The Mysterious Mr. Hastings

"Is everything set for the merger announcement?" I asked, pacing my hotel suite. My personal assistant and bodyguard, Simon, nodded.

Simon was a massive, solid man with warm brown eyes and shoulder-length chestnut hair pulled back in a ponytail. We'd been friends since childhood; I trusted him with my life.

"All set, boss," he replied. "Still want to go undercover?"

"Always," I answered. "The employees are the ones who know everything." I grinned and started changing, trading my suit for jeans and a shirt. "Is my jet ready for takeoff?" I asked, swapping my wristwatch for a cheaper model. Simon gave me a skeptical look.

"Boss," he said warily, "your jet landed back home this morning with Theodore. We're flying coach in four hours."

"Right," I said, wincing as I reviewed my papers. "I hate flying."

"I know," Simon replied, "but it's a short haul-and Chris Stewart definitely can't afford a private jet."

"True," I said. "Let's move. And stop calling me boss."

"Of course, Chris," he said with a smirk.

We took a cab to the airport and waited in the terminal. Like me, Simon was dressed down in jeans and a shirt; we each carried only a backpack. Theo had already taken the rest of my luggage. People moved in a frantic blur around us; I wasn't used to the crowd. Simon handed me a glass of wine, but it didn't help-and I didn't want to drink more, despite my appreciation for a fine vintage.

When boarding began, we were among the last to get on. I took the middle seat, pinning Simon against the window.

A woman a few years younger than me-around twenty-five-appeared beside me in the aisle. She wore jeans, a blouse, and a vest, catching my eye instantly as she reached to place her carry-on in the overhead bin, revealing a slim waist. Admittedly, my eyes linger on beautiful women, and she was striking. She had feminine curves, vivid blue eyes, and long, straight chestnut hair pulled back in a ponytail with a side-swept fringe. She wasn't wearing makeup, but her sun-kissed skin made her eyes pop. When she noticed me staring, she simply offered a polite smile. Her perfume drifted toward me, but at that moment, all I cared about was the impending takeoff.

"I hate flying," I muttered as the plane began to taxi. "This is why private jets are better."

"Most people would like private jets," the woman said with a smile. She reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a small cylindrical vial.

"Would you like one?" she asked kindly. "They're highly recommended for nervous flyers."

Simon glanced at her, took the tube, and scanned the label.

"This is exactly what you need, Chris," he said, handing me a pill and a small bottle of water.

The tension in my chest slowly began to ease. The woman produced a book from her bag.

"Thank you," I said. "I already feel better." She smiled and shifted her gaze to Simon.

"I'm sure your friend can source these for you in the future." She opened her book and began to read.

"What are you reading?" I asked, looking for a distraction.

"A mystery." She tilted the cover toward me. It was the latest release from a well-known thriller author.

"Is it any good?" I asked. I rarely had the time, but I'd always had a weakness for mysteries.

"It's a bit of a slow burn, but it picks up around the middle," she said patiently. "So yes, I'd say it's worth it."

"I'm surprised it isn't a romance novel," I said. "Most women your age lean toward those."

"Few romance books can hold my attention," she replied evenly. "I can't relate to those 'can't live with you, can't live without you' types of relationships." She let out a soft laugh.

"How about a story where a woman saves a man from a heart attack on a plane, and he repays her with dinner?" I asked with a confident smile. Coach or not, women rarely resisted that look.

"I highly doubt the man in that story was actually close to a heart attack," she countered, her eyes never leaving the page.

Simon grinned to himself and closed his eyes. I spent the rest of the flight commenting on the cabin temperature and the noise from the children a few rows up; Simon only responded with a non-committal hum.

"When do we touch down?" I asked. Simon glanced at his watch.

"Another half hour, Chris," he answered. "Nervous again?"

"No," I said. "I just hate sitting idle."

The woman pulled a granola bar from her bag and held it out to me.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" I asked. "I'm not hungry."

"That may be," she said calmly, "but as long as you're eating, I don't have to listen to your complaining, and I can read in peace." Simon stifled a laugh. Reluctantly, I took the bar and tucked in. It was actually surprisingly good.

"We're landing," Simon noted as the woman tucked her book away and tightened her seatbelt.

The plane touched down, and the usual scramble for the exit began. The woman stepped into the aisle; Simon moved in front of me, acting as a shield, and I followed him out. I thought I heard a female voice shouting "Chris," but Simon was expert at clearing a path through the crowd. We hit the terminal and made it into the fresh air in record time.

Simon hailed a cab, and we slid in.

"Home?" Simon asked. I shook my head.

"To the temp apartment," I said, and Simon gave the driver the address. "You head home. I need to pick up a few things at the new place and grab a gift for Sonny and Jade. I was short with them before the trip; I owe them a visit."

My seatmate was a classic womanizer; tall, good-looking, and clearly intelligent, though he wasn't exactly ideal traveling company. He seemed a few years older than me, likely in his early thirties. He was fit and striking, and when those green eyes of his caught mine, it felt as if he were trying to see right into my soul. His light brown hair wasn't cropped short in the back, but styled in that carefully messy look; his boyish smile and clean-shaven face were undoubtedly the undoing of many women.

