by R. R. Banks
I stared at the lawyer angrily.
"You made such a big deal out of coming all the way out here just so that you can tell us that you're going to come back and read the rest of the well?" I asked.
"Well, yes," the lawyer said. "I thought that it would be in the best interests of everyone involved if I made an appointment now so that the proper plans could be made to ensure that the reading is carried out as was specified by your father."
It was instantly clear that he was trying to dance around saying he wanted to make sure that we weren't drunk or having a little party of our own with whatever country club bunnies we brought home.
"We've been waiting five years to hear why our father decided he needed to be so damn mysterious. I assure you we will be ready when you come."
Mr. Dandridge gave a sharp nod and snapped his briefcase closed. He grabbed it by the handle and yanked it off the desk as if putting an exclamation on the end of the meeting.
"Then I will see the four of you gentlemen on Wednesday morning."
He walked out of the study without another word and the four of us sat silently for a few long seconds. Now that we had confirmation that we would be hearing the rest of the will, it seemed that there was new tension around us. Soon we would either learn when we would get the rest of our inheritance, or what we had done to lose it.
Aiden
I should have stayed in bed. I should have just fucking stayed in bed.
I was angry when the lawyer left and didn't feel like being in the room with my brothers anymore. I got up and walked out of the room, heading back to my wing of the house where I could be alone until I went into the office. I could take the day off and stay at the house if I felt like it. It's not like anybody would say anything to me about it. Except maybe Talon. He wasn't a stranger to taking the forceful father role with me in the years since our father died. I was just a teenager then, and I felt like I knew him in a different way than the other three. Though we were close together in age, those few years sometimes weighed heavily. It was that distance between us that made the experience of Dad dying different for me than it was for them.
The first three sons born to my mother and father were born extremely close together. Only a year parted Talon and Jackson, and there were just ten months between Jackson and Lucas. They had then waited five more years before having me. I had no memories of my mother, though I often looked at the pictures of her holding me and tried to remember anything that I could. Sometimes I would smell a certain perfume or hear a certain lullaby and I got a feeling like I had experienced it before and would wonder if that was an impression of my mother deep within me, somewhere where I couldn't quite touch. It was comforting to think that it was, that even if I couldn't really remember looking into her face or hearing her say my name, she was still with me and I had been affected by her.
Her death so early in my life meant more than just that I didn't have the opportunity to grow up with her the way that my brothers did. It also meant that the relationship that I formed with our father and the memories that I had of him were different. My brothers, especially Talon, remembered my father when he was much younger. He remembered what he was like when he was with my mother and was really happy. It wasn't that I never knew my father to be happy. People loved being around him because he was social and funny, but there were many times when he was smiling but the expression didn't reach his eyes. It was like the happiness was only one layer of him, and deeper down there was still an emptiness and a sadness that had existed there since the day that he lost my mother.
I had looked at pictures and home videos of my parents from before I was born and I could see that he was different. Talon had mentioned a few times that the older he got, the more frequently and more easily he got angry, and the longer he would hold on to that anger. He was never cruel or abusive to us, but I did remember the anger. I remembered being young and hearing the way that he would yell at my older brothers, infuriated at them for one thing or another. Most of the time I didn't really understand what he was so angry about, but as I got older I knew that he hated the way my brothers behaved. He wanted them to be more responsible, to stop burning their way through the girls in our social circle, to straighten up and start living up to their name.
But it was his illness that hit me the hardest. All of my brothers coped with their reaction to finding out that our father was terminally ill, but during that difficult time, I often felt like I was separated from them. It wasn't just the fewer years that bonded them closer together while we watched him get sicker and fade away. They had so many more memories of him. Before our mother died, our father was much more invested in his sons, but her loss seemed to make it harder for him to even look at us. The older I got, the more time that he was spending in the office or at the Club, and the more the staff was taking care of me. I had good memories of my father and the times that we spent together, but they were fewer and farther apart than the ones that Talon, Jackson, and Lucas had. Those memories made it somehow easier for them as he got sicker and then after he died. They could find solace in them and would often reminisce about those times together like the more they talked about him and laughed, the less room that they had inside of them to feel the pain of him being gone. While they were doing that, though, I was just reminded of all that had been taken from me. His sickness became the most looming memory and I felt like I had so little to soften it.
Even after five years, our father's death felt raw and unresolved to me. The other three brothers had been aggravated by the will, but I felt like it was an insult. He had left me behind when I was still so young, when I needed my father the most. I somehow felt like him holding back some of the inheritance was just another way that he was letting me down. He knew that he was dying. The doctors had never tried to sugarcoat that or pretend like there was any other option. By the time that he was diagnosed, he was already on a downward slide and they knew that there was nothing that they could do to bring him back. It was just a matter of time before the illness claimed the entirety of his mind and his body. Rather than taking those last months and weeks to make sure that we made as many memories as we could and that his sons were prepared to move forward in life without him, he used them to ensure his will kept us controlled and under his thumb even from beyond the grave.
