The helicopter touches down with a smooth, almost gentle landing. As the blades slow, I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
My hands are still shaking, and I can’t tell if it’s from the adrenaline or from the way Benedict’s been looking at me, his eyes sharp, calculating, yet…somehow also warm.
When the door opens, a blast of cool air hits me. We’ve landed at a sprawling mansion, all sleek lines and glowing lights, nestled on what looks like acres of private land.
Benedict steps out first, then turns to help me down, his hand firm and steady.
“Welcome to my home,” he says, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.
I can barely respond as I take it all in. This place makes Alex’s mansion look like a dollhouse. The realization sinks in — Benedict Worthington isn’t just rich. He’s filthy rich.
He leads me inside, where a man in a tuxedo is waiting by the door. The man immediately hands Benedict a sleek black folder, and without missing a beat, Benedict turns and offers it to me.
“What’s this?” I ask, even though part of me already knows.