The Sinclair Heir

by Scott, Eliot

  The Sinclair Heir

  The Feud Series Book 2

  Text copyright © 2019

  Ginger Scott, Anne Eliot

  Writing as Eliot Scott

  Butterfly Books, LLC

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Eliot Scott

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover image copyright: Regina Wamba

  ISBN: 9781937815196

  Contents

  Part II of The Feud Series

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  8.

  9.

  10.

  11.

  12.

  13.

  14.

  15.

  16.

  17.

  18.

  19.

  20.

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  We dedicate this to the old-school romance readers who miss the days of sneaking Mom’s dog-eared paperbacks and reading them by flashlight.

  Part II of The Feud Series

  Note from the author:

  Before you dive in, we wanted to make sure you knew that this is part 2 in a two-book series. If you have not read The Wallace Girl yet, we strongly urge you to begin there. Things will make a whole lot more sense.

  We hope you enjoy this thrilling conclusion to a story we have enjoyed from every letter and punctuation mark. Happy romance reading!

  1.

  Jojo, Present Day.

  I can tell his lips yearn for mine despite what he’s said.

  He wants to kiss me.

  He will kiss me.

  I will make him.

  I know in my heart that if he could just feel something deeper, the way our kisses always were and I know still are, he’d let go of those final pieces of ice he’s holding up like a shield. I’m almost inside again, we’re almost as we belong. But there is so much to untangle with him, so many terrible lies and threats we must undo. His father’s rules—his way—poisoned him, and that evil runs so deep.

  Alex’s top lip has always had this twitch—a giveaway that says when he’s about to give in to me. It moves now, and I stare and stare, willing him to lean forward. But instead, he pulls away, his body growing tense, like he might bolt. Dejected, I let my hands fall from his face and shift to his side, but that’s when his fingers start to trail down my cheek.

  Patience, Jojo. Be patient.

  I freeze, afraid to push him too far. When my hair catches, he pulls in a sharp breath as he works to smooth it along my shoulder, and I wonder what he’s thinking. So many hours of my youth were spent under the sun and stars with this boy, now a man, soothing my soul and running his fingertips through my hair just like this.

  I glance sideways, peering through my lashes, and see that he’s trying to regain the stoic expression he’s worked so hard to maintain this entire night. I’ve seen him cry now, though, so that hard adult-Alex face of his, it’s forever going to look softer to me now…it just is.

  Loving how his hands feel playing with my hair, I remain still and let my eyes focus off of him and onto his bedroom. I’m searching for him, insights into who he’s grown up to be, but this bedroom seems to be filled with everything that reminds me of me. My heart speeds up at the realization, and I know without asking that Alex—my Alex—made me this place, this room. Maybe it was a way to keep me in his memories, or maybe…just maybe…he hoped I would come back.

  The bedding is white on white. Crisp cotton sheets tuck under a white ultra-thick cover quilted with white thread into small leaf patterns. Everything is overlaid with cable knit, a very expensive feeling cashmere throw that’s now tangled around us both.

  The entire room is a study in modern meets rustic. The bed frame is hand-pounded iron. The fireplace is ultra large and square, edged with a small band of chrome, and you can see through it all the way to what looks like a white marble tub next to a huge window. The floors warm it all up and balance all of the white. I can tell they’re hand scraped. The wood is a gorgeous, wide-plank, reclaimed pine. It’s the finest, I’m sure. I’ve only ever seen floors like this on HGTV. It’s too dark to see outside the windows, which is frustrating because now I’m really curious where I’m at, so I let my gaze travel toward the door, hoping I can catch a glimpse of another room. Sadly, I can only see out into a dark hallway where the pine wood stops. I note the little black knots in the wood that match perfectly with the polished marble floor that picks up where the wood ends in the hallway.

  “This room is beautiful. Did you have a designer help you decorate it?”

  His movement pauses.

  “No. I didn’t.”

  I didn’t think so. The details in here are too intimate, too perfect. This space is plucked right from my soul, the things Alex knows are so very much me.

  I breathe in and let my eyes return to him and search through my vivid memories from another time, looking for ones that will move him, convince him to kiss me. If I can get him to do that, I’ll have him, and I will not let him go again.

  “You remember when you proposed with that wire ring you made out of twisty ties on my parents’ porch swing?”

  I glance up and catch just enough of Alex’s features to see he’s staring at me again.

  He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t move. He feels this.

  He feels this. My Alex.

  “I kept that ring. It’s in my jewelry box…” I hold my stare on his eyes, and he blinks just once.

  “Did anyone ever offer you a real one?” He swallows and tries to mask it, but I see the movement in his throat.

  I shake my head, no.

