G.W. Gresham - Fiction Writer
When Texas billionaire, Martin Wentworth discovers his daughter is building a hotel and casino on her private island in the Gulf Of Mexico he must do everything in his power to stop her to protect his secret.
Martin Wentworth, a Texas billionaire, is best summed up as a combination of JR Ewing and Tony Soprano.
His daughter, Katherine Wentworth, is so determined to build her hotel that she has to partner with the Viatsi crime family for protection from her own father.
When Katherine asks Cole Tyler to help her build her dream hotel it drops him in the middle of the deadly Wentworth family war. But is his infatuation with Katherine worth the ticking time bomb that surrounds her?
"Perfect Lies" offers readers a fast-paced and entertaining plot that twists and turns exactly like you want a fiction thriller to perform.
If you enter the world of this super rich and powerful Texas family, be warned, it may be difficult for you to decide the difference between the truth and Perfect Lies.
By G W Gresham
THE GOVERNOR WALKED out to the pool and saw the reflections dancing from the light blue water. Steam rose and disappeared quickly into the cool night air. He laid his glasses down and dove into the warm water.
The water sizzled when he met it, and by the time he surfaced, he felt like he was cooking in hot grease. The smells of his own burning flesh filled his nostrils. His skin split open and blood mixed with the water.
He desperately tried to yell but nothing came out of his mouth, already deformed. He tried to pull himself out of the pool but had no strength. He fell back in the water and his skin and muscle fell off of his bones and sank to the bottom. The pool consumed him so quick, in a matter of minutes; not even his bones remained.
The black limousine pulled in front of the Wentworth building, and Martin Wentworth admired his creation. The forty floors of gold tinted glass looked like it belonged at the end of the rainbow.
The uniformed driver quickly got out and opened the rear door.
Martin’s custom-made alligator cowboy boots hit the ground and his large frame rose to its six foot two height. His two hundred and twenty-pound body filled out his western cut suit. He finished his look off with a 100 X beaver cowboy hat.
He smiled at the thought of making his mark on the world, and at age fifty-six, still had a lot more years to enjoy it. He loved the power his money gave him, but like so many self-made men, it was not only the money, but the game that was important too.
The two uniformed attendants opened the ten-foot, double glass doors when Martin stepped close.
He carried a designer briefcase in his left hand and shook each of their hands with his right. “Dean, how are you doin’?”
“I’m just fine, Mr. Wentworth. How are you today, sir?”
“I’m rich, Dean. How in the hell do you think I am?”
“Yes, sir.” Dean laughed.
“Good morning, Mr. Wentworth.” The second young man smiled at him.
Martin looked him up and down once. “I don’t believe I know you, son.”
“I’m Cody Thomas. It’s my pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Cody Thomas?” Martin was surprised. “Didn’t you play pro ball for Dallas?”
“A few years back before my knee blew out.”
“So what are you doing here?”
“Gotta’ make a living, sir.”
“Well I’ll have to see if I can find a more suitable job for you. I’ll have my assistant look into it and contact you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wentworth.” The young man looked pleased.
Martin took off his hat and entered the lobby. He walked directly toward an attractive, blond woman behind the magazine counter. She looked especially good today. “Doris, I swear you get prettier every time I see you. Darlin’, how are you?”
She smiled when she saw him. “Good morning, Mr. Wentworth. I’m just fine and you?”
“Well, I’m always better when I see your bright little face to start my day off. It’s a good thing I’m a married man, sweetheart. Otherwise, you and I would be an item.”
“Mr. Wentworth, I love it when you stop by and see me. Can I offer you the morning paper today?”
“Genuine Southern hospitality. I love that, and I will take a paper from you. Just do me a favor and don’t ever change.” Martin reached in his pocket and gave the woman a hundred-dollar bill. When she saw the money, he gestured to her not to say anything. He winked at her, walked away, and got into the elevator.
Martin took a gold card from his jacket pocket and inserted it into the control panel. The card gave him access to the private offices on the upper floors of the building.
The elevator reached the thirty-seventh floor and the doors opened to a long hallway. Martin walked out a door that opened to an outside terrace that over looked downtown Houston.
On Martin’s left, a man sat at a patio table wearing an expensive Italian suit. He smoked a cigarette and drank coffee.
Martin’s older brother, Matthew, sat with the man and the sweet smell of his Cuban cigar consumed the air.
Martin smiled at the two men as he approached them.
“This must be the smoking section.” He reached out and shook hands with the man in the Italian suit.
“Mr. Wentworth, it’s my pleasure to see you, sir,” he said, and stood up.
“Austin, the pleasure is mine. I can’t tell you how pleased I am with your work. The situation with the governor turned out as perfect as I expected.” Martin sat down at the table with the two men.
Matthew poured him a cup of coffee and pushed it over to him.
Martin pulled an envelope out of his jacket pocket and set it in front of Austin. “The amount we discussed and a little bonus for a job well done. I continue to be impressed with the flawless and discreet work you do.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wentworth,” Austin said. He picked up the envelope and put it in his jacket pocket.
“You do get creative, Austin, I’ll give you that.” Martin drank his coffee.
“The acid not only kills but disposes of any evidence. A trick I learned when I worked for the CIA.”
“Well, it took care of our problem. I’ll be in touch again soon.”
Austin shook hands with Martin and disappeared through a door in the building.
Martin and Matthew went through another door and walked down a hallway filled with offices. They opened twelve-foot double doors into Martin’s luxurious office and walked in.
It looked like the Houston skyline occupied the room with them. Large windows surrounded them and splashed a spectacular view of tall, office buildings.
Pictures of Martin smiling with a number of American Presidents hung on the walls along with the many awards his company, Texmar, had received.
Western sculptures rested on pedestals built into the walls and were lit by recessed lights.
Martin sat in a brown, leather chair behind a massive, solid oak desk. He picked up the phone, and punched a button. “Susie, would you hold my calls for a few minutes, darlin’?” He smiled and hung up the phone.
Matthew sat in a chair in front of Martin’s desk.
Martin’s son, Marty, walked in the office and closed the tall doors behind him. He smiled at his father and handed him a folded piece of paper.
“It seems as though the governor of the great state of Texas is missing, gentleman. Doesn’t that just break you all up? Lieutenant Governor Simms is being sworn in as we speak. That means our project in the gulf can be started back up immediately. You’ve gotta’ love a politician who takes your money?” Martin said smiling at his brother, Matthew.
Matthew breathed out a sigh of relief. “It’s gonna’’ be nice without him for a change. We’ll make more money than we could ever imagine with Simms in office.”
Marty fixed drinks at the bar. “I think we should have hung him from the flagpole at the capitol. His staff could have found him in the morning.”
Martin chuckled at his son’s comment. “I suppose you would have drug the man through the streets first?”
Marty rolled his eyes. “I wish you would have let me handle it. For all of the trouble he caused us, he should have suffered more.”
Martin took the drink from Marty. “This will be a profitable year for us, gentlemen. Texmar is about to take a giant step forward.” Martin raised his glass for a toast. “Here’s to the new governor of the great state of Texas. Gentlemen, we now have total control over this state.”