My
American
Angel
By:
Brooke St. James
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.
Copyright © 2017
Brooke St. James
All rights reserved.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Other titles available from Brooke St. James:
Another Shot:
A Modern-Day Ruth and Boaz Story
When Lightning Strikes
Something of a Storm (All in Good Time #1)
Someone Someday (All in Good Time #2)
Finally My Forever (Meant for Me #1)
Finally My Heart's Desire (Meant for Me #2)
Finally My Happy Ending (Meant for Me #3)
Shot by Cupid's Arrow
Dreams of Us
Meet Me in Myrtle Beach (Hunt Family #1)
Kiss Me in Carolina (Hunt Family #2)
California's Calling (Hunt Family #3)
Back to the Beach (Hunt Family #4)
It's About Time (Hunt Family #5)
Loved Bayou (Martin Family #1)
Dear California (Martin Family #2)
My One Regret (Martin Family #3)
Broken and Beautiful (Martin Family #4)
Back to the Bayou (Martin Family #5)
Almost Christmas
JFK to Dublin (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective #1)
Not Your Average Joe (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective #2)
So Much for Boundaries (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective #3)
Suddenly Starstruck (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective #4)
Love Stung (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective #5)
Chapter 1
Theo Duval
New York, New York
Early spring
Theo Duval was a man who didn’t have many regrets in life. He was a real go-getter—the guy who would set a goal, make a plan, and execute it. Then, without really even stopping to enjoy the fruits of his labor, he would move on to the next thing. He didn't always have this kind of focus, though. There was a specific incident at the age of sixteen that forced him to make some serious changes, and he'd been going full steam ahead ever since.
In hindsight, Theo better understood what happened to him all those years ago. He was almost certain he'd been duped out of his parents' assets. He'd been tricked—lied to, swindled.
But he was sixteen years old at the time. That was nearly half his life ago and a major turning point for Theo.
He remembered the conversation clearly.
His parents had just died in a tragic accident, and their lawyer, a man named William Arnett, came to Theo in secret, showing him a piece of paper with their debt to asset ratio and telling him that his mom and dad had basically nothing after the assets were liquidated. He used a bunch of jargon Theo did not understand, and showed him a series of papers that confirmed his story. The papers made it clear that Theo would be left with next to nothing after their estate was settled.
It had happened fourteen years ago, but Theo remembered the scene like it was yesterday. Mr. Arnett met with him in a restaurant instead of his office. He sat across the table from Theo, and told him point blank that if he stayed in Montréal, he would be forced into foster care and that his foster parents would find a way to cheat him out of his meager inheritance, leaving him with absolutely nothing when he turned eighteen.
So, it was at a restaurant that William Arnett gave Theo four-thousand-dollars in cash and told him he should start finding his own way sooner than later. He made a whole speech about mental toughness, and told Theo he was a strong boy who would be better off on his own than in some unpredictable foster situation.
Theo had been born and raised in Montréal, and he spoke more fluent French than he did English, but he always had an affinity for America, and for New York City specifically. It was for this reason that he chose New York as his place of refuge when he ran away from Canada at the age of sixteen.
Theo believed everything Mr. Arnett said to be true at the time. He thought the man had done him a great service. It wasn't until Theo was about twenty that it dawned on him that the lawyer had (in all likelihood) lied. Of course, he wasn't a hundred percent sure, and he didn't have any proof of it, but it made sense to Theo that he'd been conned. By the time he came to this realization, he was already focused on making a fortune of his own. He was too busy with his own endeavors to slow down and investigate his theory.
Theo was now a fully-grown man who was perfectly capable of avenging himself, but he still hadn't followed up with Mr. Arnett. He had been curious enough over the years to look him up, though. He had driven by the law office, and even considered going in to confront the man and seek answers, but ultimately, he decided against it. Theo had never even told another soul about his suspicions regarding the lawyer. He had always kept that piece of information to himself.
A lot had changed since then.
Theo had now made a huge success of his life. When he wasn't traveling, he split his time between New York and Montréal and had beautiful apartments in both cities. There were things he loved about both places, and he felt blessed and honored that he now made enough money to make a real impact in each of them.
Theo had recently built a brand new library and revamped a city park in Montréal. Between the two projects, it was a multi-million dollar endeavor, and Theo wrote the checks without thinking twice.
New York reaped the benefits of his generosity in a different way. In it's short lifespan, the Shower & Shelter Artist Collective had become a New York City institution. It was the brainchild of and fully funded by Theo Duval. The collective had two parts—artist housing, and the artist gallery. Theo bought a sixteen-story building in the Upper East Side and had the first two floors gutted and remodeled for the purposes of the collective. He had the penthouse level redone as well, but that was for his own apartment and the one for his gallery manager.
