Mikayla [Orchidea: Love on the Bayou 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (2 page)

“Anytime, sista, anytime.”

Mikayla looked down at her phone and saw the new message. She didn’t recognize the number, so she listened to the voice message.

“Hello, Miss Aubert, my name is William Bently III, and I am interested in scheduling an appointment to see 1254 Burrens Place. You came highly recommended. I am in New Orleans for the next two days before I must leave for business in Germany. Could you please contact me in the next twenty minutes to set something up immediately? I will pay you for your time and of course reimburse you for any inconvenience this may cause for cancelling all other appointments. I look forward to hearing back from you.”

Illeanna was shocked. Who the hell recommended her? Burrens Place was a six-million-dollar estate, and she wasn’t certain she liked this guy’s attitude. But then he sounded like he was used to ordering people around and paying for inconveniences, and he was interested in the highest-priced property she liked a lot. It would give her an opportunity to show off her skills as an agent to Shelly Merchot, a realtor at Sotheby’s showing that home. Wouldn’t it be awesome if she could sell the home instead of Shelly? This was great. She must find out who kept recommending her, but first she had to call Mr. Bently.

She made the phone call, and ten minutes later she was making plans to meet him in an hour, cancelling all other customers for this one man. He sounded so intriguing on the phone, and she had forgotten to ask who had recommended her. Damn! She would find out when she met him in an hour. For now, she needed to reschedule the other appointments for later tomorrow or in the week and if need be she would cancel her appointment with Dr. Fromm and his brother. They hadn’t decided which places to look at yet but not as high priced as Mr. Bently’s. She buzzed her secretary so they could start rearranging.

* * * *

The ocean breeze blew the cream-colored sheer curtains back away from the balcony doors. He could see the turquoise water from where he sat enjoying the morning paper. He held the phone to his ear, listening to the latest update and hoping that the time for action was drawing near. Two long months of waiting, hiding, running to escape capture was his motivation for revenge.

“Tell me that you have a plan,” Bennitto Flores stated into the phone.

“The woman is being constantly guarded. When her men aren’t with her, she is with two sisters and still guarded.”

“She is with all five of the men? Like together intimately still?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Interesting. Lie low and let me know if and when things change. If they continue, my lack of patience may force me to make a rash decision. I want revenge upon these men. Keep me posted.”

Bennitto hung up the phone and sighed in anger and frustration. He wanted to take Illeanna from them. He wanted to make their lives miserable for destroying his plans.

The phone rang again, and Bennitto looked at the caller ID. It was an informant of his.

“Yes?”

“They picked up Julio Puentes in the Cayman Islands. What would you like me to do?”

“Who has him?”

“CIA.”

“Motherfuckers! They think they can find me?” He thought about it for a moment. The Feds and the CIA were after him. This wasn’t good. They needed to be persuaded to retreat. He had to make a move, but his inside connections were refusing contact now that he was a wanted criminal. Perhaps he should come up with a new hit list. That would send a clear message.

“Take care of it. You know what to do, just be sure to not get caught.”

“Sí, Senor Flores.”

Bennitto stood up and walked closer to the balcony in the large villa off the coast of Havana. He had freedom here, a new life if he played his cards correctly. But considering none of his previous business partners wanted to conduct any business with him because of his current “hot” situation, he focused on revenge. He had plenty of money, enough to last a lifetime and then some. He would get what he was after. He would take away something that would make the message loud and clear to never mess with Bennitto Flores again.

Pierre needed to pick the locations of interest for his newest project. He was in need of a realtor and didn’t want to use his regular person, Giselle. Lawrence Murphy, a friend, had mentioned that Pierre’s brother Antoine had recommended a young woman by the name of Mikayla Aubert to some friends in the area. So he decided to give her a call. The house was currently listed by another real estate agency but he had heard negative opinions about the agent and decided to give this Aubert woman a call.

