He must feel me watching him because, abruptly, his gaze lifts and rockets to mine. I don’t look away. I’m really of the mindset, right now, that avoidance gets me nowhere but ignored. I did a lot of that with my father. So here we are. He’s looking at me. I’m looking at him. He’s waiting on my next move. I decide my next move is to stop standing in the shadows.
Boldly, at least it’s bold to me, I cross the room and make a beeline for him. The minute I’m in front of him, he murmurs to the woman beside us. “We need a moment.”
The woman never even looks at me. She simply steps away, while I simply offer Sawyer my hand. “I’m sorry for whatever nasty thing my father did to you.”
His eyes narrow sharply, and he takes my hand but doesn’t let it go. “What nasty thing do you think your father did to me?”
“I don’t know, but you hate us with such viciousness, that it must have been pretty bad. And I know now what I didn’t know when he was alive. He was not a kind person.”
A waiter appears with a tray of whiskey cocktails. He releases my hand and takes one. I wave the waiter off. Now is not the time to get hazy minded. Sawyer sips his whiskey, studying me with a keen eye. “You expect me to believe that you didn’t know your father was an asshole?”
“I’m not proud of that fact, but it’s true. He was an asshole to me, but I stupidly believed he reserved that treatment just for me. He was quite good at making me see my flaws so that I didn’t see his. But I’m not him.”
He sips his whiskey. “The North family does know how to make a fine whiskey,” he comments dryly. “You’re dating Jax North, I hear.”
“I am. I hope that you won’t hold that against him. Mr. Sawyer—”
“Kent. Call me Kent.”
“Kent. I’m not my father,” I repeat, “and I’d like to think my brother isn’t either. I want to find a way to make peace with you but I guess that means I should ask a difficult question. My brother has never done anything to burn you, has he?”
“Your brother has always been an extension of your father.”
“Are you telling me he’s like my father?”
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t believe that he is, but I just want you to tell me that you feel the same. I need to know you know I’m sincere in my apology. That would be hard for you to accept if you felt my brother to be your enemy.”
“Your brother has yet to burn me.” His eyes sharpen. “I don’t plan to give him the chance.”
Relief washes over me hard and fast. My brother doesn’t share my father’s reputation. Thank you, Lord, and my mind starts to work. “What if we call a truce? What if we, in fact, found a way to make money together?”
“How exactly would competing hotels make money together?”
“A rewards program.”
“We have one and so do you.”
“Yes, but there’s always ways to improve on all existing programs. I’m creative. I’ll put together a proposal as to how we make a reward program work for us both beyond what’s in place for both brands.” I hold up a finger with an idea. “We aren’t as developed as you in Europe. What if we partnered with you to send people to you, and we get a small percentage of your sales?”
“They’ll find us on their own.”
“Until we open our brand there and compete. What if we just don’t do that? What if you’re our partner in specific locations?”
“You think your brother and your board are going to agree to that?”
“If you do the same for us in locations you’re not presently. We can’t stop each other from growing, but we could come up with target markets that work.”
He considers me a moment. “There might be a pebble of something good there,” he says. “I’ll agree that it might, and I mean might, be worthy of a conversation. If you’re involved.”
“I will be,” I assure him. “I propose a truce. Even a short one. Six months to see how we might be friends, who are also competitors, making money together instead of enemies trying to destroy the other. Because in war, there is destruction on both sides. I don’t want war with you.”
He laughs. “But you just told me you’ll fight hard if we go to war.”
“Would you want to partner with me if I didn’t have that in me?”
“You make a point, my dear. You make a point.”
“What am I missing?” Jax says, stepping to my side and glancing down at me.
“A truce.”
He arches a brow. “A truce?”
“Yes, North,” Kent confirms. “Your woman here just apologized for her asshole father and then convinced me there might be a way for us to profit together. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met.” He downs his drink. “She’s a keeper.” He eyes me. “Call me next week.” He shifts his attention back to me. “Send me an order form. Your whiskey’s too damn good to be in her brand and not mine.”
I rotate and face Jax, whose hands come down on my arms. “I can’t believe you just made that happen.”
I beam with my success. “I can’t either. I suggested we partner in locations where he has hotels and we don’t and vice versa, and I apologized and—”
Jax kisses me. “You did good, baby. Really damn good.”
“Should you be kissing me with your customers around.”
“Whiskey and kissing go together.”
I laugh, and he catches a piece of hair stuck on my lip and pulls it back. “You just sold my whiskey into Sawyer’s hotels for me. I’m giving you a piece of the profits.”
“You are too generous, Jax North, which is one of the reasons I like you so much.”
“We’re back to that? You like me?”
“Liking the man you’re with is important. People love people they don’t like. But back to the whiskey. I don’t want a commission. I just want all the bad to become good. Can we trust him?”
“We’ll know soon enough, but your brother might push back in all kinds of ways we need to talk about after my meeting, which I have to go into now, but we have a problem. Brody is here somewhere. I’m worried about leaving you out here alone.”
“You want me to live here, but you’re going to hide me from your brother for the rest of our lives?”