The first floor was the gallery and offices, and on the second floor, there was housing for up to thirty artists at a time. Each of the artists was on a two-year housing term. They were given a no-frills, one-room apartment with a window, a single bed, and a mini-fridge. They could decorate it however they preferred. The second floor also had immaculately maintained communal kitchens, bathrooms, and showers. And the best and most unbelievable part was that it was completely free for the tenants. The thirty artists who were fortunate enough to have a spot at any given time had to pay for nothing but their own food and art supplies. Theo provided a safe, structured place for them to live rent-free so they could concentrate on creating art.
Theo had an eye for good art, so he always chose talented individuals for the spots at S&S. In the years since it's opening, S&S had become famous for fostering the careers of New York's finest up-and-coming artists. Theo was an artist as well, though he would describe himself as an art-lover slash artist, and not the other way around.
The first floor galler
y was a bit of an afterthought to the artist housing, but it was a natural addition to the project given the fact that the art being produced would be best displayed in a storefront. The artists were productive, the gallery was hugely popular, and something that Theo had fully meant for goodwill and charity was now entirely funding itself. It was such a success that Theo was considering opening locations in other cities.
He was in his apartment thinking about the possibilities when there came a knock on his door. Theo knew it was Lane and Zoe. They lived in the only other apartment on the penthouse level, and he was dog-sitting their bulldog, so he was expecting their arrival.
Lane was Theo's best friend and the manager of S&S. He had fallen in love with one of the artists who came through the collective, and she moved into the apartment with him when they got married. Darlene was their bulldog who had come along just after they tied the knot. She was a big, fat, pile of beautiful, chunky grey wrinkles and was just about the prettiest thing you ever did see. She snorted and honked when she walked, and it was almost impossible not to smile when you looked at her. Theo had babysat Darlene a few other times, and he never dreaded it. In fact, most of the time he tried to talk Lane and Zoe into letting him take over ownership of her. Darlene hopped to her feet and began barking as soon as she heard the knock on the door.
"Come in!" Theo called from the place near the window where he was standing.
Zoe came in, wearing a huge grin at the sight of Darlene's chubby body bounding across the living room. She closed the door behind her as she knelt to pet her dog.
"How was your weekend?" Theo asked. Any traces of his French accent were barely noticeable. He had totally immersed himself in American culture at the age of sixteen, and now he could speak English with virtually no French accent and French with virtually no American accent.
"We had fun," Zoe said, still leaning to pet Darlene as she crossed the living room. "Thanks for babysitting. I'm glad we didn't take this little booger. Lane's little niece is just learning to walk, and she didn't need this wrecking ball running around."
Zoe and Theo converged in the living room, and she gave him a sideways hug before sitting on the edge of his couch to stare down at her oversized bulldog.
"You should just go ahead and give her to me since you'll have one learning to walk soon, too."
Zoe put a hand on her stomach—on the baby that (for five months) had been forming inside of her. It still seemed like forever before she gave birth and the baby got old enough to toddle around like little Bethany had done that weekend.
"You don't want a dog," Zoe said with a teasing grin aimed at Theo. "You don't want anything that takes that kind of commitment."
"What do you mean by that?" Theo asked. He gestured around himself at the fact that he owned the building. "I happen to know a thing or two about commitment."
"That's a business commitment," Zoe said. "And you know a lot about that. I'm talking about the emotional kind." She smiled. "Don't take offense, though. I don't mean to offend you. I thought you knew that about yourself."
"Knew what about myself?"
"I thought you knew you don't commit to any kind of relationships," Zoe said.
"Are you referring to relationships with women?" Theo asked.
He sat on the arm of the couch, and glanced at Zoe with a curious and jovial smile.
"I guess," she said. "Or even a dog, or anything that would depend on you being in one place for more than two days at a time. You know how you are."
"Why can't a dog just come with me when I go somewhere? Or a woman for that matter?"
Zoe shrugged and smiled innocently in that charming way she had perfected growing up in Texas. "Maybe they can," she said. "Maybe they should."
"I know we're messing around, but you're probably right," he said. "I'm not sure I really have the desire to commit to that kind of thing."
"You mean marriage and kids?" Zoe asked. "Don't you think you'll settle down one day?"
Theo shook his head. "I can see myself as an old man being surrounded by a big family, but I don't want to do all the stuff it takes to get there. It's too much trouble. I like my life the way it is. I could see sitting back on a porch somewhere, watching the grandkids play in the yard, but I don't really feel like going through all the dating and marriage and kids and everything it takes to get to that point."
