Secrets & Chance (The Sterlings Book 1)

by Lynn Hastings

  Baylor dropped his head and muttered, “That means shit coming from you.”

  Chance snorted and cocked his head to the side. He wanted to unleash an arsenal of profanities on Baylor. Pita had been good for a lot of things, and one of those was helping him realize that blowing up when he got mad had to do with some unresolved issues from his childhood. Baylor was one big, unresolved issue in the flesh.

  “Where’s my ex-wife?” Peter blurted. “I heard she was here.”

  Rosalie entered right on cue. Chance couldn’t take his eyes off her as she walked over to kiss his grandmother and greet Ruby and Baylor before sitting. Her acknowledging them spoke to the fact that she knew the hierarchy of things. Baylor was a son of Edna Jane Sterling, one of four direct heirs. Penelope, his grandmother’s only daughter, had legally given up her claim to the family fortune. Chance had been the general counsel tasked with the job of cutting Penelope off.

  “But why, Pen? I don’t get it,” he had said back then.

  “I’ll make my own, not my mother’s or father’s,” she replied with spite.

  His grandmother had never shown it, but Chance could tell by her lack of emotion that Penelope’s decision broke her heart.

  Chance pulled at the collar of his sweater in order to let some air through. He was getting hot and sweaty, watching Rosalie under the warm lights that illuminated the table. The fact that he had such responses to her baffled him. It had all begun at the gas station. Maybe all he needed to do was get a grip on reality. She was attractive, no, sexy. She was extremely sexy. He was a man.

  Suddenly, all eyes were on him. He figured they were waiting for him to respond to something. Rosalie’s deep, dark, delicious eyes watched him too.

  Tony and Rod entered the dining room again to collect the plates.

  “So, Edna, are you excited about your party on Saturday?” Rosalie asked.

  “I can’t say that I am,” Grandmother replied.

  “Oh, come on, Grandmother, it’s going to be a blast,” Susan said. “We have a lot of surprises in store for you. Lots of them.”

  Grandmother’s answer wasn’t surprising. The parties weren’t for her; they were for her sons. Each year, they could honor her and pretend as if she wasn’t more valuable to them dead than alive. In one of Chance’s recurring fantasies, he found a way to make sure they never inherited a penny of the family fortune because his grandmother gave it all away to charity, or even better, to Romero, Garcia, Teresa, Mirabelle, and the rest of her employees. He could make it happen. But he would never get his grandmother to agree to it. She believed in duty before worthiness.

  “So, Chance, how’s Lord and Lord working for you?” Baylor asked.

  Chance wondered what Baylor was trying to uncover by starting this line of questioning, especially since it smelled a lot like small talk, and Baylor never engaged in polite conversation unless he had something to gain from it.

  “Fine,” he said.

  “I thought you would’ve come running back to the trust by now. Unless that’s why you’re here. Couldn’t cut it for Jack Lord?”

  “Why are you concerned that I’m here, Baylor?”

  “I wouldn’t call it concern.”

  Holy shit, he hated his uncle. If it hadn’t been for Grandmother watching what was going on between them, he would have given Baylor a piece of his mind. Baylor liked to sit imperiously as if he were someone whose faults hadn’t made the family fortune volatile. Chance wanted to list them all, starting with the fact that the man replaced his wife every five to ten years. There were also the many prostitutes and more than the occasional high-stakes gambling habit. Not to mention the fact that he was apt to making high-risk and bad business decisions, which he had done many times in the past, putting the company in financial jeopardy. Essentially, Baylor was the very definition of putting lipstick on a pig.

  “Well, this is not how I want to begin the celebration of my eighty-second year of being alive,” Edna said.

  Feeling remorseful for allowing Baylor to drag him into unsavory dinner table behavior, Chance set his repentant eyes on his grandmother. “I apologize, Grandmother.”

  “Regardless, the company’s doing fine without you,” Baylor said.

  Chance shook his head. The fact that Baylor couldn’t kill the discussion by looking at his mother and apologizing for starting shit at the dinner table made Chance dislike him even more.

