“Am I sure about leaving you to your own devices?” I know that’s not what he meant. He knows I know, and gives me a slow blink.
“Are you sure about going home with Nate?”
“Nate’s home is in Clear Ridge. And so’s mine.” I gesture around the living room where Walt’s dropped not one but two pairs of shoes and left them there. “Clean up while I’m away, will you? We could also use some groceries. There’s a list on the fridge.”
“Viv.”
“Yes. I’m sure about going to Chicago with Nate. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Why would you?” he challenges.
A question I’ve been avoiding asking myself. I sigh and sit on the couch, patting the cushion next to me. My brother sits and leans his elbows on his knees. No matter how many carbs I stuff him with, his lanky form remains.
“You left that life behind for a reason, V. I’m afraid you’ll be sucked back in.” His concern is palpable.
“Sucked back into running a company for my father only to learn he’s stealing from his trusting staff and clients? Impossible. Our father is on the kitchen counter.”
He twists his lips at my morbid joke. We both look at the urn, standing sentinel next to the coffee pot.
“I didn’t know what to do with him,” he says.
“I don’t either. Throwing him out with next week’s trash seems harsh, but sprinkling him around a park is too good for him.”
“We should bury him next to Mom. Maybe you can look into that on your trip.”
“He’s the reason Mom’s dead, or have you forgotten?”
“I haven’t forgotten,” he snaps.
“I know. I’m sorry.” I put my hand on my forehead and take a deep breath. Tears heat the backs of my eyes, but I don’t want to do this now, so I won’t. “I will if I have time, okay?”
“Thanks.”
“Hey, did you reach Dee?” I elbow him. His shy smile tells me he did.
“She’s back on the wagon. Living with her sister. The irony, right? We’re both living with our sisters. She said she’d like to come visit. Atlanta can be…Atlanta. I thought if she came here I could take her horseback riding.”
“That’s sweet.” I mean it. But… “Is that a good idea since she’s so new in her sobriety?”
“People can disappoint you at any time. New or not.”
Sage wisdom from my brother. You heard it here first.
A knock at the door draws my attention. Nate at my screen door fills me with all sorts of muddy emotions. I’m drawn to him and afraid to be drawn to anyone. I want to run into his arms, but don’t want my brother to know how nuts I am about Nate this soon.
I wave him in.
“Viv. Walt,” he greets. “Nice place you have here.”
“It’s usually cleaner.” I stand and swipe my palms down my skirt, uneasy about him seeing my house. I don’t know why. Nate hasn’t always lived in a decadent house filled with modern furnishings. I’m not ashamed of my place. Then it occurs to me I’m uneasy because he and Walt are in the same room. They’ve each expressed concern about the other. The last thing I need is a Popeye/Bluto-style confrontation.
“Viv and I were talking about burying Dad,” Walt says. “If you find the time during your trip to stop by Fein Village.”
I send a murderous glare to my brother. Nate’s reaction is calmer than mine.
“I’m sure we can fit that in. Do you need to bring him?” Nate nods to the urn on the kitchen counter. Look who’s Mister Observant.
“I wouldn’t want to make the flight weird,” I hedge. I’m not sure I’m ready to travel with my father. Or visit my mother’s final resting spot for the first time in years.
“It’s a private jet. We can fit one more.” Nate lifts my bags. “I can come back in for it, unless…”
“I’ll take him.” I march to the kitchen, steel myself with a deep breath, and lift the urn holding my father’s ashes. Then I’m out the door, embarking on a very different trip than the one I anticipated.
Chapter Eighteen
Vivian
I haven’t been on a private jet in ages,” I tell Nate after takeoff.
“Beats flying commercial.” He’s stunningly suited, a tie at his neck. He looks good. All that roughhewn masculinity settled into a plush chair. He’s waiting on the flight attendant to deliver his whiskey, neat. I ordered a ginger ale. I never was able to drink on a plane without being airsick. Best to avoid vomiting on my suitor’s rented airliner if possible.