  “It should have been a real ring.” The tremble in his voice surprises me, the low timber gives me the urge to turn and face him all the way again. But I know that would be a mistake. I think he’s on the edge right now. I also think I just heard his heart finally start beating through his voice.

  “It was real enough for me,” I press on.

  “Like I always say, you deserve more. So much more.”

  I breathe out a laugh, because he’s always said that to me, and because there was no more that Alex could have given. He gave me everything back then, and he’s got no clue as to the more I’ve been raising for years without him.

  The silence settles in again, too quickly. I feel him slipping away, and my mind battles with my heart for the right move to make, the right words to say. That feeling of desperation lingers. It always lingers.

  “Why did you come back?” he asks again. “And don’t answer that it’s because my father died.”

  He settles in closer, his arms tightening on me, and I feel him relax just a little. My spine tingles with the breath on my neck when he speaks.

  My pulse races, and my eyes close as I work to steady myse
lf against the spinning room, him. Everything. I’m overwhelmed suddenly by how far I’ve come. It’s starting to catch up with me, and I’m so tired of doing it alone I decide to tell him some of the truth. I tell him fast before I lose my nerve.

  “It is because your father died. But that’s not my reason. Yes, I knew it would be safe to come for you. But it’s you, Alex. You’re my reason. I mean it. I want you, and I to be together. I want us to have our future. I haven’t been with anyone since I went away. You’re my family, my home, and we’ve wasted so much time. You and I, we have something so very special—”

  I feel the bed shift in an instant and he’s so far across the room I could swear he flew there. “Shit, Jo! That’s not the answer I expected.”

  “What did you think I’d say?” I’m hurt. My body’s covered in goosebumps from the heat he took away from me just now, and from the fear that I almost just told him about Emily. It’s too soon for that. He can barely handle the idea of me still wanting him.

  “Answer me. What did you think I’d say?” I grill him again.

  He starts pacing and his hands rub over his hair, then his face, his elbows going wide. It’s the same pose he always struck when he would become frustrated. I’ve watched him pace like this over his father, over his mother…over Grady. Over me.

  “I thought you’d say you were here to collect your aunt. To settle her into a retirement home, or to move her back home with you. I’m sure she’s informed you how we practically held her hostage.” He’s reaching for reasons. I can hear how flustered he is, and I know he knows exactly why I’m here. He knew I’d come; he had to.

  I nod. “She said a little about that, yes.”

  My aunt was collateral, but she wasn’t as unwilling as the Sinclairs would like to think. As much as they used her to dangle a threat over me, she also spied on them and watched their every move.

  “I want you to say you’re here to sue my family for your lands to be returned to you. Now that my father’s gone, his hold on the local legal officials will fade, and you can challenge all of it—everything was your mother’s, and it should be returned to you. Hell, for that matter, I’ll just give it all back to you.”

  “I don’t want it. Not like that. Not unless it’s both of ours.” I level him with a steady and serious gaze.

  “I just can’t Jojo. I can’t…” His voice is weak. His will is weak. He’s giving in.

  “But you do, and you can. We can. Or you wouldn’t have just held me how you did, looked at me the way you did, or followed me and saved me for the millionth time from Grady. What I said was true—you’re mine. You’re looking at me and your expression tells me you’re exactly where I am in your head, yet you’re still lying. He’s dead now, Alex. We can be together again. You’re free…we’re free.”

  “I’m not who I was. I’m not the guy you think I am.”

  “You are. You’re that and more.” I defy him, because I refuse to let him fall completely into the dark again now that he sees the light—I know he sees it.

  His hands move from his face up into the thick waves of his hair, gripping as his eyes look haunted.

  “I came prepared to fight for this. For you. I won’t give up. I’m not the girl you think I am. I’m so much stronger.” I shake my head and breathe in, forcing myself to forget the pain my body feels. The fuzz of medicine is wearing thin, and the blur of alcohol is faint.

  Alex sighs, his shoulders slump but his frustration with me grows. His moves haven’t changed, and I only need to predict them to break through.

  “I can’t keep you safe. Not now. Not after what just happened.”

  “So don’t. I don’t need to be safe. He’s dead. Dead.” I will have an answer for everything.

  Alex laughs and spins slowly on his heels. When his eyes meet mine again, lightning strikes both of our souls. I feel it in my gut, and I see it shake him. His breath comes out fast, and his face falls to the right, revealing the exhaustion behind his eyes. They’re red from his tears.

  “You still don’t get it, do you?” he says.

  Our gaze locked, I sit up tall in the bed, wavering some as I get to my feet. I’m afraid that if I don’t physically go after him, touch him, get him to touch me back again, that I’ll lose him.

