So, it's been awhile since finishing my last story, and I hope that there's still a few of you out there following me to find this new story! Let's see, what can I say about this one...it's AU, it's MerDer, it's part drama, part romance, part mystery I guess.
Premise: Derek is the owner of a hot new restaurant in Seattle - he's successful, he's charming, he's got everything he's ever wanted. He also has some secrets about his past that he prefers stay buried. His life is turned upside down by a tragic event, and Meredith is a newspaper reporter that is assigned to cover the story. She finds herself drawn to Derek, and they fall into a scorching affair despite her misgivings about what he may or may not have done. To some extent, the story is influenced by 'The Thomas Crowne Affair' with Pierce Brosnan & Rene Russo - there's some serious sizzle in that movie.
I'm a little uncertain about your response to this fic, since Derek is a little darker than usual in this one, but I had this idea for the story and I hope you will enjoy it!
Rating: Mature of course, and while I will try not to get too explicit...it will probably get steamy, so please read at your own discretion!
Disclaimer: I do not own Greys Anatomy, or the characters therein, they belong to Shonda Rhimes & Co. This is a work of fiction, meant only to entertain and amuse, so please read, enjoy and (most importantly) review!
Also big thanks to Ellie & Jill for your support and feedback as I've been working on this!
Art of Deception
Chapter One - Tragic Turn of Events
It was late, nearly 2:30 in the morning when Derek Shepherd walked into his bedroom, shrugging out of his Armani suit jacket as he crossed the polished hardwood floor. He tossed it onto the bed, then undid the black onyx cufflinks at his wrists, and laid them on the nightstand. As usual, he was still jazzed from the evening's business; the restaurant had been busy and that always gave him a thrill.
As the owner Seattle's fabulously popular new restaurant Ravish, he was where he'd worked hard to get to for some time, and he loved every moment of his life. He may have done a few things that weren't exactly legal along the way to achieving this success, but that was all behind him. His home was modern and sleek, with soaring open beam ceilings and expanses of glass that looked out over the bay. He had powerful fast cars in his garage, along with the black and chrome motorcycle he'd just purchased, and he had a closet full of designer clothes tailored to fit him like a glove. He had his choice of women, who were charmed by his good looks; the thick black hair, the blue eyes, the lean body honed to perfection in the gym and playing squash. What more could a man ask for?
He splashed some Scotch into a glass and glanced out the window. The rain was coming down in sheets, and the wind was raising huge waves that lashed against the shoreline. It was a good night to be indoors, and he sipped his drink absently, happy to be there alone. While he was never short of feminine company, he very seldom brought anyone home. It was easier to love them and leave them, as he had done tonight with his latest paramour; no attachments, no expectations, just pure physical enjoyment. There was no room in his life for romantic entanglements.
Finishing the last of his drink, he set the glass aside and pulled his shirt open as he headed towards the shower. He could still smell the too strong perfume on his skin, and he needed to unwind under the multitude of sprays before trying to sleep. His cell phone stopped him before he started the water running, and he checked the display. "Damn it, what the hell d'you want now..." he muttered, before answering. "Gareth, I thought we finished discussing this. I'm not getting involved in your plan this time."
"Derek, listen to me...I did it, without you. But there's a problem..."
If there was one thing in his life that was a problem, it was Derek's younger brother, Gareth. He was not as ambitious as Derek, and didn't feel required to stay on the straight and narrow. As a result, Gareth often needed to be bailed out with cash to pay off his creditors. It was a source of never-ending aggravation for Derek, and he wished he could just ship Gareth off somewhere far away to grow up and deal with his own shit. In fact, he was close to the point of telling Gareth that, but he wasn't sure it would do much good. Before their mother passed away, Gareth had been the favorite son, every whim indulged, and he had never really been pushed to make anything of himself.
For now, Derek blew out an exasperated breath before speaking. "So, despite my warnings to the contrary, you went ahead and stole that painting, didn't you?"
"Yeah, but I- I can't talk right now...I think there's someone following me. Can you come and meet me somewhere?" Gareth's voice was hushed, his breathing a little rapid.
"It's nearly 3 a.m., I'm not about to go out in this weather because you're paranoid. I'm sure this can wait until a more reasonable time." Derek turned the shower on, ready to end the call.
"But..."
"No, Gareth, I'm sure no one is after you, I taught you better than that. Call me tomorrow afternoon before I go to work. I'll meet you then, all right? Now go home and get some sleep." Derek ended the call without waiting for his brother to try and convince him of the urgency of his predicament. Resolutely, he put the phone aside on the counter and stripped off the rest of his clothes. He stepped into the shower, and the hot water hit him from every angle and he closed his eyes, as he let it wash away any tension in his body. He slicked his hair out of his eyes, and tipped his head back, enjoying the sensual feel of the water on his skin.
On the vanity, his cell phone vibrated again, and Gareth's number flashed on the screen before it faded away. Under the splashing water, Derek was unaware of the call, and by the time he was done, he went to bed without bothering to look at his phone again.
In the morning, he was sitting on the deck that overlooked the bay, enjoying the paper and a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice. The sun had come out and the sky was clear of all clouds, all traces of the previous night's storm erased completely. He had already been out for a morning run, and felt refreshed and energized as usual.
The cell phone at his elbow vibrated, and he groaned inwardly, anticipating Gareth's call again. He snatched it up, but the call display indicated a strange number. "Yes, Derek Shepherd speaking," he said brusquely, setting the paper aside.
"Mr. Shepherd, this is Detective Owen Hunt of the Seattle police."
"Is there a problem?"