  Susan asked him a question, and the Claire woman mentioned something about Russian Hill. His preoccupied mind couldn’t keep his thoughts in order. Perhaps it was because he wanted to poke Baylor some more and see what came out. Whatever reason had made Baylor leave the comfort of his home, where he was king of the castle, to sit miserably at dinner with him had to be a profound one.

  “Grandmother, I went for a run today and saw the construction on the south grounds. That’s at least an acre of vineyard land gone.”

  “It’s the board’s project,” Grandmother said.

  “And none of your concern,” Baylor said.

  Grandmother raised her glass of wine to her lips. “They’ve decided to build a second winery and warehouse. It’s more than an acre. It’s one and a half to start.” Very composed, she took a drink.

  “We’re expanding the business, Mother, not hurting it. I wish you could see that way.” Baylor wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Unfortunately, I won’t be able to stay longer.” He shot to his feet.

  “Mission complete,” Chance muttered.

  “Let’s go,” Baylor said coldly to Ruby.

  Chance worked on cooling his anger as Baylor and his wife sauntered out. He barely paid attention to Susan laying into Rosalie. Of course she would. Susan was a jealous woman, and Pete’s first wife was hotter and smarter than she was.

  Susan indirectly accused Rosalie of lying about receiving alimony.

  “I really don’t care what you believe,” Rosalie said with great composure before going back to spooning soup into her mouth.

  Chance liked a woman who didn’t feel as though she had to explain herself to the likes of Susan. Rosalie became more intriguing to him, and he had to know more about her.

  “So, Rosalie, where do you work?” he asked.

  Suddenly, her beautiful eyes were on him, and for a second, he forgot to breathe.

  “Oh, I’m—” she began to say.

  “She’s a lawyer, like you,” Pete said.

  Despite Pete’s sarcastic tone, Chance was intrigued. “Is that so? Where do you practice?”

  “Claire is an interior designer in New York,” Susan said.

  “But I’m moving to San Francisco soon,” Claire said.

  Chance frowned as he focused more on Rosalie. “I’m sorry, where do you practice again?” His tone made it clear that only Rosalie should speak.

  “I’m a public defender for LA County,” she said.

  Chance was taken aback by her answer. “Oh, wow.” He’d expected her to name an upscale law firm in San Francisco. “You live in LA?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded.

  “I’m very proud of her,” Grandmother said.

  “Oh, come on, Grandmother, you should’ve left well enough alone,” Pete said.

  Chance sighed. Goodness, his cousin was a grade-A douchebag with the brain capacity of a dickhead teenager.

  “And what was well enough, Peter?” His grandmother’s tone was tempered by the sort of curiosity one had when she knew the answer to a question but wanted the other person to fully express himself.

  All Pete did was snort. However, Chance wasn’t sure if Pete had a problem with Rosalie being a lawyer or leaving him first and becoming a lawyer later.

  Susan decided to jump in and try to clobber Rosalie with more alimony crap.

  “I told you this already; your husband does not pay me alimony,” Rosalie said. “I stopped the payments because I chose not to keep jumping through his damn hoops or putting up with his harassment. So if the money’s missing, then check the ban
k and credit card statements. I’m sure you’ll find a tie to the Pink Kitty. It’s his happiest place on earth.”

  Chance stifled a laugh. Rosalie had just delivered the knockout blow.

  “Fuck you, Rosalie,” Peter barked.

  “Never again,” Rosalie said with a snarl.

  His grandmother clapped her hands and threatened to disinvite the uninvited, which Chance thought was a great idea. Then, right on cue, Pete started in with whose side his grandmother should’ve taken in the matter. Susan then made it about her, and then, for a moment, it became the Pete and Susan show. They often tried to outdo each other in a game they consequently played called “who’s the biggest victim.”

  Chance rubbed his temples. Pete’s voice and Susan’s whining were giving him a headache. Then somehow, the two started arguing with each other until Susan stormed out of the room like a child. And instead of Peter, it was Claire who got up to see to his wife’s needs.