  “Get what, Alex?” I step closer and closer, wincing as my weight challenges my sore and bruised legs.

  His hands bunch at his sides as though he can’t stand watching me wobbling around, as though he’s worried I’m going to stumble and get hurt, but his eyes never leave mine as he says, “You don’t get how much danger you’re in. You don’t get what this is…what you and I are wrapped up in. None of this was ever our choice, but it’s too late, Jojo. We are who we are.”

  “We’re two people who should still be in love. Who deserve to be together. Two people who got the shitty short end of the stick—who got played by our own families, and who went through a really dark time.” I inch closer. “But that time, it’s over. I’m here now. And you’re here. And look at us—we’re being honest…for once in our goddamned lives!”

  Alex hasn’t run away. Not yet. His brow crinkles and his gaze lowers away from my face when I stop only inches away from him. “We’re Wallaces…Sinclairs…oil and water. Enemies. You can’t love me, Jojo. It’s impossible. After what I’ve done, you can’t.”

  “We aren’t enemies, Alex. We never were, and I don’t care what you’ve done.” My hand reaches slowly toward his heart. I press my fingers against him until my palm is flat on his white t-shirt, and my breath hitches with hope when he doesn’t pull away.

  “That ring you gave me had a promise attached to it. The lure you gave me says forever.” I peer up at him, his height always so much more than mine, and my tongue dashes out to lick my bottom lip. “I’m here for that.”

  His eyes are locked on my lips. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, my mouth curving a hint of a smile as I shake my head, adding, “You once swore you loved me more than the sun. I know you still do. And I know it has to mean a lot to you that I never, ever stopped loving you.”

  I place both hands against his chest, and I feel his thundering heart. Alex’s moan rumbles deep and near his heart before it escapes his lips along with my name.

  “Jojo.”

  Alex’s hands wrap around my wrists in an instant as though he means to tear my hands away from his heart, but instead, he just holds them, locking me to him. His eyes grow dark, and I can see the demons battling with the angels behind them.

  “How you kissed me that night. How I kissed you back. Do you remember? Please, Alex. We’re both so tired, and my body hurts as much as yours does. Just kiss me, take me back to your bed, and let’s wash it all away. Please. ”

  2.

  Jojo, Junior Year.

  “I’m sorry, Alex, but Jojo says she doesn’t want to see you today,” my dad says, just like we practiced.

  I hold my breath behind the door, trying not to make a sound and give it away. My dad is somehow not breaking character either.

  I lean over more to peer through the crack between the hinges, but all I can see is Alex’s back. His hands are pushed deep in the back pockets of his jeans, and his plaid shirt is tucked in, just like it was at school.

  I was supposed to get a ride home with Alex today, but when I got to the parking lot, Grady had caught up with me. He put his heavy arm around me and asked if it was over.

  I didn’t understand until he positioned me to take in the view of Alex carrying Molly Foster—head cheerleader Molly Foster, who is also one of the girls who tore up my dress sophomore year at the homecoming dance! She was his arms while he ran around his Mustang, and she was giggling and begging him to put her down.

  Alex is playful with other girls sometimes. And other girls flirt with him a lot. Normally, it doesn’t bother me because he always stops at a line, dropping everything and devoting his full attention to me the moment he sees me. Today, though…something was different.

  I watched
for a while, in the shadows, while Grady stood next to me. For once, Grady didn’t seem awful, he only seemed sympathetic. He genuinely felt bad that I was watching Alex be so happy with this other girl. I got this thought in my head—what would happen if Alex didn’t know I was watching?

  I waited for several minutes more, and while nothing irreversible happened, the flirting did cross a line that I thought it never would.

  I watched Alex set leggy, curvy Molly with her perfectly huge boobs and ultra-straight golden hair down on the hood of his car. Then he stood between her open knees while her skirt slid up just enough that I’m sure every guy nearby popped an erection. I felt my eyes begin to sting, as well as my heart. And when Molly reached forward and looped her fingers in the top of Alex’s jeans, tugging him close, I gasped.

  I guess I made a noise just loud enough to give away my position, because Alex’s head turned in a jolt.

  Our eyes met.

  Grady grinned, then he shoved his meaty arm around my shoulder and whispered how sorry he was again. He said Alex was a dick, and that he’d kick his brother’s ass for me.

  I didn’t want that, really, but for a flash of a moment I almost said yes.

  It sucked. I ran home so fast that I didn’t have time to cry, and somehow I skipped right over being hurt to being pissed off.

  I knew Alex would come, so I talked my dad into tricking him, faking that it was some joke, only what my dad doesn’t know is it’s not really a trick—I honestly don’t want to see Alex right now.