"Yes sir, I'm afraid there is. Are you available to speak with me right now?"
"Of course."
"Good. I'll be there in five minutes."
"What's this about?"
"I need to speak to you in person, sir."
Derek felt a chill at the words. "All right. I'll see you shortly then." He set his phone down, and took a deep breath. He hated dealing with the police; after all the years of keeping a low profile, he didn't feel comfortable speaking with them. Call it his self-preservation mode, or whatever you wanted, but it was never a good thing when the police came calling. It wasn't even five minutes later, and the doorbell chimed. His housekeeper was about to cross the foyer to answer it, when Derek intercepted her. "I've got it, Lucinda."
Standing on the front portico, surveying the elegant landscaping, was obviously Det. Hunt, dressed in a rumpled dark suit, holding his badge for Derek to see. He was broad shouldered, with close cropped red hair and a neat beard and moustache. His blue eyes were sharp and belied the rumpled appearance of his suit. "Mr. Shepherd?"
"Yes. Now what's this all about? Is it about my brother? Tell me, has he been arrested? Cracked up his car?" Derek crossed his arms, waiting for the news.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but Gareth Shepherd was found this morning on the shore of Elliot Bay...an apparent drowning, but the coroner still needs to confirm that."
Derek stared at the detective, uncomprehending for a moment. "Drowned? There must be some mistake...you mean he's dead?"
"Yes, sir, I'm sorry for your loss. We identified him by his driver's license, but we need you to come and give a positive ID." Detective Hunt nodded shortly, waiting for a response.
"Damnit, this is unbelievable. I just talked to him last night."
Hunt consulted his notebook. "What time was that?"
Derek rubbed his jaw. "After 2:30, I think..."
"Time of death is estimated at 3:30 a.m., so you may have been the last person to speak to him. We'll need to ask you some questions as well."
"Wait, you think I had something to do with his death?" Derek asked sharply. "Just because I talked to him last? He's always calling at odd hours, and he was always in trouble. God knows how many people might have wanted him dead!"
"If you say so, sir. There was no cell phone on him when we found him, so there's no way to corroborate your statement at the moment. His phone records will, of course, be examined if it turns out foul play was involved. For now, you need to go to the morgue and we can go from there." Hunt tucked his notepad away, and nodded briskly. "I trust you'll be along shortly, or do I need to take you in?"
"I'll be right there, Detective. No need to have a police escort," Derek said curtly.
Once he had shut the door, Derek closed his eyes, feeling a wash of sorrow at the reality of what he'd just been told. Gareth had been a pain in the ass, but he had been the only family he'd had left, until now. Heading for his bedroom to get dressed, he glanced at the phone in his hand again, thinking about his conversation with Gareth, when he realized there had been a missed call shortly after that. Another from Gareth's cell phone, obviously after Derek had stepped into the shower, and now he wished he hadn't been so abrupt with Gareth. Shaking his head, he was about to set the phone on the nightstand, when it rang again.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Shepherd! Is it true your brother was found dead? Was he murdered? Any comments?"
"Who is this?"
"I'm a reporter from the Seattle Times...care to speak to us?"
"NO! Leave me alone!" Derek snapped. He shut his phone off and hurled it onto the unmade bed. The feeding frenzy was beginning.
"Grey! Get your ass in here!"
Mark Sloan looked over the group of reporters that crowded the open area of the Seattle Enquirer newspaper office, his eyes landing on the slim blonde who looked up from her computer screen at the sound of his shout. Meredith Grey was busy trying to finish typing a story for the next edition of the paper, and she frowned before turning back to the computer.
"What is it?" she asked, tapping a few more words out on the keyboard.
"I have something for you, get in here!" he repeated, waving her over.
She pushed away from her desk and got to her feet. "Fine, but you can explain why I don't have this piece done," she warned him, walking past him into the cluttered office. "You know the one about the dentist convention…everything you ever wanted to know about dental hygiene but were afraid to ask!"
"Fuck that," Mark grinned, dropping into the chair behind his desk, and resting his feet on the edge. "I have a much more interesting story for you to follow." He laced his fingers behind his head. He was toned and trim, wearing a dark cashmere sweater and black slacks, his manner easy and yet latently sensual. They had been involved once, but now they were just friends, or rather, boss and employee.
Meredith perched in the chair across from him. "Do tell…what is it now?" Their paper was not the mainstream one, but they managed to get a scoop from time to time that kept them more respectable than a gossip rag.
"You know who Derek Shepherd is?" he asked.
"Of course. He's the owner of that new restaurant everyone's talking about."
"Have you eaten there?"
"Are you kidding? On what I get paid here?" she scoffed, leaning back in the chair. She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and crossed her legs. Her short skirt hiked up on her thigh, as she shifted in the chair.
"Well, you might get your chance. I'm putting you on the story to cover his brother's death," Mark grinned at her, grabbing a baseball from the desk to toss from hand to hand as he watched her reaction.
"What?" Meredith sat up excitedly. "When did that happen?"
"Last night. I got the story on the scanner. I think Shepherd's being taken in for questioning, so get down to the police station and see what you can find out. This is gonna be big!"
"You think he killed his brother?"
"Who knows? No matter what, he's a local celebrity and it's a great story, now get to it!"
Meredith jumped to her feet. "Yes, boss!"
"Just be careful, Grey. From what I hear, he's got women falling over themselves to sleep with him. Don't be fooled by his good looks."
"Who me? After you, who can measure up? I'm immune," she teased him, before making her escape, laughing to herself as he tossed the baseball towards the door she closed behind her.
Well...are you intrigued? Confused? Want more? Sound off in the reviews and let me know!