He and his friend were in such a rush to deplane that one of them dropped his wallet. I tried calling out to them, but they vanished into the crowd. Once I was off the plane, I looked inside. It contained some cash, two cards, a photo of a five-year-old boy hugging a massive dog, and a slip of paper with an address scrawled on it. I hailed a cab and headed to the address.

I arrived at a dilapidated apartment building; I was thankful I didn't have to live in a neighborhood like this. A lone lightbulb flickered in the musty hallway, and shouting echoed from several apartments. I stopped in front of the door number from the slip and knocked. No answer. I leaned against the door to wait; people always head home after a flight, and I figured one of the two men would show up eventually.

"Well, well," the door opposite me creaked open, and a burly man stepped out wearing a grimy tracksuit. The odor clinging to both the apartment and the man made my nose wrinkle. "Look what the wind blew in."

"Excuse me," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Do you know the gentleman who lives here? I'm looking for him."

"He's brought plenty of women up here," the man sneered, "but none of 'em ever waited for him." He laughed, a raspy, unpleasant sound. "What do you want with him? Did he knock you up?"

I flushed bright red. The man stepped into the hallway with a lecherous grin.

"You can wait at my place," he said, closing the distance. I pressed myself into the door behind me. I desperately needed to use the restroom, but nothing would convince me to set foot in his place.

"No," I managed, "I'm fine right here."

"Come on, sweetheart," he said, slamming his hands against the door on either side of my head. "Don't play hard to get."

I clutched my shoulder bag to my chest, bracing myself. I was ready to drive my knee between his legs, but fortunately, it didn't come to that.

"What's going on here?" a commanding voice echoed from the hallway.

The man flinched and stepped back. I finally dared to breathe.

"Chris," the man said, forcing a fake smile. "This lady was waiting for you, and I was just keeping her company. Seems you knocked her up." The man laughed, and I turned red all over again. Chris didn't even look at me; he was carrying a gift bag along with his backpack.

"I've told you before, Benji-one more stunt and I'm calling the super," Chris said coldly. "Get inside, and don't you dare speak to my guests ever again."

Benji scurried into his apartment and slammed the door.

"I'm not an ex-girlfriend of yours," I said defensively. "We met on the plane."

The man was taller than me; the top of my head reached only his nose.

"I remember," he said with a soft smile. "How can I help you?"

"Either you or your friend dropped a wallet," I said, handing it over. He took it and glanced inside. "This was the address on the slip, so I stopped by to return it."

"Thank you," he said. "Want to come in for a few minutes?" he asked, unlocking the door.

"Could I use your restroom?" I asked. "Just for a minute. I won't be in the way."

"Of course," Chris said, swinging the door open.

I took off my shoes and looked around. It was a studio apartment where the kitchen and the tiny living room were separated by a kitchen island. The living area held a sofa, a TV, and a desk. In the other corner was a large queen-size bed, partitioned off by a few dressers near the bathroom. Everything looked new; the place had clearly been recently renovated.

"It's the closed door," he said, pointing to the only one near the bed. I hurried inside.

The bathroom was clean and tasteful. I finished quickly, washed my hands, and stepped back out.

"Would you like a glass of water?" Chris asked, sitting on a barstool at the island.

"No, thank you," I said. I was thirsty, but I didn't want to linger.

"You didn't drink anything the entire flight," Chris said pointedly as he poured a glass anyway.

I stepped over to the kitchen island, positioning myself directly between the counter and a barstool. I faced Chris with no intention of sitting down.

"Thank you," I said, accepting the glass. He simply nodded. "It's a very nice apartment."

"I live alone; I don't need much space," Chris said. "Do you live far from here?"

"No," I replied. "This address was on my way from the airport. I'm about fifteen minutes away."

"Let me pay for your cab since you went to the trouble of coming here," he offered with a smile.

"That's not necessary, thank you."

"Then I'll take the gesture as a personal compliment," he said with a confident grin.

"That would be quite conceited of you," I laughed. "This could easily have been your friend's address; I would have returned the wallet either way," I said matter-of-factly. He burst out laughing.

"And yet, I was the only one you saved on the plane," he countered.

"Well, given how much you complained, I'm not sure that was a good idea," I teased. "The dog in the photo is cute," I added. "The one in your wallet."

"The little boy isn't cute?" he asked with a charming, boyish smile.

"He's barely visible in the picture," I answered, laughing.

"That was my dog, Peanut," he said, his expression softening. "He was already part of the family when I was born."

"Cute dog," I repeated.

"Thank you. Do you have one?" he asked curiously.

"A dog is the last thing I need right now," I laughed.

His eyes began to linger on my face in silence. I quickly finished the rest of my water. "I really have to go."

"You're welcome to stay. No need to rush," he said with a smile.

He reached out toward my hand. I jumped back before he could touch me, but the momentum sent me right into the tall barstool behind me. With a yelp, I tripped over it and went down.

"Are you okay?" Chris hurried around the counter, stifling a laugh as I scrambled to get back on my feet. "I only wanted to take your glass," he added.

"I'm fine," I said, my face heating up. "I'm sorry."