  Chance fixated on Rosalie’s pretty face as she apologized to his grandmother for her behavior.

  Grandmother smiled. “You’re fine, darling.”

  Pete snorted. “She’s fine?”

  “Go see about your wife, Pete,” Grandmother said.

  “She’s fine?” he repeated as though he was offended by the sentiment.

  Grandmother slapped the table. “Go! Now!”

  Pete looked at Grandmother as though he’d been slapped in the face. But he was saved when Susan and Claire returned to the table. The main course was served shortly thereafter.

  “So, Edna, I had some design ideas for the house,” Susan said as though none of her provoking and whining, which had led to her temper tantrum, had happened.

  Grandmother gave Susan a blank look, making Chance wonder what was behind that expression.

  “No, but really, Edna, have you ever considered doing a major remodel?” Susan asked.

  “Actually, I can tell there was a major remodel done to the structure,” Claire said.

  Finally, Grandmother’s interest was piqued. “Is that so?”

  As Claire explained how some of the original Spanish colonial features were still part of the frame, Chance tried to forget Rosalie was at the table. The prime rib was tasty enough to allow him to do that.

  “Anyway, so, Grandmother, how does it feel to be away from the business?” Susan asked.

  Chance coughed after nearly choking on the tender meat he had just swallowed.

  “It feels revolutionary,” Grandmother said.

  Chance could hardly believe what he had just heard. “You’re free from the business?”

  “Wait. You didn’t know?” Peter asked before shrugging dismissively. “That’s right, you’re out of the loop.”

  Chance had a boatload of questions for his grandmother, but it was not the time to ask them. Why hadn’t she told him? By the look on Rosalie’s face, she hadn’t known, either.

  “So, Chance, how do you like living in San Francisco?” Claire asked.

  He glared at her. The question felt inappropriate, considering what he’d just learned.

  “It’s fine,” he replied.

  “Have you ever lived in New York?”

  “No.”

  Claire asked questions, one after the other. At least they were polar questions to which the answer was either yes or no. He’d been in this situation before. Claire seemed to understand she was getting nowhere with him and was making her last attempt at catching his interest. But there was nothing she could say or do to turn his crank. It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty enough. Claire was beautiful, but he just wasn’t interested—that was it, and that was all.

  He got a reprieve from her questions when Tony and Rod cleared the table.

  “Dinner has ended. Thank you for your service tonight,” Grandmother said to the servers before they went back into the kitchen. Soon after, she rose to her feet. “There will be no dessert. Good night. And please do not disturb me from this moment forward.”

  Chance couldn’t believe what had just happened. His grandmother had never made such an exit, and all of the night’s spats had been tame compared to how things usually went when the Sterlings sat down for dinner. He really wanted to have a conversation about what had happened earlier today in the sitting room. He also wanted to know more about why his grandmother had never mentioned how close she was to Rosalie.

  Pete and Susan complained about there being no dessert. Chance hoped they would be the next to go, but instead, Rosalie said good night and left the table.

  Chance’s heart took a nosedive as his gaze remained on Rosalie’s backside until she was out of sight. Now he was alone with a cousin he didn’t like, his high-maintenance wife, and her friend. He couldn’t see the need to sit there any longer. He set the napkin that was in his lap on the table and stood.

  “Wait, Chance, um, are you sticking around for Grandmother’s birthday party?” Susan had a look of desperation on her face, and so did her friend.

  “Good night, Susan.” He got out of there before she could throw a tantrum for not getting the response she was looking for.

  He took long strides up the stairs, intending to leave the other guests in the dust. If Susan complained loud and long enough, Pete would get up and see to her needs, and that meant confronting Chance on her behalf. They were a tiresome duo.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Sterling?”

  Chance startled even though he recognized the voice. “Yes, Teresa.” His heart was still pounding.

  “I turned down your bed and started a fire. Would you like to end the evening with red or white wine?”

  His grandmother enjoyed running the house like a five-star hotel for guests.

