He hung up before his poor assistant could say another word.
Why the sweet woman tolerated him, I didn’t know. Actually, I wasn’t sure why most people tolerated Garrett Wilkinson. They called him The Devil inside the courtroom and outside of it. Oh, he could put on the charm better than anyone I knew, but beneath the expensive exterior lived a man who thrived on cruelty. Definitely a sadist. And the women loved him. Including his sweetheart of an assistant.
“She’s going to quit on you one of these days,” I said, amused. Or, at least, she damn well should.
“Alicia?” Garrett scoffed and took another swig of his beer. “I pay her very well. Which is why she should know better than to bother me with irrelevant details.”
“Maybe it was important.”
“All my clients are healthy and not currently seeking legal help. The rest can wait, including whatever message she received that sounded urgent. I’ll judge that on Monday.” He shrugged and relaxed back into his chair with a bored expression.
Fair enough.
I gulped down my water while he enjoyed his beer, the silence companionable and over too quickly as the elevator opened in the foyer. “Did reception forget that I live here and that they should call before sending people up?” I wondered out loud.
“Skeleton key,” Evan replied as he entered with a woman at his side. “You know, since I own the hotel.”
“And here I thought this was my floor,” I drawled, not bothering to stand in greeting.
“Just as charming as ever,” my big brother said, sarcasm thick in his voice.
“At least he’s sober,” Garrett pointed out, grinning as he set down his empty bottle.
“That’s something,” Evan agreed.
I didn’t bother commenting. They both knew I didn’t drink anymore, even though the media enjoyed saying otherwise. I eyed the dark-haired beauty beside Evan. “You must be my future sister-in-law.” She was pretty enough, I supposed. But she lost significant points for being desperate enough to go on a reality dating show to secure a husband.
She arched a brow. “And you must be my future brother-in-law. I hear you’re a real rebel.”
I smiled, not at all bothered by the jibe because I already had a return comment waiting and ready for her. “Better a rebel than a gold digger, sweetheart,” I replied, lifting my bottle in mock salute.
Evan’s expression morphed into one of pure rage. “You will not—”
His future bride pressed her palm to his chest. “Oh, I’ve got this.” She turned a succulent smile my way, her smoldering dark eyes giving away her true intent. “From what Evan tells me, you’re fully aware of how the media can twist a story. So you’ll understand when I tell you not to believe everything you read.”
“Does that mean you didn’t meet my brother as a contestant on The Prince’s Game?” I asked, knowing full well that was how they met.
“Are you aware that I have an identical twin sister?” she countered.
“Garrett may have mentioned it.” Something about not desiring her, which I didn’t understand. Sarah wasn’t bad to look at, which meant her sister would be just as appealing. At least physically. And Garrett typically only cared about the exterior.
“Abby—Sarah’s sister—auditioned on her behalf,” Garrett explained, ruining the woman’s punch line and earning a glower from her. “I drafted the contract between them during the show. They essentially staged everything except for their clear feelings for one another.” He sounded disgusted by the end of his explanation, earning him a look from my big brother.
“The whole thing was a gambit?” I asked, actually intrigued. “And no one thought to tell me until now?”
“Not like I see or speak to you very often,” Evan drawled.
“Yet, you want me to be part of this farce of a wedding party and play the loyal little brother.” I smirked. “I’m so honored.”
“You’re family,” Evan replied. “I want you there.”
“You want me there, or Jonah wants me there?” I searched his expression and smiled when I caught the flicker of hesitation in his brown eyes—eyes that rivaled my own. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“Look, it’s not—”
I waved him off. “I don’t need an explanation, big brother. I’m here for the tux fitting, and maybe I’ll show up in a few weeks.” I shrugged. “Or maybe I won’t. Either way, you can tell our father that you tried.”
Our eight-year age gap had always weighed heavily between us. Evan was twelve when my father first brought me home. He’d been an only child for over a decade, and I’d quickly become the ugly thorn in his parents’ side. The bastard child our father forced Evan’s mother to claim as her own. Even had her name put on my birth certificate.
It made me the enemy from day one.
Which only worsened when Jonah forced me to live at the Mershano estate full-time at the ripe age of five. It broke my birth mother’s heart. I learned later that she died shortly after, something Jonah never told me.
Because he was an asshole.
Regardless, it stood to reason Evan never cared for me much. And Jonah didn’t help matters by constantly lording my existence over his head.
Hell, it was my fault Evan had to go on the damn dating show to begin with.
The stupid Mershano inheritance clause said the eldest had to produce an heir by his thirty-eighth year or forfeit his claim. It would have been a moot threat had I not created Jamie. Naturally, Jonah held my son over Evan’s head, forcing my big brother to engage in a compromise that led to The Prince’s Game.
Thus, the resulting engagement.
And now, as he’d just turned thirty-seven, the two lovebirds would finally wed, thereby securing his claim to Mershano Suites.
As if I desired a future in hotel management.
I just wanted to be left alone.
“Can you both give us a moment?” Evan asked, glancing at his bride-to-be and Garrett.
Oh, great. Big brother wants to have a chat. These never ended well.