I took a shower and got dressed, resolving to go to the office and distract myself with my work. There were only a few hours left in the workday, anyway. The office ran itself well in our absence and those who were there everyday knew that they could easily reach any of us if something serious happened. Being there when there wasn't a major meeting or project was primarily a formality, and one that I didn't frequently fulfill. My brothers were much more committed to the work and it was more unusual to have them still at home this late in the day, but I assumed Talon wanted the lawyer to come over as soon as he was able and had ensured that all of us would be home at that specific time to make sure if something had changed, we would all know together.
My brothers were in various states of getting ready to go to the office when I walked through the house and headed toward my car.
"I'm driving myself into the office today," I called to them.
"Are you alright?" Jackson asked.
He knew that I usually had the driver bring me to work and to virtually anywhere else that I wanted to go. I only ever drove myself when I really wanted some time to think.
"I'm fine," I called back. "I just haven't driven in a while."
"Don't forget that we have to go to the Club tonight," Lucas said. "We have to start making plans for the gala."
I groaned as I walked outside.
Fantastic.
Chapter Three
Gabrielle
"For the love of all that is holy Gabrielle, go out there."
I hissed and waved my hand at Skylar, trying to quiet her. Pressing on the door to the kitchen just enough that it opened a few inches, I leaned forward and looked out into the lobby. He was st
ill there. Staring at my truffles. The man was so indescribably gorgeous I had immediately lost my mind when he walked into the shop and disappeared into the kitchen. I'd been standing back here for several minutes now, occasionally peeking out to see if he was still there, and didn't really know what to do from here. If I walked out there now, I would not only have to try to talk to him, but I would also have to come up with some reason why I had gone into the kitchen and just didn't come back. If I stayed here and continued to engage in my mild voyeurism, oh, he might leave and take his sexy body and money right along with him. I knew that for the future of my business I should be more concerned about the money, but right then it was the body I was more reluctant to lose.
"Can I get some assistance, please?" he called.
Oh, damn.
"He's asking for assistance," my sister said. "Go out there and assist him."
"I can't," I said.
"Why?" she asked.
"I'm too busy," I said.
I looked around and then stepped up to the counter where I had been making tiny pink sugar paste roses to go on top of buttercream-filled domes. Though I already had three trays full and set aside drying, I made a big show of starting more. Skylar gave a dramatic shove and pushed through the door into the lobby. I immediately put down the sugar paste and went back to my spot beside the door. I caught the door as it swung toward me and held it just a few inches open so I could watch Skylar with the gorgeous man. He stepped up to the display case and pointed in at one of the trays.
"What's in that one?" he asked.
"Ummmm…" Skylar said.
"Coffee," I muttered under my breath, hoping that some sort of psychic sister link would make her hear me. "Coffee."
"That's….ummmm…."
She seriously needed to get better at her job.
"Coffee," I hissed a little louder.
Skylar stood on her toes and looked down through the glass top of the case as if somehow looking at the chocolates from a different angle would miraculously tell her the filling.
"It looks like...well, there's a little light brown swirl on top."
I no longer believe tiny paper signs clutter a display case. I no longer believe tiny paper signs clutter a display case. I no longer believe tiny paper signs clutter a display case.
"It's coffee," I whispered again.
Apparently being a few years apart in age kind of takes away that whole twinning thing you hear about.
Skylar let out a sigh.
"I'll be right back."
She turned toward the kitchen and I scurried back to the counter. I picked up the sugar paste again, hoping that she didn't notice that there wasn't a single new rose made. She pushed through the door and grabbed me by my elbow.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
She started pulling me toward the door and I tossed the sugar paste back onto the counter just before stumbling out of the kitchen and into the lobby. Skylar managed to remain in the kitchen even after tossing me out so I stood there alone, feeling framed by the black-and-white checkerboard of the floor tiles. The gorgeous man looked at me over the top of the display case, his piercing blue eyes seeming to hold me in place for a few seconds. Finally, I managed to take a step toward the case and give what I hoped was a smile that was friendly and welcoming, and not bordering on maniacal as I felt it might be.
"Hi," I said.
"Hi," he said.
His voice was silky enough for me to gather up with a spoon and pour into a dark chocolate shell and I felt my mouth watering just listening to him.
"Is there something I can get for you?"
He looked up at me and I saw his eyes trace my face and then make their way down my body, taking in the curves I had tucked in my pink and white uniform. In that moment I became intensely aware of the uniform and how I looked in it. I was very aware that as the owner of the shop and exclusive full-time employee, I had total control over what I wore. I could have gone for black slacks, and black shirt, and an apron for a sleek look befitting the gourmet concept, or a pair of jeans and a t-shirt for something more casual and approachable. And yet I had gone for a pink and white striped dress that looked very similar to something a young woman would wear when tending to a surprisingly healthy-looking patient in a 1940s hospital-themed porn.