His eyes warm. “The rest of our lives?”
My eyes go wide. “Oh. I wasn’t suggesting—I was just—”
“The rest of our lives works for me.” He strokes my cheek. “Stay away from my brother. If you can’t, you know where to kick him.”
I laugh and watch him walk away, tall and confident, his stride graceful yet powerful. He is truly the king of this castle. And we’re talking about the rest of our lives here together. Feeling lighter than I have since my father’s passing, I rotate and scan the food, only to find Brody, standing in an archway, staring at me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Jax
Emma did what I damn sure didn’t do. She tamed the beast that is Kent Sawyer. One problem solved. Now it’s up to me to solve another. And that problem is her brother.
I work my way through the castle, stopped here and there on the way to my meeting, by a good half dozen customers. Finally, I break free and head to the library where I find Savage waiting for me just outside the door. “Grayson and Eric are already present and enjoying your fine whiskey,” he says. “Brody is also in the castle. We’ve got eyes on him and Emma, but I don’t know how the fuck he got in here. He’s not showing up on the cameras and no one saw him come in.”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“I will.” He motions to the door. “You need me in there.”
“I need you to protect Emma.”
“My men can protect Emma right now. You need me for this plan of yours.”
“And you’ll be involved, but right now, with Brody in the castle, it’s you I want protecting Emma. You’re who I know and trust.”
“Permission to fuck your brother up if necessary?”
“Just make sure it’s necessary.”
“I never indulge in random asshole beatings. I make sure they serve a purpose.”
He doesn’t even blink with that statement we both know isn’t true but right now, he works for me. He’s no bullshit, get the job done, and that’s exactly what I need right now. That and for my brother not to need an ass whooping by Savage.
I walk into the library and Grayson and Eric are lounging on a couch with food and drinks on the table in front of them. Both men stand up to greet me. Grayson tall with dark wavy hair and Eric equally as tall with brown wavy hair. Both mid-thirties. Both are in polo-style Bennett branded shirts and dress pants. Grayson was born into his money but smart enough to manage it into even bigger money. Eric, and his skills as a savant was part of how they both made insane amounts of cash.
And they did it all ethically. Grayson Bennett, like his father before him, might be a billionaire, but he’s a man of values. He’s a man you want to partner with.
A few minutes later, I’m in a chair across from them and we start the conversation. “I like Chance Knight,” Grayson says. “He reads like a good guy to me, but Eric shared your concerns where he’s concerned. It’s not hard for me to feel uneasy with him considering who his father was. In other words, you have my attention.”
“We have a strong interest in a merger with the Knight brand,” Eric says. “A change of leadership is often when these opportunities arise, but we need to feel good about how we go about this.”
“Then it’s a merger, not a partnership?” I ask.
“It’s evolved into a merger,” Eric confirms. “It started with talks of a brand partnership.”
“Honestly,” Grayson adds, “I’m spooked enough to pull of the deal all together, if this wasn’t such a damn good deal for all of us. A merger with Bennett controlling interest and our name on the hotels means market domination in a broader way.”
“He’s willing to get rid of the Knight name,” I say, a red flag that has my mind chasing his reasoning. “That’s unexpected. You’re sure about that?”
“It’s a surprising choice on his part,” Eric says. “But yes, in our private conversations, we were clear about this being an absolute must to complete this deal. He agreed rather easily, too easily, perhaps. Which in hindsight now, with your concerns on the table, is worthy of concern.”
“The only reason he’d make this decision,” I say, “in my humble opinion, is if he wants to bury something in the merger. And he wants to bury it deep.”
“Exactly where my head is at,” Eric agrees.
“Any idea what that might be?” Grayson asks.
Murder, I think, which I’ve alluded to with Eric, but do I really want to outright make such a statement, right here, right now, in Grayson’s company? The truth is, if I do, if I speak my mind, Grayson will kill the merger that Chance is clearly pushing to complete. In other words, revenge for Hunter’s death is here for my taking but at what consequence to my relationship with Emma?
***
Emma
Brody disappears into the hallway and I’m not foolish enough to follow him. Why would I? The man hates me. The man all but pushed me to my death. A thought that encourages me to eat another croissant while my mind keeps returning to that hourglass in Jax’s office. Why does it keep coming to my mind?
My phone blows up with several text messages from my real estate agent and my staff scouting property in Germany. Obviously, that country is still awake and working, which confirms why I need to be working. I should have asked Jax if I could use his office. I’m sure he won’t mind if I head that direction, but I really do want to be here when he finishes his meeting. I fill a plate with some food and walk to a table in the corner which is empty and actually has stools around it, wishing I had my MacBook with me.
I dial one of my German callers, and steal bites of cheese while the line rings and then in between my conversation with several people there. They’re panicking over the opening going well and while I’d normally be right there with them, riding that fear, I’m not right now. There’s more on my mind. There are bigger monsters to battle than an opening that might, or might not, go perfectly. And the idea of going to Germany right now is daunting. I need to stay here. I need to deal with the Knight and North war before it blows up into something worse than it already has become.