  “No wine for me tonight,” he said.

  Teresa nodded. “Okay, ring the kitchen if you need anything.”

  He winked. “I’ll be out of commission for the night.”

  She smiled tightly and turned to walk away.

  Chance continued heading toward his room. However, there was a scent in the air, like sweet flowers and spice. The familiarity awakened his desire. He raced back down the hallway and stopped when he saw Teresa walking down the stairs.

  “Excuse me, Teresa?” he called as quietly as possible. “The other guest, Rosalie,” he whispered.

  “Ah, yes. I already turned down her bed.”

  He opened his mouth to ask where her room was located, but he caught sight of a server who had just walked into the hallway from the service elevator. He was carrying a tray with a bottle of wine and a glass on top.

  “Never mind,” he said to Teresa.

  Chance quickly turned to follow the server, whom he didn’t recognize. Chance focused his gaze on the man’s back until he knocked on the door across from his room.

  “Wine service,” the man said.

  Chance was standing behind the server, who turned to acknowledge him with a nod, when Rosalie opened the door. Their eyes met. She was wearing a long, colorful kimono-styled robe made of silky material, and her raven hair was wrapped in a bun. Loose strands brushed against her face. He had never touched her bare skin, but he bet she was soft and warm.

  Rosalie opened her door wider. “Thank you.”

  Their eyes remained on each other as the server entered the room. Chance knew that now was the time to apologize for being a jerk, and by the look in her eyes, it appeared as if Rosalie was waiting for it.

  “Um, interesting dinner,” he said to break the ice.

  She rolled her eyes slightly. “Very.”

  They both watched the server as he finished pouring wine in the glass.

  “Would you like to come in for a drink?” she asked.

  Chance raised his eyebrows. Her invitation was unexpected. Was she asking him in for a nightcap? He wasn’t one for one-night stands, only for the simple fact that he regarded them as soft illusions. Women seemed to always want more, whether they knew it or not. Everything within him told him to decline her offer, but he was past thinking with his brain.
/>   Chance cleared his throat. “Sure.”

  Her room was comfortable and, like her, smelled delicious.

  “Could you bring us another glass?” she asked the server.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the guy said before rushing out of the room.

  Rosalie pointed her hand at one of the chairs in the step-down seating area, which was in front of a brewing fireplace. “Have a seat.”

  Chance still questioned whether he’d made the right decision coming into her room for a drink as he walked over and sat in the chair.

  Rosalie walked over with the one glass of wine and handed it to him. “Guest first,” she said smiling.

  He rubbed his wet palms on the arms of the chair. “Ladies first.”

  She tilted her head contemplatively then grunted as soon as she arrived at some sort of conclusion. “Okay then.” She sat with the glass and crossed her legs.

  Chance cracked a tiny smile. He wondered what had made her not push the issue of insisting that he take the wine. “I want to say that I’m sorry for the way I behaved earlier.”

  “Do you mean when you were being rude and insulting?” She shrugged. “Basically, you were a dick.”

  He smirked. “Basically.”

  “But why?” She held up a hand. “Wait. Forget I asked.”

  “Forget you asked?”

  “Distrust is the Sterling way.”

  Her eyes were big and brown, and she had perky lips that begged to be sucked. His gaze fell to her cleavage. She wasn’t well-endowed in that department, but she had enough to make him want to indulge. Chance tugged at his collar and shifted in his seat. It had just turned unbearably hot.

  He crossed and uncrossed his legs. “I don’t disagree with you.”

  She took a sip of wine and grimaced as though she could barely tolerate the burn.

  “Not a drinker?” he asked.

  She smirked. “Not on the front end. The pleasure comes after the bite.” Rosalie closed her eyes indulgently. “The Sterling Merlot 1996 is one of the best.” She opened her eyes, and he would have sworn she had just cast a spell on him.

  Chance shifted in his seat again. Shit, he had grown wood, a full-blown hard-on. He wanted to get out of there to cool off some, but if he stood, he was sure she would be able to see the effect she was having on him.