“I need another beer anyway,” Garrett said, hopping up and hooking his arm around Sarah’s shoulders. “Gives me a chance to have the best-friend chat with the bride, too.”
“How exciting,” she deadpanned. “Are you going to try to force another prenup on me?”
He chuckled as he guided her away. “Your fiancé won’t let me.”
“Damn straight,” my brother called after him. “Jackass,” he added under his breath as he took over the chair Garrett had just vacated. Evan hooked his ankle over his opposite knee and stared at me.
I finished my water while I waited, setting it aside and mimicking his position with an arched brow. If he thought I intended to speak first, then we’d be playing the silent game for a while.
“I want you there,” Evan said slowly, his gaze intense. “Not because of our father but because of me. I gave up trying to please that man a decade ago. And before you say I went on that damn charade of a show to appease him, I didn’t. I agreed because I wanted to protect the company. Not from you but from him.”
“He would have just put you in charge anyway,” I pointed out.
“And you would have done everything in your power to rebel. Right?”
I lifted a shoulder. “I guess we’ll never have to know, will we?”
“You know I’d share all of this with you; just say the word.”
“I don’t want it.”
“I know.”
“It was never mine,” I added. “This whole life. I never wanted any of it.”
“That doesn’t stop you from enjoying it, though, does it?”
I snorted. “You think you understand me and what I do. But you don’t.”
“I understand a lot more than you give me credit for,” he retorted. “Everything you do is a fuck you to the old man, but deep down, that’s not who you are at all. You’re brilliant. You’re caring. And you’re loyal to a fault.”
“And here I thought you k
new nothing about me,” I drawled, deflecting.
“Cut the act, Wyatt. You can pull this shit with Jonah but not with me. I’m telling you I want you at the wedding as my brother, not because I’m being told to, not because I have to, but because I want to. And if you would take five minutes to get to know Sarah, you’d see that this wedding is all about what we want, not what anyone else expects.”
“Is that why it’s a two-week affair?” I asked, actually curious. Because who required attendees to stay for fourteen fucking days?
His eyes narrowed. “Sarah wanted a vacation more than a wedding. We compromised.”
“A vacation?”
“She thinks I work too much.”
“You do,” I agreed.
Evan sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, you know, if I had more help…”
“No.” He’d done this to me before, offered to share the company with me. “I’m not interested.”
He stared me down for a long moment, then shook his head. “I’m not our father, Wyatt.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you hate me as much as you hate him? You don’t think I suffered, too? That I didn’t hate every moment of our childhood?”
“You had Will.”
“And you had Mia,” he tossed back, not missing a beat. “We both had our escapes, but we should be allies here. Jonah Mershano is the devil. Not me.”
I fucking hated this argument. We had it almost every time I saw him. Granted, the last time was about five years ago in this same fucking room. And it had ended with me throwing one hell of a party, one the media caught wind of and plastered all over the gossip mags. Jonah had been furious. I’d been quite pleased.
But that sort of reaction no longer appealed. Especially with Jamie in the other room. My son.
Thinking about him curled my lips at the edges. What would he think of Evan? Would he find him to be a suitable uncle? Perhaps he’d prefer him. Evan was older, more mature, more successful.
An ideal candidate to be a dad.
My smile fell.
What did I truly offer Jamie aside from a hefty bank account? Isn’t that the only thing Jonah ever gave me?
“What?” Evan demanded, catching my scowl.
“Nothing.” I shook my head, rubbing a hand over my face. “I, uh, I brought Jamie with me.”
Surprise flickered in Evan’s features. “As in, my nephew?”
I nodded. “Yeah. He’s asleep. But I think… I think he’ll like you.” Probably more than me. Which he should. Evan was a good role model. He worked hard, managed a billion-dollar company, had a strong moral compass, and put up with my shit on a regular basis.
“Is the, uh, aunt here?”
“Avery,” I corrected him, my chest warming with her name. “Nah, I gave her the weekend off. She works too hard. I actually scheduled a spa weekend for her.” For whatever reason, I’d wanted to take care of her, to give her a way to relax. Hopefully, she would enjoy it.
Evan’s brow furrowed. “I thought she just wanted custody for financial reasons?”
I grunted. “Garrett’s a dick.” Because I knew he was the one who had said that. Of course, I thought the same only three weeks ago. “Avery isn’t Jean.” Far from it. Avery was caring, hardworking, and dedicated. While her sister, well, she was not any of those things.
“You’d like her,” I realized. “Avery, I mean.”
His eyebrow arched upward. “Maybe you should bring her to the wedding.”
I gave him a look. “I haven’t even decided if I am going yet.”
“You’re going.”
“This again.” I spread my arms out across the back of the couch. “We both know the harder you push, the more I’ll rebel.”
“The old you, yes.” His gaze ran over my T-shirt and jeans. “But you’re wiser now.”
“Am I?” I mused. “Says who?”
“No one.” His lips curled slowly. “But your actions tell me everything I need to know.” He glanced at the closed bedroom door, then back at me. “Can I meet him tomorrow?”
His words surprised me. “You want to meet Jamie?”