“Sorry about that.” I nod at my father’s urn. It’s like carrying a genie in a bottle around but instead of granting wishes he gifts bad memories. Bonus! There are more than three.
“Don’t be. Might help with closure.”
I shake my head. “Closure is selfish. People lost a lot of money because of him. Where is their closure?”
He smiles, which I find mildly perturbing.
“What?”
“It’s interesting how, after years of having plenty of money at your disposal, you believe it’s a finite resource.”
“It is a finite resource.”
“It’s not. There’s more than enough to go around. If I can turn a million into a billion in a relatively short time, you can out-earn your father. Without stealing. You were the source of the income you had, not him. Your talents, your gifts, your sassy mouth.” He tilts his head. “Unless you believe you don’t deserve it. That’s another matter altogether.”
“You don’t talk like a kid from juvie with junkie parents,” I murmur.
A flight attendant steps into the cabin and serves my ginger ale and Nate’s whiskey. After she learns there’s nothing more she can do for us, she disappears behind a door.
“I didn’t mean to mention that so crassly,” I mutter to Nate. “I didn’t think about being overheard.”
He presses an intercom button and the flight attendant appears a few seconds later. “Ms. Vandemark and I will need privacy for the remainder of the flight. No need to check in on us until we land.”
“Of course, Mr. Owen. I’ll grant you plenty of privacy. Ring if you need anything.” She vanishes again, shutting the door behind her.
“Being overheard is no longer an issue.” He unbuckles when the seat belt light goes off and I do the same. Then he swivels his seat to face mine. Holding his whiskey, he says, “I had to come to terms with what I deserved. It took a lot of therapy and business classes and numerous sit-downs with William Owen. He left room for no other option.”
“A good father. The mind boggles.”
“Beneath the privilege is a man who wanted better for his family. He taught me to want better too. Do you, Vivian? Want better?”
“Something wrong with my income bracket, Owen?” I snap.
He raises his eyebrows like he knows he’s being baited. “You know that’s not what I meant. You were once a high-powered executive. Do you miss it?”
“The power or the income?”
His eyes narrow, assessing. “Neither. The fact that you were where you belonged.”
“I failed spectacularly. So, no, not really.”
“Failed? The company you were dedicated to collapsed. I’d hardly call that failing.”
“My failure to notice what was under my nose is my biggest regret,” I admit. “I didn’t change my name and career because I wanted to. I was forced to.” I think of the press shadowing me at the courthouse. The shouted questions. Did you suspect your father was stealing from the company? How could you have missed the signs? Will you live in Chicago after the trial? I clear my throat to keep from curling my shoulders in shame. “I have a lot of critics, Nate.”
“I’ll bet you a thousand dollars you don’t have half as many as you think.”
“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t Googled myself in years.”
“I liked your sass from the moment I met you, but I know what it’s masking.”
I cross my arms, not enjoying this interrogation as much as he is. Still, I’m curi
ous. “And what’s that?”
“Fear,” he answers and dammit, that feels true. I was never fearless, but I used to be brave. Before I knew how bad things could get. “As they say, you can’t bullshit a bullshitter, and I used to be brimming with it.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You still are.” I smile sweetly.
His lips curl into a wicked smile, sending shivers down my arms. “You think I won’t strip you down and take you on that couch, you’re wrong.”
“You have a flight crew,” I remind him as those shivers shift to heat. I’m flushed, tingly. The idea of us having sex on this plane sounds more appealing than I’d like.
“She’s giving us privacy,” he reminds me. “I can do whatever I want to you.”
“You can.” I study my nails and pretend to be bored. “If I allow it.”
He’s poised to spring, his grip firm on his glass. I’m holding him there with my silence. We both know it. The power is mine, but I’m aware he’s the one who gave it to me.
“You have me figured out.” He sips his whiskey and turns his chair to face front again. Pretending boredom like me.
