But he didn’t. Instead, he released me after one single minute in heaven. With his promise hanging in the air between us, he went upstairs alone. I was left clutching the banister, betrayed by my own emotions. Flynn definitely wasn’t making things easy.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
FLYNN
I could taste victory on the horizon. I knew Breanna was as good as mine, but there was that question of the other guy she was seeing. I didn’t want to share. I wanted to get rid of him so that I could stake my claim and become everything she needed in a man. Until then, I was going to deprive both of us of the climax we were seeking.
The next morning, I came downstairs to find Bre and Seanan at the breakfast table. I kissed my daughter on the top of her head and shot a warning glance at Bre. The woman took it and gave me one back, not willing to put up with any bullshit.
I left for the office, determined to clear the debris so that I could get what I wanted from her. I needed to know who the other guy was and what he had that I didn’t. I got on the phone to my private investigators, setting them loose on the task. It took only a few hours before they had some intel to share.
Hud came into my office, clearly upset that I was following up on the leads. He’d seen what had happened between me and Kelly, and he thought I was straying down the same path. In my mind, they were total opposites. Bre was responsible and caring whereas Kelly had been impulsive and a bit insane. But both had been women in my employ, and I could understand where Hud was coming from.
“I received some information from the detective agency,” Hud said unhappily.
“And?” I leaned back, ready to hear it.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes.”
“But wouldn’t it be better—”
“No.”
“But if you would just—”
“Hud!” I snapped. “This is my decision. I want to know who she went out with.”
Hud handed over a file and left without a word. I opened it, eager to read what the detectives had discovered. It was a printed version of an email along with several photographs that had been printed onto regular copy paper. I read the missive before moving on to the pictures.
“Breanna Murphy took client’s town car into Dublin on the night in question. She arrived at Club Ocean at 21:23 in the evening. She was accompanied by one Millie Jackson, twenty-six-year-old female from Chicago, Illinois. She left the establishment around midnight with Connor White, thirty-nine-year-old professor from Dublin.”
The photos were grainy security cam stills from the club. They showed Breanna and the man Connor walking hand in hand toward the door. Another still from the parking lot showed them getting into an expensive sports car.
The next bit of information was all about Connor. The detectives had found out where he worked, what his job title was, and where he hung his hat. It was an upscale condo in one of the newer sections of the city, precisely where I would have lived if I wanted to remain in the city. I had actually been to that condominium and knew from experience that it was impressive. So this Connor fellow had money. He was also older than me by more than five years.
I wondered if that was something that Breanna was into. At least I wasn’t in competition with someone her own age. Connor was a professor, although with his fancy digs and high-end car, I knew he had another source of income.
I wanted to meet him. If he was going to take Bre away from me, I wanted to confront him on it. He had to know that I was interested, and that I was a force to be reckoned with. I dialed the number the detectives had provided and was put through to the university switchboard. Connor either wasn’t at his desk or was screening his calls. The phone when straight to voicemail.
I debated leaving a message. If it was a cell phone, I often didn’t. An email would suffice, and I knew people checked email more regularly than they did voicemail. But I wasn’t sure if I wanted my request to be written down. It definitely wasn’t a professional phone call, and I didn’t want to give Connor any ammunition in case of litigation.
“Hello,” I said when the voicemail prompt concluded. “This is Flynn Campbell. I think you know who I am. I’d like to meet with you.” I left my cell phone number so that he could call or text, and then went back to work.
Luckily, I didn’t have any meetings planned for the day. I was just going through paperwork and even that wasn’t pressing. Hud poked his head back in to ask me how it was going. Considering his earlier distaste for my personal project, I didn’t enlighten him. He would just have to wait.
A few hours later, Connor called me back. My phone recognized the number as one I had called previously, and even speculated on the origin. The caller ID said:Maybe Connor White. I inhaled sharply. I didn’t feel nervous; maybe angry would have been a better descriptor. This man was diverting Bre’s attention from her job, and from me in particular. I wasn’t going to be so heavy-handed as to suggest he look the other way; I just wanted to evaluate my competition.
“This is Flynn,” I answered in my habitual business tone.
“This is Connor White,” he responded. “You called me?”
“Yes. I was wondering if we could meet.”
“Why do you want to meet?” He sounded suspicious.
“I think you know why.”