Chris smiled and uprighted the chair. I slipped my shoes back on.

"Thank you for the water," I said. "I have to go; they're waiting for me."

I opened the door and headed toward the stairs. He followed me out.

"I'll walk you down and wait for the cab with you," he stated firmly. "This neighborhood is no place for a woman alone at this hour."

"Thank you," I said.

We waited for the taxi in silence. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him scan me a few times before he finally spoke.

"You didn't answer my dinner invitation," he said.

"I must have forgotten," I said with a smile. I'm not in the habit of dining with womanizers-not that I date much anyway. And it was definitely best to keep my distance. He was way too disarming.

"Then say yes," he replied with that heart-melting, boyish smile.

The taxi pulled up to the curb just then. I exhaled in relief, while he let out a frustrated sigh."Good night," I said, and climbed into the back seat.

After she left, I caught a cab back to the other side of town. I lived in a two-story mansion behind a high security fence, complete with a sprawling garden and indoor-outdoor pools. I owned the farmland across the road, too-ensuring no one could hide out or spy on me. Beyond the back fence lay a dense, impenetrable forest. Thick, towering thujas lined the perimeter, masking the security fence. From the inside, all I saw was a wall of lush evergreen; the high-tech barrier was invisible, but its protection was absolute.

The cab pulled up to the gate, and the guard stepped out of his booth.

"I have an appointment with Mr. McAllister," I said. My guard let me in immediately; my staff knew the drill when I arrived in a cab. The wrought-iron gates swung open, and we drove past the towering hedges. I had the driver stop at the fountain-a sculpture shaped like a blooming bouquet-where the driveway looped. We never allowed cabs past the fountain.

I paid the fare, the driver pulled a U-turn, and I started walking toward the house.

"Boss," Theo called, hurrying toward me as the cab disappeared.

Theo was a few years older than me-thin, bespectacled, and nearly as tall as I was. His hair was elegantly trimmed, his stubble was on point, and his suits were always perfectly tailored, though right now he was just in a black tracksuit.

"Hope you had a nice trip," I muttered. He just laughed.

"You're the one who insists on going undercover," he said as we walked inside.

"If I recall correctly, I start tomorrow," I said. Theo nodded.

"You've been hired as a toy designer," he replied. "Carol Monroe in HR has been setting the stage for a year." I nodded.

"And tomorrow the merger is announced," Theo continued. "In a few days, I'll introduce myself as the interim CEO."

We walked into the spacious living room where Simon was having tea. Theo and Simon lived in the mansion with me; with ten bedrooms, there was plenty of space, and I preferred the company.

"Tell the super at the apartment to evict Benji," I said, sitting down as Aunt Sydney, my housekeeper, set a bowl of soup in front of me. Aunt Sydney was a petite, silver-haired woman with glasses. She had lived at the orphanage her entire life, first as a child and then as a staff member, until they let her go when she reached retirement age. I took her in after that; she handles the cooking and she's been a mother figure to us all for many years. She stays in the ground-floor guest wing-she's never been one for stairs.

"What happened?" Simon asked. "He's been terrified of you since you broke his nose."

"You're moving into his place," I told him. "Remember that woman from the plane?" Simon smirked.

"Hard to forget those curves and those eyes," he laughed. "What about her?"

"She was waiting at my apartment," I said. "She returned Chris Stewart's wallet. It fell out of my bag when we landed."

"How did she know the address?" Theo asked.

"The boss wrote it down months ago so he wouldn't forget it," Simon laughed. "Changing apartments every year is hard to keep track of. So, where does Benji come in?"

"He was drinking again and he spooked her," I said. "I didn't buy that building for scum; I bought it for people in need. Tell the super to toss him and fix up the place, or I'll find a new manager. Simon, move into the unit and keep an eye on things. All the rent goes back into building repairs." Simon nodded.

"So that's why you're so late," Theo grinned. "I assume you got laid."

"She used my bathroom and tripped over a chair-but not yet," I said with a grin. "But I'm going to. She's incredibly sexy when she laughs."

"We don't even know her name, and she won't even have dinner with you," Simon laughed.

"Dinner is rarely a requirement," I smirked. "Track down her name from the flight manifest. I'm not used to asking, but hers interests me. She didn't even flinch at my 'boy-with-a-dog' photo."

"I'll look into it," Simon said.

"What kind of sedative did she give me?" I asked. "The flight didn't bother me at all."

"Multivitamins," Simon laughed. "You believed it was a sedative, and the placebo effect did the rest." I let out a laugh.

"A remarkable woman," Theo noted with a smile as I laced my shoes back on to head over to Sonny and Jade's.

Sonny took me in when I was a kid; he was my mentor, and I owe everything to him. He and his wife have been like parents to me since I was twelve. My mansion was only a few minutes from their estate-we were neighbors. I deliberately bought the land that way years ago.

Theo was my other neighbor. His house will be much closer once it's finished, but right now, there's only a small structure on his lot with a cellar and a tunnel leading to my basement. The tunnel was built by previous owners; we'd bulldozed both original houses but kept the foundations and the tunnel intact.

I hopped on my sportbike and tore down the private path between the properties.