In a world where the public knows about the existence of supernatural creatures, hardened human private eye Jake Monroe makes a living cracking cases with a paranormal element. A resident of LA’s gayest neighborhood, Jake fills his days with work, drink, and men.
When famous social media influencer Ashton Kane is haunted by an incubus, Jake takes the case, enlisting his trusty assistant Val and ex-boyfriend Nico to help him. Jake soon finds himself the target of several supernatural assassins while debating if he should get back together with Nico, with whom he always had incredible sex but also terrible fights.
Eventually Jake comes face to face with the incubus in a climactic showdown. Will he find the inner strength needed to face his demons, both literal and figurative?
The drive to Beverly Hills was a blur of lush greenery and opulent mansions, but I barely noticed any of it. My mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of Ashton -- his enigmatic smile, the curve of his muscles beneath his clothes, the way he made me feel like a teenager with a crush. It was infuriating, but also intoxicating.
As I pulled up to the wrought-iron gates of Ashton's estate, I forced myself to focus on the job at hand. I wasn't here to indulge in fantasies. I was here to find answers.
"Name?" asked the security guard through the intercom.
"Jake Monroe, private investigator," I replied. The gates swung open, and I eased my car up the long, winding driveway, marveling at the sheer size of the place.
Upon arriving at the front entrance, I took a deep breath. I stepped out of my car and approached the front door, hitting the doorbell. As if on cue, the door swung open to reveal Bobby, the assistant who’d accompanied Ashton to my office. A small army of other assistants moved around the place behind him, each impeccably dressed and just as camera-ready as Ashton seemed to always be.
"Hello again, Mr. Monroe," Bobby said, extending his hand.
"Call me Jake, Bobby," I said. "I'm here to look into the recent theft."
"Of course, let me show you around," he replied, ushering me inside the sprawling mansion.
As we walked through the opulent halls, I couldn't help but observe the behavior of the other assistants. They moved with a strange fluidity, as if they were an extension of Ashton himself. I tried to pick up on any subtle clues that might hint at their involvement in his condition.
"Is everyone here accounted for?" I asked Bobby, trying to sound casual.
"You know. Vetted. The other assistants."
"Absolutely," Bobby replied. "We're all very loyal to Ashton."
"No one might want to steal from him?" I couldn't help but push. "I'm assuming all the assistants have access codes to get inside the residence."
Bobby looked at me, shocked. "Of course, but ... why would any of us do that? This job gives us everything we need."
"Sometimes people want more than they need," I said, watching his reaction closely. He seemed genuinely confused.
"Jake, none of the staff would ever harm Ashton," Bobby said, his voice firm. "We care about him too much. He's incredible."
I noticed something in his eyes as he spoke. A particular look when he mentioned Ashton’s name. I’d seen it plenty of times before.
An unrequited crush. The kid had it hard for his boss.
"Okay," I replied, shrugging. "I'm just here to find answers, not point fingers."
"Understood," Bobby said. "Now, let me show you the room where the statue was stolen."
* * * *
After I'd scoped out the art room, I asked Bobby where Ashton was, and he gave me directions to the pool in the backyard. I exited the house into a magnificent garden area, with an almost Olympic-sized pool beyond. I saw Ashton's head bobbing in the water.
I called out to him, and he turned towards me.
"Hey, Jake!" Ashton called out to me from across the garden, his voice as smooth and enticing as a well-aged whiskey. He propped himself up on his elbows the side of the pool, his body still submerged from the chest down. "Why don't you join me for a swim? I could use the company."
"Thanks, but I'm here on business," I replied, trying to maintain my professional demeanor while my eyes involuntarily drifted down his toned, sun-kissed arms, glistening with droplets of water. I wondered what kind of bathing suit was hidden by from sight. Somehow I doubted he wore baggy board shorts. Probably skimpy brief-style, or maybe even a thong. I felt my dick pulse at the thought.
"Come on, man. Everyone needs a break sometimes." He grinned, tossing his wet hair back and causing more beads of water to cascade down his chest. It was hard not to imagine running my hands over those chiseled arms, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine.
"Well ..." I hesitated. This was dangerous territory, and I knew it. I couldn't afford to jeopardize this investigation by giving in to my desires. With every step towards the edge of the pool, I felt the tightrope I walked growing thinner.
"There we go!" Ashton exclaimed, his smile infectious. "You can leave your clothes over there on the patio chairs."
"I didn't bring a swimsuit," I muttered, cursing myself for the hot flush rising to my face.
"No problem," he said nonchalantly, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. "You don't need one."