Between the sheets of power

Beneath the image pristine

As the sunlight streamed through the windows, Jeffrey Benson observed the color draining from her cheeks. "Your deceitful game is over, my dear," he muttered to himself, astonished that she could be so naive as to think he wouldn't uncover the truth about her company. Though he had to admit, she had been cunning. But her cleverness failed to surpass his innate skepticism and lack of faith in human nature.

At first glance, her financial records appeared to indicate a struggling business. And her friendly and talkative demeanor was a tactic that might have fooled a less cynical and experienced man than himself. Bethany Sinclair presented herself as engaging, enthusiastic, and remarkably transparent. Another man might have been swayed by her admission of disappointment that her business hadn't turned a profit yet. Another man might have fallen for her supposed innocence.

Luckily for him, and unfortunately for her, he had a knack for identifying greedy and unscrupulous women. If that hadn't been the case, he wouldn't have become suspicious and uncovered the truth that Café Magnolia was far from what it pretended to be and that Bethany Sinclair was anything but the caring and generous employer she claimed to be.

She had the audacity to show up here and ask him for more money for her deceptive scheme, revealing her greed and lack of conscience.

In usual circumstances, he would delegate one of his staff members to resolve this issue, but for Bethany Sinclair, he decided to confront her personally. As he looked at her immaculate nails and lustrous hair, a simmering anger began to rise within him. She appeared pampered and secure, seemingly oblivious to the hardships others faced.

Did she understand what it meant to be cold and hungry, to try and find shelter for the night? No, it was clear that she had never experienced such struggles. Her biggest concerns likely revolved around fashion choices, like which heels matched her outfits.

When she reached out to him for a meeting, his initial reaction was to decline. Why bother with her? But then he decided on a different approach – retribution. Bethany Sinclair had ruined lives, and she was on the verge of ruining more. She needed to face the consequences of her unscrupulous actions. She needed to suffer, although he hadn't yet determined how.

As he observed her now, dressed in an outrageously expensive suit and provocative shoes, asking him to extend his loan to her business, he felt justified in his decision. How far, he idly wondered while admiring her slender ankles and soft calves, would she go to persuade him?

It was a shame that he kept his s*x life and business life separate, for there was undeniable chemistry between them from the moment she stumbled on the walkway. In that instant, the spark of lust had almost overwhelmed the anger simmering inside him. Yet, she had noticed him and clutched her briefcase, a stark reminder of her true motive – money.

Apart from her glossy hair, tantalizing cleavage, and long legs, Bethany Sinclair was no different from any other avaricious woman. Although dark memories threatened to resurface, he pushed them aside and focused his anger on Bethany Sinclair.

He bitterly realized why her father hadn't appeared. It was evident that they didn't want anything to diminish the pure and virginal image she projected in her pristine white shirt and her perfectly clean, shiny hair. If she had been standing before a judge and jury, they would have acquitted her of murder without hesitation.

Her body remained motionless, her face contorted with feigned confusion as she pondered his question. "Why would I struggle to sleep at night?" she innocently asked, her complexion as unblemished and typically English as clotted cream.

It was evident to him that she had been raised in a traditional English manner. Most likely, she had attended one of those strict girls' boarding schools that taught young women the essential skill of extracting wealth from men.

The usual approach was to marry a wealthy man and then divorce him, taking him for everything he had. The three-step process of female money-making: Reel him in, Rip him off, and Retire.

He couldn't help but wonder why Bethany Sinclair hadn't chosen that path. Perhaps she found it too troublesome.

Suppressing his natural inclination to confront her with the information he possessed, he decided to extend their meeting for as long as possible.

Confronting her would make it too easy for her, wouldn't it? She would likely initially deny everything until she realized the extent of his knowledge. Then, she would probably resort to tears or seduction to dissuade him from taking legal action. Either way, she would leave California empty-handed, without her loan, and it would be the end of the matter.

But he didn't want it to end there.

He wanted her to suffer. He wanted her to experience the same worry and uncertainty that she had inflicted upon others. And he could see that she was indeed worried, despite her attempts to hide it. Bethany Sinclair was nervous.

"Why do you think I might have trouble sleeping at night?" Her wide blue eyes stared at him innocently. "Is it because I'm concerned about how we'll repay our debts if you insist on calling in your loan?"

No, that wasn't what he had meant, but he decided to play along. "Are you worried?" he asked.

"Of course, I am," she replied, offering a shy smile that faded under his stern gaze. "So many people are relying on me, but you have to push that out of your mind, don't you? Otherwise, you'd go crazy."

Leaning back in his chair, he observed her closely, searching for any cracks, any signs of her humanity. Any sign of remorse. But there was nothing. Only a hint of wariness that suggested he was being unreasonable. "So you don't think about other people?"

Her expression shifted into a slight frown. "Well, it's difficult not to consider their well-being when you're responsible for their livelihood. But it's vital to separate emotions from the actions that need to be taken, otherwise everyone suffers."