I should have gone for about three inches more fabric.
His tongue briefly touched his bottom lip as he pointed to the chocolate that he had been asking Skylar about.
"I just wanted to know what's inside that one," he said.
"Coffee cream," I said. "The swirl on top is hazelnut."
He nodded.
"That sounds delicious," he said.
"Would you like to sample one?" I asked.
"Sure," he said.
I reached into the case and used the pair of delicate metal tongs to lift one of the chocolates off the tray and place it on a square of waxed paper on my palm. I held it out to him and he took it, our hands briefly brushing against one another. The touch of his skin sent a slight shiver through me and I felt color splash onto my cheeks and heat creep up the back of my neck. I chastised myself for my reaction. The man had just taken a piece of chocolate out of my hand. He hadn't popped me into his mouth. I watched as he bit through the chocolate in a way that said more about his class and upbringing than his exquisite suite and polished appearance.
As soon as the flavor touched his tongue, his eyes fluttered closed and he made an appreciative sound.
"That's amazing," he said.
"Thank you. It's my own recipe."
"I'll take a box of them, please."
I smiled and took out one of the small cardboard window boxes I had thought were wonderful and promptly over-purchased.
"Is that your biggest box?" he asked.
I looked up at him, somewhat confused.
"It's my only sized box," I admitted.
People generally bought either one or two individual truffles or a box of six. I hadn't gotten around to getting a box that would accommodate more.
Which, upon retrospection, might not have boded well for my self-confidence regarding my business.
"Then I'll take four," he said. "Do you have anything else that you came up with?"
I looked at the display case.
"All of it," I said. "They're all recipes I came up with. Except for the solid chocolate. That's just… chocolate."
Lovely. Very smooth.
"Then I'll trust you to pick the flavors for me. Three more, please. Four boxes of each."
I looked at him incredulously for a few moments. This man looked like nothing calorically-endowed had ever passed his lips and that he spent his life chiseling his body. What in the living hell was he going to do with nearly a hundred truffles?
"Are you sure?" I asked.
I realized that I was doing spectacularly well in trying to talk myself out of the largest single sale that I had seen in my business so far, but I was too stunned to stop myself.
"Yes," he said. "If that's alright, of course."
I nodded and started filling boxes.
"It's alright," I reassured him, trying not to sound as desperately grateful as I felt.
I filled the boxes and stacked them on the counter. I kept expecting Skylar to come out of the kitchen to help me, but I was on my own right up to the last box. When I finished, I added it to the stacks that I had organized by flavor, adding salted caramel, mint, and dark chocolate ganache to the coffee. He eyed the boxes and I realized that it was going to be difficult for him to carry.
"One second," I said. "I'll get something for you to put them in."
I shot through the kitchen door and into the stock room where I hoped that I would be able to find something that could hold all of the smaller boxes among my ingredients. Finally settling on the cardboard tray that once held cans of sweetened condensed milk, I rushed back out to the lobby.
Only to find it empty.
<
br /> The gorgeous man was gone. So were all of the boxes of chocolates. I let out a defeated sigh before I noticed that he had left something on the counter. I walked up to it and found a note written on the back of one of the takeaway menus I kept stacked next to the register.
I'll be back. Come up with something else amazing.
I felt my heart jump a little in my chest. It started pounding, however, when I noticed the stack of bills that had been under the note. I picked them up and counted them. My hands were shaking slightly and I was still staring at them when Skylar finally came out of the kitchen.
"What?" she asked.
"He overpaid me."
"By how much?"
"Three times the cost of the chocolates."
Skylar gasped and I looked at her, shaking my head.
"It must be a mistake. He did it by accident."
"No," she said. "The prices are right there," she pointed to the price list on the wall. "That man did not look like someone who struggles to do math."
"Then why did he do it?"
"Because he liked your chocolates," she said.
I glared at her.
"Why didn't you come out here and help me?" I asked. "It took me forever to fill those boxes, and he was standing there staring at me the whole time."
"Exactly."
"What?"
"He looked like he was hungrier for you than he was for the chocolate. I didn't want to disturb that."
I felt myself blush and looked away, busying myself with rearranging trays of chocolates that didn't need to be rearranged.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
But I felt her words burrowing into me. I thought that I had seen something in his eyes when he looked at me, but I tried to ignore it, to tell myself that I wasn't seeing what I thought I was. I couldn't be. Someone that sexy and put together couldn't want anything to do with a sheltered virgin who was barely scraping by. He just really enjoyed the coffee cream.