Free Conquest by S. J. Frost Page A

building off to the side that looked like a Victorian coach house and stable, though judging from the six large doors on it, he assumed it was actually another garage and from the depth of the building, it could easily hold more than six cars. The doors to the attached garage opened, and he saw two empty bays. The third held a restored black ‘67 Mustang Fastback. He pulled in and got out of his truck.
“That Mustang is awesome. Is it a real GT500?” Jesse asked.
    Evan climbed the couple steps to the access door. “Yeah. It was my dad’s. You probably saw the twelve-car garage when you came in, but all it’s got in it is my beater and my baby.”
    “What’s your baby?”
“Enzo Ferrari.”
“What’s your beater?”
    “Cadillac Escalade. My car collection is pretty lame right now, but I’m trying to build it back up. I put in an order for a new Lamborghini Murcielago a couple weeks ago, but it won’t be ready for a while.”
    Jesse followed Evan inside and closed the door behind him. While Evan punched his code into the security system keypad by the door, Jesse stepped down a short hall to the entrance room with walls paneled from the floor to the vaulted ceilings in richly colored wooden rectangles carved in relief. An open flight of broad, dark wood stairs was directly across from the front doors, and the wood floor beneath him shone with polish. Across from him, he could see into the family room through a wood-trimmed open doorway that arched in a sharp Gothic peak.
    Everything in the house looked new and immaculate, yet underneath it, Jesse could feel the weight of history. From the architecture and interior design, he guessed the latest the main structure could have been built was the 1920s. He noticed a few cardboard boxes near the doorway to the family room.
“Did you just move in?”
     
“Last week,” Evan said, brushing against him as he moved past.
    Evan led the way across the entrance room to the right of the stairs and through another open arched doorway to the kitchen.
    Jesse’s eyes roamed around the kitchen. It looked larger than his apartment. It had all stainless steel appliances, dark cherry cabinets, countertops of beige granite flecked with black, and tile flooring in mixed shades of browns and tans. A breakfast counter with stools tucked underneath was across from the refrigerator.
Jesse pulled out a stool and sat down. “Your house is incredible.”
    “Thanks. It had been on the market for a while waiting for someone with the cash the buy it, so I was able to move in pretty quick. Everything from the first set of gates to a half mile beyond where the private road dead-ends and on both sides is mine, too.”
    Jesse’s mind staggered at one person owning so much. “Even the beach?”
“Yeah.” Evan bent down to look in the fridge. “Is Guinness okay?”
“That’d be great.”
    Evan pulled out two beers and popped the caps. He extended one bottle toward Jesse, then paused with it just out of his reach. “You’re not going to tell on me for corrupting a minor if I give you this, are you?”
    Jesse stopped his mind before it galloped away with thoughts of all the ways he’d love to have Evan corrupt him, and chuckled. “No, don’t worry about it. It’s not like it’s my first drink, anyway.”
    Evan handed him the beer. He lifted his own to his lips, mumbling against the bottle, “And it’s not like you’ll be leaving tonight.”
Jesse looked up at him. “Did you say something?” Evan answered him with a grin as he drank.
    Jesse put the bottle to his lips. Having never tasted dark beer before, he took a tentative sip, then a longer drink. “That’s really good,” he said, lowering the bottle.
“You want to talk about good, I practically survived off premium sake in Japan when I was there.”
    A quizzical look fell on Jesse’s face. “Is that where you ran away to after you quit performing?”
“I didn’t run away. I was just on an extended worldwide road trip.”