He had heard through the grapevine that one of his competitors was interested in an estate to possibly begin a new business venture, and sure enough it was Pierre’s top choice. As Pierre looked into the location, he realized that it was exactly what he had been searching for to renovate and create the bed-and-breakfast solely to accommodate business travelers.

He glanced down at his phone to view any missed text messages. He was hoping that their brother Douglas would return his texts or his calls, but Douglas was still pissed at Michael and Antoine. That man sure could hold grudges. As he spoke to Mikayla Aubert over the telephone, she seemed very professional and had a raspy, rather sexy voice. For some strange reason he was excited about meeting her. Antoine was very picky when it came to women. He rarely dated due to his line of work as a doctor and felt that commitment was difficult. Could he possibly have an interest in this Aubert woman? Michael on the other hand was so gung ho about his CIA position that he feared he would have to leave at any moment for a case and sometimes for weeks at a time. He didn’t think that was fair. They had been acting very strangely after they dealt with a common case and a wounded law enforcement officer. Pierre wondered if there was more to that. He had a sixth sense when it came to certain things, and now it seemed his curiosity was running a bit wild.

Pierre Fromm straightened out his designer tie and checked his reflection in the mirror. He ran a hand through his jet-black hair, shoulder length and slicked back so it wouldn’t hang directly over his shoulders. Truth be known, he hated wearing designer suits all the time and looked forward to the weekends and the laid-back attire of jeans and a T-shirt. He stared at his reflection, surprised at how excited he was to meet the mystery woman. His green eyes nearly sparkled. He had been told that his piercing green eyes scared the crap out of his business associates and made him appear scrupulous and hard. Having those characteristics made him into the wealthy entrepreneur he was today.

He picked up his cell phone. “Isaac, is the car ready? Very well. I am on my way down.”

He headed toward the main door of his penthouse suite and exited through the private elevator. The moment the main doors opened, Isaac, his driver and guard, was waiting for him.

“We will be meeting the real estate agent at two o’clock sharp. I would like to arrive a little earlier so I can check out the views,” he stated as Isaac opened the side door to the black Range Rover.

His phone buzzed a few times during the fifteen-minute ride out to the location. None of them were from Douglas. He answered his calls then told his secretary to hold all other calls until his notification. He wondered if he should call Antoine or Michael and ask about this Mikayla woman, but then he would be disappointed if either of them were interested in her and that he might be as well.

This is ludicrous! I haven’t even met the woman yet. What am I thinking?

As they pulled onto Burrens Place, the large estate came into view. The pictures had not done it justice. The landscaping needed minor updating. There was a long driveway, hidden from the side road that led straight up to the front of the house and a circular driveway. It was definitely private and secluded, which was what his clients would be after. He immediately noticed the two women speaking by the front door. A blonde, dressed in a purple, very fitted dress, looked toward the vehicle as Isaac approached. She actually posed, allowing the side slit of her dress to reveal her long, cream-colored thigh. It was kind of high and sexy for a day business dress. She wasn’t half bad looking either.

Beside her stood another woman with shoulder-length black hair wearing an olive-green, slim-fitting dress that flared at the bottom. He wasn’t sure which one was Mikayla Aubert, but he was hoping the second one.

Isaac got out of the car and walked around to open Pierre’s door.

“Hello, Mr. Bently, I presume, I am Shelly Merchot, from Sotheby’s Realty.” The blonde moved toward him, blue eyes bright and sparkling as she reached out her hand. Her thick accent was French and seemed laid on and fake. He was good at recognizing all things authentic. He was still trying to remember that the Bently name would be considered fake, but it was a way of separating himself from his brothers for security and safety purposes.

Her breasts poured from her top as he shook her hand and eyed her briefly, summing her up as “easy” before letting his eyes roam over the other woman.

