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“That’s what I need you to find out.” West’s eyes meet mine, and there’s a glimmer of the determination that usually defines him in them. “I need you to dig up everything you can on her. Who she is, what she does, and why my father thinks she’d be a suitable wife for the COO of NeuroPort Dynamics.”
I open my cell and type in her name, narrowing the location to the City of New York.
A beautiful blonde girl appears. The bio says she lives in the Hamptons but works in an art studio in the city. And I’m guessing that with her proximity to Manhattan I’ve found the right girl.
I turn my phone to Mr. Davenport. “She’s very pretty.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “I never asked what she looked like. I want as much dirt on her as possible.”
Dirt?The word is surprisingly satisfying, but... “I’m not a private investigator.” I raise an eyebrow, feeling a lot out of my depth.
West chuckles, the sound low and smooth. “I know, Amelia. But you’re the only one I trust with this.”
I frown, unsure what to make of that comment, considering he accused me of being the leak only moments before now. “Okay, fine. But if I get caught snooping around, I’m blaming you.”
He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And I will take full responsibility.”
I sigh, feeling a bit more at ease. “So, what is really going on here? Why does your father want you to marry this Elizabeth person?”
West leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers together behind his head. My eyes roam over his wide chest and where his shirt parts at the buttons. “He’s planning my funeral...I mean, marriage.”
I laugh. “That’s a unique way of putting it.”
West shrugs. “Might as well be the same thing. He’s trying to control my life, as usual.”
I give him a sympathetic nod. “Can’t you tell him you’re dating someone?”
West turns the newspaper to me, a wry smile spreading across his face. “Do I look like I’m dating someone?”
I feel a flush rise to my cheeks as I take in the headline about the sex club. “Eek!”
West laughs, the sound husky. “Exactly. My social life isn’t exactly...respectable.”
I try to think of a way to deflect the conversation. “Well, you could always say pole dancers are your weakness and that you need therapy.”
West raises an eyebrow, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You think that would go well with my father?”
I shrug. “Hey, it’s worth a shot, right?”
I try to think of a way to deflect the conversation, but West’s eyes on mine are making me feel like I’m under a microscope.
“So, Amelia,” he says, his voice low and smooth, “what were you doing at Club Elysium that night?”
I shrug, trying to play it cool. “Letting off steam, I suppose.”
West smirks, his expression skeptical. “Letting off steam? At a sex club? You don’t strike me as the type.”
Heat rises to my cheeks, and I look away, trying to compose myself. But West’s words hit a nerve, and before I know it, the truth comes tumbling out.
“Okay, fine,” I say, sighing. “I was there because I found my boyfriend cheating, and I went there to fuck someone.”
His square jaw does this strange twitching motion.
The room falls silent as a wave of embarrassment washes over me. I didn’t mean to reveal so much or to sound so vulgar.
“Did you?” His voice sounds awfully like a growl.
“You know I didn’t. You saw me leave.”