"You date," she said.
"Yes, but I date casually. I'll take a woman to dinner or to a party, and we'll have a nice evening, but that's where it ends. The other type of dating requires much more of my time. Too much. I just can't do that."
"Can't or don't want to?" she asked.
"Either. Both."
She shrugged. "I think you've just never found the right girl."
"That's what everyone says. I'm not sure there's hope for a right girl anymore. I think I'm past that point."
She squinted at him. "Why do you say that? Do you think you're some kind of lost cause or something?"
He let out a humorless laugh. "I wasn't talking about that, although maybe I am a lost cause. I was talking about the fact that once a woman knows how much money I have, I can no longer really trust that she loves me for who I am. I know I could go out and get a gorgeous woman to marry me, but I really don't know that I could get that same gorgeous woman if I wasn't who I am."
"There's no way to know that for sure," she said.
"I know, there's not. I just think it would always be in the back of my mind."
"So, that's what's stopping you from having a relationship? Do you think no one will love you for who you are just because you have money?"
"I don't necessarily want a relationship, anyway, but I guess that's a factor, yes."
"You should just not tell a girl who you are," Zoe said. "Go ask someone out on a date and don't tell her you have money."
She stated her plan with such casual confidence that Theo let out an uncontrollable laugh. Zoe looked at him like she didn't see what was so funny.
"What you're saying is that I should try to find a woman, date her, and marry her all while leading her to believe I'm poor?"
"I didn't say marry her. I said you could ask someone out on a date and not tell her you're rich. You don't have to tell her you're poor, just don't tell her you're rich."
"It doesn't work like that. Women have a way of learning something like that in the first three questions. It's like I meet a girl, and the next thing you know I'm at a job interview. I'd have to look at her face and tell her a lie within the first ten minutes if I planned on not cluing her in about my money. I find it's best if I'm upfront and honest about everything. I make it clear that there are no strings attached. I don't want a relationship, and especially not one I obtain under false pretenses."
"So, you can't start a relationship where you tell the girl a lie, and you also can't start one where you tell her the truth," Zoe said as if she was giving a diagnosis. "You basically can't start a relationship at all."
"That's exactly what I've been trying to say."
Chapter 2
Caroline Harrison
Jensen Beach, Florida
That same early spring
It was 2 o'clock on a Saturday, and I was sitting behind the register in my family's seaside fish market and deli. It was a local favorite called Joey's Smokehouse (after my dad), but in my family we affectionately referred to it as "the store". I had two older brothers, and all three of us had grown up working at our parents' store. My oldest brother, Will, still worked there with me, but my middle brother had gone to Georgia for college and had never come home.
Joey's was a simple, casual operation that sold the freshest fish (both smoked and fresh). My dad was famous for making smoked fish dip, which we sold by the truckloads in little pint-sized containers. We had a couple of menu items such as sandwiches and salads, but it was more about the fish and the dip.
My parents opened Joey's when I was eleven, and I was now thirty, so I had been working there for over half o
f my life. The store was like a second home to me. We had regulars—fishermen and locals who had become like family over the years. In fact, I loved it so much, that I was currently at the store when I didn't even have to be. I had all my work done an hour before, but I just didn't feel like going home. Not tonight.
"I'm going out later," I said to Angela, the girl who was working behind the counter.
"You don't go out," Angela said, looking at me like I was crazy.
"Yeah, but I'm not feeling like going home tonight."
Her face was a mask of confusion. I was famous for loving my house. My parents owned some beautiful land on Hutchinson Island, and my brother and I were both able to build houses on their property. It was extremely picturesque since we had views of both the ocean and the river. I had a dog, and I loved working in my garden, so Angela was correct in being confused by my unwillingness to go home.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked.
"I'm not gonna say," I said with wide eyes. "Because if I say the words out loud, I might cry."
"I thought it looked like you've been crying," she said. She pulled back and inspected my cheeks from my eyes, down to my jawline as if looking for any mascara that had ventured astray.
I wiped my cheeks. I hadn't cried much, but I had shed a few tears that day. I was surprised she could tell.
"What happened?" she asked. "Nobody's hurt or anything, huh?"
"No," I said. "I'm just. It's just that. It was, I was, Justin and I were… I'm not going to say it right now because I, I'll probably… I'm gonna be quiet for a minute, hang on."
"What is it, Caroline? Was it? Were y'all supposed to… was today the day you were supposed to…"
I knew Angela was thinking of the right question, and I nodded.
"You and Justin?" she clarified. "Were you supposed to get married toda—"
My American Angel (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective Book 6) Page 1