The crisp autumn air barely phased the brooding man with the deceptively charming grin as he leaned against the hood of his sleek black Audi R8; waiting – and for someone with his easily angered temperament, quite patiently; for the chirpy real estate agent he had spoken with over the phone to show up.
Normally looking at properties wouldn't be such an oddity, but considering it was twenty one minutes past midnight on the deserted outskirts of Washington D.C, it would seem rather strange to most people. After all, he was a very busy man. Being the owner of several successful businesses and not having time during the day to shuffle around from property to property, he had his assistant contact several high end real estate agencies and finally found one that met his requirements.
Wanting an estate that had the comfort and familiarity of antique objects; the older the better in his opinion, and privacy – a definite must for someone who was a staple in the financial world, hoping to find a place that couldn't be easily seen from the street. Honestly, he felt his needs were pretty cut and dry, and had no desire to budge for anything less than what he was asking.
Though he may not be a celebrity, in the world of money, Derek Morgan's name was well known even if very few people could match a face to the legend - priding himself on always being elusive, but well sought out.
Pulling out his pocket watch: the intricate golden design alerting him that another ten minutes had passed. Craning his neck, stretching the taut muscle; biding his time by looking beyond the rustic, wrought iron gate, covered with the heavy decaying vines of ivy. Something he already appreciated as well as the long winding, gravel driveway, which he quickly estimated to be almost a mile long.
The clouds that were blocking direct moonlight had moved, revealing more details of the property – discovering gigantic oak trees that must have been at least three stories tall, with snarled and twisted branches that barely rustled in the wind.
Minutes later Derek was still looking at the trees when he heard two quick honks and saw a set of bright headlights pointed in his direction. Controlling his reaction to cover his eyes; narrowing them instead as the midsize sedan parked a few feet behind Derek's sports car.
A woman with a complexion quite similar to his own stepped out of her car; holding a briefcase under one arm and a large key that looked like it fit in the gate in her other hand – giving him a simple once over, before tossing him a teasing little smirk.
"Hello, Mr. Morgan. I hope you weren't waiting too long for me," Tamara Barnes said.
"Not at all. I was just admiring the landscape," throwing her a charming smile; instantly picking up the scent of her fruity perfume that had him itchy with dislike – being the type of man who preferred the aroma of vanilla and jasmine on a woman.
"Well Mr. Morgan, as soon as I get the gate open, we can drive on up, and I can walk you around the property," raising one of his expressive brows as she almost dropped the key; awkwardly giggling as she tried to composes herself – only to clear her throat when she almost fumbled the briefcase.
"That sounds fine. You know it doesn't make sense to take two cars up. You can ride in with me if you'd like," offering her a cajoling smile; flashing his dimples – a true seducer, through and through.
"If you don't mind, then I don't see why not," doe-like eyes glimmering with trust; blinking at him, fervently nodding her head in approval.
"Here, let me see that. I'd hate for you to ruin your pretty dress with that old gate," Derek said as he took the heavy key from Tamara; inserting it with a gentle force, easily pushing the bulky gate open as if it weighed nothing.
Glancing briefly at the full moon, he walked around the front of his car to open the passenger door for Tamara; who eagerly got in and gave him a shy smile in return. Quickly getting in on his side, he began the long drive up the road leading to the estate; enjoying the soothing crunch of gravel beneath the tires.
Tamara pointed out several things that would appeal to his requirements. Pleased that he was right when he guessed that the driveway was a mile long and very far from the street; listening intently as she revealed that the trees covering the estate were at least two hundred years old – a fact, he tried to seem impressed with considering half of them were rotted and would need to be trimmed or cut down.
Several minutes later the pair finally made it to the front of the expansive estate. Stepping out of the vehicle Derek's glimmering amber eyes perused the dark grey, and obviously archaic manor, noticing the giant bay windows; reminding himself to tell his assistant to get those covered before he moved in. Taking one quick look around him; hoping the furniture inside was less tacky than the miscellaneous patio furniture that littered the overgrown yard – not that he had a budget, but he clearly was going to need to spend more money to get this place up to his standards.
Gesturing around at the ginormous space around them "So, will there be a…," tucking a caramel curl behind her ear; batting her lashes at him, "a missus Morgan joining you."
Having expected that question, his face was already poised in a warm smile, shaking his head as he checked his watch, pointing to the large wooden door with the ornate lion knocker. "Shall we."
Grinning at him, waving the keys around. "Oh, yes! I can't wait to show you around," fumbling with the keys for a bit, unsure of which dangling one would work. "Got it!"
The door creaked open, forcing a warm gust of breeze to swoosh by, flooding his senses with the distinct smell of musty sandalwood. Not waiting for his eyes to adjust he walked right in, turning right; entering what he assumed to be was an old parlor room, ignoring Tamara's warnings as she searched for the lights.
"Mr. Morgan?" voice a bit pitchy, uncomfortable with the sudden darkness; the blue hue of the moon adding a creepy aura to the estate at night – something he found very appealing. "Please be careful! Oh, found them!"
