Jealous Storm by Jack Stroke (classic literature books TXT) 📗

Stupid. He’d seen Amber and realised what she was up to and rushed to get here first.

“Megan, please…”

“I don’t want to hear it, Amber.”

“But he’s lying. The guy’s bad news.”

“What is he lying about? You weren’t following him?”

“No, I mean… It wasn’t his sister.”

“That you saw when you were following him. For no reason.”

Ellis sat on the bed next to Megan, flashing Amber a sad smile. “Listen, Amber. I’m sorry. I know you like me. I know you wanted me to choose you, not Megan.”

“Oh, shut up, Ellis.”

“Sooner or later you have to face facts. I’m with Megan. You have to accept that.”

It wasn’t clear which cut more, Megan not believing Amber or Ellis’ false niceties.

“Megan, please…”

“Amber, I’m sick of your crazy. Take it somewhere else, okay?”

She grabbed Ellis’ hand, clasping them together in her lap. Very much a couple. Very much together. And just for a second Ellis’ eyes gave him away. An arrogant flicker, telling Amber he had won.

He had won and she had lost.

28

The Tesla pulled up outside a mansion. If anything, the vehicle looked cheap in comparison to the rest of the surrounding cars.

Ben gulped. “What do I do again?”

“You realise you have well and truly used up your three questions by now, yeah? Meet Baumer’s daughter. That’s all. She just has to know you exist.”

About a dozen people stood around the home’s grand entrance, including security.

“How do I get in?”

“What you’re wearing will be more than enough. It’s a powerful weapon. Use it carefully.”

“What is? My tux?”

“You look like a million bucks, Benny. It’ll easily get you through the front door. Once you’re in, it’s up to you.”

“But what if someone wants to know who I am?”

“What if you’re just stalling because you’re too chicken go inside? Look, Benny, it might not seem like it, but this is the easy part, okay?”

Ben attempted to walk as naturally as possible, which for some reason had become difficult. Thank God he had the tuxedo. It helped. Jazz floated out from somewhere inside the house.

The front door was wide open, which was good. He didn’t have to knock. A mix of men and women surrounding the door. A few glanced Ben’s direction as he approached and yet no one gave him a second thought. Just like that he was inside.

The doors led to a grand entrance, the likes of which Ben had never seen before. At least not outside of films and TV. Two staircases twirled up to a second level, circling the enormous chandelier that dominated the space. More people here. Everyone done up, ball gowns on the women, tuxedos on the men. Not many young people though. A lot of grey hair. Didn’t that make Ben stand out?

An overwhelming sense of being out of his depth swept over Ben. What was he doing here? How had he thought he could do this? How had they? Shake and Mother and very probably Amber. He was just a kid from Port Simmons.

Following the flow of people, he found himself in a ballroom. What kind of house had its own ballroom? These people had serious money. He would have to pay attention to make sure he didn’t get lost.

A bar sat at the far end of the ballroom. Why not? A drink might help settle his nerves. As he made his way he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He had to do a double-take. It was jarring. If he didn’t know he was dressed up, he may not have recognised himself. He looked that different.

A charge ran through the young man. Look at him. He wasn’t Ben anymore. He could be anyone now. Anyone he wanted to be. A new persona washed over him. He walked differently. He would talk differently. He was different. New Ben. Secret agent Ben. It occurred to him this was who he had always wanted to be since he was too small to remember.

He strode to the bar, wringing every drop from this new sense of confidence. “One champagne, please.”

The barman nodded. A woman watching from a few seats away smiled. Without a second thought, Ben approached.

“Hello.”

“Hello, yourself.”

“May I?” the youngster asked, indicating to the seat beside her.

“Help yourself.”

The barman handed Ben his drink.

“So,” Ben said to the woman.” Come here often?”

She laughed. “Yes, all the time. And other houses with their own ballrooms.”

The woman was pretty. Older. Not his Mum’s age or anything, but certainly older than him.

“Right,” Ben joined in. “I just came from a house that has three ballrooms, but one is better than none, I suppose.”

The woman laughed again. “You’re a riot.” She held out a hand for Ben to shake. “Miriam.”

“Dash.”

“Dash? How dashing,” she said, grazing his arm with her fingertips.

Holy crap. Maybe Shake was right. The tux was some kind of powerful weapon. I mean, here he was flirting with this attractive older woman. At least, Ben assumed they were flirting. Flirting was different with people his own age.

“Yes, it is a little excessive,” he said, looking around and keen to keep the conversation going. “The cleaning costs alone must be astronomical.”

“Jakob has bigger concerns than the cleaning costs, I can assure you,” Miriam said. “Oh, speak of the devil.”

Ben followed her eyes to where Jakob Baumer was making his way through the crowd. His heart jumped into his throat.

Showtime.

29

In another reality Ben would have happily stayed chatting to Miriam. He couldn’t though. He had a job to do. He stood.

“Pleasure meeting you, Miriam. Would you excuse me?”

She made a sad face. “Nice to meet you, Dash. Come find me again if you get bored.”

Feeling invincible, secret agent Ben followed Baumer discreetly. Keeping him in his eye line, yet being subtle. It was difficult. The guy knew everybody, meaning his progress through this crowd was stilted. Lots of handshakes and kisses and backslapping.

Eventually Baumer made his way to a young woman. Young by comparison to the average age of the party guests. Wearing a sheer gold gown that sparkled in the light, the