We need to know what happened to Hunter and who did it.
My mind goes back to the hourglass in Jax’s office. I need to stop thinking about this and find out why it’s on my mind. I dial Mindy Williams, from our corporate offices, who use to be my father’s assistant. “Emma, what can I do for you?”
“We used to carry these really cool hourglasses in our hotel stores, it was a few decades back.”
“I have one actually. Your mother gave it to me. She designed them. You knew that, right?”
“Really? No. I didn’t know that.”
“Yes, but they weren’t actually in the stores. They were gifts for special clients.”
“My mother worked?”
“She did. It didn’t last, of course. Your father didn’t approve of her being outside the home but she was much like you, my dear. Charming, and oh so good with the customers. She knew how to spoil them. Those hourglasses were quite pricy then and now. I had mine assessed last year. It’s worth five thousand dollars.”
“Wow. That’s crazy. Five thousand dollars?”
“I know, right? It is crazy. They were special gifts. Your mother even included a personal note at the bottom of each one in a secret compartment. I still have mine. I covet the note as much as the hourglass.”
“I wish I had one.”
“Your mother still has a few I believe.”
“Have you heard from her?”
“No, honey. She really has checked out since your dad died.”
My chest tightens with a memory of her crying by his casket. It was more emotion than I ever saw between them when he was alive. “Yes,” I say. “Yes, she did.” I’m about to end the call when another question occurs. “Was there a time when the North Whiskey family and my parents were close?”
“Not close, but Marcus North and his wife wined and dined your parents on a few fancy trips. Actually, your mother seemed to have gotten quite close to his wife. Why?”
My mother and Jax’s mother became friends? Only Jax’s mother was sleeping with my father. My father was such a bastard. “I’m dating Jax North. We were just talking about family history. I think I might design another hourglass for the holidays. We need to show our customers how present we are with the change of leadership.”
“That’s a fabulous idea.”
We chat a few more minutes about the details, and the idea really does grow on me. When finally, we disconnect, I do so with a sick feeling in my belly. There’s one more person with a motive for killing Hunter, one more person who might have wanted to protect her empire, her children, and her pride: my mother.
I stand up and dump my plate. I need to go to Jax’s office and see that hourglass. I need to know what the note says if there is one.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Emma
Heading away from the brunch, I step through the archway to find Savage guarding the door. “Going somewhere, my little pretty?” he asks, sounding like the big bad wolf.
“To Jax’s office. Is it safe? Because Brody being here makes me nervous.”
“Smith and I have your back.”
I glance around. “Where exactly is Smith?”
“Watching the camera feed we recorded last night. That little prick Brody was here last night, and we didn’t know it until the playback. Smith’s trying to figure out how he got in here.”
“Brody was here last night?” I ask.
“He was indeed.”
“He’d know how to get to the side of the castle, wearing that raincoat, without being seen,” I say. “And he could have left the note.” I frown. “No. Brody didn’t leave me anything. He wouldn’t accuse Jax of killing Hunter, and he wouldn’t want
me to know about the DNA test.”
“Agreed,” he says. “But I don’t like the idea of him getting in and out of the castle without me knowing it. I’ve had my life threatened if anything should happen to you.”
I arch a brow. “Jax threatened your life?”
He points fingers at his eyes. “It was in his eyes. And he said he trusts me. I take that shit seriously. You don’t get to die on him or me.”
“Well, I’m certainly glad to hear that. Jax’s office?”
He gives me a deadpan stare. “What do you need in Jax’s office?”
I could be defensive about that question, but I’m not. His nosiness is oddly comforting. No one, Brody included, will come at me with this big, offensive beast asking questions. “I might have found a clue in this mystery we’re trying to unravel on his bookshelf, that used to be his father’s bookshelf,” I explain. “It’s an hourglass that I thought was sold in our gift shops decades back. Turns out, it’s a pricy gift that my mother created and handed out to special clients. There’s a secret compartment at the bottom that holds a customized message. I need to see that message.”
Savage frowns. “You think your mother gave it to Jax’s father? Were they doing some sort of couple’s swap thing? Swingers maybe?”
“I don’t—no.” I grimace with the horrid idea. “I don’t think that at all. I mean, God, maybe. The images in my mind need to be scrubbed immediately.”
He laughs. “It’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
I grimace. “I guess I’m more PG than you. I was thinking my father gave it to them as a couple, but wrote her a note in the bottom.”
“You might be more PG than me, but that’s a fucked-up idea. Let’s go find out which fucked-up idea is right. Your bodyguard approves of this plan.” He motions to the door. “Let’s go.”
My bodyguard.
How did I get to a place where I started needing a bodyguard?
I didn’t, I think. Whoever killed Hunter got me here. “Let’s go,” I say, more motivated than ever to get to Jax’s office.
We make our way to a private hallway, minus the guests, just me and this jolly green giant of a man guarding me. A path that has us fading into the quieter portion of the castle. “I swear I need a drink,” I murmur, just thinking about his swingers comment. “But then I might not have been smart enough to accept an escort. Booze does that. It makes me stupid.”
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