"It's perfect down here," emerging from a small study from the left. "How many bedrooms are upstairs?" already heading up the wide mahogany staircase.
"How did you get-…" eyes wide in confusion, quickly running in her heels to keep up with him. "Um, I think...," flipping through her binder, long manicured nail running across the pages. "Um, oh okay, well there are seven on this floor. Four smaller rooms on the first floor, and a guest house out back," trying to catch her breath while he quickly peered through each room.
Taking a moment to admire the master bedroom; the onyx and crimson of fabrics blended magnificently with the dark mahogany paneling – displaying the giant king sized bed with the aged, but sturdy iron headboard. The glass and granite fireplace, with shimmering crystals stood against the wall leading to the master bathroom. Catching sight of the starburst mirror hanging above the bed, he was able to see the long clawfoot tub and waterfall shower; subconsciously licking his teeth at the pleasures he would be seeking inside the baroque mosaic retreat.
Right when she found the page with all the information, excited to offer him some insight into the newly refurbished room only to frown when he swiftly turned around.
"Is there an attic," waiting as she searched the pages, his patience thinning with her disorganization. He didn't like to waste his time after all – call it, a pet peeve of his.
"Yes it has one, there's also a basement," smiling; batting those fake lashes once again. "But, are you sure you don't want to check out the bedroom first? I mean it has all new furniture. We can try out the bed," she looked away; a shrill cackle springing forth from her overly glossed lips. "Oh, gosh! I didn't mean it like that," gently tapping his bicep, squeezing firmly.
"I would like to see the basement," eyes narrowed; amber glittering obsidian, walking back down the stairs.
"Oh, okay!" huffing in irritation; snapping her binder closed as she slowly trailed behind him. "It's going to be at the end of the hall on the right," going through the ring of keys once more. "I mean there's nothing really down there, just an old well. It might even be dried up at this point," eyes widening at her realtor mistake. "Well I mean, I'm sure it works…or…we can get it fixed."
The end of the hall was built out of brick and portraits of families from decades ago hung along the walls; their eyes seeming to follow you no matter where you stepped – stopping once more until she could open the black wooden door with bolted locks. Getting the first one open she tried once more to change his mind. "There's a library behind the study? And an arboretum off the nook next to the kitchen? We haven't even seen the best parts,"
Sensing her nerves; it was almost one in the morning after all, and basements had the tendency to be foreboding – he took a step closer until her back was nestled against his front, breathing hot air into her dark curls. "Nothing to worry 'bout Tamara…I just want to check it out. I have a lot of storage I need to keep safe."
Her petite frame stiffened, only to relax when he smiled those dimples at her; reassuring her that they would check out the rest of the property right after. Another moment of fiddling with keys; they finally unlocked the door, which he had to jimmy open, nearly tripping over the first step.
Gas lamps flickered to life; revealing the narrow stone staircase; the familiar oaky vanilla sweetness of wine wafted over them and he couldn't help but smile – grabbing her hand and quickly taking the long trip down to the bottom.
His eyes were wide with wonder, as she squinted; waving her hands frantically around to get rid of cobwebs, glancing around the floor for any rodents.
A stack of barrels lined one wall; the old equipment that made his beloved alcohol was rusted and useless, but the architecture behind it was simply fascinating – another thing he would put time in to fix up, and make proper use of.
Around the corner, against the far wall; behind old pillars – stood the massive cobblestone well.
"So here it is," binder folded closely to her chest, bouncing from heel to heel. "Is it, okay?"
Peering into the dark depths; fishing into his pockets, lighting the match; eyes smoldering as he dropped the little flame – pleased to see an endless descent. "Oh, it's…perfect."
Audibly sighing in relief, though her fear elicited a throaty groan from his lips – beads of sweat pooling between his furrowed brows as he tried to tamp down his arousal…body tingling with hunger.
He had missed dinner after all.
"Tamara," whispering her name, startling her as he wrapped one muscled arm around her waist.
"Thank you," face pressed into her curls, other hand soothing circles on her back. "For finding me this place."
"I-It…was no…problem," panting; leaning her head back against his shoulder – easily transfixed, with the sway of his hips as he rocked her back and forth.
"There's just one little…thing."
"Hmm," eyes closing, blissfully unaware.
"You're in my way," his voice had dropped; the menacing tone causing her eyes to fly open.
Before Tamara could take in her next breath, the life had already escaped her body. Droplets of blood covered the cement floor; the pungent smell of copper mixing with the acerbic tang of liquor.
Lifting her body with ease, he sat her on the edge of the well; closing her bloodshot eyes, tucking a few soft tendrils behind her ear.
"Donec iterum convenient," whispering like a prayer; kissing her on the forehead – and then he let her go.
Taking but a brief moment, wiping the sticky crimson spatter off his face; he grabbed his phone – making demands to his assistant as he left the chill of the basement.
A/N Donec iterum convenient: Until we meet again.