Evidently he has me figured out too. What he said about me being afraid rings loudly in my head. I started therapy but quit. I ran from my hometown to hide out. I’ve been treating my father’s ashes as if they were a canister of flour rather than the remains of a man who was harder to love in life than he is in death.
Being with Nate is giving up my anonymity. Am I okay with that?
“I lack resilience,” I admit, maybe for the first time. “My easy upbringing didn’t teach me fortitude. My mother faded like a flame on a candle that’s out of wick. My brother numbed himself into oblivion. If I were raised the way you were, maybe I’d have come out swinging.”
“Now who’s full of shit?” He arches one eyebrow before turning his seat toward mine again. He sets down his glass. “Your mother and your brother share a sickness. The same sickness that killed my father and is ravaging my mother.”
“Is?” He told me he hadn’t talked to her in three years.
“I checked in on her.” His mouth pulls into a tight line. “She’s living in the same unsafe neighborhood where I was born. It’s not a nice place. If I thought for a moment she’d move into a penthouse, I’d buy her one.”
“She wouldn’t move?”
“Living in a rundown apartment on the wrong side of town is comforting to her. I’ve tried to move her into a new place before. The result was a lot of wasted time and money.” He sighs. “I may have come out of the birth canal swinging but that doesn’t mean the transition was easier, Vivian. I had no idea what was possible before I met Will and Lainey Owen.”
“I did. I’d give it up all over again if it brought me peace.”
“Has it?”
We both know it hasn’t. I press my lips together.
“What happened is in the past. Your father was accused and sentenced for his crimes and died in prison. It’s over for him. It should be for you. If you’re happy, then great. I can’t escape the feeling you want more. That you want to blaze a trail. ” He holds out a hand and I slide mine against his palm. Instantly I am less defensive. “You are a fighter, Vivian. Not like me, and that’s not a bad thing. I took down a wall with a sledgehammer and then had to replace it at my cost. I can be stupid. Reckless.”
“I thought it was sexy,” I disagree. “A buff guy in a fancy suit with a sledgehammer. Drywall dust dotting your hair.”
“Don’t forget I caught you in my arms after that. I saved your life.”
“My life?” I tilt my head in disbelief.
“I at least saved you from a concussion.”
I’ll give him that. I smile.
He strokes my hand with his thumb. “You won’t be happy until you accept that it’s okay to go after your heart’s desires. And you”—he tugs my hand and pulls me onto his lap—“are a woman who gets exactly what she desires the moment she allows herself to desire it.”
Present party included, I think smugly. I wanted him the night at the museum, and here we are.
“Including sex on that couch over there?” I whisper against his lips.
“Or right here on this chair.” He kisses me hard, deep. Not holding back.
I don’t either. It feels good to be brave again.
We had to move to the airplane’s couch after attempting sex on the seat. It might have worked if Nate was shorter. Or if I was a contortionist.
After the flight we made a quick stop at the hotel to change and then we visited the job site. A posh live-work new-build halfway done. The style is more industrial, less homey than Grand Marin, which suits the area. Nate is specific about architecture and aesthetics. He has a gift.
“No wonder you’ve grown your wealth in this sector of Owen Construction,” I tell him after dinner. We ate at a sandwich shop downtown that served an amazing mushroom Reuben. I’m going to have dreams about that sandwich, mark my words.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He hails a cab and gives the driver an address that is not our hotel’s location.
“Where are we going?” I ask as Nate settles in next to me. He smells good, as usual. And in this stinky cab, that’s impressive. He leans his back on the seat and turns his head and smiles. I nearly melt into the overly warm vinyl.
“Pint Haus. It’s…rustic.”
“Rustic.” I make a face. That doesn’t sound good.
“Not the kind of place you’d frequent, but I like it. I want to show it to you.”
When the cab arrives at Pint Haus, I blink. He was right. I’d never step foot five blocks from a place like this. The wall is crumbling, the facade has seen better days—say, the mid ’80s—and the thumping of drums leaking from the inside hints that the band is long-haired and tattooed.