“Of course I do. He’s my nephew.” Emotion softened his gaze. “Sarah and I have discussed kids, you know, for the future. But I worry about how that will work with our conflicting schedules.” He frowned. “Well, anyway, yes, I’d like to meet him. If you’re comfortable with it.”
“Yeah, I mean, sure. But he doesn’t know…” I trailed off, palming the back of my neck. “He thinks we’re friends.”
Shock registered in Evan’s features. “You haven’t told him…?”
“Not exactly sure how, if I’m honest. Especially considering the complications with his, uh, aunt.”
“What about her?”
“She’s pretty much raised him as her own,” I admitted softly. “Taking him away from her…” I trailed off, unable to say the words out loud. It would make me no better than our father. A boy needed his mother. I knew that better than anyone.
I couldn’t do that to Jamie.
But I also couldn’t let him go.
He was mine. My responsibility. My son.
There had to be some sort of middle ground. A compromise. A way to make this work.
“Hold that thought,” a deep voice said as a man with a beard appeared in the living area.
“Where the hell did you come from?” Evan demanded, clearly familiar with the intruder.
“The stairs,” he replied. “I went to your penthouse first. It was empty, so I came down here.”
“How’d you get the code?” I wondered, confused. Yes, there were stairwells—a fire safety precaution. But this floor had restricted access. As did the top floor.
The man grinned. “You’d be surprised what I know, Mister Mershano. Which is exactly why Garrett hired me.” He set a file on the coffee table. “We need to talk about Avery Perry.”
This must be Kincaid. I sat forward, intrigued that he wanted to get right to the point. “What did you find out about her?”
“Well.” He crossed his thick arms over a chest of solid muscle. “Either Miss Perry is a brilliant liar or she’s been played even worse than you.”
I stared at him, my heart skipping a beat. “Tell me everything.”
16
Avery
Monday.
That was all my lawyer could say. We had to wait until Monday, which was—I grappled on Jamie’s nightstand for my phone and looked at the time—four hours from now.
Four hours until midnight.
Then it would be Monday.
Then we could call Garrett’s office again and find out what the hell Wyatt was thinking. Why he’d chosen to rip Jamie from my life. What grounds he had to find me unfit as a guardian.
Of course, Scott said it could have nothing to do with me and everything to do with Wyatt. Jamie was his son; he could do whatever he wanted—
“Auntie A!” The familiar voice sing-songed through my thoughts, causing me to wince.
And now I’m hearing things.
This had been the weekend from hell. I tried calling Wyatt almost nonstop all of Friday night while I read everything I could on the internet about my rights as legal guardian.
News flash: I had none. Wyatt being a fit, capable birth father superseded any rights I might have possessed as an aunt. Even if I did take care of Jamie for the first four years of his life.
I buried my head in Jamie’s pillow, inhaling his lingering essence. It mingled with my tears, providing a scent of sadness so profound it stole my breath and shattered my heart all over again.
Four hours.
Monday.
It would only be midnight, but fuck if I cared. I would start blowing up whatever phones I needed to—
“Auntie A!” Jamie’s voice sounded louder now, clouding over my thoughts and causing my shoulders to shake harder. I’d slept in his room last night, after I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, and spent most of today crying in
his bed.
Jean’s death had hurt.
Losing Jamie rendered me useless. It destroyed me. He’d become my life, my purpose, and I loved him more than anything else in the world.
“Auntie A?” the confused voice came from right behind me, followed by a touch against my arm that had my eyes flashing open. “Are you sleeping?”
I blinked several times. “Jamie?” It came out dry, broken, and nothing like my usual voice.
“Are you sick?” he asked, giving my arm a shake. “Do you need soup?” His hand left. “I think she needs soup, rebel friend. That’s what I get when I’m sick. Can we make her soup?”
“I can make her soup,” a deep voice replied, sending a chill down my spine. “But you need to go to bed. It’s already late, and you have preschool tomorrow.”
“But Auntie A doesn’t feel good, so I has to take care of her. S’my job.”
Is this real?
“It can be my job for the night, little man. You need sleep. You’ve had a busy weekend.”
Jamie nudged my arm again. “Auntie A?”
I finally rolled over to look at him, half-afraid he might be a figment of my imagination, but his adorable little face filled my vision. He’s here. He’s really here!
“Jamie…” I pulled him into a hug and buried my face in his neck. “You’re here.” I couldn’t believe it. But he was real. And standing in his room.
“Yeah, I’m here.” He patted my bicep. “You sick, Auntie A?”
God, that little voice. I’d missed it so damn much. “I thought I was never going to see you again,” I whispered, reeling from the feel of him in my arms. I hugged him tighter, inhaling his sweet scent, memorizing him, and adoring him.
My Jamie.
My life.
“Oh, oh, oh! Gift!” He tapped my arm again. “Lemme go. I wanna get it.”
But I couldn’t release him, too afraid he might disappear again.
“Auntie A,” he whined, stomping his foot. “I wanna get your present!”
“I’ll grab it, Jamie,” Wyatt replied, reminding me that he stood in the doorway.
I refused to acknowledge him, too afraid of what I might see in his expression. Had they returned just for Jamie’s things? To leave again?
The Rebel’s Redemption: Mershano Empire Series Page 11