Celia still visits and proudly appears at her parents’ side when called upon.
The world might have forgotten about Abbott’s first child, but as we can all see, he’s alive and well. Maybe this spotting means it’s time to dust off the detective hat and see what, or better yet, who, chased Bentley away all those years ago.
For now, we can all ponder who the lucky lady is that’s captured this billionaire’s heart. Will she last, or is this just a fling we shouldn’t concern ourselves with?
To be continued…
All the fucking fucks.
Bentley is going to lose his shit. I might not know him well, but I know enough to understand he’s going to want to murder someone.
“Are you okay, Kenz?” Piper asks softly.
I stare at my phone, taking in both of my friends’ concerned faces. “Yeah, I should probably call Bentley, though.”
Ella frowns. “This might be better news delivered in person. Can you leave work?”
I can if I work late tonight…
Absolutely worth it, even if it’s Friday.
I nod. “I’ll catch up with you ladies later today.”
“Good luck,” Piper calls out just as I end the chat.
Quickly, I scan my emails and the files on my desk. There’s nothing urgent, so I head down to Joslin’s office. Clara is there and she smiles up at me. “How can I help you, McKenzie?”
“I was hoping to speak with Joslin for a minute,” I say, crossing my fingers behind my back that she’s in a good mood this morning.
Clara frowns. “She’s not in this morning. She won’t be back until this afternoon.”
Oh. Well, I could leave and she’d never know. No, I can’t do that.
“That’s okay. I’ll just send her an email.” At least I can’t get in trouble for not telling her I took off.
I pull my phone out of my purse and type out an email to Joslin, promising to work late in order to make up for the missed time. Hopefully, I’m back before she returns at least.
I hurry downstairs and to the parking lot. Within minutes, I’m in my car and heading toward West-to-East, Inc. The last time I showed up there, I was trying to piss off Bentley. Now, I’m hoping like hell he won’t care what those stupid magazines have to say and that my first thought about him being pissed would be wrong.
I know nothing about his family history. Maybe this won’t be a big deal. Yeah, I need to think positive.
Or I could be realistic and understand that this could change everything. God, I hope not.
Too many minutes later, I’ve begun to spiral with all of the “what ifs” on why Bentley would have left New York. My stomach is churning.
Have I been fucking a psycho? Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised. Not because of Bentley, either. That’s just my luck some days.
I make my way to Bentley’s office. None of the employees seem overly nervous, so that must mean their CEO hasn’t gone on a rampage. That should make me feel better, but it doesn’t.
Brad, Bentley’s assistant, waves at me when he spots me coming down the hallway. “Hey, Kenzie.”
I smile. “Is Bentley busy?”
As I ask the question, Owen comes out of his office, leaving the door cracked. He doesn’t smile, and I take that to mean he’s still pissed about the dinner I interrupted.
“You didn’t like my peace offering?” I ask him with a waggle of my brows.
“I’d have rather you not barged into my house,” he replies, folding his arms over his chest.