“Mr. Bently, I’m Mikayla Aubert from Aubert’s Realty. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” she told him as he reached for her hand and held her gaze. She was stunning, with big brown eyes and plump red lips. Her dress was sophisticated and classy and only dipped slightly in the neckline. Their hands touched and wow, did he feel an instant attraction to her. He was thrilled until he thought about his brothers. Antoine and Michael would definitely find this woman to be attractive. She was almost too beautiful and with very little makeup as well. She pulled away and turned from his gaze blushing.
Sweet, very sweet.

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Aubert. Are you able to show me around?” he asked, and the blonde intervened.

“It would probably be in your best interest to allow me to show you around, Mr. Bently, or can I call you by your first name?” she asked with a wink, and he didn’t care for her one bit. She also looked down at Mikayla, and that annoyed him. He was instantly kind of protective of the woman and felt the need to defend her. A quick glance at Mikayla and he could tell she was uncomfortable.

“You can call me Mr. Bently, and since Mikayla is my agent, I do believe that she is more than capable to show me around the home and surroundings.”

“Oh, well we’ll have to see about the grounds, and I need to verify whether you can actually afford this dwelling before I can allow you entry. Had Miss Aubert explained to you, this is an exclusive listing, and other parties are interested,” she countered. Before he could respond, Mikayla was speaking.

“Miss Merchot, I do believe that this residence has been on the market for quite some time due to the significant price tag and renovations needed for this dwelling. I can assure you that Mr. Bently is a busy man and would not waste his time visiting homes in New Orleans when he has to catch a plane in a few hours for Germany on business. Now if you will excuse us, you are impeding on Mr. Bently’s time, and he is a very busy and important person. Later.” Mikayla ushered with her hand for him to follow her, and Pierre smirked as he followed her toward the front door.

* * * *

Mikayla’s heart was pounding inside of her chest. Mr. Bently was absolutely gorgeous, and Shelly Merchot was nothing but a stuck-up bitch! She took a few steady breaths trying to calm her annoyance and focused on the man walking beside her. There was something familiar about him, but she brushed that off as attraction to the man. He was obviously a very wealthy man and appeared to be used to giving orders and leading. At least she hoped that he was wealthy because right now this could be the deal of the year for her or rather the largest monetary pay she would have ever received doing this work. She cleared her throat and began to explain about the home, pointing out numerous things to improve upon or leave, depending on how nostalgic he wanted the home to remain. It was indeed centuries old.

He walked right beside her or very close behind her as they strolled through each room. She couldn’t help but enjoy his scent of aftershave, soap, and sophistication. She suddenly felt way out of her league here but focused on the job. She needed this.

* * * *

Pierre watched her walk through the foyer and explain the dimensions of the home and the many acres of property, but he missed most of it as he focused on her beauty. She had the face of a porcelain doll, an exquisite body, and a sexy tone of voice.

“How long have you been a realtor, Miss Aubert?” he asked, wanting to hear more of her seductive voice.

“Oh for about four years now.”

“Four years? Certainly, that’s not a long time at all. You own the place as well?” he asked, surprised. She did seem rather young to own the business.

“I can assure you that I know what I am doing. I started in the business as a teenager, working the phones, setting up appointments and learning about the realty business. By twenty I was an agent, and the owner had offered me a share in the place by twenty-one.”

“So you have a partner?”

“Not anymore. I brought her out over two years ago. Would you like to see the kitchen area? It is quite lovely and right off the entrance are two sitting areas to eat, one inside and one outside.”

“Sure, lead the way.” He followed her and listened to her descriptions. Her low heels clicked along the marble flooring, and her hips swayed in a way that appealed greatly to his manhood that now stood at complete attention. He strained to inhale more of her sweet, fresh perfume and nearly stumbled into her. Damn, he was acting like an inexperienced teenager. She really did know her stuff, including the materials used around the home, the exact dates of renovations over the centuries, and some information on the past owners. She was young though. Younger than him by a good number of years. He figured at least seven. He thought about what she told him and how she was a partner with her boss at twenty and bought out her boss’s share at twenty-two.