“This is what you wanted to show me?”
Nate grins. “Best dive bar in town. A city kid like me is more comfortable here than in one of Archer’s posh clubs.”
“I like posh clubs.” I push out my bottom lip and he kisses it.
“You can take the girl out of the snooty neighborhood…” he teases before helping me out of the cab.
I bristle at the noise coming from the bar. I feel safe with him, though. He’d never bring me into a situation where I was in danger. And if I was, he’d protect me.
Inside, we smash in with the crowd at the bar. Nate orders two beers.
“No dirty martini?” I call out over the noise.
“You want to be laughed out of this place?” He’s so damn appealing in this environment. When he changed at the hotel, he opted for casual trousers and a button-down. His sleeves are cuffed and rolled. I run my hand along the coarse hair covering one ropey forearm. He’s so masculine. Painfully sexy.
Beer bottles in hand, we press toward to the band. After a song and a half, the lead singer lets us know they’ll be back for a second set after he grabs “tequila and a blow job.”
“Charming,” I tell Nate as the band files off stage. Long hair and ripped jeans and tattoos galore. I’m a psychic. “You don’t have any tattoos.”
“Not a big fan of needles after Dad died with one in his arm.”
I wince. He bends and kisses my cheek, then says into my ear, “You’re cute when you’re worrying about me.”
“I’m not worried about you.”
“Uh-huh.” He checks out the crowd and I do the same. “What do you think?”
There are people of all ages and creeds in here. It’s a dive bar, but one with a hell of a lot of personality. I don’t feel unsafe after all.
“It suits you. I like being in the mix with the commoners.” I sip my beer and smile to let him know I’m being purposely obtuse. “I’ll never fit in here. If half of them had any clue who I was, I’d be dragged out and tossed into the gutter.”
He doesn’t smile. “Let’s test that theory.”
With his free hand, he takes mine and walks me to the first couple we see. They’re
twentysomething, college kids, I’d guess, given their trendy clothes.
“Excuse me,” Nate says to them.
I jerk his arm in protest. What is he doing?
He ignores me. The couple regards us curiously.
“This is my girlfriend, Vivian Steele.”
The guy blinks at me. “Nice to meet you. Rocco. This is my girlfriend, Bev.”
After a pair of awkward handshakes and a “nice to meet you” from all parties, Nate whisks me away.
“What was that about?” I ask him. “And did you call me your girlfriend?” That detail hits me a little late.
“They didn’t hate you.”
“They’re babies. They don’t know who Walter Steele was.”
His mouth tips in consideration. He walks us over to a pair of guys. The same intro follows. “Hi. This is my girlfriend, Vivian Steele. She’s the daughter of Walter Steele, the rich asshole who robbed a lot of innocent people of their life savings.”
“Shit,” one guy says, thick eyebrows rising over the rim of his black glasses. “Seriously?”
I give him a sickly smile. I feel like dying.
“Jamal.” He offers a hand and I stare at it in shock. He wants to shake my hand? He grips my fingers and holds them for a beat. “That sucks, Vivian. Least you know what not to do with your life.”
His friend introduces himself next. Pablo. We part with well wishes.
Not done yet, Nate approaches a pair of forty-something ladies next. They are leaning over the bar, their raucous laughter suggesting the martinis aren’t their first. I shoot daggers at Nate as I nod to the drinks. Guess they do serve martinis.
He ignores my silent complaint and recites his introduction, but this time when he mentions my father he says, “Do you think Vivian can escape Walter Steele’s shadow?”
“Aw, of course, hon.” The blond woman squeezes my arm. “We’re not our parents. You can make better decisions. You already have judging by your boyfriend.” She sizes up Nate a tad lecherously. “A good man is hard to find.”
Once Upon a Billionaire: Blue Collar Billionaires, Book 1 Page 13